MASTER NEGATIVE NO. 93-81294- MICROFILMED 1993 COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES/NEW YORK as part of the . r. • ^» "Foundations of Western Civilization Preservation Project Funded by the NATIONAL ENDOWMENT FOR THE HUMANITIES Reproductions may not be made without permission from Columbia University Library COPYRIGHT STATEMENT The copyright law of the United States - Title 17, United States Code - concerns the making of photocopies or other reproductions of copyrighted material. Under certain conditions specified in the law, libraries and archives are authorized to furnish a photocopy or other reproduction. One of these specified conditions is that the photocopy or other reproduction is not to be '*used for any purpose other than private study, scholarship, or research.*' If a user makes a request for, or later uses, a photocopy or reproduction for purposes in excess of "fair use," that user may be liable for copyright infringement. This institution reserves the right to refuse to accept a copy order if, in its judgement, fulfillment of the order would involve violation of the copyright law. 1 A UTHOR: LEAR, HENRIETTA LOUISA FARRER TITLE: DOMINICAN ARTIST, SKETCH OF THE LIFE... PLACE: LONDON DA TE: 1870 COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES PRESERVATION DEPARTMENT Master Negative # BIBLIOGRAPHIC MICROFORM TARGET Original Material as Filmed - Existing Bibliographic Record ID:NYCG93-B2087 CC:9668 BLT:am CP:enk PC:s MMD: 040 100 1 245 12 DCF:? INT:? RTYP:a C3C:? GPC:? REP:? '^.T o MOD: BIO:? CPI:? FRN SNR FIG FSI COL 7 7 MS: EL ATC CON ILC EML 777 • • • 7777 AD:03- UD:03~ 10-93 12-93 II:? GEN: 260 300 LOG QO L:eng PD:1870/ OR: POL: DM: RR: NNCt^cNNC I Lear, Henrietta Louisa Farrer. ^ A Doniinican artist{-h[ microform] ,t:ba sketch of the life of tfie Re e Besson of the Order of St. Dominic. {:cBy the author of "Tales of ck," The life of Madame Louise de france," & c. London, rt>Rivingtons,rGl870. j ' xi, 289 p. ;rCl8 cm. 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Columbia (ElnitJf rsfitj) , intl)fCitpof2'lritigork ' THE LIBRARIES ^f / A DOMINICAN ARTIST I RIVINGTONS gmtbon • •• •« • •• •• • • •• •• I • . • • • Waterloo Place High Street Trinity Street A DOMINICAN ARTIST ^ ^Itctc!) flf tl)e %xit of tie ^eb. ©ere %tmxi of t|)e (©rtJtr of ^t. ©ominic BY THE AUTHOR OF "TALES OF KIRKBECK," "THE LIFE OF MADAME LOUISE DE FRANCE," &c. H"^ VL^I i"^ "^ci ^ d ^,s^ Srrtr.l^'^^ ' ' * RIVINGTONS 1870 7 !?-- ^ PREFACE // J '^S'l 4 ^ ^ cry CO o nPHE substance of this sketch has been taken from M. Cartier's Vie du R. P. Besson. supplemented by the memoirs and letters of Pere Lacordaire. There are no startling events or political interests in Pere Besson's life, as in those of his great leader, but the point which forms its attraction, is the simplicity and purity of a holy life ;--the singleness of heart which sought and found God everywhere. Whether in his devoted love for his mother, or in his warm, generous friendship, or in his reverence for spiritual authorities, or in his tender care for the souls he watched over, Hyacinthe Besson saw God before all else. His deep, unselfish affection 114857' Tl PREFACE f| was refined and ennobled by its first concen- tration on his Lord. Love is the leading feature of his soul's life, and love it was that found expression in his paintings, his unstudied letters (which are, almost without exception, an out- pouring of love for God and man), his devoted labours, and, not least, in his death—the result of devotion to his fever-stricken flock. "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." It has been asserted that the monastic life chills and represses love, or at all events forces it into unnatural, constrained shapes, which with- draw it from those who have the first claim upon affection and support. Pere Besson's life may be contrasted with this opinion ;— it is a living commentary upon the solemn truth that "He that loveth God, loveth his brother also." The world attempts to separate these two loves, but in the Christian heart they form a living whole with two faces ; one turned towards heaven, the If w PREFACE rl I other towards earth and all its needs and suffer- ings. " Sweet thoughts are theirs that breathe serenest cahns, Of holy offerings timely paid, Of fire from heaven to bless their votive alms And passions on God's altar laid. The world to them is closed, and now they shine With rays of love divine, Through darkest nooks of this dull earth Pouring, in showery times, their glow of quiet mirth " New hearts before their Saviour's feet to lay, This is their first, their dearest joy : Their next, from heart to heart to clear the way For mutual love without alloy : Never so blest, as when in Jesus' roll They write some hero soul, More pleased upon his brightening road To wait, than if their own with all his radiance flowed.** ^^ .4 CONTENTS < CHAPTER I Besson's chfldhood— School days— First days o'f artist life— ficole Buchez—Requedat—Piel— First visit to Rome — Returns to Paris, and studies in Delaroche's atelier — Besson returns to full religious convictions — Abbe Desgenettes — Residence at Rome — Louis Cabat — Visit to Assisi — Development of a religious vocation — Lacordaire's profession— Confraternity of S. John the Evangelist— Besson goes to La Quercia — Final decision to join the Dominicans . , , PAGB > CHAPTER II Santa Sabina— Novitiate — Death of Requedat — Disper- sion of the French Dominicans — Besson goes to Bosco — Separation from his Mother — Letter to her — Death of Piel 46 CONTENTS CHAPTER III Profession— Letters to his Mother— P^re Besson gives up painting — Ordained Deacon and Priest — Licensed as a Confessor — Lacordaire returns to Notre Dame — P^e Besson Master of Novices • • • • FAGB 71 CHAPTER IV Pere Besson at Chalais— Visit from his Mother— Letters — ^Death of his Mother — Letters — Pere Besson goes to Paris • • lOI CHAPTER V Nancy— M. deBeaussant — Pere Besson preaching Retreats at Langres — Revolution oi 1848 — Chalais — He De- comes Prior of Nancy • • • • « tisa CHAPTER VI Pere Besson is recalled to Rome — Reform in the Domi- nican Order — Pere Jandel appointed General — Inter- view with Pio Nono— Life at Santa Sabina — San Sisto Paintings — Visit from the Pope — Friendship with Overbeck — Eastern Missions — Pere Besson volimteers as a Missionary — Sails for Constantinople ♦I CONTENTS zi FAGS — Smyrna — Aleppo — ^Journey to Mossoul — Difficul- ties there — Pere Besson practises as a Doctor — Visit to the Holy Land — Return to Rome • • • 161 CHAPTER VII Divisions in the Order— P^re Besson sent to France as a Peacemaker — Return to Mossoul — Dangers in the East — Massacres of Libanus — Fever at Mossoul — Pere Besson goes to Mar-Yacoub — Last Illness — And Death •••••«.. 206 CHAPTER VIII Pere Besson's Direction— Spiritual Letters « » • 137 M \M CHAPTER I Besson^s childhood — School days — First days of artist life — Ecole Buchez — Requedat — Piel— First visit to Rome — Returns to Paris, and studies in Delaroclle's atelier — Besson returns to full religious convictions — Abbe Desgenettes — Residence at Rome — Louis Cabat — Visit to Assisi — Development of a reli- gious vocation— Lacordaire's profession— Confraternity of S. John the Evangelist — Besson goes to La Querela — Final deci- sion to join the Dominicans. " A RT," it has been said\ "is a revelation from jL\. heaven, and a mighty power for God ; it is a merciful disclosure to men of His more hidden beauty, it brings out things in God which lie too deep for words. ... In virtue of its heavenly origin it has a special grace to purify men's souls, and to unit^ them to God by first making them unearthly. It art debased is the earthliest of things, true art is an influence in the soul so heavenly that it almost seems akin to grace." Surely this is true in the » F. W. Faber. A DOMINICAN ARTIST deepest sense. In a reverent spirit we may look back to the beginning of art as filling the earth when " God saw every thing that He had made, and behold it was very good ;" and from that time the wondrous gift of a creative power has been bestowed upon men; a power so exquisite, so precious, so mighty for good to him who possesses it, and to all who come under its spell, that it may indeed be called " akin to grace." That among men too often " noblest things find vilest using," is a sorrowful truth, and heavy is his guilt who turns the heaven-sent gifts of genius to aught save God's glory, and the g^od of men. But art, true creative power, as it is part of that noble heritage bestowed on man when the Ever-Blessed Trinitv vouchsafed to make him " in Our Image, after Our Likeness," — so it is one of the noblest offerings of praise and adoration which the creature can offer to his Creator, — a lavish outpouring of all the gold, - myrrh, and frankincense of his mind's treasures ; every line, every tint, every beautiful outward expres- sion of the inward conception of loveliness, offered up as a mighty hymn of thanksgiving, a great " Sursum corda;" — in heathen art, it may be to a great "unknown God;"— in Christian art to Him Who is the fount and source of all beauty, and to Whose worship all in beauty turns again, as waters flow onwards to the sea. r f A DOMINICAN ARTIST ^^ "Akin to grace," art seems most certainly to have been in the case of the young artist whose short career and early death (he was called to his happy rest when only forty-five) are lovingly narrated by-' the artist-friend who was as a brother to him, and a son to his mother— M. E. Cartier,— whose writings have done so much to set Christian art in its highest form before the nineteenth century. This "beautiful growth of grace, the most exquisite reflection of Era Angelico, a soul infinitely pure, true, and simple, possessing the faith of a great saint," as he was described by Lacordaire, was a young Frenchman' named Charles Jean Baptiste Besson, and was born April loth, i8i(5, in his grandfather's house near Besangon. He was the only child of a widow, nor did he see the light of day till after his father— a soldier— had died from the results of a wound. Young Besson's childhood was almost idyllic in its simplicity. His mother's parents, in whose chateau it was spent, were staunch Royalists. " My soul is God's, my life-blood my King's," was their traditionary code ; and the household was governed almost like a religious community, partly perhaps owing to the pre- sence of a favourite aunt, who, having been driven forth from the cloister during the Revolution, had returned to her father's roof, and there continued to live according to her rule, teaching the little children and B 2 ■•"i^ ■*9HRni A DOMINICAN ARTIST servants of the family, loved and loving, in all ways the "Angel of the house." But a cloud soon came over this sunny picture. Through the dishonesty of a relation, Madame Bes- son's father was ruined, his estates sold, and the happy family party dispersed. The young widow must have been a woman of no common character, as well as of exquisite beauty. Instead of giving way to the pres- sure of misfortune, she resolved at once to support her child and educate him fittingly ; and accordingly, with- out hesitation, she sought and found a situation in the neighbouring town of Besan9on, where her days were spent in wearisome toil, the one sufficient reward for which was her return each evening to her little son, and the delight of teaching and fondling him. This arrangement soon came to an end. Madame Besson's youth and beauty exposed her to annoyances from which she saw no escape save flight. Making her father her sole confidant, the brave woman left her child in his care, and started alone and on foot for Paris, with a view to beginning life anew there. It was a rash step, and many a time Madame Besson's courage nearly failed, in spite of her fervent trust in God and His ceaseless protection. One evening (she told her son afterwards), as she passed over a lonely bridge, the temptation to plunge into the deep eddying waters below, and so fly •i A DOMINICAN ARTIST for ever from her earthly troubles and perplexities, came all but irresistibly upon her. But He Who heard Hagar's voice in the wilderness was not heed, less of the desolate young widow as she leant over the rushing waters of the torrent; His angel whispered courage, and set before her a young child's face, recalling one who would be left an orphan were she to refuse to bear the burden God laid on her ; — and making the sign of the Cross, she fled from the dan- gerous spot. Once in Paris, matters took a happier turn. Some friends placed Madame Besson in a position of con- siderable responsibility with an old American lady, whose affection she so entirely won, that on discover- ing how bitterly the young mother felt being separated from her son, he was speedily fetched to Paris, and soon became almost as dear to his patroness as to his mother. The old lady placed Jean Baptiste at school, and herself instructed him in preparation for his first Communion. Madame Besson's means were, how- ever still but scai],ty ; and her nights were often spent, after the day's toil, in washing and mending her child's clothes. Years after he alludes to this in one of his letters to his mother : — " Dearest mother, our dear Lord seems always to have stamped you with the sign of His cross,, the special mark of His chosen ones; He has indeed A DOMINICAN- ARTIST brought you through fire and blood. Never fear ! all the sorrows of this life pass away, however grievous they may seem, and meanwhile they lead us to the portion of the saints in Heaven. How lovingly I look back upon the trials we bore together in the Rue Trois-Freres — trials which I was then too young to appreciate. But I can recall the long, bitter winter nights, when you used to sit over your scrap of fire by my bedside, bearing it all so cheerfully. When I remember how, cold and weary as you were, you used to take off your warmest clothes to cover me, I could cry for tender love, and with the longing to make you some return. So lonely as you were, and yet so unshaken in your trust in God's Providence, which strengthened you to bear up under all trouble and discouragement." Better days were coming : the old American lady died, leaving some small provision for the widow and child; and her relations, who had learnt to value Madame Besson, offered her an advantageous posi- tion in the family. But she had pther views, and, looking chiefly to her son's truest good, went to live with the Abbe Leclerc, the venerable Cure of Notre Dame de Lorette, who had taken a warm interest in the boy. The good Abb^ had been an exile in Ger- many and England during the storm of Revolution ; and now he filled an honoured position among the most /i A DOMINICAN ARTIST 1 highly esteemed clergy in Paris. Madame Besson delighted to be the helper in his countless charities ; while the Abbe' watched over her son with a fatherly care, the effects of which probably went far to shape his future life. The Abbe' Leclerc wished young Besson to be placed in a seminary, with a view to the Priesthood; but his mother could not bring herself to contemplate what at that time seemed a great sacrifice to her, little knowing that a greater one was in store for her loving heart. Accordingly the boy was sent to a private secular school, where he does not seem to have learnt much except mischief. During the revolution of 1830 the boys thought it amusing to set up a private revolution of their own ; and there was no hand over them strong enough to hold the reins. The worst crime, however, of which young Besson was guilty appears to have been ripping up all the bolsters in the dormitory, in order to make, an artificial snowstorm out of the garret windows, greatly to the surprise of the neighbours ! His love for drawing already got him into many scrapes: exercise-books were filled with various wild com- positions ; and when punished, Jean Baptiste was wont to satiate his revenge with caricatures of his masters. Fortunately this state of things came to an end when, in 1832, M. Roux Lavergne, a really able man, v* « A DOMINICAN ARTIST took the head of the school. Quick to perceive and appreciate character, he soon singled out the slight, handsome boy, whose temperament combined so much gentleness and affection with such a deter- mined will,— who was so ready to rush headlong after whatever notion approved itself to him, that a less long-sighted professor in the school foretold that young Besson would soon come to grief. Had he plunged into pohtics, the prediction would very likely have been fuliilled ; as it was, by God's grace, the lad gave himself up to His service, and laid down his life therein. M. Roux Lavergne was a philosopher, a man of taste and poetic imagination ; in religion and politics his school was not that in which young Besson had been brought up hitherto, and the novelty of philo- sophic speculation now opened to him proved a great fascination. The tutor discouraged his seeking to repair past neglect of Latin and Greek, and fostered Besson's passion for art, which seemed the more con- genial expression of his thoughts. Life began to be a reality to him ; he felt the yearning every healthy mind must experience for work, for an occupation which should be at once the delight and toil of a man's life. This craving seemed to Besson to find its fulfilment in the painter's career, and he already began to look to it, not merely as an attractive, / A DOMINICAN ARTIST agreeable profession, but rather as a serious vocation into which he thought to throw himself, almost as a sacred calling like che priesthood. Circumstances made it easier to carry out his wish than had so far seemed probable. In 1833 the Abbe Leclerc died, leaving Besson a legacy, which placed him and his mother in an independent position. Eleven years later, in a letter to his mother, Besson alludes to the Abbe as follows — he was then a newly-ordained Priest, and his first Mass was offered with intention for his benefactor : "I cannot tell you how cease- lessly I thank God for the grace He vouchsafed to me through that dear old man. God knows how he used to hope that the day would come when I should pray for him ! Oh, my Saviour, grant that his desires may be fulfilled ! Restore him fourfold all the love and the blessings he bestowed upon me ; and that not for my poor sake, but in Thy Holy Name, dear Lord, and because of the boundless charity with which Thou didst inspire him !" Jean Baptiste was now seventeen, and,- throwing aside his school-life, he and his mother established themselves in the Rue de la Monnaie, she to live her wonted quiet life of devotion to her son and the poor, he to pursue the study of art under Souchon, a painter of David's school. But a more weighty influence was brought to bear upon the young J K.. I lo A DOMINICAN ARTIST A DOMINICAN ARTIST ir I artist's mind, in the society to which he was intro- duced by his late tutor, M. Roux Lavergne. He too had left his scholastic position, and had joined M. Buchez in an arduous literary work, the " Histoire Parlementaire de la Revolution Frangaise." Buchez at this time was wielding no slight power over the public mind, especially among young and ardent men, who were fascinaU d by the depth and earnest- ness of his views, by the straightforward unselfishness of his character, and the elevating tone of his theories. His house in the Rue Chabannais became the ren- dezvous and propaganda of a numerous body of friends and disciples, among whom he encouraged a free discussion of all the questions of the day; and although M. Buchez's theories undoubtedly must be called Socialist, and are wanting in the higher tone which can only be found within the pale of Christ's Church, and her unfailing, rock-built dogma, at the same time France and Europe generally have cause for gratitude to a school which boldly resisted the atheistic spirit of the Revolution, and its attendant materialism. In later years Besson alluded with sincere gratitude to the impressions he had received during his intercourse with M. Buchez, as having influenced all his future life for good. " I have an abiding attachment to M. Buchez," he wrote, Feb. 20th, 1842, "and never can forget that he was one ^ ■^ of the instruments our Lord employed to call me to Himself." As this school had an important part to play in forming Lacordaire's earliest disciples, and thereby in leavening and shaping the Christianity of not France only, but that of the world generally, it may not be useless to examine into M. Cartier's clear and in- teresting account of its teaching. " Of all the Socialist schools in our times, that of Buchez is the most Christian," he writes. " Instead of founding its theories on the intoxicating doctrine of the rights of man, this school takes its stand upon duty ; and duty as revealed by the Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, it holds to be the true fraternity. Such duty is the source, the only test, and the only end of man's rights, and its fulfilment is his final law. God alone can lay it on us, and in order to this, there must needs be a revelation of His will — a revelation which He gave through the teaching and life of our Lord, Who taught the duty of fraternity, when He died for His brethren, and when He made the precept of mutual love to be the very foundation of all society. Man has no claim to power save in serving his fellow- men. Let him that would be first, be the servant of all." Superior as this theory was to those which had pre- ceded it, there was still much wanting ; its base rests M -._> > s. ••-*• tl A DOMINICAN- ARTIST A DOMINICAN ARTIST n rather upon the quicksands of rationalism than the immovable rock of truth. It puts morals before dogma, whereas faith must precede works— men do right because they believe that which is right. True fraternity can only be the result of knowledge and love of the Father, without which, as a primary, practical, element, the love of mankind is unattainable. But this socialist school did not inculcate such love of God, and it ignored the Church, which is the embodi- ment thereof. It sought after a social Christ, and faiUng to perceive that the Church is the only sure bond of all, it took reason, and a free inquiry into the Gospel— as though that were on the same level w^ith the writings of Plato—for the groundwork of its or- ganization. Instead of the Church, France was to bd the ruling passion of men, and this passion, exceeding as it did the bounds of a legitimate and noble affec- tion pro pairia, became mere fanaticism. France, they taught, was the mother of nations, it was for her that our Lord proclaimed the dogma of fraternity, it was her mission to teach it throughout the world. But this was not the vocation which Lacordaire attri- buted to her in Notre Dame later on; he dwelt eloquently on the position of France as the Church's eldest daughter, commissioned to protect her heathen; the socialist school viewed her as a power armed with truth, which she must enforce on every side— their watchword was Fraternity or War. They strength- ened themselves in this position by our Lord's parable of the wedding feast, and His words, " Compel them to come in :" — Truth is bound to extend itself, and con- sequently it has a right to strive. To this theory a new historical system was com- bined, according to which France has ever striven to fulfil this fraternal duty, to w^hich alone all her struggles, all her revolutions have tended ; her early Christian teachers, Clovis and his foUow^ers, the Crusades, Louis XL, the League and Richelieu, in destroying feudal rights, all were working to the same end. The Revo- lution