Book 4 - Part 1

 
On the second of March, Bernadette repaired anew to the residence of the Curé of Lourdes, and spoke to him a second time in the name of the Apparition.

“She wishes a chapel to be erected, and processions to the Grotto to be organized,” said the child.

Events had crowded, the Spring had gushed forth, cures had been effected and miracles had supervened to bear witness, in the name of God, to Bernadette’s veracity. The priest had no further proofs to demand, and he demanded none. His conviction was settled, and thenceforth no doubt could touch his heart.

The invisible “Lady” of the Grotto had not declared her name. But, the man of God had not failed to recognize Her in Her maternal kindness and, perhaps, he had already added to his prayers,—“Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us.”

Notwithstanding, however, the secret enthusiasm with which his ardent heart had filled on seeing the great things which had been done, he had with rare prudence succeeded in withholding the premature expression of the deep and sweet sentiments which agitated him, at the thought that the Queen of Heaven had descended amid the humble flock of his parishioners; and, he had not cancelled the formal prohibition of going to the Grotto which he had imposed on his Clergy.

“I believe you,” said he to Bernadette, when she presented herself to him anew. “But, what you demand of me in the name of the Apparition, does not depend on myself; it depends on the Bishop, whom I have already apprised of all that is passing. I am about to go to him and acquaint him with this fresh application. He alone can act in this affair.”

Book 3 - Part 12

In the evening of the same day, a time usually devoted to amusement after the cares of business, the enemies of superstition assembled in great force at the club and round the tables of the cafés, and great agitation pervaded their Sanhedrim.

“There has never been a spring of water in that place,” exclaimed one of the most strong-headed of the party. “It is but a pool of water, formed, I know not how, by some accidental infiltration, and which must have been discovered by the merest chance by Bernadette when she stirred up the ground. Nothing is more natural.”

“Evidently,” they answered on all sides.

“Nevertheless,” some one ventured to observe, “they pretend that the water flows.”

“Not the least in the world,” exclaimed several voices. “We went there ourselves: it is nothing more nor less than a pool of water. The common people with their usual exaggeration, pretend to say that the water flows. This is not true; we put the thing to the test yesterday, on the first rumor reaching us, and it is nothing but a muddy puddle.”

These assertions were looked upon as satisfactory and consistent by the philosophic and learned world. It was the official version of the story, and was received as certain and incontestible. So credulous are even the incredulous in whatever seems to help their own arguments, so completely do the followers of Free Examination discard anything like investigation in matters of this nature, and so obstinate are they in maintaining the grounds they have once taken, even when disproved by facts themselves, that, six weeks after this period, and in spite of the crushing evidence of the existence of a copious fountain, which as every one might prove for himself, supplied more than 25,000 gallons of water a day, this absolute denial of any spring of water, this impudent version of the puddle, passed current and was even boldly printed in the journals of the Free-thinkers. This would be hardly credible, if we did not give a proof of it at random, extracted from the official journal of the department.

With regard to the asserted cures, they were denied unprovisionally, as had been the case with the Spring of water. All of them, without any exception, were unconditionally rejected with shrugging of shoulders and loud laughter, as indeed had been that of Louis Bourriette.

“Bourriette is not cured,” said one.

“He was never sick,” replied another.

“He imagines he is cured; he believes he sees,” insinuated a young man of the school of M. Renan.

“The effect of the imagination on the nerves is sometimes surprising,” rejoined a physiologist.

“There is no such person as Bourriette in existence,” exclaimed sturdily a new arrival, striking at once at the root of the question.

The attitude assumed by the philosophical heads of the place was summed up in these four or five formularies, as far as these extraordinary cures, so much bruited among the common people, were concerned.

It was a matter of astonishment to them that such grave and highly educated men as M. Dufo, who was then president-elect of the Order of Barristers, as Doctor Dozon, as M. Estrade, as the Commandant of the Garrison, as the retired Intendant Militaire, M. de Laffitte, should have displayed such inconceivable weakness as to allow themselves to be deluded by all that was taking place.

In the course of this day so pregnant with events, Bernadette had been summoned to the chamber of the Tribunal, either before or after the sitting of the court, and the dialectics brought into play by the Procureur Impérial, the Substitut and the Judges had not been more successful in producing any variation or contradiction in her story than the genius of M. Jacomet, in spite of his long experience in the Police.

The Procureur Impérial, followed by his Substitut, had pronounced his own opinion in the matter some days before and nothing could shake the firmness of his mind. He deplored this invasion of fanaticism and was determined to discharge his duty energetically. Owing to I know not what circumstances, and as is seldom the case in such immense assemblages, no disorder arose, and the laudable zeal of the Procureur Impérial was doomed to a state of complete inaction and to an attitude of expectation. In the midst of this vast movement of men and ideas which stirred up the whole country, it would seem if an invisible hand protected those innumerable crowds and hindered them from giving, even innocently, the slightest pretext for the forcible interference of the law-officers, police or civil administration. Whether they liked it or not, these formidable personages had at least for the time their hands tied, and they were not to be untied until the moment when the mysterious Apparition of the Grotto had completed her work. These multitudes then could come with perfect security; these multitudes so vast to the bodily eye which saw them meeting from every side of the horizon so insignificant to the spiritual eye after comparing them with the millions of men destined to repair to the same spot in the future as a place of pilgrimage. An invisible ægis seemed to defend from all danger those first witnesses whom the Blessed Virgin had summoned: “Nolite timere, pusillus grex.”

The enemies of Superstition applied most urgently to the Mayor of Lourdes in order to induce him to issue an order prohibiting all access to the Rocks of Massabielle, which formed part of the public lands belonging to the commune. Such an order, they thought, would inevitably be infringed in the then excited state of popular feeling and would give rise to innumerable proceedings. It would be resisted and resistance would be followed by arrests, and if the judicial authority, including that of the police and the administration, could once take the matter in hand, it would easily carry everything before it, as it would be supported by all the powers of the State.

M. Lacadé, Mayor of Lourdes, was a most upright and excellent man and had deservedly acquired the general respect of the public. Every one in the town of Lourdes did justice to his rare personal qualities, and his enemies—or such as were jealous of him—never reproached him with anything worse than a certain timidity which prevented him from taking a decided course between extreme parties, and a somewhat too great attachment to his functions as Mayor, though, as every one allowed, he discharged them in a decidedly superior manner.

He refused to issue the order which was solicited from him.

“I do not know where the truth lies in the midst of so much clamor,” he replied, “and it is not for me to pronounce either for or against. As long as there is no disorder I let things take their course. It is for the Bishop to decide the question, as it regards religion; it is for the Préfet to decide measures which are in the jurisdiction of the Administration. For myself, I wish to keep clear of the whole business, and I shall only act in my capacity of Mayor on the express order of the Préfet.”

Such, if not the very language, was the import of his reply to the worrying applications urged upon him by the Philosophers of Lourdes, who, as regarded christian belief, resembled in that respect the philosophers of all times and places. The pretended liberty of Thought rarely tolerates the liberty of Belief.

Since the gushing forth of the Spring the Apparition had not re-iterated her command to Bernadette to go to the Priests and demand from them the erection of a chapel. On the next day, as we have already related, the Vision had not manifested herself, so that, since that moment, Bernadette had not made her appearance at the presbytery. The Clergy, notwithstanding the rising tide of popular faith and the increasing rumors of miracles which were spread by the multitudes, continued to remain strangers to all the manifestations of enthusiasm which took place around the Grotto.

“Let us wait patiently,” they said. “In human affairs it is enough to be prudent once. In things pertaining to God our prudence should be seventy-fold.”

