Section 20 of Lourdes. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Lourdes by Emil Zola, translated by Ernest Visitelli. The fourth day. 5. Cradle and Grave Immediately afterwards, as they descended the steps, Dr Chasseigne said to Pierre, you have just seen the triumph. I will now show you two great injustices. And he conducted him into the Rue des Petits Fouris to visit Bernadette's room, that low dark chamber, whence she set out on the day the Blessed Virgin appeared to her. The Rue des Petits Fouris starts from the former Rue des Bois, now the Rue de la Grotte, and crosses the Rue du Tribunal. It is a winding lane, slightly sloping and very gloomy. The pass is by a few. It is skirted by long walls, wretched looking houses, with mournful facades in which never a window opens. All its gate, he consists in an occasional tree in a courtyard. Here we are, at last said the doctor. At the part where he had halted, the street contracted, becoming very narrow, and the house faced the high grey wall of a barn. Raising their heads, both men looked up at the little dwelling, which seemed quite lifeless with its narrow casements and its coarse, violet targeting, displaying the shameful ugliness of poverty. The entrance passage down below was quite black. An old, light iron gate was all that closed it, and there was a stepped amount which in rainy weather was immersed in the water of the gutter. Go in, my friend, go in, said the doctor, you have only to push the gate. The passage was long, and Pierre kept on feeling the damp wall with his hand for fear of making a false step. It seemed to him as if he were descending into a cellar in deep obscurity, and he could feel a slippery soil impregnated with water beneath his feet. Then at the end, in obedience to the doctor's direction, he turned to the right. Stoop, or you may hurt yourself, said Monsieur Chasseigne. The door is very low. There, here we are.  He had fallen into complete darkness and felt an icy chill about the shoulders similar to the sensation that might be caused by a wet towel.  Two windows of unequal size opened onto a narrow interior courtyard where only a greenish light descended as at the bottom of a well. And to read there in the middle of the day it would be necessary to have a candle. Measuring about fifteen feet by twelve, the room was flagged with large uneven stones, while the principal beam and the rafters of the roof, which were visible, had darkened with time and assumed a dirty, sooty hue. Opposite to the door was the chimney, a miserable plaster chimney, with a mantelpiece formed of a rotten old plank. There was a sink between this chimney and one of the windows.  There was no longer any furniture there. The room seemed abandoned. You could only catch a glimpse of some confused, strange objects, unrecognizable in the heavy obscurity that hung about the corners. After a spell of silence, the doctor exclaimed, Yes, this is the room. All came from here. Nothing has been changed, with the exception that the furniture has gone. I have tried to picture how it was placed. The beds certainly stood against this wall opposite the windows. There must have been three of them at least, for the subdues were seven. The father, mother, two boys and three girls. Think of that. Three beds filling this room. Seven persons living in this small space. All of them buried alive, without air, without light, almost without bread. What frightful misery. What lowly, pity-awaking poverty. But he was interrupted. A shadowy form which Pierre at first took for an old woman entered. It was a priest, however, the curate of the parish, who now occupied the house. He was acquainted with the doctor. I heard your voice, Monsieur Chasseigne, and came down, said he. So there you are, showing the room again. Just so, Monsieur Laby, I took the liberty. It does not inconvenience you. Oh, not at all, not at all. Come as often as you please, and bring other people. He laughed in an engaging manner, and bowed to Pierre, who, astonished by this quiet carelessness, observed, The people who come, however, must sometimes plague you. The curate in his turn seemed surprised. Indeed, no. Nobody comes. You see, the place is scarcely known. Everyone remains over there at the grotto. I leave the door open, so as not to be worried. But days and days often pass without my hearing even the sound of a mouse. Pierre's eyes were becoming more and more accustomed to the obscurity. And among the vague, perplexing objects which filled the corners, he ended by distinguishing some old barrels, remnants of foul cages and broken tools, a lot of rubbish such as is swept away and thrown to the bottom of cellars.  And from what I see, resumed Pierre with a slight shudder, you have thought that you might make use of the room. The curate was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Of course, that's it, said he. What can one do? The house is so small, I have so little space. And then you can't imagine how damp it is here. It is altogether impossible to occupy the room. And so, mourn Dieu, little by little, all this has accumulated here by itself, contrary to one's own desire.  Oh, no, hardly that. An unoccupied room. And yet in truth, if you insist on it, it is a lumber room. His uneasiness was increasing, mingled with a little shame. Dr. Chasseigneur remained silent and did not interfere, but he smiled and was visibly delighted at his companion's revolt against human ingratitude. Pierre, unable to restrain himself, now continued, you must excuse me, Monsieur Labis, if I insist, but just reflect that you owe everything to Bernadette. But for her, Lord would still be one of the least known towns of France. And really it seems to me that out of mere gratitude the parish ought to have transformed this wretched room into a chapel. Oh, a chapel, interrupted the curate. It is only a question of a human creature. The church could not make her an object of worship. Well, we won't say a chapel then, but at all events there ought to be some lights and flowers, bouquets of roses constantly renewed by the piety of the inhabitants and the pilgrims.  This forgetfulness and desertion are shocking. It is monstrous that so much dirt should have been allowed to accumulate. The curate, a poor, thoughtless, nervous man, at once adopted Pierre's views. In reality, you are a thousand times right, said he, but I myself have no power. I can do nothing. Whenever they ask me for the room to set it to rights, I will give it up and remove my barrels, although I really don't know where else to put them. Only, I repeat, it does not depend on me. I can do nothing, nothing at all. Then, under the pretext that he had to go out, he hastened to take leave and run away again, saying to Dr. Chasseigne, Remain, remain as long as you please. You are never in my way. When the doctor once more found himself alone with Pierre, he caught hold of both his hands with effusive delight. Ah, my dear child, said he, how pleased you have made me. How admirably you expressed to him all that has been boiling in my own heart so long. Like you, I thought of bringing some roses here every morning. I should have simply had the room cleaned and would have contented myself with placing two large bunches of roses on the mantelpiece. For you know that I have long felt deep affection for Bernadette, and it seemed to