San Jacopo \u2014 Sienna \u2014 L’Antignano, Marseilles \u2014 A holy death<\/em><\/p>\n Leghorn is about 12 miles below Pisa. A charming little village named San Jacopo, nestles among the rocks on the shores of the Mediterranean, about a quarter of an hour’s journey from Leghorn. “It was there,” wrote Ozanam, “that we alighted like a flock of gulls as soon as ever the first dawn of May gave hope of Spring. I said a quarter of an hour’s journey, that is by the clock; but fully a hundred miles away by the appearance of the country, the quiet of the scene and the clearness of the air. San Jacopo has the good sense to turn its back on the idea of a commercial town, and to open its windows joyously to the sea on a southern aspect. In front of us stretches the Mediterranean with the magic of its ever-changing waters, dancing, sparkling under the sun’s rays, iridescent and lustrous under a cloudy sky. It is immensity, but it is not solitude. Steamers, ships, fishing vessels, move about on its waters; in the distance are to be seen Gorgone, Capraja, Elba, Corsica. That beautiful picture is framed on our right by the mountains of Spezia crowned with snow, on our left by Montenero with its Madonna, whither each neighbour\u00ading village comes in pilgrimage during the month of May.”<\/p>\n Ozanam wrote below that picture: “My wife adores this place, but she raves about the fishermen with their pretty lateen-sailed boats. She has made a vow that, if I am cured, we shall sell our books, buy a fishing boat and go singing, like the Italians, coral-fishing on the coasts of Sicily and Sardinia. Fortunately I have not made that promise: I stand for the home-land: I believe that the very first sail that would waft me away, would bear me towards France. I cannot rest until I have seen my many friends whose memory has sweetened our exile.”<\/p>\n Are those sketches drawn by the hand of a dying man?<\/p>\n Ozanam had scarcely arrived in Leghorn, on the 1st May, when the Conference of the Society of St. Vincent de Paul carried him off to preside over the celebration of its second anniversary. It was not enough to preside; he must speak. He graciously consented to say a few words. Those words have been preserved and translated. They are his last words in public, they are the testament of his Charity.<\/p>\n ” Although I am forbidden by considerations of health from delivering even the shortest address, I cannot resist the temptation to say a few words to you, to express the pleasure which I feel at being again in your midst, well-beloved brothers in St. Vincent de Paul.”<\/p>\n Bringing his address in a calm spirit to bear upon his own state of health, he gives himself up to memories which are saddened by the thought of his approaching end: “When the bad days of life come for the Christian,” he said, “when he finds himself a prey to great infirmity, that is the time for him to run back in his mind over the years that are passed, to recall the good and the evil which he has done, the evil, to repent of and do penance for, the good, to find consola\u00adtion and encouragement therein, in his present affliction. I have that experience to-day, and my tongue is incapable of expressing the consolation which the memory of my early years brings to my soul, especially since I do not know if God will grant me much longer the joy of seeing the good which our dear Society of St. Vincent de Paul is doing.”<\/p>\n Ozanam congratulated the Leghorn Conference on the progress which it had made in two years. As in the case of the Society itself, the Conference was founded in the month of flowers, the month dedi\u00adcated to Mary, our special Protectress. It had at first only eight members, a feature of the first Conference. Ozanam knew that the obstacle in the way of development was due to political divisions: “That should not exist in Italian cities, which had long been torn by factions, until Fr. John of Vicenza, and St. Bernard of Sienna, flung themselves, crucifix in hand, between the combatants to reconcile them.” Class hatred also existed. “It is for you then, my dear Brothers, to intervene between rich and poor in the name of Jesus Christ, the God of the poor and of the rich, the greatest of the rich, since He is so by nature, the holiest of the poor, since He is poor by the free choice of love.”<\/p>\n Ozanam’s words now breathed vigour and grace. It is the pheno\u00admenon of the life ascending, and the last flow of the autumn sap to the ends of those topmost branches that look towards heaven.