ON her arrival in the town Bernadette found that the multitude had streamed there in advance of her in order to observe her next proceedings.
The child passed down the road which traverses Lourdes and served to form its principal street: then stopping in the lower part of the town, before the boundary wall of a rustic garden, she opened its gate, which was painted green, with an open railing, and directed her steps toward the house to which the garden belonged.
The crowd, actuated by a feeling of respect and decorum, did not follow Bernadette, but remained outside.
Humble and simple in appearance, her poor garments patched in many places, her head and shoulders covered with her little white capulet of the coarsest material; having in a word no external sign of a mission from on high―with the exception perhaps of the royal mantle of poverty which Jesus Christ himself bore―the messenger of the divine Virgin, who had appeared at the Grotto, had just entered the abode of the venerable man, in whom, in that out-of-the-way part of the world and for this child, the infallable authority of the Catholic Church was personified.
Although it was still early the Curé of Lourdes had already finished saying his Office.
We know not whether at the moment he was about to hear for the first time the voice of this poor shepherd-girl, so insignificant in the eyes of the flesh and the world, but so great perhaps in the judgment of Heaven, his memory recalled to him the various words he had just pronounced that very day at the Introit and Gradual of the Mass: “In medio Ecclesiæ aperuit os ejus . . . . . Lingua ejus loquitur judicium. Lex Dei ejus in corde ipsius.” “His lips have spoken in the midst of the Church. His tongue hath said that which is just. The law of God is in his Heart.”
The Abbé Peyramale, although, as a faithful and pious son of the Church, fully convinced of the possibility of the Apparitions, experienced some difficulty in believing in the divine reality of this extraordinary Vision which, according to the statement of a child, was making itself manifest on the banks of the Gave, in a grotto, hitherto unknown, of the Rocks of Massabielle. He would doubtless have been convinced by the aspect of her ecstacy; but he had seen nothing of all these things save through the eyes of strangers, and great doubts existed in his mind respecting the reality of the Apparitions in the first place, and secondly as regarded their divine character. The Angel of Darkness truly transforms himself at times into an Angel of Light, and in such matters a certain uneasiness is quite warrantable. Besides he deemed it necessary to test the sincerity of the youthful seer himself. He there received Bernadette with an expression of mistrust which amounted even to severity.
Although, as we have already stated, he had kept himself aloof from what had been taking place and never in his life spoken to Bernadette―who besides had only recently been added to his flock―she was known to him by sight, some persons having pointed her out to him a day or two before, when she happened to be passing in the street.
“Are you not Bernadette, the daughter of Soubirous?” said he to her, when, having crossed the garden, she presented herself before him.
The eminent priest, whose portrait we have sketched had all the familiarity of a father with his parishioners, more especially with the little children belonging to his flock. Only on that day was the tone of the Father severe.
“Yes, it is I, Monsieur le Curé,” replied the humble messenger of the Virgin.
“Well, Bernadette, what do you want of me? What are you coming to do here?” he rejoined somewhat harshly, glancing at the same time at the child with an expression of cold reserve and severe scrutiny, eminently calculated to disconcert a soul which might not have much confidence in itself.
“Monsieur le Curé, I come on the part of the ‘Lady’ who appears to me at the Grotto of Massabielle.”
“Ah, yes,” observed the priest, cutting her short, “you pretend to have visions, and you draw everyone after you with your fabrications. What is all this? What has happened to you within the last few days? What is the meaning of all these strange things you affirm without bringing forward anything in proof of them.”
Bernadette was grieved, perhaps in her innocence, surprised at the severe bearing and almost harsh tone assumed by the Curé on receiving her, as he was usually so kind, paternal and mild with his parishioners, more especially with the little ones.
She however related simply all the facts already known to the reader, and though she was heavy at heart, her tale was told without agitation and with a calm self-possession of truth.
