The disasters of 1870, caused Mr. Dupont a deep sorrow. He loved his country as he loved God and the Church. In common with other Catholics, he had always relied upon the valiant sword of France to defend the Spouse of Christ, whom, as eldest daughter, her mission is to protect against schism and heresy. The faith and charity which animated his private actions, also made him a virtuous citizen, an exact observer of the laws, a sincere lover of his country. Although he always held himself apart from politics, and took no part in the civil administration, he never did so through hostility or a spirit of opposition. He subjected himself to fulfil, even in the smallest point, his social duties, and these he performed as an enlightened Christian, uprightly and conscientiously. We will give only one instance of this. When the National Guard was organized in 1848, Mr. Dupont presented himself with others. He stood guard in his turn, wearing the required uniform, remained faithfully at his post, observed the watchword, and awaited patiently until he was relieved by the corporal, meditating during the time, as he himself in forms us, on the words of the Psalmist: Nisi Dominus custodierit civitatum, frustra vigilat qui custodit eam. “If the Lord keeps not the city, he watches in vain that keeps it.” He would repair from his post if it was night, to rejoin his associates collected at the Nocturnal Adoration, and continue with them, before the God of the Eucharist, his prayers for his country and his fellow-citizens.

When the news of the first defeats arrived, Mr. Dupont was alarmed for the future of France, and he wrote on September 7, 1870: “We can say nothing, we can do nothing but humble ourselves with our heads to the dust, whilst the justice of God passes by.” But in dealing a heavy blow upon France, “divine justice” was about to permit the stroke to fall at the same time upon the servant of the Holy Face, and to inflict upon him a succession of bitter trials, which, in the designs of Providence, were to purify his beautiful soul, and associate him to the dolors of Calvary. His first sorrow was the suppression of his cherished work of the Nocturnal Adoration, necessarily interrupted in consequence of the general conscription of able-bodied men, and the public charges imposed on others. He made no complaint, but in his heart it caused him great suffering. In the condition of health to which he was then reduced, he was forced to live solitary and isolated, and content himself with remaining in prayer before the Holy Face.

His house was open during the night, as well as the day, not only to the pilgrims who continued to go there, although in less numbers, but also to the young soldiers who were hastening to the defense of the invaded territory. His hospitality was well known; it was freely called upon, and many, merely passing through the city, carried letters to him from their friends. He writes to some one on October 13, 1870: “The two young men, to whom you gave letters, asked admittance last night at one o’clock. They had but a short time at their disposal, and wisely came to render homage to the Holy Face, and to ask for a medal of St. Benedict…” But already stirring events were crowding upon them, and he adds: “The Prussians are at Orleans. It is not known if they will come to Tours. In any case, nothing will occur without the permission of the Divine Master. Blessed be His holy Name!”

The sudden invasion of Paris gave rise to a remarkable event closely connected with the last years of our holy friend. The religious of the Visitation of Paray-le-Monial, with whom he held frequent communication, had, in concert with him, conceived the idea of embroidering a flag of the Sacred Heart, to be sent to the brave soldiers who were chosen to defend the capital against the contemplated attack of a foreign foe. This flag, of which a fac simile may be seen in the present oratory of the Sacred Face, represented the Sacred Heart of Jesus with the aspiration: “Heart of Jesus, save France!” From Paray-le-Monial, it was forwarded to Mr. Dupont, with the request to present it before the Holy Face, and thence send it, either to General Trochu, charged with the defense of Paris, to be planted on the walls of the capitol, or to the volunteers of the West. Mr. Dupont called upon Mr. Ratel, engineer of the railroad, and inquired if there was any means by which the banner could be introduced into Paris, He was informed that Paris was completely invested, and the trains no longer had access to the city. The idea occurred to both of them to present the banner to Charette, who had just arrived at Tours, and whose Zouaves received later the name of the Western Volunteers. They repaired to the hotel where the General lodged; they were met at first by one of his brothers; Charette entered afterwards. He accepted the gift, and a meeting was appointed for the following morning at Mr. Dupont’s. There, in presence of the Holy Face, they opened the box containing the banner. Together, they prayed for the salvation of France, and they agreed that the precious standard should be deposited in the tomb of St. Martin until the following day, and that on the reverse side should be embroidered the words: St. Martin protect France. The design for the embroidery was immediately drawn by some ladies who were present, and the work was executed by the Carmelite religious. The history of this memorable flag of the Sacred Heart is well known; how, under its auspices, the Zouaves of Charette were covered with glory, to the admiration of all France, and evert of their enemies.(1) During the siege of Paris, we trace in Mr. Dupont’s correspondence his anxiety and alarm as to the fate of his friends. But he does not interrupt his mission before the Holy Face; he receives those who present themselves from whatever quarter, or for whatever motive they may come; he is even ready “to show the Prussians several remarkable certificates written partly in German and partly in French.” “And,” he adds, “we could talk about God.” He is always the man of prayer, the man of faith and confidence in God, never despairing of the future. “We may be certain that many hearts will now turn to God; this is the plank to save us from shipwreck.” Then quoting the words of Josaphat, when he was surrounded by a multitude of enemies, he adds: “If we lifted our eyes to Heaven with the faith of Josaphat, the enemy would depart.”

