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Front matter

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Introduction

A dominant characteristic of the Frenchman is his love for his native land. For his country he is prepared to live and, if necessary, to die. What though tears and blood at times dim its history’s pages—what though craft and cruelty, lust of power, and hatred of God distinguish many of its rulers—what though he himself

_ is made the victim of their cruelties—yet does he even in his agony absolve his country. Rulers and Revolutions come and go—blood-red clouds sweep her horizon. Yet in his sight his country’s escutcheon remains ever stainless. His France remains with her lilies loved and fair—a land whose history is woven of culture, faith and chivalry—whose future is bright with promise, whose destiny is with God.

Even though other lands are also blessed, yet he feels for his France that “non fecit taliter omni nationi.”” Is she not the Eldest Daughter of the Faith? —and has she not her special mission—to teach and to help her sister nations in the family of Christendom?

And to this abiding love of his is added his determination in his homeland to live—there to die, and in the little cemetery to seek his rest. The great world outside may for the moment beckon him forth. It has gold to give and crowns to offer. He may yield—he may follow the phantom, but ever in his heart is the hope that soon, his exile ended, he can greet his native land once more.

v vi INTRODUCTION

And yet though that love be deep and abiding there is a force that can dethrone it; there is a voice, a call that is stronger than that of home or kindred—a voice that rises higher and strikes deeper than all others. It is the voice of God—it is His call to them to leave father and mother and home and country—to come out from them and these and follow Him. In answer to it his response is sudden and complete. Lo! Thy servant heareth! My country I love well, but my God more. Thy will be done. Behold, I come!

In obedience to the divine mandate to go forth and teach, the French have gone in such numbers and with such zeal that to-day it may well be said of them there is no region of the world that is not filled with their labors. For three hundred years this nation of home lovers has given to God an ever-increasing army of Apostles, whose feet shod with His Gospel of Peace have trod shores of distant lands, crossed the plains, scaled the mountains—bearing the glad tidings of the Gospel.

And it is furthermore to be remembered that the French lead the world not only in the numbers and devotion of their missionaries, but in the quality and extent of their individual sacrifice, The Frenchman never does anything by halves. If it is God’s will that he should go, then go he will, and there is nothing prosaic or limited in his response; and the completeness of his sacrifice is expressed in the prayer he makes and the hope he cultivates—that the Lord will show him the way to the Supreme Sacrifice. He cherishes in his heart the hope of martyrdom. Hence he asks that the hardest mission, the most distant country, the most barbarous and benighted people be made the objects of his zeal. In God’s name he goes to conquer and to die.

And so it was that in early years the call came to

INTRODUCTION vil

Philippine Duchesne to leave her native land, her beloved Dauphiny, to go to some far-off country to be a light-bearer to savage races who dwelt in darkness and in the shadow of Death. She had much to bind her to France and Dauphiny—devoted parents of high culture and splendid traditions. The land of Dauphiny had for its neighbor on the north the home of St. Francis de Sales; while the Alpine range formed its eastern horizon. So its people, as with the dwellers in the higher altitudes, blended the living faith with the love of liberty and lofty thought.

Here among her people she grew up, nursing in her soul her dream and hope that somehow God would _- bring her the opportunity of going out to serve Him somewhere—anywhere—that demanded all her courage, all His grace. Long years were to pass, and many trials were before her. She enters as a student the Visitation Convent which the gentle Francis had caused to be set up there on the heights above the city— devoted pupil; she joins the Visitation Community to become therein a devoted novice. Parental objections there were, but her goodness and constancy overcame them. Then came the French Revolution. The soldiers of liberty and fraternity closed the convent, and confiscated the property; drove the religious out into the streets, murdering all they could conveniently.