<\/p>\n The same charity of St. Vincent de Paul urged him, on the 5th of May, to write an extremely kind letter to one of his most interesting ‘cases’ in Paris, M. Jerusalemy. He was a converted Jew who had been recommended to the Society by the Conferences in Rome and in Constantinople, and who had suffered courageously for his conversion. Ozanam congratulates him upon being a Jew, one of the chosen race of other days: “Ali! my friend,” he said, “when one has the happi\u00adness of being a Christian, it is a great honour to be born a Jew and to feel oneself the lineal descendant of the patriarchs and the prophets, whose words are so beautiful that the Church finds nothing better to put into the mouths of her children. You must know then that during the long weeks of lassitude, the Psalms of David have scarce left my hands. Has not the Saviour allowed Himself to be called the Son of David? I, too, cry out often in my infirmity: ‘Son of David, have mercy on me! ‘ I do not know if [ told you, but my brother Charles will tell you, that we also believe we are of Jewish descent, which is another bond of union between us. You ought, therefore, to understand why we brothers have a deep interest in all that concerns you. I believe that Charles will have introduced you into a Conference of the Society of St. Vincent de Paul. It does me good to know that we are linked together by that bond. Do not weary of loving, nor of praying, my dear Jerusalemy, for one who is yours devotedly.” That letter is the perfection of kindness.<\/p>\n The beneficial effect of the sea on Ozanam’s health was not slow in making itself felt, as he had already experienced at Dieppe and Biarritz. Having got back a little of his strength, he attempted to resume literary work. It was at San-Jacopo that he began, for the tenth time, the final revision of his trip to Burgos, his three days Odyssey. “Ah!” he exclaimed occasionally, “why is this San Jacopo of Leghorn not St. James of Compostella.” He wrote slowly, quietly, at intervals on the same table at which his daughter Marie was learning her lessons. As soon as a page was finished he read it to his wife, both experiencing a feeling of joy at seeing the attentive face of the child, who also did not forget.<\/p>\n About that time, May-June, 1853, the Poetes ranciscains <\/i>opened the doors of the Florentine Academy De La Crusca <\/i>to him, and he was received into its ranks at the same sitting as Cesare Balbo, the renowned author of the Sberanze d’ Italia. <\/i>He had been a corresponding member of the Tiberian Academy of Rome since 1841, a member of the Academy of the Arcades since 1844. He was also a member of the Royal Academy of Bavaria, 1847, of the Lyons Academy, 1st January, 1848. But nothing seems to have touched him so much as his affiliation to the Order of St. Francis. The certificate of membership, under the seal of the General of the Order, was delivered to him in San Jacopo. “He numbers me among the benefactors of the Franciscan family,” he wrote on the 22nd of June, “and gives me a share in the merits of the Friars Minors who are working and praying for everyone. It is not the least affecting of my titles.”<\/p>\n On the other hand, in the same letter he definitely gave up all idea of membership of the Academy of Inscriptions and Literature, for which honour his friends declared him qualified and designated. He replied to M. Amp\u00e8re: “In such a solemn moment, when every question of my future is hanging on the great question of my health, when I am asking God to let me live for the sake of my wife and child, would there not be a certain inconsistency in seeking that superfluity to satisfy my literary self-love?”<\/p>\n Two months “intimate acquaintance with the sea “had passed when Ozanam was able to write with gratitude: “I am enjoying the pleasure of resuming by degrees my way of living. I am able to take long walks without fatigue; I spend mornings on the rocks watching the waves, every trick of which I know by this time. My strength is coming back but slowly; but that was to be expected after such a long and serious attack. Certainly if July and August, which are reputed to be great doctors, treat me well, I shall be cured this autumn.”<\/p>\n The following day, the 23rd of June, was the twelfth anniversary of his marriage. Ozanam, sitting in sight of the sea dotted with sails, wrote the following verses in honour of his wife, with a pure and tender grace, inspired by faith, hope and love, the three Christian Muses:<\/p>\n Sur l’Ecueil de San-Jacopo, 23 juin, 1853.