SAINT VINCENT DE PAULc. 1581-1660

By F. A. [Francis Alice] Forbes

"Blessed is he that understandeth concerning the needy and the poor:the Lord will deliver him in the evil day. "--Psalm 40:2

"The Spirit of the Lord is upon me. Wherefore he hath anointed me topreach the gospel to the poor, he hath sent me to heal the contriteof heart, to preach deliverance to the captives, and sight to theblind, to set at liberty them that are bruised, to preach theacceptable year of the Lord, and the day of reward. "--Luke 4:18-19

Nihil Obstat: Francis M. Canon Wyndham Censor Deputatus

Imprimatur: Edmund Canon Surmont Vicar General Westminster July 2, 1919

Originally published in 1919 by R. & T. Washbourne, Limited, London, as _Life of St. Vincent de Paul_ in the series _Standard-bearers ofthe Faith: A Series of Lives of the Saints for Young and Old. _

"Extend mercy towards others, so that there can be no one in needwhom you meet without helping. For what hope is there for us if Godshould withdraw His mercy from us?"--St. Vincent de Paul

CONTENTS

1. A Peasant's Son

2. Slavery

3. A Great Household

4. The Galleys

5. Mission Work

6. The Grey Sisters

7. The Foundlings

8. At Court

9. The Jansenists

10. Troubles in Paris

11. "Confido"

SAINT VINCENT DE PAUL

"Dearly beloved, let us love one another, for charity is of God. Andevery one that loveth, is born of God, and knoweth God. He that lovethnot, knoweth not God: for God is charity. "--1 John 4:7-8

Chapter 1A PEASANT'S SON

A MONOTONOUS line of sand hills and the sea; a vast barren landstretching away in wave-like undulations far as eye can reach; marshand heath and sand, sand and heath and marsh; here and there astretch of scant coarse grass, a mass of waving reeds, a patch ofgolden-brown fern--the Landes. 

It was through this desolate country in France that a little peasantboy whose name was destined to become famous in the annals of hiscountry led his father's sheep, that they might crop the scantypasture. Vincent was a homely little boy, but he had the soul of aknight-errant, and the grace of God shone from eyes that were neverto lose their merry gleam even in extreme old age. 

He was intelligent, too, so intelligent that the neighbors said thatJean de Paul was a fool to set such a boy to tend sheep when he hadthree other sons who would never be good for anything else. There wasa family in the neighborhood, they reminded him, who had had a brightboy like Vincent, and had put him to school--with what result? Why, he had taken Orders and got a benefice, and was able to support hisparents now that they were getting old, besides helping his brothersto get on in the world. It was well worthwhile pinching a little forsuch a result as that. 

Jean de Paul listened and drank in their arguments. It would be afine thing to have a son a priest; perhaps, with luck, even aBishop--the family fortunes would be made forever. 

With a good deal of difficulty the necessary money was scrapedtogether, and Vincent was sent to the Franciscans' school at Dax, thenearest town. There the boy made such good use of his time that fouryears later, when he was only sixteen, he was engaged as tutor to thechildren of M. De Commet, a lawyer, who had taken a fancy to theclever, hardworking young scholar. At M. De Commet's suggestion, Vincent began to study for the priesthood, while continuing theeducation of his young charges to the satisfaction of everybodyconcerned. 

Five years later he took minor Orders and, feeling the need offurther theological studies, set his heart on a university trainingand a degree. But life at a university costs money, however thriftyone may be, and although Jean de Paul sold a yoke of oxen to starthis son on his career at Toulouse, at the end of a year Vincent wasin difficulties. The only chance for a poor student like himself wasa tutorship during the summer vacation, and here Vincent was lucky. The nobleman who engaged him was so delighted with the results that, when the vacation was over, he insisted on the young tutor taking hispupils back with him to Toulouse. There, while they attended thecollege, Vincent continued to direct their studies, with such successthat several other noblemen confided their sons to him, and he wassoon at the head of a small school. 

To carry on such an establishment and to devote oneself to study atthe same time was not the easiest of tasks; but Vincent was a hardand conscientious worker, and he seems to have had, even then, astrange gift of influencing others for good. For seven years hecontinued this double task with thorough success, completed hiscourse of theology, took his degree, and was ordained priest in theopening years of that seventeenth century which was to be so full ofconsequences both for France and for himself. 

Up to this time there had been nothing to distinguish Vincent fromany other young student of his day. Those who knew him well respectedhim and loved him, and that was all. But with the priesthood came achange. From thenceforward he was to strike out a definite line ofhis own--a line that set him apart from the men of his time andfaintly foreshadowed the Vincent of later days. 

The first Mass of a newly ordained priest was usually celebrated witha certain amount of pomp and ceremony. If a cleric wanted to obtain agood living it was well to let people know that he was eligible forit; humility was not a fashionable virtue. People were therefore nota little astonished when Vincent, flatly refusing to allow anyoutsiders to be present, said his first Mass in a lonely littlechapel in a wood near Bajet, beloved by him on account of itssolitude and silence. There, entirely alone save for the acolyte andserver required by the rubrics, and trembling at the thought of hisown unworthiness, the newly made priest, celebrating the greatSacrifice for the first time, offered himself for life and death tobe the faithful servant of his Lord. So high were his ideals of whatthe priestly life should be that in his saintly old age he wouldoften say that, were he not already a priest, he would never dare tobecome one. 

Vincent's old friend and patron, M. De Commet, was eager to do a goodturn to the young cleric. He had plenty of influence and succeeded ingetting him named to the rectorship of the important parish of Thil, close to the town of Dax. This was a piece of good fortune which manywould have envied; but it came to Vincent's ears that there wasanother claimant, who declared that the benefice had been promised tohim in Rome. Rather than contest the matter in the law courts Vincentgave up the rectorship and went back to Toulouse, where he continuedto teach and to study. 

Some years later he was called suddenly to Bordeaux on business, andwhile there heard that an old lady of his acquaintance had left himall her property. This was welcome news, for Vincent was sadly inneed of money, his journey to Bordeaux having cost more than he wasable to pay. 

On returning to Toulouse, however, he found that the prospect was notso bright as he had been led to expect. The chief part of hisinheritance consisted of a debt of four or five hundred crowns owedto the old lady by a scoundrel who, as soon as he heard of her death, made off to Marseilles, thinking to escape without paying. He wasenjoying life and congratulating himself on his cleverness whenVincent, to whom the sum was a little fortune, and who had determinedto pursue his debtor, suddenly appeared on the scene. The thief waslet off on the payment of three hundred crowns, and Vincent, thinkingthat he had made not too bad a bargain, was preparing to return toToulouse by road, the usual mode of traveling in those days, when afriend suggested that to go by sea was not only cheaper, but moreagreeable. It was summer weather; the journey could be accomplishedin one day; the sea was smooth; everything seemed favorable; the twofriends set out together. 

A sea voyage in the seventeenth century was by no means like a seavoyage of the present day. There were no steamers, and vesselsdepended on a favorable wind or on hard rowing. The Mediterranean wasinfested with Turkish pirates, who robbed and plundered to the verycoasts of France and Italy, carrying off the crews of capturedvessels to prison or slavery. 

The day that the two friends had chosen for their journey was that ofthe great fair of Beaucaire, which was famous throughout Christendom. Ships were sailing backwards and forwards along the coast withcargoes of rich goods or the money for which they had been sold, andthe Turkish pirates were on the lookout. 

The boat in which Vincent was sailing was coasting along the Gulf ofLyons when the sailors became aware that they were being pursued bythree Turkish brigantines. In vain they crowded on all sail; escapewas impossible. After a sharp fight, in which all the men onVincent's ship were either killed or wounded--Vincent himselfreceiving an arrow wound the effects of which remained with him forlife--the French ship was captured. 

But the Turks had not come off unscathed, and so enraged were they attheir losses that their first action on boarding the French vesselwas to hack its unfortunate pilot into a thousand pieces. Having thusrelieved their feelings, they put their prisoners in chains. Butthen, fearing lest the prisoners die of loss of blood and so cheatthem of the money for which they meant to sell them, they bound uptheir wounds and went on their way of destruction and pillage. Afterfour or five days of piracy on the high seas, they started, ladenwith plunder, for the coast of Barbary, noted throughout the world atthat time as a stronghold of sea robbers and thieves. 

Chapter 2SLAVERY

THE pirates were bound for the port of Tunis, the largest city ofBarbary. But the sight of the glittering white town with itsbackground of mountains, set in the gorgeous coloring of the Africanlandscape, brought no gleam of joy or comfort to the sad hearts ofthe prisoners. Before them lay a life of slavery which might be worsethan death; there was small prospect that they would ever see theirnative land again. 

To one faint hope, however, they clung desperately, as a drowning manclings to a straw. There was a French consul in Tunis whose businessit was to look after the trade interests of his country, and it wasjust possible that he might use his influence to set them free. 

The hope was short-lived. The pirates, expecting to make a good dealof money out of their prisoners, were equally aware of this fact, andtheir first act on landing was to post a notice that the captivesthey had for sale were Spaniards. Nothing was left to Vincent and hiscompanions, who did not know a word of the language of the country, but to endure their cruel fate. 

The Turks, having stripped their prisoners and clothed them in a kindof rough uniform, fastened chains round their necks and marched themthrough the town to the marketplace, where they were exhibited forsale much as cattle are at the present day. They were carefullyinspected by the dealers, who looked at their teeth, felt theirmuscles, made them run and walk--with loads and without--to satisfythemselves that they were in good condition, and finally selectedtheir victims. Vincent was bought by a fisherman who, finding thathis new slave got hopelessly ill whenever they put out to sea, repented of his bargain and sold him to an alchemist. 

In the West, as well as in the East, there were still men whobelieved in the Philosopher's Stone and the Elixir of Life. By meansof the still undiscovered Stone they hoped to change base metals intogold, while the equally undiscovered Elixir was to prolong lifeindefinitely, and to make old people young. 

Vincent's master was an enthusiast in his profession and kept ten orfifteen furnaces always burning in which to conduct his experiments. His slave, whose business it was to keep them alight, was kindlytreated; the old man soon grew very fond of him and would haranguehim by the hour on the subject of metals and essences. His greatdesire was that Vincent should become a Mohammedan like himself, adesire which, needless to say, remained unfulfilled, in spite of thelarge sums of money he promised if his slave would only oblige him inthis matter. 

The old alchemist, however, had a certain reputation in his owncountry. Having been sent for one day to the Sultan's Court, he diedon the way, leaving his slave to his nephew, who lost no time ingetting rid of him. 

Vincent's next master was a Frenchman who had apostatized and wasliving as a Mohammedan on his farm in the mountains. This man hadthree wives, who were very kind to the poor captive--especially oneof them, who, although herself a Mohammedan, was to be the cause ofher husband's conversion and Vincent's release. She would go out tothe fields where the Christian slave was working and bid him tell herabout his country and his religion. His answers seemed to impress hergreatly, and one day she asked him to sing her one of the hymns theysang in France in praise of their God. 

The request brought tears to Vincent's eyes. He thought of theIsraelites captive in Babylon, and of their answer to a similardemand. With an aching heart he intoned the psalm, "By the waters ofBabylon, " while the woman, strangely impressed by the plaintivechant, listened attentively and, when he had ended, begged for more. 

