[Illustration: VIEW of the MONASTERY of LA TRAPPE]
A VISIT TO THE MONASTERY OF LA TRAPPE
IN 1817.
WITH NOTES
_TAKEN DURING A TOUR THROUGH_
LE PERCHE, NORMANDY, BRETAGNE, POITOU, ANJOU,
LE BOCAGE, TOURAINE, ORLEANOIS, AND
THE ENVIRONS OF PARIS.
BY
W.D. FELLOWES, ESQ.
ILLUSTRATED WITH NUMEROUS COLOURED ENGRAVINGS,
FROM DRAWINGS MADE ON THE SPOT.
LIST OF THE PLATES.
View of the Monastery of La Trappe
Ruins of the Ancient Church of ditto
Ruins of the Gateway of the ancient Chartreuse
Les Noyades (_vignette_)
Grotto of Héloïse at Clisson
Tomb of Abélard and Héloïse
Ruins of Abélard's House
Granite Rock in the Garenne
Le Connétable de Clisson (_outline_)
Ruins of Clisson
Tour des Pélerins
Moulin aux chêvres
Tour d'Oudon on the River Loire
View of St. Florent
Tomb (_etching_)
PREFACE.
In justice to the public and to myself, I must disavow for the
following pages any higher literary pretension than what is conveyed
by the simple title of "Notes," under which I have ventured to give
them to the world. I had no other aim in writing but to occupy as
rationally as I could the hours of travel, and no other object in
publishing but to impart to others as plainly as I could a portion of
the pleasure I myself experienced. It has somewhere been remarked to
this effect, that if every man of common understanding were to put
down the daily thoughts and occurrences of his life, candidly and
unaffectedly as he experienced them, he must necessarily produce
something of interest to his fellow men, and make a book, which,
though not enlivened by wit, dignified by profundity of reasoning, nor
valuable by extent of research, yet no man perhaps should throw aside
with either weariness or disgust.
Whether I shall prove fortunate enough not to excite these sensations
in such readers as may honour my book with a perusal, I fear to
conjecture. But it was my good fortune, during a season of uncommon
beauty, to make a tour through some of the most interesting parts of
France, and to meet with persons who, from situation and talents,
were highly calculated to give my journey every charm of society and
information. The natural face of the country through which I passed
was peculiarly beautiful: I could scarcely move a step without
some novelty of picturesque enchantment, and had the most perfect
opportunities of contemplating Nature in all her varied poetry, from
the grand and terrible graces of savage sublimity, to the soft and
playful loveliness of cultivated luxuriance. There was scarcely a
town or village where I arrived which romance or history, religion or
politics, had not invested and adorned with every interest of mental
association. Under such impressions, and with such opportunities, it
was scarcely possible to resist recording something of what I saw and
felt; and if the publication of my hasty record be an error, it
will be deemed by my friends, I hope, a pardonable one. My book
can scarcely demand the serious attention of the critic; nor could
criticism well expect a better style from one whose profession is
seldom supposed to allow much leisure to acquire nicety in the arts of
composition. I claim no other merit for my Notes than having followed
the advice (of Gray, I believe) that ten words put down at the moment
upon the spot, are worth a whole cart load of recollections. I have
not sought to add to their attraction (if they should possess any) by
the embellishments of my invention, or the graces of my periods--the
decorative artifices of execution can never give value to falsehood,
and truth needs them not. A simple landscape, simply described from
nature, has always a charm above the most high-finished compositions
of mere fancy; and, like a moderate painting from the same source,
still imparts a feeling of reality. I hope, therefore, I shall be
excused for attempting some description, slight and unskilful as it
may be, of places and scenery where the human mind has exhibited
some of its most curious and powerful features, and which awaken
reflections of the deepest interest--I allude particularly to the
monastery of _La Trappe_, and to the country of _La Vendée_. The
former had dwelt among the earliest impressions of youth, with
something like the wild and wonderful force of a romantic tale; and I
was anxious to become an eye-witness of what had so long been one of
the most powerful objects of my imagination. The gloomy and almost
inaccessible situation chosen by this strange fraternity for
their convent--their rigid separation from human intercourse--the
infringible taciturnity imposed upon themselves--and the terrible
severity of their penances, are certainly circumstances more
resembling the visionary indulgence of fantasy and fiction, than
actual realities to be met with among living men, and in the present
day.
With regard to the department of _La Vendée_, whatever serves, trivial
as it may be, to recall or illustrate the history of its wars and the
character of its inhabitants, must ever possess a charm for those who
delight to sympathize with the noble struggles of a gallant people,
conscientiously devoting themselves to the cause of a fallen and
persecuted monarchy, and resisting the cruel and destructive ferocity
of a licentious enemy, who had broken down the most sacred fences of
society, and trampled upon the dearest ties of human nature.
In these Notes, slight as they are, I can truly promise the reader
that he will find nothing wilfully misrepresented, nor advanced
without just authority; and if the rapid and cursory character of the
observations, allusions, and anecdotes, shall enable an hour to pass
agreeably that has no better employment, I am content, and gratified
with the attainment of all I ever hoped or designed by an unpretending
publication, which I cheerfully dedicate to all who love to unbend
their minds from a critical attitude, and can lounge goodnaturedly
over leaves written by a traveller as idle and careless as themselves,
and who assures them that no one can think more humbly of his
production than himself.
