Were we not acquainted with the wonderfully varied forms of supernatural cures which have taken place since the establishment of Christianity, we might, perhaps, be tempted to believe that things were thus disposed at this moment by Providence for the very purpose of causing the proud philosophy of man to catch itself in its own nets and commit suicide with its own hands. But here, let us believe, there was no divine snare. God does not lay an ambush for any of His creatures. By its own innate strength and by means of its normal and regular developments, the logic of which is unknown to human philosophers, Truth is an eternal snare in the path of Error.
However this may be, the scientific men and the medical men of the place were eager to discover in these various cures of uncertain and doubtful complexion—which were, however, perfectly established as regarded their reality and progressive character—an admirable opportunity and happy pretext for bringing into operation a change of tactics and dexterity of manoeuvres which the increasing evidence of facts rendered absolutely necessary.
Ceasing, then, to endeavor to account for these cures by bringing forward the thread-bare theory of the effect of imagination, they boldly attributed them to the natural virtues which this singular water, lately gushed forth by the merest chance, indubitably possessed.
To offer such an explanation, was to acknowledge the reality of the cures.
Let the reader recall to his mind the commencement of this divine history, when a little shepherd-girl, going to collect fragments of dead-wood, had claimed to have seen a luminous Apparition start up before her. Let him remember the sneering of the strong-minded of Lourdes, the shrugging of shoulders at the Club, the ineffable contempt with which all these powerful minds received those childish stories as nonsense and folly. How many steps forward had the supernatural affirmation made—how many steps to the rear had incredulity, science and philosophy taken since the first events which so suddenly took place at the lonely Grotto on the bank of the Gave!
The Miracle—if we may venture to use the expression—had assumed the offensive. The Free-thinkers, formerly so fierce in their attack, now pursued by the force of facts, were reduced to an attitude of self-defense.
The representatives of Philosophy and Science were not, however, on this account less bold in their assertions, nor did they display less contempt for popular superstition.
“Well, then, be it so,” they observed, affecting a good-humored tone and the semblance of sincerity. “We allow that the water of the Grotto cures certain maladies.” What can be more simple? What need is there of Miracles, supernatural graces, and divine intervention, to explain an agency which, if not identical with, is analogous to, that of a thousand Springs, which from Vichy or Baden-Baden to Luchon, act so efficaciously on the human system? The water of Massabielle, in point of fact, possesses certain very potent mineral qualities similar to those of the Baths of Barèges or Cauterets, a few leagues higher up in the mountains. The Grotto of Lourdes has no connection with Religion, it is in the jurisdiction of medical science.
A letter,—which we take at random from among our documents,—gives a better idea than we could ourselves furnish, of the position assumed by men of science with regard to the marvelous operations of the water of Massabielle. This letter, from the pen of a very honorable physician in the neighborhood, Doctor Lary, who had not the slightest faith in any miraculous interpretation, is addressed to a member of the Faculty:
Ossun, April 28th, 1858.
“I take the earliest opportunity, my dear friend, of sending you the details you ask for, regarding the woman called Galop, of our commune.
This woman, in consequence of rheumatism in her left hand, had lost the power of holding anything with it. For instance, if she wished to wash or remove a glass, she most frequently let it fall; and if she wished to draw water, she was forced to give up the idea, as she was unable with her left hand to tighten the rope of the well. It was more than eight months since she had made her bed; and during that time, she had been obliged to relinquish spinning altogether.
“Now, since her single journey to Lourdes, where she made use of the water of the Grotto, she spins with considerable facility; she makes her bed, is able to draw water from the well, washes and carries about glasses and plates at table, and, in a word, uses this hand almost as well as the other one.
“The movements of her left hand are not yet quite so free as they were before her illness, but, compared with what they were before she used the water of the Grotto at Lourdes, there is a difference of 90 per cent.
“The woman proposes going again to the Grotto, and I shall make her promise to pay you a visit that you may convince yourself of the truth of what I now write you.
“You will find, on examining the patient, an incomplete anchylosis of the lower joint of the forefinger—this is all that remains of her complaint. If this morbid state yields to the reiterated use of the water of the Grotto, this fact will be an additional proof of the water being impregnated with alkali.