The _Salve Regina_ followed, and other songs of praise, after whichshe went home silent and thoughtful. That night she spoke to herhusband. "I cannot understand, " she said, "why you have given up areligion which is so good and holy. Your Christian slave has beentelling me of your Faith and of your God, and has sung songs in Hispraise. My heart was so full of joy while he sang that I do notbelieve I shall be so happy even in the paradise of my fathers. " Herhusband, whose conscience was not quite dead within him, listenedsilent and abashed. "Ah, " she continued, "there is somethingwonderful in that religion!"

The woman's words bore fruit. All day long, as her husband went abouthis business, the remembrance of his lost Faith was tugging at hisheartstrings. Catching sight of Vincent digging in the fields, hewent to him and bade him take courage. "At the first opportunity, " hesaid, "I will escape with you to France. "

It was nine long months before that opportunity came, for theFrenchman was in the Sultan's service and was not able to leave thecountry. At last, however, the two men, escaping together in a smallboat, succeeded in reaching Avignon, and Vincent was free once more. 

Cardinal Montorio, the Pope's legate, was deeply interested in thetwo fugitives, and a few days later reconciled the apostate, nowdeeply repentant, to the Church. The Cardinal, who shortly afterwardsreturned to Rome, took Vincent with him, showing him great kindnessand introducing him to several people of importance. The opinion theyformed of him is shown by the fact that he was chosen not long afterto go on a secret mission to the court of Henry IV, King of France. 

An interview--or rather several interviews--with a reigning monarchwould have been considered in those days as a first-rate chance foranyone who had a spark of ambition. Nothing would have been easierthan to put in a plea for a benefice or a bishopric; but Vincent, whowas both humble and unselfish, had no thought of his own advancement. His only desire was to get his business over and to leave the Courtas quickly as possible. 

The question of how he was to live remaining still unanswered, hetook a room in a house near one of the largest hospitals in Paris anddevoted himself to the service of the sick and dying. But even therent of the little room was more than he could afford to pay, and hewas glad to share it with a companion. This was a judge from his ownpart of the country who was in Paris on account of a lawsuit and who, not being overburdened with money, offered to share the lodging andthe rent. 

It was at this time that Vincent met Father--afterwards Cardinal--deBérulle, one of the most holy and learned priests of his time, whowas occupied at that moment in founding the French Congregation ofthe Oratory, destined to do such good work for the clergy of France. De Bérulle was quick to recognize holiness and merit, and he andVincent soon became fast friends. 

But it did not seem to be God's will that our hero should prosper inParis; he fell ill, and one day while he was lying in bed waiting forsome medicine which had been ordered, his companion went out, leavingthe cupboard in which he kept his money unlocked. The chemist'sassistant, arriving shortly afterwards with the medicine and openingthe cupboard to get a glass for the patient, caught sight of thepurse, slipped it into his pocket, and made off. 

No sooner had the judge returned than he went to the cupboard anddiscovered the theft. Turning furiously on the sick man, he accusedhim of having stolen his property and overwhelmed him with insultsand abuse. Vincent, unmoved by his threats, only answered gently thathe had seen nothing of the money and did not know what had become ofit; but his companion, refusing to listen to reason, rushed out andaccused him to the police. This led to nothing, as neither witnessnor proof could be brought forward by the judge, who, furious at thefailure of his accusation, went about Paris denouncing Vincent as athief. So determined was he to ruin the poor priest whose room he hadshared that he obtained an introduction to Father de Bérulle for theexpress purpose of making Vincent's guilt known to him. As for thelatter, he bore the affront in silence, making no attempt to justifyhimself beyond his first declaration that he was innocent. "God knowsthe truth, " he would reply to all accusations. 

The true thief was only discovered six months later. The chemist'sassistant had fallen ill and was lying at the point of death at ahospital, when, repenting of his crime, he sent to imploreforgiveness of the man he had robbed. The judge, stricken withremorse, wrote at once to Vincent, offering to come and ask hispardon on his knees for the wrong he had done him. 

Vincent was then living at the Oratory with Father de Bérulle, whohad never doubted his innocence. He hastened to assure his oldroommate that he desired no such apology and begged him to say nomore about the matter. Such was his treatment of the man who had donehim so grievous an injury. 

It was during these years that Vincent de Paul had another strangeexperience in which he showed heroic courage and steadfastness. Hemade the acquaintance of a learned doctor of the Sorbonne who was sotormented with doubts against the Faith that his reason was indanger. This man confided his distress to Vincent, who explained tohim that a temptation to doubt does not constitute unbelief, and thatas long as his will remained firm he was safe. It happens, however, that such temptations often cloud the reason, and Vincent's labors torestore the man's peace of mind were in vain. 

The priest, deeply moved at the sight of a soul in such danger, besought God for help, offering himself to bear the temptation in thedoctor's place. It was the inspiration of a saint, and the prayer wasgranted. The man was instantly delivered from his doubts, which tookpossession of Vincent himself. The trial was long and painful. Forseveral years this humble and fervent soul endured the agony of anincessant temptation to unbelief. But Vincent knew how to resist thismost subtle snare of the Evil One, and, although the anguish wascontinual, his will never wavered. 

Copying out the _Credo_ on a small sheet of parchment, he placed itover his heart, and his only answer to the fearful doubts thatharassed him was to lay his hand upon it as he made his act of Faith. To prevent himself from dwelling on such thoughts, he devoted himselfmore than ever to works of charity, spending himself in the serviceof the sick and poor and comforting others when he himself was oftenin greater need of comfort. 

One day when the temptation was almost more than he could bear and hefelt himself on the point of yielding, he made a vow to consecratehimself to Jesus Christ in the person of His poor. As he made thepromise the temptation vanished, and forever. His faith henceforwardwas a faith that had been tried and had conquered; strong and firm assuch a faith must be, it held him ready for all that God might send. 

Chapter 3A GREAT HOUSEHOLD

VINCENT remained two years in the house of Father de Bérulle, in thehope of obtaining permanent work. The administration of a poorcountry parish was, he maintained, the only thing he was fit for, butde Bérulle thought otherwise. "This humble priest, " he predicted oneday to a friend, "will render great service to the Church and willwork much for God's glory. "

St. Francis de Sales, who made Vincent's acquaintance while he waswith de Bérulle, was of the same opinion. "He will be the holiestpriest of his time, " he said one day as he watched him. As forVincent, he was completely won by the gentle serenity of St. Francisand took him as model in his relations with others. "I am by nature acountry clod, " he would say in after years, "and if I had not met theBishop of Geneva, I should have remained a bundle of thorns all mylife. "

At last Vincent's desire seemed about to be fulfilled. A friend of deBérulle's, curé of the country parish of Clichy, near Paris, announced his intention of entering the Oratory, and at de Bérulle'srequest chose Vincent de Paul as his successor. Here, amidst hisbeloved poor, Vincent was completely happy. In him the sick and theinfirm found a friend such as they had never dreamed of and any sonof poor parents who showed a vocation for the priesthood was takeninto the presbytery and taught by Vincent himself. The parish church, which was in great disrepair, was rebuilt; old, standing quarrelswere made up; men who had not been to the Sacraments for years cameback to God. Such was the influence of the Curé of Clichy thatpriests from the neighboring parishes came to learn the secret of hissuccess and to ask his advice. 

Vincent was looking forward to a life spent in earnest work among hispeople when a summons from Father de Bérulle recalled him suddenly toParis. Nothing less than the resignation of his beloved Clichy wasnow asked of him by this friend to whom he owed so much. One of thegreatest noblemen of France, Messire de Gondi, Count of Joigny andGeneral of the King's Galleys, was in need of a tutor for hischildren and had commissioned Father de Bérulle to find him what hewanted. De Bérulle decided at once that Vincent de Paul was the manfor the position and that, as he was evidently destined to do greatwork for God, it would be to his advantage to have powerful andinfluential friends. 

Although the prospect of such a post filled the humble parish priestwith consternation, he owed too much to de Bérulle to refuse. Settingout from Clichy with his worldly goods on a hand-barrow, he arrivedat the Oratory, from whence he was to proceed to his new abode. 

The house of Messire de Gondi was one of the most magnificent inParis. The Count, one of the bravest and handsomest men of his day, was in high favor at Court; while his wife, at a time when the livesof most of the great ladies of the Court were anything but edifying, was remarkable for her fervor and piety. The de Gondi children, unfortunately, did not take after their parents, and the two boyswhose education Vincent was to undertake and whose character he wasto form were described by their aunt as "regular little demons. " Theyoungest of the family, the famous, or rather infamous, Cardinal deRetz, was not yet born, but Vincent's hands were sufficiently fullwithout him. "I should like my children to be saints rather thangreat noblemen, " said Madame de Gondi when she presented the boys totheir tutor, but the prospect seemed remote enough. The violenttemper and obstinacy of his charges were a great trial to Vincent, who used to say in later life that they had taught him, cross-grainedas he was by nature, how to be gentle and patient. 

The position of a man of low birth as tutor in that princelyhousehold was not without its difficulties. Vincent was a dependent;but there was a quiet dignity about him which forbade liberties. Withthe servants, and there were many of every grade, he was alwayscordial and polite, losing no chance of winning their confidence, that he might influence them for good. His duties over, he wouldretire to his own room, refusing, unless especially sent for, to mixwith the great people who frequented the house. 

Madame de Gondi, with a woman's intuition, was the first to realizethe sanctity of her sons' tutor and resolved to put herself under hisdirection. Knowing enough of his humility to be certain that he wouldrefuse such a request, she applied to Father de Bérulle to use hisinfluence in the matter, and thus obtained her desire. At Vincent'ssuggestion she soon afterwards undertook certain works of charity, which were destined to be the seed of a great enterprise. 

The Count, too, began to feel the effects of Vincent's presence inhis household. It was the age of dueling, and hundreds of lives werelost in this barbarous practice. De Gondi was a famous swordsman, andalthough the life he led was a great deal better than that of themajority of his contemporaries, the possibility of refusing to fightwhen challenged, or of refraining from challenging another when hishonor was at stake, had never occurred to him. 

Vincent had been some time at the de Gondis' when it came to his earsthat the Count intended to fight a duel on a certain day, and heresolved, if possible, to prevent it. De Gondi was present at Mass inthe morning and remained on afterwards in the chapel, praying, probably, that he might prevail over his enemy. 

Vincent waited till everyone had gone out, and then approached himsoftly. "Monsieur, " he said, "I know that you intend to fight a duel;and I tell you, as a message from my Saviour, before whom you kneel, that if you do not renounce this intention His judgment will fall onyou and yours. " The Count, after a moment's silence, promised to giveup his project, and faithfully kept his word. It was the greatestsacrifice that could have been asked of a man in de Gondi'sposition, and it was a thing unheard of at the time for a priest tolay down the law to a great nobleman. But the influence of sanctityis strong, and the Count was noble; for him it was the beginning of abetter life. 

The de Gondis usually spent part of the year at their country housein Picardy, where they had large estates. Here the love of the poorwhich Vincent had fostered in Madame de Gondi was in its element, andshe delighted in visiting her tenants, tending the sick with her ownhands, and seconding all M. Vincent's plans for their welfare. 

It happened one day that Vincent was sent to the bedside of a dyingpeasant who had always borne a good character and was considered anexcellent Christian. The man was conscious, and Vincent--moved, nodoubt, by the direct inspiration of God--urged him to make a GeneralConfession. There was much need, for he had been concealing for longyears several mortal sins which he was ashamed to confess, profaningthe Sacraments and deceiving all who knew him. Moved with contritionby M. Vincent's words, he confessed his crimes, acknowledging hisguilt also to Madame de Gondi, who came to visit him after Vincenthad departed. 