me that those roses would be like the very flowering and perfume of her memory. Only, only, and so saying he made a despairing gesture. Only courage failed me. Yes, I say courage, no one having yet dared to declare himself openly against the fathers of the grotto. One hesitates and recoils in the fear of stirring up a religious scandal. Fancy what a deplorable racket all this would create. And so those who are as indignant as I am are reduced to the necessity of holding their tongues and preferring a continuance of silence to anything else. Then by way of conclusion he added, the ingratitude and rapacity of man, my dear child, are sad things to see. Each time I come here into this dim wretchedness, my heart swells and I cannot restrain my tears. He ceased speaking and neither of them said another word, both being overcome by the extreme melancholy which the surroundings fostered. They were steeped in gloom. The dampness made them shudder as they stood there amidst the dilapidated walls and the dust of the old rubbish piled up on either side. And the idea returned to them that without Bernadette none of the prodigies which had made Lourdes a town unique in the world would have existed. It was at her voice that the miraculous spring had gushed forth that the grotto bright with candles had opened. Immense works were executed, new churches rose from the ground, giant-like causeways led up to God. An entire new city was built, as if by enchantment, with its gardens, walks, keys, bridges, shops and hotels, and people from the uttermost parts of the earth flocked thither in crowds and the reign of millions fell with such force and so abundantly that the young city seemed likely to increase indefinitely, to fill the whole valley from one to the other end of the mountains. If Bernadette had been suppressed none of those things would have existed. The extraordinary story would have relapsed into nothingness. Old, unknown Lourdes would still have been plunged in the sleep of ages at the foot of its castle. Bernadette was the sole labourer and creatress. And yet this room, when she had set out in the day she beheld the virgin, this cradle indeed of the miracle and of all the marvellous fortune of the town, was disdained, left to pray to vermin, good only for a lumber room where onions and empty barrels were put away. Then the other side of the question vividly appeared in Pierre's mind, and he again seemed to see the triumph which he had just witnessed, the exultation of the grotto and basilica, while Marie, dragging her little car, ascended behind the blessed sacrament amidst the clamour of the multitude. But the grotto especially shone out before him. It was no longer the wild, rocky cavity before which the child had formerly knelt on the deserted bank of the torrent. It was a chapel adorned and enriched, a chapel illumined by a vast number of candles where nations marched past in procession. All the noise, all the brightness, all the adoration, all the money burst forth there in a splendour of constant victory. Here at the cradle in this dark icy hole there was not a soul, not a taper, not a hymn, not a flower. Of the infrequent visitors who came thither, none knelt or prayed. All that a few tender-hearted pilgrims had done in their desire to carry away a souvenir had been to reduce to dust between their fingers the half-rotten plank serving as a mantel shelf. The clergy ignored the existence of this spot of misery, which the processions ought to have visited as they might visit a station of glory. It was there that the poor child had begun her dream one cold night lying in bed between her two sisters and seized with a fit of her ailment while the whole family was fast asleep. It was thence too that she had set out unconsciously carrying along with her that dream which was again to be born within her in the broad daylight and to flower so prettily in a vision like those of the legends. One now followed in her footsteps. The manger was forgotten and left in darkness that manger where had germed the little humble seed which over yonder was now yielding such prodigious harvests reaped by the workmen of the last hour amidst the sovereign pomp of ceremonies. Pierre whom the great human emotion of the story moved to tears at last summed up his thoughts in three words saying in a low voice, it is Bethlehem. Yes remarked Dr. Chassain in his turn. It is the wretched lodging, the chance refuge when new religions are born of suffering and pity and at times I ask myself if all is not better thus if it is not better that this room should remain in its actual state of wretchedness and abandonment. It seems to me that Bernadette has nothing to lose by it for I love her all the more when I come to spend an hour here. He again became silent and then made a gesture of revolt. But no, no, I cannot forgive it. This ingratitude sets me beside myself. I told you I was convinced that Bernadette had freely gone to cloister herself at Nevelle. But although no one smuggled her away what a relief it was for those whom she had begun to inconvenience here. And they are the same men so anxious to be the absolute masters who at the present time endeavour by all possible means to wrap her memory in silence. Ah, my dear child, if I were to tell you all.  Those fathers of the grotto who showed such greed in trading on the work of Bernadette dreaded her still more now that she was dead than they had done while she was alive. So long as she had lived their great terror had assuredly been that she might return to Lord to claim a portion of the spoil. And her humility alone reassured them for she was in no wise of a domineering disposition and had herself chosen the dimmer boat of renunciation where she was destined to pass away. But at present their fears had increased at the idea that a will other than theirs might bring the relics of the visionary back to Lord. That thought had indeed occurred to the municipal council immediately after her death. The town had wished to raise a tomb and there had been a talk of opening a subscription. The sisters of Nevelle, however, formally refused to give up the body which they said belonged to them. Everyone felt that the sisters were acting under the influence of the fathers who were very uneasy and energetically bestowed themselves to prevent by all means in their power the return of those venerated ashes in whose presence at Lord they foresaw a possible competition with the grotto itself.  