aimed at establishing fraternity, but for lack of appreciating history and the Gospel, it failed ; building rather on rights than on duty. This school proposed to finish the work which the Revolution had begun, and to lay the corner-stone of that social organization which the Gospel inculcates. This corner-stone is association. The time for compelling men to come in had not arrived— as yet all association must be volun- tary, and it was among the working classes that the first nucleus of those who were to convert the world must be sought. A few men were to unite under the banner of fraternity, share their tools, their labour, their possessions, and create a capital which was to belong to the association. Self-governed, they w^ere to choose their own ruler, and profits were to be ^x 14 A DOMINICAN ARTIST A DOMINICAN ARTIST 15 shared according to the labour each man accom- plished. It was expected that the fascinating example would attract many, and spread itself rapidly. The working classes were to become an organized brother- hood—justice and simplicity were to prevail, the struggle between labour and capital was to cease, the despotism of speculation was to die out, and all the miseries of poverty, sickness, or lack of work were to be for ever counteracted. Agriculture they believed would speedily follow in the same track, and in no long time the whole State would be organized upon this system. Then only the French nation would tulfil its true mis- sion, and establish true fraternity throughout the world. It was an attractive theory, and one which was followed out with energy by Buchez and his dis- ciples. Associations were founded, and the propa- ganda of the Rue Chabannais spread among all classes. But in spite of the really generous ardour of its professors, the system did not thrive. Love of man apart from the love of God is a mere chimera; no one can contend against the natural selfishness of human nature without special grace from the Saviour, which alone can enable us to conquer the hindrances original sin and man's ingratitude are for ever showering upon all self-devotion. Difficulties of all sorts arose ; the working men in their respective associations looked first after their own profits, and before long a very Babel arose of varying opinions and theories. *' Every one diverged according to his own view of the subject, and the members of the school, scattered on all sides, sought the realization of their dreams of fraternity, some in revolution and on the barricades, others in the Church and her Sacraments. Of course there was every conceivable intermediate shade between these extremes ; nor would it be just to deny that even those who stopped short of the truth forwarded the cause of Christianity, by pointing out. the road they themselves failed to follow, and drawing together those who seemed most entirely divergent : Catholicity found real friends from out the ranks of a hitherto unjust and inconsistent liberalism ; and the: great difference, as to religious toleration, which we see between the Revolution of July and that of '48, is mainly owing to the influence of Buchez'; school on the " National" party, which led the latter insurrection. Buchez himself was appointed President of the National Assembly, an honour which he mainly owed to his Christian learning, as well as to the honesty of his character." Such Avas the phase of life into which young Besson, entered, as he emerged from the schoolroom ; and who can wonder that his ardent, generous nature fell under the spell of so high-sounding and generous a theory, or that he should have been ready to devote i6 A DOMINICAN ARTIST his whole energies to its advancement? His love of art kept him apart from the less intellectual class of the school ; and while not acting up to his knowledge, early impressions, and the training he had received in Church principles, kept him from straying into the wilder errors from which all his companions in the Rue Chabannais were not exempt. His most inti- mate friends were Eugbne Bion, Duseigncur, Steneile, and Boileau, all artists, whose aim was to restore Art from her debased position, and make her fulfil her fitting task as the regenerator of society ; while he was bound with a still closer bond of friendship to Hippo- lyte Requedat, a youth some three years younger than himself, whose mind, of a singularly intellectual cast, was drawn through the often perilous process of philosophy and speculative inquiry into the true light of faith. Speaking of him later on, Lacordaire says, " Many souls of a similar cast joined me in after-times, but none of more exquisite beauty, none purer or more self-devoted, none stamped with a higher mark." By degrees the truth and beauty of the Church system had penetrated his mind ; and, having entered S. Etienne de Mont one day, he took his place near a confes- sional, and, when his turn came, approached it for the only time since his first Communion— thenceforth a fer\^ent Catholic. Another of the little band of friends was Piel, a young man of remarkable literary talent, / J A DOMINICAN ARTIST 17 who, like Besson and Requedat, was one day destined to fulfil his vocation as a Dominican. Piel was a native of Lisieux, and some eight years older than Besson. After trying various pursuits, he had sud- denly declared, " I will be an architect, or nothing !" It was his true worldly vocation, and in spite of the little favour with which Gothic architecture was re- garded at that time in France, he went in heartily for it. He undertook to build a Gothic Church at Nantes ; and, meanwhile, the study of Holy Scripture, Origen, and Dante was gradually moulding the mind which was to embrace Lacordaire's teaching and his self-devotion. Piel wrote diligently for the EuropeeUy in which he fought a steadfast, untiring battle on behalf of the higher tone of art ; and Besson asked no better than to assist in all that was concerned with art, and tended to establish a higher view of its aims and obligations than that commonly prevalent in the world. Art, so they affirmed, is no mere outpour^ ing of emotion, no mere means to attain wealth cC repute, by pandering to the passions of the multi- tude. Real art should be the utterance and expres- sion of truth, teaching and preaching morality and fraternity \ it was bound to cast aside the self-seeking heathen traditions of the Renaissance, and maintain Christian tradition only, reviving the Faith which flourished in the catacombs, and restoring all the yf 18 A DOMINICAN ARTIST A DOMINICAN ARTIST '9 expansive symbolism of mediaeval times. " Beauty," they said, *' must be a manifestation of the good and true, having God Himself for its ideal : this can only be realized by means of a revelation, and religious truth must be its foundation; Catholicism is the fullest and most perfect revelation of this truth." Piel maintained, while pleading the unity of art, tliat of its three branches architecture was the queen ; that it is the first expression of art, and in its very nature less subject to the influence and corruption of passions than painting or sculpture. "Sculpture," he said, "is never more potent than when subject to architecture, and adapted to her lines and proportions; while painting intensifies the beauty of both by the harmony of her colours and lights. God's House is the highest work of art, inasmuch as it expresses a religious truth, and gives outward shape to the greatest of all truths. The beauty of God's truth should be duly set forth in that of His Temple ; and when this is attained, a Christian church is the noblest work of art which man can achieve. A cathedral is the outward expression of a Divine doctrine, a new world created for the Christian : externally it is a bold affirmation of truth, a noble, reaching forth towards heaven ; while internally it sets forth whatever is best fitted to develope the soul's life, and drav/ it into closest union with Ood," » Besson had chosen painting as his expression of truth and art; but he delighted in the study both of architecture and sculpture, and became a practised modeller. A painter should be familiar with art in all her branches, he was wont to say. One way by which he sought to make his favourite pursuit available for the propagation of principles, was by a series of popular engravings, breathing only the spirit of Christian poetry and noble deeds, which might take the place of the battle-pieces and other sensational pictures which had become the common decoration of working men's walls. Accordingly, Besson made a number of drawings, which were engraved at Metz and published in Paris. Of these but a few remain, and they present a somewhat strange combination of the special doctrines of the young artist's school, with the higher teaching of the Faitli. But the intention was admirable, and con- sistent with Besson's aspirations after what was true and noble. Nor was his life out of keeping with such aspirations : he found enough to satisfy his wishes in art and philosophy, and was never for a moment led astray by the temptations and seductions which Paris offers to a young man, free and inde- pendent like Besson. His mother's society at home was all he cared for; indeed, his devotion to her was more than that of an ordinarily loving son ; and C 2 I r '1 ^tO A DOMINICAN ARTIST it was remarked in after-years by one of his friends, that, unconsciously, Besson continually reproduced his mother's countenance (she was singularly beauti- ful) in the faces he painted best, — adding the touching comment that it was but natural, since she was the only woman he had ever loved. It was characteristic both of this devotion to his mother, and of the steady, pure life the young artist habitually led, that when, in 1835, he determined on indulging his art-longings by a visit to Rome (where his master Souchon invited his assistance in making a copy of Michael Angelo's Last Judgment), it was at once decided that Madame Besson should accompany him. Her presence never was any restraint upon him, nor did he ever seek to separate himself from the bondage of a mother's love, until the day when a higher love called him irresis- tibly from her side, to give himself wholly to his Lord. In those days railways had not penetrated France and Italy, as now ; and Besson and his mother spent a month in the pleasant vetturino journey which took them by the Riviera to Genoa, Florence, Sienna, Perugia and Assisi. His visit to this latter place made a powerful impression on the young artist's mind ; St. Francis of Assisi opened a new manner of fraternity to his soul, and as he studied the life of that holy man, whose large-hearted spirit of brotherhood embraced not only humanity, but all creation (he was wont to call the \f A DOMINICAN ARTIST n i lambs and birds, the flowers and streamlets, "sorel- line," and to speak gratefully of the warmth and brightness imparted by " messer frate il sole") ; the social theories of Buchez and his school faded before a greater, nobler fraternity, leaving only the frame- work of true Christian brotherhood. Besson's pure, high-toned temperament was peculiarly open to the impressions of early art, and during this journey he acquired that devotion to the earlier masters which permanently influenced his artistic taste, and which prepared him to take a line of his own in studying the treasures of Rome. Souchon soon gave up his in- tended labour in the Sistine Chapel \ and after some brief sojourn in Italy, Besson returned to Paris. Here, for a time, he studied under Paul Delaroche, in whose atelier he was a favorite both with the master and his fellow-students. His professional ardour was great : he worked diligently at the Louvre, with a view to attaining the richness and depth of colours he had learnt to prize in Italy, and studied anatomy under the guidance of his friend. Dr. Tessier, who, once like Besson a frequenter of the Rue Chabannais, became not only pre-eminent in his own profession, but remarkable for his Christian and holy life, in the course of which he did good service to the cause of Christ and His Church ^ Besson also frequented the 2 "Your friendsliip was a great blessing to me wlien I was in V- 22 A DOMINICAN' ARTIST . society of his early friends, Piel and Roux Lavergne, with whom he spent many hours studying the archi- tecture of Notre Dame, where they found " seraions in stones," and day after day were more deeply im- pressed with His power and love to Whose Glory that noble structure had been raised in the days of a more glo'.ving faith. Piel had taken up his abode close to Notre Dame in order to feast his eyes and heart with its architectural beauties; he knew it by heart, and loved it with the ardent passion of a youthful imagination. Perhaps these growing convic- tions in the young artist's mind were rather strength- ened than otherwise by the repeated attacks they had to encounter from his fellow-students, who were chiefly rationalists, and whose onslaughts required Besson to be ready to give an answer for the faith which was in him. He had acquired the habit of logical argument during the time he frequented the * Rue Chabannais, and had no great difficulty in discomfiting his assail- ants. If, as sometimes happened", the conversation became blasphemous or licentious, Besson set him- self steadily to stop its course— taking his stand as yet, it is true, on the lower ground that whatsoever is of the world, and the thought of you is a ble'fesing to me now. You are in a good position, and you well deserve it ; but what I am most thankful for, is the Christian use you m^k*^ of \X^^ ^Letter from Pcre Besson to M, Tessier* V^- A DOMINICAN ARTIST f^ evil repute must of i\ecessity be in antagonism to all real artistic feeling, of which purity and beauty is the life. The men around would laugh at his enthusiasm, , thereby confirming his resolution; — the young orator waxed warm, and eloquent, until the end generally was that Besson carried the day, and drew the greater part of his fellow-students to his side. In truth he was so genial, so generous, and so free from that selfish angularity which heeds no bruises save its own, that he was a general favorite even with those whose opinions least coincided with his. Indeed, Madame Besson's only complaint against her son at this stage of his life, was his almost exaggerated libe- rality ; his purse had a chronic disease of emptiness, and she, the prudent Chancellor of the Exchequer, was slow to fill it, knowing what the inevitable result would be. But one way or another, he gensmlly got the better of her prudence, and persuaded her, who was nothing loth to be convinced, of the good- ness of his cause. His mother used to tell of one such instance, when Jean Baptiste, having seen a poor artist in the Louvre, who looked the personification of despair, inquired into his woes, and found that for want of respectable clothing, the man was unable to give certain private lessons, which would set him straight with the world. Eager to relieve this diffi- culty, young Besson persuaded his mother to give him A DOMINICAN' ARTIST A DOMINICAN ARTIST 2S one of his own coats, somewhat worn, but still respec- table, for the poor artist ; and accordingly, the next day he carried it off under his arm, wearing a new coat himself. But as he walked along, he was seized, with a pang at thus keeping the best for himself, and the order of proceeding was reversed. The mother's quick eye immediately detected the proceeding, when her son returned ; but her maternal remonstrance was cut short with a hearty kiss, and the words, "O mother, if you had only seen the poor fellow ! He almost cried for joy !" Such a man could not linger long on the border- land j Christ Himself spoke the " compelle intrare." Besson and Roux Lavergne had been drawn by an irresistible attraction to a certain bas-relief in the choir of Notre Dame, representing the institution of the Holy Eucharist— in which the Head of the Saviour combined a manifold beauty and holiness which preached to them more than many sermons. Besson secretly made a copy of this head ; and when finished, he placed it in his friend's room. Roux Lavergne, coming suddenly, was so struck with it, that he fell on his knees in prayer, and from that moment was a changed man. Fresh from his gracious labour, the young artist, too, received a new impulse towards that fulness of truth after which he had been feeling his way. Reading the Gospel of St. John, he came to Mary Magdalene's plaintive appeal to our Lord in the garden after His Resurrection, and his artist's ima- gination vividly depicted the exquisite scene, and the Lord's making Himself known to His faithful follower in the single word " Mary," — which re-echoed in his heart with a silvery tone of personal vocation, until he too cast himself at his Saviour s Feet, crying "Rabboni, Master !" Soon after. May, 1837, the two friends made up their minds to seek the Cure of Notre Dame des Vic- toires, the Abb^ Desgenettes. Years after, the Abbd loved to describe this interview in the presence of the former socialists, one of whom (together with several friends whom they induced to follow their example) then had long worn the Dominican robe. " M. I'Abbe," the spokesman said, " we accept all the truths of Christianity, and we wish to follow the practices it enjoins; but, first of all, we feel bound to tell you that w^e are Republicans, and that we must be faithful to our principles." *' Well, my friends," the Abbe answered, " that will not hinder you from being good Christians ; I confess Republicans and Legitimists alike." " Do you really mean to say that you w^ould not refuse to give us the Sacraments, though we are Re- publicans?" *' Religion has nothing to do with party; she .11 ( 26 A DOMINICA.V ARTIST respects every man's politics ; and it is quite possible that you may believe republicanism to be the best form of government Only remember, if some day you should consult me in the hour of strife, when you are going to rush to the barricades, I should most likely advise you to let it alone. But, meanwhile, there is nothing to hinder you from confession and absolution." A little more intercourse completely cleared away the prejudices of the young artists, while the Abbe Desgenettes became sincerely attached to them, and lost no opportunity of fostering their religious develop- ment Under his direction, Besson studied a little book, called "Pensez-y bien,"with such wrapt interest as 10 leave his painting for days together, until his mother grew really uneasy, and though as yet no thought of embracing the religious life had come upon him, his day-dreams were all of self-sacrifice and self- devotion. He now began to marvel how he could have visited Rome without a more Christian emotion for her martyr-fed soil ; and his desire to return thither met with no opposition from his loving mother, whose sole ambition was to see her son happy. Accordingly, in the autumn of 1838, the Bessons went to Rome, intending to make it henceforth their home ; and to live content with each other's society, and the service of God. At this time young Besson's enthusiasm for I 1 A DOMINICAN" ARTIST 27 his art knew no bounds; but it was essentially an unworldly enthusiasm, free from the natural longings after competition and fame. He was wont to say that he could not believe in the bliss of Paradise itself without the power of painting, and that he would willingly live in a desert and paint pictures on which no mortal eye was ever to gaze. Painting was for him at that period the form in which prayer and worship expressed itself, as the bird's song or the flower's perfume rises up in unconscious (as we suppose, perhaps mistakenly) worship of the Father and Creator of all things. M. Cartier, a young French artist, who was to become a very brother to Besson, made his acquaint- ance about this time, and gives a graphic description of his first visit, early in 1839, to the artist's studio at the corner of the Via Felice and Via della Purifica- zione, near to the well-known Capucin Convent in the Piazza Barberini. Besson's studio on the first floor was a heap of drawings, sketches, studies, and casts; and on his chimney-piece, facing him at his work, was a mediaeval statuette of the Blessed Virgin, before which a lamp burnt night and day. Louis Cabat, the landscape painter, lived with the Bessons, and the two artists worked together, and strove each to forward the other's progress in their cherished pur- suit, as well as in the higher one of leading a holy, t 2g A DOMINICAN ARTIST A DOMINICAN ARTIST 29 Christian life. "Cabat and Besson are living to- gether," Hypolite Requedat wrote to their mutual friend Piel, — *'t\vo angels under the same roof!" Day by day Besson heard mass in the Capucin church hard by; and after an unluxurious breakfast, which was training him for Dominican austerities, he would set off for the more ancient sites in Rome, or the Campagna, whence he would only return at nightfall, bringing back numerous sketches, and too often, also, a touch of fever, which made his mother tremble. Who that is not wholly without poetry, or the love of art, could fail to be captivated by the scenery and picturesque groups which meet one on all sides in Rome? or who wonder that at every turn in the streets, every pilgrimage amid her shrines and ruins, Besson paused to catch the forms and colours that met his view ? Sometimes in his wanderings he would fall in with some religious procession; and then, half-artist, half-devotee, he would fall into its rankt>, drawing materials and all. His friend M. Cartier recalls having seen him thus eagerly following the Via Crucis in the Coliseum — a scene which none who have beheld can forget, whether as Christian or artist During the summer of 1839, Besson, with Louis Cabat and a few other friends, made a sketching tour, which embraced Albano, Aricia, Civita Castellana, Foligno ; Besson himself going on to Assisi, from whence he wrote to Cabat as follows : — "Casa Carpinellt, Assist, ^^July ictkf 1839. " I have been here for the last fortnight, and no words can express how I delight in it. The dear little town is placed like an amphitheatre on the slope of a hill, with such a fertile country, and such a gracious horizon at its feet ! It is so perfectly quiet and peaceful ! the people are very poor and devout, — too few strangers come here to spoil their primitive simplicity ; it suits me beyond measure. All this time I have only been to one church, S. Francis. Between my veneration for that great saint, the beauty of the church itself, and the paintings with which it is covered, the hours I spend there are so delicious that I have as yet not had the least inclination to go else- where. I have tried to make a few rough sketches ; but there is such wonderful dignity and purity in the«=e paintings, that I feel them much more subjects for admiration than imitation. If you come to Assisi, you will see how grand this early Christian art was, the exquisite taste with which every component part was put together, and how religion was so at one with true dignity and beauty, as to raise the external form to the level of the great subjects treated by art. I \F 30 A DOMINICAN ARTIST A DOMINICAN ARTIST 31 I) will not begin upon details, there would be too much to say ; such pathos, such lofty aspiration, such lovely and pure conception are to be found on these walls, rendered with such truthfulness, that altogether the delight and suggestiveness that fill one in gazing on them know no bounds. I have never seen any thing which impressed me so much, and I emphatically pre^ fer this school of art to all others. But how sadly