MARCH 1818.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Route from Paris to Mortagne.--Excursion to La Trappe.--State of the
Order since the restoration in 1814.--Its foundation and rules under
the Abbé de Rancé.
CHAP. II.
Ruins of the Convent of the Chartreux.--Forests of Le
Perche.--Mortagne.
CHAP. III.
From Mortagne to Rennes.--Soeurs de la Charité.--Alençon.--Laval.--Vitré,
the celebrated residence of Mad. de Sévigné.
CHAP. IV.
Rennes.--Route from Rennes to Nantes.--City of Nantes.--Historical
anecdotes.
CHAP. V.
Country south of the Loire.--Le Bocage.--Clisson.--Historical
anecdotes.--The Garenne, and River Sèvres.
CHAP. VI.
General appearance and limits of Le Bocage.--Nature of the mode of
warfare of the Vendeans.
CHAP. VII.
The River Loire, from Nantes to Angers.
CHAP. VIII.
Saumur to Tours.--Tours to Blois.--Orléans--and Orléans to Paris.
CHAP. IX.
Environs of Paris.--Père la Chaise.--Castle of Vincennes, and Château
of Saint Germain.--The Forest, and Vicinity.--Conclusion.
A VISIT
TO THE
MONASTERY OF LA TRAPPE
CHAP. I.
ROUTE FROM PARIS TO MORTAGNE.--EXCURSION TO LA TRAPPE.--STATE OF THE
ORDER SINCE THE RESTORATION IN 1814.--ITS FOUNDATION AND RULES UNDER
THE ABBE DE RANCE.
I performed this journey during the months of June, July, August, and
September, a distance of near one thousand miles, and had the singular
good fortune to enjoy the finest weather possible. The perusal of
Madame de La Roche-Jaquelin's interesting work on the Vendean war,
first gave me the idea of visiting the country called le Bocage, the
theatre of so many events, and sufferings of the brave royalists; and,
as the province of le Perche, in which is situated the ancient convent
of La Trappe, was in my route to Bretagne, I resolved to make an
excursion there, in order to satisfy myself of the truth of those
austerities which I had read of in the Memoirs of the Count de
Comminge.
The route from Paris to Mortagne, in le Perche, leads through Marly,
Versailles, Saint Cyr, Pont Chartrain, La Queue, Houdon, Marrolles,
Dreux, Nonancourt, Tillières, Verneuil, and Saint Maurice. The roads
are excellent, and the country beautiful. The first post out of Paris
is Nanterre. Two leagues and a half from the barriere, the village
of Ruel, and the park of Malmaison, form a continuation of neat
buildings. At Nanterre, in the campaign of 1815, the Prussians, after
a severe engagement with the retreating troops of the French, had one
regiment of cavalry cut to pieces. At Ruel, the celebrated Cardinal
Richelieu had a palace, which at the Revolution became national
property, and was purchased by Massena, Duc de Rivoli, Prince
D'Essling, lately deceased. The Duchess still resides there. It was
taken possession of by the allies in 1815, and, like Malmaison,
plundered by the troops. There are extensive barracks for cavalry at
this place, at present occupied by the Swiss guards.
A little farther, between Malmaison and Marly, is a beautiful château,
formerly belonging to General Count Bertrand, who accompanied Napoleon
to Saint Helena; it is now the property of M. Ouverard, the banker:
nearly opposite is the residence of the celebrated Abbé Sieyès, who
lives in great retirement. Whatever may have been the political
transgressions of Bertrand, there is something so noble in his
devotion to the fallen fortunes of his master, that it is impossible
not to respect his character.
At Marly, the water-works and aqueduct for conveying the water from
the river Seine to the palace and gardens of Versailles, are very
curious. The palace of Marly is destroyed; but the basins, which were
constructed by order of Louis XIV. are still to be seen, though in
ruins. Delille, the poet, in his description of the château and
beautiful grounds of Marly, says:
C'est là que tout est grand, que l'art n'est point timide;
Là tout est enchanté: c'est le Palais d'Armide;
C'est le jardin d'Alcine, ou plutôt d'un Héros,
Noble dans sa retraite et grand dans son repos.
Qui cherche encore à vaincre, à dompter des obstacles,
Et ne marche jamais qu'entouré de miracles.
On quitting Paris, I had procured a letter of introduction from Count
La Cou to Madame de Bellou, at Mortagne, a charming old lady of an
ancient and noble family in that province, who had never quitted the
seat of her ancestors, but remained quiet and respected during all the
storms of the revolution. She received me with kindness, and politely
introduced me to the Sub-Prefect, Monsieur Lamorelie, who gave me a
letter of introduction to the Père Don Augustin, Grand Prior of La
Trappe. The mayor of the commune of Solignié, who happened to be at
the inn, and learned from the _Aubergiste_, that a stranger intended
visiting La Trappe, very civilly introduced himself to me, and gave me
every necessary direction how to proceed through the forest; at the
same time expressing his surprise that an Englishman should take
the trouble, and undergo the fatigue of penetrating through such a
country, an attempt which few of his own countrymen had ever ventured
to make. It was singular enough that only one person in the town could
be found to accompany me as a guide, or who knew any thing of
the track through the forest, although the abbey is distant only
twenty-five miles.
