CHAPTER XI.
THE END OF LITTLE PICPUS.
Toward the beginning of the Restoration, Little Picpus began topine away; it shared in the general death of the order, which afterthe eighteenth century began to decay, like all religious orders.Contemplation, like prayer, is a want of humanity; but, like all thatthe revolution has touched, it will be transformed, and will becomefavorable to human progress, instead of being hostile to it. The houseof Little Picpus became rapidly depopulated. In 1840 the little conventand the school had disappeared; there were no old women or young girlsleft; the former were dead, the latter had fled away. _Volaverunt._
The rule of the Perpetual Adoration is so strict that it horrifies;novices hold back, and the order is not recruited. In 1845 a few laysisters were still found here and there, but no professed nuns. Fortyyears ago there were nearly one hundred nuns; fifteen years ago therewere only twenty-eight; how many are there now? In 1847 the prioresswas young, a sign that the choice was becoming restricted. She was notforty years old. In proportion as the number diminishes the fatigue isaugmented; the service of each becomes more painful; and the momentmay be seen approaching at which there will be only a dozen sore andbent shoulders to bear the heavy rule of St. Benedict. The burden isimplacable, and remains the same for the few as for the many; it usedto press, but now it crushes. Hence they die out. At the time when theauthor of this book still resided in Paris two died,--one twenty-five,the other twenty-three years of age. The latter can say, like JuliaAlpinula: _Hic jaceo. Vixi annos viginti et tres._ It is owing to thisdecadence that the convent has given up the education of girls.
We were unable to pass by this extraordinary, unknown, and obscurehouse without entering it, and taking with us those who are reading--wetrust with some advantage to themselves--the melancholy story of JeanValjean. We have penetrated into this community so full of those oldpractices which seem so novel at the present day. It is a closedgarden. _Hortus conclusus._ We have spoken of this singular spot indetail, but with respect, so far, at least, as respect and detail arecompatible. We do not understand everything, but we insult nothing. Wekeep at an equal distance from the hosanna of Joseph de Maistre, whoended by consecrating the hangman, and the sneers of Voltaire, who evenjeered at the crucifix.
There is a lack of logic in Voltaire's attitude, be it said in passing;for Voltaire ought to have defended Jesus as he defended Calas; andeven for those who deny the Divine incarnation, what does the crucifixstand for? The good man murdered. In the nineteenth century thereligious idea is undergoing a crisis. We unlearn some things, and wedo well, provided that in unlearning one thing, we learn another. Theremust be no vacuum in the heart of man. Some demolitions are made, andit is well that they should be made, but only on condition that theyshall be followed by reconstructions.
In the meanwhile let us study the things which are past. It isnecessary to know them were it only to avoid them. The counterfeits ofthe past take on false names, and try to pass themselves off for thefuture. This ghost, the past, may falsify his passport. We must learnto unmask the trick. We must be on our guard against it. The past has aface, superstition; and a mask, hypocrisy. We must identify the face,and tear off the mask.
As for the convents, they offer a complex question,--a question ofcivilization which condemns them, a question of liberty which protectsthem.
BOOK VII
A PARENTHESIS.