Not a single priest therefore appeared in the ceaseless procession which was repairing to the miraculous Spring of water. Owing therefore to the Clergy having made a point of keeping aloof, and to the municipal authorities refusing to act and oppose their veto, the popular movement had free course and was always on the increase, like the rivers of their country at the period of the melting of the snow. It overflowed on all sides, perpetually advancing and covering the surrounding country with its innumerable waves. The advocates of repression began to feel how powerless they were to resist a current of such formidable strength and to see clearly that all opposition would be swept away like a dyke of straw by this sudden and mighty irruption. They were forced to resign themselves to allow free passage to these multitudes which had been invisibly upheaved and put in motion by the breath of God.

At the Grotto the greatest order was maintained, notwithstanding so vast a concourse of people. They continued drawing water from the Fountain, singing canticles and devoting themselves to prayer.

The soldiers of the Garrison, agitated in common with all the people of the country, had requested permission from the Commandant of the fort to repair, themselves, to the Rocks of Massabielle. With the instinct of discipline developed in their case by military system, they took measures of their own accord to obviate obstructions, to leave certain passages free and to prevent the crowd from approaching too near to the dangerous banks of the Gave, stationing themselves for this purpose on both sides of the river and assuming spontaneously a certain amount of authority, which no one, as was reasonable, dreamt of disputing.

Some days passed by in this manner, during which the Apparition manifested herself without any new peculiarity except that the Spring of water was always increasing in volume and the miraculous cures effected by it were multiplied more and more. There was a moment of profound astonishment in the camp of the Free-thinkers. The facts were becoming so numerous, so amply proved and so patent that almost every moment the ranks of the incredulous suffered from desertion. The best and the most upright among them suffered themselves to be gained by the evidence adduced. There remained, however, an indestructible number of minds arrogating to themselves superior strength, but whose strength in point of fact consisted in rejecting all proofs and refusing to give way to truth. This would appear impossible did not every one know that a great part of the Jewish people resisted the miracles even of Jesus Christ and His Apostles, and that four centuries of miracles were necessary to open the eyes of the pagan world.

Book 3 - Part 11

 
Although doubtless very few persons in the crowd instituted comparisons of this nature, the idea that the waters of the Spring which had gushed forth at the Grotto might have the power of healing the sick, must have suggested itself to the mind of every one. From the morning of the same day, a rumor of several marvelous cures began to spread in all directions. Amid the contradictory versions which were being circulated, and taking into consideration the sincerity of some, the exaggeration voluntary or involuntary of others, the flat denial of many, the hesitations and uneasiness of a great number, the emotion of all, it was difficult at the first moment to distinguish truth from falsehood among the miraculous facts which were asserted on all sides, told as they were in different ways, with great blunders in names and confusion of persons, to say nothing of mixing up the circumstances of several episodes differing from and foreign to each other.

Did you ever in one of your country walks, throw suddenly a handful of corn into an ants’ nest? The terrified ants run from one side to the other in an extraordinary state of agitation. They keep coming and going to and fro, crossing each other, running against each other, alternately stopping and resuming their course, suddenly changing the point towards which they were running, picking up a grain of corn and leaving it there, and wandering in every direction in a state of feverish disorder, a prey to indescribable confusion.

Very similar was the conduct of the multitude, both of inhabitants and strangers at Lourdes, in the state of stupefaction into which they were thrown by the superhuman wonders which reached them from Heaven. Such is always the conduct of the natural world, when it is suddenly visited by some manifestation from the supernatural world.

By degrees, however, order is restored in the ants’ nest, and its momentary agitation ceases.

There was, in the town, a poor workman known by every one; who, for many years, had dragged out a most miserable existence. His name was Louis Bourriette. Some twenty years before, a great misfortune had befallen him. As he was working in the neighborhood of Lourdes, raising stone with his brother Joseph, who was also a quarryman, a mine owing to some mismanagement had exploded close to them. Joseph was killed on the spot, and Louis, of whom we are now speaking, had his face ploughed with splinters of rock, and his right eye half destroyed. His life had been saved with the greatest difficulty. He suffered so terribly from the results of this accident, that he was attacked with a burning fever, and for some time force was obliged to be employed to keep him in his bed. However, he recovered by degrees, thanks to the skill and devoted care of those who attended him. But, the medical men, in spite of the most delicate operations and masterly treatment, failed entirely in effecting the cure of his right eye, which had unfortunately been injured internally. The poor man had returned to his occupation of quarryman, but he was no longer fit for any thing but the coarsest style of work, as his wounded eye was utterly unserviceable, and he could only see objects as it were through an impenetrable mist. When the poor workman wished to undertake any work requiring more than usual care, he was obliged to apply for assistance to others.

So far from time having brought any amelioration in his condition, his sight had diminished from year to year. This progressive deterioration had become still more sensible, and at the time we have now reached in our history, the evil had made such progress that his right eye was almost entirely lost. When Bourriette closed his left eye, he could not distinguish a man from a tree. The man and the tree were to him only a black and confused mass, scarcely perceptible as in the obscurity of night.

Most of the inhabitants of Lourdes had given Bourriette employment at one time or other. His state excited pity, and he was much liked by the brotherhood of quarrymen and stone-cutters, who form a numerous class in that part of the country.

This poor creature hearing about the miraculous Spring at the Grotto, called his daughter.

“Go and bring me some of this water,” he said. “Blessed Virgin, if she it is, has but to will my cure in order to effect it.”

Half an hour afterwards, the child brought him, in a basin, a small quantity of the water which, as we have explained above, was still dirty and impregnated with earth.

“Father,” observed the child, “it is only muddy water.”

“That does not matter,” replied the father, addressing himself to prayer.

He bathed with the water his weak eye, which he but a moment before considered gone forever.

Almost immediately he uttered a loud cry, and began to tremble in the excess of his emotion. A sudden miracle had been accomplished in regard to his sight. The air had already become clear around him and bathed in light. Nevertheless, objects appeared still as if surrounded with a light gauze, which hindered him from seeing them perfectly.

The mist was still before his eyes, but it was no longer dark as it had been for the last twenty years. It was penetrated by the sun, and instead of thick night it was to the eyes of the poor sick man, as the transparent vapor of morning.

Bourriette continued to pray, and at the same time washed his right eye with the salutary water. By degrees the light of day flooded his sight and he distinguished objects clearly.

Next day or the day after, he happened to meet on the public square of Lourdes with Doctor Dozons, who had never ceased to attend him since the commencement of his malady. He ran towards him saying, “I am cured.”

“Impossible,” exclaimed the Doctor. “Your organ of sight is injured to such an extent as to render your cure out of the question. The treatment I have prescribed for you is only intended to soothe your pain, but can never restore you the use of your eye.”

“It is not you who have cured me,” replied the quarry-man with emotion, “it is the Blessed Virgin of the Grotto.”

The man of human science shrugged his shoulders.

“That Bernadette has ecstasies of an inexpressible nature, is certain; for I have devoted unwearied attention to establishing that fact. But it is impossible that the water, which, how I know not, has gushed forth at the Grotto, should cure suddenly maladies which are in their very nature incurable.”

On saying this he took a little tablet out of his pocket and wrote a few lines with a pencil on one of its pages.

Then with one hand he closed Bourriette’s left eye, which was still serviceable, and presented to his right eye, which he knew to be entirely deprived of sight, the little sentence he had just written.

“If you can read this I will believe you,” said the eminent physician with an air of triumph, strong as he felt himself to be from his extensive knowledge and profound medical experience.

Many persons who happened to be walking on the square at the time had formed a group around them.