This would have been disastrous rivalry, a certain displacement of all the present devotion and prodigies, and the great, the sole fear still and ever returned to them, that of having to divide the spoils, of seeing the money go elsewhere should the town, now taught by experience, know how to turn the tomb to account. The fathers were even credited with a scheme of profound craftiness. They were supposed to have the secret idea of reserving Bernadette's remains for themselves, the sisters of Nevelle having simply undertaken to keep it for them within the peaceful precincts of their chapel. Only they were waiting and would not bring it back until the affluence of the pilgrims should decrease. What was the use of a solemn return at present when crowds flocked to the place without interruption and in increasing numbers? Whereas when the extraordinary success of Our Lady of Lord should decline, like everything else in this world, one could imagine what a reawakening of faith would attend the solemn resounding ceremony at which Christendom would behold the relics of the chosen one take possession of the soil when she had made so many marbles spring. And the miracles would then begin again on the marble of her tomb before the grotto or in the choir of the Basilica. You may search, continued Dr. Chasseigne, but you won't find a single official picture of Bernadette at Lourdes. Her portrait is sold but it is hung nowhere in no sanctuary. It is systematic forgetfulness, the same sentiment of covert uneasiness as that which has wrought silence and abandonment in this sad chamber where we are. In the same way as they are afraid of worship at her tomb, so are they afraid of crowds coming and kneeling here should two candles burn or a couple of bouquets of roses bloom upon this chimney. And if a paralytic woman were to rise shouting that she was cured, what a scandal would arise? How disturbed would be those good traders of the grotto and seeing their monopoly seriously threatened? They are the masters and the masters they intend to remain. They will not part with any portion of the magnificent farm that they have acquired and are working. Nevertheless they tremble, yes they tremble at the memory of the workers of the first hour, of that little girl who is still so great in death and for whose huge inheritance they burn with such greed that after having sent her to live at Nevelle, they dare not even bring back her corpse but leave it imprisoned beneath the flagstones of a convent. How wretched was the fate of that poor creature who had been cut off from among the living and the corpse in its turn was condemned to exile. And how Pierre pitied her, that daughter of misery who seemed to have been chosen only that she might suffer in her life and in her death.  How it seemed as if someone, uneasy at the idea of the immense power she might grasp had jealously sought to keep her out of the way. In Pierre's eyes she remained the chosen one, the martyr and if he could no longer believe if the history of this unfortunate girl sufficed to complete within him the ruin of his faith it nonetheless upset him in all his brotherly love for mankind by revealing a new religion to him the only one which might still fill his heart the religion of life of human sorrow. Just then before leaving the room Dr. Chasseigne exclaimed and it's here that one must believe, my dear child Do you see this obscure whole?   No, no the divine breath which alone can explain prodigies past here Pierre was on the point of hastily replying yes it was true, a breath had passed there the sob of sorrow the inextinguishable yearning towards the infinite of hope if the dream of the suffering child had sufficed to attract multitudes to bring about a reign of millions and raise a new city from the soil was it not because this dream in a measure appeased the hunger of poor mankind its insatiable need of being deceived and consoled she had once more opened to the unknown, doubtless at a favourable moment both socially and historically and the crowds had rushed towards it oh, to take refuge in mystery when reality is so hard to abandon oneself to the miraculous since cruel nature seems merely one long injustice but although you may organise the unknown reduce it to dogmas, make revealed religions of it there is never anything at the bottom of it beyond the appeal of suffering, the cry of life demanding health, joy and fraternal happiness and ready to accept them in another world if they cannot be had on earth what use is it to believe in dogmas does it not suffice to weep and love? Pierre however did not discuss the question he withheld the answer that was on his lips convinced moreover that the eternal need of the supernatural would cause eternal faith to abide among sorrowing mankind the miraculous which could not be verified must be a food necessary to human despair besides had he not vowed in all charity that he would not wound anyone with his doubts what a prodigy isn't it? repeated the doctor certainly Pierre ended by answering the whole human drama has been played all the unknown forces have acted in this poor room so damp and dark they remained there a few minutes more in silence they walked round the walls raised their eyes towards the smoky ceiling and cast a final glance at the narrow greenish yard truly it was a heart-rending sight at this poverty of the cobweb level with its dirty old barrels its worn out tools its refuse of all kinds rotting in the corners in heaps and without adding a word they at last slowly retired feeling extremely sad it was only in the streets that Dr. Chassagne seemed to awaken he gave a slight shudder and hastened his steps saying it is not finished my dear child follow me we are now going to look at the other great iniquity he referred to Abbey Pirramal and his church they crossed the Place du Porte and turned into the Rue Saint-Pierre a few minutes would suffice them but their conversation had again fallen on the fathers of the Grotto on the terrible merciless war waged by Father Saint-Pierre against the former Curé of Lourdes the latter had been vanquished and had died in consequence overcome by feelings of frightful bitterness and after thus killing him by grief he had completed the destruction of his church which he had left unfinished without a roof, opened the wind and to the rain with what a glorious dream had that monumental edifice filled the last year of the Curé's life since he had been dispossessed of the Grotto driven from the work of our Lady of Lourdes of which he, with Bernadette had been the first artisan his church had become his revenge his protestation, his own share of the glory the house of the Lord where he would triumph in his sacred vestments and whence he would conduct endless processions in compliance with the formal desire of the Blessed Virgin man of authority and domination as he was at bottom, a pastor of the multitude a builder of temples he experienced a restless delight in hurrying on the work with the lack of foresight of an eager man who did not allow indebtedness to trouble him but was perfectly contented so long as he always had a swarm of workmen busy on the scaffoldings and thus he saw his church rise up finished, one bright summer morning all new in the rising sun ah, that vision constantly evoked gave him courage for the struggle amidst the underhand murderous designs by which he felt himself to be enveloped his church towering above the vast square at last rose in all its colossal majesty he had decided that it should be in the Romanesque style very large, very simple its nave nearly 300 feet long its steeple 460 feet high it shone out resplendently in the clear sunlight freed on the previous day of the last scaffolding and looking quite smart in its newness with its broad courses of stone disposed with perfect regularity and in thought he sauntered around it charmed with its nudity its stupendous candour its chasteness recalling that of a virgin child for there was not a piece of sculpture not an ornament that would have uselessly loaded it the nave, transept and apse were of equal height above the entablature which was decorated with simple mouldings in the same way the apertures in the aisles and nave had no other adornments than archivolts