<\/p>\n Sur un ecueil lointain, notre nef echou\u00e9e Pourtant voici douze ans, sous ce dour patronage Depuis ce temps, le ciel s’est noirci sur nos totes, Non, non, le ne veux plus craindre sous votre garde, Et sa main nous poussant very une mer calmee, The house in San Jacopo could not keep its guests beyond the end of June. The doctors permitted Ozanam to spend Jul!\u2022 and August at Antignano, a pretty little village at the foot of Montenero. The best society in Florence, Pisa, Sienna and Leghorn spent those months there: “We are to be Italians for two months. Marie will take baths and I, the air. I shall enjoy the charming society of Professor Ferrucci and through him the books of the Pisa Library. He was my literary purveyor during the winter. Neither will my wife and child be lonely. If God permits my cure to continue, we shall spend a happy time there. The memory of the absent will not be wanting, and on this occasion there will also be the hope of again seeing them.”<\/p>\n As Antignano could not receive Ozanam until the middle of July, he spent the first fortnight of the month in making what he called “his pastoral visitation “of the Conferences in that area, Florence, Pontedera, Prato, etc. He sent a report of the visitation to Paris. We shall be pardoned for reproducing the description of the humble artisan who presided over the Conference of Pontedera. ” Pontedera is a good market-town of from five to six thousand inhabitants… You must not expect to find nobles and savants there, non multi nobiles, non multi sapientes. <\/em>But we have Brother B. there, and in him one of the most capable and most commanding Presidents that I know. Brother B. is a knife-grinder, but not a travelling gander ; he has a shop with a very good connexion. On market days be sharpens scythes, reaping-hooks and pruning-hooks for the peasants. But in his leisure hours\u2014and Italians have many such\u2014Brother B. has read a good deal; he studies his religion in the lives and the works of the saints. As a result of that contact with the greatest minds of Christianity he has acquired a sound knowledge, and in addition an extraordinary elevation of mind, and a charm of speech which is heightened by naturally amiable and refined manners. He came in the garb of a workman. but before five minutes\u00a0hadelapsed one recognised in him a superior man who was infinitely more interesting than the mob of distinguished people who crowd the salons. In a few words he brought, not merely to my knowledge but before my eyes, the little Conference of Pontedera its works, difficulties and hopes,\u00a0 all with a simplicity, tact, and propriety of expression which charmed my mind, the while his exquisite Tuscan pronunciation ear.<\/p>\n Ozanam would not be consoled for the absence of a Conference in Sienna; all the more because half of the Pisa University had been transferred thither, bringing in its train a large number of students. Ozanam wished to go there. His friends objected that the journey was diffcult: “Since God is restoring my strength,” he replied, “it is in His service that it must be spent..”<\/p>\n The warmest possible welcome was awaiting him and his family from the Rev. Pere Pendola. the most important person in the city. He was General Head-Master of the Institute of deaf-mutes for all Tuscany, director of the College of.<\/sup> Tolonnei\u2014One of the most important Italian schools\u2014a Professx in the University. However, he, who had so many pre-occupations, appeared for four days to live only for his five visitors, a lady, an invalid, a child, a servant and a guide. They settled down in the house. where everything was in readiness for them, where every care was lavished on them. “So”, Ozanam wrote to Pere Pendola on his return, “wehad only to allow ourselves to exist in happy Sienna, where, it is related, many saints have been waited on by angels. We are indeed not saints, but a good angel has certainly waited on us. We left, laden with presents and happy memories, I with your work on the Lingua Lonibarda, <\/i>and with your portrait which I value still more highly; Amelie with Saint Catherine; and Marie with such a load of presents that we might as well have carried away the Town Hall tower.”