Читать книгу The Miraculous Medal - Jean Marie Aladel - Страница 6

Understanding her nature, we can now form an idea of what Sister Catherine suffered from the opposition she experienced in realizing her mission; even though these contradictions, especially after the medal had been struck, were more apparent than real on the part of her wise Director, they were none the less painful to her. Might we not say that these trials constituted an interior martyrdom sustained by God and known to him alone?

Sister Catherine, despite her strong constitution, was not exempt from physical suffering, and her companions were sometimes astonished at the simplicity with which she asked for little comforts that a mortified soul would have denied itself. These slight defects formed a veil that obscured the sight of many, and partially concealed the beauties of her soul.

Apparently, the very depths of this simple nature might be read at a glance, and yet she faithfully guarded the secrets of God. In her were seen, by a singular contrast, prudence and discretion allied to perfect simplicity. Thus, whilst some found her a little too thoughtful of her health, others observed that on all great feasts of the Blessed Virgin, particularly that of the Immaculate Conception, she was either sick or suffering acute pain, which trials the humble Sister received as a favor from her celestial Mother.

The Superior of the Hospital d'Enghien relates that, one year, when Sister Catherine had gone with several of her companions to spend the beautiful Feast of December 8th at the Community, on getting into the omnibus that evening she fell and broke her wrist. She said not a word, and no one perceived the accident. Some minutes after, seeing that she held her arm in her handkerchief, Sister Dufès inquired what had happened. "Ah! Sister," she quietly replied, "I am holding my bouquet; every year the Blessed Virgin sends me one of this sort."

Detachment from the esteem and affection of creatures was still another trait characteristic of our dear Sister. God sufficed her; that God who had manifested Himself to her in so wonderful a manner, that Immaculate Virgin whose charms had ravished her heart, were her sole joy and delight. The Blessed Virgin, pointing to the sacred tabernacle where her divine Son reposes, had said to her: "In all your trials, my daughter, it is there you must seek consolation." Faithful to these words of her good Mother, Sister Catherine in moments of trial sought the chapel, whence she soon returned to her occupations with renewed serenity of soul and countenance ever cheerful. Jesus and Mary alone received the confidence of her sufferings and her fervor, so that her virtues in a measure were concealed from creatures.

One of the Sisters of the house says that, having often observed her closely to discover, if possible, some trace of her communications with God, she could find nothing especial except that during prayer she did not cast down her eyes, but always kept them fixed upon the image of Mary. She remarks, also, that Sister Catherine never wept except from great anguish of heart, but many times she saw her shed tears in abundance on listening to some traits of protection or some conversion obtained through the Blessed Virgin's intercession, or, as in 1871, at the evils afflicting the Church and France.

Solidly pious in the midst of companions apparently more so, we see nothing indeed in our humble Sister to distinguish her from others. Only one especial circumstance has been remarked, the importance she attached to the recitation of the chaplet. Let us hear what her Sister-Servant says on this point—

"We were always struck," writes Sister Dufès, "when saying the chaplet in common, with the grave and pious manner in which our dear companion pronounced the words of the Angelical Salutation. And what convinced us of the depth of her respect and devotion was the fact that she, always so humble, so reserved, could not refrain from censuring the indifference, the want of attention, which too often accompanies the recitation of a prayer, so beautiful and efficacious."

Her love for the two families of St. Vincent, far from diminishing with age, only incited her to employ continually in their behalf the sole influence at her disposal, prayer; regularly every week, she offered a Communion to attract the benediction of Heaven upon the Congregation of the Mission; her prayers for her Community were incessant.

Sister Catherine always retained the same duty at the Hospital d'Enghien; with truly admirable solicitude, she nursed the old men entrusted to her, at the same time not neglecting the pigeon house, which recalled the purest and sweetest joys of her childhood. The young girl of former days, whom we have seen with her dear pigeons hovering round her, was now a poor Sister, quite aged, but none the less attentive to her little charge.

Sister Catherine was, then, the soul of the little family in charge of the hospital. During these later years, the number of our Sisters had increased considerably, and consequently the administration of the two houses, d'Enghien and Reuilly, being very difficult for one person, an assistant was sent me for the hospital. If Sister Catherine had not for years been moulded to obedience and abnegation, it would have been hard to her quick, impulsive nature, to recognize the authority of a companion so much younger than herself; but far different were the thoughts of this humble Sister, who always endeavored to abase herself.

"She was the first to tender her perfect submission. 'Sister,' said she, 'be at ease, it suffices that our Superiors have spoken; we will receive Sister Angélique as one sent from God, and obey her as we do you.' Her conduct justified her words.

"Although Sister Catherine guarded rigorously the supernatural communications she had received, she occasionally expressed her views to me on actual occurrences, speaking then as if inspired by God.