Cast in such a maelstrom one will emerge either an angel or a devil, and out of it came this Servant of God, purified as metal is by fire, her spirit still grandly heroic though all around her was ashes. She essays the task of restoring the convent on the hill, but her sisters are gone—some to God, others in their old age to find some asylum where they may rest. She struggles, she prays, but all in vain. Like one who walks through viii INTRODUCTION halls deserted she sees all around ruins and emptiness.

It was then that she felt, as she was often to feel in the future, that notwithstanding all her efforts, all her prayers, all her sacrifices, she had utterly failed. Soon, however, came the benefit of her failure. At that very time there was being established up in the north of France a community that appealed to her in her desolation, because of its warmth, its high purpose, its spirit of sacrifice. The Sacred Heart of Jesus brought it into being, and to the Sacred Heart it promises love and eternal fidelity. Her Visitandine house while it flourished had a like spirit. It too learned “of Him Who was meek and humble of heart.” Hence it was for her an easy transition to go over to the Society wherein she saw flourishing all her dead hopes—all her early fervor.

And now as a member of this new Community her hopes of distant service, of complete immolation, returned. Years must pass—years, let us say, of preparation—until at length the Bishop of the Louisiana Territory in Western America comes to the new Community begging for Sisters. Out in that far-off land are colonists a few, and Indians many; but no one to tell them of God or duty. The great Foundress released to this distant mission her best beloved and most trusted daughter, who, with her few companions, starts on a long weary journey with supreme trust in the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

A voyage of months over stormy seas—New Orleans at last. Then the great river to St. Louis; then Florissant and St. Charles—now here—now there, seeking in the midst of many trials and privations to set up the reign of the Sacred Heart—to bring the children whom she gathered to learn the love and mercy and goodness of God.

INTRODUCTION ix

Then, after years of struggle she sees her life dream come true. Out to Sugar Creek in Kansas, where dwelt the Potawatomi, the voice of the missionary calls her, and though broken in health she responds with alacrity.

Among the savages she makes her last stand—teaching, praying, struggling on until the voice again bids her return to St. Charles to die.

There are those who delight in picturing the big-

ness and beauty that distinguished our colonial life a hundred years ago. They like to tell of its broad freedoms, its generous people, its flowering savannahs, rich vegetation, its glorious sunsets. All of which has literary value. It gives one side of the picture; but nearer to the truth and much more relevant is the story so admirably told in the following pages of the heroic Philippine struggling with the crude world around her—the log cabin, the wooden shack with an improvised door of some scanty sheeting to break the wintry winds; the frozen water, the frozen fingers, the hunger and pain, No—for them in exile, there was only One who could make it bearable, and it is He whom Philippine ever served and loved.

Wherever duty called her, her first care was to see erected the Altar, and with her Saviour present the crude and wind-swept cabin became a palace. Her own cot was always next the little chapel, and at its threshold day and night she kept vigil. There on retiring her Sisters left her and there they found her when morning came. She thought that her life was fruitless and a failure. (It is a way the Saints have of regarding their life work.) Yet, if we look at the rich harvests that have been gathered from the seed that she has sown, the many souls won to God by her zeal, the children instructed, the many religious houses that have been x INTRODUCTION founded by her and by those whom she formed in religion, the marked devotion to the Sacred Heart of Whose Kingdom in this western land she was the John the Baptist, we must conclude that her was under heaven a life most fruitful and blessed.

Her ashes rest in its little shrine out at St. Charles under the maples and the stars. Her strong influence is felt and her blessed memory revered all through this western country. ‘The children’s children rise up to call her blessed. Her cause is before the Holy See, and urgent prayers go up to the Sacred Heart that her cause before God and His Vicar may prosper. Mayest thou, St. Madeleine Sophie, who loved our Philippine as in Christ the one nearest and dearest to thee on earth—whom thou scarcely couldst part with even for the while that she might come to establish with us the reign of the Sacred Heart—mayest thou, Oh, blessed Saint, now that we celebrate the day of thy crowning—not forget thy best beloved nor let her linger in the grand processional of heaven. Intercede, we beseech thee, that God’s holy will be manifested in her regard and that with thee Holy Church soon may crown another Servant of the Sacred Heart!