conscious one is of the difference between our age and that ! How weak our faith, how grudging our devo- tion, in comparison ! One fails to find words which express the love with which all was done. Every least detail sets forth the large-heartedness of these artists, how full they were of God's Presence, and how far more they sought Him than any mere human praise ! Surely our Lord blessed their labours, and if He fostered their humility by withholding that scien- tific perfection which the world prizes so greatly, He gave them an abundant compensation on the spiritual side, through His grace. How many holy souls have been helped by gazing on these works ! Surely now those who produced them have a far higher reward than any thing which this world's fame can give ! One always comes back to the same point — all true glory is in our Lord Jesus ; all that is done for love of Him is good ; all that is done without that is idle and fruitless. Doubtless, talent is a great gift if well used ; but the important thing is to be God's faithful servant. Our motto should be " All for God," to our very help- lessness. We must store up our treasure with Him, so that as He Himself teaches us, we may give Him our hearts. Indeed, dear Cabat, I thank God for having brought me to Assisi, because sometimes I feel that I love Him better for it. Pray for me, as I pray for you, and for our friend Cartier, and M. Pages ; we have great need to strengthen one another thus, for one passing moment of devotion, how many cold and lifeless days one has !" During this happy visit to Assisi, Besson made many studies from Cimabue, and Giotto, who were his favourite masters, as well as others from Puccio Campana, Simone Memmi, Pace di Faenza, and Fra Angelico ; and also not a few landscapes from nature. Day by day, as he worked, his heart seemed to grow more and more full of love to God and man, and few as his expenses were (for he had found a lodging •where his whole daily expenses were only if. 50c.) he had given away with so free a hand, that when the six weeks of his absence came to an end, he returned to Rome without money or clothes, and the vetturino who took him back to Via Felice would not give up his portfolios of sketches until Madame Besson had paid for the carriage. The following winter there was great suffering in Assisi, and the parish priest at once / >r 32 A DOMINICAN ARTIST appealed to the young French artist, whose liberality had been so notable, for help ; nor was he mistaken in so doing, for Besson immediately set to work to beg for the poor inhabitants of Assisi, and by this means, and a heavy mulct laid on his charitable mother, he was able to send a sum of 1500 f. for the relief of his favourite town. Passionately as Besson was devoted to art, it is evident that a stronger passion was developing itself day by day within him, and God's Grace was drawing Him onwards to the time when a distinct call from the Holy Spirit was to sever him w^holly from the things of this world. Even now he was setting forth God's glory in his life as well as in his paintings. In the same house with the Bessons there lived a Portu- guese family of high position, and the religious indif- ference of the father was roused by noticing the devout life led by his young co-locataire. Acquaintance was made, under pretext of drawing lessons for the younger members of the family, and Besson had the satisfac- tion after a time of putting his neighbours under good religious instruction. In later years, some of this very family became his own spiritual children. Among his artist friends, too, he revived a marked religious influence. Thus we find a letter to one of them who was in trouble : — i> J / A DOMINICAN ARTIST 33 December 2>thy 1839. "My poor dear friend, how many unforeseen troubles have come upon you ! How I wish I were near you, to try at least and comfort you. Do not be cast down, but face your adversity with calmness ; the surest way to relieve our troubles is to accept them all for the love of God, to offer them one by one to Him, as they arise, as a willing sacrifice. Can we ever do too much for Him Who has done so much for us ? Do not overwhelm yourself with work — ^you are so neces- sary to your family and friends— it is a duty to con- sider your health. Do what you can quietly, and leave the results, good or bad, to God, without paying too much heed to men. Our chief work on earth is to save our souls and to love God and man— that is the long and short of all things. ... But be ready for what- ever may arise — no one can foresee what to-morrow may bring forth. We are apt to judge fi-om outward appearance, and in our ignorance we often sorrow over those very things which are really our greatest good. But our Lord, Who knows all, and Who rules all for our benefit, sees otherwise ; and so let us trust all that is dearest to us in His Hands, with full con- fidence in whatever He may appoint In joy or sor- row, in sickness or health, in riches or poverty, desola- tion or consolation, let us be wholly His, Who is the Saviour and Lover of our souls." II v^ 34 A DOMINICAA ARTIST "I sometimes marvel at my own blindness," he wrote that same winter to M. Cartier. " How can one halt so long between self-love and love of God ; between death on the one hand, and Infinite perfeo tion on the other? Yet, while I fully perceive this great truth, why am I so slow to act upon it ? It must be because of the hardness of my stony heart, which lacks even a handful of good soil wherein to foster the gracious seed sown by the Great Husbandman." Such a mind, surrounded by such influences as Rome presented, could not fail to appreciate the religious life. Besson spent more and more time among the friends he had made in different convents, and though he said nothing of any intention of him- self becoming a religious, it scarcely needed the quick penetration of his devoted mother to foresee that, sooner or later, such would be the case. Poor thing ! she who had refused to let her son be educated for the priesthood, lest she should in some measure lose the sole possession of him, which was her one happi- ness in life— was she indeed to have this far sharper sacrifice laid upon her ? The dread was overwhelm- ing, and she used to watch for M. Cartier on the stairs, when he came to see her son, and implore him to dissuade his friend from taking a step which would be so terrible to her. M. Cartier could not withstand the poor mother's entreaties, and discussed the matter \ A DOMINICAN ARTIST 35 with Besson : the result being that the latter promised never to leave his mother, so long as she herself should not wish him to do so. During this winter the Abbd Lacordaire came to Rome, full of eagerness to restore the Dominican Order in France, and with him came Requedat, one of Besson's early friends of the Rue Chabannais ; and naturally the attraction of La Minerva, where they staid, became great for the young artist. On the 8th of April Lacordaire and Requedat received the Dominican habit, — Besson assisting with the deepest emotion, and no little envy of those to whom it was given to be foremost in this self-devotion. The next day the French novices left Rome for the convent of La Quercia at Viterbo, not without a struggle which Lacordaire himself describes as " a sacrifice of blood." "It had cost me nothing," he says, "to leave the world for the priesthood, but it cost me more than I can say to add the burden of the religious life to that of the priesthood. But on the second occasion, as on the first, having once made up my mind, I had no misgiving or thought of turning back, but went straight on to encounter my difliculties." There is a wonder- ful simplicity in P^re Lacordaire's account of his first arrival at Quercia, and it is Purely encouraging to those who may have felt — who does not, at times ? — weighed down by the Cross they have sought and accepted D 2 36 A DOMINICAN ARTIST A DOMINICAN ARTIST 37 voluntarily? After describing their arrival at La Quercia at the end of an exciting day, he says, " Then we went each to his cell It was very cold, the wind had gone round to the north, and we had only our summer habits in fireless rooms ; there was no one in the house that we knew; all the excitement and frestige of the day was over; our friends were no longer near, but we were alone with God, face to face with a life the details of which were new to us. That evening we went to matins, then to the refectory, and so to bed. The next day it was colder still, and we only half understood the routine of our duties. Then a passing weakness came over me ; I thought of all I had left— the clear prospects and certain advantages of my life, the cherished friends, the pleasant and profitable society, the warm hearths, my own cheerful rooms, the numberless attractions with which God had blessed me. To lose all these to indulge the pride of one vigorous action was surely a heavy price! I prostrated myself before God, and asked Him to give me the strength I needed. Before the end of that first day, I felt that He had granted my prayer, and during the last three days my soul has been more and more comforted'." The life was a strict one. "We rise at a quarter past five o'clock, and in a quarter of an hour we go to ' 4 Madame Swetchine, Vie^ i. 280. the inner choir, where we sing Prime, hear mass, and make our meditation. Then we say our own mass. Before noon, we sing Terce, Sext, and None in choir, and on great days High Mass is sung. Dinner at twelve. All our food is maigre, save under dispensa- tion ; and on Friday we fast ; on other days we eat some bread in the morning, but from Sept 14th to Easter the morning fast is condnuous. After dinner we go to recreation or take a siesta, as we will. At three, vespers and compline. From four to eight o'clock we are free to go out if we like. At eight we sing matins and lauds, at a quarter to nine supper, and conversation in the common room till ten, when we go to bed. Besides this, the novices make a short meditation, morning and evening, in their own little chapeL ... We can meet in the novices' sitting-room for conversation at the free hours." Besson returned to his easel, but he had received a fresh impetus towards the religious life ; and the first result was a desire to follow a stricter rule while yet living in the world, and to form an association of artists who should pledge themselves to seek God's glory in all things. With a view to such association Besson wrote to P^re Lacordaire, asking him to frame a suitable rule of life. The answer was that many similar appli- cations had already reached the Father, and that he was about to frame a rule for a confraternity of artists, » A DOMINICAN ARTIST of which the fountain-head should be in Paris. Ac- cordingly, the Confraternity of S. John the Evangelist was founded on the 21st July, 1839, under consti- tutions framed by Lacordaire, who begins them thus : — " Certain French artists, deeply feeling the present condition of society, seek to forward its amelioration by means of Christian art, and, inasmuch as one of the sorest social wounds lies in the unnatural isolation of men living in an artificial state, they have thought good to establish among themselves a confraternity which shall be, in the Church's pregnant language, a brotherhood. Tlie rules which follow are an expres- sion of their present resolution, which they hope will be life-long, of striving together, subject to Jesus Christ and His Church, for the saving of men. May God, the only Source of all lasting good, bless their attempt ! Should they be enabled to win some souls from the mere interests of this life to those of one higher, they will in no wise attribute their success to any merit of their own, but to Him Who can raise the dead, and Whose Hand is never weary of reaching forth refreshment to the tired, of filling the empty heart with heavenly abundance, or of healing the broken in spirit. This Brotherhood is placed by its founders under the protection of S. John the EvangeHst, because that Saint, Apostle, Evangelist and Prophet A DOMINICAN ARTIST 30 was foremost among all the Saviour's disciples to penetrate the mysteries of Divine love and beauty, which are the eternal objects of contemplation to all true artists." The Confraternity professed as its aim the sancti- fication of art and artists, and took as its motto, "Non nobis, Domine, non nobis, sed Nomini Tuo da gloriam." Its members pledged themselves to lead a Christian life, to pray for the conversion of artists specially, to have the Crucifix and a picture of the Blessed Virgin in their rooms, and to dress simply, in black, grey, or white. They had fixed cratherino-s, in order to discuss all that concerned Christian art and the Church, and festivals for spe- cial prayer and Communion. Further, they under- took to look after the younger members of their profession, and to place them under right-thinking masters, as also to endeavour to raise the tone of their models. Their first Prior was Piel, Besson's former intimate friend, who had so warmly shared his eariy aspirations after the higher tone of art, and who was powerfully attracted by Lacordaire*s influence, and that of his friend Requedat, to cast in his lot with them. " It is very fitting for a future Dominican to end his worldly career with the inauguration of such a work," Requedat wrote to Piel, just after he had himself taken the habit 40 A DOMINICAN ARTIST V'th which he earnestly desired to see his friend atuo clothed. The Confraternity was immediately joined by a good many distinguished men, some of whom had, like Piel and Besson, formed part of the Ecole Buchez, and others, who had fallen under the spell — probably the most powerful of the day for the more refined and cultivated young Frenchmen — of Lacordaire. Besson, aided by Charles Hallez, the eminent pianist and composer, formed a branch Confraternity at Rome, in which we find the names of the sculptor Bonnassieux, and Gounod, whose compositions are the proof that he was a worthy member of the high aims he and his companions set before them. Various other guilds followed upon this Artist Brotherhood: the Confi-aternity of S. Luke among the medical profession, headed by Dr. Tessier ; that of S. Yves, for lawj'ers ; and that of Fra Angelico da Fiesole, for engravers ; — the principle of each being identical, i. e. that the members should lead a pious life in the world, and unite their efforts to promote the Kingdom of Christ in their respective profes- sions. The natural result was, that men who had a hidden vocation, developed it under such training; and sundry of those who began as members of a guild, passed on to the religious lile. I .1 y / A DOMINICAN ARTIST 41 \ When the Third Order of Dominicans was restored in France, these Confraternities ceased to exist— a matter of regret, inasmuch as there must at all times, probably, be men whose power to leaven their own circles with holiness of life would be invaluable in such a shape, whereas they might as yet be unequal to the higher demands of the Third Order, which the guilds would tend to supply. At this time Besson was working at his first large picture, the raising of Lazarus. Overbeck used to criticize and encourage the young painter; and all but himself anticipated that it would be a noble work. Besson, however, felt wholly unequal to express on canvas the conceptions of his heart, and he often despaired of success. "Thanks to God, and to your good advice," he wrote at this time to Cabat, "I am beginning to have somewhat more patience with myself, and to rest content under all my diffi- culties and infirmities. God knows it is not easy; and sometimes I fall into such distress, that I am forced to recall all the arguments I have already laid before you, and before our Lord, ^Vho is my only real succour at such seasons.'* This picture was never finished : the artist's vocation was about to express itself distinctly, and his future course was well nigh decided. At the close of the year 1839, Besson had pro- ../' 42 A DOMINIC A ISl ARTIST mised Lacordaire to go to La Querela, and make a copy of a celebrated Madonna, painted by an un-" known artist of the fifteenth century, which the Father wished to place in the first Dominican house he might be able to found in France. This picture had been an object of great veneration ; and in early times a convent was built beside the church which contained it ; but the Senate of Viterbo was unable to decide to what Order both should be entrusted. They finally resolved to send a deputation to the Porta di Firenze, and there ofter La Quercia to the first religious who should enter. This proved to be a Frenchman, Martial Auribelle, General of the Dominicans ; and thus the convent came into the hands of that Order ; and there the first French novices were spending their novitiate. " I was passing through Viterbo in 1836," wrote Lacordaire, "and as I entered by the Porta Toscana, I was struck by the porch and belfry of La Quercia, without knowing even its name; and now it has become my home and shelter, contrary to all human foresight. How marvellously the future is hidden from us, and how often we unconsciously cross the soil where we are destined one day to rest !*' ..." You remember," he says, writing to Madame Swetchine, " the handsome, saintly young Requedat .> He is still more attractive as a religious ; and merely to look at him is a joy to me. He is a treasure ; and \ / ^ A DOMINICAN ARTIST 45 were I to die now, I should feel the establishment of our Order in France safe in his hands. ... He is a saint! and such a tender, devoted friend to me; a very precious stone among the holy souls God has sent to gladden me hitherto ! . . . A young painter, who is a friend of ours, a Frenchman, and a holy fellow, is coming here to copy the Madonna della Quercia for us." Just before Lent, 1840, Besson fulfilled his promise, and went to La Quercia, where his overflowing happi- ness, and his clear view as to God's call, left him with a mind distinctly made up as to the future. While working at the promised copy, he also sketched freely in the neighbourhood. More than forty landscapes, drawn at this time, yet exist. And when his work was finished, he solemnly laid his brush upon the altar, and vowed to forsake his dearly-loved pro- fession and become a Dominican, whenever his mother's consent could be obtained. Only those who knew him best could realize what a sacrifice this was, since painting was, as his friend M. Cartier says, " his very existence and happiness, without which he could scarcely suppose perfect bliss in heaven." Meanwhile, that poor mother, who was left behind at Rome, must have had little doubt as to the sacri- fice she would soon be called upon to make. How she must have prayed and striven with herself, before • 44 A DOMINICAN ARTIST A DOMINICAN ARTIST 45 h she could bring her deep maternal love to the last point of unselfishness, and voluntarily give up her child to God ! Her son returned to Rome for Easter; but he said nothing about his vocation, and perhaps at first Madame Besson hoped that after all the blow was really not about to fall. Such hope, if it ever existed, was not to last long. All his life they had lived in the closest, truest confidence,— next to God, she had no love, no thought, no object save her son, and such love is not easily deceived. The mother's wistful eyes read his inmost soul ; and after hearing Lacordaire preach at the church of S. Louis, there was one final struggle with herself, and she resolved to do as she had ever done, since her fatherless babe first lay in her bosom ; — sacrifice herself to him. Unbidden tears of reverence rise as one pictures the touching scene, when trembling, and yet strong in her pious resolution, striving to fortify herself with the thought of Abraham offering up his only son — perhaps, poor mother! in- dulging a half-hope that some good angel might even yet remove the sharp sword which she was thrusting into her own breast — Madame Besson went one morning into her son's studio (where he himself has told us she rarely penetrated, out of her unselfish consideration and fear lest she should disturb him), and voluntarily gave her unasked consent to part with him. Strong feeling rarely finds many words. " My child," she said, " I know your wish, and I will not be a hindrance to your happiness. You shall be quite free ; and I myself ask you to follow the religious life. I have but few years to live ; I only ask to go where you go, and if you are happy, I shall be happy too." Besson had not had time to speak when Pbre Lacor- daire rang at the bell. He had come to thank his young friend for the copy of the Madonna della Quer- ela. Besson told him what had just passed, adding simply, "Will you have me, Father?'* The good Father was taken by surprise, and his ever-ready flow of sympathy made his tears to flow for the mother, whose sacrifice he knew how to appreciate. The three wept together; but *the victory was won for God, and from that moment Besson never looked back. On May 13th, 1840, Pbre Lacordaire wrote to Madame Swetchine, — "The young painter who copied the Madonna della Querela has joined us. We had no expec- tation of this at present, on account of his mother, for he is an only child ; but she herself has urged him to follow his vocation I went to their house, all unknowing, and needed but to stoop and gather this lovely floweret He is a very miniature Angelico da Fiesole, with an infinitely pure, good, simple soul, and the faith of a. saint. His name is Besson.'