OUTSIDE the events and the Miracles themselves, the mandate of the Bishop of Tarbes was the center of attack. Philosophy, in virtue of the infallibility of its dogmas, was indignant at the idea of investigation, scientific study and experiments. “When an individual, laboring under hallucination, sends a paper on perpetual motion or squaring the circle to the Academy of Sciences, the Academy passes to the order of the day without losing its time in examining fabrications of the kind. There is no place for investigation when Miracles are in question; in the name of reason, Philosophy passes to the order of the day. To examine supernatural facts, would be to admit their possibility and by so doing repudiate our own principles. In such matters proofs and evidence go for nothing. We do not enter into discussions on what is impossible, we shrug our shoulders and there is nothing to be said.” Such was the theme on which turned―in a thousand different forms―the ardent and exasperated polemical discussion of the irreligious portion of the press. In vain did it obstinately persist in denials and misrepresentations; it dreaded any investigation. False theories delight in resting on the fleeting waves and indistinct mists of pure speculation. By I know not what instinct of self-preservation, they shrink from broad day-light and dare not descend with firm step on the broad plain of experimental method. They have a foreboding that defeat awaits them there.
In this desperate struggle against the evidence of facts and the rights of reason, the skin-deep liberalism of the Journal des Débats peeled off and fell, like theatrical varnish, leaving visible, with scarcely any attempt at concealment, the ground-work of furious intolerance which is concealed beneath the stately phrases of philosophy. The Journal des Débats, in an article from the pen of M. Prévost-Paradol, displayed its alarm beforehand at the immense range which the Report of the Commission and the verdict of the Bishop would infallibly have, and he made that his starting-point to appeal to the secular arm and to conjure Cæsar to put a stop to the whole matter. “It is evident,” said he, “that a striking manifestation of the divinity in favor of a certain form of worship is a high testimony to its peculiar truth, its superiority to all the rest, and to its incontestable right to the government of souls. It is therefore an event of a nature calculated to bring in its train numerous adhesions, whether as regards dissenters or unbelievers; in a word, it is an instrument of proselytism.” He put in a strong light the political importance of the result of the inquiry. “If this decision is favorable to the Miracle, it tends to a certain point, to break in that part of France the balance between the religious and the civil power. The Ministers of a form of worship in favor of which such prodigies are authenticated are vastly different personages from those anticipated, organized and placed under certain regulations by the terms of the Concordat. They have an influence of quite another nature over the population, and in case of any collection they dispose of it with an authority totally different from that of the Council of State and of the Prefect.
“We have sufficiently proved,” continued the writer in the Débats, “the importance which, in several points of view, the decision of the Episcopal Commission of Tarbes must necessarily have. Now, there is here a truth which we should bear in mind, and of which M. de Morny has just reminded the Council-General of Puy de Dôme with justifiable urgency. It is that nothing of importance can be legally done in France without the previous authorization of the Administration. If a stone cannot be moved, as M. de Morny well remarked, or a well dug without the consent of the administration, how much more necessary must its consent be in order to establish a Miracle or found a Pilgrimage. Anyone who is conversant with religious matters, and particularly with the opening of temples, or of schools of dissenting communes, knows perfectly well that the administrative authority has not one plea, but ten; not one article of the law, but twenty or thirty which confer on it supreme power in such matters. The meeting of the Commission of the Diocese of Tarbes may be prevented or dissolved in a hundred ways by the Concordat, by the penal Code, by the law of 1824, by the decree of February 1852, by the central authority, by the municipal authority, by all the authorities possible. Further than this, the decision of this Commission when promulgated may be annulled in reality by the legal opposition of the administrative authority to the erection of a chapel or to the licensed use of the marvelous water. The same authority has the power of prohibiting and dispersing all assemblages of persons, and of prosecuting their instigators, etc.” Having reached this point, having warned Cæsar, and cried out lustily his caveant consules, the crafty writer resumed―for form’s sake―his mantle of liberalism. “What are we aiming at,” he observed hypocritically, “in establishing this preventive right of the Administration? Is it to exhort it to avail itself of it? God forbid?” And he thus rejoined, by a back door, the ranks of the friends of liberty.