I set out with the guide just at day-break, mounted on a small Norman
horse, and armed with pistols and a sword-cane, in case of meeting
with wolves, which the mayor of Solignié had cautioned me against, as
abounding throughout the country. We travelled, after leaving the
main road, at the distance of a league, through a country scarcely
appearing to be inhabited. Here and there a lone cot, a mere speck,
met the eye amidst a landscape composed of nothing but barren wastes
and thick forests, nearly impervious to the light. We had penetrated
about half a mile through one of the latter, my attention occupied
with the romantic wildness of the scene, when we were alarmed by the
howling of a wolf. My guide crossed himself, and began cracking his
whip with the noise and singular dexterity peculiar to the French
postillions; and as we entered a part of the forest, impenetrable but
for traces known only to those who are accustomed to them, he related
(by way of consolation, I suppose,) several stories of the peasantry
having been recently attacked, and some destroyed, by wolves; and one
instance of a woman having had her infant torn from her arms, only a
short time since, in the neighbourhood.
On quitting the forest the track was now and then diversified by the
ruins of a solitary cottage, or the mouldering remains of a crucifix,
raised by pious hands to mark some event, or to guide the traveller;
and after traversing a rocky plain, covered with heath and wild thyme,
where some herds of sheep and goats were browsing, attended by the
shepherd, we entered the Forest of Bellegarde. This forest spreads
over a large extent of country, and is so dark and intricate, that
those best acquainted with it frequently lose their way. No vestige of
human footsteps or of the track of animals appeared; a mark, here and
there, on some of the trees, was the only direction! Pursuing our way
through turnings and windings the most perplexing, we found ourselves
to be on the overhanging brow of a hill, the descent of which was so
precipitous, that we were under the necessity of dismounting; and by
a winding path, hollowed out in its side, descended through a sort
of labyrinth towards the valley, whose sides were clothed with lofty
woods, rising one above the other. The valley itself is interspersed
with three lakes, connected with each other, and forming a sort of
moat around the ground; in the centre of which appears the venerable
abbey of La Trappe, with its dark gray towers, the deep tone of whose
bell had previously announced to us, that we had nearly reached our
journey's end.
The situation of this monastery was well adapted to the founder's
views, and to suggest the name it originally received of La Trappe,
from the intricacy of the road which descends to it, and the
difficulty of access or egress, which exists even to this day, though
the woods have been very much thinned since the revolution. Perhaps
there never was any thing in the whole universe better calculated to
inspire religious awe than the first view of this monastery. It was
imposing even to breathlessness. The total solitude--the undisturbed
and chilling silence, which seem to have ever slept over the dark and
ancient woods--the still lakes, reflecting the deep solemnity of the
objects around them--all impress a powerful image of utter seclusion
and hopeless separation from living man, and appear formed at once to
court and gratify the sternest austerities of devotion--to nurse
the fanaticism of diseased imaginations--to humour the wildest
fancies--and promote the gloomiest schemes of penance and privation!
In descending the steep and intricate path the traveller frequently
loses sight of the abbey, until he has actually reached the bottom;
then emerging from the wood, the following inscription is seen carved
on a wooden cross:
C'est ici que la mort et que la vérité
Elèvent leurs flambeaux terribles;
C'est de cette demeure, au monde inaccessible,
Que l'on passe à l'éternité.
A venerable grove of oak trees, which formerly surrounded the
monastery, was cut down in the revolution. In the gateway of the outer
court is a statue of Saint Bernard, which has been mutilated by the
republicans: he is holding in one hand a church, and in the other a
spade--the emblems of devotion and labour. This gateway leads into a
court, which opens into a second enclosure, and around that are the
granaries, stables, bakehouse, and other offices necessary to the
abbey, which have all been happily preserved.
Owing to the fatigue of the journey, the heat of the weather, and
having frequently been obliged to retrace our steps, from losing our
way in the woods, it was late before we arrived at the abbey. To the
west, under the glow of the setting sun, the forests were still tinged
with the warmest yet softest colours that faded fast away; and as we
descended towards the Convent, quickening our pace to reach it before
the last gleams of evening departed, there was a silence around us,
which at such a moment, and in such a spot, sunk sorrowfully upon the
heart! Just as I reached the gate the bell tolled in so solemn and
melancholy a tone that it vibrated through my whole frame, and called
strongly to mind the beautiful lines in "Parisina":
The Convent bells are ringing,
But mournfully and slow;
In the gray square turret swinging,
With a deep sound, to and fro,
Heavily to the heart they go!
