A Visit to the Monastery of La Trappe in 1817 - W.D. Fellowes
[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 Heloise at Clisson
Tomb of Abelard and Heloise
Ruins of Abelard's House
Granite Rock in the Garenne
Le Connetable de Clisson (_outline_)
Ruins of Clisson
Tour des Pelerins
Moulin aux chevres
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 Vendee_. 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 Vendee_, 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 Abbe de Rance.
CHAP. II.
Ruins of the Convent of the Chartreux.--Forests of Le
Perche.--Mortagne.
CHAP. III.
From Mortagne to Rennes.--Soeurs de la Charite.--Alencon.--Laval.--Vitre,
the celebrated residence of Mad. de Sevigne.
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 Sevres.
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.--Orleans--and Orleans to Paris.
CHAP. IX.
Environs of Paris.--Pere la Chaise.--Castle of Vincennes, and Chateau
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, Tillieres, 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 chateau,
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 Abbe Sieyes, 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 chateau and
beautiful grounds of Marly, says:
C'est la que tout est grand, que l'art n'est point timide;
La tout est enchante: c'est le Palais d'Armide;
C'est le jardin d'Alcine, ou plutot d'un Heros,
Noble dans sa retraite et grand dans son repos.
Qui cherche encore a vaincre, a dompter des obstacles,
Et ne marche jamais qu'entoure 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 Pere Don Augustin, Grand Prior of La
Trappe. The mayor of the commune of Solignie, 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 Solignie 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 verite
Elevent leurs flambeaux terribles;
C'est de cette demeure, au monde inaccessible,
Que l'on passe a l'eternite.
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 Frere
Charle, the secretaire, 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 Pere
Abbe 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 Frere
Paul, Frere Francois, &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 Frere 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 Elzear de Sabran, in a poem called Le Repentir, lately
published, describing this Monastery, says very justly;
Temoins d'une commune et secrete souffrance,
Ces freres de douleur, martyrs de l'esperance,
D'une lente torture epuisant les degres,
Constamment reunis, constamment separes,
L'un a l'autre etrangers, a cote l'un de l'autre,
Joignent tout ce malheur encore a tout le notre,
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 Frere 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. Frere DONNE
Decede. le 24 Fevrier 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 Rance. 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 Frere 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 _Freres Donnes_; 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 _Freres 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 Cenobites of La Trappe,
at the suppression of their order, amounted to one hundred monks,
sixty-nine lay brothers, and fifty-six _Freres Donnes_. 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
_Freres Donnes_ 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. Frere Charle said,
that the whole were strictly observed, and were frequently much more
severe; for the Pere Abbe 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 Lecons et Communion.
Lundi....... 3 Lecons.
Mardi.......12 Lecons--a jeun--Travail.
Mercredi....12 Lecons.
Jeudi....... 3 Lecons.
Vendredi....12 Lecons--a jeun--Travail.
Samedi......12 Lecons--a jeun--Travail.