In the departments, the journals tamely re-echoed those of Paris. The battle was commenced everywhere and by all. The sergeants, corporals, the rank and file of literature stepped to the front in the wake of the Marshals of Free-thought. At Tarbes, the Ère Impériale, inspired by the Prefect, rammed his carbine with arguments fresh from Paris, and fired close to the muzzle, every second day, at the Supernatural. The little Lavedan, itself, had found a few grains of powder―terribly damped, it is true by the water of the Grotto―and assisted, it is said, by Jacomet, exerted itself to level at the Miracle its hebdomadal pistol, which regularly misfired once a week.
The Univers, the Union, the majority of the Catholic journals supported the universal shock gallantly. Powerful talents placed themselves at the service of Truth, which was still more powerful. The Christian press re-established the reality of History and put to flight the miserable quibbles of philosophical fanaticism.
“In face of the unexplained occurrences to which a supernatural character is attributed by the faith of the credulity of the multitude, the civil authority,” observed M. Louis Veuillot, “has―without information, but also without success―decided the question in the negative. The spiritual authority is now interfering in its turn; it is its right and its duty. Before judging, it seeks information. It has instituted a Commission, a kind of tribunal of investigation, in order to discover facts, study their nature, and to determine their character. If they are true, and possess a supernatural character, the Commission will say so. If they are false, or only produced by natural causes, it will state this. What more can our adversaries desire from us? Would they have the Bishop abstain, at the risk of slighting a grace which God might deign to grant to his diocese, or in the other case, suffer a superstition to strike its roots deep into the hearts of the faithful?
“The Bishop cannot fail to have remarked the strangeness of this conviction, which is establishing itself among a whole people, on the word of a poor illiterate little girl. He must have asked himself the question―How came these cures, which are said to be effected by a few drops of pure water, either employed as a lotion or drank by the sufferers? And if there were in reality no cures, it is necessary for us to know why it was so generally believed that they had taken place. Now, supposing that the water is pure, as the chemists say, and that nevertheless the cures are certain, as has been affirmed up to the present time by many invalids and some doctors, we do not see any difficulty in recognizing in this supernatural and miraculous agency, with all due deference to the explanations offered by the Siecle.”
This vigorous polemical writer faced all his enemies at the same time. A stroke of his pen was sufficient to upset the absurd prejudice of denying Miracles altogether, and of refusing even an examination of those astounding facts which whole multitudes saw with their eyes and proclaimed on their knees. “If M. Guéroult were told that, in the name of Christ, a great miracle was being performed on the Place de la Concorde, he would not go to see it. He would do well, since he is determined to remain incredulous; before such a spectacle he would not be certain of finding such a natural explanation as would dispense him from going to confession. But he would do better to see the Miracle and believe, yielding to the testimony which God, in His mercy, might be willing to give him. In either case, we would have him to understand that the crowd would not be much troubled at his absence, and would experience no uneasiness at hearing him declare that what had been seen was the simplest thing in the world and that the crowd was merely suffering from hallucinations. Things would pass in Paris exactly as at Lourdes. There would be a general cry that a Miracle had taken place, and, if it really was a Miracle, the Miracle would produce its effect; in other words, that many men who have not hitherto sought to decipher the divine will, or have not succeeded in doing so, would know it and put it in practice; they would love God with all their heart and all their soul and all their mind, and their neighbor as themselves. Such is the end God would attain by Miracles. Woe to those who refuse to profit by them.”
“Those who reject the Supernatural,” observed one of the ancients, “sap the foundations of all philosophy. They do so, in fact, and especially since the advent of Christianity, because wishing to withdraw God from the world, they are left without any explanation of the world or of humanity. This God whom they exclude, some deny His existence, in order to get rid of Him altogether; others banish Him into vacuity, as exacting nothing and having nothing to exact from mankind, whom he abandons to chance, after having created them in a freak of his disdainful power. Some, denying and affirming His existence at the same time, as if they wished to glut their ingratitude by a double insult, pretend to discover Him everywhere, which dispenses them from acknowledging and adoring Him anywhere. However, around them and within themselves, humanity cries aloud and confesses God. They answer with sophisms, which do not really satisfy them, and by sarcasms, the compass of which they, with difficulty, hide from themselves; and lastly, their science and their reason, driven into absurdities, stop their eyes and their ears. They sap the foundations of philosophy. Does God, compassionating the faith of the weak, which these false Doctors would abuse, show Himself by one of those unusual strokes of his power, which does not on that account cease to be one of the laws of the world? They reject it. Look! We do not wish to see! David has said of the sinner, “He has sworn in his heart to sin; he refuses to understand lest he should be forced to do well.