<\/p>\n But the one thing necessary, the sole object of the trip, the much-desired establishment of a Conference of the Society of St. Vincent de Paul, had not been achieved. After four days’ efforts to lay the foundations, after a last evening spent in recommending the project to the Rev. Father and to some influential people, the answer came, that the spirit of the young Tuscan nobles would not adapt itself to the visitation of the poor in their homes. Ozanam went away bitterly disappointed. It was only the hope of accomplishing that good work, he said, that sustained him and made him capable of such fatigue. He had failed. When he returned disappointed, he was heard saying, with tears in his eves: “<\/i> God no longer blesses my efforts. He does not wish for any further service at my hands!”<\/p>\n lowever, fire Pendola, whom he called “his dear friend,” had not said his last word. Having had no reply for a fortnight after his return to Antignano, Ozanam made up his mind to make another assault on that noble heart. He wrote. The last lines of his letter, all aflame with the charity of Jesus Christ, are not surpassed by any\u00adthing which has come from that heart of fire, and which alas! was so near extinction! “Reverend Father and dear friend, I was very glad to see the good seed of the Society of St. Vincent de Paul germinate and fructify in your Tuscan soil. I have seen it do so much good, sustain very many young men in the practice of virtue, and enkindle wonderful zeal! We have Conferences in Quebec and Mexico. We have them in Jerusalem. We have certainly one in Heaven, for more than a thousand of our Brothers have, during the twenty years of our existence, gone to the better life. Why then should we not have a Conference in Sienna, which is called the Ante-Chamber of Paradise?<\/i> Why should we not see in the city of the Blessed Virgin, a Society which has the Blessed Virgin for its principal Patron? Above all, why should we not succeed in the College of Tolomei, where our young branch, under your fostering hand, would not run the danger of precocious maturity?”<\/p>\n ” You have many rich children. 0 Father! what a salutary lesson for hearts degenerated by luxury, what a beneficent sight it would be to show them Our Lord Jesus Christ, not only in the pictures of great masters, not only on altars glittering with gold and light, but in the person and the suffering of the poor! We have often discussed the weakness, the futility, of men, even of Christian men, among the nobility of France and Italy. I am satisfied that they are so because one thing has been wanting to their education. There are some things that they have not been taught, some things that they know by name only, and which one must have seen others suffer, to learn how to suffer when suffering comes, as it will sooner or later. Those things are grief, privation, want. . . . These young gentlemen must learn to know what are hunger, thirst, and the destitution of a garret. They must look at wretched fellow-creatures, sick and noisy children. They must look at them and love them. Such a sight will pull at their heart-strings or this generation were lost. But we must never believe in the death of a young Christian soul. It is not dead but sleepeth.”<\/p>\n Ozanam then comes to the ways and means of the Society. He sends to his “dear and valued friend “the Bulletin of the Society, a guide for the formation of Conferences in Colleges, the adaptation of the Rule to their special circumstances, the visitation of the poor in their homes, in groups accompanied by a master, etc. “A share in all their good works will be added to the crown which God is preparing for Pere Pendola, and which will be awarded, I hope, at as late a date as possible.”<\/p>\n Now, Gros-Jean vent precher son<\/i> cure,<\/span>2<\/sup><\/a><\/span> <\/i>and wishes to be excused for it. “No, Father, it is not I who am preaching; it is your example, your conversation, your charity, which are preaching to me, bidding me to trust in you and to leave that good work in your hands.”<\/p>\n That letter was dated the i9th July, the Feast of St. Vincent de Paul. The reply was not long in corning. Ozanam received on the next day the following three lines, short as a telegram; it was a com\u00admunique of victory: “My dear friend, I founded two Conferences of the Society of St. Vincent de Paul on the Feast Day itself, one in my College, the other in the city.”