– Dominique Poulain –

Many came to know Raoul Auclair through the Army of Mary. In my case it was the reverse; it was Raoul who introduced me to the Army of Mary. Twenty years ago, I began to be interested in spirituality through a somewhat unorganized reading which began with books on bogus "Buddhist metaphysics". Then my philosophy professor, an extraordinary lady, got me interested in Aristotle and Saint Thomas Aquinas, and also in contemporary writers who were of great importance to our Raoul: Réné Guénon and Léon Bloy.

One day when I was on a vacation, it was proposed to me that I help the handicapped to follow a retreat at the Foyer de la Charité (about which I knew nothing) by pushing their wheelchairs. I agreed and left for the Foyer where I learned that I myself was supposed to follow the retreat. And what enlightenment it brought ! – the discovery of the spirituality of Saint Louis-Marie Grignion de Montfort and of Marthe Robin, the rediscovery of the rosary, and so much else.

I did not rest until I had dragged my parents and friends there. At the end of a year or two this had become an established custom. One particularly enthusiastic and dynamic friend, after two retreats with our handicapped friends and a pilgrimage with them to Banneux and Beauraing as a stretcher-bearer, decided, on his return, to get us together for a weekly recitation of the rosary in his parish. It was the autumn of 1976. In the spring we (three friends) came across an enthralling work, that of Anne-Catherine Emmerich, whose volumes of the Visions we immediately bought. Then at the beginning of the summer, in the bookstore of the paper L'Homme Nouveau in Paris, I caught sight of another book dealing with Anne-Catherine: Visions d'Anne-Catherine Emmerich pour notre temps ["Visions of Anne-Catherine Emmerich for our times"]. We rushed to get that book, the author of which was a certain "Raoul Auclair", totally unknown to us.

The book enraptured us. I exclaimed that it was the most extraordinary book I had ever read. Right away we bought all of this Raoul Auclair's works that were available. It was while we were in the process of methodically devouring them that we organized the weekly rosary at my friend's parish, in Palaiseau to the south of Paris.

The rosary was announced at the end of Mass on a Sunday in November. Agreeably surprised by this Marian initiative coming from a young man of the parish, a parishioner accosted my friend when he was coming out from Mass. "I know a gentleman who lives close to here and who would be interested in your undertaking. Would you like to meet him ? His name is Raoul Auclair."

My friend was almost bowled over. He accepted the offer with enthusiasm and ran to telephone me. To me, it was like a dream. Raoul Auclair, about whom we knew nothing, was not only still alive but he lived just a few steps from us. And he invited us to his place for the following Tuesday evening !

The meeting with Raoul was an enchanting experience. He had us visit his beautiful house built according to his plans; it was filled with books and beautiful objects collected in the course of his life, for example, the amazing tableaux he himself had composed out of algae gathered from the beach. He seated us in the deep armchairs and spoke to us all evening about subjects he dealt with in his books. It was like a fairy tale – he knew, like us, Bloy and Guénon, but also Joseph de Maistre and many others. He made us enter more profoundly into the mystery of the great combat of the end of the times. When we were leaving him at quite a late hour, we noticed a paper on his desk. Its title was Marie. It was the first number of the paper published by the Army of Mary, of which we had never heard. "Yes," Raoul said,"this is a Marian work of Quebec with which I'm going to have to concern myself." He said that if we wanted to see him again soon he would be present at two celebrations, to which he invited us: the First Friday of the month at Saint-Eustache, Paris, with the "Militia of Jesus Christ", to which he likewise belonged, and a coming gathering of the Army of Mary in the chapel of the Miraculous Medal on the Rue du Bac.

Front view of Raoul’s residence at Lozère-sur-Yvette in the Chevreuse valley on the outskirts of Paris. Raoul, having studied architecture, drew up his own plans.

Raoul had a great love of flowers and every year he would carefully and artfully arrange the flowers about his residence.

So that was how one of my two friends and I got caught up in something from which we have never emerged; twenty years of life within a Marian Work in which I even had the happiness of meeting her who would become my spouse. In very truth, I do owe everything to Raoul ! In my life he was an instrument of Providence – and what an instrument!

