A Story of True Kindness Rewarded by Heroic Devotion ~ True Womanhood

The way we live out our faith affects all those around us and reaches out into society. We are the Mystical Body of Christ and our living out of that touches our world.. Our love for Our Lord will live on after we are gone…Let us persevere to the end.

From True Womanhood, Rev. Bernard O’Reilly, 1897

True Kindness Rewarded by Heroic Devotion

While the so-called “Tractarian Movement” (also known as the Oxford Movement, a 19th-century religious movement within the Church of England that sought to restore traditional Catholic practices and beliefs in Anglican worship) was at its height, about 1840, an aged English gentleman, with his only daughter—a lovely girl of nineteen—sought during the winter months the mild climate of Southern France, hoping in vain to delay the approach of death. He was of a good family, with a cultivated mind and refined taste, deeply interested in the controversy then agitating the English universities, and looking forward with earnest longing to the day when the churches of Western Europe would again be united in faith and communion.

Some years earlier, while seeking health among the valleys of Tuscany and Umbria, he had formed a close acquaintance with a noble and ancient family in which deep faith and practical piety went hand in hand.

His intellectual objections against the Catholic Church were met with masterly skill by the accomplished head of the house; and his prejudices about “Roman superstitions” and “idolatry” were eloquently refuted by the lives of his friend’s wife, children, and dependents.

Frequent excursions among the beautiful villages and historic sites of that region convinced him that the Italian country folk were solidly virtuous, their piety anything but blind superstition, their attachment to religion and its teachers rooted in truth and love, not fear or self-interest. He could not help contrasting their refinement, intelligence, and courtesy with the stolidity, ignorance, and coarseness of the same class in his own country.

Still, his convictions did not yet bring him to the full truth. He only concluded that there were fewer objections than he had once imagined to the reunion of the Church of England with Catholic Rome. His stay in France did not carry him further. It was only a few months before his death that his daughter’s conversion became the occasion of his own.

She had long admired the writings of Keble and Newman. The sweet hymns of The Christian Year had been her favorites from childhood; but the celebration of the great feasts in the magnificent churches of Italy convinced her that the reality conceived by Keble was to be found, not in the Anglican liturgy, but in the worship of the Catholic Church.

She had also read with deep interest Newman’s beautiful sketches of the early Fathers and their love of monastic life. In France as in Italy, she discovered religious communities of men and women whose lives conformed perfectly to the pictures drawn by St. Ambrose, St. Jerome, St. John Chrysostom, and St. Basil.

Father and daughter compared their impressions and difficulties. With his permission, she was received into the Catholic Church. The rapture on her face at her First Communion so deeply moved him that ten days later he sought the same grace. From then until his peaceful death, the happiness of both was clouded only by the grief of approaching separation and by the father’s sorrow at leaving his beloved child unprovided for.

The estates he owned were entailed; and since he had no sons, they descended to his nephew, a Low Churchman, who considered both uncle and cousin apostates. A few days after the burial, she was coldly informed that her family had cast her off entirely, and that she could expect no further claim on them for support or sympathy.

The generous girl did not lose heart. Trusting in Him for whose sake she was prepared to make any sacrifice, she resolved to support herself by her own exertions, never appealing to her relatives or accepting aid from strangers. She was proficient in music and painting, spoke five languages, and had been made practical and resourceful by constant companionship with her father.

A noble French lady, who had made their acquaintance years before in Florence, happened to reside near the town where they had stayed. She felt warm sympathy for the lovely orphan, whose character and accomplishments she greatly admired. During the father’s last illness she showed every kindness, her husband superintended the funeral, and afterward she insisted that the young lady come home with her for rest and comfort.

A fever, brought on by fatigue and grief, prolonged her stay for several months. At the end of that time, the lady proposed that she remain for the next year, hoping her relatives might relent. With no clear path forward, the young woman—whom we will call Miss Edwards—consented.

There were five children in the household, the eldest a girl of fifteen, under the care of an elderly governess; with them lived their grandmother, a stately old lady of the last century, and a large household of servants. It was only after a week that Miss Edwards discovered the old dowager to be a rank Voltairean, the count an avowed Materialist, and the countess clinging to the faith of her fathers only from political attachment to the Legitimist cause.

The children were brought up in open and avowed unbelief, although the governess still seemed to keep up in private a few simple practices of devotion.

The dowager-countess, who had followed her family into exile during the Reign of Terror, spoke English fairly well and was in many things a great admirer of England—except, as she used to say, for “the absurd and superstitious reverence of the English for a church establishment which was only Popery without the Mass, and with the reigning Prime Minister for Pope.”

She took a great liking to the beautiful orphan, insisted that she have apartments next to her own, and displayed all the graces of a cultivated mind, together with the charm of most fascinating manners, in consoling her during her first grief, soothing her sufferings in illness, and brightening her loneliness in convalescence.