“I must now close. Believe me,
“Yours, very faithfully,
“Lary, M.D.”
This explanation having been once admitted, and held a priori as certain, the medical men displayed less reluctance in acknowledging the cures effected by the water of the Grotto, and, from that moment, they betook themselves to generalizing their thesis and to applying it almost indiscriminately to all cases, even to those which had an almost bewildering character of suddenness—a character, however, not easily reconcilable with the ordinary action of mineral waters. The learned personages of the place extricated themselves from this difficulty by attributing to the water of the Grotto extremely powerful qualities, such as had not been met with up to that period. It mattered little to them that they upset with their theories all the ordinary laws of nature, provided heaven was excluded from any share in the profits. They willingly admitted the extra-natural, in order to rid themselves of the supernatural.
There were to be found among the class of believers, certain persons of badly organized and provoking minds, who troubled with their importunate reflections, the grave explanations and transcendental theories of this learned coterie.
“How comes it,” they objected, “that this mineral spring, gifted with such exceptional power of effecting sudden cures, should have been discovered by Bernadette precisely at the time she was in a state of ecstasy, in the train of asserted heavenly visions, and, as it were, the proof of these supernatural Apparitions? How did it come to pass, that this Spring gushed forth just at the moment when Bernadette believed she heard the divine Voice commanding her to drink and to wash herself? And how is the fact to be accounted for, that this Spring, which rose suddenly before the eyes of the whole population under such astonishing circumstances, does not give water of an ordinary description, but a kind of water, which, by your own confession, has already cured so many laboring under desperate maladies, who had recourse to it, not by the advice of their medical attendants, but from simple feelings of religious faith?”
These objections, repeated in a thousand different forms, irritated the Free-thinkers, Philosophers, and Savants, beyond measure. They endeavored to parry them by answers, so truly pitiable and wretched, that they could hardly be supposed to be deceived by them themselves; but, to find any better adapted to their purpose was, truly, a difficult task.
“After all,” they said, “coffee was discovered accidentally by a goat. A herdsman found out by chance the baths of Luchon, and again a peasant, while digging accidentally, stumbled on the ruins of Pompeii. What is there so astonishing in the fact that this little girl, amusing herself in scooping out the earth during her state of hallucination, should have caused a spring to gush forth, and that this spring should turn out to be mineral and impregnated with alkali? That at that very moment she fancied she saw the Blessed Virgin and heard a voice declaring the existence of the spring, is a merely fortuitous coincidence which Superstition would gladly convert into a Miracle. That day, as has always been the case, chance did everything and was the sole revealer.
Those who believed, however, did not suffer themselves to be staggered by such logic. They had bad taste enough to consider that to explain all these things by referring them to purely accidental coincidences, was to do violence to reason under pretext of undertaking its defence. This served to exasperate the Free-thinkers, who, while acknowledging somewhat late in the day the reality of the cures effected, deplored more than ever the religious and supernatural character which the common people persisted in attributing to these strange events; and like persons in a pet, they inclined to violent measures with the view of stemming the popular current.
“If these waters have mineral properties,” they began to say, “they belong either to the State or the municipality, and no one should repair to them without medical prescription. A bathing establishment there would be a more suitable erection than a chapel.”
The scientific men of Lourdes, obliged to recognize facts which could not be gainsayed, had reached this state of mind and mood of intellect, when the Prefect’s measures relative to the objects deposited at the Grotto, and the attempt to incarcerate Bernadette on the plea of insanity—an attempt rendered abortive by the unexpected interference of the Curé Peyramale—suddenly came into play.
The great majority of cures effected by the water of Massabielle were characterized by a rapidity, nay suddenness, which plainly indicated the immediate agency of sovereign power. There were, however, some which did not present this typical and undeniably supernatural character. They were effected in a slow and progressive manner, owing to the more or less frequent applications of draughts or lotions, and keeping pace with the ordinary march of natural cures—however miraculous they might be in their original principle.
At Gez, a village in the neighborhood of Lourdes, a little boy, seven years of age, had been a remarkable instance of one of these mixed cures, which any one, according to the bent of his mind, might attribute to a special grace proceeding from God, or to the sole efforts of Nature. This child, who was called Lasbareilles, was born completely deformed with a double curvature of the back and breast bone.