Joun J. GLENNON, Archbishop of St. Louis.

Sr. Louis, Missouri, March 19, 1926, Feast of St. Joseph.

Part I. The Training Of An Apostle Chapter

In THE ScHoot or GENEROSITY, 1769-1788 .

. Lessons or DeracHMENT, 1788-1794 .

. Tue ScHoou or Sympatuy, 1794-1801 .

. Tue ScHoou or THE Cross, 1801-1804

VII.

Tur TRAINING CONSUMMATED, 1817-1818

Part II. The Apostolate

. Tue CompPaAssION OF AN APOSTLE, 1821- 11824 . How an ApvostiLeE Gives, 1824-1830

. In Love Wire tHE Cross, 1830-1840

. Joy IN THE APoOsTOLATE, 1840-1842

. Tue ConsumMATION, 1851-1852 . . .

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ILLUSTRATIONS

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CHAPTER I

In THE ScHooL or GENEROSITY—1769-1788

“Throughout their history the people of Dauphiny have not ceased to show themselves in love with independence and high spirit; they have been enterprising, energetic and persevering. . . . Their flight has passed beyond the nest. Pennae nido majores.” ; PAUL BERRET.

Dauphiny, though French in language, customs, nationality and spirit, is In many ways a province apart. It can boast a varied landscape, yet its own peculiar character is typified by its snowcapped peaks, its crystal lakes, its pine forests, rather than by the smiling valley and the flowery mead. Although it was more than once a buffer state, its very history stands apart from that of France. In almost prehistoric times its border line enclosed the thatched huts of the Allobroges, the “feroces spiritus,” bold enough in a later day to defy and even to stay the onrush of the conquering arms of Caesar. Their capital, Culario, became Gratianopolis under the Roman, and Grenoble under the Gaul. War followed war; the proud high-spirited people of Dauphiny knew no compromise and would make no truce. The defeated Lombards retraced their steps across the Alps. The Saracens who entered Dauphiny came not as conquering heroes, but to lend their knowledge and their aid in exploiting mines and in the construction of canals. The Princes of Dauphiny led their armies to the Holy Land while their cities struggled for new enfranchisement,.

One would expect that with the death of the last prince the history of the province would be merged in that of France. It was not so. Dauphiny was too high-strung to brook control. She took no small part in the great wars with England. To France she gave some of her noblest men, among them Bayard, the blameless, fearless knight. The Kings of France, with the one exception of Louis XI, were not a little afraid of Dauphiny. Charles VIII, Louis XIII and Francis I thought it well to employ the noblest captains of this turbulent province in the foreign wars of France. The Governor de Gordes dared to defy Charles IX, who had ordered him to bring about in Dauphiny a massacre like that of St. Bartholomew. Of de Gordes’ successor, Henry IV remarked: “Lesdiguiéres has made himself a Dauphin”; yet the King did not dare to profit by this insight and to remove the governor who might in some way prove arival. Thus it came about that through the sixteenth, seventeenth and eighteenth centuries the spirit of independence waxed strong.

In the heart of Dauphiny lies the lovely valley of the Isére, a vale rich in vineyards, wheat and corn, yet flanked by mountains on which the white-starred edelweiss, the Alpine tulip and the blue gentian replace the snow which there comes early and stays far into what in a less high altitude would be spring. Down this peaceful valley Hannibal marked in blood his way to Rome. Later a Roman road showed how wise had been his choice. The Valley of the Isére can boast of one of the most interesting and most picturesque cities of al] France—Grenoble, which bears even today the traces of several successive civilizing forces; for, though flame and flood have threatened to wipe out what was oldest in the city, much remains. There are relics of the Roman, the Gaul, the Mohammedan, the medieval Dauphin, the scholar of the Renaissance, the saint who “is not of an age, but for all time.”