“Ah! doubtless,” exclaims elsewhere the indignant logician, “there exists a miserable crowd at whom all these common-places may be boldly flung; but there are also, even at Lourdes, readers whose good sense rebels and asks what becomes of history, palpable facts and right and simple reason in systems of the kind, ‘with their decision to refuse all examination, and their negation a priori.’ ”
“As to preventing the Episcopal Commission from performing its duties, we doubt if there are laws conferring this power on the State; if there are, the wisdom of the State should abstain from putting them in force. On the one hand nothing could be more favorable to the growth of Superstition; popular credulity would go astray to its heart’s content, for ‘there is no law which can oblige the Bishop to pronounce his judgment on a fact of which he cannot know anything, and of which he is even forbidden to know anything.’ The enemies of Superstition have only one thing to do, which is to institute a Commission themselves, have a counter-investigation, and publish its result; provided, of course, that the Episcopal Commission concluded in favor of the Miracle. For, if it came to the conclusion that the facts were false or only produced by illusion there was nothing more to be said on the subject.”
In the midst of the great excitement of the public mind, the Catholic press displayed truly admirable reserve, in refusing to pronounce any judgment regarding what had occurred at the Rocks of Massabielle and the miraculous cures. It did not wish to anticipate in any way the decision of the Episcopal Commission. It confined itself to refuting calumnies, gross libels and sophisms, to maintaining the grand historical thesis of the Supernatural, and to reclaiming, in the name of reason, the rights of investigation and the liberty of intelligence.
“The occurrences at Lourdes,” observed the Univers, “have not yet been either verified or stamped with any decided character. They may arise from miraculous agency, or from a mere illusion. The debate will be settled by the Bishop’s decision.
“As regards ourselves, we think we have replied to whatever has been advanced seriously or merely speciously, respecting the affair at Lourdes. Here we shall pause. It was not our part to allow the press to incrust these facts with all the lies it could invent; it would not be our part to reply to the derision which it has showered so unsparingly upon them. Wise men will appreciate the wisdom and good faith of the Church, and as is usually the case, after all this disturbance, Truth will obtain the world her little nucleus of adherents,―pusillus grex― which is, however, sufficient to maintain the reign of truth in the world.
We see that, in this vast polemical war, which was stirred up on this grand question of Miracles owing to the events at Lourdes, the two camps were animated with the most opposite spirit.
On the one side, the Catholics appealed for a fair investigation; on the other, the pseudo-philosophers dreaded the approach of light. The former said “Let an inquiry be instituted;” the latter exclaimed, “Let all debates be cut short!” The motive of one party was liberty of conscience; while the other entreated Cæsar to suppress by violence this religious movement, and to stifle it, not by force of argument, but by the brutality of power.
Everyone of impartial mind, placed by his ideas or position outside the mêlée, could not but perceive in the clearest point of view that justice, truth, and reason, were on the side of the Catholics. For this, it was sufficient not to be blinded by the fury of the struggle or force of prejudice.
Although the Administration, in the person of a Commissary, a Prefect, and a Minister, had unfortunately played a most foolish part in this grave affair, there existed one powerful man who had never acted in it, and who, whatever might be his religious, philosophical, and political ideas, was in a condition to decide with perfect impartiality. The fact of the Supernatural having manifested itself or not at the gates of Lourdes, was a matter of utter indifference, as far as his schemes and the progress of his own affairs were concerned. Neither his ambition, nor his vanity, nor his doctrinal views, nor his antecedents, were pledged on either side of the question. Where is the mind, which, in such circumstances, would not deal equitably, and give reason and justice their due? Men do not violate Justice and outrage Truth, except when they deem it of utility to trample them under foot, in view of some powerful interest connected with fortune, ambition, or pride.
The man of whom we are speaking was called Napoleon III, and was by chance, Emperor of the French.
Impassible as was his wont, mute as the sphinxes of granite which guard the gates of Thebes, he followed the polemical combat, watching the fluctuations of the battle, and waiting until the conscience of the public, so to say, dictated to him his decision.
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