His legs, which were excessively slender and almost withered, were paralyzed, owing to their extreme weakness. The unfortunate little creature had never been able to walk. He was always either lying or sitting down. Whenever it was necessary to change his position, his mother carried him in her arms. Sometimes, however, the child, resting himself on the edge of the table, or supported by his mother's hand, succeeded in standing upright and taking a few steps at the cost of violent efforts and immense fatigue. The medical man of the place had declared his inability to cure him; and seeing that the little fellow suffered from essentially organic rachitis, no remedy had been applied to his case.
The parents of the unfortunate child, having heard the miracles at Lourdes mentioned in the course of conversation, had procured some of the water from the Grotto; and during the space of fifteen days, they had, in three several instances, applied lotions to the body of the child, without any favorable result.
Their faith was not, however, on that account discouraged: if hope were banished from the world, it would truly be found again in the hearts of mothers. The fourth lotion was applied on Holy Thursday, that is to say, the first of April, 1858. On that day the child had taken a few steps alone.
These lotions had become more and more efficacious, and the child's state underwent a progressive amelioration. He had come, at the end of three or four weeks, to walk almost as well as anybody. We use the expression “almost” as he retained in his movements an awkwardness of gait which seemed to be a kind of reminiscence of his original infirmity. The emaciation of his legs had disappeared by degrees with his weakness, and his chest was almost entirely straightened. All the inhabitants of Gez, who well knew the former state of the child, attributed this recovery to a Miracle. Were they right or wrong in so doing? Whatever our own opinion may be on the subject, there is certainly much to be said on both sides of the question.
Another child, Denys Bouchet, from the market-town of Lamarque, in the canton of Ossun, had been also cured of a general paralysis in very much the same way. A young man, twenty-five years of age, Jean Louis Amaré, who was epileptic, had found his terrible malady yield entirely, but only by degrees, to applications of the water of Massabielle.
Some other analogous cases had occurred.
The enemies of Superstition had lost considerable ground in their desperate struggle against the events, which, for the last eleven or twelve weeks had brought their philosophy to bay. As it was impossible to deny the existence of the Spring, whose limpid waters were flowing magnificently before the eyes of the astonished people, so it was becoming impossible longer to deny the reality of the cures which were effected, every hour and everywhere, by the use of this mysterious water.
At first they had shrugged their shoulders at the earliest cures, confining themselves to denying them purely and simply, and to refusing, with their usual prejudice, to submit them to any kind of investigation. But the spirit of Incredulity had been very soon outflanked by the multiplicity of those admirable cures, of which we have only been able to relate or point out the smallest number. Facts obtruded themselves on their attention. They became so numerous and striking that it was necessary, at all cost, either to yield to the Miracle, or discover some natural way of accounting for these extraordinary phenomena.
The Free-thinkers then plainly saw that unless they surrendered their arms or rejected the clearest evidence, it was urgent upon them to initiate some rapid evolutions and to contrive some different tactics.
The most intelligent among this little band found that they were already somewhat late in the field, and reproached themselves with the gross blunder they had originally committed in denying prematurely and without investigation, facts which had since become patent and perfectly established, such as the gushing-forth of the Spring and the cures of many who had been notoriously pronounced incurable, but who were now to be seen by every one, going about the streets of the town in perfect health. What made the evil almost irreparable was, that these unfortunate denials of facts, since amply verified, were authentically and officially certified in all the journals of the Department.
These trifling incidents caused but little annoyance to the Prefect. He had as little faith in maladies as he had in cures proceeding from Heaven.
The attitude assumed by the Abbé Peyramale—which though not menacing was inflexible—and his determination to take a personal part in protecting Bernadette against the projected arrest, troubled Baron Massy much more than any signs of heavenly wrath. God, in a word, made him less uneasy than the Curé.
The refusal of M. Lacadé to proceed to that violent measure; his offer of resignation—a most singular circumstance on the part of so timid a functionary—the visible dissatisfaction of the Mayors of the canton, with the speech made at the Council of Revision; the symptoms of serious effervescence with which the removal of the ex-votos from the Grotto had been received; the incertitude as to whether the Gendarmes and soldiers, who, as regarded Bernadette, participated in the general enthusiasm and veneration, would passively obey the orders they might receive—all this supplied the Prefect with food for reflection. He plainly saw that, in the midst of so many unpleasant conjunctures, the incarceration of the youthful Seer might be attended with the most disastrous consequences.