* I A DOMINICAN ARTIST 47 CHAPTER II Santa Sabina— Novitiate — Death of Requedat— Dispersion of the French Dominicans — Besson goes to Bosco — Separation from his mother — Letters to her — Death of Piel. Pi:RE LACORD AIRE'S work was prospering; and on May 161^, 1840, he and five other Frenchmen entered the Dominican Monastery of Santa Sabina, under the special protection of Pope Gregory XVI. The monastery and church are upon the Aventine Hill, and command one of those wide- spreading, solemn-coloured views with which the lovers of Roman scenery are familiar. The original church, of Basilican form, was built on the site of Santa Sabina's house, a.d. 425. Pope Honorius I. gave the site of the monastery to the Dominicans in the thirteenth century. S. Dominic himself inhabited it ; and in the garden an orange-tree, planted by the Saint, still flourishes. A graceful legend asserts that the year before Lacordaire gave this new impulse to the Order of S. Dominic, a fresh shoot had burst forth from the venerable stem. Early on the i6th May, Pere Lacordaire said mass in the Saint's cell j and after the festival of the day — ^which was joined by many notable persons, both French and others, sympathizers in the work — was ended, he gathered his companions together in the novices' chapel, and spake at length to them of what they were about to do. His first words were, "Brothers, we are gathered here to pursue a work appalling in its difficulty." He did not wish any one concerned to undervalue this difficulty, or to imagine that success could attend the " Freres Pre- cheurs" by any means, save the blessing of God. Once established in France, he looked with con- fidence to the work they would accomplish for Christ and His Church ; but at present that esta- blishment was but a hope, and he felt that he and his companions might not live to see the result of their sacrifice. These companions were Besson, Requedat, and Piel, who, after some struggle and deliberation, had given himself to the work, writing to his father, on the eve of his departure for Rome, **Once more, farewell ! before I leave our dear France, where my heart will ever be, as far as is consistent with obedience. God has given me grace always to love my country dearly, and I thank Him for 48 A DOMINICAN' ARTIST it now that He sees fit to send me forth. I leave a most dear family behind, and many cherished friends — above all, some very precious graves. I could not pray beside them as I wished when I was last at home: you must do it for me. And when you meet with strangers who are in need, help them in the Name of Jesus Christ, for the sake of your absent son *." The fourth was Hernscheim, a native of Strasburg, by birth a Jew, the grace of whose baptism lay dormant for years. His in- tellectual powers won him a professorship of philo- sophy; but it pleased God to open his eyes to the tnith by means of a simple Sister of Charity, who nursed him in a severe illness, and from a disciple of Cousin, Hernscheim became a son of S. Dominic. Lacordaire*s fifth companion was the Abbe Jandel, the only one of the little band who had ever studied theology. He had become known to Lacordaire when the great orator was preaching an Advent mission at Metz, near which town the Abbe Jandel was at the head of a petit seminaire, and being powerfully drawn to the religious life, he came to Rome with the intention of joining the Jesuits, but was led by God's good Providence to the Dominicans instead. Thus three of the novices had been formed in the 6cole Buchez; and Lacor- * Vie de Ph^e Lacordaire^ i. 346. f s ■ A DOMINICAN ARTIST 45 daire himself kept up some intercourse with M. Buchez, who, while approving some part of the design, would rather have seen his disciples create a new order, more in keeping with his modern political and social views, than submit themselves to a yoke of comparative antiquity. Buchez cor* responded on the subject with Lacordaire, proposing a compromise with the Church, some of whose pre- cepts he would have abrogated as unsuited to the existing state of the world, while he would have substituted others, such as prohibitions against luxury and idleness. "P^re Lacordaire had no mission to transact such exchanges on the part of the Church," M. Cartier somewhat quaintly observes ; " and, more- over, he thought that the Gospel contained sufficient injunctions against sloth and luxury already. Dis- cussion on such terms was simply impossible." Lacordaire wrote at this period, "We are six Frenchmen now inhabiting the Convent of Santa Sabina on the Aventine, who have all been led from the world in different ways, all having lived a life very unlike that to which God now calls us. We shall spend some years here, if God so wills it, not with a view of delaying the struggle, but in order to serious preparation for our difficult mission; so that, returning to France, we may be armed, not merely with our rights as citizens, but with the rights s so A DOMINICAN ARTIST which always arise out of a well-proved devotion to a just cause. Unquestionably it is a trial to be exiled from our country, and leave undone that which even now we might do ; but He Who required his only son of Abraham, has made present renunciation the ordinary condition of a greater good. Some one must sow, where others are to reap. And for this reason we would entreat all those who have hopes for our future to forgive our temporary absence, and not to forget us, or cease to pray for us. Years pass quickly ; and when the day comes that we are found again in the camp oi Israel and France, we shall be none the worse for having grown somewhat older, nor will Providence have been passive the while *." At the same time Besson wrote to his friend Dr. Tessier, " You know how gracious God has been to me, and that I am at Santa Sabina, where, under Pbre Lacordaire's direction, I live in hopes of one day becoming a son of our holy Father S. Dominic. How happy I am ! The Lord has indeed granted the dearest wishes of my heart, unworthy as I am of so great grace, but His Mercy is measured by His Own Infinite Goodness, not by our poor merits. This it is which makes me perfectly happy, and fills me with hope. Our Lord Jesus Christ is so loving, and it is so infinitely sweet to love Him. We are to spend three * Vie de St. Dominique, A DOMINICAN ARTIST S« years here before entering upon our work, and mean- while we are studying S. Thomas, for Pbre Lacordaire wishes us all to be ordained priests before we enter the Order of Frbres Precheurs. So we are striving to prepare ourselves for that privilege, with God's help." The little band did not muster any great amount of theology: as we have seen, the Abbe Jandel alone had given any previous attention to this pursuit; but one and all were enthusiastic in studying the Summa of the Angelic Doctor, a study in which their guide and leader was himself making rapid progress. Those were happy days at Santa Sabina, spent in study and prayer, relieved by frequent visits to the countless sites and scenes which afforded such intense interest to the artist minds of the young brothers. A glowing letter from Piel to his father describes such a visit to the Coliseum, whence he sent a few leaflets as a relic. A trial was in store for the attached group of friends, and one of their choicest members was never to leave Santa Sabina. Requedat — of whom Lacordaire wrote, " I know all the secrets of his spiritual life, and I should scarcely dare tell them to any one, so incre- dible would they seem" — had already shown symptoms of failing health ; — he now became worse, and though Lacordaire, always ready to take the bright side of £ 2 t H 5* A DOMINICAN ARTIST things, hoped against hope, the others felt that they must make ready to part from their brother. Besson wrote to Dr. Tessier, — ** Aug. i6M, 1840. "So far from improving, our poor Requedat's health fails rapidly, and his doctor gives us no hope of recovery ; nothing short of a miracle could save him. This illness, which is likely to deprive P^re Lacordaire of his first and dearest companion, and us all of a dearly loved brother, is a most searching visitation of God's Providence. Pray for him, dear Tessier, and ask the Abbe Desgenettes' prayers." Sept. 3rd Piel wrote also to Dr. Tessier, " Let us bless God always, and above all when He chastens us, for then we may be sure that He is near at hand in mercy. But to-day we are indeed offering Him our first-fmits ! If I could only tell you how gently He has dealt with our dear brother, lulling him to sleep like a child, and causing death to be sweeter than the sweetest sleep. At half-past four this morning, dear Requedat fell asleep in my arms You knew and loved him as well as any of us — his great soul, his true heart, his large mind, his fine vigorous frame — who more likely to have lived long, and to have been foremost among the salt of the earth ! We can but gaze in silence upon the hidden mysteries of God's Will What wild and noble dreams we have all had i4 I 1 A DOMINICAN ARTIST 53 together in days gone by ! noble they were sure to be when he shared them. What wonders he thought to work ! We turned the whole world round our own way in imagination, changed it, ruled it, what not ! And now the most highly gifted, the youngest, best of us all is dead— dying, under the monk's hood, obedient as a little child. He was almost wildly devoted to his country, yet he has died in a foreign land. We, dear Tessier, must never forget that God, Who could thus change one man, can equally change a whole nation. On the Sunday before his death, Requedat told me that he wished to be thoroughly prepared for the Sacrament of Extreme Unction, which he was to receive the next day. ' If I live,' he said, * I pray God that I may serve Him truly as a son of S. Dominic, and if I die I shall still be a Dominican,' He gave no heed to any thing but the Extreme Unction and Communion which he was to receive the next morning. This was at night ; the following day he received the Sacraments in a state of glowing happiness, and then lying down again (for he would be raised to receive our Dear Lord), he had nothing more to wish for. He had already asked forgiveness of all his brothers for any thing wherein he might have ofiended them, or given cause for scandal. Two hours after, he seemed in the last agony, but he had still so much strength that he rallied, opened his eyes S4 A DOMINICAN ARTIST anew, recognized me, and kissed the Crucifix. I cannot tell you how often he did that up to Tuesday evening. His beautiful face was bathed with a cold sweat, but he smiled gently at us. That night Pbre Lacordaire stayed with him till one o'clock, when I took his place, and it was in my arms that he fell asleep in Jesus. His eyes were raised to heaven, his hand lay on his heart — there was not a movement, not a sigh ; he died exactly as he might formerly have fallen asleep after having finished some good work. P^re Lacordaire washed his body, and we clothed him in the habit, and laid him in his coffin. Dear friend, till he was laid there I had not realized that he was dead, he looked so much as though he were only resting on his bed in the choir wmpt in prayer. And when I felt that he was stiff and lifeless, I threw myself upon him, and kissed him repeatedly in the name of all who love him — then I seized one of the brother'^ hands with a loud cry. I fear that it was an act of rebellion against God for depriving me of him. All this I tell- you in the strong confidence of your friendship. You will care to know every thing. . . . He was and is the link which binds us together, next to God, the Author of all good ; he was the means of bringing us together, and he will draw us still closer." A few days later Pbre Lacordaire wrote, " He died w 4^t A DOMINICAN ARTIST is after fourteen months* illness, during which he set forth man^ellous courage, patience, and resignation, and all the other good quahties which you know he possessed. Although God sends us others to mitigate the loss, I feel that it is irreparable, and can only understand it by remembering that all good works must needs be tried by the fires of tribulation. He will plead for us in Heaven, he is the first among us to greet our holy patriarch, S. Dominic, and the many other holy ones of our Order. AVhatever may have been God's design in taking him from us, our part is to accept the Divine Will, and persevere in what we have undertaken." About the same time, Besson fell ill under the pres- sure of too much study, and an austerity which would probably have been restrained by Pbre Lacordaire, had he still been at Santa Sabina. For a month his mother had the happiness of nursing him in her own home, a happiness somewhat marred by his sufferings. As soon as these were relieved, Besson returned to Santa Sabina, where Pere Lacordaire shortly rejoined his little flock, accompanied by some new brothers. It was now thought well to begin a real novitiate. The General of the Order proposed the convent or San Clemente as more convenient for the purpose than that of Santa Sabina, and the little French colony was speedily established there, carrying with i S6 A DOMINICAN ARTIST 141 them Besson's copy of the Madonna della Quercia, and his unfinished Resurrection of Lazarus. A Belgian Dominican was chosen as prior, and a Spaniard as master of novices. Just as the retreat preceding the clothing was about to begin, a new novice arrived. This was a young artist named Danzas, who had known Besson as a member of the Confraternity of S. John the Evangelist, and who now came to take leave of him. But a sudden change came over the youth, and he suddenly determined to remain with his friend, and join in the retreat. Just at this time, when ail seemed prospering, P^re Lacordaire was obliged to announce to his disciples the unwelcome fact that the superior authorities had ordained their separation. He had been well received and made much of, but all the while a presentiment hung over him that a trifle might disturb this pro- sperity, and now his fears were justified. Enemies in France had denounced Lacordaire and his followers as being propagators of La Mennais' doctrine, and the Roman powers took alarm and sought refuge in separating the little band. It was ordered that while he himself remained in Rome, the rest should spend their novitiate, some at La Quercia, some at Bosco in Piedmont. At the same time Lacordaire announced that he left them perfectly free to withdraw while it was time, if this trial was too great for their strength, A DOMINICAN ARTIST 57 they being not yet bound, as he was. Not one, how- ever, altered his determination, and at the Mass, which closed the retreat, each novice, just before receiving Holy Communion, took from off the Altar a paper with the name he was to bear in religion. That of Hyacinthe fell to Besson's lot. Soon after, the dreaded separation took place. On May 13th Pere Lacordaire says, "I ^vrite from our deserted San Clemente. This morning at six o'clock our brothers who are destined for Bosco started, those sent to La Quercia went thirty-six hours sooner. After having been surrounded by a large and happy family I am now alone! We parted with great sorrow, and yet joy- fully, having full trust in one another, loving one another, and hoping one day to be reunited in France "." The Pere Jandel, with Hemscheim and three others, went to La Quercia, and two days later the rest set out for Piedmont, taking Besson's mother with them ; for if her son was no longer to be in Rome, she could not live there either. The affectionate respect with which Madame Besson was treated by the French Dominicans is a strong witness both to her own religious character and to their love for her son ; and on this occasion, as on many others, every one's aim and object was to soften as far as might be for her the pang of parting. They all went together 5 ViCy i. 389. 58 A DOMINICAN ARTIS7 to Sienna and Florence, and on May 25th, 1841, they reached Alessandria, where the final separation was to be. Mother and son slept that night in two rooms only divided by a thin partition, and each strove vainly to stifle their sobs, in order to spare the other. But nature would have her way; and though the mother, ever self-forgetting, would whisper through the wall, " My child, do not weep ; I will be brave, I will not cry any more," — but a brief moment, and on both sides the sobs broke out anew. Next morning Besson went to Bosco, and his mother to Turin. She had been specially commended to the Director of the diligence ser\'ice ; but she forgot all about this, and when on arriving her boxes were taken off, the poor solitary woman simply sat down upon them and wept. It was some time after that she was found in her lonely grief by the official to whose care she had been recommended, and he took every possible care of her, doing all he could to facilitate her journey to Paris, where she arrived, still incapable of all thought save one—her precious child, "for he was her only son, and she was a widow." M. .Cartier very soon took up his abode %vith Madame Besson, and continued to fill the place of a son to her during the rest of her life; and the constant letters which reached her from the novice at Bosco were no small consolation. These letters are A DOMINICAN AR7IS7 59 brimming over with tenderness, and with a deep, true, venerating love such as too many mothers seek in vain from their sons yet with them. " I think con- tinually of you, dearest mother," he writes, "I know all that our separation costs you, and I share to the full your every grief; but like you, I look for consola- tion to us both from God. Whenever I grow anxious about you, either because I do not hear from you, or because I begin to think of all that may befall you, I lay open my heart before God, and commend you to Him As to myself, nothing can be desired beyond our present condition. You saw how kindly the Bosco Fathers received us, and their kindness is unaltered, so you may be at rest for that matter. Our brothers send you many remembrances, and are grate- ful for your thought of them. Be of good cheer, dearest mother. .... I trust that soon you will regain that peace and comfort which our Lord grants to those who love Him, and which can ease the heaviest woes. I do not bid you not to sorrow — I know too well how hard all real sacrifice is ; but such sorrow and tears, if offered to God, are a priceless treasure, and will be a cause of rejoicing to you at the Last Great Day.'* Every little interest of Madame Besson's Parisian menage, was duly appreciated at Bosco. Thus the novice who was deep in S. Thomas Aquinas could Co A DOMINICAN ARTIST find sympathy for the death of his mother's pet dog ; for all the various little annoyances consequent on her change of abode in Paris ; and for every trifling detail concerning her health. He writes, "Cartier tells me that you take great care of him, but that you do not take enough care of yourself, and that he is obliged to quarrel with you sometimes about it. I am quite ready to believe it, for it was always the same; you never let me want for any thing, you foresaw every possible wish of mine, with your bound- less love and forethought ; but you never gave any heed to yourself, and you know you have sometimes made yourr,elf ill, for want of taking proper care. Be sure that I do not want to hinder your kind consideration for our friend ; in truth, I know that in all you do for him, you are not only fulfilling our Lord's teaching, in preferring others' welfare to your own, but that it is your greatest consolation to show your gratitude to Cartier. So that I entirely approve all that your dear Christian heart does for him, but that is no reason why you should neglect yourself; your health cannot stand all that you have had to bear, toil and sorrow, without proper care. Now listen to Cartier, and forgive me for saying it, be obedient to him. If you only knew how much care we religious are made to take of our health, and how watchful our superiors are to enforce due preservation A DOMINICAN ARTIST 61 of health ! and yet one might imagine that if any one has a right to give little heed to such things, it is a religious, whose very profession calls him to die to the world. But it is not so, there is a fitting order and proportion in all things ; and whether in things natural or supernatural, discretion must regulate even our good deeds. God gives us health in order that we may serve Him, and we are bound to do every thing we can to preserve it ; although at the same time we should be ready to lose it, if such be His Will. So please do not suppose that you are as strong now as you were once. You cannot do as you used to do. You know that formerly you were apt to go without food for much too long a time, or only to take the first thing that came to hand, and I have not forgotten how ill it often made you. Do not overdo yourself with household cares, which too have often knocked you up. In short, pray take care of yourself; I know well enough that there is no fear of your ever being too self-indulgent, your danger is all the other way." All Besson's letters to his mother are full of a warm, earnest love which continually reminds one of S. Augustin and Monica. "You know, dearest mother," he writes (Nov. 28, 1841), "that although we are separated, we still share every thing, especially troubles, if you have any, I am as much your child ~,.r H A DOMINICAN' ARTIST as ever, and I love you as my precious mother, to whom, alas, I have caused many griefs and troubles, and but little consolation. Oh, do not suppose for one instant that I love you less because I have given myself to Jesus Christ ! On the contrary, at His Feet I learn how to weigh the greatness of your sacrifice, the tenderness and unselfishness of your love j how great a claim it has upon me, and the poverty, in- gratitude, and hardness of my own heart. Dearest mother, forgive me for all the pain I have caused you ; offer it all to God, He will accept every pang, and will give you the strength and courage which you so greatly need, and still more, that peace and joy which fills the whole being, and which none can fathom save those who possess it. I pray many times each day for you ; do the same for me. Let us pray together, coming to God as poor orphans who put all our hope in Him, and He will give us all the help we need; for humble, trusting prayer wins every possible blessing.** Again, "I thank God for the resignation and strength He has given you, for I well know how your poor heart is rent, and I know that God Alone can enable you to bear your trial. Many times a day I commend you to Him; I tell Him that He is your only hope, strength, and consolation now; that when I caused you to bear a sacrifice so hard A DOMINICAN ARTIST 63 to a mother's heart, above all to such a mother, I left you in His Hands, certain that He would be all that I could ever be, and far more, to you ; for what is a frail human being, however dearly loved, com- pared to the Sovereign Lord, Creator of all things, the Very Source of all that is good and precious. Who loves us with such tender, comprehensive love ? Dearest mother, put all your trust in God, He Alone is our unfailing Friend, and He Alone will protect and comfort us, come what may ; when all else fails us, He is sure to abide by us. We may safely cleave to Him, for neither sorrow, nor difficulty, nor death itself can separate us from Him and His boundless love. All else we must leave, but He will never leave us." The change from Rome to Bosco was not acceptable to Besson as far as outward things were concerned. The monk's vocation had by no means extinguished the artist, and Besson missH the glorious views and the venerable associations of Rome, the marvellous beauty of the scenery, the magnificence of her churches and ruins. But he gave himself up to diligent pre- paration for taking the novice's habit, which ceremony took place on the 28th May, 1841 ; and immediately afterwards a fresh anxiety arose through the serious illness of another of the little band of friends. Like Requedat, Piel, who next to him was Besson's closest A DOMINICAN ARTIST friend, was to be called to rest before he had borne the burden and heat of the day. He had been taken ill during the journey from Rome to Bosco ; and but a few days after taking the habit, he became so much worse as to leave no hope of recovery. Lacordaire wrote on his return to Bosco, " Four months have made such ravages, that I should not recognize him but for his spiritual characteristics. These are unchanged : he is lively, calm, serene, resigned, in- conceivably cheerful. Fr^re Pierre (Requedat) was equally resigned, but there was a certain severity in his calmness, whereas death seems to smile on Piel, and he knows neither regrets nor temptation. It appears that he always expected to die thus at his present age. We who watched Frere Pierre's long illness, and who are now called to watch this dear brother, can only accept God's Will, and rejoice in the hope that these two sweet souls, so soon lost to us here, will plead lor us in Heaven. Amid all our trials and crosses, we see God's Hand above us, training us for His work as He has ever trained all His servants, through suffering. Doubtless there is much more in store for us." Besson wrote of the illness as follows : — "Bosco, Sept. I'jtk, 1841. " Dearest Mother,— Perhaps you know, though I did not want to make you anxious, that our dear A DOMINICAN ARTIST «s brother Piel is ill. He has been suffering from his chest ever since he came to Bosco, and soon after we took the habit he went to bed, and has never been up since M. Tessier writes that his father is painfully anxious ; and in truth I gi'ieve with them, without any power to give other consolation than that which our Lord imparts with every Cross He lays upon us ; but it is hard to bear nevertheless. Pere Lacordaire has written to M. Tessier, or I should have done so myself Tell him from me that while God lays on us this trial of losing our dear brother and his friend, there is every ground of comfort for one who, like himself, knows that it is by the pathway of suffering alqne that we may hope to follow our Dear Lord Jesus Christ, and enter with Him into His Glory. Our dear invalid feels this so strongly that he daily thanks God for the Cross laid on him, a Cross which does not seem either too heavy or too lasting, but one to be cherished as coming from a Hand Wliich is wont to prove those He loves, and Which turns all things to their good. He is perfectly at rest, quite cheerful, desiring nothing save what God wills, and only asking patience and courage to be faithful to the end. We shrink from the thought of our loss, and yet death must come to all ; and why should we look that those we love should be spared when Our Lord and His Mother passed through its F 66 A DOMINICAN ARTIST I A DOMINICAN ARTIST gates? He has warned us that it will come upon us like a thief in the night ; may it be given us so to watch that we may be found ready! * Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord/ " ^'Oct. 12///, 1841. "Dear Piel is no better; and there is, humanly speak- ing, no hope. We are looking for the parting, which is made easier by his courage and trust. Happy indeed are those who have put all their trust in God. At such seasons as these one realizes the emptiness of the things of this world, and one learns to long after the only real treasures, which are beyond the reach of death. At this moment our brother's greatest comfort lies in that he has given ^up every ,thing for the Saviour's Love, Who is his hope and joy. What one has sowed in life one will reap in death, and they who sow in tears shall reap in joy. May God give us grace to die as he dies, in the Love of Christ ! It is possible that Piel's illness may go on for some time yet. God could restore him to health ; but be it as it may, he is ready, and by God's grace so are we — His Holy Will be done.'