Grenoble had no small part in the history of Dauphiny; it was in turn the Allobrogian capital, a Roman fortress, a medieval stronghold. It still prides itself on the Chevalier Bayard. Dauphiny knew only his youthful promise, and his triumphs in the joust and tourney, for France claimed him as her son. One day, however—it was on the morrow of a great Italian vic- _. tory—he suddenly appeared in Grenoble, which he had learned was suffering from a cruel plague. There he spent himself in the service of the sick and dying, he drove away bands of marauders, and only when his native city seemed to need him no longer did he return to the Italian front.

The spirit of independence which was Dauphiny’s had its well-springs in Grenoble. There the French Revolution took its rise in the rebellion of the local Parliament which, from 1760 on, refused to sanction the new financial measures of the Government. Among the leaders in this strife for liberty were the Périers and their cousins, the Duchesnes.

The character of the Duchesnes was strongly marked. One who knew them wrote, “They were souls of strong temperament whom the education of the ancien régime had made still stronger. The ‘caractére Duchesne’ is a proverbial phrase to express the energy for good existing in this family.” This energy had brought them a success that by the middle of the eighteenth century made them known the world over as prosperous manufacturers and exporters of textiles. In France they were famed not only in the world of merchandise, but at the bar and wherever else they strove. At the very time that Dauphiny, at the dictate of Grenoble, was daring to set aside the precepts of Paris, a Duchesne, Pierre Francois, held a distinguished position in the high-spirited, fiery Parliament of his native province. He was a man of intellect, of energy and of will, possessing an unusual gift of oratory. His was a Christian family of the good old type, and members of each generation for a century at least, had offered themselves to God in the Visitandine Convent at their native town, Romans, or at Grenoble. Yet Pierre Francois was for many years far less in sympathy with the spirit of his cloistered relatives than with the philosophic and over-liberal views of his political party.

To that liberal party belonged the Périers, Claude, Casimir and Camille. Claude was a successful banker, and a founder of industrial establishments in Dauphiny. He bought Vizille, the ancient chateau of the Dauphins, and put it at the disposal of the Parliament of Grenoble, to the cause of which he dedicated his five sons. His sister, Rose Euphrosyne, married Pierre Francois Duchesne, thus linking the families whose traditions, inclinations and characters were remarkably alike.

The Duchesnes and Périers lived next door to each other in the Place St. André, Grenoble. There was something monastic and severe about the very street. These were the characteristics not only of the Church of St. André, and of the Hall of Justice which once had been the palace of the counts of Dauphiny, but also of the houses with grated windows, cloistered courtyards and grand stairways. From the street the Duchesne house looked uninviting, forbidding even, but the door between it and the Périer home was often open, and merry laughter must have echoed in the grim old courtyard where the little girls and their boy cousins played together.

Rose Philippine Duchesne was born on August 29, 1769. She was baptized a week later, on our Lady’s Birthday, in the Church of St. Louis, France’s crusader king, and the patron of the far-distant mission to which she was to devote herself one day. She was a child of Dauphiny, a true Duchesne. Strength and imperiousness were visible even in her earliest years. Her good mother saw the dangers and the possibilities for good in such a nature, and the training in the school of unselfish- --ness and generosity began before it was time for lessons to be learned from books. The tendencies to wilfulness, to stiffness, to a childish severity were worked upon, her character of iron was tempered by piety and devotion to the poor. Philanthropic giving may be unselfish, but charity based on true, virile piety alone is selfless, and selfless Philippine was to be. That blessed day, however, was still far off, for the sanctifying of this character took years.

The first incident recorded of her early life is that, when she was three years old, small-pox disfigured her little face that had given promise of real beauty. Philippine often heard her sisters admired, and she noticed that her name was passed by in silence, yet no word of bitterness or even of regret escaped her. This unselfish spirit was shown not only toward those nearest and dearest to her, but also to chance acquaintances, for from her earliest years her greatest pleasure was to give. To the beggars at the door and to the sick poor whom her mother took her to visit she gave all the coins that she had received for herself.

