I have no need to ask you to keep it to yourself. You will understand
that I must be very circumspect with regard to my mother. I would
rather die than cause her a moment's pain. O God! shall I have the
strength of mind to give my duty the preference over her? I commend
her to you; she is very pleased with your attentiveness to her. This
is the most real kindness you can do me."
[Footnote 1: _Lucta mea_, Genesis xxx. 8.]
[Footnote 2: His name was Francois Liart. He was a very upright and
high minded young man. He died at Treguier at the end of March, 1845.
His family sent me after his death all my letters to him, and I have
them still.]
THE ST. SULPICE SEMINARY.
PART V.
I thus reached the vacation of 1845, which I spent, as I had
the preceding ones, in Brittany. There I had much more time for
reflection. The grains of sand of my doubts accumulated into a solid
mass. My director, who, with the best intentions in the world, gave
me bad advice, was no longer within my reach. I ceased to take part
in the sacraments of the Church, though I still retained my former
fondness for its prayers. Christianity appeared to me greater than
ever before, but I could only cling to the supernatural by an effort
of habit--by a sort of fiction with myself. The task of logic was
done; that of honesty was about to begin. For nearly two months I
was Protestant; I could not make up my mind to abandon altogether the
great religious tradition which had hitherto been part of my life;
I mused upon future reforms, when the philosophy of Christianity,
disencumbered of all superstitious dross and yet preserving its moral
efficacity (that was my great dream), would be left the great school
of humanity and its guide to the future.
Pages:
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240