On entering the gate, a lay-brother received me on his knees; and in
a low and whispering voice informed me they were at vespers. The
stillness and gloom of the building--the last rays of the sun scarcely
penetrating through its windows--the deep tones of the monks chanting
the responses, which occasionally broke the silence, filled me with
reverential emotions which I felt unwilling to disturb: it was
necessary however to present my letter of introduction, and Frère
Charle, the secrétaire, soon after came out, and received me with
great civility. He appeared a young man about five-and-twenty, with a
handsome and prepossessing countenance. He informed me that the Père
Abbé was then absent, visiting a convent of Female Trappistes, a
few leagues distant, but that he should be happy to show me every
attention; and requested that in going over the Convent, I would
neither speak nor ask him any questions in those places where I saw
him kneel, or in the presence of any of the Monks. I followed him to
the chapel, where, as soon as the service was over, the bell rung
to summon them to supper. Ranged in double rows, with their heads
enveloped in a large cowl, and bent down to the earth, they chanted
the grace, and then seated themselves. During the repast one of them,
standing, read passages from scripture, reminding them of death, and
of the shortness of human existence; another went round the whole
community, and on his knees kissed their feet in succession, throwing
himself prostrate on the floor at intervals before the image of our
Saviour; a third remained on his knees the whole time, and in that
attitude took his repast. These penitents had committed some fault,
or neglected their religious duties, of which, according to the
regulations, they had accused themselves, and were in consequence
doomed to the above modes of penance.
The refectory was furnished with long wooden tables and benches; each
person was provided with a trencher, a jug of water, and a cup, having
on it the name of the brother to whom it is appropriated, as Frère
Paul, Frère François, &c. which name they assume on taking the vow.
Their supper consisted of bread soaked in water, a little salt, and
two raw carrots, placed by each; water alone is their beverage. The
dinner is varied with a little cabbage or other vegetables: they very
rarely have cheese, and never meat, fish, or eggs. The bread is of the
coarsest kind possible.
Their bed is a small truckle, boarded, with a single covering,
generally a blanket, no mattress nor pillow; and, as in the former
time, no fire is allowed but one in the great hall, which they never
approach.
Within these three years a small cabaret has been built near the
Convent for the accommodation of those who may occasionally visit it,
the buildings that remain being but barely sufficient for their own
members, which have been rapidly increasing since its restoration. In
this cabaret I took up my abode for the night, in preference to the
accommodation very kindly offered me by Frère Charle, and retired to
rest, wearied with the day's excursion, and fully satisfied, that all
I had heard, all I had imagined of La Trappe, was infinitely short of
the reality, and that no adequate description could be given of its
awful and dreary solitude;
Monsieur Elzéar de Sabran, in a poem called Le Repentir, lately
published, describing this Monastery, says very justly;
Témoins d'une commune et secrète souffrance,
Ces frères de douleur, martyrs de l'espérance,
D'une lente torture épuisant les degrés,
Constamment réunis, constamment séparés,
L'un à l'autre étrangers, à côté l'un de l'autre,
Joignent tout ce malheur encore à tout le nôtre,
Jamais, dans ses pareils cherchant un tendre appui,
Un coeur ne s'ouvre aux coeurs qui souffrent comme lui.
The following morning the matin bell summoned me to the Convent,
and Frère Charle attended me to the burial ground; here have been
deposited the remains of two of the brothers, deceased since the
restoration of their order in 1814. Another grave was ready prepared;
as soon as an interment takes place, one being always opened for the
next that may die. The two graves were marked with simple wooden
crosses, bearing the following inscriptions:
F. Nicolas. Frère DONNÉ
Décédé. le 24 Février 1816.
* * * * *
On the other:
F. AUGUSTINUS. NOVITIUS
die 26 mensis novembris
ANNO. 1816 DECESSIT.
REQUIESCAT IN PACE
AMEN.
* * * * *
In the centre of the cemetery is the grave of M. De Rancé. His
monument, with his figure carved at full length in a recumbent
posture, was removed when the destruction of the old church took
place; it is now a complete ruin, and a few stones alone mark the spot
of its ancient founder's grave, which is kept free from weeds with
pious reverence and care. The revolution, which like a torrent swept
all before it, did not even spare the dead.
[Illustration: RUINS of the ANCIENT CHURCH of LA TRAPPE.]
While I was contemplating the ruins around me, and watching the
motions of a venerable figure in silent prayer at one of the angles,
the bell tolled, when both Frère Charle and the Monk dropped instantly
on their knees. How forcibly were the following lines of Pope recalled
to my mind!
Lo, the struck deer, in some sequester'd part,
Lies down to die, (the arrow in his heart;)
There, hid in shades, and wasting day by day,
Inly he bleeds, and pants his soul away.
The number of Monks who have taken the vow are not in proportion to
the others, who are lay brothers, and _Frères Donnés_; in all there
are about one hundred, besides novices, who are principally composed
of boys, and who do not wear the same habit. The Trappistes, who
compose the first order, are clothed in dark brown, with brown mantle
and hood; the others are in white, with brown mantle and hood.
I occasionally caught a glimpse of their faces, but it was only
momentarily; and I can easily believe, with their perpetual silence,
that two people well known to each other, might inhabit the same spot,
without ever being aware of it, so completely are their faces hidden
by their large cowl. The Trappistes, or first order, are distinguished
by the appellation of _Frères Convers_, the others by that of
_Religieux de Coeur_.