It was not long before the Prussians entered Tours. They occupied the city during the armistice. To a trial so severe to the heart of a Frenchman, Mr. Dupont submitted humbly, repeating with the holy patriarch Job his habitual aspiration: Blessed be the name of the Lord! He wrote this act of praise on the 1st of February, 1871, in the midst of the Prussian invasion, at the commencement of a letter addressed to one of his goddaughters, who had taken refuge in Brittany; but an expression which escaped him, betrays the bitterness of the trial, and the heroism of his resignation: “You have, my dear child, imitated the dove of the  ark. You are the first to give me evidence that communication has been restored. Your letter brought to my old eyes the tears, which, for so many years, seemed dried up.”

As he had predetermined, he did not neglect the opportunity to speak of God and to glorify the Holy Face. “For several weeks,” he writes on March 5, 1871, “I have had quartered upon me fifteen or sixteen Prussians; with the exception of two or three Protestants, all are Catholics. Their conduct  is irreproachable.” On another occasion, he wrote:  “Among the Prussians I lodged, the Catholics were  in the majority, and they prayed much before the  Holy Face; one of them even obtained a remarkable favor. I tell you this for your consolation; but we must pray fervently that revolution may not  make progress in Paris. Alas!” He foresaw what was to happen. The revolution is a greater source of alarm to him than the foreign enemy. “The Prussian occupation,” he says, (March 20th,) “was  not very ruinous to our country, and, in general, the  men conducted themselves with propriety; in contrast to this behold at Paris, wretched criminals  rising in their ignominious audacity in opposition  to the order-loving and healthy portion of the  nation. May God in His mercy avert the scourge which seems ready to fall upon us!” “Let us pray,” he writes to another friend, “that revolutionary ideas may not gain the ascendency. Alas!” “According to the reports which are in circulation,” he writes, (March 5, 1871,) “a fearful crisis is upon us. May the Lord extend to us a helping hand!

I hope that the revolutionary hydra has too soon unmasked his batteries.” “How often,” he writes to a relative in America, (April 14, 1871,) “my thoughts turn to you in the midst of the terrible events which, for nearly a year, have crushed our poor France, abased below all other nations! You know the catastrophe; but you must pray that the abyss may not close over us; I mean, that the revolution, which is Satan unchained, may not swallow us up as it did eighty years ago.”

During the terrible days of the Commune, “the incredible recital of La Roquette,” touching the massacre of the hostages, wrings from him a cry of agony, (Aug. 15, 1871.) ”When will people begin to love each other in Paris, which has become a city of hatred!!” But, immediately, the man of prayer rises above all natural feeling; the following beautiful letter places him before us invoking all the holy patrons of the capital, and uniting their names in the form of a litany, which he proposes to recite every day: “We have had the idea of making a novena of prayers in honor of all the saints who, in any manner, are invoked in Paris, the patrons of the parishes, as well as those whose names have been given to streets and squares. Unite with us, saying for example: Our Lady of Victory, pray for us; Saint Genevieve, etc.…” This idea, as eminently Catholic as French, was realized. We have before us the series of these invocations to the number of eighty, under the title of “Litany of the Saints of Paris.” Mr. Dupont added a short notice of each Saint. We may be permitted to believe that these secret supplications made by a large number of fervent souls at the suggestion of the servant of God, contributed, in no small degree, to deliver Paris from the horrors of the Commune.

Paris being liberated from it, he expresses a desire of reparation, the justice of which will not escape any of those who are aware of the religious ignorance so common among men. “Shall we,” he writes, (June 1, 1871), “put to profit the victory gained over crime? They are going to rebuild, as soon as possible, the ruined walls. It would be a hundred times better to instruct the mind, and force all to learn the Catechism.”

But, above all, he ardently desires to see men turn to God in prayer. “Let us place ourselves in the hands of God. He alone can protect us from the shipwreck which menaces Christian civilization.” “Happily, God is all-powerful! Otherwise, there would be every reason to fear that evil would prevail. Let us then hope, notwithstanding appearances.” The sad condition to which France is reduced, afflicts him, but does not diminish his confidence. “You are bowed down under the pressure of the great affliction which weighs upon every Catholic heart. But as the sentiment of prayer seems to be awakening in a large number of souls, we should, I think, be wrong to yield to discouragement. Abraham’s confidence increased in proportion as the number of elect demanded by God decreased. Our efforts, then, should be directed to augment the number of souls destined to incline the balance on the side of mercy.”