Bourriette glanced at the paper with the eye, the sight of which but just now was extinct, and read immediately and without the slightest hesitation:

“Bourriette has an incurable amaurosis from which he can never recover.”

Had a thunderbolt fallen at the feet of the learned physician it could not have stupefied him more than did the voice of Bourriette as he read calmly and without any effort the single line of small writing which was lightly traced in pencil on the page of the tablet.

Doctor Dozons was more than a merely scientific man, he was by nature conscientious. He frankly recognized and unhesitatingly proclaimed the agency of a superior power in this sudden cure of a malady deemed to be incurable.

“I cannot deny it,” he said; “it is a miracle, a true miracle, with all due deference to myself and my brethren of the faculty. This has quite upset me; but we can but submit to the imperious voice of a fact so clear and so entirely beyond the range of poor human science.”

Doctor Vergez, of Tarbes, Fellow and Professor of the Faculty at Montpellier, and resident Physician at the Baths at Baréges, being summoned to pronounce his opinion in the case, could not prevent himself from recognizing, and that in the most undeniable way—its supernatural character.

As we have already observed, Bourriette’s state had been notorious for upwards of twenty years, and the poor man himself was universally known in the town. Besides, this marvelous cure had not caused the disappearance of the deep traces or scars which the accident had left on his face, so that every one had it in his power to verify the miracle which had just been accomplished. The poor quarry-man, almost mad with joy, recounted all the particularities of the event to any one who cared to listen to him.

He was not the only one who openly bore witness to an unexpected good fortune and loudly proclaimed his gratitude. Events of a similar nature had taken place in other houses in the town. Several persons residing at Lourdes, Marie Daube, Bernard Soubie, Fabien Baron, had all at once quitted their sick-bed, to which maladies of different kinds, but all pronounced incurable, had confined them, and they proclaimed publicly their cure by the water of the Grotto. The hand of Jean Crassus, which had been paralyzed for ten years, had become straightened again and recovered all the vigor of life in the miraculous water.

Thus the accuracy of facts succeeded, among the different accounts in circulation, to the vague rumors of the first moment. The enthusiasm of the people was raised to the highest pitch, an enthusiasm at the same time touching and sound, which in the church expressed itself in fervent prayers, and around the Grotto in the canticles of thanksgiving which burst from the joyful lips of the pilgrims.

Towards evening, a great number of workmen belonging to the association of quarry-men, of which Bourriette was a member, repaired to the Rocks of Massabielle and laid out a path for visitors in the steep declivity near the Grotto. Before the hollow from which the spring now bubbled forth, they placed a balustrade formed of wood, beneath which they dug a small oval reservoir, about half a metre in depth, and in shape and length not very unlike an infant’s cradle.

The enthusiasm was momentarily increasing. Vast throngs were perpetually passing to and fro on the road leading to the miraculous spring of water. After sunset, when the first shadow of night began to fall on the earth, you might perceive that the same thought had occurred to a throng of believers, and the Grotto was all at once illuminated with a thousand lights. Rich and poor, children, men and women had brought spontaneously candles and tapers. During the whole night, this clear and mild light might be seen from the opposite side of the Gave. Thousands of small torches placed here and there without any apparent order seemed to give back on earth the glittering lustre of the stars with which the firmament of heaven was so thickly studded.

Neither priests nor pontiffs nor leading men of any kind were to be found among those masses of people; and yet, without any one having given any signal, the moment the illumination lighted up the Grotto and the rocks, and shed a trembling reflection on the little reservoir of the miraculous Spring, the voices of all rose at the same time and mingled with each other in a chant, which seemed to proceed from a single soul. The Litany of the Blessed Virgin burst on the ear, interrupting the silence of night to celebrate the memory of our admirable Mother, in front of the rustic throne on which in her wisdom she had deigned to appear in order to crown the hearts of all Christians with joy.

Mater admirabilis, Sedes Sapientiæ, Causa Nostræ lætitiæ ora pro nobis.

 

Before the Apparitions at Lourdes, little Bernadette had received almost no religious instruction. She had not yet learned the catechism, and the prayers she knew were very few. Besides the Rosary, her simple treasury of prayer was the Our Father, the Hail Mary, the Apostles’ Creed, and the Glory Be.

Book 3 - Part 10

This absence on the part of the Virgin was, doubtless, intended to maintain Bernadette in a state of humility and in the consciousness of her own nothingness; but, in addition to this, it contained, perhaps, for christians, a high and mysterious precept, the import of which will not escape the attention of souls accustomed to contemplate and admire the secret harmony which exists in works proceeding from God.

If heaven, on that day, had closed itself to the eyes of Bernadette, if the celestial Creator, who used to appear to her in visible flesh, had seemed to vanish for a moment, the Fountain—proof of the reality and power of that superhuman Being—which had sprung forth the day before, and was continually increasing, was visible to the eyes of all, and trickled on the sloping floor of the Grotto in sight of the astonished multitude.

The Vision had withdrawn in order to allow her work, so to say, to speak. She had withdrawn and remained silent in order to allow an opportunity of speaking to the Church of that country, whose words at the introit of the Mass and at the answers of Matins, might serve as a commentary on this singular fountain which had suddenly started into existence from beneath the hand of Bernadette in her state of ecstacy.

While in fact all this was taking place at the Grotto, before the miraculous Spring which had burst forth on the right side of the arid rock, the memory of another Spring—the most illustrious and life-imparting of all those which for the last six thousand years have watered the heritage of Adam—was being celebrated in the diocese of Tarbes, and in several dioceses of France. That day, February the 26th, 1858, being the Friday of the first week in Lent, was the Feast of the Holy Lance, and of the Nails of Our Lord. And the Spring of which we speak and the memory of which was then being glorified in the Office prescribed for the diocese, was the great divine Fountain which the lance of the Roman centurion, piercing the right side of the lifeless body of Christ, had made to flow as a river of life for the regeneration of earth and the salvation of the human race. “Vidi aquam egredientem de templo a latere dextro; et omnes ad quos pervenit aqua ista salvi facti sunt.” “I saw water flowing from the temple on the right side, and all to whom that water came were saved.” Such was the exclamation of the Prophet, when he contemplated the prodigies of the mercy of God in the dim vista of ages. “In that day,” said the priests in the Office of Matins, “there shall be a fountain opened for the house of David and for the inhabitants of Jerusalem, which shall serve to purify the sinner and all such as are polluted.”

By these coincidences, wonderful in themselves and which we urgently beg our readers to verify for themselves in the places pointed out in the note, did the Church of that place reply with dazzling clearness to the innumerable questions proposed around the marvelous Fountain which was spouting forth its waters on the right side of the Grotto. The Spring of water which had just made its appearance at the base of the Pyrenees, derived its source, by some mysterious process of infiltration, from that vast stream of divine Grace which, under the Nails of the soldiers and the Lance of the centurion, had begun to flow eighteen hundred years ago from the summit of Mount Golgotha.

Such was the original principle to which we must retrace our steps, in order to discover the hidden origin of the miraculous Spring, and it was well that the Offices celebrated at its starting point, at the very place where it had pierced the earth, should of themselves lead the mind towards these mystic heights. With regard to the practical results and external effects which were to be produced abroad by this mysterious fountain, their interpretation and secret were naturally not to be sought at its centre and starting-point, nor in the confined circle, and at an exceptional feast of a particular diocese, but rather, in the universal Offices which the Catholic, Apostolic, and Roman Church was at that moment celebrating throughout the Christian world. Now, this very day, February 26th, 1858, being the Friday of the first week in Lent, the Gospel appointed for the Mass contained the following words, which need no comment:

“Now, there is at Jerusalem a pond called Probatica which, in Hebrew, is named Bethsaida—having five porches. In these lay a great multitude of sick, of blind, of lame, of withered, waiting for the movement of the water. And an angel of the Lord went down at a certain time into the pond, and the water was troubled. And, he that went down first into the pond, after the motion of the water, was made whole of whatever infirmity he lay under.”

