A HERO'S ACT OF FAITH.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XIX, Issue 38, 26 June 1891, Page 23

A HERO'S ACT OF FAITH.

(By Wilfrid Wilbkb»orce).

* The facts of the following narrative were related to the writer by Mods. Henri La Serre, the late Vice- President of the Ecole Internationale, an intimate friend of M. l'Abbe Guillemont. The storm of war had just abated. The peace which deprived France of her two provinces was signed, aDd the troops of Germany had once more turned their faces eastward, to enjoy the welcome which awaited them across tb3 Rhine. The town of St. Germain-en-Laye, lately the fashionable suburb where Parisians of the Second Empire found the brightness and gaietj which they loved io the capital, together with the pure air of the country, was now silent and oppressed with gloom. The war, indeed, was over. No more was the silent darkness of the night made noisy and brilliant by the canon of Mont Valerien. No longer diJ the revcil awaken a hostile garrison to carry on the bitter struggle. No longer did proclamatiens, signed by a foreign commander, appear on the bosrding and blank walls of the town. But the horrors which war leaves in its train were present. A terrible scourge of pestilence had fallen upon the place. A disease, as deadly as the German bayonet, and less merciful, had seized upon the unhappy town and held its helpless inhabitants in its grip. The hospital was soon crammed with the sick and the dying. A man might be walking on the Terrace healthy and strong on Monday, and the following Saturday would see him hastily consigned with maimed rites to a leper'a grave. Husbands and fathers whom the war had spared were laid low by a war's ghastly aftermath, and the harvest of death, so abundant during the past winter, was still gathered in, in no gleaner's measure. • *•••• The hospital chaplain was old. His memory coald recall many changes in this country. Monarchy, republic and empire had in torn come and gone. But his only politics were to turn the hearts of men to tbeir father imd their God. In peaceful times nil work at

the hospital was no sinecure. To be ready at any monent, day or night, to hasten to the bedside of the dying; to listen to the long untold tale of sin from the white lips of some man of whom the near approach of death had brought the desire of reconciliation with God ; to comfort, in his closing hours, the Christian who had led a Christian's life ; to fortify all for the laat awful passage from time to eternity — such was the daily task of this devoted priest. But now that the hospital— for so many months filled with the wounded, friend or foe— waß once more crowded, this time with the victims of pestilence, the strength of the old chaplain was inadequate for ihe work ; and the day came when the doctors warned him that a continuance of bis labours would, before long, result in bis death. " That must be as God wills," replied the old man simply. "My post is at the bedside of the sick. So long as I have strength to console them, to exhort them, to lift my hand over them in absolution, so long must 1 stay within call." And so the days passed. ****** The Ecole Internationale had for some yeara bean honourably j known in the town . As its name implies, its pupils came from all parts of the world. Of this school there is no need to speak at length. For the purpose of this narrative it is only necessary to introduce the chaplain. He was young in years, bat in sanctity he might well ba called old. In a short space he had fulfilled a long time. The characters ascribed to men usually differ according to the views and character of the speaker. In this case critics of all schools — Catholics Protestants, Atheists, Voltaireans, Freethinkers, differing in all else, agreed when they spoke of M. L'Abba Guillemont in describing him as a saint. There was no one who, knowing this man, did not love him. His soul, pure aa when it came from God, seemed to look out from his calm and steadfast eyes. " His face is like an angel's,' wai an expression ofter used about him. The poor, of course, were his warmest admirers, for it was among them that he spent the time that was not given to his duties as chaplain at the school. In the Scole Internationale his classes were really enjoyed by the pupils. In the very rare art of catechism giving bis skill was great. He accomplished tte double difficulty of chaining the attention of the boys by interesting their minds and of leading them to God by touching their hearts. The rich whom he edified, the poar whom he tended, the boy» whom he Uught, all love I and venerated the young priest. In the midst of his labours M. Guillemont beard of the warning which the doctor had given to the hospital chaplain and the reply which the old man bad made. " He must have rest," said M. Guillemont to himself, "and I must take Lie place." That very afternoon he called and offered his services. But the task of inducing the old chaplain to leave his field of labour was no easy one. At first he refused to listen to the proposal. But M. Guillemont was in earnest, and with all his eloquence he pleaded with his f ,'llow priest to allow himself some rest, if only for the sake of being able, later on, to return to his work strengthened and refreshed. " You wi'l not leave your patients uncared for. t am young and strong. Wnile you are away, I promise to do all that in me lies to eupply your place. At all hours of the day and night I will be at the call of the sick and dying, and, if it depends on me, God helping me, not one soul Bhallpiss unabsolved to ita Judge." "I do not doubt yoar zeal," replied the old man, " and since indeed I feel mycelf to be all but wora out, I take ie to be God's will that I should leave his vineyard for a time, seeing that He has Bent so excellent a priest to take up my work. After to-morrow, then," he added, when the derails of the change had been settled, " consider yourself the chaplain at the hospital instead of at the school, as d may Our Lord bless and prosper your work." Then two priests parted, never again to meet on earth. As the epidemic was of an extremely contagious nature, it was impossible for one who had to spend several hours each day within the hospital to mix with the boys at the Ecole International. M» Guillemoot's duties at that institution had therefore to be regretfully resigned into other handß. From what has been said above as to the character of this priest and of his mode of life, it will be readily understood that he was no stranger among the patients in the hospital. Sickness indeed spares neither rich nor poor ; but in an epidemic it almost necessarily happens that the poor are chief sufferers ; and the poor were M. Guillemont'B dearest friends. At no time surely is a friend more welcome than when he stands at our sick bed, and many a heart weighed down with the oppression and horror of this hideous disease, must have beat with something like hope when M. Guillemont's bright and holy face appeared in the hospital ward. But there was one patient who received tho chaplain's frequent visit with quite other feelings. His was one case too common, alas I a pious childhood followed by a life of indifference and sin. Hia faith, so long unfed by the grace of tin gacraments and by prayer,