<\/p>\n On the same day in Paris, and on the same Feast Day at the annual General Meeting of the Society, M. Cornudet, Vice-President-General, who was to deliver an address, requested the permission of the meeting to read instead a letter, which he had just received from his colleague, Ozanam. “This letter,” he said, “contains the most arresting and edifying details of a number of Italian Conferences which our dear Vice-President has had the pleasure of visiting lately.” The letter was received with every demonstration of welcome.<\/p>\n It closed with the following words: “Far from finding, my dear Brothers, matter for pride in such expansion, we shall seek to develop the spirit of humility. Grass grows rapidly, but it does not cease on that account to be insignificant; it does not say because it covers much ground, ‘ I am the oak.’ We, too, while we become numerous, remain insignificant and feeble; we do not dream of comparing our\u00adselves to institutions, which God has reared up in the Church, like mighty trees of the forest, to give shade and fruit. Let us be humble. I notice regularly that in Italy as in France, our Conferences succeed in the end in overcoming prejudices and difficulties. Now everybody is prejudiced against a new Society which thunders in the index and announces ambitious schemes. But what ill can anyone wish a few obscure men, who do not propose to do more than carry bread and consolation into a few garrets? May God preserve the simplicity which characterised our first efforts, and by that sign St. Vincent de l’aul will acknowledge us for his disciples.”<\/p>\n ” Farewell, my dear Brothers, I commend myself to your prayers of which I stand in need.”<\/p>\n Let this not be forgotten; that it had been in the service of truth that Ozanam had sacrificed his strength down to his last lecture in the Sorbonne: “As for me, gentlemen, if I die, it will be in your service.” It is likewise in the service of his Association of Charity that in Leghorn and Sienna he breathes out his last accents: “Devotion to the point of martyrdom,” the young apostle had written at twenty years of age.<\/p>\n Antignano gave the invalid some more good days. Up to the end of July, Ozanam was able to walk to the edge of the sea every evening. He was able to go every morning very slowly to Mass in the neigh\u00adbouring Church. It was a poor little Church built in the fortified enclosure which protected it against the old-time attacks of the Saracens, the terrible raiders over all that beautiful landscape.<\/p>\n He could still write an occasional letter. The memory of Lyons, of his dear city of Lyons, of his friends in Lyons, his oldest friends, haunted him with sadness and reproach, a reproach caused by his long silence. He addressed them all in the person of M. Prosper Dugas<\/span>3<\/sup><\/a><\/span> in the following note which did not wish to say farewell:<\/p>\n ” My dear friend, it is a very long time since I have given any sign of life to my friends in Lyons, and yet I have not ceased to think of them. God, Who is ever to be praised and blessed, has condemned me to enforced leisure, making me abandon my home, my occupation and my daily habits. I have had to learn how to cut out a good part of the things that bind man to earth, and I have lived a wanderer looking for health, asking it of the beneficent mountain spas, of the sea-air, of the Italian sky.”<\/p>\n ” Many of those, nay all who love me in Lyons followed me into exile with their solicitude; you have been anxious about my health, you have helped me with your prayers. I do believe that I am much indebted to the prayers of my friends, to the Holy Sacrifice offered up by many holy priests. I attribute to them the infinite consolation which I have received in my crosses from the hands of God. When He visited me with a relapse in Pisa, He surrounded me with the tenderest care. He called to my side unexpectedly the affection of many people to whom I had been a complete stranger the previous day, but who in the hour of affliction saw in me a brother.”<\/p>\n ” I have hopes that such prayers have taken Heaven by storm, and that I am on the way to a cure that seemed improbable for so long. The lovely weather and the sea air have done me untold good.”<\/p>\n ” But still the doctors’ orders confine me to the spot where I first showed signs of improvement. I am sure that you would refuse to pity me if you saw the charming slopes where I inhale the Mediter\u00adranean breezes, with my small, well-beloved family, at the feet of the Virgin of Montenero, who keeps guard, as at Fourviere, over a great Catholic city.”