It was not that he would not willingly have braved an outbreak. Some of the details we have given would lead us to imagine that such had been the object of his secret wishes. But a general rising of the population, preceded by the resignation of the Mayor, complicated by the personal interference of one of the most universally respected Priests in the Diocese, followed, in all probability, by a complaint to the Council of State of arbitrary sequestration, and accompanied by energetic protestations from the Catholic, or simply independent portion of the Press, assumed a serious character which could not fail of forcibly striking a man of so much intelligence and attachment to the duties of his office as Baron Massy.
It was, however, a bitter trial to the proud Prefect to pause in the execution of this radical measure, which he had so publicly announced on the eve of the Council of Revision; and assuredly he could not have brought himself to it, if the report furnished by the medical men had certified the madness or hallucination of the youthful Seer, instead of adducing a simple and hesitating hypothesis. Had Bernadette really been suffering from an attack of mental alienation, nothing would have been easier for the Prefect than to have ordered a second examination; nothing more easy than to have the child’s cerebral disease attested by two other doctors chosen from among the scientific notabilities of the place, and with sufficient authority, as men of learning, to impose their decision on public opinion. But M. Massy, being fully acquainted with the interrogatories to which Bernadette had been submitted, was aware that it was impossible to find any medical man in his right senses who would not acknowledge and declare, as every one else did, the child’s perfect possession of reason, her uprightness of mind and entire good faith. Before the evidence of such a situation, in presence of the moral and almost material impossibilities which unexpectedly stood up before him, the wary Prefect, notwithstanding his notorious obstinacy, found himself obliged to pause and proceed no further.
The force of circumstances condemned him to inaction. As to entirely retracing his steps and revoking the measure which had already been put into execution publicly by Jacomet at the Rocks of Massabielle, such a solution of the difficulty could never once enter Baron Massy’s mind. The removal of the various objects from the Grotto having been accomplished, was persisted in. But the youthful Seer remained free, and doubtless wholly unconscious, between the time of her morning and night prayers, of the storm which had passed over her head, but which had not burst.
The civil authority, by this abortive and never repeated attempt, certified, itself, the absolute impossibility of proving Bernadette to be laboring under the slightest cerebral derangement. By leaving the youthful Seer at large, after having attempted to shut her up, official power, in spite of itself, paid public homage to the entire soundness of her reason and her intelligence. By these badly aimed blows, Unbelief wounded herself by her own weapons, and served the very cause she claimed to attack. Let us not, however, accuse her of clumsiness. It must be difficult to struggle against evidence, and in a combat of such a nature the grossest blunders are inevitable.
However, if M. Massy modified in some respects the outline of his projects, he persisted invincibly in the ultimate object of his designs. The only concession he would sometimes make to the course of events was to abandon a means acknowledged to be useless and dangerous, in order to adopt one apparently more adapted to his purpose, and to outflank the difficulties it was impossible for him to crush or break through. In a word, if he changed his tactics, his resolutions remained unchanged. He did not retreat, he endeavored to out-manoeuvre his foe.
Now the incarceration of Bernadette was but a means. The important principle and ultimate object was the radical overthrow of Superstition, and the final defeat of the Supernatural.
M. Massy by no means ceased to hope. He had the “full assurance,” he loftily observed, of shortly coming to an end of the increasing difficulties of his situation. That he, a Prefect of the Empire, a Baron, a Massy should be vanquished by the nursery tales of a childish shepherd-girl, and confounded by the phantom of a chimerical Apparition, would have been insupportable to his pride, and appeared impossible to his genius.
If he was therefore compelled to give up the idea of having poor Bernadette shut up on the plea of insanity, in spite of the speech he delivered on the 4th of May, he was only the more on that account determined to put a stop somehow or other to the progress and encroachments of Fanaticism.
The doctrines and explanations which, for the last few days, had become the favorite theme of the Free-thinkers of those southern regions, suggested to his mind, which was already in a state of embarrassment, a new method which appeared to him truly decisive.