"Ah Madame, " he cried, "if I had not made that General Confession mysoul would have been lost for all eternity!"

The incident made a lasting impression on both Vincent and theCountess. Here was a man who for years had been living in deceit andmaking an unworthy use of the Sacraments. How many others might be inlike case! It was a terrible thought. "Ah, Monsieur Vincent, " criedthe great lady, "how many souls are being lost! Can you do nothing tohelp them?"

Her words found an echo in Vincent's heart. Next Sunday he preached asermon in the parish church on the necessity of General Confession. It was the first of the famous mission sermons destined to do so muchgood in France. While he spoke, Madame de Gondi prayed, and theresult far surpassed their expectations. So great were the crowdsthat flocked to Confession that Vincent was unable to cope with themand had to apply to the Jesuits at Amiens for help. The othervillages on the estate were visited in turn, with equal success. Vincent used to look back in later life to this first mission sermonas the beginning of his work for souls. 

The result of all this for the preacher, however, was a certainprestige, and his humility took alarm. Monsieur and Madame de Gondinow treated their sons' tutor with the reverence due to a saint. Hisname was on the lips of everybody; and yet, as Vincent sadlyacknowledged to himself, the work for which he had been engaged was afailure. The "little demons" were as headstrong and violent as ever;it was only on their parents that he had been able to make anyimpression. 

Fearful of being caught in the snare of worldly honors, he resolvedto seek safety in flight. Father de Bérulle had sent him to the houseof Monsieur de Gondi; to him did he appeal in his distress. His workas a tutor had been a failure, he told him; he could do nothing withhis pupils, and he was receiving honor which he in no way deserved. He ended by begging to be allowed to work for the poor in some humbleand lonely place, and de Bérulle decided to grant his wish. Thecountry parish of Châtillon was in need of workers, was the answer;let him go there and exercise his zeal for souls. 

The only remaining difficulty was to get away from the great house. Dreading the outcry that he knew would follow the announcement of hisresolution, and the arguments that would be used against him, Vincentdeparted, declaring simply that personal affairs called him away fromParis. 

Only when he had been already established for some time in his newparish did it dawn on the de Gondis that his absence was not to bemerely temporary. They were in desperation. Madame de Gondi didnothing but weep, while her husband applied to everyone whom hethought to have any influence with Vincent to persuade him to return. "If he has not the gift of teaching children, " he wrote to a friend, "it does not matter; he shall have a tutor to work under him. Heshall live exactly as he likes if he will only come back. Get deBérulle to persuade him. I shall be a good man some day, " ends thisgreat nobleman pathetically, "if only he will stay with me. "

Chapter 4THE GALLEYS

M. DE BÉRULLE had certainly not exaggerated matters when he said thatthe parish of Châtillon-les-Dombes was in need of earnest workers. Vincent looked about him and set to work at once. 

The first thing to be done was to clean out the church, which was insuch a state of dirt and squalor that people had some excuse for notwishing to enter it. He then turned his attention to the clergyalready there. They were ignorant and easygoing men, for the mostpart, who thought a good deal more of their own amusement than of theneeds of their flock, but they were not bad at heart. Vincent'srepresentations of what a priest's life ought to be astonished them atfirst and convinced them later--all the more so in that they saw inhim the very ideal that he strove to set before them. 

There was no presbytery at Châtillon, and to the astonishment ofeveryone, Vincent hired a lodging in the house of a young gentlemanwho had the reputation of being one of the most riotous livers in thetown. He was, moreover, half a heretic, and Vincent had been warned tohave nothing to do with him. But the new rector had his own ideas onthe subject, and the ill-assorted pair soon became very good friends. 

The change in the young man's mode of life was gradual. His first stepwas to be reconciled to the Church, his second to begin to interesthimself in the poor. Gradually his bad companions dropped away, untilone day Châtillon suddenly awoke to the fact that this most rackety ofindividuals was taking life seriously--was, in fact, a changed man. The whole town was in a stir. Who was this priest who had so suddenlycome among them, so self-forgetful, so simple, so unassuming, yetwhose influence was so strong with all classes?

It was a question that might well be asked in the light of what wasyet to come. 

There lived near Châtillon a certain Count de Rougemont, a notedduelist, whose violence and immorality were the talk of theneighborhood. Having heard people speak of the wonderful eloquence ofM. Vincent, this man came one day out of curiosity to hear him preach. Surprised and touched in spite of himself, he determined to make thepreacher's acquaintance and, hastening into his presence, flunghimself on his knees before him. 

"I am a wretch and a sinner!" he cried, "but tell me what to do and Iwill do it. " Raising him with gentle courtesy, Vincent bade him takecourage, and spoke to him of all the good that a man of his positionmight do in the world. The Count, profoundly struck by the contrastbetween this man's life and his own--the one so powerful for good, andthe other so strong for evil--vowed to mend his ways. And he kept hisword. 

One by one he sold his estates to find the wherewithal for Vincent'sschemes of charity, and he would have stripped himself of all that hehad, had not Vincent himself forbidden it. His sword, which had servedhim in all his duels, and to which he was very much attached, he brokein pieces on a rock. His great chateau, the walls of which had rung tothe sound of wild carousals, was now thrown open to the sick and thepoor, whom the once-dreaded Count insisted on serving with his ownhands. He died the death of a saint a few years later, amid theblessings of all the people whom he had helped. 

The ladies of the parish, to whom before Vincent's arrival the hour ofthe Sunday Mass had seemed too long for God's service and who hadspent it chattering behind their fans, began also to realize thatthere was something in life besides selfish amusement. Some of them, moved by curiosity, went to see the new preacher, who, receiving themwith his usual kindness and courtesy, drew a touching picture of thesuffering and poverty that surrounded them and begged them to thinksometimes of their less fortunate brothers and sisters. 

Two of the richest and most fashionable ladies of the district, touched by Vincent's words and example, gave themselves up entirely tothe service of the poor, traveling about the country nursing the sick, and even risking their lives in the care of the plague-stricken. Theywere the forerunners of those "Sisters of Charity" who were in afteryears to carry help and comfort among the poor of every country. 

One day, as Vincent was about to say Mass, one of these ladies beggedhim to speak to the congregation in favor of a poor family whosemembers were sick and starving. So successful was his appeal that whenhe himself went a few hours later to see what could be done, he foundthe road thronged with people carrying food and necessaries. 

This, Vincent at once realized, was not practical. There would be fartoo much today and nothing tomorrow. There was no want of charity, butit needed organization. Sending for the two ladies, he explained tothem a scheme which he had thought out on his way home. Those who wereready to help the poor were to band themselves together, each in turnpromising to provide a day's food for starving families. 

Thus was founded the first confraternity of the "Ladies of Charity, "who were to work in concert for the relief of their poorer brethren. The association was to be under the management of the curé of theparish, and every good woman might belong to it. Its members were todevote themselves to the service of the poor for the love of Our LordJesus Christ, their Patron. They were to tend the sick cheerfully andkindly, as they would their own children, not disdaining to ministerto them with their own hands. The work developed quickly;confraternities of charity were soon adopted in nearly all theparishes of France and have since extended over the whole Christianworld. 

The de Gondis, in the meantime, had discovered the place of Vincent'sretreat and had written him several letters, piteously urging him toreturn. They had succeeded in enlisting as their advocate a certain M. Du Fresne, a friend of Vincent's, who had promised to plead theircause and who set about it with a shrewd common sense that was notwithout its effect. The work at Châtillon, he represented to Vincent, could be carried on by any good priest now that it had been setagoing, whereas in refusing to return to the de Gondis he wasneglecting an opportunity for doing good on a very much larger scale. Helped by their money and their influence, not only their vastestates, but Paris itself, lay open to him as a field for his labors. Moreover, he had taken his own way in going to Châtillon; was he surethat it was God's way?

Vincent was humble enough to believe that he might be in the wrong. Heconsented to go to Paris to see M. De Bérulle and to allow himself tobe guided by his advice. The result was a foregone conclusion, for thede Gondis had won over de Bérulle completely to their side. The nextday Vincent returned to the Hôtel de Gondi, where he promised toremain during the lifetime of the Countess. 

Delighted to have him back at any price, Vincent's noble patrons askedfor nothing better than to further all his schemes for the welfare ofthe poor and infirm. Confraternities of charity like that of Châtillonwere established on all the de Gondi estates, Madame de Gondi herselfsetting the example of what a perfect Lady of Charity should be. Neither dirt, discourtesy nor risk of infection could discourage thisearnest disciple of Vincent. In spite of weak health she gave freelyof her time, her energy and her money. 

M. De Gondi was, as we have already seen, General of the King'sGalleys, or, as we should now say, Admiral of the Fleet. It was noeasy post in days when the Mediterranean was infested with Turkishpirates, to whom the royal ships had to give frequent chase; but theGeneral had distinguished himself more than once by his skill andcourage at this difficult task. 

The use of steam was as yet unknown, and the King's galleys were rowedby the convicts and prisoners of France, for it would have beenimpossible to find volunteers for the work. Chained to their oarsnight and day, kept in order by cruel cuts of the lash on their bareshoulders, these men lived and died on the rowers' bench withoutspiritual help or assistance of any kind. The conditions of servicewere such that many prisoners took their own lives rather than facethe torments of such an existence. 

As Vincent went about his works of charity in Paris it occurred to himto visit the dungeons where the men who had been condemned to thegalleys were confined. What he saw filled him with horror. Huddledtogether in damp and filthy prisons, crawling with vermin, coveredwith sores and ulcers, brawling, blaspheming and fighting, the galleyslaves made a picture suggestive only of Hell. 

Vincent hastened to M. De Gondi and, trembling with emotion, pouredforth a description of the horrors he had seen. 

"These are your people, Monseigneur!" he cried; "you will have toanswer for them before God. " The General was aghast; it had neveroccurred to him to think of the condition of the men who rowed hisships, and he gladly gave Vincent a free hand to do whatever he couldto relieve them. 

Calling two other priests to his assistance, Vincent set to work atonce to visit the convicts in the Paris prisons; but the men were sobrutalized that it was difficult to know how to win them. The firstadvances were met with cursing and blasphemy, but Vincent was not tobe discouraged. With his own gentle charity he performed the lowestoffices for these poor wretches to whom his heart went out with suchan ardent pity; he cleansed them from the vermin which infested themand dressed their neglected sores. Gradually they were softened andwould listen while he spoke to them of the Saviour who had died tosave their souls. At Vincent's earnest request, money was collectedamong his friends and patrons, and a hospital built where theprisoners condemned to the galleys might be nursed into good healthbefore they went on board. 

In due time the rumor of the good work that was being done reached theears of Louis XIII, who promptly made Vincent de Paul Almoner to theKing's ships, with the honors and privileges of a naval officer and asalary of six hundred livres. This enabled Vincent to carry hismission farther afield, and he determined to visit all the convictprisons in the seaport towns, taking Marseilles as his first station. 