<\/p>\n ” Yet, my dear friends, I would give all the splendour of these Italian skies, all the perfumes of this exotic vegetation, all the magic of this beautiful language, to which I listen with such great pleasure, I would give them all to be able to revisit my humble home, to see the streamlet in my own street, the staircase of my own third storey, the books in my own library, and still more to shake the hands of my own friends in Lyons.”<\/p>\n The last letter to France was written to M. Eugene Rendu, who had announced his approaching marriage to Ozanam. The reply is dated less than two months prior to Ozanam’s death, and it is extraor\u00addinary to find his speech so merry and his imagination so playful: ” Your charming letter reached us near Florence, the city of flowers, which was indeed an appropriate spot on which to receive such a happy message. But why did it not come under the wing of a white dove? We were just then, Madame Ozanam and I, on the terrace of my cousin’s little villa below San Miniato, having at our feet that city of marble nestling in verdure.” Ozanam is replying “on a table heavy with the perfume of branches of myrtle snow-white with flowers,” which lie regrets he is unable to present to the fiancee, who would wear them with such charm! But such a symbol would be a profanity for Christians. Ozanam congratulates his friend on a perfect Christian marriage; his virtuous youth has indeed merited the spouse whom God has selected to bring him happiness and honour. “Such unions arc not common, and only those who know them can speak of them. That is why I congratulate you, my dear friend. I rejoice beforehand, as at a happy augury, at the name Amelie by which you call your com\u00adpanion. Is it also our e::ample which has induced you to select the 23rd for your wedding-day? The 23rd signifies happiness. The good wishes of your friends, the merits of your parents, are weaving a crown of happiness for you which will never fade.”<\/p>\n His last efforts to wield a pen were devoted to the Pelerinage au Pays du Cid.<\/i> But how laborious it was! Ozanam was so exhausted that he could not write three lines in succession without being obliged to rest on a couch. He saw only very few friends, such as the Ferrucci. The Abb\u00e9 Perreyve’s affecting notice of their young daughter, Rosa, has introduced that family to the knowledge of France. Notabilities of many places sought for the honour of coming into contact with the renowned Frenchman. Ozanam was grateful for their kindness, but declined their homage. One day, owing to considerations of health, he declined to see a princely person who had come in a grand carriage to pay him a visit; the same evening a poor young man from Sardinia arrived on foot from Leghorn covered with dust, to make enquiries in reference to the foundation of a Conference in his island. The invalid welcomed him with joy, summoned up all his strength and kept him for two hours by his side.<\/p>\n Two young members of the Leghorn Conference, two brothers Bevilacqua, had conceived a genuine affection for that great and holy friend, to whom all their free time was henceforth devoted. There was a continuous express service on foot on the dusty road between Leghorn and Antignano, for everything that was needed, or that delicate forethought could suggest. One day a basket of his favourite flowers would arrive for the invalid; on another, when the fever was high, a supply of ice; and a like supply the first thing the following morning. When the illness became critical, the two brothers passed the night, unknown to the invalid, in a neighbouring house, and as soon as a light in the window notified a crisis, they came forward and placed themselves at the disposal of Madame Ozanam.<\/p>\n The fishermen and peasants were also won over by the “pious stranger,” bringing him their little gifts from land or sea, with those sweet-sounding words of sympathy and friendship of which Italian holds the secret. Ozanam made a gracious acknowledgement.<\/p>\n All that affectionate anxiety, the close and continuous attention. of his doctor, the spiritual care of his confessor, the Superior of the Lazarists in Leghorn, overwhelmed him with gratitude. He re-opened his last will in order to put on record their names, and his gratitude:<\/p>\n ” Antignano, 8th August. I add here my deep and sincere acknow\u00adledgments to the brothers Bevilacqua, Dr. Prato, and the Reverend Pere Massucco, who have overwhelmed me with kindness. God alone can reward them.”