In 1842, she wrote to an artist friend in Frankfort, "I am fully satisfied that I entertain no prejudices, and honestly wish to know God's will. He has already cleared away many a spiritual obstacle, and transformed much within me. When it is his holy will to lead me into the church, I am confident that he will remove every remaining hinderance to my conviction." She thought, however, that the church did not give Protestants a very easy time. Their acceptance of the Tridentine confession of faith was a hard matter. Still, her mind had already attained to such clearness that she now desired the instruction of some competent priest. Through the instrumentality of Diepenbrock, a theological teacher was brought to her, who gained her confidence. She earnestly began her task, zealously and perseveringly devoting to it several hours a week for an entire year. The structure of Catholic faith began to open itself to her now with all its interior consistency and harmony. One scruple after another vanished, including those which finally troubled her; as, for instance, the expression, "Mother of God;" the alleged mutilation of the holy sacrament, by withdrawal of the cup from the laity, etc. In the words of her spiritual guide, she learned to distinguish that which is divine, and essential, and immutable in the church, from that which is human, and incidental, and mutable; and what had hitherto proved an insurmountable obstacle, the seemingly mechanical, and often rude devotions of the common people, as also the worldly splendor of the hierarchy—this ceased to trouble her more.
In the autumn of 1843, Miss Linder made another tour to the Tyrol and Upper Italy, and few could surmise that she was so near to the decisive step. She writes from Munich, on the 16th of October, "I have just made with the Schuberts a somewhat fatiguing trip as far as Verona, where, by the way, I had almost come to a standstill, to copy a picture there. We then remained for a couple of weeks in Botzen, where all was so quiet, and reposeful, and secluded, that it was right grateful to me." Amid this stillness and seclusion to which she abandoned herself, still more than in Munich, was finally brought to maturity "the great work of redemption."
Toward the end of November, 1843, on the approach of Advent, there burst upon her spiritual life a new era, and her long suspense and yearning resolved itself into the cry, "I will enter the church!" The final word of decision was immediately winged to heaven on a prayer. Upon the threshold of that expectant season, when the church sings, "Drop down dew, ye heavens, from above, and let the clouds rain the just," she participated, one morning, with the most ardent devotion, in a low mass celebrated in conformity with her intention. This was the decisive hour. She left the chapel with the joyous and unalterable resolve to enter into fellowship with the Catholic Church. All was overcome, aided and enlightened by the grace of God. Standing before her little house altar, she rehearsed, for the first time, the Catholic creed.
The first to whom the glad intelligence flew was a noble pair, Apollonia Diepenbrock and her brother, the latter of whom was subsequently the celebrated cardinal and bishop of Breslau, but at that time, the vicar-general of Regensburg. Both were associated with the pious artiste in a friendship of many years, and had been long familiar with the course of her religious development. Melchior von Diepenbrock, during just this last period, had been a faithful and intelligent adviser to her. The disciple of Sailers responded to the joyous intelligence with a peace-greeting befitting a shepherd of the church. He wrote on the 29th of November, 1843:
"Hindered by very unwelcome business, I was unable, either yesterday or the day before, to express my heartfelt sympathy and delight over the surprising intelligence of your note of Saturday. Surprising, because I had not anticipated so sudden a loosening of the fruit, ripe as it was. But the wind 'which bloweth where it listeth,' stirred the tree, and the ripe, mellow fruit fell into the lap of the true mother, where it will now be well cared for, growing mellower and sweeter until the coming of the Bridegroom. My hope and prayer for you now is, that peace and rest may be yours after a suspense and unrest which has thus loosed itself in the simple and welcome words,'I will enter the church.' But you have every reason to be at rest; for a church which has given birth to a Wittman, a Sailer, a Fénélon, a Vincent de Paul, a Tauler, a Suso, a Thérèse, a Bernard, an Augustine, an Athanasius, a Polycarp, and so on, up to the apostles themselves, and which has nursed them on her breast with the self-same heavenly doctrine; from whose mouth and from whose life, in turn, this same identical doctrine has been breathed down like a fragrant aroma, through a course of eighteen hundred years; in such a church is there safe and good travelling companionship for heaven. Following their guidance, you need not fear going astray. I therefore, from my very soul, bid you welcome to this noble company to which you have long since, through your intense yearning, and by anticipation, belonged, but now have identified yourself with openly, by a grasp of the hand and a kiss of reconciliation; with whom you will soon fully and finally be incorporated by that most sacred seal and covenant, that highest consecration of love, the holy Eucharist. You have had a rough and thorny path to travel, and passed through long years of struggle, doubt, and conflict, to arrive at this goal. Bind, now, the olive wreath of peace coolingly around your heated temples. Let all labor of the brain, all strain of the intellect, now subside. Live a life of tranquillity. Open your heart to a reception of the holy gifts which the church, as you enter, proffers you. And above all, banish all anxiety and doubt, for therewith you gain nothing, and spoil all. Let your barque, wafted by the breath of God, glide peacefully down the broad stream of the church's life. Revel in the stars, and the flowers which mirror themselves therein, the denizens that disport there; and, should now and then an uncouth, repulsive creature catch your eye, reflect that the kingdom of God is still entangled in the contradictions of developement. Think upon that great world-net which gathers souls of every description, and upon the angel who, upon the great day, will separate them all. And now I commend you to God. Once more, may peace and joy in the Holy Ghost be your morning-gift."
And soon this "morning-gift" possessed her soul. Being fully prepared, her admission, as she had wished, could be immediate. But she desired to take the step in all quietness, and only a few of her friends, like Professor Haneberg and Phillips, were informed of it the evening before, she desiring to secure for herself their prayers.
On the 4th of December, 1843, Emily Linder, accompanied by her friend Apollonia, in the Georgian Seminary chapel made solemn profession of the Catholic faith. On the day following, the papal nuncio, Viale Prelà, administered to her, in his house-chapel the sacrament of confirmation; delivering, at the same time, an eloquent address in German. The friend before mentioned was godmother, and, as one present remarked, by her faith, her love, her prayers, and her efforts, she had indeed proved her spiritual mother. In company with this friend, she went to Regensburg, in order to withdraw into retirement, and to be alone with her new-born joy.
Her letters during this period give animated testimony to what extent, and with what daily increase, this joy was experienced. A jubilant rapture pervades the letters which announce the event to distant friends, particularly those addressed to Overbeck in Rome and Steinle in Frankfort; both friends and companions in art. These and a few others had been admitted to her confidence in spiritual matters. To the latter, whom, of her younger friends, she particularly prized and respected, she thus announces the circumstance, "This time I come to you with but few words; words no longer conditional, but right conclusive. I am a Catholic. Could I have written to you, as I wished, to ask your prayers for me before the eventful hour, even then you might have been taken by surprise; but now the news has doubtless reached you from Munich, and I write this letter simply as confirmation, and because I wish that you should be informed of it by me personally. You have lately hardly thought, I suppose, that it would come so soon; and yet I was long prepared for it. After many a struggle, particularly of late, it had become to me a positive necessity, a natural and necessary development of my spiritual life. When I had once announced my determination to the clergyman who for some time had been instructing me, my desire was to take the step right quickly. My good Apollonia left Regensburg immediately for Munich, to be present at my reception into the church; and the day following this I was confirmed. I have now accompanied my friend hither to escape from all excitement and pass some days in retirement; needed opportunity of fortifying myself against much that must necescessarily come, that is hard and disagreeable. Yet has God been inexpressibly kind and gentle in his dealings with me thus far."
A letter to the same friend on the 19th of January thus reads: