In the plight of these girls the mere senses are not all in all. Allowance must be made for their listlessness of mind; for the absolute need of some change in their way of life; of some dream or diversion to relieve their lifelong monotony. Strange things are happening constantly at this period. Travels, events in the Indies, the discovery of a world, the invention of printing: what romance there is everywhere! While all this goes on without, putting men’s minds into a flutter, how, think you, can those within bear up against the oppressive sameness of monastic life--the irksomeness of its lengthy services, seasoned by nothing better than a sermon preached through the nose? * * * * * The laity themselves, living amidst so many distractions, desire, nay insist, that their confessors shall absolve them for their acts of inconstancy. The priests, on their side, are drawn or forced on, step by step. There grows up a vast literature, at once various and learned, of casuistry, of the art of allowing all things; a progressive literature, in which the indulgence of to-night seems to become the severity of the morrow. This casuistry was meant for the world; that mysticism for the convent. The annihilation of the person and the death of the will form the great mystic principle. The true moral bearings of that principle are well shown by Desmarets. “The devout,” he says, “having offered up and annihilated their own selves, exist no longer but in God. _Thenceforth they can do no wrong._ The better part of them is so divine that it no longer knows what the other is doing.”[91] [91] An old doctrine which often turns up again in the Middle Ages. In the seventeenth century it prevails among the convents of France and Spain. A Norman angel, in the Louviers business, teaches a nun to despise the body and disregard the flesh, after the example of Jesus, who bared himself for a scourging before all the people. He enforces an utter surrendering of the soul and the will by the example of the Virgin, “who obeyed the angel Gabriel and conceived, without risk of evil, for impurity could not come of a spirit.” At Louviers, David, an old director of some authority, taught “that sin could be killed by sin, as the better way of becoming innocent again.”