In order to understand how the Prefect came in a certain way to change his plan of attack, it would be well for us to glance at what was passing at that moment in the camp of those whose minds were opposed to Christianity.
While Bernadette’s lot and liberty were subject to such uncertainty, M. Jacomet, in full uniform, and wearing his scarf of office, was making the necessary preparations to execute, at the Rocks of Massabielle, the orders of the Prefect.
The report that Baron Massy had enjoined the spoliation of the Grotto had spread rapidly, and had caused much agitation in every quarter of the town. The entire population were thrown into a state of consternation, as if in the presence of some monstrous sacrilege.
“The Blessed Virgin has condescended to descend among us,” they said, “and to work miracles, and see how they receive her. It is enough to bring down the wrath of heaven.”
The coldest hearts were stirred with emotion; a mysterious effervescence displayed itself by degrees among the people and continued to increase. From its very commencement, and before the interview we have just described, the Curé Peyramale and the Priests of the town had suggested to all words of peace, and had endeavored to calm those who were most irritated.
“Dear friends,” said the Clergy, “do not compromise yourselves by disorders; submit yourselves to the law, however bad it may be. If the Blessed Virgin takes any part in all these things, she is perfectly capable of turning them all to her own glory, and any violence on your part would be a want of faith towards her and an insult to her omnipotence. Look at the Martyrs; did they revolt against the Emperor? They owed their triumph to the very fact of not having combated.”
The moral authority of the Curé was great; but those who listened to him were hot-headed, and their hearts were indignant. Everything depended on the merest chance.
The religious objects and ex-votos deposited at the Grotto formed a considerable mass, and were too heavy to be transferred to the town by hand. M. Jacomet repaired to the Poste, kept by M. Barioze, to procure a cart and horses.
“I do not lend my horses for such purposes,” replied the Post-master.
“But you cannot refuse your horses to any one who is willing to pay for them!” exclaimed M. Jacomet.
“My horses are intended for the service of the Post, and not for business of this nature. I do not wish to have anything to do with this proceeding. Bring an action against me, if it suits you to do so. I refuse to let you have my horses.”
The Commissary went elsewhere. At all the hotels, at all the livery stables, which were pretty numerous at Lourdes, owing to its proximity to the different bathing places, at the houses of private individuals, to whom he addressed himself in despair, he met with similar refusals. His situation was truly a cruel one. The population, agitated and quivering with emotion, watched him thus going, to no purpose, from house to house, and were spectators of his successive disappointments. He heard the murmurs, the laughter and the bitter gibes of the crowd. The eyes of all scowled upon him as he pursued his painful and fruitless course across the squares and through the streets of the town. In vain did he successively increase the sum of money he offered for the loan of one horse and cart. He had been refused it by the very poorest, though he had offered as much as thirty francs, and the distance to the Grotto was inconsiderable.
The crowd, on hearing the sum of thirty francs mentioned, compared it with the thirty pieces of silver.
At length, at the house of a farrier, he found a girl who, for the sum offered, lent him what he needed.
When the multitude saw him issue from this house with the cart and horses, they were the more indignant, as the venal complaisance of the proprietor could not be excused by the urgency of want. The family were not poor.
Jacomet proceeded in the direction of the Grotto. The Sergents de Ville drove the cart. An immense crowd followed them. They were silent, sombre and uneasy, as if they felt in themselves the accumulation of the awful electricity of a thunder-storm.
In this manner they reached the Rocks of Massabielle. As the cart could not be driven up to the very spot, it was halted at some little distance.
Under the vaulted roof of the Grotto there were tapers burning here and there, placed in candlesticks, adorned with moss and ribbons. Crosses, statues of the Virgin, religious pictures, necklaces and jewels of various kinds rested on the ground or in the cavities of the rock. In certain places, carpets had been spread under the images of the Mother of God. Thousands of bouquets had been carried there in honor of Mary by pious hands, and the earliest blossoms of the month of flowers diffused their fragrance and embalmed this rural sanctuary.
In one or two willow baskets and on the ground there glittered copper, silver, or gold pieces.