Here, where the conditions were perhaps even worse than in Paris, Vincent met them in the same spirit and conquered by the same means. The fact that he had once been a slave himself gave him an insightinto the sufferings of the galley slaves and a wonderful influenceover them. Accustomed as they were to be looked upon as brutes, it wasa new experience to be treated as if it were a privilege to be intheir company. This strange new friend who went about among them, kissing their chains, sympathizing with their sufferings and attendingto their lowest needs seemed to them like an Angel from Heaven; eventhe most hardened could not resist such treatment. 

In the meantime, through the generosity of Vincent's friends, hospitals were being built and men and women were offering themselvesto help in any capacity in this work of charity. Many of these earnestChristians gave their very lives for the galley slaves; for fevers, plague and contagious diseases of every kind raged in the filthyconvict prisons, and many priests and lay helpers died of theinfection. Yet other devoted workers were always found to take theirplace, and the work which Vincent had inaugurated thrived andprospered. 

Chapter 5MISSION WORK

THE incident which had given rise to Vincent's first mission atFolleville had never been forgotten by Madame de Gondi. It seemed toher that there was need to multiply such missions among the countrypoor, and no sooner had Vincent returned to her house than she offeredhim a large sum of money to endow a band of priests who would devotetheir lives to evangelizing the peasantry on her estates. 

Vincent was delighted, but considering himself unfit to undertake themanagement of such an enterprise, he proposed that it should be putinto the hands of the Jesuits or the Oratorians. 

Madame de Gondi, although convinced in her own mind that Vincent, andVincent alone, was the man to carry out the enterprise, obedientlysuggested it to one religious Order after another. In every case someobstacle intervened, until the Countess was more than ever persuadedthat her first instinct had been right. Knowing Vincent's loyalty toHoly Church and his obedience to authority, she determined to haverecourse to her brother-in-law, the Archbishop of Paris. An old housecalled the Collège des Bons Enfants was at that moment vacant. Sheasked it of the Archbishop, whom she had interested in her scheme, andwho proposed to Vincent to undertake the foundation. There was nolonger room for hesitation; the will of God seemed plain; indeed, Vincent's love of the poor had been for some time struggling with hishumility. 

The new Congregation was to consist of a few good priests who, renouncing all thought of honor and worldly advancement, were todevote their lives to preaching in the villages and small towns ofFrance. Their traveling expenses were to be paid from a common fund. They were to spend themselves in the service of their neighbor, instructing, catechizing and exhorting; and they were to take nothingin return for their labors. Nine months of the year were to be givento this kind of work; the other three to prayer and preparation. 

In March, 1625, the foundation was made, and Vincent de Paul was namedthe first superior. It was stipulated, however, that he should remain, as he had already promised, in the house of the founders, a conditionwhich seemed likely to doom the enterprise to failure. Vincent couldhardly fail to realize how necessary it was that the superior of a newCongregation should be in residence in his own house, but he confidedthe little company to God and awaited the development of events. 

The solution was altogether unexpected. Two months after the signingof the contract of foundation, Madame de Gondi was taken suddenly ill, and she died a few days later. Her broken-hearted husband not onlyconsented to Vincent's residence in the Collège des Bons Enfants, butshortly afterwards, leaving that world where he had shone sobrilliantly, he himself became a postulant at the Oratory. 

The beginnings of the new Congregation were humble enough. Its memberswere three in number: Vincent, his friend M. Portail, and a poorpriest who had lately joined them. Before setting out on their missionjourneys they used to give the key of the house to a neighbor; but asthere was nothing in it to steal, there was little cause for anxiety. In the course of their travels other priests, realizing the greatnessof the work, asked to be enrolled in the little company. Its growth, nevertheless, was slow; ten years after the foundation theCongregation only numbered thirty-three members; but Vincent had nodesire that it should be otherwise. In 1652 it was recognized by PopeUrban VIII under the name of the Congregation of the Mission. 

Vincent lavished the greatest care on the training of his priests. They were to be simple and frank in their relations with the poor, modest in manner, friendly and easy of access. 

"Our sermons must go straight to the point, " he would say, "so thatthe humblest of our hearers may understand; our language must be clearand unaffected. " The love of virtue and the hatred of evil were thepoints to be insisted on; the people were to be shown where virtue layand how to attain it. For "fine sermons" Vincent had the greatestcontempt; he would use his merry wit to make fun of the pompouspreachers whose only thought was to impress their audience with anidea of their own eloquence. 

"Of what good is a display of rhetoric?" he would ask; "who is thebetter for it? It serves no purpose but self-advertisement. "

The Mission Priests did good wherever they went; everybody wantedthem, and it was hard to satisfy the appeals for missions which camefrom all over the country. In due time the Congregation outgrew theCollège des Bons Enfants, and was transferred to a large Augustinianpriory which had originally been a leper hospital, and still bore thename of St. Lazare. 

Up to this time the Mission Priests had contented themselves withministering to the peasantry, but in the course of their travels ithad become painfully apparent that the clergy themselves were inurgent need of some awakening force. Those of good family led, for themost part, worldly and frivolous lives, while the humbler sort were asignorant as the peasants among whom they lived. The religious wars hadled to laxity and carelessness; drunkenness and vice were fearfullyprevalent. 

To Vincent, with his high ideals of the priesthood, this was aterrible revelation. The old custom of giving a retreat to priests whowere about to be ordained had fallen into disuse. With the assistanceof some of the French bishops he determined to revive it, and retreatsof ten or fourteen days were organized at St. Lazare for candidates tothe priesthood. Here, in an atmosphere of prayer and recollection, those who were about to be ordained had every opportunity of realizingthe greatness of the step that they were taking and of makingresolutions for their future lives. 

The Mission Priests were to help in this work more by example than byprecept; they were to preach by humility and simplicity. "It is not byknowledge that you will do them good, " Vincent often repeated, "or bythe fine things you say, for they are more learned than you--they haveread or heard it all before. It is by what they see of your lives thatyou will help them; if you yourselves are striving for perfection, Godwill use you to lead these gentlemen in the right way. "

The blessing of God seemed, indeed, to rest upon the ordinationretreats; nearly all who made them carried away something of Vincent'snoble ideal of the priestly life. Many to whom they had been theturning point of a lifetime, felt the need of further help andinstruction from the man who had awakened all that was noblest intheir natures. 

To meet this necessity Vincent inaugurated a kind of guild for youngpriests who desire to live worthy of their vocation. Weekly gatheringswere held at St. Lazare under the name of "Tuesday Conferences, " wheredifficulties were discussed, debates held and counsels given. It wasnot easy to belong to the "Conferences. " Members were pledged to offertheir lives completely to God and to renounce all self-interest. Nevertheless, they increased rapidly in number, and the Conferenceswere attended by all the most influential priests in Paris. 

But Vincent's zeal was boundless, and one good work grew out ofanother. The retreats for ordination candidates having been sosuccessful, he conceived the idea of giving retreats on the same linesfor the laity. The work thrived beyond all expectation. All wereadmitted without exception: noblemen and beggars, young men and old, the learned and the ignorant, priests and laymen. St. Lazare at suchtimes, Vincent once said, was like Noah's ark: every kind of creaturewas to be found in it. 

The only difficulty was the expense entailed, for many of theretreatants could pay nothing toward their board and lodging, andVincent would refuse nobody. Here, as in so many other cases, it wasthe Congregation of the Ladies of Charity, founded by Vincent inParis, that came nobly to his rescue. There was Madame de Maignelais, sister of M. De Gondi, who, left a widow at the age of twenty, devotedherself and her enormous fortune to alms and good works. There was theDuchesse d'Aiguillon, niece of the great Richelieu; Madame deMiramion, beautiful and pious; Madame Goussault, the first Presidentof the Dames de Charité; and many others, whose purses were always atVincent's disposal. 

The Congregation of the Mission Priests was to inaugurate another goodwork for which there was an urgent necessity in the world of Vincent'sday. While yet at the Collège des Bons Enfants, he had realized howgreat was the need of a special training for young men destined forthe priesthood and had founded a small seminary. After the move to St. Lazare the undertaking had grown and prospered. A college of the samekind had been lately founded by M. Olier, the zealous curé of St. Sulpice; and these two institutions, the first of the famousseminaries which were later to spread all over France, were powerfulfor the reform of the clergy. One hundred and fifty years later theMission Priests of St. Lazare alone were at the head of sixty suchseminaries. 

So the work of the Congregation increased and multiplied until itseemed almost too much for human capacity. But Vincent knew whereinlay the strength of the Mission Priests. "How may we hope to do ourwork?" he would ask. "How can we lead souls to God? How can we stemthe tide of wickedness among the people? Let us realize that this isnot man's work at all, it is God's. Human energy will only hinder itunless directed by God. The most important point of all is that weshould be in touch with Our Lord in prayer. "

Dearest to his heart of all his undertakings was the first and chiefwork of the Congregation--the holding of missions for the poor. Bytwos and threes he would send out his sons to their labors, biddingthem travel to their destination in the cheapest possible way. Theywere to accept neither free quarters nor gifts of any kind. All theirthoughts and prayers were to be concentrated on their work: they wereto live for their mission. Two sermons were to be preacheddaily--simple instructions on the great truths--and those who had notyet made their First Communion were to be catechized. The missionlasted ten or fourteen days, during which the Mission Priests were tohave as much personal contact with the people as possible, visitingthe sick and the infirm, reconciling enemies and showing themselves asthe friends of all. 

It was no easy task to be a good Mission Priest. It meantself-mastery, self-renunciation, self-forgetfulness total andcomplete. It meant the laying aside of much that lies very close to aman's heart. "Unless the Congregation of the Mission is humble, " saidVincent, "and realizes that it can accomplish nothing of any value, but that it is more apt to mar than to make, it will never be of mucheffect; but when it has this spirit it will be fit for the purposes ofGod. "

Yet, in spite of all that such a vocation meant of self-renunciation, year after year the Mission Priests increased in number. "This work isnot human, it is from God, " was Vincent's answer to those whomarvelled at the power of the company for good. 

Chapter 6THE GREY SISTERS

ALTHOUGH many of the great ladies of Paris had enrolled themselvesamong the Ladies of Charity and were ready to help Vincent to theutmost of their ability, much of the work to be done in that greattown was hardly within their scope. The care of the sick in thehospitals alone demanded ceaseless labor and an amount of time whichfew wives and mothers could give. There was a gap which neededfilling, as Vincent could not but see, and he took immediate steps tofill it. 

The instrument he required lay close to his hand in the person ofLouise le Gras, a widow lady who had devoted her life to the serviceof the poor. She had gathered in her house a few young working womenfrom the country to help her in her labors; these were the peopleneeded to step in where the Ladies of Charity fell short. A largerhouse was taken on the outskirts of Paris; good country girls who wereready to give their services without payment were encouraged to devotethemselves to the work, and Louise le Gras, with all the enthusiasm ofher unselfish nature, set to work to train the little company toefficiency. 

Of one thing this holy woman was absolutely convinced--unless themotive with which the work was undertaken was supernatural, neitherperseverance nor success could be expected. "It is of little use forus to run about the streets with bowls of soup, " she would say, "if wedo not make the love of God the object of our effort. If we let go ofthe thought that the poor are His members, our love for them will soongrow cold. " To pray, to labor and to obey was to be the whole duty ofthe members of the little sisterhood. The strength of their influencewas to be the fact that it was Christ to whom they ministered in theperson of His poor. 

To many of these girls, rough and ignorant as they were for the mostpart, life in a great town was full of dangers. Such work as theirscould only be adequately done by women whose lives were consecrated toGod, who were prepared to spend themselves without stint or measure inHis service. "If you aspire to perfection, you must learn to die toself" was the teaching of their foundress. 