bad grown dim, uniil, as the years went on, its light was almost extinct. To such a man, the life of M. Guillemont waß unmeaning mockery. Boured and enraged by the hateful disease which in the prime of his manhood bad laid him low, this poor wretch felt nothing but irritation and envy at the health and strength which he saw in the chaplain. The maxims of infidelity which had for years replaced in bis heart the 6wei.t teachings of the Go-pel, made him anyhow regard the prebence of the priest with what was little short of loathing ; while bis sufferings, nnrelieved by any tinge of Christian resk»stion cause! him to regaid the ctiAp'ain's visits almost in the ligST of insults. " You are not warned here," he would say, as the priest, unmoved by his rebuffs, paused by bis bed in his passage thr ugh the ward. " I am not a believer. Speak to those who are, I know too much about priests." " Alas, my poor child," the chaplain would answer, '' it is not for my own sake or my own pleasure that I visit you. I come to plead with you for your soul." It is needless to dwell upon the replies which the dying sinner made to such appeals. Suffice it to say that as the days went by, M. Gnillemont'a patience never failed, that he never passed the bed of the wretched infidel without doing all he could to relieve his sufferings and without, above all, imploring the poor man to have pity upon his own soul and to turn to God. At length it was plain that the sick man's end was near. The last stage of the disease was upon him. The chaplain now redoubled hiß efforts to win this soul for heaven. With burning words he exhorted him to cleanse himself from his •ins before it was too late. "In a few hours," he said, " you will be in eternity. Nothing can now save your life. It rests with you to say whether, when yonder sun next rises, your soul is safely on its way to heaven or in the everlasting prison of hell. Which is it to be ? " •' Bat, my good sir," replied the patient, " it is no use your talking of such things to me. Though I believed them once." He added with a sigh. The priest s^w his opportunity. " Yes," he said, " think of that time. Think of your happiness then. Can you recall the moment of your First Communion with your mother kneeling near ? Can you truly say that your after life has given you any happiness to compare with the peice and joy of that bright and happy morning long ago ?" " Stop, spare me," moaned the dying man. " Why do you torment me by recalling the past, which can never coma back to me? Why do you net leave me at least as much peace as I on have with this loathsome disease V " Your peace may be beyond all words if you will but turn to the God of Peace. From whose hands did you receive the happiness the memory of which thrills you at this moment 7 From thf hands of Jesus Christ. He is ready once more to bestow upon your heart this peace and happiness, if you will but let Him. I speak in His name, and I off or you His piace. lam the priest of Jesus Christ, If you listen to my words, our Lord will listen to you when, in a few short hours, you stand before His Torone." The dying man lay silent for a few moments. There was no sign in bis face— so scored with the ravages of disease — of the struggle which was going cm in his soul. That contest, old as creation, was raging in his poor fluttering heart — the contest between good and evil. At last it seemed that his harassed mind had reached some conclusion. The glassy eyes opened onco more and turned towards the chaplain. " You tell me," he saul, " that you are the priest of Jesus Christ. But you do cot imitate Him. You valua your life like «ny other man. If you love Jesus Christ and believe that He is i» waiting you, you should wish for death, and even court it. as a means of joining your Master." " My son," replied the priest, meekly, " 1 am but a man, and I have, therefore, a man's natural clinging to life. Still, when God calls me, I trust Him that He will give me grace to face death. And indeed my life is not so dear to me but that I would willingly give it up foi Christ's sake, or for the least of His redeemed." "I do not believe it," replied the other. "It is easy to speik as you do in full health, and you are obliged, a3 a p-iest, to say sucn things. It is part of your profession. If you are feincere in your contempt for life, your readiness to die, and your belief in Chr.st, give me a preof. You see the state lam in. You se«my face, black • and fetid with the illness which is destroying me. You tell me that for Christ's Bake you love me. Prove it. Stoop down and kiss my face, and I will believe in you and in Him whose priest you are. Bisk your life by placing your li^ s against mine, and I will do all you ask.*' Without a muu ent'a hisitatL n, the holy man stretched out his aims, and folding ttum luund the dying man, as a mother foudles her tick child, he bU i>j el Ju.vn au.l impacted a kiss upon the fevered and discolouieU face,

