In fact, notwithstanding the bishop’s pastoral letter, the Church had not yet taken possession by any public ceremony of these forever sacred places . This, however, was solemnly done April 4, 1864, by the inauguration and benediction of a superb statue of the Blessed Virgin, which was placed, with all the pomp usual on such occasions, in the rustic niche wreathed with wild roses, where the Mother of God had made her appearance to the daughter of man.
The weather was magnificent. The sun of early spring had risen and was progressing through the azure dome of heaven, which was not specked with a single cloud.
The town of Lourdes was dressed with flowers, banners, garlands and triumphal arches. From the high tower of the Parish Church, from all the chapels of the town, and from all the Churches of the neighborhood, joyous peals of bells burst forth. Vast multitudes had assembled to take part in the grand fête of earth and heaven. A procession such as never had been seen within the memory of man, started in order to proceed from the Parish Church of Lourdes to the Grotto of the Apparition. Bodies of troops, in all the splendor of military equipment, led the way. Immediately following them were the Brotherhoods of Lourdes, the mutual-aid societies; all the corporations of the adjoining districts, bearing their banners and Cross; the Congregation of the Children of Mary, whose flowing robes shone like snow; the Sisters of Nevers with their long black veils; the Sisters of Charity, in large white caps; the Sisters of Saint Joseph, enveloped in their dark cloaks; the religious orders of men, Carmelites and teaching Brothers of the Christian Schools, immense multitudes of pilgrims, men, women and children, not forgetting old men, in all, fifty to sixty thousand human beings, ranged in two interminable files, wound along the road, strewed with flowers, leading to the illustrious Rocks of Massabielle. At intervals, choruses of human voices and bands of instrumental music made the air resound with triumphal marches, canticles, and all the outbursts of popular enthusiasm. Lastly, bringing up the rear of this unheard-of procession, the most eminent Prelate, Monseigneur Bertrand-Sévère Laurence, Bishop of Tarbes, surrounded by four hundred priests in full canonicals, by his grand vicars, and by the dignitaries of the chapter of his Cathedral Church, marched with solemn steps, wearing his mitre and attired in his Pontifical robes, blessing with one hand the assembled people, while with the other he supported himself on his large golden crozier.
An indescribable emotion, a kind of intoxication such as is only known by Christian multitudes assembled in the sight of God, filled all hearts. In fact, the day of solemn triumph had come, after so many difficulties, so many struggles, so many obstacles. Tears of happiness, enthusiasm, and love, trickled down the cheeks of these masses of people, agitated by the breath of God.
What ineffable joy must, in the midst of this fête, have filled the heart of Bernadette, who, doubtless, marched at the head of the Congregation of the Children of Mary! What feelings of overwhelming felicity must have inundated the soul of the venerable Curé of Lourdes, as he chanted, without doubt, at the bishop’s side, the Hosanna of the Divine victory? Both of them having been partakers of the affliction, the moment was now come for both of them to be present at the glory.
Alas! Bernadette was sought for in vain among the Children of Mary; The Curé Peyramale was sought for in vain among the clergy who surrounded the Prelate. There are joys too great for earth and which are reserved for heaven. Here below, God refuses them even to his dearest sons.
At the very time when everything wore a festal air and the sun shone joyously on the triumph of the faithful, the Curé of Lourdes, attacked with a malady which was pronounced mortal, was the victim of the most terrible physical sufferings. He was lying stretched on his bed of pain, at the foot of which two religieuses connected with the hospital, prayed and watched day and night. He wished to have been lifted from his bed to have seen the grand cortege, but his strength failed him, and he had not even a passing glimpse of all its splendor. Through the closed curtains of his apartment, the joyous sound of the silvery bells only reached him like a funeral knell.
As to Bernadette, God marked His predilection for her―as is His wont to do with His elect―by causing her to pass through the grand trial of pain. While, presiding over the immense procession of the faithful, Monseigneur Laurence, Bishop of Tarbes, was going in the name of the Church to take possession of the Rocks of Massabielle and solemnly inaugurate the worship of the Virgin who had appeared to her, Bernadette, like the eminent Priest of whom we have just spoken, was brought low by sickness; and maternal Providence, fearing perhaps for her much-loved child the temptation of vain-glory, deprived her of the sight of those unheard-of fêtes, where she would have heard her own name re-echoed with acclamation by thousands of voices, and celebrated from the Christian pulpit by the ardent words of those who preached on the occasion. Too poor to receive proper attention at home, where neither she nor any of her family had ever wished to receive any pecuniary aid, Bernadette had been carried to the hospital, where she lay on the humble pallet of public charity, in the midst of poor creatures, whom this transitory world terms wretched, but whom Jesus Christ has blessed, by declaring them the inheritors of His eternal kingdom.
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