Louise le Gras was a soul of prayer, and she knew that more was neededthan fervent philanthropy and a heart full of pity to give the Sisterscourage for the lives they had undertaken to lead. Uncloistered nunswere at that time a thing unheard of, and in the first days of thelittle company the Sisters were often greeted with insults when theyappeared in the streets. In Vincent's own words, they were "acommunity who had no monastery but the houses of the sick, no cellsbut a lodging of the poorest room, no cloisters but the streets, nogrille but the fear of God, and no veil but their own modesty. "

Their life was hard. They rose at four, their food was of the plainestdescription, they spent their days in an unhealthy atmosphere and werehabitually overworked. The life of a true Sister of Charity needed tobe rooted and nourished in the love of God, and no one realized itmore completely than Vincent himself. In his weekly conferences, whenthey met together at St. Lazare, he would set before them the idealsof their vocation, bidding them above all things to be humble andsimple. 

"You see, my sisters, " he would say to them, "you are only roughcountry girls, brought up like myself to keep the flocks. " Heunderstood their temptations and knew their weaknesses, but thestandard was never to be lowered. 

"The Daughters of Charity must go wherever they are needed, " he said, "but this obligation exposes them to many temptations, and thereforethey have special need of strictness. " They were never to pay a visitunless it was part of their work; they were never to receive one; theywere not to stand talking in the street unless it was absolutelynecessary; they were never to go out without leave. 

"What?" Vincent makes them say in one of his conferences, "do you askme to be my own enemy, to be forever denying myself, to do everythingI have no wish to do, to destroy self altogether?"

"Yes, my sisters, " he answers; "and unless you do so, you will beslipping back in the way of righteousness. " Their lives were ofnecessity full of temptations, and only in this spirit could theyresist them. 

Life in the streets of a great city was full of interest to thesecountry girls, and it required a superhuman self-control to go aboutwith downcast eyes, noticing nothing. At the weekly conference one ofthe Sisters acknowledged that if she passed a troop of mountebanks ora peepshow, the desire to look was so strong upon her that she couldonly resist it by pressing her crucifix to her heart and repeating, "OJesus, Thou art worth it all. "

One day Vincent appeared among them in great joy. He had just met agentleman in the street, who had said to him, "Monsieur, today I sawtwo of your daughters carrying food to the sick, and so great was themodesty of one of them that she never even raised her eyes. "

It was many years before he would allow the Sisters, however greattheir desire, to bind themselves by vows to the service of Christ inHis poor. When at last the permission was given, the formula of thevows, which were taken for one year only, ran thus:

"I the undersigned, in the Presence of God, renew the promises of myBaptism, and make the vow of poverty, of chastity, and of obedience tothe Venerable Superior General of the Priests of the Mission in theCompany of the Sisters of Charity, that I may bind myself all thisyear to the service, bodily and spiritual, of the poor and sick ourmasters. And this by the aid of God, which I ask through His Son JesusChrist Crucified, and through the prayers of the Holy Virgin. "

Although vows taken thus annually did not imply a lifelong dedication, the Sisters of Charity who returned to the world were few. Many heroicwomen spent their lives, unknown and unnoticed, in the daily drudgeryof nursing the sick or trying to maintain order in country hospitals. 

"The saintliness of a Daughter of Charity, " said Vincent, "rests onfaithful adherence to the Rule; on faithful service to the namelesspoor; in love and charity and pity; in faithful obedience to thedoctor's orders . . . It keeps us humble to be quite ordinary . . . "

"For the greater honor of Our Lord, their Master and Patron, " runs acertain passage in their Rule, "the Sisters of Charity shall have ineverything they do a definite intention to please Him, and shall tryto conform their life to His, especially in His poverty, His humility, His gentleness, His simplicity and austerity. " Therein was to lietheir strength and the secret of their courage; before them stoodtheir crucified Lord, bidding them suffer and be strong. 

The "Grey Sisters, " as they were called by the poor, not only nursedin the hospitals of Paris, but went far and wide on their errands ofmercy. Scarcely a day passed without an appeal. After the siege ofArras in 1656, Louise le Gras was implored to send help to those ofthe inhabitants who had survived the horrors of the war. Only twoSisters could be spared to meet the requirements of eight parishes;dirt, disease and famine reigned supreme; yet one of them, writing toher Superior to tell her that the other had been obliged to stopworking from sheer exhaustion, says: "I have never heard a word ofcomplaint from her lips or seen anything in her face but perfectcontent. "

A little later the Sisters were sent for to nurse the wounded soldiersin the hospitals of Calais. "My dear daughters, " said Vincent, as hebade them farewell, "be sure that, wherever you go, God will take careof you. "

Only four could be spared, and the soldiers were dying in scores of aninfectious disease. It was at the risk of their lives that the Sisterswent among them, and two out of the four caught the infection anddied. When the news reached Paris, there were numbers eager to taketheir place, and the four who were chosen set off rejoicing. 

The hospitals all over the country were in need of reform, and inParis every new scheme for the relief of the poor called for theSisters' assistance. In the hospital at Marseilles they were tendingthe convicts; when the home for the aged poor was instituted, it wasunder their government; the Foundling Hospital was in their hands. Wherever there was need for zeal and self-denial, there these devotedwomen were to be found, ready to lay down their lives in the serviceof their neighbor. They had renounced what pleasures the world mighthold for them for a life of toil and discomfort; their sacrifice washidden; they lived and died unnoticed. 

"We have no knowledge of our way except that we follow Jesus, " writesthe Mother and Foundress of the company, "always working and alwayssuffering. He could never have led us unless His own resolve had takenHim as far as death on the Cross. "

In 1641 the Sisters of Charity had taken up a fresh work, one whichlay very close to Vincent's heart, the teaching of little children. Itshould be, he told them, as much a part of their vocation as the careof the poor and the sick, and they were to spare no pains to givethese little creatures the solid Christian teaching which nothing canreplace. 

As the years went on, many ladies of noble birth enrolled themselvesin the company, working side by side with their humbler sisters in therelief of every kind of misery; but daughter of peer or of peasant, the Sister of Charity was and is, before all else, the daughter of Godand the servant of the poor. Louise le Gras rejoiced one day when sheheard that one of the Sisters had been severely beaten by a patientand had borne it without a murmur. She, their Superior, and a woman ofgentle birth, led the way in that humility which was their strength. She had been trained by Vincent de Paul and had learned from a livingmodel. 

Chapter 7THE FOUNDLINGS

M. VINCENT was passing one day through the streets of Paris on one ofhis errands of mercy when he saw a beggar mutilating a newborn baby inorder to expose it to the public as an object of pity. Snatching thepoor little creature out of the hands of its tormentor, Vincentcarried it to the "Couche St. Landry, " an institution which had beenfounded for the care of children left homeless and deserted in thestreets. 

The state of things in that household filled him with horror. The"Couche" was managed by a widow, who, helped by two servants, receivedabout four hundred children within the year. These unfortunate littlecreatures, in a state of semi-starvation and utter neglect, werecrowded together into two filthy holes, where the greater number diedof pestilence. Of those who survived, some were drugged with laudanumto silence their cries, while others were put an end to by any othermethod that suggested itself to the wretched women into whose handsthey had fallen. 

The sight of the "Couche" was one that could not fail to rouse anymother's heart to indignation. Vincent took one or two of the Ladiesof Charity to the place and let them judge for themselves. The resultwas a resolve to rescue the little victims at any cost. 

It was not difficult to get possession of the babies; their inhumanguardians were in the habit of selling them for the modest sum of onefranc each to anyone who would take them off their hands. But the costof maintenance was a more serious matter. A house was taken near theCollège des Bons Enfants, and twelve of the miserable little victimswere ransomed and installed there under the care of Louise le Gras andthe Sisters of Charity. 

But this was only a beginning. The work appealed all the more stronglyto the Ladies of Charity for the reason that most of the babies wereunbaptized. It was a question of saving souls as well as bodies, andevery effort was made to empty the Couche. The Ladies, often at thecost of real self-denial, gave every penny they could afford; LouisXIII and his Queen, Anne of Austria, contributed liberally. In tenyears' time Vincent's institution had grown to such an extent that itwas able to open its doors to all the foundlings in Paris. 

Four thousand children had been adopted and cared for, and the numberswere still increasing; finances had been stretched to the breakingpoint; there came a moment when it seemed impossible to meet theexpenses any longer. The Thirty Years' War was raging, and the easternprovinces of France, which had served as a battlefield for thenations, were reduced to the utmost misery. There were many otherclaims on the purses of the Ladies of Charity; the time had come whenit looked as if there was nothing to be done but sorrowfully give upan undertaking that was altogether beyond their power. 

But the very thought of such a possibility nearly broke Vincent'sheart; he determined to make one last effort, and, gathering theLadies together, laid the case before them in all simplicity. 

"I ask of you to say only one word, " he said to them: "will you go onwith the work or no? You are perfectly free; you are bound by nopromise. Yet, before you decide, reflect for one moment on what youhave done, and what you are doing. Your loving care has preserved thelives of a very great number of children, who without your help wouldhave been lost in time as well as eternity; for these innocentcreatures have learned to know and serve God as soon as they were ableto speak. Some of them are beginning to work and to beself-supporting. Does not so good a beginning promise yet betterresults?

"Ladies, it was pity and charity that moved you to adopt these littleones as your children. You were their mothers by grace when theirmothers by nature had deserted them. Are you going to abandon themnow? If you cease to be their mothers you become their judges; theirlives are in your hands. I will now ask you to give your votes: it istime for you to give sentence and to make up your minds that you haveno longer any mercy to spare for them. If in your charity you continueto take care of them, they will live; if not, they will certainly die. It is impossible to deny what your own experience must tell you istrue. "

Vincent paused; his voice was trembling with emotion; he was answeredby the tears of the assembly. It was decided that at any cost theFoundling Hospital must be supported. The work was saved. Thepractical question of expenses, however, remained yet to be faced, andalthough the King increased his subscription, the funds were stillinsufficient. But the Ladies made still greater sacrifices; theSisters of Charity limited themselves to one meal a day, and Vincent, who had already reduced himself to the direst poverty, strained everynerve to help. 

The Foundling Hospital was thus kept going until some years afterVincent's death, when the State took over the responsibility, and thework ceased to depend on voluntary support. 

Of all the good works on which he had spent himself, this was the one, it is said, that appealed to him the most strongly. He knew every babyin the Foundling Hospital by name; the death of any one of them causedhim a very real sorrow, and he would appear among them at the mostunexpected hours. Their innocence and happiness rejoiced him, and hedelighted in watching their pretty baby ways. At the sight of hiskind, homely face, they would gather round him, clinging to his handsor his cassock, certain of a smile or a caress. He came across muchthat was neither innocent nor attractive in his dealings with theworld; he was one who never judged harshly, and who could always seein man, however depraved, the image of his Maker; yet the innocenceand purity of his own soul found their best solace in the company ofthese little creatures whom he had rescued from a double death. Theywere his recreation in the moments of depression which all who workfor the welfare of mankind must experience and which are more intensein proportion as the zeal is stronger. 

He was blamed one day, when the difficulty of providing for thefoundlings was at its height, for having spent upon them alms destinedfor the support of the Mission. 