The supernatural hopes which he cherished, gathered strength from the miraculous event occurring at Pontmain. Mr. Dupont was almost immediately informed of the circumstances attending the apparition, by a relative who was on the spot. “They were very small children who saw the Blessed Virgin; they spelled the words as they were successively formed before them: ‘Pray! My son inclines to mercy. France will soon be liberated.’” This predilection of the Mother of God for childhood charmed him; he exclaims: “The preeminence is decidedly granted to children. What a cause of abasement to pride!” He welcomes with pious avidity the least news on the subject, and he hastens to communicate it to his friends.

The situation of Rome caused him constant anxiety, “And Rome,” he writes, “alas! a subject on every side for fear and affliction! And yet, but for hope, we should faint by the way. There are so many souls walking in the way of the counsels; they may obtain grace for themselves and for others.” His hopes are founded partly on these motives, and partly on others still more elevated. “The promises made to Peter,” he says, “repose in their plenitude upon our beloved Pius IX. What more can we ask? The blood of the first martyrs was the seed of the Church. That of the martyrs of the nineteenth century will restore the Church to its primitive vigor. And notice that, for a large number of Christians, there is great need of a new resurrection. The present, then, is an important moment fraught with great interests.” A lady of Paris had sent him a pamphlet of Father de Pontlevoy, relative to the events of the period. “I have read,” he writes, “the pamphlet with great interest. It is one of those things which bring out clearly the great souls who have received the glorious mission to save the Church in these disastrous times, when the bark of Peter is, apparently, in danger. The blood of the martyrs gave birth to the first Christians; the martyrs of the nineteenth century will arrest the revival of paganism. Let us, then, remain Christians.”

The pilgrimage of Pontmain furnishes him food for reflection and hope. “I know,” he says, “that General Charette went with all the officers of his battalion from Fougfères to this new pilgrimage, and that he and all his companions were struck by what they heard from the children and the inhabitants of this little place, which will become a great place, when the prophetic words, spoken a few days before the armistice, will be accomplished. It will be the complement of Salette and Lourdes.” On January 29, 1873, he writes: “The grand inspiration of faith which is impelling multitudes to make distant pilgrimages, excites strong hopes for the future. The favors of Heaven, so lavishly bestowed for some time past, strengthen our confidence. I have passed some pleasant hours lately with the author of a pamphlet entitled: The Miracles of our Lady of Lourdes; a Public Challenge to Free Thinkers. Ten thousand francs were deposited with a notary. That such a production should reach its seventeenth edition, proves that Satan must have fallen back a great distance. Away then, Satan!!!” Nevertheless, as he knows that France has been chastised, because of her foolish pretensions and her pride, he is persuaded that her salvation must come through the intercession of the humble and the lowly. Some one in Paris proposed to make a novena of prayers. “Think of me,” he writes, “during this week, when you will be at the tomb of St. Genevieve. It is the lowly who will save France. Benedict Labre will unite with St. Genevieve, with Joan of Arc, Germaine Cousin and other little ones who are unknown to men.” Two extensive manifestations of Catholic faith at Tours rejoiced his soul, and convinced him more and more that the work of St. Martin was destined to play an important part in the providential mission of France. The tomb of the Blessed Jeanne-Marie de Maillé, one of the glories of the province of Tours had been exposed, and devotion to her had, through the exertions of Cardinal Guibert, just been solemnly recognized and approved by the Holy See. Under Monseigneur Fruchaud, successor of Monseigneur Guibert, it became the occasion of a triduum of religious festivals, during which the ancient faith of Tours gave evidence of its vitality, and awoke to its early splendor. The new glory of this illustrious servant of St. Martin imparted additional brilliancy to the annual celebration of the feast of the Thaumaturgus. The solemnity of the 11th of November, 1872, and the exercises preceding and following it, were the occasion of an outbreak of piety and of transports of fervor, which had not before been seen at Tours. Mr. Dupont takes pleasure in referring to this in his correspondence: “The novena of St. Martin,” he says, “is performed here in a most consoling manner through the marvelous eloquence of Father Felix. The metropolitan church is too small to contain the crowds of men who attend.” The joy of these festivals was to the servant of God, as are the last rays of the setting sun to the belated traveler. The days of entire isolation and acute suffering were approaching.

1. The banner in the church of the Sacred Heart at Paris bears, on one side, the Sacred Heart, and, on the other, St. Martin. It expresses the same idea: that of invoking the Sacred Heart and the Thaumaturgus of Gaul for the salvation of France, and we see that it originated before the Holy Face of Tours, from a happy inspiration of Mr. Dupont.