Through Father Vianney were affected cures of the mentally afflicted, of paralytics from birth or accident, of sufferers from cancer and bronchial affection. There are those whose tongue had never spoken, whose ear had never heard, whose eye had never seen until the holy cure's word had gone forth: "Make a novena to St. Philomena; I will pray with you."

A nervous malady racked the being of Mademoiselle Zoe Pradille and deprived her of the power of walking, of kneeling, of reading and listening to reading and of eating without excruciating pain. Expert medical treatment was secured at home and a thorough test was made of health resorts, all without avail, until at last the pilgrimage was made to Ars and the novena was said, resulting in a complete cure as attested to by a physician who had known the case well for six years out of the eight which the patient had suffered.

A house, during its course of removal, fell and buried under the ruins a little child and her grandmother. The mother of the little one escaped and ran about distracted, while the fruitless search went on.

Some one ran to make the accident known to Father Vianney. He knelt first in prayer, then hastened to the spot, blessed the ruins, and stood by encouraging the workmen, who were making the search. The grandmother was rescued unharmed. The child was found after a longer imprisonment in the ruins. She showed not the slightest sign of injury.

A member of the cure's household gave an old cap that the cure had worn to a poor woman, as an alms. The beautiful thought came to her: "The holy cure is a saint. If I have faith, my child will be cured."

The boy had an abscess on the head. She put the cap on him. That evening, when she uncovered him to dress the wound, she found that the sore had disappeared. The child had been cured.

"To-day," one wrote from Ars, "we have had a very remarkable cure. It is of a young nun from the Alps whose tongue had been completely paralyzed for three years, after her recovery from typhoid fever. She could converse only by writing on a slate. The day on which she finished her novena, just as she was about to make her thanksgiving after Holy Communion, she felt that her tongue was articulating the acts. She now can speak. I have seen and heard her." The cure of her home parish and the physician who attended her in her convent, testified to her recovery.

One of the remarkable cures, instantly and publicly effected in presence of all the pilgrims, was that of a young man from Pud de Dome who could walk only with difficulty and with the aid of crutches.

"My Father, do you think I will leave my crutches here?" was his oft-repeated question during the novena. On the feast of the a.s.sumption he intercepted the holy priest as he came from the sacristy into the crowded church for the evening exercises and again put the question.

"Yes, my friend, if you have faith," was the reply. Instantly the power was given to the young man to walk unaided, and he hastened to St. Philomena's chapel to leave his crutches there. His grat.i.tude was the life-long consecration of himself to G.o.d in the inst.i.tute of the Brothers of the Holy Family.

Miracles of this kind caused the priest considerable embarra.s.sment. He sought to hide from the public eye the marvelous results of his G.o.d-given power manifested daily in his parish, His "dear little St.

Philomena," who never failed him in his hour of need, heard many plaints from him in which he charged her with working the marvels that were effected through his ministry. Such was the humility of the "wonder-worker" of our own age.

The gift of a medal of St. Philomena was often the preliminary manifestation of miraculous power. This gift was followed by a request that a novena be made to the saint, Father Vianney promising to pray also. The result was frequently the desired miracle, which was in reality the outcome of the cure's powerful pleading with G.o.d.

Nevertheless, it could easily be laid at the door of his "dear little saint." This was especially so on occasions when the sufferers were not brought to the village or when the cures did not take place until the afflicted ones were far distant from the ordinary scene of the miracles.

A noteworthy instance, in which the good G.o.d seemed, as it were, to play into Vianney's hands at times, by allowing St. Philomena to have the full credit of the miracle, was that of the poor wandering musician. He came to the holy cure begging the latter to heal his lame child. After persuading this man to go to confession he blessed him and sent him home, making him promise to mend his evil ways and to cease carrying on an abuse against which the priest waged a relentless war, namely, the village dances, which were held on Sundays and festivals.

When the musician entered his home, he broke his violin and cast the pieces into the fire, to the great dismay of his wife, who saw their family means of sustenance consumed. But his lame child, crying out with joy, leaped across the room to welcome his father. The child was completely cured.