<\/p>\n His strength was by this time diminishing noticeably; the limbs were swelling, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that they were able to carry him to the end of the little garden. His two brothers were notified. Charles, the doctor, hurried to him in the early days of August. Nobody, either in Paris or Leghorn, was under any illusion as to the result. One can read in a letter from the Abb\u00e9 Perreyve written during those days: “The latest news of M. Ozanam is heart\u00adbreaking. Charles, his brother, received a telegram from Madame Ozanam four days ago, stating that the dear invalid is in a state of extreme weakness. I cannot express the profound grief which that news has caused all who knew and loved M. Ozanam. What a loss to every good cause, to religion, to truth! But above all, what a loss to me!”<\/p>\n The great Feast of the Assumption was at hand. He insisted on attending Church to hear Mass and receive Holy Communion. He declined to make use of the carriage which his wife had hired from Leghorn: “It may be my last walk in this world, and I desire that it shall be to pay a visit to my God and His Blessed Mother,” and he set out leaning on the arm of her whom he called his guardian angel. The peasants, notified of his coming, were standing in groups about the Church; as, deadly pale, he passed in, every head was uncovered, and all bowed reverently; while the young women and children waved their hands to him, in the native form of salutation. He was moved to tears.<\/p>\n The old Cure of Antignano was also dying tinder the shadow of his Church. Hearing that M. Ozanam had come, and was asking for a priest to give him Ifoly Communion before Mass: “I shall go,” he said, “get me up.” They dressed him and helped him downstairs. He reached the altar of his church, which was decorated with flowers and filled with parishioners, all in their best clothes for the Feast. The husband advanced to the altar-rail supported by his wife. The old priest, himself supported on the arm of his clerk, came down from the altar and gave both the Bread of Life. It was the last oc\u00adcasion on which he discharged that sacred office; it was likewise the last Mass at which Ozanam assisted on earth.<\/p>\n His brother, the priest, had surprised him by arriving unexpectedly, never to be again parted from him. The same day he drove with him as far as the edge of the sea. “There,” he relates, “Ozanam got out and dragged his steps with great difficulty to a little promontory, where a seat had been placed for him. He fixed his gaze over the vast horizon of the Mediterranean, as if he sought to pierce the im\u00admensity of space.” That night the two brothers watched by his bed\u00adside in turn. One of them, noticing him in tears during the night, asked him: “Why do you worry yourself? Be easy in your mind. We shall soon see France.” But he answered: “Ah! my dear brother, it is not that. But when I think of my sins, for which God has suffered so much, how can I refrain from tears?” On another occasion, while he was also sad, a gentle voice said to him: “Are you then really such a great sinner?” He answered at once with em\u00adphasis: “Child, you do not understand what the holiness of God is.”<\/p>\n Ozanam did not forget the 23rd of the month, the anniversary of his happy marriage. On that morning he presented his wife with a myrtle branch in flower, which he had noted on the shore the previous evening for that purpose.<\/p>\n It was on one of such days that he wrote for her, and placed on record in his will, the following beautiful farewell verses, to be placed after his death at the foot of a picture after Fra Angelico, which he left her as a souvenir. The engraving represented angels receiving, introducing, and welcoming into Paradise the elect, whose guardians they had been in this world:<\/p>\n
\nAttend le flot sauveur qui la ramene an port;
\nEt la Madone, a qui la barque fut vou\u00e9e,
\nSemble sourde a nos voeux; et l’Enfant Jesus dort!<\/p>\n
\nNous partions, pleins d’espoir; des fleurs ornaient ton front;
\nEt bientot, pour charmer, pour bestir le voyage,
\nA la poupe s’assit un petit ange blond.<\/p>\n
\nLes vents ont ballotte notre esquif nuit et jour.
\nMais nous n’avons pas vu si cruelles tempetes
\nNi si ruder climats ou s’eteignit Famous.<\/p>\n
\nCompagne de l’exil que Dieu me prepara!
\nDeja d’un oeil clement la Vierge noun regarde.
\nTout a l’heure l’Enfant Jesus s’eveillera.<\/p>\n
\nSans peur et sans et–<\/sup>tort nous toucherous enfin
\nAu bord ou nos amis, foule ardente et charmee,
\nSignalent notre voile et nous tendent la main.<\/span>1<\/sup><\/a><\/span>\n