This man of God could rise superior to all his personal prejudices. Accustomed from long practice to read the hearts of others, he inwardly admired, while she was speaking, the wonderful character of truthfulness in this little peasant-girl, recounting in her rustic language occurances of so marvelous a nature. Through her limpid eyes, behind her candid countenance, he perceived the profound innocence of her highly privileged soul. It was impossible for one of his noble and upright nature to hear that accent of truth and survey those pure and harmonious features, so stamped with goodness, without feeling himself inwardly prompted to believe the words of the child, who was then speaking.
The incredulous themselves, as we have already explained, had ceased to arraign the sincerity of the youthful Seer. In her state of ecstacy, Truth from above seemed entirely to illuminate her and enter within her. In her accounts of what had happened, Truth seemed to proceed from her person and spread it radiance around, filling the hearts of others with new ardor and scattering, like vain clouds, the confused objections of the intellect. This extraordinary child, in short, had around her brow as it were an aureole of sincerity, which was visible to the eyes of pure souls and even to those of an opposite kind, and her words were gifted with the power of expelling doubt.
In spite of M. Peyramale’s unbending and decided character, in spite of his strength of mind and intellect, in spite of his profound distrust, his heart was strangely stirred with an emotion which seemed inexplicable by the accents of Bernadette, who was so much spoken of and to whom he was now listening for the first time. This man, notwithstanding his strength, felt himself vanquished by this all-powerful weakness. However, he had too much self-command and was too prudent to allow himself to be carried away by an impression which, after all, might deceive him. As a mere individual, he would probably have said to the child, “I believe you.” As Pastor of a vast flock, over which he was placed as the guardian of the truth, he had determined to surrender only to visible and palpable proofs. Not a muscle of his face betrayed his inward agitation. He was able to preserve his harsh and severe expression of countenance towards the child.
“And you do not know the name of this Lady?”
“No,” replied Bernadette. “She did not tell me who she was.”
“Those who have faith in your statements,” rejoined the Priest, “imagine that it is the Blessed Virgin Mary. But are you aware,” he added with a grave and vaguely menacing voice, “that if you falsely pretend to see Her in this Grotto you are on the high road never to see Her in Heaven? Here, you say you alone see Her. Above, if you lie in this world, others will see Her, and, in punishment of your deception you will be forever far from Her, or for ever in hell.”
“I know not whether it is the Blessed Virgin, Monsieur le Curé,” replied the child; “but I see the Vision as I now see you, and She speaks to me as you are doing now. And I come to tell you from Her that She wishes a chapel to be erected to Her at the Rocks of Massabielle, where she appears to me.”
The Curé gazed on this little girl while she was intimating to him this formal demand with such perfect assurance; and, in spite of his previous emotion, he could not repress a smile at this strange message when taken in connection with the humble and childish appearance of the embassadress from heaven. The emotion of his heart was succeeded by a thought taking possession of his mind that the child was laboring under a delusion, and doubt reassumed the upper hand.
He made Bernadette repeat the very terms employed by the Lady of the Grotto.
“After having confided to me the secret which regards me alone and which I cannot reveal, She added: ‘And now go to the Priests and tell them I wish they would erect a chapel to me here.’ ”
The Priest remained silent for a moment. “After all,” he thought, “it is possible!” And this thought that the Mother of God was sending a direct message to himself, a poor unknown priest, filled him with trouble and agitation. Then he fixed his eyes on the child and asked himself, “What guarantee have I of the truth of this little girl and what is there to prove to me that she is not the sport of some error?”
“If the ‘Lady’ of whom you speak to me, is really the Queen of Heaven,” he replied, “I should be happy to contribute, so far as my means will allow, to the erection of a chapel to Her; but your word is not a certainty. Nothing obliges me to believe you. I do not know who this ‘Lady’ is, and before busying myself with her wishes, I would need to know whether she has a right to make this demand. Ask her then to give me some proof of her power.”
The window happened to be open and the Priest glancing downward into the garden perceived the arrest of vegetation and the momentary death produced among the plants by the hoar-frosts of winter.
“The Apparition, you tell me, has under its feet a wild rose tree, an eglantine, which grows out of the rock. We are now in the month of February. Tell her from me that if she wishes the Chapel, she may cause the wild rose to blossom.” Saying which he dismissed the child.