The hardships undergone by these monks appear almost insupportable
to human nature, and notwithstanding the immense number of deaths
occasioned by their rigorous austerities, the Cénobites of La Trappe,
at the suppression of their order, amounted to one hundred monks,
sixty-nine lay brothers, and fifty-six _Frères Donnés_. The inmates
are classed under these three heads; but the lay brothers, who take
the same vows, and follow the same rules, are principally employed as
servants, and in transacting the temporal concerns of the abbey. The
_Frères Donnés_ are brothers given for a time; these last are not
properly belonging to the order, they are rather, religious persons,
whose business or connexions prevent their joining the order
absolutely, but, who wishing to renew serious impressions, or to
retire from the world for a given period, come here and conform
strictly to the regulations while they remain, without wishing to join
the order for life. Many persons on their first conversion, or after
some peculiar dispensations of Providence, retire here for a season.
In the refectory I observed a board hung up, with "_Table pour
l'Office Divin_," written over it, and under it the regulations or
order of service to be performed for that week, which are occasionally
varied, but never diminished in their rigour. Frère Charle said,
that the whole were strictly observed, and were frequently much more
severe; for the Père Abbé had instituted more austere regulations
than formerly, with the only one exception, of the sick being allowed
medicines; and, in cases of great debility, a small quantity of meat.
The Table "_pour l'Office Divin_," was as follows.
Dimanche....12 Leçons et Communion.
Lundi....... 3 Leçons.
Mardi.......12 Leçons--à jeun--Travail.
Mercredi....12 Leçons.
Jeudi....... 3 Leçons.
Vendredi....12 Leçons--à jeun--Travail.
Samedi......12 Leçons--à jeun--Travail.
Their mode of life and regulations exist nearly in the same state
as established by the founder; in reciting them, such horrible
perversions of human nature and reason make it almost difficult to
believe the existence of so severe an order, and lead us to wonder
at the artificial miseries, which the ingenuity of pious but morbid
enthusiasm can inflict upon itself. The abstinence practised at La
Trappe allows not the use of meat, fish, eggs, or butter; and a very
limited quantity of bread and vegetables. They only eat twice a
day; which meals consist of a slender repast at about eleven in the
morning, and two ounces of bread and two raw carrots in the evening:
both together do not at any time exceed twelve ounces. The same spirit
of mortification is observable in their cells, which are very small,
and have no other furniture than a bed of boards, a human skull, and a
few religious books.
Silence is at all times rigidly maintained; conversation is never
permitted: should two of them even be seen standing near each other,
though pursuing their daily labour, and preserving the strictest
silence, it is considered as a violation of their vow, and highly
criminal; each member is therefore as completely insulated as if he
alone existed in the Monastery. None but the Père Abbé knows the name,
age, rank, or even the native country of any member of the community:
every one, at his first entrance, assumes another name, as I before
observed, and with his former appellation, each is supposed to abjure,
not only the world, but every recollection and memorial of himself and
connexions: no word ever escapes from his lips by which the others can
possibly guess who he is, or where he comes from; and persons of the
same name, family, and neighbourhood, have often lived together in the
Convent for years, unknown to each other, without having suspected
their proximity.
The abstraction of mind practised at La Trappe, and the prevention of
all external communication with the world is such, that few but the
superior know any thing of what is passing in it. It has been related,
that so little information of the affairs of mankind did these people
receive, that the death of Louis XIV. was not known there for years,
except by the Father Abbé; and such was their state of seclusion, that
a Nobleman having taken a journey of five hundred miles, purposely to
see the Monastery, could scarcely find in the neighbouring villages
one person who knew where it was situated. Indeed, at the present day,
it is quite astonishing how little is known of this place, and how
very few, even among those in its immediate vicinity, have ever
visited it.[1]
On the great festivals they rise at midnight; otherwise they are not
called until three quarters past one: at two they assemble in the
Chapel, where they perform different services, public and private,
until seven in the morning, according to the regulations of the week,
as exemplified in the "_Table pour l'Office Divin_". At this hour they
go out to labour in the open air. Their work is of the most fatiguing
kind, is never intermitted, winter or summer, and admits of no
relaxation from the state of the weather.
[Footnote 1: Among the most frequent visitors of La Trappe, was
the unfortunate James the Second. His first visit was on the 20th
November, 1690, where he was received by M. de Rancé, whose account of
it is very interesting.]
When their labour is over, they go into Chapel for a short time, until
eleven o'clock, the hour of repast; at a quarter after eleven they
read till noon; and afterwards lie down to rest for an hour: they are
then summoned into the garden, where they again work until three;
then read again for three quarters of an hour, and retire for another
quarter to their private meditations, by way of preparation for
vespers, which begin at four, and end at six; at seven they again
enter the Chapel, and at eight they leave it, and retire to rest.
At the hour of their first repast, I again attended Frère Charle to
the eating-room, where nearly the same forms were observed as at their
evening-meal; a small basin of boiled cabbage, two raw carrots, and
a small piece of black bread, with a jug of water, constituted their
solitary meal. A Monk, during the whole time, read sentences from
Scripture; and a small hand-bell filled up the intervals of his
silence, and proclaimed a cessation from eating, or movement of
any sort. Over the door of the Refectory I observed the following
inscription in Latin:--"Better is a dinner of herbs, where love is,
than a stalled ox, and hatred therewith".
