Le Bouthilier de Ranch, Abbe de la Trappe.
The Abbe le Bouthilier de Rance,--son of the secretary of state, Le
Bouthilier de Chavigny,--after having scandalised Court and town by his
public gallantries, lost his mistress, a lady possessed of a very great
name and of no less great beauty. His grief bordered upon despair; he
forsook the world, gave away or sold his belongings, and went and shut
himself up in his Abbey of La Trappe, the only benefice which he had
retained. This most ancient monastery was of the Saint Bernard Order,
with white clothing. The edifice spacious, yet somewhat dilapidated was
situated on the borders of Normandy, in a wild, gloomy valley exposed to
fog and frost.
The Abbe found in this a place exactly suitable to his plan, which was to
effect reforms of austere character and contrary to nature. He convened
his monks, who were amazed at his arrival and residence; he soundly rated
them for the scandalous laxity of their conduct, and having reminded them
of all the obligations of their office, he informed them of his new
regulations, the nature of which made them tremble. He proposed nothing
less than to condemn them to daily manual labour, the tillage of the
soil, the performance of menial household duties; and to this he added
the practices of immoderate fasting, perpetual silence, downcast glances,
veiled countenances, the renouncement of all social ties, and all
instructive or entertaining literature. In short, he advocated sleeping
all together on the bare floor of an ice-cold dormitory, the continual
contemplation of death, the dreadful obligation of digging, while alive,
one's own grave every day with one's own hands, and thus, in imagination,
burying oneself therein before being at rest there for ever.
As laws so foolish and so tyrannical were read out to them, the worthy
monks--all of them of different character and age openly expressed their
discontent. The Abbe de Rance allowed them to go and get pleasure in
other monasteries, and contrived to collect around him youths whom it was
easy to delude, and a few elderly misanthropes; with these he formed his
doleful wailing flock.
As he loved notoriety in everything, he had various views of his
monastery engraved, and pictures representing the daily pursuits of his
laborious community. Such pictures, hawked about everywhere by itinerant
vendors of relics and rosaries, served to create for this barbarous
reformer a reputation saintly and angelic. In towns, villages, even in
royal palaces, he formed the one topic of conversation. Several
gentlemen, disgusted either with vice or with society, retired of their
own accord to his monastery, where they remained in order that they might
the sooner die.
Desirous of enjoying his ridiculous celebrity, the Abbe de Rance came to
Paris, under what pretext I do not remember, firmly resolved to show
himself off in all the churches, and solicit abundant alms for his
phantoms who never touched food. From all sides oblations were
forthcoming; soon he had got money enough to build a palace, if he had
liked.
It being impossible for him to take the august Mademoiselle de
Montpensier to his colony of monks, he desired at any rate to induce her
to withdraw from the world, and counselled her to enter a Carmelite
convent. Mademoiselle's ardent passion for M. de Lauzun seemed to the
Trappist Abbe a scandal; in fact, his sour spirit could brook no scandal
of any sort. "I attended her father as he lay dying," said he, "and to
me belongs the task of training, enlightening, and sanctifying his
daughter. I would have her keep silence; she has spoken too much."
The moment was ill chosen; just then Mademoiselle de Montpensier was
striving to break the fetters of her dear De Lauzun; she certainly did
not wish to get him out of one prison, and then put herself into another.
Every one blamed this reformer's foolish presumption, and Mademoiselle,
thoroughly exasperated, forbade her servants to admit him. It was said
that he had worked two or three miracles, and brought certain dead people
back to life.
"I will rebuild his monastery for him in marble if he will give us back
poor little Vegin, and the Duc d'Anjou," said the King to me.
The remark almost brought tears to my eyes, just as I was about to joke
with his Majesty about the fellow and his miracles.
Well satisfied with his Parisian harvest, the Abbe le Bouthilier de Rance
went straight to his convent, where the inmates were persevering enough
to be silent, fast, dig, catch their death of cold, and beat themselves
for him.
Madame Cormeil, wishing to have a good look at the man, sent to inform
him of her illness. Would-be saints are much afraid of words with a
double meaning. In no whit disconcerted, he replied that he had devoted
his entire zeal to the poor in spirit, and that Madame Cormeil was not of
their number.