"Thus, at the time of the Commune, she told me that I would leave the house accompanied by a certain Sister, that I would return the 31st of May, and she assured me I need have no fears, as the Blessed Virgin would take my place and guard the house. At the time, I paid very little attention to the good Sister's words.

"I left, indeed, and realized, contrary to my plans, and without a thought on the subject, all that Sister Catherine had predicted. On my return from the Community, May 31st, I expressed my anxiety concerning the house, which had been in the hands of the Communists, and, it was said, plundered. Sister Catherine endeavored to reassure me, repeating that the Blessed Virgin had taken care of everything, she was confident of it, for the Blessed Virgin had promised her.

"We found on our arrival that this Mother of mercy had, indeed, guarded and saved all, notwithstanding the long occupation of our dear house by a mob of furies, whose Satanic pleasure was to destroy.

"One circumstance in particular struck me most forcibly; these wretches had made useless efforts to overthrow the statue of Mary Immaculate placed in the garden—it had withstood all their sacrilegious attempts.

"Sister Catherine hastened to place upon the head of our august Queen the crown she had taken with her in our exile, telling the Blessed Virgin she restored it in token of gratitude.

"Many times did Sister Catherine thus reveal her thoughts to me with the simplicity of a child. When her predictions were not realized, she would quietly say: 'Ah! well, Sister, I was mistaken. I believed what I told you. I am very glad the truth is known.'[6]

"Meanwhile, time fled, and our good Sister often spoke of her approaching end. Our venerated Superiors began to feel anxious about losing her, and the Superior General one day sent for her to come to the Community that he might receive from her own lips certain communications which he considered very important.

"Sister Catherine, to whom this was wholly unexpected, was almost speechless with amazement. On her return, she expressed to me her emotion, and, for the first time, opened her heart to me concerning that which she had formerly so much feared to reveal.

"This repugnance had vanished; seeing herself on the borders of the tomb, she felt constrained to make known the details which she thought buried with the venerated Father Aladel, and she expressed great grief that devotion to the Immaculate Conception was less lively and general than it had been.

"These communications, moreover, were for myself alone; I did not impart them to the other Sisters. It is true, the greater number were informed of this pious secret, but they never learned it from Sister Catherine herself. All they could observe in connexion with it was her ardent love for Mary Immaculate and her zeal for the propagation of the Miraculous Medal, also that, when she heard one of our Sisters express a desire to make the pilgrimage to Lourdes or some other privileged sanctuary of Mary, she could not refrain from saying, somewhat impetuously: 'But why do you wish to go so far? Have you not the Community? Did not the Blessed Virgin appear there as well as at Lourdes?' And a most extraordinary fact is, that, without having read any of the publications concerning this miraculous grotto, Sister Catherine was more familiar with what had taken place there than many who had made the pilgrimage. Leaving these incidents aside, never did she utter a word calculated to give the impression that she had any part in the singular favors the Blessed Virgin had lavished upon our humble chapel at the Mother House.

"Since opening her heart to me, this good companion had become very affectionate; it was a rest for her, a consolation to find some one who understood her. Our worthy Father Chevalier, Assistant of the Congregation of the Mission, occasionally visited her to receive her communications concerning the apparition. One day, he spoke to her of the new edition he was preparing of the notice of the medal. 'When M. Aladel's edition of 1842 appeared,' replied Sister Catherine, 'I said to him, truly, that he would never publish another, and that I would never see another edition, because it would not be finished during my lifetime.' 'I shall catch you there,' replied M. Chevalier, who expected it to appear very soon. But unforeseen difficulties having retarded the publication, he subsequently recognized that the good Sister had spoken rightly.

"From the beginning of the year 1876, Sister Catherine alluded very frequently to her death; on all our feast days, she never failed to say: 'It is the last time I shall see this feast.' And when we appeared not to credit her assertion, she added: 'I shall certainly not see the year 1877.' We could not, however, believe her end so near. For some months she had been obliged to keep her bed, and relinquish that active life she had led so many years.

"Her strength was gradually failing; the asthma joined to some affection of the heart undermined her constitution; she felt that she was dying, but it was without a fear, we might say without emotion. One day, when speaking to her of her death: 'You are not afraid, then,' said I, 'dear Sister Catherine.' 'Afraid! Sister!' she exclaimed; 'why should I be afraid? I am going to our Lord, the Blessed Virgin, St. Vincent.'

"And, truly, our dear companion had nothing to fear, for her death was as calm as her life.

