Chap 24 - The Interrogation

 

In this chapter, Bernadette undergoes an intense interrogation by M. Jacoment, a skeptical Commissary of Police, who aims to debunk her claims of visions at the Grotto of Massabielle. Despite his manipulative tactics and threats, Bernadette maintains her calm and consistent testimony. Her unwavering conviction and simple honesty leave Jacomet and his colleague M. Estrada, divided on whether she is deceitful or genuinely believes in her experiences. The chapter highlights the contrast between Bernadette's sincerity and the authorities' cynicism.

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THE highly intelligent man who was about to interrogate Bernadette flattered himself with the idea of obtaining an easy triumph.

He was one of those who obstinately refused the explanation given by the savants of the place.  He had no faith either in catalepsy or hallucination, or the various illusions of the morbid ecstacy.  The particularity of the statements attributed to the child, and the observations made by Dr. Dozons and many other witnesses of the scenes enacted at the Grotto, seemed to him irreconcilable with such a hypothesis.  With regard to the fact itself of the Apparitions, he did not believe, they say, in the possibility of those visions from the other world, and his detective genius, however much it was adapted to track rogues in their breach of the laws, could scarcely perhaps reach so far as to discover God behind a supernatural fact.  Being, therefore, fully convinced in his own mind that those apparitions could not but be false, he had resolved, by fair means or foul, to discover the clue to the error, and to render the Free-thinkers in authority at Lourdes or elsewhere, the signal service of branding as an imposture, a supernatural manifestation which had gained popular credit.  He had there an admirable opportunity of striking a heavy blow at the pretended authority of all the Visions of past ages, more especially should he succeed in discovering and proving that the Clergy, who so studiously kept aloof in this affair, were secretly directing it and turning it to their own advantage.

Under the supposition that God was nothing and man everything in this event, the reasoning of M. Jacomet was excellent.

On the contrary supposing that God was everything in it and man nothing, the unfortunate Commissary of Police was embarking on a most perilous voyage.

In this disposition of mind, M. Jacomet, from the very first day, had caused all the proceedings of Bernadette to be carefully watched, with the view of surprising, if possible, some mysterious communication between the youthful Seer and any member of the Clergy, whether of Lourdes itself or the neighborhood.  He had even, it seems, extended his official zeal so far as to place one of his creatures in the church with orders to keep his eye on the confessional.  However, the children who attended the Catechism, were in the habit of going to confession by rotation once a fortnight or once a month, and Bernadette’s turn, during those days, had not yet arrived.  All his conscientious efforts had therefore failed to discover any complicity in the acts of imposture which were attributed by him to Bernadette.  From this he drew the conclusion that she was acting probably alone, without altogether renouncing his suspicions, for the true agent of police is always suspicious, even when he has no proofs.  It is this which constitutes his peculiar type and his proper genius.

When Bernadette entered he fixed on her for a moment his sharp and piercing eyes, which he had the wonderful art of impregnating all at once with good-humor and unconstraint.  Habituated as he was to take a high tone with every one, he was more than polite with the poor girl of Soubirous, the miller:  he was soft and insinuating.  He made her take a seat and assumed at the commencement of his interrogatory the benevolent air of a real friend.

“It appears that you are in the habit of seeing a beautiful Lady at the Grotto of Massabielle, my poor child.  Tell me all about her.”

Just as he had said these words, the door of the apartment had been gently opened and someone had entered.  It was M. Estrade, Receveur des Contributions Indirectes, a man of importance at Lourdes and one of the most intelligent in the place. This functionary occupied a portion of the house in which M. Jacomet resided, and having been apprised, by the uproar of the crowd, of the arrival of Bernadette, had naturally felt curious to be present at the interrogatory.  He concurred, besides, with M. Jacomet in his ideas on the subject of apparitions, and, like him, believed in some trickery on the part of the child.  He used to shrug his shoulders on being offered any other explanation.  He considered things of this nature as being so absurd, that he had not even condescended to go to the Grotto to witness the strange scenes reported as taking place there.  This philosopher seated himself a little on one side, after having made signs to the Commissary not to interrupt his proceedings.  All this passed without Bernadette appearing to pay it any particular attention. 

Thus the scene and the dialogue of the two interlocutors obtained a witness.

On hearing the question of M. Jacomet, the child had directed her beautifully innocent glance towards the agent of police and set about relating in her own language, that is to say in the patois of the country, and with a sort of personal timidity which added still more to the truthfulness of her accent, the extraordinary events, with which for some days past, her life had been filled.