Frère Charle invited me to partake of the frugal fare of his order. He
said, "You will forgive my laying before you a vegetable repast; it
is all that I have in my power to offer you, but you will confer a
pleasure by accepting it". It was impossible to refuse, for I felt I
should appear ungrateful after the attentions that had been shown me,
if I had. Frère Charle conducted me into an apartment, in which I was
gratified to observe a well executed portrait of the Abbé de Rancé,
which, at the destruction of the Monastery, had been preserved by the
surgeon of the ancient fraternity, who continued to reside there until
the period of his death, four or five years since. This person was
greatly respected by all the people round the country, and resorted
to by all who sought relief either from sickness or misery!--Had the
other brothers followed his example of remaining, in all probability
their Convent might have been spared, for the accumulation of wealth
could not be laid to their charge; and as their monastic vows obliged
them to remain within the Monastery, they were most unlikely to incur
the suspicion of any political intrigues.--How indeed could men, whose
whole existence was passed in solitude and penance, and who never
conversed even among themselves, have been dangerous to those
turbulent spirits who had overturned the government and all the
religious institutions of their country!
In the portrait, the Abbé is dressed in the habit of the order, a
white gown and hood, and sitting with a book before him, in which he
appears to be writing; on the same table, before him, are a crucifix
and a skull. The following inscription is painted in one corner by the
artist:
"ARM'D. LE BOUTTHILLIER DE RANCE. S'R
SCAUANT. et célèbre Abbé Réformateur De La Trappe.
Mort en 1700. à près de 77 ans, et de 40 ans de la plus
austère pénitence".
The Monastery of La Trappe is one of the most ancient Abbeys of the
order of Benedictins: it was established under the pontificate of
Innocent the Second, during the reign of Louis VII. in the year 1140,
by Rotrou, the second Count of Perche, and is said to have been built
to accomplish a vow, made in the peril of shipwreck. In commemoration
of this circumstance, the roof was made in the shape of the bottom of
a ship inverted. It was founded under the auspices of Saint Bernard,
the first Abbot of Clairvaux, the celebrated preacher in favour of
the Crusades. Many ages, however, had elapsed, since its first
institution, when the Father Abbot de Rancé, the celebrated reformer
of his time, determined to become a member, whose singular history and
conversion was the subject of a poem by Monsieur Barthe.
The Abbé de Rancé became a Monk of the Benedictin order of La Trappe,
in 1660, and his conversion was attributed to a lady whom he tenderly
loved. They had been separated for some time by her parents; she
having written to him to remove her for the purpose of becoming united
in marriage, he set off, but, during his journey, she was seized with
a fever and died. Totally ignorant of the circumstance, he approached
the house under cover of the night, and got into her apartment through
the window. The first object he beheld was the coffin which contained
the body of his beloved mistress! It had been made of lead, but being
found to be too short, they had, with unheard of brutality; severed
her head from her body! Horror-struck with the shocking spectacle, he,
from that hour, renounced all connexion with the world, and imposed
upon himself the most rigid austerities, which he continued until his
death, forty years after.
When M. de Rancé undertook the superintendance of the Monastery, it
exhibited a melancholy picture, of the greatest declension, and it
is curious to peruse the steps by which he effected so wonderful a
change;[2] and how men could ever feel it either an inclination or a
duty to enter upon a mode of life so different from the common ways of
thinking or feeling.
[Footnote 2: Règlements de L'Abbaye, La Maison-Dieu Notre Dame de La
Trappe, par Dom. Armand de Rancé.]
The Monks of La Trappe were not only immersed in luxury and sloth, but
were abandoned to the most scandalous excesses; most of them lived by
robbery, and several had committed assassinations on the travellers
who had occasion to traverse the woods. The neighbourhood shrunk with
terror from the approach of men who never went abroad unarmed, and
whose excursions were marked with bloodshed and violence. The Banditti
of La Trappe was the appellation by which they were most generally
distinguished. Such were the men amongst whom M. de Rancé resolved to
fix his abode; all his friends endeavouring to dissuade him from an
undertaking, they deemed alike hopeless and dangerous.
"Unarmed, and unassisted," [3] says his historian, "but in the panoply
of God, and by his Spirit, he went alone amidst this company of
ruffians, every one of whom was bent on his destruction. With
undaunted boldness, he began by proposing the strictest reform, and
not counting his life dear to him, he described the full intent of his
purpose, and left them no choice but obedience or Expulsion".
[Footnote 3: The work from which I have taken this, is a translation
by Mrs. Schimmelpenninck of Dom. Claude Lancelot's Narrative,
published in 1667. The present regulations not differing from the
former, I have extracted some of the most important.]
"Many were the dangers M. de Rancé underwent; plans were laid, at
various times, to poison him, to waylay and assassinate him, and even
once one of his monks shot at him; but the pistol, which was applied
close to his head, flashed in the pan, and missed fire. By the good
providence of God all these plans were frustrated, and M. de Rancé
not only brought his reform to bear, but several of his most violent
persecutors became his most stedfast adherents; many were, after a
short time, won over by his piety--the rest left the Monastery.
He especially, who had shot at M. de Rancé, became eminently
distinguished for his piety and learning, and was afterwards Sub-Prior
of La Trappe".
M. de Rancé lived forty years at the head of this singular society,
and the same ardor and piety continued to distinguish him to the last.