"Ah!" he cried, "do you think Our Lord will be less good to us becausewe put the welfare of these poor children before our own? Since thatmerciful Saviour said to His disciples, 'suffer the little children tocome unto Me, ' can we who wish to follow Him reject these babies whenthey come to us?"

But if the foundlings had a large share of Vincent's heart, it wasgreat enough for all who were in suffering or distress. The misery inthe provinces of Lorraine and Picardy was hardly to be described; thepeople were literally dying of hunger. The Ladies of Charity had atfirst come nobly to the rescue, but the Foundling Hospital was nowabsorbing all their funds; they could do no more. Then Vincentconceived the idea of printing leaflets describing the sufferings ofthe people and what was being done to help them by the MissionPriests. These were sold at the church doors, in the public squaresand in the streets, and people bought them with such avidity thatVincent soon realized a steady little income. 

In days when there were no such things as newspapers, regular tidingsfrom the provinces were as welcome as they were unexpected. "Godshowered such blessings on the work, " says Vincent, "that the greaternumber of those who read these narratives opened their hands for therelief of the poor. "

The next step was to institute in all the regions where famine wasprevalent public soup kitchens, where nourishing soup, made at thelowest possible cost, was portioned out among the poor. Vincenthimself gave minute directions for its making, prescribing theingredients so that the greatest number of people might be maintainedat the least expense. 

In many places laid waste by fire and sword, the dead remainedunburied for days or even weeks. Heaps of filth and garbage were leftto rot at the doors of houses and in the streets; pestilence and feverreigned supreme. Here, again, the Priests of the Mission and theSisters of Charity devoted themselves to the work that no one elsewould do. Organizing themselves into bands, they went about buryingthe dead, nursing the sick and cleansing the streets, many of themdying of the pestilence. 

It was very necessary, moreover, to take steps to bring back some kindof prosperity to the devastated country. Seeds and grain weredistributed among the peasants, who were encouraged to cultivate theland and taught the best methods of doing so. All these differentundertakings were carried out with the regularity and practical commonsense that were characteristic of the sons of St. Vincent de Paul, accustomed as they were to brave hardship and danger without a thoughtof their own safety. 

If their Superior asked much of others, he himself set the example ingenerosity. It was said of him that he never could keep anything forhis own use, either clothes or money; everything that came into hishands went straight to the poor. There were days at St. Lazare when itseemed uncertain where the daily bread was to come from, or whether itwas to come at all; but Vincent put his trust in God, who never failedhim, and he gave while there was anything to give. 

Several times, while he was organizing relief for the easternprovinces, his heart almost failed him at the magnitude of the work hehad undertaken, and it was at one of these moments that he dared toface the terrible Richelieu, to demand peace in the name of thesuffering people. 

"Monseigneur!" he cried, appearing before the great Cardinal withtears streaming down his cheeks, "give us peace! Have pity on Franceand give us peace. " Richelieu's heart was certainly none of thesoftest, but even he seems to have been touched by this earnestappeal. At all events, he showed no anger. 

"I wish for peace, " he declared, "and I am taking means to procure it, but it does not depend on me alone"; and he dismissed Vincent with anunwonted urbanity. His was not the only hard nature that was softenedby contact with St. Vincent de Paul. The love of this man for hisfellow men was infectious, for it was born of his love for Christ. 

Chapter 8AT COURT

WHEN Louis XIII was on his deathbed, with all the Bishops andArchbishops of France ready to offer him their services, it was M. Vincent, the humble Mission Priest, who prepared him to meet his God. During the last days of the King's life, Vincent never left him, andin his arms Louis XIII breathed his last. Then, having done the workfor which he had come, Vincent slipped quietly out of the palace tohasten back to St. Lazare and his beloved poor. 

Some remarks made by the King during his illness and certain otherwords of Vincent's were remembered by the Queen, Anne of Austria, whohad been left Regent during the minority of her son. Richelieu wasdead, and Mazarin, his pupil, a crafty and unscrupulous Italian, hadsucceeded him as chief Minister of State. His influence over the Queenwas growing daily, but it was not yet strong enough to override allher scruples. She was a good-natured woman, quite ready to do rightwhen it was not too inconvenient, and it was clear to her that of lateyears bishoprics and abbeys had been too often given to most unworthypersons. In France the Crown was almost supreme in such matters; theQueen therefore determined to appoint a "Council of Conscience"consisting of five members, whose business it would be to help herwith advice as to ecclesiastical preferment. 

Mazarin's astonishment and disgust when he heard that Vincent de Paulhad been appointed one of the number were as great as Vincent's ownconsternation. The responsibility and the difficulties which he wouldhave to face filled the humble Mission Priest with the desire toescape such an honor at any price; he even applied to the Queen inperson to beg her to reconsider her decision. 

But Anne was obdurate, and Vincent was forced to yield. "I have neverbeen more worthy of compassion or in greater need of prayers thannow, " he wrote to one of his friends, and his forebodings were notwithout cause. If Mazarin had been unable to prevent the Queen fromnaming Vincent as one of the Council of Conscience, he had at leastsucceeded in securing his own nomination. In the cause of honesty andjustice, and for the Church's welfare, the Superior of St. Lazarewould have to contend with the foremost statesman of the day, aMinister who had built up his reputation by trading on the vices ofmen who were less cunning than he. Well did Vincent know that he wasno match for such a diplomatist; but having once realized that theduty must be undertaken, he determined that there should be noflinching. 

He went to Court in the old cassock in which he went about his dailywork, and which was probably the only one he had. "You are not goingto the palace in that cassock?" cried one of the Mission Priests inconsternation. 

"Why not?" replied Vincent quietly; "it is neither stained nor torn. "

The answer was noteworthy, for a scrupulous cleanliness wascharacteristic of the man. As he passed through the long galleries ofthe Louvre he caught sight of his homely face and figure in one of thegreat mirrors that lined the walls. "A nice clodhopper you are!" hesaid amiably to his own reflection, and passed on, smiling. 

Among the magnificently attired courtiers his shabby appearancecreated not a little merriment. "Admire the beautiful sash in which M. Vincent comes to Court, " said Mazarin one day to the Queen, layinghold of the coarse woolen braid that did duty with poor countrypriests for the handsome silken sash worn by the prelates whofrequented the palace. Vincent only smiled--these were not the thingsthat abashed him; he made no change in his attire. 

At first it seemed as if his influence were to be paramount in theCouncil. Nearly all the priests of Paris had passed through his handsat the ordination retreats and those who belonged to the "TuesdayConferences" were intimately known to him. Who could be better fittedto select those who were suitable for preferment? Mazarin, it is true, objected to the Council on principle, but that was simply because heconsidered that bishoprics and abbeys were useful things to keep inreserve as bribes for his wavering adherents. Certain reforms on whichVincent insisted were not to his mind either, although he offered noopposition. It was not his way to act openly, and he bided his time;the wonder was that Vincent was able to do what he did so thoroughly. 

In the meantime it began to dawn upon the public that the Superior ofSt. Lazare was for the moment a man of influence. It was already wellknown that he was a man of immense charity, with many institutions onhis hands, several of which were in urgent need of funds. It seemed avery simple thing to offer him a large sum of money for the poor oncondition that he would put in a good word for a brother or a nephewwho was just the man for a bishopric or anything else that mightoffer. 

Vincent's reception of these proposals was disconcerting. "Godforbid!" he would cry indignantly. "Better that we should all gowithout the barest necessities of life. "

Some would come with a recommendation from the Queen herself, whichmade things doubly embarrassing; but in spite of everything Vincentremained faithful to his first determination to choose for bishopricsno priests save those worthy of the position by reason of their virtueand learning. 

Now, it was exceedingly unpleasant for needy noblemen to be obliged tosue to a peasant priest in a shabby cassock for the preferment oftheir relations; but it became quite intolerable when the shabbypriest refused to listen. 

"You are an old lunatic, " said a young man who had been refused abenefice through Vincent's agency. 

"You are quite right, " was the only answer, accompanied by agood-natured smile. 

Another day a gentleman who had come to recommend his son for abishopric was so angry when Vincent explained that he did not see hisway to grant his request that he answered the "impertinent peasant"with a blow. Vincent, without the slightest allusion to thistreatment, quietly escorted him downstairs and saw him into hiscarriage. Insulted another day in public by a magistrate whoseinterests he had refused to forward, the Superior of St. Lazare madethe noble answer: "Sir, I am sure that you try to acquit yourselfworthily in your office; you must allow me the same freedom of actionin mine. "

But Vincent's strangest adventure was with a Court lady of high rank, a certain Duchess in the household of the Queen. Catching her royalmistress in an unguarded moment, this lady succeeded in inducing theQueen to promise the bishopric of Poitiers to her son, a young man ofvery bad character. The Queen's courage, however, failed her at theprospect of breaking the news to M. Vincent, and she commissioned theDuchess to let him know of the appointment. Off went the great lady toSt. Lazare, and, flouncing into the Superior's presence, haughtilydeclared her errand. Vincent, aghast, begged her to sit down and talkthe matter over, but Madame declined curtly. She was in a great hurry, she replied; the Queen had spoken; there was nothing more to be said. She would be obliged if he would make out the deed of nomination andtake it to Her Majesty to sign. 

What was to be done? To resist would only provoke; submission seemedthe wisest, if not the only course. 

Next morning at an early hour M. Vincent made his appearance at thepalace with a roll of paper in his hand and was shown into the Queen'spresence. 

"Oh, " said Her Majesty, not without some embarrassment, "you havebrought me the nomination of the Bishop of Poitiers. " Without a word, Vincent handed her the roll, which she proceeded to unfold. 

"Why, " she cried, "what is this? It is blank! The form is not drawn upat all!"

"If Your Majesty's mind is made up, " said Vincent quietly, "I must begyou to write down your wishes yourself; it is a responsibility whichmy conscience forbids me to take. " Then, noticing the hesitation ofthe Queen: "Madame, " he said hotly, "this man whom you intend to makea bishop spends his life in public houses and is carried home drunkevery night. That his family should want to get him out of Paris isnot surprising, but I ask you if an episcopal see is a fitting retreatfor such a person. "

Convinced by Vincent's vehement presentation of the facts of the case, the Queen consented to revoke the nomination, but she openly confessedto him that she had not courage to face the Duchess. "Suppose you goand make my peace with her, " she said pleasantly, despatching theunfortunate Vincent on this very disagreeable errand. 

He was shown into the lady's presence and carried out his mission withthe greatest possible tact, but the Duchess could not control herfury. Seizing a heavy stool, she flung it at the head of the unwelcomemessenger, who bowed and retired from the house with the bloodstreaming from a wound in his forehead. The brother who hadaccompanied him and who was waiting in the antechamber, justlyindignant, begged to be allowed to give the great lady a piece of hismind. "Come on, " said Vincent; "our business lies in anotherdirection. " "Is it not strange, " he said, smiling, a few momentslater, as he tried to staunch the blood with his handkerchief, "towhat lengths the affection of a mother for her son will go!"

Such incidents did not pass unnoticed by Mazarin, who looked withjealous eyes on Vincent's influence with the Queen. As time went on heresolved at any cost to rid the Court of the presence of this man, whose simple, straightforward conduct baffled the wily and defeatedtheir plans; but an attempt to get him ejected from the Council metwith such stormy opposition that the Prime Minister determined tochange his tactics. There was no man whom he revered or admired somuch as M. Vincent, he declared enthusiastically; no one who was ofsuch use in the Council of Conscience. 

