Among l'Abbé Gerbet's writings I will mention only one other, which is, perhaps, his masterpiece, and is connected with a touching incident that will be felt most deeply by practically religious persons, but of which they will not be alone in their appreciation. It was before the year 1838, previously to the abbé's long residence in Rome, that he became intimate with the second son of M. de la Ferronais, former minister of foreign affairs. Young Count Albert de la Ferronais had married a young Russian lady, Mdlle. d'Alopeus, a Lutheran in religion, whom he eagerly desired to lead to the faith. He was dying of consumption at Paris in his twenty-fifth year, and his end seemed to be drawing near, when the young wife, on the eve of widowhood, decided to be of her husband's religion; and one night at twelve o'clock, the hour of Christ's birth, they celebrated in his room, beside the bed so soon to be a bed of death, the first communion of one and the last communion of the other. (June 29, 1836.) L'Abbé Gerbet was the consecrator and consoler in this scene of deep reality and mournful pathos, but yet so full of holy joy to Christians. It was the vivid interest of this incomparable and ideal death-bed which inspired him to write a dialogue between Plato and Fénélon, in which the latter reveals to the disciple of Socrates all needful knowledge concerning the other world, and in which he describes, under a half-lifted veil, a death according to Jesus Christ.
"O writer of Phaedon, and ever admirable painter of an immortal death, why was it not given to you to be the witness of the things which we see with our eyes, hear with our ears, and seize with the inmost perceptions of the soul, when by a concurrence of circumstances of God's making, by a rare complication of joy and agony, the Christian soul, revealed in a new half-light, resembles those wondrous evenings whose twilight has strange and nameless tints! What pictures then and what apparitions! Shall I describe one to you, Plato? Yes, in heaven's name, I will speak. I witnessed it a few days ago, but at the end of a hundred years I should still call it a few days. You will not understand the whole of what I tell you, for I can only speak of these things in the new tongue which Christianity has made; but still you will understand enough. Know, then, that of two souls that had waited for each other on earth and had met," etc.
Then follows the story, slightly veiled and, as it were, transfigured, but without hiding the circumstances. "Plato as a Christian would have spoken thus," said M. de Lamartine of this dialogue, and the eulogium is only just.
L'Abbé Gerbet could, no doubt, have written more than one of these admirable dialogues if he had wished to devote himself to the work, or if his physical organization had enabled him to labor continuously. He processes all that is needed to make him the man for Christian Tusculanes. Three times in my life have I had the happiness of seeing him in places entirely suited to him, and which seemed to make a natural frame for him: at Juilly, in 1831, in the beautiful shades that Malebranche used to frequent; in 1839, at Rome, beneath the arches of solitary cloisters; and yesterday, again, in the episcopal gardens of Amiens, where he lives, near his friend, M. de Salinis. Everywhere he is the same. Imagine a slightly stooping figure, pacing with long, slow steps a peaceful walk, where two can chat comfortably together on the shady side, and where he often stops to talk. Observe closely the delicate and affectionate smile, the benign countenance, in which something reminds us of [{316}] Fléchier and of Fénélon; listen to the sagacious words, elevated and fertile in ideas, sometimes interrupted by fatigue of voice, and by his pausing to take breath; notice among doctrinal views, and comprehensive definitions that come to life of themselves and prove their strength upon his lips, those charming mots and agreeable anecdotes, that talk strewn with reiniscences and pleasantly adorned with amenity,--and do not ask if it is any one else--it is he.
L'Abbé Gerbet has one of those natures which when standing alone are not sufficient unto themselves, and need a friend; we may say that he possesses his full strength only when thus leaning. For a long time he seemed to have found in M. de Lamennais such a friend of firmer will and purpose; but these strong wills often end, without meaning to do so, by taking possession of us as a prey, and then casting us like a slough. True friendship, as La Fontaine understood it, demands more equality and more consideration. L'Abbé Gerbet has found a tender and equal friend, quite suited to his beautiful and faithful nature, in M. de Salinis; to praise one is to win the other's gratitude at once. Will it be an indiscretion if I enter this charming household and describe one day there, at least, in its clever and literary attractions? L'Abbé Gerbet, like Fléchier, whom I have named in connection with him, has a society talent full of charm, sweetness, and invention. He himself has forgotten the pretty verses, little allegorical poems, and couplets appropriate to festivals or occasional circumstances, which he has scattered here and there, in all the places where he has lived and the countries he passed through. He is one of those who can edify without being mournful, and make hours pass gaily without dissipation. In his long life, into which an evil thought never glided, and which escaped all turbulent passions, he has preserved the first joy of a pure and beautiful soul. In him a discreet spirituality is combined with cheerfulness. I have by me a pretty little scene in verse which he wrote a few days ago for the young pupils of the Sacred Heart at Amiens, in which there is a faint suggestion of Esther, but of Esther enlivened by the neighborhood of Gresset. The bishop of Amiens always receives them on Sunday evenings, and they come gladly to his salon, where there is no strictness, and where good society is naturally at home. They play a few games, and have a lottery, and, in order that no one may draw a blank, l'Abbé Gerbet makes verses for the loser, who is called, I think, le nigaud (the ninny). These nigauds of l'Abbé Gerbet are appropriate and full of wit; he makes them by obedience, which saves him, he says, from all blame and from all thought of ridicule. It is difficult to detach these trifles from the associations of society that call them forth; but here is one of the little impromptus made for the use and consolation "of the losers;" it is called the "Evening Game:"
"My children, to-day is our Lady's day;
Now tell me, I pray, in her dear name,
Should the hand that this morning a candle clasped,
Hold cards to-night in a childish game?
I would not with critical words condemn
A pastime the world holds innocent,
Let me but say that its levity
May veil a lesson of deep intent
Think at the drawing of each card
That every day is an idle game.
If at its close in the treasures of God
There is no prize answering to your name.
This evening game is an hour well passed
If God be the guardian of your sports;
And the day, closing as it dawned,
Shall rejoin this morning's holy thoughts.
I startle you all with my grave discourse;
You would laugh and I preach with words austere;
No worldly place this--'tis the bishop's house;
So pardon this sermon, my children dear."
This is the man who wrote the book upon the eucharist and the dialogue between Plato and Fénélon, and who had a plan of writing the last conference of [{317}] St. Anselm on the soul; this is he whom the French clergy could oppose with honor to Jouffroy, and whom the most sympathetic of Protestants could combat only while revering him and recognizing him as a brother in heart and intelligence. L'Abbé Gerbet unites to these elevated virtues, which I have merely been able to glance at, a gentle gaiety, a natural and cultivated charm, which reminds one even in holiday games of the playfulness of a Rapin, a Bougeant, a Bonhours. There has been much dispute lately as to the studies and the degree of literary merit authorized by the clergy; many officious and clamorous persons have been brought forward, and it is my desire to notice one who is as distinguished as he is modest.
For a long time I have said to myself, If we ever have to elect an ecclesiastic to the French Academy, how well I know who will be my choice! And what is more, I am quite sure that philosophy in the person of M. Cousin, religion by the organ of M. de Montalembert, and poetry by the lips of M. de Lamartine, would not oppose me.
Monday, Day after the Feast of Assumption, Aug. 16, 1832.
[Since the above article was written, the Abbé Gerbet has had conferred on the episcopal dignity. He died about one year ago.--Ed. C. W.]