* On the 39th of December the young novice's illness was closed in death, and Besson wrote to Dr. Tessier and his other friends in France, to inform them. " On Sunday morning, at four o'clock, after nine t 67 hours' agony, our brother Piel went to the reward of his patient sufferings. You who loved him, and were so truly loved by him, know how heartily he offered himself up to God when he left the world ; and you know, too, that nothing bound him to this life; so that he did not find it hard to leave a world to which he was in truth already dead. On S. Andrew's Day (November 30th) he made his profession; rejoicing to make this formal offering to God of that which had practically long been His. From that day he was increasingly recollected, and gave himself up to a constant preparation for death, which he looked for as very near. His body grew daily weaker, but his clear, strong mind rejoiced to see the gradual crum- bling of the clay wall which alone kept him back from God. For some time past he had received the Blessed Sacrament as a Viaticum every week, always with tears of mingled joy and contrition. On the 17th he was so weak, and his countenance so changed, that it was thought well not to delay administering Extreme Unction. He made ready and received it calmly an hour after being united to our Dear Lord in Holy Communion, and from that time his gentle happiness became still more marked — his words were so sweet and so holy, we all hung upon them. In the evening he revived a little, and the doctor thought he might live till Christmas, but he did not think so F 2 68 A DOMINICAN ARTIST himself, and he made all his last preparations, asking me, among other things, to write to his father and to you, to say how heartily he loved you to the end. The next evening the brother who had been watching by him fetched me : I found him oppressed and coughing violently. " I do not know what it is," he said, " but I never felt any thing like this." I asked if he was in pain. " Yes," he said, " I feel a sort of heavy pain which will kill me, I scarcely seem able to breathe." .... The Prior staid with him till mid- night, and gave him absolution several times. After he was gone, Piel became a little easier, and spoke freely of the mercies granted to him. " What pain !" he said, more than once, " what pain ! My God, I do not murmur, I deserve far more 1 WTiat mercy to have brought me out of the abyss of my past life, to die here in the bosom of the Church, surrounded by so many blessings and sacraments. Supposing I had died while I was an architect ! " Then he would kiss his crucifix, exclaiming " Blessed Jesus, Gentle Jesus, how gracious Thou art ! \Vlien I recount all I have done to offend God, I marvel that He has taken pity on me ! My God, my sins are so many, so grievous !'* I said, "God's mercy is greater, and that has led you here." "I know it, I know it," he said; "all my hope is in the Blood of Jesus Christ." And again he kissed the crucifix, repeating, "Sweet Jesus, I long A DOMINICAN ARTIST 69 to die, I long to die to-night, but I know I ought only to wish that whatever Thou wilt may be *." I asked him when he should come to the Presence of God, to remember all of us his brethren, his father, you Tessier, and all his friends. He raised his head a little, and said with a look which seemed to touch my very heart's core, " Do you think that I could ever forget you any where?" He went on thus, in con- verse with God and us, or rather, in truth, always with God, until half-past three in the morning, when his sufferings became easier, and his breathing less laboured ; he said that he wished to sleep a while. And seeing his countenance bright, and finding his hands warm, I thought there was no immediate prospect of death j and as there might yet be many hours of suf- fering, I left another brother with him, while I rested a little while, in order to be with him at the end. But I was altogether mistaken ; that drowsiness was one of the last symptoms, and in half an hour two or three moans were the only sign that soul and body were severed, so that I had not the sad comfort of closing his eyes. He was robed in his Dominican habit, the brethren assembled and said the customary prayers, * As another holy man has worded it : — **I wish to have no wishes left, But to leave all to Thee ; — And yet I wish that Thou shouldst will, Things that I wish should be." ^d A DOMINICAN ARTIST \i/ and at nine o'clock he was carried in procession to the church, where a solemn Mass was sung, and the Office for the Dead said. All day some brothers remained beside his body saying the Psalter. In the evening the burial rites were performed— the body carried by his brethren in procession round the church, amid a crowded congregation, and then, after the last touch- ing service, we saw him we so loved covered with a handful of earth, and laid in the vaults below the church. The next morning the grave beneath the High Altar was closed, and there he awaits the Coming of the Lord to kindle the dust, and clothe him with that glory and immortality which He has promised to His Saints. Let us be comforted, dear Tessier ; but a little while, and we shall be gathered together again in the Bosom of God, never more to part. Then, as the Church teaches us, mourning and sadness shall be no more ; the Lord will wipe away all tears, and all sorrow shall have passed away for evermore." CHAPTER III Profession— Letters to his mother— P^re Besson gives up paint- ing—Ordained Deacon and Priest— Licensed as a Confessor —Lacordaire returns to Notre Dame— Pere Besson Master of Novices. PIEL had been allowed to make his profession as death drew near, but it was not till the following spring that the other brothers made theirs. Besson announced the coming event to his mother as follows : — «* Santa Croce, Bosco, May \^th, 1842. " Dearest Mother, — I am afraid you will think that I have been long in writing, but I waited for Pbre Lacordaire's arrival, which was delayed owing to his illness on the road. He came at last well, though weak, and only wants a few days' rest. You can imagine how glad we are to have him with us, he is always such a help and comfort He confirmed all that you have told me as to your being comfortable in 72 A DOMINICAN ARTIST your lodgings; and he says that, thanks be to God, you are as calm and resigned as is possible after the sacrifice you have made. I ki^ow well that you still shed many tears over our separation — in truth so do I sometimes, when I think of you, poor dear mother ; but they are not altogether sad tears, for I know that they are not displeasing to God, and that while we offer up to Him the happiness of living together. He v/ould not have us love each other less fondly; rather on the contrary, He sanctifies and strengthens our natural bond by grace. Yes, dearest mother, now that I am on the point of being consecrated to God for ever by the solemn vows of my religious profession, I feel that I love you more tenderly than ever; I value more deeply all that you have ever done for me, — above all, the costly sacrifice, so hard to a mother's heart, of consenting to my vocation. You could make no more precious offering to God, and surely you may feel that in so doing you have laid up treasure in Heaven, which * neitlier moth nor rust can corrupt.' Your cross will likewise be your abiding consolation. Next Sunday fortnight. May 29th, the festival of Cor- pus Christi, we are to take the vows. You will pray specially that day for us all, and for me in particular. On such a day no prayers can be so efiective, or draw dow^n so many blessings upon me, as yours, for our Dear Lord sees your heart, and knows that you are Hi! A DOMINICAN ARTIST n . Ill giving Him your best earthly treasure. I have a spe- cial favour to beg of you, too ; for I most earnestly wish that on that day you should receive the Holy Com- munion, joining your intention at the Altar to ours, that God's Blessing may be upon us. Ask Him that we may be faithful unto death, that He would make us religious after His own Heart, truly humble, obe- dient, and devoted to His most Holy Will. Once more, dearest mother, I ask your forgiveness for all the sorrow I have ever caused you during my whole life ; sadly too much it has been. Such a mother deserved a better son. Forgive every thing, and give me your blessing, the most precious inheritance a mother can give her child ; with that every thing which God may have in store for me will be welcome ; troubles will lose their bitterness, and it will be my comfort in my last hour to remember that I had my mother's blessing. Adieu, dearest mother, write and tell me that you for- give me, and ask God to pour out His Blessing upon me, of which yours will be a pledge. May God and His dear Mother keep you, and fill your heart with strength and comfort." The 29th of May came, and the young French postulants took their final vows. Besson, now Frere Hyacinthe, wrote the next day as follows to his mother : — "Dearest loving Mother,— God has completed the 74 A DOMINICAN ARTIST precious work which He vouchsafed to begin in us. Yesterday evening, at seven o'clock, after the proces- sion of the Blessed Sacrament, and Benediction, we took the vows with a joyful soul, and henceforward we are for ever sons of the holy S. Dominic. The Lord indeed is our inheritance, and all this world's treasures seem very paltry as compared to that which we possess. The Lord Himself is our portion ; what can we ask save to love Him day by day better, and to be more and more closely united to Him ? Oh, dearest mother, if you could but know what intense happiness there is in our religious profession ! To the world it seems all sacrifice ; but he who has made it knows in the bottom of his heart that, while seeming to give up every thing, in truth he wins every thing ; — it is not really he who makes a gift to God, but on the contrary, he himself receives the gift of gifts, and his eyes are opened to see the priceless treasure which was smothered under the worldly dust he has now cleared away. I thought of you many times during the day, for I felt that you would be sad at heart, and were probably shedding not a few tears. I prayed that God would soften them with His loving consola- tions, rather than that He would check them ; for I know well that it is not possible but that a mother should weep on such a day, and in truth the tears we shed upon our Dear Lord's Breast are a sweet relief to A DOMINICAN ARTIST 75 an afflicted soul. I kept your dear letter about me all day for the sake of the blessing it contains; it made me so happy. I kissed it with as much love and reverence as if it had been your own dear self; nor was it the less precious because I knew well all that those few lines cost you ! "And now, dearest mother, be comforted ; look for comfort in our Dear Lord, and put all your trust in Him. This world's trials are sharp, and often hard to bear. When I recall all that you have already had to bear, and still have to bear, I feel that you may in- deed be called a Mater dolorosa, but it is a name in which you may glory, since it is the name given by the Church to the Mother of God, and Jesus Him- self is called in Holy Scripture a * Man of sorrows.* The true Christian finds strength and comfort in the Cross. Oh, dearest mother, every thing in this world passes away so quickly; happiness, pleasure, youth, health, all flies before us, and then we come to the time appointed for all men, when we stand literally naked before God ; with nothing left save that which we have done for Him. Let us try to do a great deal for Him, and if our weakness hinders us, let us at least do what we can ; let us bear patiently the Crosses He lays upon us, and if they are not such as we should choose for ourselves, let us bear. them all the more willingly and trustfully, inasmuch as we thereby know f| 76 A DOMINICAN ARTIST that they are free from self-will. Above all, dearest mother, comfort yourself with the hope of that here- after which is our all, and in the light of which all earthly troubles, however heavy, seem as nothing; and remember that God will never forsake you ; we are never so safe as in His Hands. Be sure that I love, and shall ever love, you with all the love and respect I owe to my mother, and to a mother who has borne and does bear so much for me. Nothing can ever lessen this love; religion does not loosen the sacred ties of nature ; on the contrary, it confirms them, because they are sanctified and rest in God. I cannot say when we may meet again, that we must leave to our Dear Lord, the Friend and Father of us both. Let us leave the disposal of all things to Him, thanking and blessing Him for all He gives and all He takes away. Adieu, dearest mother, pray without ceasing for me, as I for you, . . . especially at ]\Iass, and during the interval between the Elevation of the Precious Body and Blood, because I know your great confidence in prayers offered at that most solemn time." On the same day Besson wrote a few. lines to M. Car- tier : " I prayed most sincerely for you," he says, " on the day of my profession, asking Him to pour out upon you all such graces as may make you most acceptable in His sight. Oh, be sure that our Gracious Father A DOMINICAN ARTIST 77 wdll never forsake you ; but that, however great the troubles of this life may be, He will be ever ready to sustain you. We made our profession before the Father Provincial, who came that day to the convent. Pbre Lacordaire gave us a brief and loving exhortation out of the fulness of his heart. It was the brightest day in our lives, and our profession seemed a climax to the festival of Corpus Christi, in itself so beautiful. Oh, my dear friend, if you could but know how happy, how light-hearted we are now ! Thank all our breth- ren of the Confraternity of S. John for us. We fondly hope that their prayers have had a part in confirming the grace we have received." Some years later, the Pere Besson wrote to congratu- late one of his spiritual children on his profession, in language which one feels recalled his own experience of the like occasion. " I share your happiness," he says, " on the eve of so important a day. May the Lord, to Whom you are about to dedicate yourself as a pure and happy bride, abundantly fill you with all the best and richest blessings ! You know now what strength and comfort there is in giving yourself up w^holly to Him : His Providence has watched over you through all the heavy trials through which He has led you. He has upheld you that you should not sink in your weakness, and now He gives you a foretaste of that bliss which He has prej^ared for them that love 78 A DOMINICAN ARTIST Him in Heaven. May the remembrance of to-day*s happiness be your stay during the hours of exile which you have yet to endure before you are called to the Very Presence of Him Whose own you are henceforth to be ; however trying that exile may be, you will not be dismayed while you bear in mind that the Lord is your Rock and your strong Salvation. The Cross which you wear on your breast was steeped in that Blood which He shed for love of you ; and one look at that will comfort you in every trouble, and rekindle your sinking heart if sometimes you are half ready to faint under your burden. Fear nothing, you who this day are receiving so great grace, but give yourself up with confidence and joy to Him Who gave Himself for you. You will never again know so bright a day as this until the blessed day when Jesus will receive you into the Company of His Saints ; but this is the dawn of future happiness, and though your days to come will not be so joyous as this is, they will not be less sanc- tified. May God fill your heart with peace, courage, and love; may you grow in Jesus, and ripen for Heaven, which is yours already through Him Who is the glory and joy thereof! " Shortly after Besson's profession, the French Domi- nicans who had remained at La Quercia joined their brethren at Bosco, and all gave themselves up with fresh ardour to their theological studies, as Lacor- A DOMINIC 4N ARTIST 79 daire's earnest desire was that all his disciples should receive Priests' Orders before beginning their work of preaching. At that time, however, Besson had not made up his mind on this point, his humility made him wish rather to remain as a lay brother ; he thought himself unequal to grapple with theological studies, and affection for his old pursuit led him to believe that he might do more for the cause of Christ and His Church if he continued to paint than as a preacher. Pere Lacordaire himself had said in his original *' Memoire," " Although the principal aim and object of this Order is to carry out the work of Apostles, and teach the knowledge of Divine things, S. Dominic did not exclude any work which might be profitable to souls ; nor must we marvel to find his disciples following art, or employed in pastoral ministries, ecclesiastical government, or a multitude of other duties which have no seeming connexion with the Order save the common bond of self-devotion. Thus no one who has grasped the true view of religious art need marvel to find artists — ay, and great artists — among the Freres Precheurs. Art, like eloquence and literature, is but an expression of Truth and Beauty, and may well be cultivated by those whose aim is to raise the souls of their fellow-men to contem- plate the invisible. God Himself not only gave the tables of the Law to Moses on Mount Sinai, He also 8o A DOMINICAN ARTIST set before him the pattern of the tabernacle, and of the ark of the Covenant. In truth the Architect of all creation is the First and Greatest of artists, and the more abundantly man is filled with His Spirit, the more able and worthy he is to aspire to great and holy achievements of art. The Religious of medineval times were alive to this truth. Great architects, sculptors, painters^ composers, were formed in the Cloister, as well as great authors and orators. When a Christian man entered within its shelter, he offered, not his body and soul only, but whatever talents had been bestowed on him, to God; and let those talents be what they might, he was well nigh sure to find that others had gone before him with the like. Within the sanctuary, all our brethren were alike, all offered the same sacrifice of prayer ; but when each returned to his cell, the prism was dissolved, and every one sent forth a ray of Divine Light after his ov*ti peculiar fashion ^" Consistently with this expression of opinion, Pere Lacordaire left Besson absolutely free to decide his own course ; and after much thought and many prayers, the Dominican artist resolved to give up painting, though, as we shall see, the renunciation was not for ever; and at a later period he resumed his favorite A DOMINICAN ARTIST 8l 1 Memoir e pour le Retablissement en France de VOrdre des Frlres Frecheurs, chap. v. pursuit under the auspices and even the direct com- mands of the holy Father himself. But by that time Besson was confinned in his religious vocation, and probably no longer felt that his passionate love of art was a peril, or likely to draw him down from his higher aspi- rations. At the present time he was inclined to look upon the fascinations of art as a snare to his soul, and accordingly he entreated Pbre Lacordaire to destroy all his sketches and studies. The Father had no mind to perpetrate such a barbarism ; instead of which he gave them all to a French artist then in Rome, Claude La- vergne, who knew how to appreciate them. Madame Besson naturally wished that they had been given to her, and when M. Cartier wrote to express her regrets, Bes- son returned the following simple, humble answer: — " Pray forgive me for not having sent you my draw- ings, which our friend Cartier says you would like to have had. The truth is, that in disposing of them we ,were guided rather by circumstances than by feeling, although in truth and justice I ought to have had more consideration for you. After my profession, Pere Lacordaire, knowing how painful the struggles I felt between my new state of life and my natural in- clinations were to me, bade me weigh duly before God which* course I ought to follow, and whether I should give up painting, or stick to it as my occupation. I would fain have had him decide the question, but he St A DOMINICAN ARTIST refused to do so ; and being thus forced to choose for myself, I thought it all over before God, and in so do- ing I was struck with the danger of giving Him half a heart, when I had promised one whole and undivided So I determined, as I believe, according to God's guidance \ and I told the Father that I would give up painting for ever, and never touch a brush again, un- less obedience should call me to do so. Consequently I begged him to get rid of all my drawings as soon as possible, burning or giving them away, because I felt I should be stronger when they were out of the way. It would have cost much more than the drawings are worth to send them to Paris, and Lavergne was at Rome, so the Father thought we had better give them to him. And there is the whole history of his having them rather than you. I am so very sorry that you and Cartier should have been grieved about it! please, both of you, forgive me. After all, those wretched daubs are not worth a moment's vexation." All this time Besson's letters to his mother show how fondly she was still grieving over the separation