The old lady was kind-hearted; her skepticism was the result of her early training and associations, and it was very seriously shaken by the unaffected piety and unquestioning faith of the young convert.

The girl was soon led to relate to her venerable friend the whole story of her own and her father’s conversion. She told it in the presence of the count and countess, who, for the first time in their lives, felt an irresistible attraction to the recital of the struggles of two superior souls seeking the true faith, and, once finding it, giving up the whole world to secure and enjoy its possession.

Unconsciously the young convalescent was drawn into explaining Catholic doctrine and practice, the perfect harmony history shows between the Church of the nineteenth and that of the early centuries, the beautiful significance of the sacramental system, and the power of solemn Church ceremonies to lift the soul to God.

There followed discussions on Catholic theories of art. Indeed, the first acquaintance of the count and countess with their eloquent young teacher had come while she was sketching frescoes in the Baptistery of Florence. Now, as her health returned, these sketches were displayed, and the children, with their governess, were invited to listen to her charming accounts of medieval Christian art and artists, which she narrated with an inspiration beyond her years.

And indeed she was inspired. During her fever she had promised herself—almost vowed—that she would devote her life to the hospitable family who had received her with such tenderness in her distress. She resolved not to leave them until she had enriched their household with the only treasure she possessed: a living faith.

The countess, who had conceived a true motherly affection for her, declared she would never part with her. The dowager affirmed that Miss Edwards had become necessary to her happiness. To ease the young woman’s scruples, it was arranged that she should remain in the family as companion to the old countess, who wished to adopt her as a daughter.

About ten weeks after her father’s death, Miss Edwards received a visit from a young cousin traveling with his mother. He had long been attached to her, and was heir to both a title and a fortune. He would gladly have laid both at her feet—if she renounced what his mother called “the Papal delusion.” The mother pleaded earnestly, but Miss Edwards remained firm against all appeals to love, ambition, and worldly advantage. Thus, no offer of marriage was made.

It was a sharp trial for the orphan, for she loved her cousin deeply, though she never admitted it. When he departed, she was found in an agony of tears by the countess, who tenderly comforted her with the delicacy of true womanly affection.

Within the year the dowager-countess died, reconciled to the faith of her childhood. Blessing the girl she called her daughter and angel guardian, she confessed her as the minister of God’s mercy in her own life. From her son she exacted the promise that he would follow her example, raise his children as faithful Catholics, and watch carefully over the Christian education of his servants and dependents.

The promise was faithfully kept. The conversation, holy life, and influence of Miss Edwards made a deep impression on him. Since his first communion, he had neglected the sacraments; but his mother’s peaceful joy after reconciliation recalled to him the sweetness of his own innocent youth.

At his request, Miss Edwards instructed his older children for confession and communion, and she also gathered the servants for prayer and catechesis. Before long, the whole household joined her each evening in the Rosary, the count himself leading the prayers.

Yet the countess remained untouched. Though she loved and admired Miss Edwards, her worldly education and intimacy with leading infidel writers of France had hardened her. Still, she agreed to aid her young friend in restoring the neglected family chapel, long used as a lumber-room. As a lover of art, she delighted in helping design frescoes, stained glass, and decoration, while Miss Edwards worked and prayed in secret for her conversion.

Seasons passed; the household was transformed by their combined charity. Miss Edwards insisted on remaining only as the countess’s “companion,” though she was treated as a sister. They even spent two seasons in Paris, where observers noted the count and countess attending Mass and engaging in charitable works.

 Some skeptics gossiped that Miss Edwards was a “female Jesuit” sent to ensnare the family for Rome, but this slander only deepened the countess’s esteem. Still, human respect held her back from admitting her longing for faith.

At last, in 1848, revolution swept France, Louis Philippe fled into exile, and the count took his seat in the National Assembly. In Paris, the cholera raged. The countess was struck with terror when she herself fell ill.

Then, in a flash of supernatural love, Miss Edwards offered her own life to God in exchange for the gift of faith for her friend. The sacrifice was accepted. The countess recovered, lived, and died a fervent Christian.

Miss Edwards was carried off by the pestilence, rejoicing that God had heard her prayer, and commending to His mercy her friends in France—and one above all others in England, whose love she still bore faithfully in her heart.

The truly religious wife finds God at Mass and from Him receives the strength to become the ideal helpmate to her husband. She does not leave God at church but keeps Him with her every minute of the day in every nook and cranny of her home. Each menial, repetitious task she must perform is a work of love for her husband and children, and through them, a work of love for her Creator. – Fr. Raoul Plus, S.J. 1950’s, The Wife Desired (afflink)

Here is a simple outline to ensure we are carrying out our daily duties as best we can on this road we travel as Catholic women. This is my own list of what I deem the basics of a successful day. It is an ideal I strive for. You may have your own plan, and I hope you do. If this can help in any way, then I have accomplished my goal with this video.

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