We were to see Raoul again. But, alas, not for long. In February of 1977, only three months after our first meeting, our friend flew to Quebec, from which he would return only on the odd occasion. A widower since a year, he devoted himself full-time to the Marian Work, after having spoken of Mary for decades. "The Army of Mary will be recognized by this sign: its fidelity to Rome and to the Pope." That phrase, the motto of the Work, was underlined in one of Raoul's books written many years before the founding of the Army of Mary....

We profited as much as we could from his brief visits when he would gather together a number of friends. Then Raoul's visits to France became fewer and farther between. They were always happy surprises. On an evening, the telephone would ring; it would be Raoul on a visit to Palaiseau and he would invite me to come and dine with him. Or I would meet him at the Militia of Jesus Christ, a First Friday at Saint-Eustache, and accompany him to his place. Along the way, he would stop at a good caterer's and make some purchases for dinner ("supper" in the lingo of Quebec).

Dinner at Raoul's was always something special. In line with family tradition, he was an excellentcook. There was good fare and good wine – in quality rather than in quantity. It was always served with simplicity. But the essential was the long, rambling conversation that followed.

One evening, he said to me, "There are some `coprins chevelus' [a kind of mushroom] growing on my lawn. Would you like a mushroom omelette ?" That very simple mushroom omelette of Raoul's, made with savory mushrooms from the garden – that was something unforgettable, and each time we would meet I would remind him of it, making him laugh heartily over those memories...

Then Raoul no longer returned. We met him on each pilgrimage, to Rome, Lourdes, Paris – but he had become "Canadian". He even became – a Son of Mary ! A change of continent, a change of life.

In 1990, I crossed the Atlantic with my wife and her brother. In Quebec City, on the ground floor of an edifice across the street from 2040, 26th Street (the residence of the Army of Mary), Raoul had reconstituted his little hermitage of Palaiseau: the books, the works of art, the essential was there. Even the faithful parakeet, witness of the composition of so many extraordinary works.

Raoul did the honors at his little apartment; poured us a drink (in the European sense of the word), and also shed a tear when the time came to part....

I saw him again in Italy, during the pilgrimage to Rieti. He was expecting great "events", for him, imminent. "There's no more time!" he exclaimed. Then I saw him two years afterwards at Venice and in Austria. Failing, Raoul was now accompanied by a permanent companion. I spent half an hour conversing with him among the pigeons in Saint Mark's Square. Finally, I saw him last year in Quebec City. One could not sustain a coherent conversation with him, to such a degree did his memory betray him. But never had I ever seen Raoul so joyous. His soul was already bound for the up-yonder. His body still loitered behind among us....

"Come, good and faithful servant. Enter into the joy of your Master." At 90 years and some, Raoul merited his ticket for up there. Like his master, Léon Bloy, he departed at the moment the three knocks sounded heralding the rising of the curtain for which he had always been waiting. (Bloy, that prophet of eschatology, died on November 3, 1917, in the days of the Bolshevik Revolution, of the Balfour Declaration and of the Great Miracle of Fatima.)

A renowned writer and author of drama in the years 1960 to 1970, Raoul progressively slid into oblivion. From then on he consecrated himself to that scorned and disparaged Work for the coming of which he had prepared souls through his writings. Mary enveloped him in a cloud and took him to herself. He will continue to radiate his influence, discreetly, in the eyes of her Knights, before his works return to the forefront when the time for this will have come.

That France which he affected to want to forget, has in its turn truly forgotten him. I saw nothing in any paper. His death went unperceived by the world. How we already miss Brother Raoul ! What does it matter; in the eyes of his friends, Raoul Auclair is still among us, with his smile and his childlike regard.

Jesus said to the Angelic Doctor, "You have spoken well of me, Thomas." The Lady of All Peoples can now say to our friend, "You have spoken well of me, Raoul."

Dominique Poulain, Achères, France

January 30, 1997

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