with mouldings rising above the pier he stopped in thought before the great coloured glass windows of the transept whose roses were sparkling and passing round the building he skirted the semicircular apse against which stood the vestry building with its two rows of little windows returned never tiring of his contemplation of that regal adornments those great lines standing out against the blue sky those superposed roofs that enormous mass of stone whose solidity promised to defy centuries but when he closed his eyes he, above all else conjured up with rapturous pride a vision of the façade and steeple down below the three portals the roofs of the two lateral ones forming terraces while from the central one in the very middle of the façade the steeple boldly sprang here again columns resting on piers supported archivolts with simple mouldings against the gable at a point where there was a pinnacle and between the two lofty windows lighting up the nave was a statue of Our Lady of Lord under a canopy up above were other bays with freshly painted luffa boards buttresses started from the ground at the four corners of the steeple base becoming less and less massive from story to story till they reached the spire a bold tapering spire in stone flanked by four turrets and adorned with pinnacles and soaring upward till it vanished in the sky and to the parish priest of lord it seemed as if it were his own fervent soul which had grown and flown aloft with this spire to testify to his faith throughout the ages there on high quite close to God at other times another vision delighted him still more he thought he could see the inside of his church the first solemn mass he would perform there the coloured windows through flashes of fire brilliant like precious stones the twelve chapels, the aisles were beaming with lighted candles and he was at the high altar of marble and gold and the fourteen columns of the nave in single blocks of Pyrenean marble magnificent marble purchased with money that had come from the four corners of Christendom rose up supporting the vaulted roof while the sonorous voices of the organs filled the whole building with a hymn of joy a multitude of the faithful was gathered there kneeling on the flags in front of the choir which was screened by iron workers delicate as lace and covered with admirably carved wood the pulpit, the regal present of a great lady was a marvel of art cut in massive oak the baptismal fonts had been hewn out of hard stone by an artist of great talent pictures by masters ornamented to the walls crosses, pictures, precious monstrances sacred vestments similar to sons were piled up in the vestry cupboards and what a dream it was to be the pontiff of such a temple to reign there after having erected it with passion to bless the crowds who hastened to it from the entire earth while the flying peels from the steeple told the grotto and basilica that they had over there in old lord a rival, a victorious sister in whose great nave god triumphed also after following the Rue Saint-Pierre for a moment Dr. Charsen and his companion turned into the little Rue de l'Angèle we are coming to it said the doctor but though Pierre looked around him he could see no church there were merely some wretched hovels a whole district of poverty littered with foul buildings at length however it's the bottom of a blind alley he perceived a remnant of the half rotten palings which still surrounded the vast square site bordered by the Rue Saint-Pierre the Rue de Bagnere the Rue de l'Angèle the Rue des Gerdins we must turn to the left continued the doctor who had entered a narrow passage among the rubbish here we are and the ruin suddenly appeared amidst the ugliness and wretchedness that masked it the whole great carcass of the nave and the isles the transept and the apps was standing the walls rose on all sides to the point where the vaulting would have begun you entered as into a real church you could walk about at ease identifying all the usual parts of an edifice of this description only when you raised your eyes you saw the sky the roofs were wanting the rain could fall and the wind blow there freely some fifteen years previously the works had been abandoned and things had remained in the same state as the last workmen had left them what struck you first of all were the ten pillars of the nave and the four pillars of the choir those magnificent columns of Pyrenean marble each of a single block had a casing of planks in order to protect them from damage the bases and capitals were still in the rough awaiting the sculptors and these isolated columns thus cased in wood had a mournful aspect indeed moreover a dismal sensation filled you at the site of the whole gaping enclosure where grass had sprung up all over the ravaged bumpy soil of the isles and the nave a thick cemetery grass through which the women of the neighbourhood had ended by making paths and carried out their washing there and even now a collection of poor people's washing thick sheets, shirts in shreds and a baby's swaddling clothes was fast drying in the last rays of the sun which glided in through the broad empty bays slowly without speaking Pierre and Dr. Chasseigne walked around the inside of the church the ten chapels of the isles formed a species of compartments full of rubbish and remnants the ground of the choir had been cemented and it was marvelous to protect the crypt below against infiltrations but unfortunately the vaults must be sinking there was a hollow there which the storm of the previous night had transformed into a little lake however it was these portions of the transept and the apps which had the least suffered not a stone had moved the great central rose windows above the triforium seemed to be awaiting their coloured glass while some thick planks forgotten atop the walls of the apps might have made anyone think that the workmen would begin covering it the next day but when Pierre and the doctor had retraced their steps and went out to look at the facade the lamentable woefulness of the young ruin was displayed to their gaze on this side indeed the works had not been carried forward to anything like the same extent the porch with its three portals alone was built and fifteen years of abandonment had sufficed for the winter weather to eat into the sculptures the small columns and the archivolts had a great wave effect as though the stones deeply penetrated destroyed had melted away beneath tears the heart grieved at the sight of the decay which had attacked the work before it was even finished not yet to be and nevertheless to crumble away in this fashion under the sky to be arrested in one's colossal growth and simply strew the weeds with ruins they returned to the nave and were overcome by the frightful sadness which this assassination of a monument provoked the spacious plot of waste ground inside was littered with the remains of scaffoldings which had been pulled down when half rotten in fear lest their fall might crush people and everywhere amidst the tall grass were boards, putt logs moulds for arches mingled with bundles of old cord eaten away by damp there was also the long narrow carcass of a crane rising up like a gibbet spade handles pieces of broken wheelbarrows and heaps of greenish bricks speckled with moss and wild grass in bloom were still lying about among the