"Several days previous, one of our Sisters was talking familiarly with her, when, without any allusion to the subject from the other, our sick Sister said: 'I shall go to Reuilly.' This was the name given the House of Providence, separated from d'Enghien Hospital by a vast garden, and similar to it in the nature of its works. 'What! to Reuilly?' answered her companion; 'you would not have the heart to do so, you who love so well your Enghien, that you have never left.' 'I tell you, I shall go to Reuilly.' 'But when?' 'Ah! that is it!' said Sister Catherine, in a decided, mysterious tone, that disconcerted her companion. After a few moments, she added: 'There will be no need of a hearse at my funeral.' 'Oh! what do you mean?' replied the Sister. 'It will not be needed,' said the sick one, emphatically. 'But why not?' 'They will put me in the chapel at Reuilly.' These words struck her companion, who repeated the conversation to me. 'Keep that to yourself,' said I.

"On the 31st of December, she had several spells of weakness, symptoms of her approaching end. We then proposed to her the last consolations of religion; she gratefully consented, and received the Sacraments with indescribable peace and happiness; then, at her request, we recited the litany of the Immaculate Conception.

"Being one day near her bed, speaking to her of Heaven and of the Blessed Virgin, she expressed a desire to have during her agony sixty-three children, each invoking the Blessed Virgin by one of her titles in the litany of the Immaculate Conception, and especially these very consoling words: 'Terror of demons, pray for us.' It was observed that there were not sixty-three invocations in the litany. 'You will find them in the office of the Immaculate Conception,' said she. Measures were taken to comply with her desires, the invocations were written upon slips of paper and kept for the final hour, but, just at the time of her agony, we could not collect the children; she then asked that the litany be recited, and had us repeat three times the invocation which makes hell tremble.

"Our Sisters were especially touched to hear her exclaim, with an accent of deep tenderness: 'My dear Community! my dear Mother House!' So true is it, that what we have loved most in life returns to us with renewed vigor at the hour of death!

"Some of her former companions and friends of the House came during the day to see her for a last time; one of them, holding an office in the Seminary, approaching her, said sadly: 'Sister Catherine, are you going to leave us without telling me a word of the Blessed Virgin?' Then the dying Sister leaned towards her, and whispered softly in her ear quite a while. 'I ought not to speak,' said she; 'it is M. Chevalier who is commissioned to do that.' … She continued, without interruption: 'The Blessed Virgin has promised to grant especial graces every time one prays in the chapel, but particularly an increase of purity, that purity of mind, heart, will, which is pure love.'

"This good daughter, animated with the true primitive spirit of the Community, was, in uttering these last words, the unconscious echo of the venerable Mother Legras, whose writings breathe the same thought.

"A Sister-Servant, who came to visit her, approaching the sick Sister, reminded her of the necessities of the Community and of the Seminary, and ended by saying: 'Dear Sister Catherine, when you get to Heaven, do not forget all this, attend to all my commissions.' Sister Catherine answered: 'Sister, my will is good, but I have always been so stupid, so dull, I shall not know how to explain myself, for I am ignorant of the language of Heaven.' Upon which the other, delighted with so much simplicity, was inspired to say: 'Oh! my dear Sister Catherine, in Heaven we do not speak as we do on earth; the soul regards God, the good God regards the soul, and all is understood—that is the language of Heaven.' Our dear Sister's countenance became radiant at this, and she answered: 'Oh! Sister, if it is thus, be tranquil, all your commissions will be fulfilled.'

"M. Chevalier came, also, that day to give her his blessing, and he spoke to her on the same subject. Sister Catherine answered him with faculties undimmed, and said to him, among other things: 'The pilgrimages the Sisters make are not favorable to piety. The Blessed Virgin did not tell me to go so far to pray; it is in the Community chapel she wishes the Sisters to invoke her, that is their true pilgrimage.'

"The poor, to whom she was so devoted, likewise occupied her thoughts.——

"At four in the afternoon, another attack of weakness collected us all around our dear, dying one, but the supreme moment had not yet come. We surrounded her bed until evening. At seven, she seemed to sink into a slumber, and without the least agony or the least sign of suffering, she yielded her last sigh. Scarcely could we perceive that she had ceased to live. … Never have I seen a death so calm and gentle."

"The deepest emotion now filled our hearts; we pondered the celestial interview of our blessed companion with that good God who had so often revealed Himself to her during her Seminary life, and that beautiful Virgin, whose charms can never be depicted on earth.

"It was not sorrow which pervaded our hearts; not a tear was shed in these first moments; we yielded to an indescribable emotion; we felt ourselves near a Saint; the veil of humility under which she had lived so long concealed was now rent, that we might see in her only the soul favored by Heaven.

"Our Sisters disputed the happiness of passing the night beside her venerated remains, a magnetic attraction drawing them to her.

"To perpetuate the fact that she had received these favors whilst still a Seminary Sister, we thought of having her photograph taken, also, in the Seminary habit; it succeeded completely in both costumes.

