CHAPTER XI--END OF THE PETIT-PICPUS

  At the beginning of the Restoration, the convent of the Petit-Picpuswas in its decay; this forms a part of the general death of the order,which, after the eighteenth century, has been disappearing like allthe religious orders. Contemplation is, like prayer, one of humanity'sneeds; but, like everything which the Revolution touched, it will betransformed, and from being hostile to social progress, it will becomefavorable to it.

  The house of the Petit-Picpus was becoming rapidly depopulated. In 1840,the Little Convent had disappeared, the school had disappeared. Therewere no longer any old women, nor young girls; the first were dead, thelatter had taken their departure. _Volaverunt_.

  The rule of the Perpetual Adoration is so rigid in its nature that italarms, vocations recoil before it, the order receives no recruits. In1845, it still obtained lay-sisters here and there. But of professednuns, none at all. Forty years ago, the nuns numbered nearly a hundred;fifteen years ago there were not more than twenty-eight of them. Howmany are there to-day? In 1847, the prioress was young, a sign thatthe circle of choice was restricted. She was not forty years old. Inproportion as the number diminishes, the fatigue increases, the serviceof each becomes more painful; the moment could then be seen drawing nearwhen there would be but a dozen bent and aching shoulders to bear theheavy rule of Saint-Benoît. The burden is implacable, and remains thesame for the few as for the many. It weighs down, it crushes. Thus theydie. At the period when the author of this book still lived in Paris,two died. One was twenty-five years old, the other twenty-three. Thislatter can say, like Julia Alpinula: _"Hic jaceo. Vixi annos viginti ettres." _ It is in consequence of this decay that the convent gave up theeducation of girls.

  We have not felt able to pass before this extraordinary house withoutentering it, and without introducing the minds which accompany us, andwhich are listening to our tale, to the profit of some, perchance, ofthe melancholy history of Jean Valjean. We have penetrated into thiscommunity, full of those old practices which seem so novel to-day. It isthe closed garden, _hortus conclusus_. We have spoken of this singularplace in detail, but with respect, in so far, at least, as detail andrespect are compatible. We do not understand all, but we insult nothing.We are equally far removed from the hosanna of Joseph de Maistre, whowound up by anointing the executioner, and from the sneer of Voltaire,who even goes so far as to ridicule the cross.

  An illogical act on Voltaire's part, we may remark, by the way; forVoltaire would have defended Jesus as he defended Calas; and evenfor those who deny superhuman incarnations, what does the crucifixrepresent? The assassinated sage.

  In this nineteenth century, the religious idea is undergoing a crisis.People are unlearning certain things, and they do well, provided that,while unlearning them they learn this: There is no vacuum in the humanheart. Certain demolitions take place, and it is well that they do, buton condition that they are followed by reconstructions.

  In the meantime, let us study things which are no more. It is necessaryto know them, if only for the purpose of avoiding them. The counterfeitsof the past assume false names, and gladly call themselves the future.This spectre, this past, is given to falsifying its own passport. Letus inform ourselves of the trap. Let us be on our guard. The past has avisage, superstition, and a mask, hypocrisy. Let us denounce the visageand let us tear off the mask.

  As for convents, they present a complex problem,--a question ofcivilization, which condemns them; a question of liberty, which protectsthem.

  BOOK SEVENTH.--PARENTHESIS