Bernadette's Four Prayers

Book 3 - Part 9

The popular emotion had considerably increased. Bernadette, when she passed, was received with acclamation, and the poor child used to return home with all possible speed in order to escape their ovations. This humble soul, which, up to that time, had lived entirely unknown, in silence and solitude, found itself all at once placed in a blaze of light, in the midst of uproar and of the crowd, on the pedestal of fame. This glory, which so many court so eagerly, was to her a martyrdom of the most cruel description. Her most insignificant words were commented on, discussed, admired, rejected, made the subject of scoffs—in a word, abandoned to the different currents of human opinion. It was then she tasted the heartfelt joy of having something she was not to divulge, and of finding, in the three secrets imparted to her by the Virgin, a kind of secluded sanctuary to which her heart might retire with a sense of perfect peace, and refresh itself in the shade of that mystery, and with the charm of its intimate union with the Queen of Heaven.

As we have already remarked, the outburst of the Fountain had taken place towards sunrise in the presence of a numerous assemblage. It was the 25th of February, the third Thursday of the month, and a great market-day at Tarbes. The news, therefore, of the marvelous occurrence of the morning at the Rocks of Massabielle, was carried to the town by a multitude of eye-witnesses, and before night had been spread through the whole Department, and even as far as the nearest towns of the neighboring departments. The extraordinary movement, which, for the last eight days, had attracted to Lourdes so many pilgrims and others, urged by mere curiosity, was from that moment developed to a most surprising degree.

A great number of visitors came to sleep at Lourdes in order to be on the spot next day; others walked all through the night, and at break of day, the usual hour of Bernadette’s arrival, five or six thousand persons, closely packed on the banks of the Gave, the neighboring eminences and the rocks, were encamped in front of the Grotto. The Spring had considerably increased in volume since the previous day.

When the youthful Seer, humble, peaceful and simple in manner in the midst of so much commotion, presented herself in order to pray, the cry of “There is the Saint! There is the Saint!” arose from the vast throng. Several persons sought to touch her garments, regarding as sacred everything pertaining to one so privileged by the Lord.

It was not, however, the will of the Mother of the humble and the lowly that this innocent heart should succumb to the temptation of vain glory, and that Bernadette should, for one moment, be puffed up with pride on account of the singular favors she had received.

It was well that the child should feel, in the midst of such acclamations, her own nothingness, and realize once more how powerless she was, when left to herself, to evoke the divine Vision. It was in vain she prayed. The superhuman radiancy of ecstacy was not observed diffusing itself over her features; and, when she rose, after her long prayer, she replied, in a tone of sadness to the interrogations showered upon her, that the Vision from on high had not appeared.

Bernadette's Four Prayers

Book 3 - Part 8

Precisely at that hour, at the very moment the Spring was gushing softly but irresistibly from beneath the child’s hand, in testimony, as it were, of the divine intervention, the Philosophers of Lourdes published a new article on the occurrences at the Grotto in the Free-thinking journal of the locality.

The Lavedan, a newspaper we have already quoted, had been issued, and was in process of distribution just at the moment of the return of the amazed multitudes from the Rocks of Massabielle.

Neither in this article nor in the preceding one, nor, indeed, in any of the descriptions of the place written at that time, was there the slightest hint of the existence of any Spring at the Grotto. And thus incredulity had paralyzed beforehand the audacious assertion that the Spring had always flowed there, to which the Free-thinkers might, after a certain time, be tempted to have recourse.

It was the will of Providence, that, in addition to the testimony of the public, these men should have their own articles, their own printed publications, which their dates rendered authentic and beyond refutation, brought again against them.

If these beautiful gushing waters, which delight the eye to-day, had been in existence before the 25th of February, before the scene we have just described was enacted, and the orders and indications given by the Virgin to Bernadette in her state of ecstasy, how came it that the editors of the papers, who were always supposed to keep their eyes open, and whose details were sometimes so minute—how came it that they never saw this copious spring nor ever once mentioned it?

We defy the Free-thinkers to produce a single document—we repeat, the words, a single document—which makes any mention of a Spring, or even of any water, before the period when the Virgin commanded and Nature obeyed.

Book 3 - Part 7

The night had ended the agitations of so many minds so differently influenced, some believing in the reality of the Apparition, others remaining in a state of doubt, while a certain number persisted in denying the fact.

Day was about to break, and the universal Church, over all the surface of the Globe, was murmuring in the interior of Temples, in the silence of solitary Presbyteries, in the peopled shade of Cloisters, beneath the vaulted roofs of Abbeys, Monasteries and Convents, those words of the Psalmist in the Office of Matins: Tu es Deus qui facis mirabilia. Notam fecisti in populis virtutem tuam. . . . Viderunt te aquæ Deus, viderunt te aquæ, et timuerunt, et turbatæ sunt abyssi.

“Thou art the God who workest marvels. Thou hast shown forth Thy power in the midst of the multitudes. . . . The waters saw Thee, O Lord, the waters saw Thee, and they trembled in Thy presence and the depths were troubled.”

Bernadette, having arrived before the Rocks of Massabielle, had just knelt down.

An innumerable crowd had preceded her to the Grotto and pressed around her. Although there were there a good number of sceptics, of such as denied the truth of the Apparition, and of others who came merely from motives of curiosity, a religious silence suddenly prevailed as soon as the child had been perceived. A shudder had passed through the crowd like a shock of electricity. All, by a unanimous instinct, the incredulous as well as believers, had uncovered their heads. Several had kneeled down at the same time as the daughter of the miller.

At that moment the divine Apparition manifested Herself to Bernadette, who was suddenly transported into her marvelous ecstacy. As was always the case, the radiant Virgin stood in the oval excavation of the rock, and her feet rested on the wild rose.

Bernadette contemplated her with an inexpressible sentiment of love, a sentiment sweet and deep, which overflowed her soul with delight, without at all disturbing her mind or causing her to forget she was still upon earth.

The Mother of God loved this innocent child. She wished, by a still closer intimacy, to press her yet more to her bosom; She wished to strengthen still more the bond which united Her to the humble shepherd-girl, in order that the latter, amid all the agitations of this world, might feel, so to say, every moment, that the Queen of Heaven held her invisibly by the hand.

“My child,” she said, “I wish to impart to you, always for you alone, and concerning you alone, a last secret, which, as with the other two, you will never reveal to any one in the world.”

We have explained further back the profound reasons which formed, out of these intimate confidences, the future safeguard of Bernadette, amidst the moral dangers to which the extraordinary favors, of which she was the object, must inevitably expose her. By this triple secret, the Virgin clothed her messenger, as it were, with armor of three-fold strength against the dangers and temptations of life.

Bernadette, in the exceeding joy of her heart, listened, in the meanwhile, to the ineffable music of that voice so sweet, so maternal, so tender, which, eighteen hundred years ago, had charmed the filial ears of the Infant-God.

“And now,” rejoined the Virgin, after a short silence, “go and drink from, and wash yourself in the Fountain, and eat of the herb which is growing at its side.”

Bernadette, at this word “Fountain,” gazed around her. There was, and never had been, any Spring in that spot. The child, without losing sight of the Virgin, betook herself quite naturally towards the Gave, whose tumultuous waters were rushing a few paces from there, across pebbles and broken rocks.