"We now carried her blessed remains into the chapel. There the Immaculate Virgin watched over her; lilies and roses surrounded her virginal body, and her cherished device—'O Mary! conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee'—surrounding this little sanctuary, seemed the last echo of her life.

"Then commenced the miracle of glorified humility; this humble Sister, who in life had been scarcely noticed, was suddenly surrounded by persons of every age and condition, who considered it a very great happiness to come, not to pray for her, but to recommend themselves to her blessed intercession.

"As for us who were keeping watch around our dear relic, we could not bear to think of the moment which would take her from us. This house which had been protected by her presence for forty-six years, would it be deprived of her forever? The thought was heart-breaking; it seemed as if we were about to lose the protection of the Immaculate Virgin, who would henceforth cease to hover over us.

"On the other hand, to keep our dear Sister with us appeared impossible. Our Superiors being consulted, permitted us to take measures in accordance with our wishes. We had a world of difficulties to surmount.

"'Pray,' said I to our Sisters; and they passed the night supplicating the Immaculate Mary to let our beloved companion remain with us.

"All night long, I vainly tried to think of a suitable resting place for her, when suddenly, at the sound of the four o'clock bell, I thought I heard these words: 'The vault is under the chapel of Reuilly.' 'True enough,' said I, joyfully, like a person who suddenly sees the realization of a long deferred hope. I remembered now that, during the construction of the chapel, a vault had been made communicating with the children's refectory. Our worthy Mother Mazin had assigned to it no actual purpose, saying we might have use for it hereafter.

"There was no time to lose. We were on the eve of her funeral, and the authorization, so difficult to obtain, had not yet been solicited.

"The vault was hastily prepared, and the petition, sustained by influential persons, succeeded as if by enchantment.

"January 3d, the feast of St. Genevieve, was the day appointed for the interment of her, whom we regarded as the tutelary angel of our house. But the word 'interment' is not appropriate here—'triumph' is the proper expression—for it was a veritable triumph for our humble Sister.

"A deputation was sent from all the houses of our Sisters, that had received timely notice, and the little chapel was much too small to accommodate the numbers that came. Mass over, the funeral cortege which was to accompany the body in procession from d'Enghien Hospital to the vault at Reuilly was organized, as follows: The inmates of our industrial school, Children of Mary, came first, bearing their banner; next to these, all our little orphans; then, our young girls of the Society (both externs and those belonging to the house), wearing the livery of the Immaculate Mary; the parishioners, and lastly, our Sisters preceding the clergy.

"This lengthy procession passed slowly through the long garden walk, and whilst the solemn chants of the Benedictus resounded afar, the modest coffin appeared in sight, covered with lilies and eglantines, emblems of purity and simplicity.

"At the entrance of the vault, the crowd stood aside, and our Children of Mary greeted the arrival of the body by singing the blessed invocation: 'O Mary! conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee!' It would be impossible to describe the effect of these funeral obsequies, of a nature so entirely new.

"To preserve our treasure, it was necessary to wall up the subterranean entrance, but we had an opening made communicating with the chapel.

"The poor, whom Sister Catherine had nursed, lay a magnificent crown on the tomb of St. Vincent's humble daughter, who, in life, sought only the lowliest paths, and who had supplicated the Blessed Virgin to keep her unknown and unsought.——"

The life of dear Sister Labouré was the faithful realization of Our Lord's words in the Gospel: "I return Thee thanks, Father, that Thou hast concealed these things from the wise of this world and hast revealed them to little ones." Never were the gifts of God better concealed in a soul, under the double mantle of humility and simplicity.

For forty-six years did she lead a life of obscurity and toil, seeking no other satisfaction than that of pleasing God; she sanctified herself in the lowliest paths by a faithful correspondence to grace, and an exact compliance with the practices of a Community life. The favors she received from Heaven never filled her heart with pride; witness of the wonders daily wrought by the medal, she never uttered a word that might lead others to suspect how much more she knew about it than any one else.

Might we not say, she had chosen for her motto these words of À Kempis: "Love to be unknown and accounted as nothing?" How faithfully these traits portray the true daughter of the humble Vincent de Paul!

What, in Heaven, must be the glory of those whose earthly life was one of self-abasement? Do we not already perceive a faint radiance of this glory? The obsequies of the humble servant of the poor resembled a triumph; by an almost unheard of exception, her body remains in the midst of her spiritual family; her tomb is visited by persons of every condition, who, with confidence, recommend themselves to her intercession, and many of whom assure us that their petitions have been granted. In fine, this biographical notice discloses what Sister Catherine so carefully concealed, and thus accomplishes Our Lord's promise: "He who humbleth himself, shall be exalted."