“We give you this money for your own little pleasures,” her parents would sometimes remonstrate.

“And if my pleasure is to give it to others, what then?” she would reply.

She was old for her age; her early taste for history proved this. Perhaps she showed one of the shadows in a character that was far from perfect when she read Roman History to an elder sister who was ill, and in need of cheerful entertainment. It takes time and suffering for an autocratic nature such as Philippine’s to learn the sympathy and tact that enable one to read at sight another’s tastes.

Grenoble had much to offer the lover of history. The Church of St. André just across the street from the house of the Duchesnes was only three centuries old, but a long walk would take the children to the Monastery of the Minims, where was the tomb of Bayard, and to the Church of St. Lawrence which could boast a Merovingian crypt with eight and twenty columns of rare pink and white marble. There were probably summer expeditions to the Grande Chartreuse, perched like an eagle’s nest on the heights, some twelve miles beyond Grenoble.

History was in the making, and changes were taking place that were to influence Philippine’s life. When she was seven years old, the thirteen English colonies on the Atlantic Coast of North America rebelled against taxation without representation, threw off their allegiance to the Mother Country and declared themselves free and independent. Slowly the news of this revolt reached Dauphiny, whose heart, Grenoble, was quick to throb with kindred feelings. The inhabitants of the province must have taken a lively interest in the American Revolution which followed the Declaration of Independence and which ended in victory for the newly federated states. Beyond the vaguely outlined western border of the United States lay the French colony then known as Louisiana. Missionaries from France and Spain had gone to these far-distant lands to evangelize the Indians. Some of these zealous priests returned to their native land to plead the cause they loved and to beg alms for the cultivation of fields white for the harvest. One such missionary thrilled Grenoble with the tales he had to tell, and the heart of the little Philippine Duchesne throbbed high with longing to share one day the toils and labors, the suffering, even the martyr’s death. For there were many who had shed their blood for Christ in far America. One of these missionaries, the Jesuit, Father Eusebio Francesco Kino, wrote in the picturesque style which also characterized Philippine’s letters even from her childhood: “And although we had gone to their shores solely to seek the precious pearls of their souls, to nurture them with the heavenly dew of the Divine Word, and to give them their lustre in Christ, showing them the celestial shell, Mary, who for their good conceived with the gentle dew of Heaven, the perfect pearl of first lustre, Christ, yet they (the Indians) thought we came like others . . . in search of the many and rich pearls which were produced in the countless fisheries of their coasts.”

The illusion that there were material pearls to be found on the American coast was probably dispelled before the end of the eighteenth century, but, as Philippine listened to the words of the missionary who had visited Grenoble, she made up her mind to go and sell all that she had and to buy the field which held a treasure, the souls of the Indians of North America.

The little girl was no dreamer, however. Madame

Duchesne saw to it that her children were well occupied, and she brought them up in an almost Spartan simplicity. The Alpine cold of a winter in Grenoble did not prevent early rising, even though ice had to be broken in their pitchers. Frost-bitten and chilblained fingers were not taken as an excuse for poor writing or careless sewing. When lessons were over for the day, there were younger sisters to be amused.

Events were few, so whatever chanced to break the blessed monotony of a homelife such as this must have made a lasting impression on the mind of Philippine. She was nine when her city was threatened by the “Deluge de la St. Crespin.” The River Isére unites with the Duc a few miles below Grenoble, and when both streams have overflowed their banks the valley is under water, and the lower parts of the city are endangered, but the suburbs, being on the heights, are in safety.

