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great souls among One finds unselfish

chastity,—not merely physical, which is common, but even of the spirit. I discovered an infinite joy in breathing for the first time the sweet perfume of the Christian virtues. "Undoubtedly, I said to myself, there are those who do not believe. But they are rare. ness, courage and kindness among those who dwell the farthest from the Church-no one can deny it. But from that way of purgation through which the Savior was now leading me, how common, how rude, on analysis, these virtues appeared! How inadequate for a soul of refinement! I called to mind the most shining examples of virtue which had been held up before me by that godless world in which I had lived. In the light of what I know of the saints and of their pattern, Jesus Christ, they appeared pitiable. Of course, to be a good father, to be a virtuous spouse, a good mother, to do, in all good faith, one's human dutyone must not belittle these. But, so it seemed to me, all these rank small in the eyes of Him who has imposed on those souls who are truly chosen demands whose weight the scales of mere human morality cannot measure."

And he recalls some of the gospel texts which have struck him most: If any man come to me and hate not his father

For whosoever will save his life shall lose it

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cept a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die ye shall be sorrowful, but your sorrow shall be turned to joy Blessed are ye when men shall hate you your loins be girded about, and your lights burning ye therefore perfect.

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"These terrible precepts rose up in my memory and I said to myself that it is Jesus, and He alone, who has given commands like these: Die to yourselves, be meek, lose yourself in my love In the face of this spiritual abundance, this sovereign power, this plenitude which breathes from the smallest words of Jesus, what are the poor commandments which man makes? And then I thought upon those who have faithfully executed these orders; I turned my thoughts towards the saints and the blessed, and it was impossible for me to deny that they are the loftiest examples of humanity which the world has seen. Then, after this gaze of love towards heaven, I could not bring myself to believe that the longing for those most fragrant virtues was to

be forever forbidden me. Is the religion false which proclaims a code like this? . .

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No, it could not be false. And on June 15, 1912, he wrote to Jacques Maritain, his confidant during these month of waiting (and confidant of so many other souls; himself a convert, but from Protestantism-but above all, an apostle; today professor of scholastic philosophy at the Catholic Institute of Paris-the grandson of Jules Favre): "Every attempt to escape Catholicism is an absurdity; for, whether we like it or not, we are Christians; and a sin of ingratitude, for there is nothing great, nothing beautiful in our hearts which does not come from Catholicism. We shall not be able to wipe out twenty centuries of history, preceded by a whole eternity. And just as science was founded by believers, so also all that is noble and sublime in our morality comes from that same grand and unique source of Christianity, from whose abandonment flow false morality and false science." But immediately he adds: "Despite all that I have not the faith, I am, if I dare say so absurd a thing, a catholic without the faith. I think of myself, and sadly enough, when I read those fine lines (of Maritain himself): 'It would appear that in these days truth is too strong for souls. . and I wonder how harshly you

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will hold me to account for this impiety of mine. In spite of it it seems to me that I detest just those whom you detest, and love those whom you love; that I scarcely differ from you except in that grace has not touched me.

"Grace! There is the mystery of mysteries. Now you will say that I must not fall into Jansenist heresy, that man is free and that he can by his works-if not force at least provoke grace (perhaps this is poorly expressed). No; I realize that having reached the cross roads where I am now there is nothing left to do except to wait. 'Become a fool,' Pascal would say to me; but that is impossible. One can no more turn fool than he can give himself brains. Shall I read, shall I listen? But at Emmaus the disciple believed not, even after Christ's own instruction. Deum quem in Scripturae Sacrae expositione non cognoverant, in panis fractione cognoscunt, says St. Gregory, in a phrase which haunts me. Unlike the blind man who seeks no cure, I beg, I cry to the God who will not come

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This God was not far away: "Is he not already in some sort a Christian, this man who desires that his soul may gush forth

within him, who thirsts for a more than mere human virtue, who longs to dwell with the angels and no longer with brutes, who wills to lift himself, unceasingly to spiritualize himself, whose heart is so vast that it overflows the bounds of this earth?

Does not heaven already claim him who shows this mysterious preference?

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"Beyond the furthest glow of the horizon I can feel the presence of all the souls of the apostles, the virgins and the martyrs, with the unnumbered army of witnesses and confessors. They take me by storm; by main force they carry me away towards high heaven, and with my whole heart I long for their purity, I long for their humility, I long for the chasity which girds them and the holiness which crowns them, I long for their grace and for their strength. I cannot hold back.

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"Oh my God! Deign to look upon this misery and this trust. Have pity on one who has been sick for thirty years

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"Blessed are ye that hunger now, for ye shall be filled.' Yes, Lord, I rejoice that I hunger, that I mourn, that I am solitary and destitute. But when I shall hunger, when I shall mourn, when I shall be lonely for love of Thee, then my rejoicing shall abound even to the verge of death. All this present hunger and this sadness are no more than a shadow of that hunger, of that mortal sadness which Thou, Lord, shall send me in accordance with Thy promise.

""Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.' Behold me then, my God! I am naked, stretched on a foul dung-hill, and already, like Lazarus before Thou didst touch him, I stink. Nevertheless, O God of mercy, behold my soul which I give Thee, that nothing, not even it, may remain to me."

He wrote these last lines during the second week of August, 1912. The 15th of October following was a day of great illumination: "On October 15th, 1912, when I was quitting the encampment of Agoatin, I experienced great anguish of heart. An entire period of my life fell away abruptly into the past. Behind me a great and gloomy crevasse opened. A dull twilight settled down upon my years of misery.

"But at the same time the light of dawn was breaking, a dawn of youth and of purity, and in front of me a celestial radiance overspread the horizon. This time I knew whither I

went. I was going towards Holy Church, catholic, apostolic and Roman, I was going towards the abode of peace and of blessing, towards joy, towards health; I was going, alas! towards my healing. And then, thinking of that true mother who for years had awaited me, there, across two continents, and who from afar stretched forth her arms which pardon all, I wept from very joy, from love and from gratitude.

"Yes, it was glorious truth which called to me from afar, from my own sweet native land. The whole Christian order displayed itself before me, as against a revivified sky; before me there arose an immense and majestic temple, founded upon solid rock, a temple of reason and of divine wisdom; and all the lines of this temple were so straight, so pure and so unified that, before it, one could have no other wish than to dwell forever within its shadow, far away from the fickleness and the illusions of the world.

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There follows a tremendous profession of faith, in the form of meditation and contemplation, embracing the Creed and its chief articles, the Trinity, the Incarnation, the Virgin Birth, original sin and its transmission, Redemption,-which brings us eventually to the Communion of the Saints, the theory of indulgences, the worth of asceticism, the Church and her history, the infallible Papacy, Christ's second advent and the problem of the salvation of infidels; at last to the Eucharist and to that supreme act of faith and of eucharistic longing which will have been read at the head of these lines.

Two months later (the end of December, 1912) he was in Paris, where he was awaited by his friends with a confidence which was not wholly free from anxiety. In Paris he felt himself expatriated. What recollection is possible in the midst of Parisian life? "In Mauritania I was infinitely closer to my goal," he writes to Maritain. His mind was preoccupied with the effect his conversion would have upon his mother. But even this trouble did nothing except to intensify the desire, "the haste to behold at last the true light;" without that it was impossible to contemplate a return to the desert. And then his reading was feverish and inordinate; each day he threw himself on a new book, wishing to make up for lost time. Fortunately he had prayer to fall back upon:

"I know, now, that nothing is so good as prayer, for invariably

I begin it with distaste and yet I never fail to conclude it in joy and peace of heart. What can be the far-reaching power which these words have, thus to work upon a heart so closed and hard?" (From a letter to Maritain.)

He prayed, and others were praying for him. Mme. Maritain (a convert like her husband, and converted at the same time, but from Judaism) notes in her diary the details of interviews between the two friends:

"18th January, 1913.-Jacques sees Ernest; he speaks the language of a Christian.

"21st.-Jacques has seen Ernest, who told him that he may wish him to arrange an interview with a priest.

"23rd.-Ernest calls; he appears troubled. On Sunday he is to go with Jacques to hear mass at the cathedral (of Versailles); the manner of saying mass is explained to him.

"Sunday, the 26th.-Ernest and Jacques together attended the high mass; both returned immensely moved. Ernest told Jacques that in church he felt himself at home. And, indeed, Jacques was astonished at his ease there and his devotion. He went on to say: 'Confession,-it will not be easy, and above all . . . that firm purpose Already he prays much, and especially to our Lady. Visibly the faith of his baptism awakens and works in him. Of his own accord he has decided to go every Sunday to the high mass. Pére Clérissac should be here within eight days.

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"Sunday, 2nd February.-Ernest and Jacques assisted at mass in the Rue d'Ulm. Ernest was absorbed and uncommunicative. Jacques came home disquieted.

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"3rd February.-Jacques arrived with Ernest about eleven. Pére Clérissac towards noon. We saw that they took to each other and are congenial. Ernest is so direct and so frank with the Father. Luncheon full of emotion. After luncheon the Father led Ernest off to the park. They were gone for two hours during which time we did not cease from prayer. Everything was about to be decided. At last they returned, and the Father put before us the program which had been arranged and which filled us with joy: Tomorrow confession, then confirmation at the first moment possible, and on Sunday first communion; then, in thanksgiving a pilgrimage to Chartres. Ernest has understood the Father completely, and the latter could discover no

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