A word and a gesture from the Apparition arrested her in her course.

“Do not go there,” said the Virgin; “I have not spoken of drinking from the Gave; go to the Fountain, it is here.”

And stretching out Her hand—that delicate yet powerful hand—to which nature submits, She showed with her finger to the child, on the right side of the Grotto, the same parched corner towards which, but the morning before, She had made her ascend on her knees.

Although she saw nothing in the place pointed out to her which appeared to have any connection with the words of the divine Being, Bernadette obeyed the command of the heavenly Vision. The vaulted roof of the Grotto sloped downwards on this side, and the little girl scrambled on her knees the short distance she had to traverse.

On reaching the end, she did not perceive before her the least appearance of a fountain. On the face of the rock there sprung here and there some tufts of that herb belonging to the Saxifrage family, which is called la Dorine.

Whether it was owing to a new sign from the Apparition, or to an inward impulse of her soul, Bernadette, with that simple faith so pleasing to the heart of God, stooped down, and, scratching the ground with her tiny hands, began to scoop out the earth.

The innumerable spectators of this scene, as they neither heard nor saw the Apparition, did not know what to think of this singular operation on the part of the child. Many already began to smile, and to believe in some derangement of the poor shepherd-girl’s brain. How little is needed to shake our faith.

All at once the bottom of this little cavity dug by the child became damp. Arriving from unknown depths, across rocks of marble and the bowels of the earth, a mysterious water began to spring up, drop by drop from beneath the hands of Bernadette, and to fill the hollow, about the size of a goblet, which she had just completed.

This water, newly come mixing itself with the earth broken by Bernadette’s hands, formed at first nothing but mud. Three times did Bernadette essay to raise this muddy liquid to her lips; but three times was her feeling of disgust so strong that she rejected it, feeling she had not the power of swallowing it. However she wished, before everything else, to obey the radiant Apparition who towered over this strange scene; and the fourth time, making a grand effort, she surmounted her repugnance. She drank, she washed herself, and she ate a morsel of the wild plant which grew at the foot of the rock.

At that moment the water of the Spring overleaped the brim of the little reservoir hollowed by the child, and proceeded to flow in a slender stream, more slender, perhaps, than a straw, towards the crowd which was pressing on the front of the Grotto.

This stream was so extremely small that for a long time—until the close, in fact, of that day—the parched earth sucked it up entirely on its passage, and you could only guess its progressive course by the damp line, like a ribbon, which was traced on the ground, and which, increasing in length by degrees, advanced at an extremely slow rate towards the Gave.

When Bernadette had accomplished, as we have related above, all the mandates she had received, the Virgin gazed at her with an expression of satisfaction, and, a moment afterwards, She disappeared from her sight.

The multitude were greatly excited by this prodigy. As soon as Bernadette emerged from her state of ecstasy, all rushed towards the Grotto. Every one wished to see with his own eyes the little hollow from which the water had gushed from beneath the hand of the child. Every one wished to dip his handkerchief in it and raise a drop of it to his lips. So this infant spring, in consequence of the gradual enlargement of its reservoir by the crumbling in of the earth, assumed, in a short time, the appearance of a puddle of water or of a liquid mass of wet mud. The Spring, however, seemed to increase in volume as water was drawn from it, and the orifice through which it gushed from the depths below became visibly larger.

“It was some water which must have accidentally dripped from the rock during the rainy season, and which, and that, too, accidentally, must have formed a little pool, under the ground which the child has also accidentally discovered,” said the savants of Lourdes.

And the philosophers remained perfectly satisfied with this explanation.

The next day, the Spring, urged by an unknown power from the mysterious depths, and perceptibly increasing in volume, gushed from the ground more abundantly.

The stream proceeding from it was already about the thickness of your finger. It was, however, still muddy, owing to its struggles in forcing its passage through the earth. It was only at the expiration of a few days, that, after having augmented to a certain degree from hour to hour, it ceased to increase, and became perfectly limpid. From that time it gushed from the earth in a jet of considerable magnitude, having almost reached the size of a child’s arm.

We must not, however, anticipate events, but continue to follow them, day by day, as we have done hitherto. We will now resume our narrative.

Book 3 - Part 6

The honorable M. Jacomet, in the meanwhile, seemed to be annoyed with himself for not having surprised the imposture in the very act, and crushed the growing superstition by his own personal exertions. He racked his brains to guess the answer to the enigma, for he began to see clearly, from the very demand made by the Curé of Lourdes, that the Clergy had nothing to do with the matter. He had, therefore, only the little girl and her parents to deal with. He never for a moment doubted, that somehow or other, he would settle the affair to his satisfaction.

When Bernadette chanced to make her appearance on the street, the crowd eagerly pressed round her: at every step she was stopped by some one, and every one wished to hear from her mouth the details of the Apparitions. Several persons, among others M. Dufo, an advocate and one of the eminent men of the place, sent for her and asked her numerous questions. They did not resist the secret power which the living Truth imparted to her words. Many persons repaired in the course of the day to the house of the Soubirous to hear Bernadette’s account of the affair. She submitted with all simplicity and complaisance to these incessant interrogations, and it was plain that, from that time forth, she considered it her peculiar office and duty to bear witness to all that she had seen and heard.

In a corner of the room in which visitors were received, there was a little shrine adorned with flowers, medals and holy images, and surmounted by a statue of the Virgin, which gave it an appearance of luxury and attested the piety of the family. All the rest of the chamber showed signs of the most wretched destitution; a pallet-bed, a few rickety chairs, and a miserable table, comprised all the furniture of the dwelling in which crowds came to learn the splendid secrets of heaven. The majority of visitors were struck and touched by the sight of such extreme indigence stamped on everything, and could not resist the pleasing temptation of leaving these poor people some present,—some trifling alms. This, however, the child and her parents invariably refused so peremptorily, that they could not press anything on them.

Many among these visitors were strangers to the town. One of the latter came to the house one evening at an hour when the throng of visitors had subsided, and there only remained a neighbor or a relation of the family sitting at the fireside. He carefully interrogated Bernadette, desiring her not to omit the slightest detail, and appearing to take an extraordinary interest in the child’s narration. Every moment he betrayed his enthusiasm and faith by the most tender exclamations. He congratulated Bernadette on having received so great a favor from heaven, and then compassionated the want of which he saw around him so many marks.

“I am rich,” said he; “allow me to assist you.” He placed on the table a purse, which he half opened, showing that it was full of gold. A flush of indignation mantled Bernadette’s countenance. “I do not wish for anything, Sir,” she observed eagerly. “Take it back again.” And she pushed the purse, which had been placed on the table, towards the unknown gentleman. “It is not for you, my child, it is for your parents, who are in want, and you cannot hinder me from succoring them.” “We do not wish to have anything, nor Bernadette either!” exclaimed her parents. “You are poor,” continued the stranger, insisting in his offer. “I have put you out of your way, and I take an interest in you. Is it from pride that you refuse me?” “No, Sir; but we do not want anything. Take back your gold.” The unknown took back his purse and left the house, with an expression of much annoyance on his countenance.

Where did this man come from, and who was he? Was he a compassionate benefactor or a crafty tempter? We know not. The police arrangements were so excellent at Lourdes, that perhaps M. Jacomet, more fortunate in this respect than ourselves, knew the secret, and could solve the riddle better than any one else.

