This
was a Jesuit, named Father Hemet; a good and wise old man, whose memory
I shall ever hold in veneration. Though a Jesuit, he had the simplicity
of a child, and his manners, less relaxed than gentle, were precisely
what was necessary to balance the melancholy impressions made on me by
Jansenism. This good man and his companion, Father Coppier, came
frequently to visit us at Charmette, though the road was very rough and
tedious for men of their age. These visits were very comfortable to me,
which may the Almighty return to their souls, for they were so old that I
cannot suppose them yet living. I sometimes went to see them at
Chambery, became acquainted at their convent, and had free access to the
library. The remembrance of that happy time is so connected with the
idea of those Jesuits, that I love one on account of the other, and
though I have ever thought their doctrines dangerous, could never find
myself in a disposition to hate them cordially.

I should like to know whether there ever passed such childish notions in
the hearts of other men as sometimes do in mine. In the midst of my
studies, and of a life as innocent as man could lead, notwithstanding
every persuasion to the contrary, the dread of hell frequently tormented
me. I asked myself, "What state am I in? Should I die at this instant,
must I be damned?" According to my Jansenists the matter was
indubitable, but according to my conscience it appeared quite the
contrary: terrified and floating in this cruel uncertainty, I had
recourse to the most laughable expedient to resolve my doubts, for which
I would willingly shut up any man as a lunatic should I see him practise
the same folly. One day, meditating on this melancholy subject,
I exercised myself in throwing stones at the trunks of trees, with my
usual dexterity, that is to say, without hitting any of them. In the
height of this charming exercise, it entered my mind to make a kind of
prognostic, that might calm my inquietude; I said, "I will throw this
stone at the tree facing me; if I hit my mark, I will consider it as a
sign of salvation; if I miss, as a token of damnation." While I said
this, I threw the stone with a trembling hand and beating breast but so
happily that it struck the body of the tree, which truly was not a
difficult matter, for I had taken care to choose one that was very large
and very near me. From that moment I never doubted my salvation: I know
not on recollecting