Abbé Marotti says he is perfectly well acquainted with the priest who was his confessor at the Roman College, and who quotes two instances in which the “servo di Dio,” as they call the dead man, divined his thoughts. The Contestabile Colonna’s mother was carried the other day to the Madonna de’ Monti, in the hope that the saint would cure her madness. The church is now shut up—some say on account of the robberies, &c., committed there; others, because they are setting up a tombstone to the saint. The Princess Santa Croce assured us that she had never experienced greater consolation than in contemplating his dead body, and declared that it was many years since any such miracles have been performed. A Bostonian has abjured Protestantism at the Santo Uffizio, being convinced, according to his own report, by these miracles. His instructor was an ex-Jesuit, and it is probable that the true motive for his conversion was want of money, as he appears very shabbily dressed. The Duchess of Gallicano has given her infant the name of Benedetto, in honour of the new saint, whose name was Benoît Labré.
One of the best informed, and one of the most delightful persons in every respect whom I ever knew, was the Père Jacquier, a Minime of the French convent, the “Trinité du Mont.” His name was well known in England, as he and his friend, Père le Sueur, were the best commentators on Newton. His colleague had been dead a few years, and Père Jacquier was himself rather advanced in life, but his faculties were perfect, and he was as active in person as in mind. He was a native of Champagne, and became a monk when very young, there being no regulations at that time to prevent such early professions. He used to say that it was not by the desire of his parents, but that it was all arranged by an elder sister. His genius was both sound and versatile, and his acquirements very extensive. His proficiency in every branch of mathematics scarcely exceeded his taste for polite literature, the classical purity of his Greek and Latin compositions, and the correctness of his critical observations. He was also an excellent historian, and well versed in many modern languages. He was fond of society, and his manners were not only polished in the highest degree, but the beneficence of his disposition, and the sensibility of his heart, rendered them so peculiarly attractive, that he gained a new friend whenever he made a new acquaintance. His feelings were extremely acute, and the affection of those whom he loved and esteemed was the only treasure he was solicitous to keep. Never was there a more charitable man. He gave away all he had, and was, besides, ever ready to assist with his advice and influence all who applied to him.
In his youth he had been engaged in busy scenes with Cardinal Alberoni, and had lived with Voltaire, and Madame du Châtelet, and, indeed, with all the wits and philosophers then in fashion. He was also employed in the education of the Prince, afterwards Duke, of Parma. The friendship that existed between him and Père le Sueur was extraordinary. They agreed perfectly, because they had the same general views and the same goodness of principle, with diametrically opposite dispositions. Le Sueur had all the judgment, patience, and exactness necessary for the great work they had in hand, and Jacquier all the genius, fire, and penetration. In this social intercourse this opposition of qualities kept them from interfering with each other’s way of life, and the loss of such a friend as Le Sueur was never repaired to the survivor. I did not know Père Jacquier till some years after this trying event, which, I believe, threw him more than ever into general society. As I have already remarked, he was then an old man, but his imagination was as vivid, and his heart as warm, as ever.
Strangers, politicians, men of letters, men of fashion, were all alike desirous to become acquainted with Père Jacquier. There was no pedantry, no vanity, in his mode of conversing, but if he thought himself neglected he was very unhappy; not offended, but like a child whom its parents have left at home. On this account Cardinal de Bernis used to say of him: “Le Père Jacquier a l’esprit d’un homme, et le cœur d’un enfant.” We used to see him almost every day, and he was so good as to take much pains with me in my studies. It so happened that an English naval officer came to Rome with a friend for a few weeks, and my mother was anxious that they should see everything most worthy of notice. This often engaged us so that we were not always at home at the hours Père Jacquier used to call. My mother found out that he was much vexed, and ordered me to write a note to him, to say that we had two friends who were very desirous to make his acquaintance, and would perhaps have some favour to ask of him. This set all right immediately: he became very intimate with them, and paid them every possible attention. He was a thoroughly good Christian, but by no means a bigot, and his intimacy with the philosophers made some people suspect his religious principles. But, for my part, I never heard a word from him which could be thought reprehensible by the severest moralist or most scrupulous Christian; and when some secret enemy wrote to the Bishop of his diocese, to complain of his frequenting the society of Voltaire and Madame du Châtelet, that prelate answered, “he wished those personages were always in such good company.” In fact, Père Jacquier had seen enough of the philosophers to be able to estimate them at their just value. His heart was too warm to sympathise with their cold selfishness and hypocritical philanthropy, and his mind too enlightened to adopt the errors of their systematic infidelity. He would say it is impossible to investigate the earth and the skies without adoring the Creator, or to feel the weakness of our nature without being a Christian.
Pope Ganganelli would have secularised Père Jacquier, but he declined it. He admitted that, if he had to begin life again, he would not be a monk, but it was now too late to make a change without necessity. He was very well satisfied, he said, with his present situation, which did not deprive him of the pleasure of seeing his friends: any alteration, therefore, would only make people talk to no purpose. Besides his pension as professor at Rome, he had one from the Duke of Parma, but he gave everything away, and very often had no money left before the end of the quarter. I think it was in the beginning of February, and the weather rather colder than usual, that he came in one morning and complained of not being well. My mother remarked his dress, and said: “Why, you have got on your summer clothing already, and must have caught cold.” He went home, and was laid up for some days, and we afterwards learned that a poor person having asked him for money when he had none to give, he had put on his summer dress and bestowed his winter one upon the mendicant.
Another day he came to us with a very pretty little watch in his hand, which he had won in a lottery. He was delighted with his prize, and begged me to accept of it, but my mother said: “Père Jacquier, I will tell you what to do with the watch. Take it to the man of whom you hire a carriage when you want one. I know you are exact in payment” (for that he was). “Let it be valued, and you will then have the pleasure of visiting your friends, whether it rain, or shine, for a long while.” He smiled and did as she advised, for he never liked to hire a carriage unless he could pay for it at once.
His conversation was full of anecdotes, which he related in the most clear and succinct manner. He was in correspondence with sensible and learned men of all countries, for he had no prejudices, but great discernment of character, and, though he liked to know every one who had a name in the world, he soon made the proper distinctions. One day, as we were looking at different portraits in a villa, the Chevalier de P., who was with us, observed one of Père Jacquier, and wrote under it the following lines, which are truly characteristic:
Sage et profond calculateur!
Heureux disciple d’Uranie!