The sight of this act of material violence, the spectacle of this man striking the wood with the axe, produced more effect on the multitude than anything that had occurred before and was followed by a menacing explosion. The Gave was close at hand, deep and rapid in its course, and a few moments of égarement would have been sufficient to have induced the crowd—in one of those irresistible paroxysms of rage to which crowds are sometimes subject—to hurl the unfortunate Commissary into its waters.
Jacomet turned round towards them and showed his countenance pale and distracted.
“What I am doing,” he said, with apparent regret, “I am not doing of my own accord, and it is with the greatest regret that I find myself obliged to put it into execution. I am acting in obedience to the orders of the Prefect. I must obey the higher authorities, however much it may cost me. I am not responsible for this and you must not bear any grudge against me.”
Some voices from among the crowd exclaimed:
“Let us remain calm and abstain from violence; let us leave everything in the hands of God.”
The advice and activity of the Clergy produced their fruits, and there was not any disorder. The Commissary and the Sergents de Ville drove the cart without any obstacle to the Mayoralty, where they deposited all the articles they had collected at the Grotto. The money was handed over to the Mayor.
In the evening, for the purpose of protesting against the Prefect’s measures, an innumerable multitude repaired to the Grotto, which was suddenly filled with flowers and illuminated. Only, in order to obviate the seizure of the tapers by the Police, should they come for that purpose, every one held his own in his hand, and, on his return, carried it back to his own house.
The next day much sensation was caused among the people by the occurrence of two events.
The girl, who had lent M. Jacomet the cart and horse, fell from the top of a hay-loft and broke one of her ribs.
The same day, the man who had lent the Commissary the axe for the destruction of the balustrade at the Grotto, had both his feet crushed by the fall of a beam which he wished to place on his bench.
To the eyes of the Free-thinkers this appeared to be an irritating and untoward coincidence. The multitude regarded the double accident as a punishment from Heaven.
The attitude of energy assumed by the Curé of Lourdes, who was known to be incapable of giving way when what he considered to be his duty was at stake, introduced into the question an element hitherto overlooked, though it might very easily have been foreseen.
In the case of any measure emanating from the Administration, the intervention of the Procureur Impérial was not required, and it was only from friendly motives that M. Dutour had accompanied M. Lacadé to the residence of the Abbé Peyramale. All the onus of the decision to be taken weighed, therefore, on the Mayor.
M. Lacadé was perfectly certain that the Curé of Lourdes would infallibly act as he had said. As to attempting a surprise and arresting Bernadette suddenly, without the knowledge of the Pastor, it was not to be thought of, now that the Abbé Peyramale was forewarned and had his eyes open. We have just mentioned the impressions which the Mayor experienced in presence of the Supernatural rising all at once before him. The apparent impassibility of the municipal magistrate did but mask the excessive anxiety and agitation of the real man.
He communicated to the Prefect the conversation which M. Dutour and himself had just had with the Curé-doyen, as also the behavior and words of the man of God. The arrest of Bernadette, he added, might, further, in the then state of public feeling, rouse the town and provoke an indignant revolt against the constituted authorities. As to himself, in consequence of the determination so formally expressed by the Curé, and fearing the terrible consequences which might ensue, he regretted to find himself forced to refuse—even if he were obliged to resign the honors of the Mayoralty—to take any personal part in the execution of such a measure. It was for the Prefect, if he saw good, to act himself, and to have the arrest effected by a direct order to the Gendarmerie.
Although M. Lacadé, Mayor of Lourdes, avoided giving his own opinion on the extraordinary events which were occurring, he had been deeply impressed by them, and it was not without a certain degree of terror that he saw the Administration having recourse to such violent measures. He was in a terrible state of perplexity. He did not know what attitude the people might assume. It is true the Prefect had announced the possibility of sending a squadron of cavalry to Lourdes to maintain the tranquillity of the town when the arrest should have taken place; but that very fact caused him no little uneasiness. The supernatural aspect of the question and the Miracles also filled him with alarm. He did not know exactly how to act, placed as he was between the authority of the Prefect, the force of the people and the power from on high. He would have gladly made some compromise between earth and heaven. To keep up his courage, he addressed himself to the Procureur Impérial, M. Dutour; and the two went together to the residence of the Curé of Lourdes to communicate to him the order for the arrest of Bernadette which had emanated from the Prefecture. They explained to the Abbé Peyramale how, according to the wording of the law of June 3, 1838, the Prefect was acting in the plenitude of his legal rights.
