M. Dupont had been married five years when God gave him a daughter. She was born October 4, 1832, and was named Mary Caroline Henrietta. The name of Henrietta has a history, connected with it. Mr. Dupont had commissioned a friend in Paris to purchase for him a little carriage. It so happened that the furniture of the palace of Charles X was being sold, and among other articles was the carriage which had been used by the little Duke of Bordeaux, Henry V. His friend obtained possession of it and forwarded it to Martinique; the father, delighted by the circumstance, desired the name of Henrietta to be given to the new-born babe for whom it had been procured.

Henrietta was baptized immediately after her birth, but the solemn ceremonies were deferred eight months. A magnificent festival celebrated the event at the hôtel des Follets. “Suddenly,” relates a relative of Mr. Dupont, “it was noticed that the young mother had disappeared. For a long time she was sought in vain. At last, Léon found her by herself weeping. To the inquiries as to the cause of her sorrow, she said she would not raise her child, that she herself would die. Was it a presentiment? However that may be, she died a short time afterwards. Although she was known to be in delicate health, she was not considered ill. She asked, however, for a priest, requesting him to administer to her the last sacraments. As the priest refused, observing to her that she was not ill, she insisted, saying: ‘You will not have time to return.’  It happened as she said. It was another priest, near at hand, who was summoned hastily to administer the last rites of the Church. She expired August 1, 1833, eight months after the birth of her daughter. Léon loved his wife devotedly, and this sudden blow affected him deeply; his grief was such as to bring on an illness which caused his friends great anxiety.”

When he had rallied a little, he was advised to visit the continent. As the frail health of his daughter was a source of continual anxiety, he determined to leave Martinique and seek in France a climate more suitable to himself and his daughter. He obtained a leave of absence from the court, but finally sent in his resignation of the office of councilor. Mr. Dupont enjoyed at that time the large fortune left him by his father; his mother’s income was also considerable; he was thus enabled to live in a handsome and independent manner. Towards the end of May, 1834, he sailed from Martinique and landed in Bordeaux with his mother, Madame d’Arnaud, who had been a widow nearly five years, his daughter, Henrietta, two years and a half old, Alfred, his negro boy, and Adele, a mulatto girl, a cousin of Alfred. From Bordeaux he went to Nantes to visit his uncle, Mr. de Beauchamp, who entertained him hospitably in the city and also at his country-seat, Gringueniéres, situated on the borders of Maine and Anjou. He left there his mother and daughter for several months, whilst he was making arrangements to establish himself at Tours, which he had selected for his residence.

Many circumstances combined to induce him to give the preference to that city: the mild climate which appeared to him particularly suited to  his daughter’s delicate constitution; the reputation of the illustrious and good Doctor Bretonneau, whom he had known from his childhood, and under whose care he desired to place Henrietta; the proximity of the castle of Chissay, where he had passed so many happy days in his childhood, and whither the kindness of his old uncle, the Count de Marolles attracted him, and finally and more than all the rest, the expressed wish of his deceased wife. Madame Léon Dupont, as we know, had been educated at Tours with the Ursulines, by Madame de Lignac; she preserved so filial and loving remembrance of the instructions and counsels of her venerated mistress, that feeling her death approaching, and considering the future of her infant daughter, she begged her husband not to confide the education of the child to any other than the Superioress of the Ursulines of Tours. Léon promised to comply with her wishes, and this was the principal motive which brought him to the city of St. Martin. Providence had also His designs over him which were to unfold themselves later.

After having had charge of the mother, Madame de Lignac saw the daughter entrusted to her care. Mr. Dupont selected a house in the Cathedral parish, where he was a near neighbor of Dr. Bretonneau, and not far from the convent of the Ursulines. He occupied that dwelling about two years, when he was forced to move in consequence of the extension of Buffon street, which passed exactly through the ground occupied by his residence. It was at that time he became a tenant, at first, and then proprietor of the house in the street Saint Etienne, which was destined to be sanctified and rendered illustrious by his presence, and which he was to occupy to the end of his life.