On the Hill of Chalmont stood the Visitandine Convent of Ste. Marie d’en Haut. This house had been founded on April 8, 1618, by St. Francis de Sales, who at the request of the citizens of Grenoble had sent for Mother de Chantal to help him to choose a suitable place for a foundation. Together they selected a rocky site, a considerable height above the city, remote from the traffic and feverish industry of commerce and looking down upon the valley of Grésivaudan with its smiling fields and gardens. The two saints built the monastery of Ste. Marie as an aerie upon a crag above the valley. The eaglets they would there train were now to look upon the sun in contemplation, now to descend to the sick poor in the city of Grenoble. Such was St. Francis’ first plan, this the reason why he called the new order “The Visitation.” It seemed best, however, to modify this design, and grilles and turns soon proved that Ste.

Marie d’en Haut was destined for an order of contemplatives. Several years after the foundation, as St. Jane Frances de Chantal knelt in the chapel of Ste. Marie praying for him whom she called the Founder of the Visitation, she distinctly heard a voice say, “He is dead.” Thinking only of the spiritual transformation she had seen in him at their last visit, she exclaimed: “My God, he is no more, he lives no more. It is Thou Who dost exist and live in him.” Then she wondered if the words she had heard might mean that he was dead. Several days later she learned that her saint and protector had indeed gone to his heavenly reward.

It was to this Convent of Ste. Marie d’en Haut that - Philippine Duchesne was sent to school. Of a serious turn of mind and caring little for games, she must often have spent her hours of recreation looking out upon the valley where the Isére marks its way in silver, where the only sounds are those of sweet-tongued bells, of rapturous birds, and crystal waterfalls. Above and far beyond are Mont Blanc and St. Nizier, chaste Alpine peaks.

At Ste. Marie, Philippine went on with the lessons learned at her mother’s knee. There was more reading, more history, more geography. The child, with her evergrowing hopes for the missions, must have paused over the story of the Discovery of America and of the conquest of the Indians whom she longed to win for God. She must have studied with interest the maps of North America and of still more remote China, wondering on which coast her lot was to be cast. ‘There were lessons too in sewing, an art and science in which she was most skilled. Still more important was the training of character Philippine received, ‘for at the Visitation, “in a constantly serene and maternal atmosphere, the child learns at an early age self-denial, a sense of duty, and of responsibility to God for every action.” Thanks to her mother’s training, these precious virtues were not unknown to Philippine; in fact, they sum up the characteristics of her early childhood, the good Sisters had but to deepen and to strengthen these traits in the little girl confided to their care.

Once the long days of homesickness were over, Philippine found that at Ste. Marie she had a second home; she felt in her element in those cloistered halls. There, grew her devotion to the Blessed Virgin, there, she saw in chapel, court and cloister symbols of the Sacred Heart, Which, through the humble Visitandine, Saint Margaret Mary, had shown anew to a forgetful world Its Divine and human love.

It was to prepare for her First Holy Communion that Philippine had been sent to the convent. Of that blessed day no details have come down to us. We know only that she was twelve years of age, and that the ceremony must have taken place in the convent chapel, or rather church, which the munificence of the Due de Lesdiguiéres had long before enriched. We may be sure that the earnest, loving child did not see the frescoed ceiling or reredos, but that her look was fixed upon the Tabernacle of the fine old marble altar. Napoleon Bonaparte, born the same year as Philippine Duchesne, and probably making his First Communion at the same age as she, looked back from Saint Helena to that day as the happiest of his life. Other Bonapartes have thought the same, but it is often otherwise with those who give their lives to God and to His service, for still happier days are in store for them. Besides, it seems likely that Francois Duchesne did not follow his little daughter to the altar-rail, even on that great day of her life, and her heart must have throbbed with the pain that children’s hearts know well, and must have quickened with high resolve to win her father back to God, cost what it might. This much we know: before her First Communion Philippine had longed for martyrdom upon some distant shore; from this day on she planned another form of self-immolation. She had come to know that the grace to shed one’s blood is given to few, and she was now determined to give her life, her all, to God in the daily long-drawn-out radiant martyrdom of religious life—a life which she had seen nobly led at Ste. Marie.