But the summoning of the Council rested with Mazarin, and theintervals between its meetings became longer and longer. Anne ofAustria's sudden spurt of energy--she was a thoroughly indolent womanby nature--began to die out as she became accustomed to her newresponsibilities; she was only too glad to leave all matters of Stateto a man who declared that his only desire was to save her worry andtrouble. In course of time the Council of Conscience ceased to meet, and the distribution of bishoprics and abbeys fell once more into thehands of Mazarin, who used them, as of old, for his own ends. 

Vincent de Paul, in bitter grief and sorrow, was forced to witness anabuse that he had no longer any power to check. "I fear, " he wrote inafter years to a friend, "that this detestable barter of bishopricswill bring down the curse of God upon the country. " A few years later, when civil war, pestilence and famine were devastating France, andJansenism was going far to substitute despair for hope in the heartsof men, his words were remembered. 

Chapter 9THE JANSENISTS

WHILE Vincent de Paul was striving, by charity and patience, to renewall things in Christ, the Jansenists* were busy spreading theirdangerous doctrines. When the Abbé de St. Cyran, the apostle ofJansenism in France, first came to Paris, Vincent, like many otherholy men, was taken in by the apparent piety and austerity of hislife. It was only when he knew him better, and when St. Cyran hadbegun to impart to him some of his ideas on grace and the authority ofthe Church, that Vincent realized on what dangerous ground he wasstanding. 

* So called from their founder, Cornelius Jansen, Bishop of Utrecht, who died, however, before his heresy had been condemned. 

"He said to me one day, " wrote the Saint long afterwards to one of hisMission Priests, "that it was God's intention to destroy the Church asit is now, and that all who labor to uphold it are working against Hiswill; and when I told him that these were the statements made byheretics such as Calvin, he replied that Calvin had not beenaltogether in the wrong, but that he had not known how to make a gooddefense. "

After such a statement as that there could be no longer question offriendship between Vincent and St. Cyran, although the latter, anxiousnot to break with a man who was held in such universal esteem asVincent de Paul, tried to persuade him that he, St. Cyran, was reallyin the right, justifying himself in the elusive language which wasmore characteristic of the Jansenists than the frank declaration hehad just made. 

Vincent, however, was too honest and straightforward, too loyal a sonof the Church, to be deceived. Realizing fully the danger of suchopinions, he soon became one of the most vigorous opponents of theJansenists, who, indeed, soon had cause to look upon Vincent as one ofthe most powerful of their enemies. But although he hated the heresywith all the strength of his upright soul, Vincent's charitable heartwent out in pity to those who were infected with its taint, and it waswith compassion rather than indignation that he would speak of St. Cyran and his adherents. Not until they had been definitely condemnedby the Church did he cease his efforts to win them from theirerrors--efforts which were received, for the most part, in a spirit ofvindictive bitterness. 

The teaching of the Jansenists, like that of most other heretics, hadbegun by being fairly plausible. The necessity of reform among theclergy had come home to them forcibly, as it had to Vincent himself;the Jansenists' lives were austere and mortified. The book whichcontained their heretical doctrines, the Augustinus of Jansenius, wasread by only a few, and these mostly scholars. That the Sacramentsshould be treated with the greatest respect and approached only bythose who were fit to approach them seemed at first sight a veryreverent and very proper maxim. Many people of holy lives took up thisteaching enthusiastically, among them some of Vincent's own MissionPriests. When Antoine Arnauld, the youngest of the famous family whichdid so much to further Jansenism, published his book _FrequentCommunion_, which might more truly have been called "_In_frequentCommunion, " it was received with delight and eagerly read. ThatVincent clearly saw the danger is shown by one of his letters to amember of the Jansenist company who had written protesting against theattitude that St. Lazare was taking in the matter:

"Your last letter says that we have done wrong in going against publicopinion concerning the book _Frequent Communion_ and the teaching ofJansenius. It is true that there are only too many who misuse thisDivine Sacrament. I myself am the most guilty, and I beg you to praythat God may pardon me . . . . You say also that as Jansenius read allthe works of St. Augustine ten times, and his treatises on gracethirty times, the Mission Priests cannot safely question his opinions. To which I reply that those who wish to establish new doctrines arealways learned and always study deeply the authors of which they makeuse. But that does not prevent them from falling into error, and weshall have no excuse for sharing in their opinions in defiance of thecensure of their doctrine. "

The letter was answered by a second protest in favor of Arnauld'sbook, which was met by Vincent with equal energy:

"It may be, as you say, " he writes, "that certain people in France andItaly have drawn benefit from the book; but for a hundred to whom ithas been useful in teaching more reverence in approaching theSacrament, ten thousand have been driven away . . . For my part, Itell you that if I paid the same attention to M. Arnauld's book as youdo, I should give up both Mass and Communion from a sense of humility, and I should be in terror of the Sacrament, regarding it, in thespirit of the book, as a snare of Satan and as poison to the souls ofthose who receive it under the usual conditions approved by theChurch. Moreover, if we confine ourselves only to what he says of theperfect disposition without which one should not go to Communion, isthere anyone on earth who has such a high idea of his own virtue as tothink himself worthy? Such an opinion seems to be held by M. Arnauldalone, who, having made the necessary conditions so difficult that St. Paul himself might have feared to approach, does not hesitate to tellus repeatedly that he says Mass daily. "

It is evident that so cold and narrow a teaching could not but berepugnant to a man of Vincent's breadth and charity. The monstrousheresy held by the Jansenists that Christ did not die for all men, butfor the favored few alone, filled him with a burning indignation. Noone could have deplored more than he did the unworthy use of theSacraments; but he held firmly to the truth that they had beeninstituted by a loving Saviour as man's greatest strength and as aprotection against temptation and sin. And he was not going to believethat He who had been called the Friend of sinners and had eaten anddrunk in their company would exact from men as a condition ofapproaching Him a perfection that they could never hope to attainwithout Him. 

Indeed, the chief aim of the company of Mission Priests was to drawthe people to the Sacraments as to the great source of grace, and itseemed to Vincent that the means taken by the Jansenists to destroycertain evils were very much more dangerous than the evils themselves. It was better, according to his opinion, even at the risk of abuse, tomake the reconciliation of a sinner to his God too easy rather thantoo hard. The rule of the Mission Priests lays down that "one of theprincipal points of our Mission is to inspire others to receive theSacraments of Penance and of the Eucharist frequently and worthily. "The teaching of the Jansenists sought, on the contrary, to inspiresuch awe of the Sacraments that neither priests nor people would dareto approach them save at very rare intervals. 

It was the great mass of the people--poor, simple and suffering, thosechildren of God whom Vincent loved and in whose service the whole ofhis life had been spent--whose salvation was in danger. It was againstthem that the Jansenists were shutting the doors of salvation. Is itany wonder that Vincent de Paul fought against them as only men ofstrong conviction can fight, with heart and soul aglow in the battle?Compared with this all other evils were light. His business was torelieve suffering, to comfort sorrow, but above all to help men tosave their souls. There could be no yielding, no compromise witherror. 

Rightly, therefore, did the Jansenists see in Vincent de Paul the mostdangerous of their enemies, and it was not surprising that both duringhis life and after his death they hated him and assailed him withabuse. He was "insincere, treacherous, a coward, " they declared. Theyspoke of the "great betrayal"; they held him up to ridicule as anignorant peasant; but Vincent went quietly on his way. The question"What will people say?" did not exist for him. He simply did his dutyas it was made clear to him by God and his own conscience. It was hardto fight against such uncompromising honesty as his, and more thanonce the man whose ignorance the Jansenists had ridiculed tore theirspecious arguments to tatters with the weapon of his strong commonsense. 

Nevertheless, the dangers of Jansenism were a continual anxiety toVincent, and there were other sorrows no less poignant to be borne. Foreign missions had been established in Africa and Madagascar, and inthe latter station no less than twenty-seven Mission Priests had losttheir lives. Some, it is true, had died the martyr's death; but thework had not prospered. It was difficult to get news from farcountries in those days, and there were often such long intervalsbetween the death of one priest and the arrival of another that anygood that had been done was lost. 

"There is nothing on earth that I desire so much as to go as yourcompanion in the place of M. Gondrée, " wrote Vincent to one who wasjust about to set forth on this dangerous mission; but the darker sideof the picture is not left untouched. "You will need the strongestcourage, " he writes; "you will need faith as great as that ofAbraham. "

The Madagascar Mission was, humanly speaking, a failure; the nativeswere hostile, the missionaries not sufficiently numerous; it wasnecessary in the end to give up the enterprise. 

The Lazarists were at work also in Poland, in Ireland, and in theHebrides. Vincent had a gift for rousing zeal and charity in thehearts of others, and there were always plenty of volunteers for themost dangerous posts. But there were times when his heart nearlyfailed him at the news that came to him of the sufferings of some ofhis sons on their far-distant missions. There were times when apparentfailure weighed him down with sorrow, and the death of young MissionPriests who had given their lives for the salvation of their fellowmencaused a grief almost too heavy to be borne. But Vincent knew

How far high failure overtops the boundsOf low success. 

He could afford to leave his work and theirs in the hands of God. Hehad done what he could, and God asks no more of any man. 

Chapter 10TROUBLES IN PARIS

The Parliament at last took up the matter; men went about the streetsof Paris shouting "Down with Mazarin!" A revolution was feared, andthe Queen, with her young son, fled to St. Germain. The Royal troopsin the meantime, under Condé, were blockading Paris; the rebellionknown as the "Fronde" had begun. 

Vincent de Paul was in a difficult position. His sympathies werewholly with the suffering people; but, although it had long ceased tomeet, he was still a member of the Council of Conscience and owedallegiance to the Royal party. 

What would become of the poor in Paris if the town were reduced tofamine? This was the thought that was uppermost in his mind. On theother hand, he had always insisted that the Congregation of theMission should in no way mix itself up with politics. The life of itsmembers was to be a hidden life of prayer and labor for souls. Thesafest course was obviously to remain neutral and take no part in thematter; but his own safety was the last consideration likely to movehim. Was it his duty to remain silent? That was the vital question. Could he do any good by speaking? Long and earnestly did he pray forguidance and, without a thought of the consequences to himself, decided at last to act. 

Judging of others in the light of his own straightforward honesty, itseemed to him that if it were once clearly represented to the Queenthat it was Mazarin's presence alone that prevented peace, she couldnot fail to see that it was her duty to force him to withdraw. Surrounded as she was by courtiers who did not dare to tell her thetruth, she might be ignorant of how much she herself was to blame inthe matter. He had shamed her into doing what was right in the matterof the Bishop of Poitiers. Might he not succeed in awakening herconscience once more?

It was on his knees in the Church of St. Lazare that Vincent resolvedon the action that was at best only a forlorn hope, but still worthtrying. With his usual prompt energy, the old man of seventy-threemounted his horse and, accompanied only by his secretary, duCourneau, set out for St. Germain. The Seine was in flood and thewater breast-deep on the bridge over which they had to ride. DuCorneau [sic] avowed afterwards that he was quaking with fright; butVincent, though wet to the skin, scarcely seemed to notice that allwas not as usual and rode on through the floods in silence. Arrived atSt. Germain, he asked to see the Queen, who, thinking that he had beensent by the people to make their peace with her, admitted him at onceto her presence. 