Hardly was he settled, when he resumed the good works of piety and charity which had engrossed his attention in Martinique. At the same time, the old idea of a vocation to the priesthood presented itself to his mind. He asked himself if the moment had not arrived to realize it, to abandon the world, to leave the care of his daughter to his mother, and to enter Holy Orders. Being intimately acquainted with Madame de Lignac, and reposing entire confidence in her spiritual discernment and judgment, he opened his heart freely to her, and described his uncertainty with regard to his vocation to the ecclesiastical state.

“He consulted me,” she says, “requesting me to point out a confessor. I mentioned Mr. Jolif du Colombier, then pastor of the Cathedral. He was delighted with him, and until deprived of him by death, consulted him as his spiritual director, and often thanked me for the introduction to him.” Madame de Lignac adds: “Mr. du Colombier spoke to me of Mr. Dupont’s desire, and we agreed entirely in our opinion. We thought he would do more good and exercise a more extensive influence by remaining in the world. He yielded his judgment to our united advice.”

From that time he devoted all his energies to lead a fervent, Christian life, openly professing his faith by his words and his example. The course he pursued created considerable sensation in the city. At this period, not long after the revolution of 1830, human respect exercised a sovereign empire over men of every class. Very few ventured to fulfil publicly their religious duties. They attended church by stealth, and concealed certain acts of exterior piety from the eyes of others. Therefore, it was an extraordinary circumstance to see a layman like Mr. Dupont, of polished manners, agreeable in social intercourse, of high family and enjoying a large fortune, willing to appear pious and devout, following the priest as he carried Viaticum to the dying, serving Mass when the occasion required it, joining in the processions of the Blessed Sacrament on Corpus Christi, or bearing a flambeau in his hand at the meetings of the Confraternities of the Sacred Heart or of the Blessed Virgin. To the silent influence of example in the cause of religion, he added fervor in his conversations, speaking unhesitatingly of God and religion in any company whatever, and doing it with a charming grace, a deep conviction, an uprightness and wisdom, which challenged the approval even of those who taxed him with exaggeration. Sometimes the sight of certain public scandals excited his zeal and led him to the commission  of acts of vigor to which the good people of Tours were unaccustomed. As he was passing along the street one day, his eye fell upon an immodest picture exposed at the door of a shop. He stopped, thrust his foot through the canvas, and paid the price demanded by the owner, upon condition that he would never again display publicly any similar paintings.

The conduct of Mr. Dupont was a powerful protest against the cowardly concessions of certain men, who, in reality, loved and reverenced religion, but who had not the moral courage to practice and honor it before the world. Everything about him claimed respect. Imagine the former royal councilor of the Antilles, with his tall, upright figure, his high, broad forehead, his noble bearing, his calm, serene countenance, his toilette free from extravagance, but always exquisitely and irreproachably neat, assisting at the public office of the parish, exhibiting in his exterior, with as much dignity as modesty, the sentiments of strong faith and ardent love for God by which he was animated. What admiration he won from all who came in contact with him! I was a young seminarian at that time. Never shall I forget the impression made upon me when I saw him serving Mass in some one of the Cathedral chapels, or holding the cords of the canopy during processions of the Blessed Sacrament. So much modesty, piety and angelic fervor in a simple layman, a man of high birth, was an unexpected phenomenon at that period: it was a revelation to me of what the faithful of the Church must have been in the time of the Apostles.

Mr. Dupont was soon chosen administrator of the Cathedral property. No one was better suited to bear the title. He resided in the parish; the pastor was his confessor; he was assiduous in his attendance at the Church Office, and like the Christians of former times, was often present even on week days. He had acquired the habit of reciting daily the entire Office, such as is said by priests, and he subjected himself to an exact observance of the hours allotted for the different portions. A young curate of the city went, on one occasion, to make his confession to the Canon Pasquier, and met Mr. Dupont, who had visited him for the same purpose. The pious layman proposed to him to say the Office together whilst they were waiting for their confessor. The ecclesiastic, who was not acquainted with Mr. Dupont, was astonished on hearing such a suggestion made by a man evidently of high position in the world.