from her child. Every one is full of such consola- tion as he could set before her. Her devoted friend M. Cartier was absent, and Besson writes, — "Bosco, June 24M, 1842. " Poor dear Mother, — I was moved to the bottom of my heart by your dear letter, and I kissed it ten- I I A DOMINICAN ARTIST 83 (lerly, as if it were your own dear self. So you are alone for a little while ? Yet not really alone, for our dear Lord and His holy Mother are with you, strengthening your heart — invisible to outward sight, I know, but visible to the soul's eye. I could see it in every word of your letter. Indeed, who but our Lord could give a poor mother courage to sacrifice all that is dearest on earth to her ? When you consented to our separation, it was not that our love was lessened; on the contrary, we love each other more closely than ever, and being apart we find relief in tears, knowing that He Who joined us in such close, sweet love is the same Who parts us now. But we know, too, that this separation is but brief, and we bear it gladly, in the precious hope of being soon brought together again, never more to part." "Bosco, August 2nd, 1842* " Dearest Mother, — How shall I tell you how happy your generous, loving letter has made me ! If I could but give you in return as much comfort as you have given me ! Poor dear mother, telling me not to fret about you, because you are satisfied, and quite happy in my religious profession ! In truth, I recognize God's All-powerful Hand in this strength and comfort which He gives you, and I thank Him with all my heart, for nothing gives me so much pleasure as to know that you are calm and satisfied. If you only knew G 2 A DOMINICAN ARTIST what it is to me to think that you are anxious and sorrowful!" " Bosco, December ^th^ 1842. "Yes, dearest mother, our Lord said truly that whosoever should forsake father or mother, son or daughter, for His Sake, should receive a hundredfold in this world, and in the world to come life everlasting ! You have given one son to God, and He has given you several instead, and surrounded you with kind friends who love you heartily, and do their best to comfort you. And although all that is but earthly comfort, on which we must not lean over much, since the real aim of all Christian sacrifice is not of this world, and we do not suffer and toil for its poor pleasures^ still it is very precious, en passant, to experience the truth of our Blessed Saviour's promises, in which alone all our hopes are fixed. Let us be at rest, dearest mother; let us go on quietly, day by day, without anxiety as to the future ; let us accept thankfully all the blessings God vouchsafes to send us, bearing in mind that whether He gives or takes away, all is still goodness and mercy, and that while we accept His blessings, we should no less accept His afflictions, for the Lord is a good Father, Who loves us deariy, and knows, far better than we do, what is best for us, causing all things to work together for good to those that love Him. Let us cleave to Him, dear mother, \ A DOMINICAN ARTIST 8S and to Him Only, for He is our true Friend, Wild will never forsake us, and Who Alone can succour us when the time comes, as come it must, in which no one else, however loving and devoted, can be of any help. Whether our remaining days be sad or glad, they have a sure and speedy limit ; every day, every hour, brings us nearer the Living God : whether we will or will not, death will before long call us hence, and we shall taste of His Justice or His Mercy, for ever. Dearest mother, what are all the comforts or joys of this world, compared with that blessed eternity? Every thing good and beautiful which delights us here is the work of God's Hand, and if the mere reflecUon of His Light is so exquisitely enjoyable, -what must the Very Light Itself be? All joy, beauty, glory, abun- dance — all pure, strong love is wholly of God, and that in a measure beyond our understanding. But here no joy is quite unmixed, no possession free from care, no love from trial, whereas to those who attain that blessed union with God, it will be far otherwise; nothing will be able to deprive them of their inex- haustible treasure, but their hearts will be filled for ever with a joy which can never fade or pall. Who can tell the good things which the Lord has prepared for them that love Him ? Dear mother, let us fix our hearts on Heaven — our treasure is there, let our heart be there too. Let us be full of trust. If God so loved S6 A DOMINICAN ARTIST the world as to deliver up His Only Son Jesus Christ for us all, how shall He not with Him freely give us fill things? Let us often call to mind all our Saviour's sufferings for us in His Passion : His Blood and pains are an endless treasure from which we may con- tinually draw all precious gifts. Of ourselves we can do nothing, but we can do all * through Christ Which Strengtheneth us.' Courage and confidence ! so may we rejoice in Him Who has called us to the inheritance of Saints, through His Own Merits. Farewell, dearest mother ! Commend me to dear Cartier, and beg him to let me hear of himself as well as of you. Adieu, adieu ! I embrace you both in our Saviour, in Whom I love you, and to AVhose protection I commend you, entreat- ing Him to make you happy by causing you to grow daily in His love. Adieu, dearest mother, adieu ! " On September 24, 1842, Besson received Minor Orders, and during Lent, 1843, he was preparing for Deacon's Orders. On March 30, he wrote to his mother, — "Next week we go into retreat, preparatory to receiving Deacon's Orders on Holy Saturday. Pray very specially for me during this season : I never knew before how much I need it! How wonderful are God's ways! I overflow with wonder and awe when I think how God's Infinite Mercy has destined me to the grace of Holy Orders. All the circumstances f I A DOMINICAN ARTIST 87 of my childhood— especially the fatherly care of the dear old Cure of Notre-Dame de Lorette— seemed to point that way out for me, but, far from following it I gave myself up to the wildest follies of heart and imagination, drinking deep of them all; and just when I was in the depths of spiritual darkness, and wander- ing in a labyrinth of weakness and passion, God's Merciful Hand arrested me, and led me, by secret ways which I knew not, back to the threshold of His sanc- tuary, which I am now about to enter, and that, too, with the additional blessing of my religious profession. mother, you who know, in some measure, how great my faults and wanderings have been, how richly 1 deserved to be forsaken by the God I so continually offended — you who know, though but little, the terrible pride of my heart which so often led me to condemn harshly the trifling faults of others, while I myself was nothing but a whited sepulchre, full of all uncleanness — surely you must cry out with me, that God is indeed Good, and His Mercies past finding out ! After such experience of them, who need despair ? and how can one teach those who have not had any personal expe- rience of it, how abundant His forgiveness is, and how fatherly and loving is the kiss with which He receives the poor prodigal who returns to Him ? If men did but know * the gift of God,' they would in- deed think far otherwise than they do of the things 88 A DOMINICAN ARTIST of this world. Pray, dearest mother, pray for your child who loves you fondly in Jesus Christ our Saviour, to Whom he daily commends you. Adieu ^" A little later he wrote, — "Bosco, Attgust2^rd, 1843. ... " I do not know when it may please God that we meet again : I do not wish either to kindle or destroy the hopes you entertain — hopes which I should so rejoice to see realized ! God's Providence is our guide, we are in His Hands, and it is easier to give our selves up to His guidance than to foresee what He may appoint for our future. But anyhow, in all human probability, I see no very immediate prospect of any such happy meeting. I shall probably be kept here, for some time to come, by the studies which are neces- sary before I can set to work in my ministry ; unless indeed circumstances were to arise which might recall us all to France. I know this is very hard for your poor loving heart, but v/hat can we do ? God's holy 2 It must be borne in mind that this language was not justified by Besson's early life, which, as his mother and all who knew him testify, was more than usually good and pure for one who had not as yet opened his eyes to the full beauty of the Faith. But he looked at his past life in the pure light of God's Love, and tiny motes became as beams under its searching power. The "wild imaginations" to which he alludes were probably his political and socialist dreams, and his passionate devotion to art. A DOMINICAN ARTIST ^ Will must be done ; and we cannot expect to enlist under the banner of the Cross without suffering. I know it is you, poor dear mother ! not I, who are sacrificed. Your sufferings have been, and are, such as my hard, unfeeling heart can scarcely fathom. Com- pared to you, I hardly know what love is ! . . . . My ordination is fixed for September 23, only a month hence ! Need I ask you to pray for me ? Of old, the Church only admitted those who had not soiled their baptismal robes to the Priesthood, and now she ad- mits even such a one as I am ! Alas, you know my past life enough to understand how such an awful grace ought to fill me with trembling and abasement ! W^ould that I could wash away my stains in tears, but my hard heart refuses to shed them. Dearest mother, pray for me. Adieu ! May our Saviour have you in His Holy Keeping, and soften all your tears by teach- ing you to shed them on His Breast ! " The Ordination took place at Alessandria, and the new priest announced it to Madame Besson as follows : — ^^Septemher 2^rd, 1843. "Dearest Mother, — I was ordained this morning, and I write you one line, just to thank you for your last letter, and to pour out some part of the happiness with which I am filled into your loving heart. But, after all, what can I say? No words can express 90 A DOMINICAN ARTISI what I am feeling to-day, it is too far down in the depths of one's soul. I am happy; but it is a happi- ness which will not take shape in words : if you were here, I should embrace you, and as I pressed you to my heart, yours would understand the joy which almost oppresses me. Dear mother, God's joy is very deep. Your child does not recognize himself : I love, but I want to love more — our poor human hearts are two narrow for such great things ! I shall not celebrate my first Mass until October i, Sunday next. ... I need not say how I shall daily remember you, my dear Cartier, and my' venerable benefactor the Cure, before the B. Sacrament. I hope God will give me grace never to be ungrateful any more ! And now that I possess that great treasure, I mean to draw largely from it for you, for all my friends, and enemies, if I had any, but up to the present time no one has ever wTonged me or injured me in the smallest degree — I am every one's debtor, and have nothing to for- give." On November 7th, he wrote from Bosco, — " I said my first Mass on the Feast of the Rosary, as I told you I should— Pbre Lacordaire served me at the altar. It was a great festival in the convent, for I am the first of our Brothers who has been or- dained. Two French travellers came to spend the day with us, and join our festival, which was a sort of A DOMINICAN ARTIST 91 n family fete in this foreign land. My next Mass was said for M. le Cure (Notre-Dame de Lorette), my benefactor, and that following for you. I knew you would not grudge giving him the preference. . . . Re- member how he used to say he hoped we should pray for him ! He was a good Father to us, and we can never forget him." Pere Besson had next to pass his examination as a confessor j and the venerable theologians of his Order who examined him expressed their admiration of his clear head and accurate knowledge. Madame Besson's house in Paris had become the established rendezvous of any French Dominicans who might come there, and she found her greatest happiness in being a sort of agent for all that con- cerned her son's Order. Many of those who wished to fonvard the incipient work used to make her their confidant, and she frequently became the channel of gifts and other assistance. To her great delight, this year, when P^re Lacordaire came to Paris for his Conferences at Notre-Dame, he took up his abode in her house, where he was an honoured guest. Her son wrote at this time,-^- ** December t^thf 1843, " I was very pleased to hear that our good Father was staying with you : I am sure it will be a great comfort to you, and I thank God for it I am quite 93 A DOMINICAN ARTIST A DOMINICAN ARTIST 93 sure that every time you see him, it makes you think of me ; nor am I, on my part, forgetful of you. God knows how glad I always am to hear of any thing which can soften the privation our Lord has laid on you. You see, dearest mother, that His Providence never leaves us, but brings gladness out of our very sorrows. Trust wholly to Him, and be sure every thing -will turn to good. I am not the only one who is pleased to hear this news : my brethren have re- joiced too, for although the greater part of them have never seen you, they all know you from hearing us talk of you. I am well aware that there is no need to tell you to take good care of our dear Father, or to w-atch over his health, — I know you will do more than I could suggest ; but let me remind you to see that he is quite free and independent, because, you know, we religious want to be a great deal alone, with a view to prayer and the various other duties belonging to our state of life. I dare say it is needless to say this, for I well remember all your thoughtfulness for me in this matter, and how unselfish you were in securing my quiet hours. I did not sufficiently appreciate that proof of love then, but now that our Lord has given me greater light, I feel how generous and considerate you were. Alas ! I was more of a bear than a man in those days, and caused you great pain — but why should I return to that subject, since you have forgiven V every thing ? Cartier, too, will be very pleased. I do thank God for having given you this pleasure ! you are now, both of you, quite a part of our little Dominican family, and sharers in our thoughts and prayers. " P^re Lacordaire was to preach yesterday : I am sure your knees shook under you all day ! It was an important day for us : we prayed a great deal, as we thought of our friends and brethren, and of our coun- try ; we asked many blessings, above all the fulfilment of God's Will, which is the real aim of all Christian hopes. What has happened? we know nothing; but we are not anxious, knowing that the Lord is Good, and that, whatever He may have ordered. He will not forsake us, and that whether in success or defeat we must alike thank Him." Mgr. Affre, who was a stedfast and true friend to Lacordaire, dreaded the result of his appearance in his Dominican habit in the pulpit of Notre-Dame, and he accordingly, to Lacordaire's regret, obtained a special permission from the Pope for the Father to appear in the dress of a secular priest. It ended in Lacordaire's w^earing the rochet and surplice of a Canon over his habit, and, as he had himself foretold, after the first few words he spoke, no one heeded any thing save the sub- ject of his discourse-7-he had taken that vast congrega- tion by storm. This was on December 3, 1843. The Archbishop's anxiety was manifest, as was that of all 94 A DOMINICAN ARTIST A DOMINICAN ARTIST 95 Lacordalre's friends ; and P^re Besson was quite right as to his mother's intense feeling on this occasion : she shared to the full all the suspense of the Domi- nicans as to its result, though from a different motive ; her uppermost thought, poor woman ! being that if the Order were once established in France, her son would return thither, and she might once more enjoy the blessing of living near him. Her excitement was so great that she did not venture into Notre-Dame, but kept walking about outside, listening whether there seemed to be any stir or commotion within. And when the bold measure of Lacordaire's return to France as a monk proved successful, no one was more delighted than Madame Besson. Her ardent wish for her son's return to France was not yet gratified, however, though some of the brethren from Bosco were sent there early in 1844, and she was not a little disappointed. Pbre Besson was alive to this, and on June 9 he wrote, — ..." I feel how hard it is for you to be alone in your old age. Poor mother! I am the cause of a heavy cross being laid on you, just when, according to the natural order of things, I ought to be lightening the burden of your latter days. Would that I could bear all the pain instead of you ! Dear, good mother ! the only thing which gives me the least care in this world, is the great sacrifice you have had to make. I know none could be greater; and when I think of all that you have borne for me, and are bearing to the end, my heart is grieved, and I long to take all that is sharp and bitter for myself, and give you nothing but peace and joy. . . Our dear Lord has dealt so differently with us : your life has been full of sorrows and scant joys, while, on the contrary, I have scarcely known any trouble. When I think of this, I am afraid, for I know that it is the sign of His chosen ones to bear the Cross with Christ, and that I ought to atone for all the misuse I have made of God's gifts. Dear mother, join me, if you will, in the prayer I often make to Jesus Christ that He would grant me to share His. Sufferings here, so that, as we say in the Angelus Collect, I may, * by His Cross and Passion, be brought to the Glory of His Resurrection.' — I do not know when I shall return to France ; some of our brethren are there already, but I am still left here — a proof of our good Father's confidence in me, more perhaps than I deserve. If any thing could make me wish to return home, it would be the pleasure which I know it would be to you to feel me nearer to you. But you see we must be patient, and submit to God's Will. I need a great deal of study yet, for I am very ignorant, and good for very little. My work here just suits me, and, but for you, I really should wish for no change. Do believe that God's Providence orders all for the best, although we cannot see the reason — let us I I I A DOMINICAN ARTIST give ourselves up to His guidance with unquestioning trust. The time will come — and that at no such very distant period — when we shall reap the reward of perfect trust Dearest mother, take courage ! I have a full hope that God will comfort you, and grant your wish that we should embrace one another yet again in this world — only I cannot say when it will be ; we must leave that to Him." Poor Madame Besson found it hard to wait as patiently as her son required for her consolation, and when she found that Pere Lacordaire had actually re- called some of his French Dominicans, among whom the only one she cared for was not included, her mother's heart waxed wrath, and, disregarding the necessity of considering the welfare of the Order before any private matters, she expressed not a little displeasure towards ^^ Monsieur Lacordaire," as she called the good Father, in her anger. Yet all the while (M. Cartier, her devoted friend, tells us) she could be led to change her tone, if any one would begin to blame her son for having been led away by Lacordaire. Sooner than allow a word to be said against him, she would forthwith protest that he had entered religion with her fullest consent, and that she was thankful to have him under so holy a man as Lacordaire. When Pere Besson knew how strongly his mother felt in this matter, he wrote as follows : — A DOMINICAN ARTIST 97 "Bosco, August iWty 1844. ..." One of our brothers writes me word that you are very much troubled at my prolonged stay in Italy. Do not grieve about it, poor dear mother. I quite understand how when other brethren return to France it makes you long that I should come back, but you must bear with this trial a little longer. I am here, because it is God's Will, and that makes my exile, if it is to be called an exile, easy to bear,— let it also lighten your natural regret at the distance between us. It was absolutely necessary that some one should stay here to represent Pere Lacordaire, and take his place in the French novitiate; and as I am both a priest and a theological student, I was selected for the duty. In fact, while prosecuting my own studies, I also fulfil the easy office of Sub-Master of novices, being called upon to direct persons who are worth a great deal more than I am, and who are a perpetual source of edifica- tion to me. As all our other Fathers are employed in France, as confessors and preachers, we do not know how long our novitiate will have to continue here ; circumstances, which are God's means of bring- ing about His chosen ends, can alone decide. Any- how, except that I am grieved that you should be troubled, I am quite content, and have neither wish nor anxiety as to the future. That is one great bless- ing of the religious life ; for having renounced the H II II k 98 A DOMINICAN ARTIST whole world for Jesus Christ's Sak3, we have nothing to do, come what may, but spread our sails in con- fidence, and trust the ship to God's Providence. \\ ith Him for our pilot, we are sure to reach the port safely. So be of good cheer, my dear mother; perhaps God may grant us the happiness of meeting again sooner than we expect, though it may indeed be longer. What is the good of reckoning so much upon the future, when we know not what a day may brmg forth ? Let us leave all our fears and hopes, our sorrows and joys in our Saviour's Breast, hiding ourselves, as David says' under the shadow of His Wings, knowing that His Holy Will is all Love and Goodness. I am not preaching for your sake only, dearest mother, but still more to myself, because though I know the truth of all I say, I do not always reahze it sufficiently. The world passes away, and its trifles ;-we all know it, and yet how little we do to obtain^ a true spirit of detachment. Adieu, dearest mother." But the mother was hard to console ; each letter is full of the same words, a mingling of the son's tender respectful love, with the Priest's affectionate admonition. " Love me as your child," he says, " but still more as the offering which you have brought to God's Altar. It is but a poor offering in truth, but it is the widow's mite, you have given all you had, all that is dearest to you in this world." * f A DOMINICAN ARTIST 99 And again, " Poor mother, I am indeed a son of sorrow to you ! But while you weep over me, recall- ing all that I have cost you, and do cost you still, offer me up at the Feet of Jesus as your daily sacrifice ; and in so doing, you will find the strength and courage you need. Like the poor widow of the Gospel, you have given ' all the living you had,' for, little as I am worth, I am your child, your hope, the natural prop of your old age j and all this you have given up as an offering to Jesus Christ when you let me go to Him. Your store is now with Him, and He will both use it, and restore it with usury, when the Great Day comes. . . In Him we can hope and love on, for we know that if we remain united to Him we shall meet to part no more. Nothing of holy and pure earthly love but will abide, and be continued in Heaven, purified and raised by His transforming glory. There friend will love friend, the mother her child, the son his mother — and amid the overflowing joy which will fill every heart, all will love each other with a boundless, end- less love. " Blessed are they who now sow in tears, for they shall reap in joy. . . O dearest mother, we are in- deed happy in the knowledge of whence we came, and whither we go, and, by God's Grace, we know the vanity of all perishing things. Let us duly weigh the greatness of our blessing, let us know Jesus Christ, H 2 100 A DOMINICAN ARTIST love Jesus Christ, be wholly His ! He is wholly ours, it is but just that we should be His. Ask this grace for me, as I ask it daily for you. " Pbre Lacordaire tells me that he thinks of sending me back to France this year. I leave all in his hands, as in those of God, concerning this matter. But above all else which makes me rejoice in the thought of returning to our country, comes the certainty of your happiness. I enjoy it already in anticipation, asking our Dear Lord to give us both grace to wait with patience and resignation for the perfect fulfilment of His Will We say it daily in the ' Our Father,' let us henceforth say it with this special intention. "How soon the days which now seem long and wearisome, become a thing of the past ! and the day still afar off, will soon be past too ; each night is the knell of another day, gone to the reckoning of the past, which together form the chain held in God's Hand Every thing passes away, and passes so quickly ! It is fifteen years since the July Revolution, and although that seems but as yesterday, here I am in my trdrtieth year 1" • CHAPTER IV Pfere Besson at Chalais— Visit firom his Mother — ^Letters — ^Death of his Mother — Letters — Pere Besson goes to Paris. THE Pbre Besson's belief that God's Good Pro- vidence would restore him before long to his country, was not mistaken. The first Dominican settlement in France at Nancy was placed under the care of Pbre Jandel, who was summoned from Bosco to take charge of the small community in the summer of 1843 ; and having gained this point, P^re Lacor- daire's next object was to find a suitable spot wherein to install his little company of brothers still at Bosco, as they were now sufficiently numerous to begin an independent novitiate— which could not be formed without a certain number in the community. While preaching at Grenoble in 1844, he visited the deserted Convent of Notre Dame de Chalais, which had be- longed to the Grande Chartreuse, and had been used by the Carthusians as a refuge for their weak and aged 102 A DOMINICAN ARTIS7 brethren. Its position is singularly beautiful, and Lacordaire was so delighted with the whole thing — the old Convent and its cemetery, the Romanesque church surrounded with trees and overhung with rocks, and the glorious view over plain and valley, bounded by blue mountains — that he determined, if possible, to restore the Convent to its original purpose ; and accord- ingly, not without some difficulty, and strenuous oppo- sition from the secular authorities, through which Mgr. de Bouillard, Bishop of Grenoble, was his staunch friend, he bought it Early in April, 1845, ^^ went there. "The Church," he says, "has a religious beauty of its own, in its noble simplicity, choir, altar, painted glass and all, and I rejoice to feel that at last we have a real Church — one that has been deserted for fifty years, in its mountain solitude, and now once more restored to God's service. I was very uneasy as to how I was to pay for Chalais, and now the publication of my Conferences brings in 24,000 f. in the course of four months, not to be paid immediately, but certain. What a providential thing ! But do not speak of this, or it will be supposed that we roll in riches, which God knows is not the case ! We shall be able by and by to live very economically at Chalais, but at present the necessary repairs will cost a great deal ; it will be several years before we shall be able to finish them. We have six cows and three or four calves, but these » i A DOMINICAN ARTIST 103 petitsfrlres allow us to have milk, butter, and cheese. We have sown corn, oats, colza, potatoes— hay and wood we have in plenty, and even bee-hives ! Oh, you must come and see Chalais !" As soon as the General of the Order had authorized the establishment of a Dominican novitiate in France, Lacordaire appointed the Pbre Besson Master of the novices, writing to him in the following terms :— " I know this will be a heavy burden upon you, my dear friend, but you will receive it as laid upon you by our Lord in behalf of His Church. Let me urge upon you, my dear son, great gentleness with the Brothers, and respect towards the Fathers. Avoid too much self- assertion in your intercourse with them j strive to tole- rate and enter into other men's opinions ; be all things to all men, so as to render the yoke of obedience light. Firmness is a necessary element of government, but so are flexibility, patience, and tenderness^" Pbre Besson's first letter from Chalais to his mother was full of quiet happiness at being once more in France, and of his enjoyment of the place, of his work, and of all around him. He proposed that M. Cartier should bring Madame Besson to see him. " If we have fine weather while you are here, I think you will appreciate this charming place, with which I can find no fault save that it is too beautiful and too delightful, } Viet ii. 22. I 104 A DOMINICAN' ARTIST though indeed I know that the beauty of our scenery will not be your first consideration ! " ^ladame Besson and M. Cartier lost no time in journeying to Chalais, arriving at Voreppe (a little town at the foot of the Val Gresivaudan, one of the loveliest valleys in France) just as the sun was rising. "We started at once along the mountain paths which lead to Chalais," says M. Cartier, " without any idea which was the right way, or any fear of losing ourselves. Pere Besson had set out before daylight to meet us, and we had not got farther than the churchyard wall when we saw his dear form coming through a little pine wood. His mother almost broke down, but she was soon held tightly in her son's arms. Silence and tears at first were the only possible expression of so much happiness. We sat down a while to gain com- posure, and then followed the mountain ascent, all unconscious of fatigue." There is something very touching in the warm welcome given by the Dominicans to Madame Besson, as though they appreciated the sacrifice the widowed mother was making in their behalf. " They treated her as if she had been the mother of all." That was a happy fortnight ; the visitors spent the day, and had their meals, at Chalais, joining in the recreation hours often passed beneath the noble woods which surround the Convent, and sharing in all the hopes and aspira- A DOMINICAN ARTIST 105 tions of the Brotherhood. One of the monks took a portrait of Pere Besson for his mother, and during the intervals of sitting the former artist used to take his brother's palette, and thus painted a beautiful little picture of the meeting of S. Dominic and S. Francis, now in the possession of the Comtesse de Mesnard. It was the first time he had taken up a brush since his profession, and he felt the inspirations of art so power- fully attractive, that he was half regretful at having exposed himself to the temptation. Madame Besson slept at a somewhat distant farm- house, and every evening her son and his friend used to take her there, returning in the July twilight, and enjoying this rare opportunity of intercourse, all of which turned upon the subjects both had nearest at heart — the Church generally, the Dominican Order in particular. But all earthly bright days must set, and the hour of separation came only too soon. Madame Besson, however, had seen her child once more, and realized for herself that he was happy, and she had nothing more to ask. She returned to Paris, where with M. Cartier she occupied an apartment belonging to the Carmelite Convent, No. 89, Rue Vaugirard, taken on purpose that it might be the rest- ing-place of such Dominicans as should visit Paris. It was God's Will that she should never more see her son on earth, but the knowledge that each was gazing io6 A DOMINICAN ARTIST on the face so dearly loved for the last time was spared them, and the P^re Besson wrote cheerfully of the happy meeting. " Are you quite rested after all your fatigue on our mountains, dear mother ? It was really hard work at your age ; all the same, I hope that the change of air will have done you good, and that, together with the great enjoyment we have both had during this short, happy fortnight, will tend to improve your health, and confirm your mind in peace and quietness. You have seen with your own eyes how the Saviour fulfils His promise of rendering a hundredfold, even in this life, to those who forsake all to follow Him. Everlasting: life is before us, we hope through His mercy, but the * hundredfold,* as you have seen, we enjoy already. What are all the poor trifles we have left, compared to the peace, the happiness of dwelling in His courts ? If there was any thing to complain of it would be that our lot' is too easy, so that we might almost fear having our good things in this life. The only real sacrifice is separation from relations and friends, for a while it seems as though we had really lost them, and yet * but a little while,' and we find them again for ever in the Bosom of our Lord. Oh, if one could but make people realize all the blessedness which there is in suffering for Jesus* Sake, how much balm and honey there is in that seemingly bitter cup, surely A DOMINICAN ARTIST 107 all men would come to Him Who is meek and lowly of heart, and Who can give rest to the weary soul, and heal the broken heart ! His burden is indeed light, for He supports those who carry it ; His yoke is easy, and those who bear it are the freest of all men. Those who only stand without and gaze upon the Cross, see nought save our Lord's cruel, bleeding wounds ; but if we do but enter in through the pre- cious wound of His Heart we shall not be long in perceiving the ineffable sweetness of that mystery, we shall understand all that is summed up in those words, to love and to suffer. Good-bye, dearest mother, I have no time for more to-day. All the novices are well and happy, indeed we are all that; would to God that the many poor suffering hearts throughout the world were as happy ! " The P^re Besson was devoted to his novices, and gave himself up to them, it might be said, day and night. His rule was one of extreme gendeness, and at all times he was anxious to impress upon those under his direction that austerity was but a means to perfection, not perfection itself. "When you are tired," he said to some of his spiritual children at a later period, " give yourself some rest, and never wait till you are driven to extremity. Health is soon de- stroyed by persisting in a manner of life which all the while may not be really severe. No doubt great saints I Vi loS A DOMINICAN" ARTIST A DOMINICAN ARTIST 109 have done with very little sleep ; but then great saints have a superabundant grace which enables them to do what we cannot. S. Dominic used to pass whole nights in chapel; but it is reported, too, that he sometimes fell asleep in the refectory! When I began my novitiate, I was wild about mortification; I had the greatest possible enthusiasm for the life led by the Desert Fathers, which was very attractive to my temperament. So I used to get up in the night to pray before the Blessed Sacrament ; — I got up at two o'clock, and did not go to bed again after matins. What was the consequence ? Why, I used to fall asleep during my meditation ! Then I took to making that in a long corridor at Bosco, walking up and down to keep myself awake, instead of which I used to knock my head against the wall like a tipsy man. I persisted in trying to do without sleep, and I became almost idiotic ; — I had not proper command over my faculties ! No, our Good God has not framed us as we are framed, that we should injure our con- stitutions by depriving ourselves of sleep, or by any similar excesses : — He created us in order that w^e might love Him with all our heart. Insufficient sleep is one of the most dangerous of all austerities, because it is insidious — there is nothing very alanning in it, but all the same it is ruin to the souFs strength." To another, he says, " In your present state of health, I cannot allow you to think of bodily austeri- ties. Just now your mortification must be in obedience to your doctor, and submission to your parents. You may rest satisfied that you will lose nothing by this ; nor will your penitential spirit grow less in conse- quence of such indulgence, if used properiy. Strive to exercise great self-control, and do not be hard and stiff, or restless. Do what you can do quietly and gently, without fretting about what you are unable to do at present. Make up for all seeming deficiencies by faith and love, and remember that Christian per- fection is simply a perfect love of God and man, all else is no more than the means to this ; and you need not mind about the means if you can attain the end. The Pere Besson's view of what was required of those charged with the direction of novices may be gathered from a playful, and yet very serious letter which he wrote from the East in 1861, to a nun, whom he had known well, on her appointment as Mistress of the novices in her Convent. '' My dear little Sister,— God does all things well, and so here you are, Mistress of the novices in that dear community! You will say that I am very naughty ; but I really am most heartily glad ! After all it is not my fault if I feel sure that the authorities have made a good choice, and I suspect that all your novices w^ould agree with me. Of course I know that \] no A DOMINICAN ARTIST you will never be of this mind ; but you may have what opinion you please, God has willed it so, and there you are ! and since it is by His Will, He will give you all that is needful for the welfare of the souls entrusted to you. Above all, He will give you a mother's heart, so that you may love your children in Him with a holy, tender love, — all the real art of direct- ing souls lies in possessing a holy love for them. God's help will make you gentle, firm, kind, and wise ; He will show you the way to their hearts, especially as they see that yours is ever open to them ; and thus you will easily train them in that loving simplicity which is so acceptable to God, and which makes goodness so attractive to all around. Let the heart be trained before all else ; if that is good and pure, if God is enthroned there, ever present, all the rest will come of itself, and you are sure to do well. All reli- gious perfection lies in a perfect heart, that alone kindles true life, and produces all that is substantially good. All perfection which does not come from this source, is a mere shadow; and your utmost efforts, and your novices' most fervent desires, will go for nothing unless our Lord Himself co-operates with His tender, powerful grace. And you must continually ask His Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Love, the Infinite source of all charity, to help you ; and with such help, dear little Sister, you will achieve what now seems ' A DOMINICAN ARTIST III impossible. While you teach without, our Dear Lord will teach within, and give a divine impetus to all your words. Put all your trust in God — expect every thing you want from Him — you may sow, but He only can give life and growth. Poor little Sister ! it is indeed rather hard upon such a little body to turn suddenly from ^housekeeper into novice mistress ! Well, Providence orders these things very often as we least expect, does He not, my dear little Sister? though to be so little, and yet have to direct great big novices, is no trifle, I am bound to confess ! but I am sure that our Dear Lord will make it all right, by giving great grace to the little Sister, so that all will be well." The notes of an address given to his novices on taking the habit, are among the few written papers (letters excepted) which the P^re Besson has left. It is simple and characteristic. " My dear Brothers, — When this day you ask for our holy habit, you practically ask for the Cross of Jesus Christ, His poverty. His humiliations. His labours and sufferings,— for those, as you well know, are the sacred heritage the Bridegroom has left us. If you accept these, come and be our brethren. We will work with one aim, and mingle our hearts in one Love. Come among us, and behold. We are neither numerous nor powerful; but rather we are weak as 112 A DOMINICAN' ARTIST A DOMINICAN ARTIST "3 new-bom babes, and devoid of all which, humanly speaking, gives stability and strength. We are but a little flock, slowly moving on towards a mysterious future by an uncertain and stormy light. We know not what our destiny may be. We only know that none who trust in the Name of Jesus can perish. That All-powerful Name is written in our hearts, and on our brows, and though of ourselves a breath of wind might sweep us away, through It we dare and hope all things. " The nations of the earth are disturbed, all crea- tion is moved ; infidelity has shaken the world to its centres, and as we gaze on the manifold sufferings around us, we turn to Calvary, to the Cross, and in it we see a bright star of hope, whence we gather cou- rage to believe that all this suffering is but as the travail pangs whence the Kingdom of Christ shall arise, and the triumph of His Church — Behold, the Bridegroom cometh ! "Then we, soldiers of Jesus Christ, draw more closely beneath the sheltering wings of our Mother the Church, and pressing His Cross to our hearts, we accept the stamp of His sacred Wounds. We cry aloud to our distant brethren, Come, in the Saviour's Name, Come. Let us mingle our toils and our blood in healing the deadly wounds before us. Let us put on the strong armour of Christ. Let us go forth, and preach Him every where; let us kindle the world with the fire of His Love, and fill it with our sacrifices. Let us glory in the foolishness of the Cross ; let us set before the world a sight which, old as it is, yet seems ever new, till no sorrow, no pain, be found on earth, for which we have not a tender, ready compassion. Let us go forth, fearing nothing ; we are victims, and as such, we ask no better than to fall beneath the sacrificial knife. This is what we say to our brethren, this is what to-day we say to you whom the Lord has guided hither. " Would you look into the future ? would you know what lies before us ? Wlierefore ? The Lord says to us, as of old to His Apostles, ' In the world ye shall have tribulation ; but be of good cheer, I have over- come the world.* Yes, assuredly we all have to suffer; but what of that ? May we not count ourselves happy if, through suffering and death, we can in any degree glorify God ? or shall we draw back if we are called to tread in the bleeding Footsteps of Jesus Christ, before we enter into the blessedness of His saints ? Let us cast aside all fearfulness, and throw ourselves heartily into His open Arms ; our only thought how to love and serve Him daily better. Let us leave all that concerns ourselves to Him — whether He lift us up or cast us down, all one to us. * Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him.' "But it is not enough merely to cast away fear, when "4 A DOMINICAN ARTIST you draw near to the holy Altar ; you must seek, my brethren, to bring hearts filled with a confidence which cannot be shaken. Jesus, our Saviour, over- came the world, and He overcame it even as you are now overcoming it — by offering Himself for it. Self- sacrifice is a mighty cry going up from earth to Heaven, it is that * Bread of the strong' which was the daily food of Jesus, and with which He feeds His chosen ones. " How was it with the holy men of old, confessors, doctors, hermits, virgins, martyrs, with the Apostles themselves? What did they do for the saving of souls, the conversion of nations, the confirmation of the Faith ? You know well — the whole world knows — how they endured hunger and thirst, nakedness, toil, privation, persecution. The prison, the desert, the scaffold — such was their portion; but their work abides, and will abide for ever. "Weigh it well. Brethren; God accepts you as favoured children. He marks you with His own seal and stamp. When He admits you this day to carry the Cross of Christ, receive it gladly, cherish it fondly, and during this short year of probation which is before you, clasp it firmly to your heart, seek your wisdom and strength in it. You will find sweetness beneath the sharpness, and you will learn to cry out with the Apostle, * I am exceeding joyful in all our tribula- tion ' " (2 Cor. vii. 4). A DOMINICAN ARTIST "5 C Besides his conventual duties, the P^re Besson was now frequently sent out to preach and give retreats, and he was also much occupied as a confessor. On the 28th April, he wrote to his mother apologizing for an unusually long silence, caused by his work. " And now you see I have taken the biggest sheet of paper I can find, because I know how mothers like long letters ! . . . . During Eastertide I was very busy; and, indeed, now I have not much time to spare. In spite of bad weather and our mountain heights, a great many people came here for con- fession, so that we often had to spend seven or eight hours a day in the Confessional — which, after all, is little enough compared to the work of parish priests at this season, but that added to our conventual exer- cises, and my charge of the novices, left me little leisure. Then, too, I had to preach the Passion on Maundy Thursday ^ at Voreppe ; by God's Grace I 2 In many parts of France it is usual to preach the Passion at a very early hour on Good Friday morning, which is probably what Pere Besson means. Few things can be more solemnly impressive than this service ; the sermon being usually little more than a vivid setting forth of the Passion, often preached to a dense mass of people, among whom men are usually the most numerous ; beginning, perhaps, long before the dawn of day, which only creeps in — cold and chilly, — upon the wrapt listeners — towards the conclusion of the long discourse, showing the bare, stripped altar, and the empty tabernacle, whence the Blessed Sacrament was taken on Maundy Thursday. I 2 ii6 A DOMINICAN ARTIST was able to do it, and spoke for two hours, so as to be heard, without being unusually tired afterwards. I tell you this to prove that I am well, and stronger than I look, though I am not going to boast of my strength, or indeed of any thing. We are overrun with workmen now, and smothered with brick and mortar, trying, if possible, to get the most important part of the works done by the time P^re Lacordaire comes, that is, on the 4th May. Every one is well, and no one has suffered from the Lenten fast ; our meadows are covered with flowers; — there is still some snow on the top of the mountains, but it is scarcely visible, and the little there is serves as a pleasant contrast which enhances the delight of fine weather; and for your satisfaction, let me add that I am both happy and really well. We have good tidings of the brothers at Nancy. P^re Jandel was ailing, but is better. He has had a great deal of extra fatigue this Lent; but God has given him strength. Pbre Danzas, too, is well — ^he has been preaching a Retreat in preparation for Easter, near Nancy ; that is all our news. . . . Now as to your- self—How are you? what are you doing? are you calm and happy, or sad ? Sometimes one, and some- times the other ; is not that the truth, dear mother ? and perhaps more often sad than glad. You think about your child, and say