The excess of self-denial and discipline, exercised by this order,
which might readily be doubted, became more known, especially to this
country, at the time of the French Revolution, when they shared the
fate of dissolution with the various religious orders in France. On
that occasion many of them sought an asylum in England, and were
settled in Dorsetshire, where they received the kind protection and
benevolent assistance of Mr. Weld, until the restoration enabled most
of them to return; and, surprising as it may appear in the present
age, notwithstanding the perpetual violence imposed by their
regulations on every human feeling, many are found anxious to enter
the establishment.
When I was about to take my leave of Frère Charle, he said, "he hoped
I was pleased with my humble fare: to such as it was I had been truly
welcome". Indeed he had treated me with the kindest, most unaffected
hospitality; he had laid the table, spread the dishes before me, stood
the whole time by the side of my chair, and pressed me to eat: How
could I not be thankful? I requested he would be seated, but he
observed that it was not proper for him to be so. His manners and
general deportment bespoke him a well-bred gentleman; and when I
ventured to ask if I might make a memorandum of his name, he bowed his
head with meekness and resignation, and said, "I have now no other but
that which was bestowed on me when I took the vow, which severs me
from the world for ever!" It was impossible not to be affected at the
manner and tone of voice in which he uttered this. When I said that
perhaps he would like that I should leave an acknowledgment in
writing, expressive of the gratitude I felt at my kind and hospitable
reception, he appeared much pleased, and instantly procured me paper.
I left with him the following lines:
"Convent of La Trappe, July 20, 1817.
"I have this day visited the Convent of La Trappe,
and in the absence of the Grand Prior, to whom I
brought a letter of introduction from Monsieur Lamorelie,
Sub-Prefect of Mortagne, I was received and
have been entertained by Frère Charle Marie, his Secretary.
"It is quite impossible that I can do justice to the
kind, polite, and hospitable reception I have met with
from him, by any expressions in writing. I can only
observe, that it has made an impression on my mind
never to be effaced! If these worthy and pious people
have abandoned the world for the solitude and austerities
of La Trappe, they have not forgotten, in their own self-denial,
the benevolence and benignity due to strangers.
May their self-devotion meet with its reward!"
I now took my leave of the Convent with feelings which I will not
pretend to describe, but which, together with the impressions I
received when I first entered it, and the whole circumstances of my
visit, I am conscious of retaining while "Memory holds her seat". The
following lines, by P. Mandard, on quitting La Trappe, convey a very
faithful and poetical picture of this extraordinary solitude:
--Saint désert, séjour pur et paisible,
Solitude profonde, au vice inaccessible;
Impétueux torrens, et vous sombres forêts,
Recevez mes adieux, comme aussi mes regrets!
Toujours épris de vous, respectable retraite,
Puissé-je, dans le cours d'une vie inquiète,
Dans ce flux éternel de folie et d'erreur,
Où flotte tristement notre malheureux coeur;
Puissé-je, pour charmer mes ennuis et mes peines,
Souvent fuir en esprit au bord de vos fontaines,
Egarer ma pensée au milieu de vos bois,
Par un doux souvenir rappeler mille fois
De vos Saints habitans les touchantes images,
Pénétrer, sur leurs pas, dans vos grottes sauvages,
Me placer sur vos monts, et là, prennant l'essort,
Aller chercher en Dieu ma joie, et mon trésor!
CHAP. II.
VAL-DIEU.--RUINS OF THE CONVENT OF THE CHARTREUSE.--FORESTS OF LE
PERCHE, MORTAGNE.
I quitted _La Trappe_ in the afternoon of the third day after my
arrival there, for the Val-Dieu, which lies three leagues to the east
of Mortagne, taking the villages of Rinrolles and Prepotin in my way;
the latter stands in the midst of a forest. By this road, so bad that
it scarcely deserves the name, a great distance is saved, but the
romantic scenery of the approach to La Trappe is lost. The one we took
through the forest of Bellegarde more than doubles the distance;
but the Abbey is seen as in the centre of a lake beneath, and
the continual beauty and wildness of the landscape render it far
preferable. Until the Revolution this was the only road, the other
having been made when the lands became national property, and were
sold to the peasantry.
After passing through the above villages, we came round by Tourouvre,
a village on a height, which has a manufactory for glass. I did
not stop to view it, having several leagues to go through a wooded
country. Soon after crossing the main road leading into Bretagne,
we rode by the side of cultivated lands and orchards resembling the
western parts of Devonshire, of which the narrow lanes and high hedges
reminded me very much, until we entered the forest leading to the
Val-Dieu. Between eight and nine in the evening we came to the edge
bounding that part of the Vale by which it is approached, in the
direction we had taken. It was very considerably out of our way, owing
to the guide having mistaken his road and turned to the left instead
of the right. After resting a few minutes on the brow of the hill, we
began our descent by a steep and narrow pathway. When we were midway
down the glen, the ruins of the ancient Chartreuse suddenly burst upon
the view! At this moment all the terrors of the declivity, and the
momentary expectation of meeting some of the wolves with which the
forest abounds, vanished from my mind before the feelings of delight
which the enchanting scene called forth. The almost perpendicular view
of the Vale beneath, had an effect tremendous yet pleasing: on the
left was a lake, seeming to encircle an ancient convent embosomed in
a wood; a thick forest covered the surrounding heights, and before me
stood the remains of the ancient Priory, with its gateway and lodge so
perfect as to create no suspicion of the destruction within.