These holy practices did not interfere with his social relations. Mr. Dupont frequently mingled with persons of his own rank, received and returned the visits of his friends, with whom his intercourse was of the most cordial kind. His conversation was sprightly, animated by pleasant anecdotes and witty repartees. He was what we may call a great talker, but, at the same time, a most agreeable conversationalist. Later in life, he gave a more spiritual and mystical turn to his remarks; but his intercourse was then chiefly with persons of dignity, or souls blessed with choice graces. Even his acquaintances of rank in the world, although sometimes considering his piety unseasonable, and his fervor exaggerated, could not withhold their admiration or refuse the respect due to his virtue.

The frequentation of the sacraments having become a habit in his youth, contracted by the obligation imposed oh him as a member of the Congregation of the Blessed Virgin, he continued to be faithful to his duties in Martinique. When settled at Tours, he took advantage of his freedom from official charges to approach the holy table more frequently. Nearly every day he communicated, either at the Cathedral or in the chapel of some religious community, according as circumstances or devotion dictated. So desirable did the happiness of communicating appear to Mr. Dupont, that he was surprised to find his pious practice a subject of comment. The very sight of the altar filled him with emotion, and drew from him ardent expressions indicative of the vivacity of his faith. One day, a priest of the Cathedral noticed him standing alone, as if absorbed in contemplation, at a short distance from one of the side chapels, where the Bread of Life had been distributed to the faithful at the early Mass. Seeing him approach, Mr. Dupont stopped him, and pointing to the communion cloth spread over the railing, said in a low tone with an accent of faith and admiration: “How good is God! Behold! The table is set! The feast is prepared, the Master awaits His guests…. All are invited…. No one is excluded or refused. Yes, God is good! Where can we find the great ones of the earth who keep a table always ready for those who present themselves? Why do not all come?”

What he thus said privately in the ear of a friend, he did not hesitate to repeat openly as circumstances suggested the thought. He urged to frequent communion those over whom he possessed any influence. His piety in regard to the Holy Eucharist was solid and enlightened. Besides studying books of controversy, he read the best ascetic authors. Gifted with an upright mind and sound sense, he was not influenced by sentiment in matters of doctrine or principle, nor controlled by his imagination.

We have proof of this in a small book which he published in 1839 under the following name: “Faith Strengthened and Piety Reanimated in the Mystery of the Eucharist.” The work is divided into two parts. In the first, he enumerates the proofs generally adduced by theologians in support of the dogma of the real presence: the words of scripture, the testimony of the Fathers, tradition, and the Greek and Latin liturgies. These proofs are presented with force, clearness and precision; it is a learned and concise polemic work, in which the quotations are given verbatim. The second part, which is moral and mystic, contains a series of meditations on the Eucharist, selected from those of Father Avancini and from the “Eucharistic Month” of Father Lezcari.

Unpretending in form, simple and natural in style, this work gives us a fair idea of the friendly discussions and the controversial disquisitions in which Mr. Dupont willingly engaged with Protestants, or unbelievers. The magisterial style of the former councilor of the royal court of Saint-Pierre, was not without a salutary effect. At the time when he published it, there still remained a taint of Jansenism in our midst. Men, professing to be Christians, lived more like Protestants than Catholics, and whether through indifference, human respect or obstinacy, habitually abstained from holy communion. Mr. Dupont, by his pen, his conversation and example, exerted himself strenuously to counteract this fatal habit. To his eyes, faith in the real presence was the germ of every virtue, the fertile root on which all private devotions should depend. It was the rule he adopted for himself. If then the life of this fervent Christian, appears to us springing up under the eye of God and before man as a noble, vigorous tree, adorned with flowers and fruit, let us remember that the sap, which vivifies it, is devotion to the Blessed Eucharist.