to yourself, ' If he were but A DOMINICAN ARTIST 117 here ! What is he about ? perhaps he is ill. Why is he so long without writing? and a hundred other things which rise up in a mother's heart ; and then come the tears ! Well, I suppose it must be so, and that God is not displeased by such tears, especially when offered up to Him. He Himself shed tears over His friend Lazarus, to teach us that He would not condemn, but sanctify our grief. He wills us to love Him above all — and that is but just, since He is more worthy of love than all else, and all we have comes from Him. But He would also have us love one another, and that very dearly — even as He has loved us ; and little as we can understand it, we know, nevertheless, how much He loves us : His pierced Hands and Feet, His wounded Side are for ever telling us this, and will tell us through all eter- nity. Alas for the many sorrowful hearts which are for ever wearily seeking after happiness, not knowing that it is to be found only in Love ! Dearest mother, if we did but know how really to love God, and how to love one another in Him, we should be perfectly happy. .... But why should I go on saying all this to you ? in truth I have been rather preaching to my- self than to you. I have long been saying that I want to love God ; but all the time I have not acted up to what I said, and have given my love to less worthy objects; yet all the while I know that this one Love, Ii8 A DOMINICAN ARTIST / / which includes all other love, is the one joy whiclj in- cludes all other joys. Because we are religious, we are supposed to be saints : we ought to be such, or at all events we ought to be striving earnestly to become saints ; but we shall not be sanctified by what other men think of us. As S. Francis used to say, what we are in God's Eyes, that are we, and nothing more. The habit and tonsure are worth little, or less than nothing, if our hearts are not clothed with purity and detached from the love of this world's vanities. What will it avail us to leave the world with our body only, if the world still lives in our hearts, and we cannot detach ourselves from self? How much need we have to dread the good opinion of men, and what a burden their trust in us lays upon our weakness ! A peasant who was journeying with S. Francis of Assisi, said, as they went, * If you are this Brother Francis of whom such wonders are told, take heed that you are not a deceiver, but that you are in the Eyes of God what you seem to those of men.' It is said that S. Francis fell at his feet, and embraced them, so joy- ful was he to hear such words of truth ; and though perhaps S. Francis did not need the lesson, other men do. Worthless as we may be, we are always tempted, each in our own little sphere, to believe our- selves of some consequence. Well for those who are saved by the world's rebuffs or neglect, from pride A DOMINICAN ARTIST \, 1^9 and self-satisfaction. We shrink from this salutary grace, and yet it really is a grace, inasmuch as humi- lity is the essential foundation of all true Christian life. When our Saviour Jesus * gave His Back to the ^miters, and His Cheeks to them which plucked off the hair,' it was not alone as an expiation for our pride, but also an important lesson for all who would follow Him. The result of all this, dear mother, is, that you must pray earnestly for your son, and that all the more as he may be thought not to need prayers. S. Paul's words will remain to the end of time as a warn- ing to all who are placed in authority over others, to guide and teach, ' I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection: lest that by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be \ castaway.' After that what are such as we to think or fear for ourselves. Many a time when I meditate on Para- dise, I think how different our relative positions there will be. How many of high estate here, will be low down there, while others who have been last and least here, will take the first place there." The Pere Besson's allusions to his own health arose from the anxiety his mother felt at his spending the winter in a place so much colder than he had ever been accustomed to. In fact he suffered considerably from the cold, used as he had been for long to the more genial sky of Italy. And though he never com- 120 A DOMINICAN ARTIST A DOMINICAN ARTIST 121 I I PI F I plained, he was sometimes livid and almost paralyzed with cold, so that the Prior was obliged to order him to go to the fire *' to thaw himself." At this time he had begun to draw again in recreation hours, with a view to the embellishment of the church at Chalais. Some of the brothers there were more skilful in wield- ing the brush than in preaching, and Pere Besson was anxious to turn their talents to account in decorating the church. Sometimes, too, he sent very exquisite little sketches to his mother and friends ; the fear lest love of art should lure him from his higher love seems to have passed away as that love ripened. The last letter which we have addressed to his mother is dated May 27, 1843. He writes in glowing language of the love we all should bear to the Blessed Sacra- ment, of Pere Lacordaire's return after a long absence to Chalais, of the exquisite spring beauty surrounding him, the flowers which covered the fields, above all the lovely narcissus ; closing with a few earnest words as usual, and an entreaty for his mother's prayers, as well as those of some ladies with whom she was inti- mate, and "who must, I am sure, be very near God's Heart, from all you have told me of their sufferings." Pere Besson's numerous duties did not allow of his writing very frequently, and this was probably the last letter he wrote to that much-loved mother. She had said, after seeing him at Chalais, that she could die \ content, and now God was about to close her time of watching and waiting, and to take her to her rest. On July ist Madame Besson was seized with cholera, and M. Cartier, who was fully alive to the danger, wrote at once to Pbre Lacordaire, entreating him to send her son at once to her. The communication between Chalais and Paris was not then as rapid as it is now, and even had the Pere Besson's duties as Master of the novices allowed of his immediate de- parture, he could not have arrived in time to see his mother alive. Her illness was very brief; she her- self felt sure it would be fatal from the first, and lost no time in preparing for death. P^re Lavigne, her Confessor, gave her the last Sacraments, and she re- tained perfect consciousness and calmness throughout, talking constantly of God's Love, and of her son, fol- lowing his daily occupations in thought from hour to hour ; and when the last moment came, she passed away without suffering, embracing her crucifix, and gazing on her son's portrait, as though realizing that he who had been the source of deepest sacrifice to her, would also be the source of an abundant reward. " Crux mea. Lux mea." On July 9th the Pbre Besson wrote thus to M. Cartier : — " My dear Brother, — Perhaps this will be too late, and if it be so, may God's holy Will be done. Per- 122 A DOMINICAN ARTIST haps I have by this time lost the only earthly treasure He had left me, that tender mother whom He so graciously gave me. Nor can I grieve if He has per- mitted her to fall asleep on His Breast ; rather I would bless Him for it, however sore the aching of my heart is at this moment. Ever since I left her, I have asked but one thing, that He would fill her with His own peace, and take her to His own Almighty Arms. Poor dear mother, if it is not too late, dearest brother, be to her more even than I could be, give her a son's last kiss for me, and tell her that I do not cease to cHng to the Feet of Jesus in prayer for her. Duty keeps me here, but my whole heart is at her bedside, sharing every pain she has to bear. Hold up before her the Precious Wounds of her Saviour, His pierced Heart, pierced with a more than earthly love for her. Bid her in this last most solemn moment of her life offer the sacrifice of my absence, as the crowning point of the complete surrender she has already made of all that was dearest to her. To-morrow I will offer the Blessed Sacrifice for her. Write directly ; you know how I shall long for further tidings. O my dearest mother, I clasp you in a last embrace on the Heart of Jesus Christ, in His Bleeding Wounds." Before this letter reached Paris, the mother's heart was at rest, and she was laid in her grave ; her burial was attended by a large gathering of friends of LaoDr- A DOMINICAN ARTIST 123 % I daire and the restored Dominican Order. Madame Besson had been loved for her own sake, her gentle, unassuming goodness, and unselfish piety, — and there were many who knew how to appreciate the sacrifice she had made to the Order, in giving up her only son to it. Pbre Besson's grief was simple and loving, and as he said, almost a rejoicing sorrow. On July 14th he wrote to Pbre Danzas. "My very dear Brother, — I thank you and dear P^re Jandel with all my heart for your kind letters, comforting me under the loss of my mother. I am now altogether without earthly ties, and like S. Francis I may say in every sense, " Our Father Which art in Heaven." In truth, dear brother, the Lord has laid His Hand heavily upon me, in taking away that dear mother, whom I loved perhaps overmuch, but He has upheld me the while, and my sorrow has not been un- mixed with joy ; my heart has been filled with loving hope, and even while I wept, it was with a deep mys- terious sense of inward calm and peace and happiness. I feel that my mother is nearer to me now than before ; I can pray for her with a confidence and an inde- finable rest which is more precious to me even than her actual presence. I believe that she sees me, hears me ; I feel that we no longer need words or letters, but that now there is a communion of heart between us which can only be felt, not defined. i 124 A DOMINICAN' ARTIST A DOMINICAN ARTIST 125 "The night after I had received the sad tidings, after saying the Office of the Dead for her, I had laid my- self on my bed. I could not sleep ; but as I lay there in a sort of half trance, I was conscious of such a sweet, delicious, indescribable sensation as I have rarely experienced, a sense of perfect rest and peace, not altogether free from sadness. I suppose it was my Guardian Angel comforting me, and leading me to pray more earnestly. *'I am very grateful to you all for having oflfered the Blessed Sacrifice for her dear soul ; it is the greatest kindness you can do me. Dear brothers, pray for her, and especially that God may forgive her excessive love for me, and that His Precious Blood, our only hope, may purify her soul from all lingering earthly stain." To M. Cartier he wrote, — **yuly 22nd, 1846. . . . "We are both orphans. Our mother has been the first to set forth on that journey. The part- ing has cost me many tears, but they are free from all murmurs or bitterness. I felt that this blow from our Saviour's Hand was rather meant to heal than wound me ; it has stilled the only anxiety which I had, and fulfilled my one remaining wish, that my dearest Mother might die in His Peace, might fall asleep on His Bosom. That is such an infinite and precious grace; from the first moment it was my inexpressible conso- lation. I knew that sooner or later that dear mother must die, and my daily prayer was that she might die in the faith, love, and hope of Jesus. Now He has accepted, granted my prayer ; and I thank the Gracious Father Who hearkens so lovingly to His children's shrinking prayers over and over again. . . I was only anxious that one day during which I knew of my mother's illness. AVhen I heard in the evening that the Lord had taken her, and had given her a blessed end, I wept, but my tears were so peaceful, they were almost a happiness. Sometimes I dwell upon those dear arms which so often carried me, the lap in which, as a child, I loved to nestle, the bosom where I rested, the loving eyes which used to watch me so fondly, and are now closed for ever, the dear white hair, the mouth which spoke such tender words, — • all these cold in death ; and my heart begins to sink ; but a truer thought arises, she, my mother, is not dead. I must seek her in the Bosom of God, her Saviour, and I rise up gladly to find her there ; I pray for her, I ask her prayers, and I feel that she is far nearer than ever she was in this life. O dear brother, how all-powerful the love of Jesus Christ is ! how precious our hope in Him ! Is it not wonderful that this great grief should be my very strength, and that what might seem to be a sorrow past comfort should bring such indefinable peace and consolation ? 126 A DOMINICA AT ARTIST "Madame Bourard and her two daughters are here ; it does so remind me of your visit last summer, every detail of which is fresh in my memory ; but it is a happy, soothing remembrance. AVhen will you come again? when shall I see you, who watched over the last hours of her I loved so dearly? when shall I grasp the kind hand which closed her eyes? I know not, since you cannot come here this year; but, meanwhile, let us meet constantly in the Heart of Jesus. May God bless you, and reward you accord- ing to the greatness of His Love ! that is my daily prayer. Dear friend, I pray, too, that when your mother's last hour comes, she may have as tender, as loving a friend by her pillow, as you have been to mine — to comfort her as you comforted my mother, to be to you what you have been to me. Thank you for sending me my dear mother's crucifix,— it is very precious to me to kiss it, and feel as though I were once more kissing her who pressed it to her dying lips. Farewell, kind brother ! Pray thank all the friends who ministered to my mother in her last hours. I know them not, but God knows them, and I pray Him to reward them out of the treasures of His Love. Once more, farewell ! May our Dear Lord have you always in His Holy Keeping." As soon as it was practicable, Pere Lacordaire sent Pere Besson to Paris to see M. Cartier, to hear from 1» ' ^^Ji X ■«IX III » J« A DOMINICAN ARTIST 127 his lips all the details on which affection delights to linger, and to visit her grave. His arrival was unex- pected. " I found him in my house, one evening, on my return from bestowing some last attentions upon his mother's grave. Next morning, very early, we went there together. As soon as we reached the spot where his mother's body waits its joyful Resurrection, Pbre Besson sprang over the little inclosure, and threw himself down upon the earth which covered her whom he loved so well. He remained there some time motionless, — his thoughts and prayers known only to her blessed spirit, and to the Angels. After a while he got up, and threw himself into my arms, and we wept together. Then we went home together, imable to say a word." P^re Besson remained a week at Paris, during which time he saw many old friends, and presided at a gathering of Sisters of the Third Order, to whom he spoke of his mother in the most touching manner. Then, " with nerves new braced and set," he returned to his post at Chalais, announcing his arrival there to M. Cartier as follows : — *^ September 11 //5, 1846. ..." How thankful I am for those few days we have had together ! Short as they were, they are enough to fill me with calm gladness, their peaceful influence abides with me ; indeed I seem more able 128 A DOMINICAN ARTIST to enjoy the unexpected comfort which God granted us, now that I am again in the peace and silence of our mountain retreat, than while we were actually together. God knows whether we shall ever meet again. All that I leave to His good Providence, which orders all things so wisely for us; but sup- posing we never meet again in this life, that week of affectionate intercourse over our dear mother's grave will serve to brighten and refresh such weary days or years as may yet be our portion. Hence- forth, our meeting-place must be the Sacred Heart of Jesus Christ through prayer ; and there, too, we shall meet that dear mother — not in her grave, but living and bright, as I fondly believe. Meanwhile, let us both strive to sanctify our lives by following the lead- ings of God's Grace whithersoever He wills ; let us remember that He grants such intervals of blessed- ness in order that we may gain fresh strength to offer ourselves up for His service. The Transfiguration on Mount Tabor was a preparation for the Cross of Calvary. Let us dwell stedfastly on this truth. S. John leant upon his Dear Master's Breast at the Last Supper ; but it was in order that he might follow on to Golgotha ; and as he shared the joys of friendship, so did he share the bitterness of his Friend's Suffer- ings. Do not be long without writing to me, my very dear brother j remember how my poor heart clings to i>wiw>i>i^^i|*<^w A DOMINICAN ARTIST 129 you. How much I owe you, and what a comfort it is to tell you so sometimes !" Just before All Saints' Day Pere Besson wrote again. " How can I write at this special season without dwelling on the uppermost thought of my heart ! My dearest mother, who was as yours too, I think con- tinually of her, and yet I sometimes reproach myself because I do not dwell more upon her memory. . . . What mother in the whole world ever did more for her child than mine for me ? who ever loved better or suffered more, who ever gave herself up more entirely for a son, than the dear mother I have lost ? and how the thought of her should kindle me to exertion, how it rebukes me for my indolence and carelessness in my duties ! I ask myself, * Was it for this that you laid such a sacrifice upon her? was it for no more earnest a life than you now lead that you left her for ever, pleading that you must needs follow God's call ? She consented to give you up, you who were her very life, to promote God's Glory, she accepted her portion of loneliness and tears, she died daily to her warmest affections, her strongest love, she even ac- cepted the deprivation at her last hour of her son's presence. All this she bore in order to give you to God, that you might live for His Service and that of His Church, and now — ^wretch that you are, selfish, ungrateful, forgetful man — you are living for your- I30 A DOMINICAN ARTIST self! You can use fine words indeed, but what are your inmost feelings ? Is not your heart full of vain wishes, and mere wilfulness, rather than of' the true spirit of self-sacrifice ? When the day comes, and it cannot be very far off, in which you will pass through the gates of death, and appear before your Saviour, and meet her again, how will you be able to meet her gaze ? AVill she not ask whether all her tears, her self- denial, her lonely death, could do no more than this ?' Such thoughts as these beset me often. I have entered upon a holy way of life, but I do not live holily there- in ; I do not grow in grace, — through my fault, my own most grievous fault. If any human being could see me as God sees me, as I see myself, he would indeed pity me for having made so little use of the num- berless mercies I have received, and do receive daily in my sacred calling. I am happy in being the object of so much grace, but in truth I deplore my own in- gratitude deeply." On the anniversary of Madame Besson's death, M. Cartier sent her son a flower gathered from her grave. "I thank you from the bottom of my heart," he answers, " for the little flower ; I have laid it at the foot of my Crucifix. How many things it recalls, and what a touching symbol of resurrection the flowers which grow upon the graves we love are ! Dearest mother, how many tears she has shed for me ! I A DOMINICAN ARTIST 131 cannot tell you how great a comfort it is that you watch over her grave. I cannot think of her without thinking of you. I wished to write to you that very day, just when you were writing to me, for I knew that our hearts were full of the same thoughts, and it would have been a relief to share them. Let come what may, nothing can ever loosen the bonds which unite us. However far apart, we are bound together through my dear mother. How mighty a power death is, and how its touch consecrates all around ! It is through that power that our hearts are knit together for ever ; you in the world, I in the cloister; wherever we may be, scattered east or west, we can always re- member confidently that each has a brother who loves and prays for him." * K 2 CHAPTER V Nancy— M. de Beaussant— Pere Besson preaching Retreats at Langres— Revolution of 1848— Chalais— He becomes Prior of Nancy. IT has been said already that Chalais was not the first Dominican home in France. Pbre Lacor- daire had taken Lorraine by storm when preaching there in 1842 and 1843; ^^^ Bishop of Nancy be- friended him, and a valuable theological library was offered him for the convent he hoped to establish in the diocese. Accordingly he was contemplating a settlement at Luneville, when God's Providence decided otherwise, and Nancy became the scene of his first convent, where accordingly the Pbre Besson's copy of the Madonna della Quercia found its home. The circumstances which led to this were somewhat remarkable. A well-bom, wealthy inhabitant of Nancy, M. Thiery de Saint Beaussant by name, was leading a life of mere luxury and self-indulgence, A DOMINIQ^N ARTIST J33 moral and intellectual, when one evening, happening to be in Marseilles, a violent storm made him seek shelter in a church, where at that moment a priest was speaking to his flock of that search after happi- ness common to all men, a search which, he said, could nowhere be effectual save when it reached to God, and His holy religion. Perhaps the sermon— which apparently was nothing special as to eloquence or novelty— made no extraordinary impression upon the general congregation, but to use Pbre Lacor- daire's own words, " Wlienever God touches a sinner, let the touch of His Hand be ever so light on head or heart, that sinner is forthwith converted." M. de Saint Beaussant felt that gracious touch, and he returned to Nancy an altered man ; fi:om that time he gave himself up to good works, and being altogether fascinated by the holiness and eloquence of Pbre Lacordaire, he threw himself into the Father's work, bought and furnished a house for the Order, and, in course of time, himself joined \t\ It was on Whit 1 M. de Beaussant died at the Dominican College of Oullins, where Lacordaire placed the following touching Inscription over his tomb : — HIC DOMINUM EXPECTAT P*. AUGUSTINUS THIERV DE SAINT BEAUSSANT, ORDINIS FRATRUM PRiEDICATORUM, QUI POST MULTOS ULTRA JUVENTUTEM ANNOS IN S^CUH EERORIBUS ET FLORE DUCTOS, 134^ A DOMINICAN ARTIS7 !^ Sunday, 1843, that Pbre Lacordaire took possession of this house. In December, 1846, P^re Lacordaire sent Pere Besson there, in order that he might lead a more active life of preaching than he had hitherto done at Chalais. He had perhaps been an over- indulgent novice-master. "I am not fit for the office,*' he said himself, " I never can reject any one, I always expect people to improve, and it won't do." In a few farewell words, written to his late novices, Pbre Besson expresses his pleasure at hearing that his friend Danzas had succeeded him, adding, " I am all the more glad because I hope that his zeal will undo all the mischief my carelessness has done. If it had been allowed me, I would fain have knelt before you all to ask forgiveness for my negligence, before I left Chalais. The Prior indeed thanked me for the edifi- cation I had caused you, but I felt keenly how little I deserved any thing save blame ; — in truth I have always been indolent and careless : you must all LUCEM ,