Father Vianney's tenderness was once deeply stirred at the sight of a mother bearing on her back a paralyzed boy of eight years, a cripple from birth. The cure was apparently turning a deaf ear to the mother's repeated appeals for the cure of her child, content with giving them a glance of pity and sympathy and a blessing. Yet, as the result seems to show, his soul must have spoken some word to the soul of the child, audible to none other. At night the mother left the church with a disappointed heart.

While undressing her little son, in a lodging near by, the boy told her she must go out early in the morning to buy him a pair of new shoes. "For," said he, "Father Vianney promised that I would walk to-morrow." Not a word had been spoken to the child, but his mother did his bidding, and put the new shoes on him. The miracle, delayed in the crowded church, was wrought at the moment in the lowly lodging room.

The child, crippled from birth, ran to the church, crying: "I am cured, I am cured."

The miraculous power of the cure's sanct.i.ty which, during thirty years, attracted considerable attention, could have been welcomed by him for one reason alone, that it helped so much in the aim of his life--the conversion of sinners. That it was the reward not only of his simple faith but of the heroic and unceasing penance which he performed in order to secure the salvation of souls, seems implied in words of his own.

A friend in the priesthood once said to him, when a much needed sum of money had come in an astonishing way: "Tell me, Father Vianney, the way to work miracles." The holy man, with a serious air, replied: "My friend, there is nothing which disconcerts the devil so much, and attracts the graces of G.o.d, more than fasting and prayerful watchings." His life, it may be truly said, was one incessant prayer and vigil. A simple peasant has beautifully said: "It is not astonishing that he works miracles. He is a servant of G.o.d. G.o.d obeys his servants." "They tell us of marvelous things that took place here," said a pilgrim who but echoed the words of many, "but the grand miracle of Ars is the life, so penitent and laborious, of the cure." No miracles showed more clearly his extraordinary gifts and graces than the power which his spirit possessed over his poor emaciated body; and no miracle was greater than his absolute control over his physical state when he seemed on the verge of dissolution, a control that enabled him to bear the over-powering burden of his incessant labors for souls, without sinking under the load. A miracle alone can explain this extraordinary existence.

CHAPTER VI.

THE INTERIOR LIFE OF THE BLESSED CURE.

IN the preceding chapters we have recounted many things both edifying and interesting in the external life of the pious cure. But for a better knowledge of his n.o.ble personality we must look into his inner life. Many readers of these lines have doubtless asked themselves how the cure, in his unremitting labors for others, could have bestowed the necessary care upon his own soul.

Let it be understood that the very moment when the cure seemed to have any leisure for himself, he was more actively engaged in the business of his own spiritual welfare. Then were displayed those beautiful virtues which showed him to be an example of charity and meekness, of voluntary sacrifice and humility. The very glow from his clear eyes revealed the genuine piety by which he was animated. To all who approached him, Father Vianney showed a befitting attention and respect. Indeed, with increasing years, he was even more affable than before.

And yet to what trials was not his patience subjected? Almost daily, as he pa.s.sed through the village square, people would crowd about him, tug at his soutane and ask questions, which were oftimes trivial, if not foolish. Father Vianney never met importunate persons with so much as a harsh word or a frown. His unchanging kindness toward all earned for him in his life-time the t.i.tle of the "Good Cure." He was ever considerate of his co-workers, striving to spare them every irksome duty. In order to show his affection he distributed among them his personal belongings, including crosses, medals and relics, which he dearly prized.

For many years before his death he possessed absolutely nothing. He had sold his furniture, books, etc., and had given the proceeds to the poor. The purchasers generally were glad to have him use the articles for which they had given him the money.

Lenient as Father Vianney was towards others, he was correspondingly severe with himself. He was extremely hard upon his own body, which he referred to as his "corpse." After his superiors had prohibited some of the rigorous mortifications to which he was accustomed, he devised other forms of self-denial in respect to his daily food.

During the last decade of his life he was required, by order of his superiors, to take, every morning, at least a cup of milk and a roll.

Brother Jerome, who waited upon him, observed that the cure, with his usual desire to practice penance, first ate the dry bread and then drank the milk.