forgotten materials in the beds of nettles you hear and there distinguished the rails of a little railway laid down for the trucks one of which was lying overturned in a corner but the saddest sight in all this death of things was certainly the portable engine which had remained in the shed that sheltered it for fifteen years it had been standing there cold and lifeless a part of the roof of the shed had ended by falling in upon it and now the rain drenched it through great holes at every shower a bit of the leather harness by which the crane was worked hung down and seemed to bind it like a thread of some gigantic spider's web and its metalwork, its steel and copper was also decaying as if rusted by lichens covered with the vegetation of old age whose yellowish patches made it look like a very ancient grass-grown machine which the winters had preyed upon this lifeless engine this cold engine with its empty firebox and its silent boiler was like the very soul of the departed labour vainly awaiting the advent of some great charitable heart whose coming through the eglentine and the brambles would awake this sleeping church in the wood from its heavy slumber of ruin at last Dr. Chausenius spoke ah, he said when one thinks that 50,000 francs would have sufficed to prevent such a disaster with 50,000 francs the roof could have been put on the heavy work would have been saved and one could have waited patiently but they wanted to kill the work just as they had killed the man with a gesture he designated the fathers of the grotto whom he avoided naming and to think he continued that their annual receipts are 800,000 francs 32,000 pounds however they prefer to send presents to Rome to propitiate powerful friends there in spite of himself he was again opening hostilities against the adversaries of Curie Péramal the whole story caused a holy anger of justice to haunt him face to face with those lamentable ruins he returned to the facts the enthusiastic Curie starting on the building of his beloved church and getting deeper and deeper into debt whilst Father Sampé ever on the lookout took advantage of each of his mistakes discrediting him with the bishop arresting the flow of offerings and finally stopping the works then after the conquered man was dead had come interminable lawsuits lawsuits lasting 15 years which gave the winters time to devour the building and now it was in such a woeful state and the debt had risen to such an enormous figure that all seemed over the slow death, the death of the stones was becoming irrevocable the portable engine beneath its tumbling shed would fall to pieces pounded by the rain and eaten away by the moss I know very well that they chant victory resumed the doctor that they alone remain it is just what they wanted to be the absolute masters to have all the power all the money for themselves alone I may tell you that their terror of competition has even made them intrigue against the religious orders that have attempted to come to Lord Jesuits, Dominicans, Benedictines Capuchins and Carmelites have made applications at various times and the fathers of the Grotto have always succeeded in keeping them away they only tolerate the female orders and will only have one flock and the town belongs to them they have opened shop there and sell god there wholesale and retail walking slowly he had while speaking returned to the middle of the nave amidst the ruins and with a sweeping wave of the arm he pointed to all the devastation surrounding him look at this sadness this frightful wretchedness over yonder the rosary and basilica cost them three millions of francs £120,000 then as in Bernadette's cold dark room Pierre saw the basilica rise before him radiant in its triumph it was not here that you found the realisation of the dream of Curé Peramal officiating and blessing kneeling multitudes while the organs resounded joyfully the basilica over yonder appeared vibrating with the peeling of its bells clamorous with the superhuman joy an accomplished miracle all sparkling with its countless lights its banners, its lamps its hearts of silver and gold its clergy attired in gold and its monstrance akin to a golden star it flamed in the setting sun it touched the heavens with its spire amidst the soaring of the milliards of prayers which caused its walls to quiver here however was the church that had died before being born the church placed under interdict by a mandamus of the bishop the church falling into dust and opened to the four winds of heaven each storm carried away a little more of the stones big flies buzzed all alone among the nettles which had invaded the nave and there were no other devotees than the poor women of the neighbourhood who came to turn their sorry linen spread upon the grass it seemed amidst the mournful silence as though a low voice was sobbing perhaps the voice of the marble columns weeping over their useless beauty under their wooden shirts at times birds would fly across the deserted apse uttering a shrill cry bands of enormous rats which had taken refuge under bits of the lowered scaffoldings would fight and bite and bound out of their holes in a gallop of terror and nothing could have been more heart-rending than the sight of this predetermined ruin face to face with its triumphant rival the basilica which beamed with gold again Dr. Sharsenya curtly said come they left the church and following the left isle reached a door roughly fashioned out of a few planks nailed together and when they had passed down a half-demolished wooden staircase the steps of which shook beneath their feet they found themselves in the crypt it was a low vault with squat arches on exactly the same plan as the choir the thick, stunted columns left in the rough also awaited their sculptors materials were lying about pieces of wood were rotting on the beaten ground the whole vast hall was white with plaster in it and the walls of the church the whole vast hall was white with plaster in the disorderly abandonment in which unfinished buildings are left at the far end three bays formally glazed but in which not a pane of glass remained threw a clear cold light upon the desolate bareness of the walls and there in the middle lay Curie Perramal's corpse some pious friends had conceived the touching idea of thus burying him in the crypt of his unfinished church the tomb stood on a broad step and was all marble the inscriptions in letters of gold expressed the feelings of the subscribers the cry of truth and reparation that came from the monument itself you read on the face this tomb has been erected by the aid of pious offerings from the entire universe to the blessed memory of the great servant of Our Lady of Lord on the right side were these words from a brief of Pope Pius IX you have entirely devoted yourself to erecting a temple to the mother of God and on the left was these words from the New Testament happier they who suffer persecution for justice's sake did not these inscriptions embody the true plaint the legitimate hope of the vanquished man who had fought so long in the sole desire of strictly executing the commands of the virgin as transmitted to him by Bernadette she, Our Lady of Lord was there personified by a slender statuette standing above the commemorative inscription against the naked wall the decorations were a few bead wreaths hanging from nails and