[Illustration: RUINS of the GATEWAY of the ANCIENT CHARTREUSE.]
This had been the hottest day and finest weather I had experienced
during my journey. It was a sweet evening, and the rich tints of the
departing sun-beams among the woods, with the solitary calmness of the
scenery around, were circumstances that made a strong impression on my
feelings. Those who have never traversed the forests of this country
can form but a very imperfect idea of what they are, or of the
death-like awful stillness that reigns within them; for many miles
together they form a dense shade, which, like a dark awning,
completely conceals the sun from the view: even on the brightest day
the sun's rays are only visible as from the bottom of a deep well! The
forests in Le Perche are reckoned the most extensive in France, and
every where abound with vast quantities of game.
I was received on alighting from my horse by a M. Boderie, a
good humoured hospitable man, who, with his family, are the only
inhabitants of this lonesome spot. I found afterwards that he had seen
better days: he informed me the Val-Dieu property was purchased at the
dissolution of the Monastery by the present proprietor, who resided at
Paris, and allowed him, being his friend, to occupy that part of the
building which had not been destroyed. He made many apologies for the
badness of the accommodations and the homeliness of the fare he had to
offer me, which I considered as unnecessary, as what he possessed was
tendered with unaffected cheerfulness.
The Prussians in 1815 occupied this country, and notwithstanding M.
Boderie was absent at that time serving in the body guard of Louis
XVIII, whom he had accompanied in his retreat to Ghent, they plundered
him of every article, not even leaving his wife a change of linen.
The numerous accounts I have heard from people of respectability and
loyalty, of the treatment experienced from the Prussians, excites the
greatest regret that they were not able to distinguish the innocent
from the guilty. Many families have been ruined, or greatly distressed
in their circumstances who were devoted to the cause of their
Sovereign. Such are the inevitable consequences of war!
The Val-Dieu extends upwards of three miles in length, surrounded by
almost impenetrable woods, except where paths have been cut. It has
three lakes, one communicating with the other, containing great
quantities of fish. The Monastery, it is evident from the remains of
its ruins, and from the boundary wall, still entire, must have been of
prodigious extent. M. Boderie informed me, that the plan, of which
he had seen an engraving, showed it to have been one of the most
considerable in the kingdom: some idea may be formed of its former
celebrity and extent by the remains of six hundred fire-places being
still traceable. A colonnade surrounded the whole, forming an oblong
square, in the centre of which was a jet d'eau, with several smaller
ones, the basins of which are still to be seen; the space within
formed a garden, with delicious walks, resembling those in the Palais
Royal.
The gate-way remains perfect, excepting only that the images over the
side doors have been mutilated. The one in the centre (over the great
entrance) is still in excellent preservation, and appears to be finely
executed: it is the figure of the Virgin Mary in gray marble, the
size of life, seated, with the infant Jesus in her arms. On a scroll
beneath are these letters:--
ECCE MATER
TVA.
1760.
Several old chesnut trees and elms still remain, which once formed
a fine avenue in front of the building, from whence the prospect is
strikingly beautiful. The eye passes over rocks, rugged, broken, and
abrupt towards their summits, crowned and darkened with wood; and the
narrow road winding between the trees, until it loses itself in the
forest, forms a feature very gratifying to the traveller. The solitude
of the place, as I viewed it at the close of day, occasioned mingled
sensations of pleasure and pain. It was impossible to resist the
imposing power of a situation, where every natural object was deeply
tinged with the poetical character, and every remnant of architecture
associated with the romance of religious feeling. I recalled and dwelt
upon various passages of the poets inspired by similar scenes, and
thought of the holy and enthusiastic minds which had here devoted
themselves to the sublimest duties and severest sacrifices of the
altar; and felt, that had I lived in those days, I, perhaps, could
have become an inmate of walls which seem to have been erected
to exclude the evils of life, and to nurture only the enchanting
abstractions of unpolluted virtue and happiness: but the present
day has brought with it a general philosophy and knowledge of human
nature, which lessen the delight of contemplating the calm repose of
such a seclusion, and have taught that these retreats from the world
were not always retreats from vice; that the sacrifices of monkish
privacy were not always those of selfish feelings; and that the
austerities once practised here, as now at La Trappe, might perhaps
arise more frequently from disappointed pride and ambition, than
from the pure feelings of pious resignation. In the overthrow of the
monarchy and that of the priesthood, this venerable pile became the
object of popular vengeance; and had the Revolution done no more than
effected the dissolution of the different orders of monks and nuns,
every reflecting mind must have been pleased: the removal of those
abuses, like the division of landed property into smaller portions,
(whereby the country in general became more cultivated and
productive,) was serviceable to France; and, if any circumstance can
restore permanent tranquillity, it will be the interest which the
different landholders have in the soil and the representative system,
which will serve to check the ambition of its future governors.
Already the good effects of these are to be perceived; and the
excessive abuses, insolence, and profligacy, of ancient ministerial
oppression, which paved the way for the downfall of the monarchy, and,
like a pestilence, destroyed that which was good with that which was
evil, will be prevented in future.