Tne vicory was won. The zeal, true to death, o( the holy priest had triumphed. Old memories of the happy past flooded the soul and softened the heart of the sinner. It was a heroic act of faith in the truth of what he taught which the chaplain had just made. He was under no mistake as to the risk he ran, when, to rescue that soul from hell, he kissed those parched aud blackened lips. It w&s hia life which he offered for that brother's soul, and he knew it well. His sacrifice was accepted. With hot tears, snch as since childhood he had never shed, the d> ins? man began to implore the priest for those life-giving sacr*mentß which but a few moineuts before he had so proudly rejected. With his new-born humility, his faith of long ago oDce more revived. Ao hour after, the sin-laden soul shone bright with the grace of God. The forgivißg Lord— so long rejected and outraged— came to tne dying bed the moment the sioner invited Him. The loving Saviour, in the Sacrament of His Love, came, as He always comes to those who call, to help that poor soul, who for so many year* had been His enemy. There was no reproach— nothing but lova and forgiveness, as though He Himself were receiving a favour which had long been denied Him, in being allowed at last to rescue the fallen soul from the devil's snares. The end was not long delayed. With humble prayers for mercy with his hand clatping that of the priest who had given bis life for bis salvation, the penitent sinner breathed his last. But the pTice of this sudden and wonderful conversion had still to be paid. Scarcely had the grave closed over the convert's body, when the chaplain began to feel the rmt approach of the dreadful disease. But in his brave heart there was neither regret nor fear. He had counted the coat, and with calm resignation he laid himself down to die. At first it was thought that his ;seizure^was bnt slight, and his friends tried to encourage him with the hope that bis was one of the few caseß in whica the dread disease could be succesfully combated. A dear friend who vißited him at this time, Mods. La Serre, the Vice-President of the Ecole, attempted to instil this hope into the priest's heart. " We will soon see you back," he said, " teaching our boys. They are longing to have their old chaplain again." For the first time since his illness began, the Bick man seemed disturbed. "Ah I those classes," he sighed. " I should like to have held them once more. But," he continued, his face brightening as he spoke, •' it is God's will, and I will not wish it otherwise. No, do deceive yourself. 1 shall not recover. 1 have offered my mortal life to gain life eternal foi the poor soul, and our Lord has deigned to accept the sacrifice." He never for a moment entertained any expectation that he would recover. A few hours later, with the calmness which is alike the reward and the accompaniment of a good life, M. Guillemont received the las) sacramei.ts, and within a few dayß gave up his pure soul to God, Can we doubt tba God received him 1 Surely not. What our Lord chiefly requires from us is love, and with His own Divine hpa He h is told us that •' greater love hath no man than this, that ft man should lay ciown bis life for his friend." — Thr Month.