before the tomb as before the grotto were five or six benches in rows for the faithful who desired to sit down but with another gesture of sorrowful compassion Dr. Chasseigne had silently pointed out to Pierre a huge damp spot which was turning the wall at the far end quite green Pierre remembered the little lake which he had noticed up above on the cracked cement flooring of the choir quite a quantity of water left under the storm of the previous night infiltration had evidently commenced a perfect stream ran down invading the crypt whenever there was heavy rain and they both felt a pang at their hearts when they perceived that the water was trickling along the vaulted roof in narrow threads and then spalling in large regular rhythmical drops upon the tomb the doctor could not restrain a groan now it rains he said it rains on him Pierre remained motionless in a kind of awe in the presence of that falling water at the thought of the blasts which must rush at winter time through the glassless windows that corpse appeared to him both woeful and tragic it acquired a fierce grandeur lying there alone in its splendid marble tomb amidst all the rubbish at the bottom of the crumbling ruins of its own church it was the solitary guardian the dead sleeper and dreamer watching over the empty spaces open to all the birds of night obstinate eternal protest and it was expectation also Curie Perramal stretched in his coffin having all eternity before him to acquire patience there without weariness awaited the workmen who would perhaps return thither some fine April morning if they should take ten years to do so he would be there and if it should take them a century he would be there still he was waiting for the rotten scaffoldings up above among the grass of the nave to be resuscitated like the dead and by the force of some miracle to stand upright once more along the walls he was waiting too for the moss covered engine to become all at once burning hot recover its breath and raise the timbers for the roof his beloved enterprise his gigantic building was crumbling about his head and yet with joined hands and closed eyes he was watching over its ruins watching and waiting too in a low voice the doctor finished the cruel story telling how after persecuting Curie Paramal and his work they persecuted his tomb they had formerly been a bust of the Curie there and pious hands had kept a little lamp burning before it but a woman had one day fallen with her face to the earth saying that she had perceived the soul of the deceased and there upon the fathers of the grotto were in a flutter were miracles about to take place there the sequel already passed entire days there seated on the benches before the tomb others knelt down kissed the marble and prayed to be cured and at this a feeling of terror arose supposing they should be cured supposing the grotto should find a competitor in this matter lying all alone amidst the old tools left there by the masons the bishop of Talb informed and influenced there upon published the mandamus which placed the church under interdict forbidding all worship there and all pilgrimages and processions to the tomb of the former priest of Lourdes as in the case of Bernadette his memory was proscribed his portrait could be found officially nowhere in the same manner as they had shown themselves merciless against the living man so did the fathers prove merciless to his memory they pursued him even in his tomb they alone again nowadays prevented the works of the church from being preceded with by raising continual obstacles and absolutely refusing to share their rich harvest of arms and they seemed to be waiting for the winter rains to fall to complete the work of destruction for the vaulted roof of the crypt the walls the whole gigantic pile to crumble down upon the tomb of the martyr upon the body of the defeated man so that he might be buried beneath them and at last pounded to dust ah, murmured the doctor I who knew him so valiant so enthusiastic in all noble labour now you see it it rains it rains on him painfully he set himself in his knees and found relief in a long prayer Pierre who could not pray remained standing compassionate sorrow was overflowing from his heart he listened to the heavy drops from the roof as one by one they broke on the tomb with a slow, rhythmical pitter-patter which seemed to be numbering the seconds of eternity amidst the profound silence and he reflected on the eternal misery of this world on the choice which suffering makes in always falling on the best the two great makers of Our Lady of Lord Bernadette and Curie Père Amal rose up in the flesh again before him like woeful victims tortured during their lives and exiled after their deaths that alone indeed would have completed within him the destruction of his faith for the Bernadette whom he had just found at the end of his researches was but a human sister loaded with every dolor but nonetheless he preserved a tender brotherly veneration for her and two tears slowly trickled down his cheeks end of section 20 section 21 of Lourdes this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please contact LibriVox.org Lourdes by Emile Zola translated by Ernest Visitelli the fifth day one egotism and love again that night Pierre at the hotel of the apparitions was unable to obtain a wink of sleep after calling at the hospital to inquire after Marie who since her return from the procession had been soundly enjoying the delicious restoring sleep of a child he had gone to bed himself feeling anxious at the prolonged absence of Monsieur de Gelsin he had expected him at latest at dinnertime but probably some mischance had detained him at Gavarni but our disappointed Marie would be if her father were not there to embrace her the first thing in the morning with a man like Monsieur de Gelsin so pleasantly heedless and so harebrained everything was possible every fear might be realised perhaps this anxiety had at first sufficed to keep Pierre awake in spite of his great fatigue but afterwards the nocturnal noises of the hotel had really assumed unbearable proportions the morrow, Tuesday was the day of departure when the pilgrimage would spend at Lourdes and the pilgrims no doubt were making the most of their time coming from the grotto and returning thither in the middle of the night endeavouring as it were to force the grace of heaven by their commotion and apparently never feeling the slightest need of repose the doors slammed the floors shook the entire building vibrated beneath the disorderly gallop of a crowd never before had the walls reverberated with such obstinate coughs such thick husky voices a prey to insomnia tossed about on his bed and continually rose up beset with the idea that the noise he heard must have been made by Monsieur de Gelsin who had returned for some minutes he would listen feverishly but he could only hear the extraordinary sounds of the passage amid which he could distinguish nothing precisely was it the priest, the mother and her three daughters or the old married couple on his left who were fighting with the furniture or was it rather the larger family or the single gentleman or the single woman on his right whom some incomprehensible occurrences were leading into adventures at one moment he jumped from his bed wishing to explore his absent friend's empty room as he