M. Jacomet listened to her with deep attention, still affecting an air of good-humor and kindness.  From time to time he took notes on a paper which lay before him.

This was remarked by the child but it did not cause her any uneasiness. 

When she had finished her relation, the Commissary, with increased earnestness and sweetness of manner, put to her innumerable questions as if his enthusiastic piety was interested beyond measure in such divine wonders.  He shaped all his interrogations, one after the other, without any order, in short and hurried phrases, so as not to allow the child any time for reflection.

Bernadette replied to these various questions without any trouble or shadow of hesitation, and with the tranquil composure of a person who is questioned on the aspect of a landscape or a picture immediately under his eyes.  Sometimes in order to make herself understood, she added some imitative gesture, some expressive mimicry, to supply as it were the feebleness of her expressions.  

The rapid pen of M. Jacomet had in the meantime noted, as she went along, all the answers which had been given to him.

Then it was that after having attempted in this manner to weary and perplex the mind of the child by entering into such a minute infinity of details–then it was that the formidable agent of police assumed, without passing through any intermediate state, a menacing and terrible expression of countenance and suddenly changed his tone:

“You are a liar,” he exclaimed with violence and as if seized suddenly with rage;  “you are deceiving everybody, and unless you confess the truth at once, I will have you arrested by the Gendarmes.”

Poor Bernadette was as much stupefied at the aspect of this sudden and formidable metamorphosis as if she had felt the icy rings of a serpent suddenly twisting itself among her fingers, instead of the harmless branch of a tree which she had fancied she had been carrying in her hand.  She was stupefied with horror, but, contrary to the deep calculations of Jacomet, she was not agitated.  She preserved her tranquillity as if her soul had been sustained by some invisible hand against so unexpected a shock.

The Commissary had risen to his feet with a glance at the door as if to hint that he had only to make a sign to call in the Gendarmes and send the visionary to prison.  

“Sir,” said Bernadette, with a calm and peaceful firmness, which, in this wretched little peasant-girl had an incomparably simple grandeur, “you may have me arrested by the Gendarmes, but I can only say what I have already said.  It is the truth.”

“We shall see about that,” said the Commissary resuming his seat and judging by a glance of his experienced eye that threats were absolutely powerless on this extraordinary child.

M. Estrade, who had been a silent and impartial witness of the scene described above, was divided between feelings of immense astonishment with which Bernadette’s accent of conviction had inspired him, and of admiration, in spite of himself, of the skillful strategy of Jacomet, the aim of which as it was unfolded before him, he thoroughly understood.

This struggle between such strength coupled with craft, and mere childish weakness with no other defensive weapon than simplicity, assumed a totally unexpected character.

Jacomet, however, armed with the notes which he had been taking for the last three quarters of an hour, applied himself to recommencing his interrogatory, but in a different order and in a thousand captious shapes, proceeding always, according to his method, with sudden and rapid questions and demanding immediate answers.  He had no doubt of being able by such means to drive the little girl to contradict herself, at least in some of the minor details.  Were this done, the imposture was exposed and the game was in his own hands.  But he exhausted in vain all the dexterity of his mind in the multiplied evolutions of this subtle manœuvre.  In nothing did the child contradict herself, not even in that imperceptible point, that minute iota spoken of in the Gospel.  To the same questions, in whatever terms proposed, she invariable replied, if not in the same words, at least with the same facts and in the same shade of meaning.  M. Jacomet meanwhile held out, if it was only with the object of wearying still more this artless child whom he hoped to find at fault.  He turned and twisted her account of the Apparitions into every possible shape, without being able to impair it.  He was like a wild beast trying to make an impression with its fangs on a diamond.

“Well,” said he at length to Bernadette, “I am going to draw up the report of your examination, and you shall hear it read.”  

He wrote rapidly two or three pages, frequently consulting his notes.  He had designedly introduced into certain details some variations of slight importance, as, for instance, the form of the robe and the length or position of the Virgin’s veil.  This was a new snare, but it was as useless as all the rest.  While he was reading and saying, from time to time, “That is correct is it not?” Bernadette, as simple and meek as she was unshaken, replied humbly but firmly: 

“No;  I did not say so, but so.”  

And she re-established the inexactly-stated particular in its original truth and shade of meaning.

For the most part, Jacomet contested the point.

“But you did say so!  I wrote it down at the time.  You have said so-and-so to several persons in town,” etc., etc.

“No,” answered Bernadette;  “I did not say so, and could not have said so, for it is not true.”

And the Commissary was always obliged to yield to the child’s objections.

