James Kent Stone
Father Fidelis of the Cross, C.P.
Reflections of His Descendants
by L. Denis de Cazotte
When Father Robert Carbonneau asked me to write a reflection on how our family remembers Father Fidelis I hesitated because none of his living descendants ever knew him. Yet he was one of my great-grandfathers. My brother Jacques and I heard of him by our grandmother of course, and by our father. We also read the Smith's biography and An Awakening and what followed. Would the radiance of his huge personality allow me to describe the impact he had on our parents, and even on the lives of those who haven't met him such as Jacques, his children and I?
There were these eyes, these keen penetrating eyes, that seemed to be popping out of the portrait, a photograph behind our grandmother's shoulder, as Jacques and I, small children, were playing at her feet in her bedroom. We often looked at the severe face. Rather, I should say, he was watching us! There was something disconcerting about it, almost daunting. Unlike the numerous other pictures hanging on the walls or sitting on the piano, this one was striking. At first we couldn't understand what made it so. Then it became clear that there was an inherent contradiction between the habit, a monachal robe with a shield representing the instrument of the Christ's passion, and the face. It was the portrait of a priest who looked like a general! We couldn't but ask our grandmother: "Who was that priest?"
Each time the answer was identical: "A good God loving man, a member of our family. One that you should respect." She would then adroitly change the conversation to some game we were playing or lead us to the dining room for tea. This was during the nineteen twenties and early thirties in Paris at our grandmother's apartment along the Seine river. Forgetting our question we would stuff ourselves with those wonderful pastries.
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