felt certain that some deeds of violence were taking place in it but although he listened very attentively when he got there the only sound he could distinguish was the tender caressing murmur of two voices then a sudden recollection of Madame Volmaire came to him and he returned shuddering to bed at length when it was broad daylight and Pierre had just fallen asleep a loud knocking at his door awoke him with a start this time there could be no mistake a loud voice broken by sobs was calling Monsieur Labé, Monsieur Labé for heaven's sake wake up surely it must be Monsieur de Gersin who had been brought back dead at least quite scared Pierre ran and opened the door in his night-shirt and found himself in the presence of his neighbour Monsieur Vigneron oh for heaven's sake Monsieur Labé dress yourself at once he exclaimed the assistant head-clark your holy ministry is required and he began to relate that he had just got up to see the time by his watch on the mantelpiece when he had heard the most frightful sighs issuing from the adjoining room where Madame Chez slept she had left the communicating door open in order to be more with them as she pleasantly expressed it accordingly he had hastened in and flung the shutters open so as to admit both light and air and what a sight Monsieur Labé he continued our poor aunt lying on her bed nearly purple in the face already her mouth wide open in a vain effort to breathe and her hands fumbling with the sheet it's her heart complaint you know come come at once Monsieur Labé and help her I implore you Pierre utterly bewildered could find neither his breeches nor his cassock of course of course I'll come with you said he but I have not what is necessary for administering the last sacraments Monsieur Vigneron had assisted him to dress and was now stooping down looking for his slippers never mind he said the mere sight of you will assist her in her last moments if heaven has this affliction in store for us here put these on your feet and follow me at once oh once he went off like a gust of wind and plunged into the adjoining room all the doors remained wide open the young priest who followed him noticed nothing in the first room which was in an incredible state of disorder beyond the half-naked figure of little Gustave who sat on the sofa serving him as a bed motionless very pale forgotten and shivering amid this drama of inexorable death open bags littered the floor the greasy remains of supper soiled to the table the parents bed seemed devastated by the catastrophe its coverlets torn off and lying on the ground and almost immediately afterwards he caught sight of the mother who had hastily enveloped herself in an old yellow dressing gown standing with a terrified look in the inner room well my love well my love repeated Monsieur Vigneron in stammering accents with a wave of her hand and without uttering a word Madame Vigneron drew their attention to Madame Chez who lay motionless with her head sunk in the pillow and her hand stiffened and twisted she was blue in the face and her mouth gaped as though with the great last gasp that had come from her Pierre bent over her then in a low voice he said she is dead the word rang out in that more tidy room where a heavy silence reigned and the husband and wife looked at each other in amazement bewilderment so it was over the aunt had died before Gustav and the youngster inherited her 500,000 francs how many times had they dwelt on that dream whose sudden realisation dumbfounded them how many times had despair overcome them when they feared that the poor child might depart before her dead good heavens was it their fault had they really prayed to the blessed virgin for this she had shown herself so good to them that they trembled at the thought that they had not been able to express a wish without it being granted in the death of the chief clerk so suddenly carried off so that they might have his place they had already recognised the powerful hand of our lady of lord had she again loaded them with favours listening even to the unconscious dreams of their desire yet they had never desired anyone's death they were worthy people incapable of any bad action loving their relations fulfilling their religious duties going to confession partaking of the communion like other people without any ostentation whenever they thought of those 500,000 francs of their son who might be the first to go and of the annoyance it would be to them to see another and far less worthy nephew inherit that fortune it was merely in the innermost recesses of their hearts in short quite innocently and naturally certainly they had thought of it when they were at the grotto but was not the blessed virgin wisdom itself did she not know far better than ourselves what she ought to do for the happiness of both the living and the dead then madame vigneron in all sincerity burst into tears and wept for the sister whom she loved so much ah monsieur la baie she said I saw her expire she passed away before my eyes what a misfortune that you were not here sooner to receive her soul she died without a priest your presence would have consoled her so much a prayer also to emotion his eyes full of tears vigneron sought to console his wife your sister was a saint said he she communicated again yesterday morning and you need have no anxiety concerning her her soul has gone straight to heaven no doubt if monsieur la baie had been here in time she would have been glad to see him but what would you death was quicker I went at once and really there is nothing for us to approach ourselves with then turning towards the priest he added monsieur la baie it was her excessive piety which certainly hastened her end yesterday at the grotto she had a bad attack which was a warning and in spite of her fatigue she obstinately followed the procession afterwards I thought then that she could not last long yet out of delicacy one did not like to say anything to her for fear of frightening her Pierre gently knelt down and said customary prayers with that human emotion which was his nearest approach to faith in the presence of eternal life and eternal death both so pitiful then as he remained kneeling a little longer he overheard snatches of the conversation around him little Gustave forgotten on his couch amid the disorder of the other room must have lost patience for he had begun to cry and call out mama mama mama at length madame vigneron went to quiet him and it occurred to her to carry him in her arms to kiss his poor aunt for the last time but at first he struggled and refused crying so much that monsieur vigneron was obliged to interfere and to try to make him ashamed of himself what he who was never frightened of anything who bore suffering with the courage of a grown-up man and to think it was a question of kissing his poor aunt who had always been so kind whose last thought must most certainly have been for him give him to me said he to his wife he's going to be good Gustave ended by clinging to his father's neck he came shivering in his night's shirt displaying his wretched little body devoured by scroffula it seemed indeed as though the miraculous water of the piscinas far from curing him had freshened the sore on his back whilst his scraggly leg hung down inertly like a dry stick kiss her resumed monsieur vigneron the child lent forward and kissed his aunt