With the straightforward simplicity that characterized all hisdealings, he proceeded to state his errand. He had come, he said, toask the Queen, for the sake of her country and her people, to ridherself of Mazarin and to forgive the rebels. 

Anne of Austria listened in silence and gave no sign of eithersympathy or displeasure. When the speaker had ended, she quietlyreferred him to Mazarin himself. 

Vincent's hopes must have sunk low indeed at such a suggestion, but hewas determined to go through with what he had begun. Confronted withthe Cardinal, he earnestly represented to him that it was his duty tosacrifice himself for the good of the country; that his retirementwould be an act of noble unselfishness which could not fail to win theblessing of Christ; that it would put an end to the sufferings underwhich France was groaning and save many innocent people from a fearfuland horrible death. Mazarin had a sense of humor, and it was perhapsthe only thing about him that responded to this appeal to his betterfeelings. It no doubt appeared to him sufficiently ludicrous thatanyone should expect him to sacrifice himself for the sake of others, and probably those around him would have shared his opinion. 

Yet Vincent was justified in his experiment. Long as had been hisexperience of the sin and misery of men, it had not taught him, anymore than it did his Divine Master, to despair of human nature. He hadonly employed his usual methods with Mazarin: methods that hadprevailed with so many souls. He had appealed to the desire for goodwhich he believed lay hidden in the heart of every man, no matter howdeeply it might be buried under the refuse of a wasted life. He hadappealed and failed--his mission had borne no fruit, yet he could notregret that he had undertaken it, although the consequences were to beserious for himself. For during his absence the fact that he had goneto St. Germain had leaked out among the people, and in one moment ofanger all his claims on their love and gratitude were forgotten. 

"M. Vincent has betrayed us to the Queen!" was the cry in the streetsof Paris, while the mob, falling on St. Lazare, pillaged it from topto bottom, carrying off everything on which they could lay hands. Vincent had gained nothing and lost all; it was not even safe for himto return to Paris, so great was the fury of the people; he had alsowon for himself the ill will of both Mazarin and the Queen. 

Yet with his usual humility and patience, he blamed no one buthimself. He had done, he declared solemnly to du Courneau, that whichhe would have wished to have done were he lying on his deathbed; thathe had failed was due solely and entirely to his own unworthiness. 

And now, since it was better for every reason that he should notreturn to Paris, he determined to undertake a visitation of theCongregation of the Mission Priests and Sisters of Charity in everycenter where they were working in France. In spite of his wearinessand his seventy-three years, he set forth on his journey, riding theold horse that was kept to carry him now that he could no longertravel on foot. 

The suffering and misery that he witnessed, the horrors of famine andof war, only seemed to redouble his zeal to win the souls of men fortheir Maker. He knew the purifying force of suffering borne for God;he knew also the danger of despair. These poor creatures must betaught at any cost to lift their hearts to God, to bear their anguishpatiently, to remember amid what agonies the Son of God had given Hislife for them. Wherever he went, his burning words and heroic exampleinfused new life and courage into the hearts of his sons and daughtersin Christ, who, in the life of abnegation they had undertaken, hadoften good reason for despondency. 

Traveling in these lawless times was both difficult and dangerous, forthe country roads were infested with robbers, but Vincent had no fear. He was seldom free from illness, which was sometimes increased by theprivations he had to undergo, but he traveled on without resting. 

Yet, amid all the new suffering which he had to witness and relieve, he was always mindful of his dear poor in Paris, which was stillbesieged by the troops of Condé. He had obtained a promise from theQueen during their last interview to let grain be taken into the townto feed the starving inhabitants, but she had not had sufficientenergy to see that it was carried out. 

The people were beginning to realize what they had lost in M. Vincentand to suspect that they had misjudged him. Hunger at last forced themto make terms with the Royal party, although the hated Mazarin wasstill supreme, and the Queen and her young son re-entered Paris intriumph. 

But even Anne of Austria was not so foolish as to make her entry withthe Cardinal at her side, and during the few weeks which still elapsedbefore he made his appearance in the capital, the Queen, free for amoment from the evil influence that stifled all her better impulses, wrote to Vincent, begging him to return. He was ill at Richelieu whenthe message reached him, and the Duchess d'Aiguillon, one of the mostdevoted of his Ladies of Charity, sent a little carriage to fetch him. She had known him long enough, however, to be sure that his love ofmortification would prevent him from availing himself of what he wouldcertainly look upon as a luxury. The carriage was accompanied by aletter from the Queen and the Archbishop of Paris ordering him invirtue of obedience to use it in the future for all his journeys. Heobeyed, but sorely against the grain, and as long as he was obliged toavail himself of it always referred to the little carriage as his"disgrace. "

"Come and see the son of a poor villager riding in a carriage, " hewould say to his friends when he took leave of them; and indeed, "M. Vincent's little carriage" soon became well known in Paris. It wasalways at the disposal of anyone who wanted it, and when Vincent usedit himself it was generally shared by some of his beloved poor. Thefact that it came in handy for taking cripples for a drive or the sickto the hospital was the only thing that reconciled him to itspossession. 

But the troubles of the Fronde were not yet at an end, and withMazarin's return to Paris the discontent broke out afresh. The peoplewere glad enough during the troublous times that followed to haveVincent once more in their midst. 

Chapter 11"CONFIDO"

WHEN at last peace was partially restored to the country, the numberof poor people had enormously increased, and the charities thatalready existed were unable to cope with the misery and poverty inParis. It was at this time that Vincent conceived the idea of foundinga house of refuge for old men and women who had no means of gaining alivelihood. The foundation was placed in the charge of the Sisters ofCharity. Work was provided for those who were able to do it; theproceeds went to keep up the establishment. 

So successful was the venture and so happy were the poor creatures whofound a comfortable home and kind treatment in their old age that theLadies of Charity determined to found an institution on the same linesfor all the beggars of Paris. A large piece of ground that had beenused for the manufacture of saltpetre was accordingly obtained fromthe King, who also gave a large contribution of money toward theundertaking. The hospital, known as "La Salpêtrière" from the use towhich the ground had formerly been put, was soon in course ofbuilding, but the beggars who were destined to 1711 it, many of whomwere worthless vagabonds, showed very little desire for being shut upand employed in regular work. Vincent would have preferred to begin ina small way with those who were willing to come in; but the Ladies ofCharity, in their enthusiasm, declared that it would be for thebeggars' own good to bring them in by force, and the King was of theiropinion. The Salpêtrière was soon crowded, while the sturdy rascalswho infested the streets and begged under pretense of infirmity weresuddenly cured at the prospect of leading a regular life and workingfor their living. Begging, at the risk of being taken off to theSalpêtrière, soon became an unpopular occupation, and the streets ofParis were a good deal safer in consequence. 

In 1658, two years before his death, Vincent de Paul gave to theCongregation of Mission Priests its Rule and Constitutions. It was thework of God, he explained to them; there was nothing of his own in it. If there had been, he confessed humbly, it would only make him fearfullest his touch might spoil the rest. Those who listened to him and whohad been witnesses of his long and holy life, his wisdom and hischarity, knew better. 

St. Lazare was a center where all fervent souls zealous for theservice of God and the good of others met to find counsel andinspiration at the feet of its holy founder. Letters from all parts ofthe world and from all kinds of people in need of help and counselkept the old man continually busy during the time he was not givinginstructions, visiting the sick, or receiving those who came to askhis advice. He rose at four o'clock to the very end of his life andspent the first hours of the day in prayer, and this in spite of thefact that the last years of his life were years of acute bodilysuffering. 

His legs and feet, which for a long time had caused him great pain, became so swollen and inflamed that every step was torture. Ulcers, which opened and left gaping wounds, next made their appearance. Itwas said that in earlier years he had taken the place of anunfortunate man who had been condemned to the galleys and who was inconsequence on the verge of despair, and that the malady from which hesuffered had been caused by the heavy fetters with which his legs hadbeen chained to the rowers' bench. It was several months, ran thetale, before his heroic action had been discovered and he was set atliberty, to bear for the rest of his life the penalty of his nobledeed. When asked if this story were true, Vincent would change thesubject as quickly as possible--which to those who knew how eagerly healways disclaimed, if he could, any action likely to bring honor tohimself, seemed a convincing proof of its truth. With the greatestdifficulty he was induced during the last years of his life to have afire in his room and to use an extra coverlet, though he reproachedhimself bitterly in his last conferences to the Mission Priests andthe Sisters of Charity "for this immortification. "

But there were sufferings harder than those of the body. Mazarin wasstill in power; the "accursed barter of bishoprics" was still goingon; and Vincent was forced to witness the very abuses against which hehad fought so bravely during the brief time of his influence at Court. 

The year 1660 brought two great sorrows: the death of M. Portail, theoldest and best beloved of Vincent's companions at St. Lazare, andthat of Louise le Gras, the devoted Superior of the Sisters of Charityand the woman who would become known as St. Louise de Marillac. "Youare going a little before me, " he wrote to the latter when he heardthat her life was despaired of, "but I shall meet you soon in Heaven. "He was unable to go to her, for he could scarcely walk and was rackedwith fever. He would struggle on his crutches as far as the chapel tohear the Mass that he could no longer say and then go back again tohis room, where he sat at a little table, working to the last, with agentle smile of welcome for all who sought him. 

The letters written during the last days of Vincent's life are full ofthe same good sense, the same lucid clearness of thought, the samesympathy and knowledge of the human heart that always characterizedhim. Two months before his death he gathered the Sisters of Charitytogether and gave them a conference on the saintly death of theirSuperior. With touching humility he asked his dear daughters to pardonhim for all the faults by which he might have offended them, for anyannoyance that his "want of polish" might have caused them, and hethanked them for their faithful cooperation in all his schemes ofcharity. 

It was now such agony for him to walk to the chapel that his sonsbegged him to allow them to fit up a little oratory next to his roomwhere Mass might be said, but Vincent would not hear of it. Then theyimplored him to allow himself to be carried in a chair, but, unwillingto give others the trouble of carrying him, he evaded the questionuntil six weeks before his death, when he could no longer supporthimself on his crutches. During the nights of anguish, when histortured limbs could find no rest on the hard straw mattress which hecould never be prevailed upon to change for something softer, nocomplaint ever passed his lips. "My Saviour, my dear Saviour" was hisonly exclamation. On the days that followed these sleepless nights ofpain, he was always smiling and serene. In spite of the weakness thatoppressed him, he had help, advice and sympathy for everybody. 

His reward was close at hand. On the 26th of September, 1660, havingbeen carried to the chapel for Mass and Holy Communion, he was takenback to his room, where he fell asleep in his chair from sheerexhaustion, as he had so often done before. The brother who had chargeof him, thinking that he slept longer and more heavily than usual, awakened him and spoke to him. Vincent smiled and answered, butinstantly fell asleep again. The doctor was sent for, and roused himagain. Once more the same bright smile lit up the old face; heanswered, but had not sufficient strength to speak more than a fewwords. In the evening they gave him the Last Sacraments, and he passedthe night in silent prayer. In the early morning one of the priestswho belonged to the "Conferences, " and who was making a retreat in thehouse, asked the dying man to bless all the priests for whom he haddone so much and to pray that his spirit might be with them. "May God, who began the good work, bring it to perfection, " was the humbleanswer. 

A little later he was heard to murmur softly, "_Confido_"--"I trust";and with these words on his lips, as a child puts its hand into thatof his Father, he gently gave up his soul to God.