For many years Father Vianney suffered from violent pains which frequently compelled him to shorten his addresses in the pulpit and sometimes even caused him to collapse. If, on such occasions, he were questioned about his illness his only answer was: "Yes, I am suffering a little." Terrible indeed must have been his torture when we consider that his emaciated body, racked with pain, was confined for sixteen or seventeen hours a day, during so many years, in the narrow s.p.a.ce of the confessional.

In the winter he suffered greatly from the cold. The north-west wind blowing over the bleak region of the Jura mountains, whistled through the door of the church, which could not be kept closed owing to the constant stream of penitents pa.s.sing in and out. In summer, conditions were worse, if that were possible, for on account of the location of his confessional, only the air from the farther side could reach it and that was heated and stifling because of the many persons who were gathered there. Frequently, when Father Vianney left the confessional, he was unable to stand erect, being obliged to support himself by leaning against the seats or pillars of the church.

After a day of such work and suffering he was surely ent.i.tled to a full night's rest. But no, he often said that with one hour of sound sleep he found himself quite refreshed. Even this one hour, however, was hardly ever allowed him. Like one grievously sick he breathed painfully as he lay on his miserable couch of straw. A cough unceasingly racked his body. He arose every night four or five times, in the hope of getting some relief by walking up and down. When at last thoroughly exhausted he slept only for a short time. When the hour for rising had come, this poor, feeble septuagenarian with a heroic effort tore himself away from the rest which he had hardly enjoyed and began the work of another day as long and as trying as that which had gone before.

To these corporal sufferings was added spiritual anguish of the bitterest kind. In his own life the cure was a saint, chaste, magnanimous and faithful, and yet, day after day, he had to listen in the confessional to an endless recital of sins against those virtues.

Loving G.o.d as he did, with his whole soul, he could not but suffer when listening to the recital of most grievous offences committed against the Divine Majesty. His heart was torn thereby and not infrequently his anguish manifested itself in a flood of tears.

One day while giving instructions in catechism, he cried out: "There is no one in the world more unhappy than the guardian of souls. How does he spend his time? In hearing how the good G.o.d has been offended and His love rejected! Like St. Peter the poor priest is ever to be found in the court of Pilate. The Divine Saviour is always before his gaze, derided, scorned and reviled. Some sinners are spitting upon His countenance, others rain blows upon His defenceless head; still others crown Him with thorns and scourge Him until the blood flows. He is buffeted about, thrown on the ground and trampled upon. He is crucified and His heart is transpierced. Alas! had I known what it meant to be a confessor, instead of going to a seminary I would rather have fled to a Trappist Monastery."

It would have been some consolation and encouragement if the poor cure's humility had allowed him to rejoice at the tremendous success of his spiritual labors. But no matter what wonderful effects his ministry produced, he always regarded himself as most incapable of discharging his priestly duties as they should be performed. With unaffected sympathy did he speak of his "poor soul," his "poor corpse"

his "poor sins" and his "poor misery," praying that G.o.d in His goodness would bear with them. Without his humility, Father Vianney undoubtedly would not have become a saint. How otherwise could he have withstood for years the enthusiastic veneration of the thousands who were the witnesses of his holy life.

One day, when Bishop Devie, of Belley, in the ardor of conversation, gave him the t.i.tle of the "holy cure," Father Vianney in despair e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed: "Oh, what a misfortune for me! Your reverence even is deceived in me." He was more than surprised when, in August, in the year 1855, he was nominated a "Knight of the Legion of Honor." Of course he never wore the badge nor availed himself in any way of the distinction. Against the onrush of a mult.i.tude of corporal and spiritual anxieties and cares he sought consolation in prayer.

It has remained almost completely a secret what supernatural consolations were vouchsafed to the blessed cure. On that subject he always preserved a strict silence. He prayed practically throughout the whole night, for his sufferings, as mentioned above, allowed him only a few minutes rest at a time. What he recommended to others in the catechism lessons, he himself constantly practiced. He was wont to say, for instance: "See now, dear children, should you wake up during the night, go quickly in spirit before the tabernacle and say to our Saviour: "Here am I, O Lord, I adore Thee, I praise Thee, I thank Thee, I love Thee and with the Angels let me keep Thee company.""