If, then, by one of those accidents which sometimes occur in matters of police, the cunning Commissary heard that very evening the details of this scene between Bernadette and this mysterious stranger, he must have allowed that snares and temptations were as useless against this extraordinary child as captious questions and violent threats had already proved. The difficulties attending the unravelling of this affair increased for this man, who was yet so superlatively shrewd and so expert in merely human matters. If he had been surprised at the complete impossibility of producing the slightest contradiction in Bernadette’s recital, he was plunged into a state of absolute stupor by her disinterestedness and the firmness she had displayed in rejecting a purse full of gold.

Such conduct would have been easily explained in the mind of the sagacious Commissary had not the demand of some visible proof, of a miracle, of the impossible blossoming of the wild rose, which the Curé had made, proved, beyond a shadow of doubt, that the Clergy were not lurking behind the youthful Seer. But Bernadette and her parents, left to their own resources, poor, in distress, wanting for bread, and still not deriving any profit from the popular enthusiasm and credulity—this was a thing altogether inconceivable. Had the little girl invented the imposture merely to make herself talked about? But, to say nothing of the fact that there appeared little probability of such an ambition in the mind of a little shepherd-maid, what explanation could be offered for the indefeasible unity of her narration and her disinterestedness, which extended even to the members of her family, who were all extremely poor, and, consequently, sorely tempted to turn the blind credulity of the multitude to their own advantage? M. Jacomet was not the man to flinch because the case was attended with some insoluble objections, and he confidently awaited the turn of events, little doubting that a triumph was in store for him, which would only be rendered more glorious from the fact that at first it had been beset with difficulties and obstacles.

Book 3 - Part 5

There was certainly some truth in the Abbé Peyramale’s sly repartee; but, perhaps, not so much as he was inclined to think. Surely, if at that moment with his profound sagacity and high-mindedness, he had maturely reflected on the words which the Celestial Vision had pronounced a short time after having smiled, he would have comprehended the meaning of the smile which the poor child, favored though she was with such visions, was unable to interpret.

“To pray for sinners, to do penance, to climb kneeling the steep and difficult slope which leads from the rapid and tumultuous waves of the torrent to the unchangeable rock on which one of the sanctuaries of the Church was to be founded,”—such had been the commands of the Apparition at the close of the child’s prayer; such had been Her answer to the request that She should cause the wild-rose to blossom; such had been, from Her own mouth, the plain and clear commentary on Her smile. Who does not see after due reflection, the admirable meaning of this symbolic response?

“And what, even though I am the Mother of the God-Saviour, the Mother of that Jesus who spent his life in doing good and in consoling the afflicted, could they demand nothing from me as a proof of my power but this idle and frail marvel, which the rays of the sun, who is my Servant, will perform of themselves a few days hence? When a multitude of sinners, indifferent or hostile to the law of God, covers the surface of the globe; when whole nations, either guilty or led astray, quench their thirst at the poisoned stream of this world or at the turbid torrents which rush down to the abyss; when they have need, above all things, to scale on their knees the rugged path which separates the fleeting and troubled life of the flesh from the unchangeable life of the spirit; when the salvation of so many outcasts and the healing of so many sick in soul is the constant study of my maternal heart, am I not to give better proofs of my Power and Goodness than to make roses bloom in the depth of winter? and is it for so trifling an amusement that I appear to a young girl of earth and open my hands full of graces before her?”

Such was, it appears to us, as far as it is permitted to a wretched man to penetrate and interpret things so lofty in their nature, the deep meaning of the smile and the commands by which the Mother of the human race replied to the request of the Pastor of Lourdes. God, more especially in evil and necessitous times, does not condescend to fritter away (if we may use the expression), his omnipotence in vain prodigies which only strike the eye, or in ephemeral wonders which would wither before the close of day and be carried away by the first blast of wind. When it is His will to found aught eternal, He supports it by some eternal proof which future ages will not be able to impair.

What, meanwhile, was the signification of the command received by Bernadette to scale on her knees the surface of the Grotto until her progress was arrested by the escarpment of the parched rock? No one knew; and, in the presence of that arid rock, no one dreamed that, from the moment the Synagogue had committed self-murder while thinking to slay Jesus, the staff of Moses had passed as an heir-loom to the people of Christ.

The Curé of Lourdes, despite the lofty range of his mind, did not at once see these things which the future was to make so clear. The strong doubts he cherished within him of the reality of the Apparition prevented him from meditating carefully on the various circumstances connected with the scene at the Grotto, and fixing on them that clear glance which he usually threw on the things pertaining to God.

The Free-thinkers of the place, although somewhat disconcerted at the conversions produced that day at the Rocks of Massabielle by the extraordinary splendor of Bernadette’s transfiguration, triumphed exceedingly at the check the believers had met with, in regard to the humble and graceful proof which had been demanded by M. Peyramale. They praised the latter even more than they had done on the previous day for having exacted a miracle.

“Jacomet,” they said, “was guilty of a blunder in wishing to kill the Apparition: the Curé, with much greater shrewdness, forces her to commit suicide.” Incapable of appreciating the loyal simplicity of his impartial wisdom, which, doubtless, demanded some proofs before either believing or rejecting the matter, they attributed to craft what was really the result of prudence, and detected a snare in the simple prayer of an upright soul which was in quest of truth. As we see, on this occasion, these gentlemen were almost on the point of paying the Curé of Lourdes the high compliment—which he certainly did not deserve—of reckoning him as one of their own number.

Book 3 - Part 4

“Well, have you seen her to-day, and what has she said to you?” demanded the Curé of Lourdes, when Bernadette had presented herself at his house on her return from the Grotto.

“I have seen the Vision,” replied the child, “and I said to her ‘Monsieur le Curé requests you to furnish him with some proofs, as for instance, to cause the wild rose which is under your feet to blossom, because my word alone does not satisfy the Priests, and they will not rely on me.’ Then she smiled but said nothing. Afterwards she bade me pray for sinners, and commanded me to ascend to the bottom of the Grotto. And she cried out three times the words ‘Penitence! penitence! penitence!’ which I repeated as I dragged myself on my knees as far as the bottom of the Grotto. There she imparted to me a second secret which regards myself alone. Then she disappeared.”

“And what have you found at the bottom of the Grotto?”

“I looked after She had disappeared (for as long as She is there my attention is fixed on Her alone and She entirely absorbs me), and saw nothing but the rock, and on the ground a few blades of grass which were growing in the midst of the dust.”

The priest remained absorbed in a kind of reverie.

“Let us wait,” said he to himself.

The same evening, the Abbé Peyramale related this interview to the vicaires of Lourdes and some priests from the neighborhood. They rallied their Dean on the apparent failure of his demand.

“If it is the Blessed Virgin,” they said to him, “this smile on the receipt of your request, appears to us as unfavorable for you; and irony from so exalted a quarter strikes us as alarming.”

The Curé extricated himself from this view of the question with his usual presence of mind.

“This smile is in my favor,” he replied; “the Blessed Virgin is no scoffer. If I had spoken ill, she would not have smiled, she would have been moved to pity at my plea. She smiled; therefore she approves.”

Book 3 - Part 3

 

Among those who had been prevented hitherto by their superlative contempt for superstition from mixing themselves with the multitude in order to examine what was going on, several resolved from that time forth to repair to the Grotto in order to attend officially the popular deception. One of the above was M. Estrade, the Receveur des Contributions Indirectes, of whom we have already spoken, and who had been present in M. Jacomet’s room, at the interrogatory of the youthful Seer. He had been there, as you will remember, deeply struck with Bernadette’s strange accent of sincerity, and being unable to doubt the child’s good faith, had attributed her story to the results of a hallucination. At times, however, this first impression fading away, he inclined to the solution of Jacomet, who continued to view the whole affair as an extremely clever piece of acting and a miracle of roguery. M. Estrade’s philosophy, however firm in its principles, oscillated between these two explanations, which to his point of view were the only ones possible. His contempt for these mystic extravagances and these impostures went so far that up to that moment in spite of his secret curiosity, he had made it a point of honor not to go to the Rocks of Massabielle. That day, however, he resolved to repair to them―partly to attend a strange spectacle― partly to observe for himself―and partly out of complaisance and to escort thither his sister, who was much touched with these accounts and certain ladies in the neighborhood. He has, himself, related to us his impressions, which are not liable to any suspicions.