The modest and invincible self possession of this little girl was, indeed most remarkable, and the surprise of M. Estrade, on observing it, increased.  Personally Bernadette was, and appeared to be, extremely timid, and her bearing was humble and even somewhat confused before strangers.  And yet, in anything touching the reality of the Apparations, she displayed uncommon force of mind and energy of affirmation.  When her testimony to what she had seen was in question, she gave her replies without hesitation and with undisturbed composure.  But even then it was easy to divine in her the virgin modesty of a soul which would gladly have concealed itself from the sight of every one.

It was plain to be seen that she triumphed over her habitual timidity solely from respect for the internal truth, of which she was the messenger to mankind, and from love for the “Lady” who had appeared to her at the Grotto.  She needed all the feeling of her office to enable her to surmount the innate tendency of her nature, which, under any other circumstances, was timid and disliked anything like publicity.

The Commissary betook himself once more to threats.

“If you persist in going to the Grotto, I shall have you put in prison, and you shall not leave this place until you promise to go there no more.”

“I have promised to the Vision to go there,” observed the child.  “And, besides, when the moment arrives, I am urged on by something which comes within me and calls me.”

The interrogatory, as we see, verged to a close.  It had been long, and could not have lasted less than an hour, at least.  Outside, the crowd, not without a feeling of restless impatience, awaited the coming out of the child whom they had seen that very morning transfigured in the light of a divine ecstacy.  From the apartment, in which passed the scene which we have just described, might be heard confusedly the cries, words, questions and thousand different noises which serve to form the tumult of a crowd.  The uproar seemed to increase and assume a menacing tone.  At a certain moment there was a peculiar kind of agitation in the crowd as if some one, whose presence had been greatly desired and long expected, had arrived in the midst of it.

Almost immediately, repeated knocks at the door of the house were heard, but they did not appear to affect the Commissary.

The blows became more violent.  The man who struck them shook the door at the same time and endeavored to force it.  Jacomet rose in a state of irritation and went to open it himself.

“You cannot come in here,” said he furiously.  “What do you want?”

“I want my daughter,” answered the miller, Soubirous, effecting his entrance by force, and following the Commissary into the room in which Bernadette was.

The sight of the peaceful countenance of his daughter calmed the anxious agitation of her father, and he once more subsided into a poor man of the humbler class, who could not help trembling in presence of a personage who, notwithstanding his inferior position, was, owing to his activity and intelligence, the most important and formidable man in the district.  

Francois Soubirous had taken off his Bearnois béret and was twirling it in his hands.  As nothing escaped the notice of Jacomet, he saw, at a glance, that the miller was frightened.  Resuming his air of good-humor and compassionate pity, he clapped him familiarly on the shoulder.

“Friend Soubirous,” said he to him, “take care, mind what you are about.  Your daughter is on the eve of getting herself into trouble, and is on the straight road to prison.  I am willing not to send her there this time, but only on condition of your forbidding her to return to the Grotto, where she is acting a farce.  On the first repetition of the offence, I shall be inflexible, and, besides, you know that the Procureur Impérial treats such matters earnestly.”

“Since such is your wish, Monsieur Jacomet,” answered the poor father, panic-struck, “I will forbid her to go there and her mother likewise, and, as she has always obeyed us, she will certainly not go there.”

“At any rate, if she goes there, and this scandal continues, I shall call you to account as well as her,” said the formidable Comissary, resuming his tone of menace and dismissing them by a gesture.

Cries of satisfaction were uttered by the crowd at the moment Bernadette and her father came out.  The child then returned home, and the multitude dispersed through the town.

The Commissary of Police and the Receveur being left alone, communicated to each other the impressions made on them by this strange interrogatory.

“What firm resolution in her depositions!”  exclaimed M. Estrade, who had been struck with the profound astonishment.

“What invincible persistence in her falsehood!” replied Jacomet, stupefied at having been vanquished.

“What truth in her accents!”  continued the Receveur.  “Nothing in her language or bearing bore the slightest appearance of contradiction.  It is clear she believes she has seen something.”

“What artful cunning!” rejoined the Commissary.  “In spite of my efforts she never fell into any discrepancy.  She has her story at her fingers’ ends.”

Both the Commissary and M. Estrade persisted in their incredulity regarding the actual fact of the Apparition.  But a shade of difference already separated the two negations, and this shade of difference was a gulf between them.  The one supposed Bernadette to be dexterous in falsehood, the other set her down as sincere in her illusion.

“She is artful!” said the former.

“She is sincere!” observed the latter.