The Priest was unable to restrain himself from a burst of indignation at the cruel iniquity of such a proceeding, though it might be actually possible in conformity with some one of the innumerable laws produced at some time or other by the second-hand Lycurguses who have been cast on the strand of the Palais-Bourbon by the flowing and ebbing tides of our twelve or fifteen political revolutions.
“This child is innocent!” he exclaimed, “and the proof of it is, that, in your capacity of Magistrate, Sir, you have never been able, in spite of your various interrogations, to find a pretext for an attempt at prosecution. You know that there is not a Tribunal in France but would acknowledge her innocence, which is as clear as the sun at noonday; that there is not a Procureur-Général, who would not only, under such circumstances, declare this arrest to be monstrous and have it cancelled but would even protest against a simple action at law.”
“This being the case the Magistracy does not act in the matter,” replied M. Dutour. “The Prefect, on the report furnished by the medical men, has Bernadette shut up on the plea of derangement, and this for her own good, in order that her cure may be effected. It is a simple administrative measure, which has nothing to do with Religion, since neither the Bishop nor the Clergy have pronounced any opinion officially on all these events, which are taking place entirely independently of them.”
“Such a measure,” rejoined the Priest, becoming warm as the discussion proceeded, “would be the most odious of persecutions; so much the more odious from the fact that it assumes the mask of hypocrisy, affects to wish to afford protection, and conceals itself beneath the cloak of legality, while its real object is to strike a blow at a poor defenceless being. If the Bishop and Clergy, including myself, are waiting for more light to be thrown on these occurrences, in order to pronounce on their supernatural character, we, at least, know enough to judge of Bernadette’s sincerity, and the soundness of her intellectual faculties. And since your two medical men do not certify the existence of any cerebral affection, in what respect are they more competent to judge of madness or good sense than any one of the thousand visitors who have put questions to the child, and who have all agreed in admiring the entire lucidity and normal character of her mind. Your doctors themselves dare not make a positive affirmation, and only conclude with a hypothesis. The Prefect cannot have Bernadette arrested on any plea whatever.”
“It is a legal proceeding.”
“It is unlawful. As Priest, as the Curé-doyen of the town of Lourdes, I have a duty towards all, and more especially the weakest. If I saw an armed man attack a child, I would defend that child at the peril of my life, for I know the duty of protecting others, which is incumbent on a good Pastor. Be assured, I would act in the same manner even if the man were a Prefect, and his weapon were a bad clause of a bad law. Go, then, and tell M. Massy that his Gendarmes will find me on the threshold of the door of this poor family, and that they will have to lay me low, to pass over my body and trample me under their feet before they touch a hair of this little girl’s head
“However”—
“There is no however in the case. Examine, institute investigations; you are at full liberty to do so, and everybody invites you to do so. But if, instead of this, you wish to persecute, if you wish to strike the innocent, know well that before you reach the last, and the least among my flock, it is with me you must begin.”
The Priest had risen from his chair. His tall figure, his strongly-marked features, the plenitude of strength for which he was remarkable, his resolute gestures, and his countenance burning with emotion, supplied a commentary to his words and stamped their character upon them.
The Procureur and the Mayor were silent for an instant. They afterwards mentioned the measures relative to the Grotto.
“As far as the Grotto is concerned,” replied the Priest, “if the Prefect wishes, in the name of the laws of the Nation, and in that of his own private piety, to strip it of the various objects which innumerable visitors have deposited there in honor of the Blessed Virgin—let him do so. Believers will be sorry and even indignant. But let him not be alarmed; the inhabitants of this country know the respect due to Authority, even when it strays from the right path. It is said that at Tarbes a squadron of cavalry, with their horses saddled and bridled, are only waiting a signal from the Prefect to hasten to Lourdes. Let the squadron dismount.
“However warm the heads of my people may be, however ulcerated their hearts, they listen to my voice, and I answer for their tranquillity without any armed force. With an armed force, I am no longer responsible for them.”
