of their wounds; provisions were becoming scarce; the country was wasted; submission became more frequent every day.  The principals all demanded leave to quit France.  “There are left none but a few brigands in the Upper Cevennes,” says Villars.  Some partial risings, alone recalled, up to 1709, the fact that the old leaven still existed; the war of the Camisards was over.  It was the sole attempt in history on the part of French Protestantism since Richelieu, a strange and dangerous effort made by an ignorant and savage people; roused to enthusiasm by persecution, believing itself called upon by the spirit of God to win, sword in hand, the freedom of its creed under the leadership of two shepherd soldiers and prophets.  Only the Scottish Cameronians have presented the same mixture of warlike ardor and pious enthusiasm, more gloomy and fierce with the men of the North, more poetical and prophetical with the Cevenols, flowing in Scotland as in Languedoc from religious oppression and from constant reading of the Holy Scriptures.  The silence of death succeeded everywhere in France to the plaints of the Reformers and to the crash of arms; Louis XIV. might well suppose that Protestantism in his dominions was dead.

It was a little before the time when the last of the Camisards, Abraham Mazel and Claris, perished near Uzes (in 1710), that the king struck the last blow at Jansenism by destroying its earliest nest and its last refuge, the house of the nuns of Port-Royal des Champs.  With truces and intervals of apparent repose, the struggle had lasted more than sixty years between the Jesuits and Jansenism.  M. de St. Cyran, who left the Bastille a few months after the death of Richelieu, had dedicated the last days of his life to writing against Protestantism, being so much the more scared by the heresy in that, perhaps, he felt himself attracted thereto by a secret affinity.  He was already dying when there appeared the book Frequente Communion, by M. Arnauld, youngest son and twentieth child of that illustrious family of Arnaulds in whom Jansenism seemed to be personified.  The author was immediately accused at Rome, and buried himself for twenty years in retirement.  M. de St. Cyran was still working, dictating Christian thoughts and points touching death. Stantem mori oportet (One should die in harness), he would say.  On the 3d of October, 1643, he succumbed suddenly, in the arms of his friends.  “I cast my eyes upon the body, which was still in the same posture in which death had left it,” writes Lancelot, “and I thought it so full of majesty and of mien so dignified that I could not tire of admiring it, and I fancied that he would still have been capable, in the state in which he was, of striking with awe the most passionate of his foes, had they seen him.”  It was the most cruel blow that could have fallen upon the pious nuns of Port-Royal. “Dominus in coelo! (Lord in heaven!)” was all that was said by Mother Angelica Arnauld, who, like M. de St. Cyran himself, centred all her thoughts and all her affections upon eternity.