During the day all his spare time was devoted to prayer. In visiting the sick his thoughts were always with G.o.d. But his prayers were of the most simple kind. He favored simplicity in every action.

In the church, before the Blessed Sacrament, the pious cure's sense of the Real Presence was so vivid that a colleague, who noticed his radiant look, regarded him with astonishment, thinking Father Vianney with his corporal eyes, beheld some one there. This intuition of the Divine Presence the pious man referred to, one day, saying: "That is faith when we speak to G.o.d as a fellow man!"

Despite the ardor of his desire for G.o.d's blissful vision, he had to struggle for many decades in the exile of this life, persevering in work and prayer. Only when his venerable age and increasing infirmities disabled him from further laboring in the conversion of sinners, did our Divine Lord see fit to take this soul to Himself. The cure was then in his seventy-fourth year.

CHAPTER VII.

DEATH AND BEATIFICATION OF THE BLESSED CURE.

IT was in the summer of 1859, that the venerable cure showed that his energies were nearly spent. He was then heard repeatedly to exclaim: "Alas, the sinners will kill the sinner."

On Friday, July 29th, after having as usual spent from sixteen to seventeen hours in the confessional, he returned to the rectory completely exhausted. He sank into a chair saying: "I can do no more."

The priest who saw him, immediately put him to bed. On the following morning his illness was so p.r.o.nounced that a fatal termination was feared. In the village and among the numerous visitors to Ars the greatest sorrow was felt. For three days the church was crowded with the faithful, praying that their cure might not be taken from them.

The cure did not join his prayers to those of his people for he felt that his last hour was approaching. On Friday evening he received the last sacraments. He shed tears of love when the Holy Viatic.u.m was brought to him and as Extreme Unction was being administered. For the last time he blessed all who were present as well as his whole parish.

On Wednesday morning he smilingly acknowledged the greeting of his bishop, who had hurried to his bedside. On Thursday, Aug. 4th, at two o'clock in the morning, while his friend and a.s.sistant, the Abbe Monnin, was saying the prayers for the dying and had just uttered the words: "May the holy Angels of G.o.d come forth to meet him and conduct him into the city of the Heavenly Jerusalem," the loving soul left his frail body to be received, as we may devoutly hope, into the presence of the Divine Master, whom he had served so long and so faithfully.

The demise of the good cure was immediately made known to the sorrowing community. On Sat.u.r.day of that week the interment took place. Almost six thousand persons, many of whom came from afar, attended the funeral. Three hundred priests accompanied the remains to the grave. The bishop of Belley, in his eulogy, selected his text from the office of the feast of the Saints and Confessors: "Well done, thou good and faithful servant, enter into the joy of thy Lord." All present understood the sentiments which prompted the selection of that particular text and trusted that their hope would not be disappointed.

Rarely has a process of beatification been set in motion so quickly as was that of John Baptist Vianney. Hardly forty-five years had elapsed since the remains of the deceased were laid at rest, under the pulpit of his parish church, when the Holy See announced its decision permitting the beatification process to be introduced.

As early as Oct, 3d, 1874, Pope Pius IX, after examining the various writings and biographical notices relating to the deceased and published by reliable contemporaries, conferred on the humble cure the t.i.tle "Venerable Servant of G.o.d." On June 21st, 1896, Pope Leo XIII, presiding, the last session of the commission took place, which was to p.r.o.nounce upon the saintly merits of the venerable cure. The favorable conclusion which everyone expected was announced by Cardinal Parocchi.

On Aug. 1st, of that year, Pope Leo XIII, issued a decree reciting the honors paid to the humble cure of Ars and his own personal admiration for his exalted virtue.

Seven years later, in 1903, the same Pope called a session of the commission to consider the testimony and reports relative to the miracles which had taken place at the tomb of the departed. This session, however, was not held, for on the day which had been appointed the venerable pope lay at the point of death and soon after, viz., on July 20th, of that year, the Catholic world had to mourn the pa.s.sing away of its spiritual head.