“I reached the spot,” he informs us, “much disposed to examine and, to tell the truth, to laugh and enjoy myself thoroughly, expecting as I did to see a kind of farce or some grotesque absurdities. An immense crowd of people massed themselves by degrees round those wild rocks. I wondered at the simplicty of so many blockheads and smiled to myself at the credulity of a crowd of devotees who were kneeling sanctimoniously in front of the rocks. We had come very early in the morning, and thanks to my skill in elbowing the crowd, I had no great difficulty in securing a place in the front ranks. At the usual hour, towards sunrise, Bernadette arrived. I was near to her. I remarked in her childish features that expression of sweetness, innocence and profound tranquillity with which I had been struck some days previously at the residence of the Commissary. She knelt down in a perfectly natural manner, without ostentation or embarrassment, and paying apparently little attention to the crowd which surrounded her, precisely as if she had been alone in a church or in a solitary wood, far from human gaze. She drew out her chaplet and began to pray. Shortly afterwards her look seemed to receive and reflect a strange unknown light; it became fixed and rested wondering, ravished and radiant with happiness on the opening in the rock. I turned my eyes in the same direction, but I saw nothing, Absolutely nothing, except the naked branches of the wild-rose. And yet, must I confess it to you? In face of the transfiguration of the child, all my former prejudices, all my philosophical objections, all my preconceived negations fell at once to the ground and cleared the way for an extraordinary feeling which took possession of me in spite of myself. I had the certitude, the irresistible intuition that a mysterious being was there. My eyes did not see it; but my soul and the souls of the innumerable witnesses of this solem hour saw it as I did, with the inner light of evidence. Yes, I attest the fact that a divine being was there. Suddenly and completely transfigured Bernadette was no longer Bernadette. It was an Angel from heaven plunged in indescribable ravishment. She had no longer the same contenance; another cast of intelligence, another life, I was going to say another stamp of soul was depicted upon it. She bore no longer any resemblance to herself, and it seemed as if she was a perfectly different person. Her attitude, her slightest gestures, the manner, for instance, in which she made the sign of the Cross, had a nobility, dignity, and grandeur, exceeding anything human. She opened her eyes wide as if insatiable of seeing―wide open and almost motionless; she was afraid, it would seem, to droop her eye-lids and to lose for a single moment the ravishing sight of the marvel she was contemplating. She smiled at that invisible being, and all this conveyed the fullest idea of ecstacy and beatitude. I was not less moved than the rest of the spectators. Like them, I held my breath, in order to endeavor to hear the colloquy which was being carried on between the Vision and the child. The latter listened with an expression of the most profound respect, or to express it better, of the most absolute adoration mingled with boundless love and the sweetest ravishment. Sometimes a shade of sorrow passed over her countenance, but its habitual expression was one of extreme joy. I observed that, at intervals of a few moments, she ceased to breath. During the whole of this time she had her chaplet in her hand, sometimes motionless (for ever and anon she seemed to forget it in order to lose herself entirely in the contemplation of the divine Being), sometimes gliding the beads more or less regularly through her fingers. Each of her movements was in perfect harmony with the expression of her countenance, which denoted by turns admiration, prayer and joy. She made from time to time those signs of the Cross, so pious, so noble and so imprinted with power, of which I have just spoken. If the denizens of Heaven make the signs of the Cross, they will assuredly resemble those made by Bernadette in her state of ecstacy. This gesture of the child, restricted as it was, seemed to a certain extent to embrace the Infinite.

“At a certain moment Bernadette quitted the spot where she was praying on the bank of the Gave, and without rising from her knees proceeded to the interior of the Grotto. It is a distance of about forty-five feet. While she was mounting this somewhat abrupt slope, the persons who were on her route, heard her very distinctly pronounce the words ‘Penitence! penitence! penitence!’

“A few moments afterwards she rose and walked in the midst of the crowd towards the town. She had subsided into a poor little tattered girl, who to all appearance had taken no more part in this extraordinary spectacle than those around her.”

However, while all this scene was being enacted the wild rose had not blossomed. its bare and unattractive branches wound motionless along the rock, and in vain had the multitude awaited the fragrant and charming miracle which had been demanded by the chief pastor of the town.

It was, however, a remarkable circumstance that this fact did not seem to stagger the belief of the faithful; and notwithstanding this apparent protestation on the part of inanimate nature against all supernatural power, many considerable men, and among others the one whose account of the occurance we have just given, felt themselves converted to belief on witnessing the transfiguration of the youthful seer.

The crowd, as was always the case, minutely examined the Grotto at the close of the ecstacy, when the child had taken her departure. M. Estrade, like all the rest, explored it with the greatest attention. Every one sought to discover something extraordinary in it, but there was nothing in it to strike the eye. It was an ordinary cavity in a hard rock and its surface was perfectly dry in every direction with the exception of the entrance and that part exposed to the west, when, during wet weather, the wind driving the rain produced a temporary humidity.

Book 3 - Part 2

 

It was not long before all the details of the conversation, which had taken place between Bernadette and the universally respected priest who at that time was Curé of the town of Lourdes, became generally known.

“He has given her a sorry reception,” observed the savants and philosophers in great glee. “He is too reasonable to believe in the reveries of a child in a state of hallucination and has shown considerable tact in getting hmself out of the difficulty. On the one hand, it was impossible for a man of his intelligence and calibre to countenance such follies, while on the other, by opposing to all this a simple denial, he would have had all this fanatical multitude on his back. Instead of falling into the double danger and being taken in the horns of this dilemma, he escapes quietly out of the difficulty and without going directly against the popular belief, he very cleverly demands a visible, palpable, and certain proof from the Apparition,―in a word, a Miracle, which is equivalent to an impossibility. He condemns the lie or the illusion to refute themselves, and, with the thorn of a wild rose tree bursts this grand balloon. It is a very happy idea.”

Jacomet, M. Dutour and their friends rejoiced at this demand in due form of law notified to the invisible Being of the Grotto. “The Apparition is summoned to produce her passport.” was a joke repeated with much laughter in official quarters.

“The wild-rose will blossom,” said the firmest among the believers, those who were still under the impression made on them by having witnessed Bernadette in a state of ecstacy.

A great number, believing though they did in the Apparition, were alarmed at this ordeal. The heart of man is after this fashion, and the Centurion, mentioned in the Gospel, spoke for the most of us when he said, “Credo Domine, adjura incredulitatem meam.”

“Lord I believe. Help thou mine unbelief.”

Both parties awaited the morrow with impatience.

Book 3 - Part 1

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 infallible 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 Ecclesiae aperuit os ejus . . . . . Lingua ejus loquitur judicium. Lex Dei ejus in cor de 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 ecstasy; 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 therefore 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 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 clam 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 occurrences 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 chid, 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 ecstasy, 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 its 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 no 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, 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 ambassadress 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, fill 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 who you speak to me, is really 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.

Book 2 - Part 14

What then had this strange and intimate conversation turned upon? What was this peculiar secret of which Bernadette spoke, being at the same time unwilling to explain its nature? What secret could there be between the Mother of the omnipotent Creator of Heaven and Earth and the lowly daughter of the miller Souberois; between this radiant Majesty, the highest that exists after God; between this supreme Queen of the Realms of the Infinite, and the little shepherd girl of the hills of Bartrès? Assuredly we will not attempt to divine it, and we should regard it as a sacrilege to play the eavesdropper at the gates of Heaven.

We may, however, be allowed to remark the profound and delicate knowledge of the human heart and the maternal wisdom which doubtless prompted the august speaker, in Her interview with Bernadette, to introduce some words of profound secrecy as a prelude to the public mission with which She invested her. Favored in the eyes of all with marvellous Visions, charged to the Priest of the true God with a message from the other world, the soul of this child, up to that moment so peaceful and solitary, found itself transferred all at once into the midst of innumerable crowds and infinite emotions. She was about to become the mark of the railleries of some, the menaces of others, the contradictions of many, and, what was attended with most danger to herself—of the enthusiastic veneration of a great number. The days were at hand when the multitudes would receive her with acclamation and would vie with each other for the possession of shreds of her garments, as if they were holy relics; when eminent and illustrious personages would prostrate themselves before her and implore her blessing; when a magnificent temple would rise and whole populations would flock together in incessant pilgrimages and processions on the faith of her word. And thus it was that this poor child, sprung from the people, was on the point of undergoing the most terrible trial which could assault her humility,—a trial in the course of which she might lose for ever her simplicity, her candor, in short all those modest and sweet virtues which had germinated and blossomed in the bosom of solitude. The very graces she received became a source of fearful danger to her, a danger to which more than once the choicest souls, honored by favor from heaven, have succumbed. St. Paul himself, after his visions, was tempted with pride, and required to be buffeted by the Evil Angel of the flesh in order that he might not exalt himself in his own heart.

The Blessed Virgin willed, however, to protect this little girl whom She loved, without permitting the Evil Angel to approach this lily of purity and innocence, opening its petals to the rays of her grace. What then does a mother when her child is threatened with danger? She clasps it closer and more tenderly to her bosom and says to it, quite low, in the mystery of a word softly murmured in her ear, “Fear nothing, I am here.” And should she be obliged to quit it for a moment and leave it alone, she adds: “I am not going away far. I am here within a few paces of you, and you have but to stretch out your hand to take mine.” In the same manner did the Mother of us all act towards Bernadette. At the moment when the world with all its various temptations, and Satan with all his subtle snares were about to strain every nerve to tear the child from Her, She was pleased to unite her more intimately to Herself. She girded her with Her arms and pressed her more energetically to Her heart. She, the Queen of Heaven!—by imparting a secret to the child of earth, She did all that; it was to elevate Bernadette even to the import of Her lips which uttered low tones; it was to found in her childish memory an inaccessible place of refuge, a place of peace and close intimacy which no one could ever succeed in disturbing.

A secret imparted to and heard by another creates the strongest bond of union between two souls. To tell a secret is to give a sure pledge of affectionate fidelity and unreserved confidence; it is to establish a closed sanctuary and as it were a sacred place of meeting between two hearts. When some one of importance, some one infinitely above us in rank, has put us in possession of his secret, we can no longer doubt him. His friendship has by means of this intimate confidence taken up, as it were, its abode in ourselves, and by it he has made himself the master of our soul. When our thoughts dwell on this secret, we seem in a measure mysteriously pressing his hand and feel as if in his presence.

In like manner a secret imparted by the Virgin to the miller’s daughter became for the latter a safeguard on which she might firmly rely. We are not taught this by Theology: it is the study of the human heart which attests its truth.

Book 2 - Part 13

On the morning of the next day, the crowd was assembled before the Grotto ere the sun had risen. Bernadette repaired to her post with that calm simplicity of manner which remained unchanged amid the threatening hostility of some and the enthusiastic veneration of others. The sorrow and anguish of the previous day had left some traces on her countenance. She still feared she should see the Apparition no more; and whatever were her hopes, she scarcely dared to give way to them.

She kneeled down with humility, supporting in one hand a taper which she had brought with her, or had been given to her, while, in the other, she held her chaplet.

The weather was calm, and the flame of the taper did not mount more straight to heaven than did the prayer of this soul towards those invisible regions from which the blessed Apparition was wont to descend. Doubtless it must have been so; for scarcely had the child prostrated herself, when the ineffable Beauty, whose return she was then so ardently invoking, manifested herself to her eyes and transported her with ravishment. The august Sovereign of Paradise gazed on the child of this world with an expression of indescribable tenderness, appearing to love her still more since she had suffered. She, the greatest, the most sublime, the most powerful of created Beings; She, whose glory swaying all ages and filling eternity, makes all other glory grow pale, or rather disappear; She, the Daughter, Spouse and Mother of God, seemed to wish to introduce, as it were, a kind of intimacy and familiarity into the feelings which united her with this little unknown and ignorant child, this lowly shepherd-girl. She addressed her by her name, with that sweet, harmonious voice, the deep charm of which ravishes the ear of the Angels.

“Bernadette,” said the divine Mother.

“I am here,” replied the child.

“I have to tell you a secret, for you alone, and concerning you alone. Do you promise me never to repeat it to any one in the world?”

“I promise you,” said Bernadette.

The dialogue continued, and entered into a profound mystery, which it is neither possible nor allowable for us to fathom.

Whatever it may have been, when this kind of intimacy had been established, the Queen of the eternal Realm gazed on this little girl, who the day before had suffered, and was destined again to suffer, for love of Her; and it pleased Her to choose her as an ambassadress to communicate one of Her wishes to mankind.

“And now, my child,” said she to Bernadette, “go, go to the Priests and tell them to raise a chapel to me here.” And as She pronounced these words the expression of her countenance, her glance and her gesture, seemed to promise that she would pour out there numberless graces.

After these words, she disappeared, and the countenance of Bernadette re-entered into the shade, as the earth at night, when the sun has gradually worn away in the depths of the horizon.

The multitude pressed round the child, who had but just now been transfigured in ecstasy. The hearts of all were touched with emotion. Questions were showered upon her from all quarters. They did not ask her if the vision had taken place; for at the moment of her ecstasy, all had understood, had been conscious that the Apparition was there; but they wished to know the words which had been uttered. Every one made efforts to approach the child and to hear what she said.

“What did she say to you? What did the Vision say to you?” was a question which escaped from the mouths of all.

“She told me two things—the one for myself alone, the other for the Priests; and I am going to them immediately,” replied Bernadette, who was in haste to take the road to Lourdes in order to deliver her message.

She was astonished on that, as on the preceding days, that every one did not hear the dialogue and see the “Lady.” “The vision speaks loud enough for others to hear,” she said; “and I also speak in my ordinary tone of voice.” In fact, during the ecstasy, every one perceived the child’s lips to move, but that was all; no one could distinguish any words. In this mystic state, the senses are, in a manner, spiritualized, and the realities which strike them are absolutely imperceptible by the gross organs of our fallen nature. Bernadette saw and heard, she spoke herself; and yet no one around her could distinguish the sound of her voice or the form of the Apparition. Was Bernadette, then, mistaken? No; she alone grasped the truth. She alone, aided by spiritual succor and ecstatic grace, perceived momentarily that which escaped the senses of all others; precisely as the astronomer, furnished with the material assistance of his telescope, contemplates for an instant in the heavens the vast yet distant star which is invisible to the eyes of the vulgar. Outside her state of ecstasy she saw nothing; exactly as the astronomer without the powerful optical instrument, which increases a hundred-fold the power of his eye, is as powerless to discover a hidden star as his next neighbor.