on the forehead it was not death which upset him and caused him to struggle since he had been in the room he had been looking at the dead woman with an air of quiet curiosity he did not love her he had suffered on her account so long he had the ideas and feelings of a man and the weight of them was stifling him as they developed and became more acute at the same time as his complaint he felt full well that he was too little that children ought not to understand what only concerns their elders however his father seating himself out of the way kept him on his knee and his mother closed the window and lit the two candles on the mantelpiece ah my poor dear murmured monsieur vigneron feeling that he must say something it's a cruel loss for all of us our trip is now completely spoiled this is our last day for we start this afternoon and the Blessed Virgin too was showing herself so kind to us however seeing his son's surprised look a look of infinite sadness and reproach he hastened to add yes of course that she hasn't yet quite cured you but we must not despair of her kindness she loves us so well she shows us so many favours that she will certainly end by curing you since that is now the only favour that remains for her to grant us madame vigneron who was listening drew near and said how happy we should have been to have returned to Paris all three hail and hearty nothing is ever perfect I say suddenly observed monsieur vigneron I shan't be able to leave with you this afternoon on account of the formalities which have to be gone through I hope that my return ticket will still be available tomorrow they were both getting over the frightful shock feeling a sense of relief in spite of their affection for madame chaise and in fact they were already forgetting her anxious above all things to leave lured as soon as possible as though the principal object of their journey had been attained a decorous unavoured delight was slowly penetrating them when I get back to Paris there will be so much for me to do continued monsieur vigneron I who now only long for repose all the same I shall remain my three years at the ministry until I can retire especially now that I am certain of the retiring pension of chief clerk but afterwards oh afterwards I certainly hope to enjoy life a bit since this money has come to us I shall purchase the estate of Leby Yacht that superb property down at my native place which I have always been dreaming of and I promise you that I shan't find time hanging heavy on my hands in the midst of my horses, my dogs and my flowers little Gustav was still on his father's knee his night-shirt rucked up his whole wretched misshapen body shivering and displaying the thinness of a slowly dying child when he perceived that his father now full of his dream of an opulent life no longer seemed to notice that he was there he gave one of his enigmatic smiles in which melancholy was tinged with malice but what about me father he asked Monsieur Vigneron started like one aroused from sleep and did not at first seem to understand you little one you'll be with us of course but Gustav gave him a long straight look without ceasing to smile with his artful though woeful lips oh do you think so he asked of course I think so you'll be with us and it will be very nice to be with us uneasy stammering unable to find the proper words Monsieur Vigneron felt a chill come over him when his son shrugged his skinny shoulders with an air of philosophical disdain and answered oh no I shall be dead and then the terrified father was suddenly able to detect in the child's deep glance the glance of a man who was very aged very knowing in all things acquainted with all the abominations of life through having gone through them what especially alarmed him was the abrupt conviction that this child had always seen into the innermost recesses of his heart even farther than the things he dared to acknowledge to himself he could recall that when the little sufferer had been but a baby in his cradle his eyes would frequently be fixed upon his own and even then those eyes had been rendered so sharp by suffering endowed too with such an extraordinary power of divination that they had seemed able to dive into the unconscious thoughts buried in the depths of his brain and by a singular counter-effect all the things that he had never owned to himself he now found in his child's eyes he beheld them read them there against his will the story of his cupidity lay unfolded before him his anger at having such a sorry son his anguish at the idea that madame shes's fortune depended upon such a fragile existence his eager desire that she might make hasten die while the youngster was still there in order that he might finger the legacy it was simply a question of days this duel as to which should go off first and then at the end it still meant death the youngster must in his turn disappear whilst he the father alone pocketed the cash and lived joyfully to a good old age and these frightful things shone forth so clearly from the keen melancholy smiling eyes of the poor condemned child passed from son to father with such evident distinctness that for a moment it seemed to them that they were shouting them aloud however monsieur Vigneron struggled against it all and averting his head began energetically protesting how? you'll be dead what an idea it's absurd to have such ideas as that meantime madame Vigneron was sobbing you wicked child she gasped how can you make us so unhappy when we already have such a cruel loss to deplore Gustav had to kiss them and to promise them that he would live for their sakes yet he did not see smiling conscious as he was that a lie is necessary when one does not wish to be too miserable and quite prepared moreover to leave his parents happy behind him since even the blessed virgin herself was powerless to grant him in this world the little happy lot to which each creature should be born his mother took him back to bed and Pierre at length rose up just as monsieur Vigneron had finished arranging the chamber of death in a suitable manner you'll excuse me won't you monsieur l'abbe said he accompanying the young priest to the door I'm not quite myself well it's an unpleasant time to go through I must get over it somehow however when Pierre got into the passage he stopped for a moment listening to a sound of voices which was ascending the stairs he had just been thinking of monsieur de Gersaint again and imagined that he could recognize his voice however whilst he stood there waiting an incident occurred which caused him intense discomfort the door of the room next to monsieur de Gersaint softly opened and a woman clad in black slipped quickly into the passage as she turned she found herself face to face with Pierre in such a fashion that it was impossible for them to pretend not to recognize each other the woman was madame volmar six o'clock had not yet struck and she was going off hoping that nobody would notice her with the intention of showing herself at the hospital and there spending this last morning in order in some measure to justify her journey to Lourdes when she perceived Pierre she began to tremble and at first could only stammer monsieur l'abbe then noticing that the priest had left his door wide open she seemed to give way to the fever consuming her to a need of speaking out explaining things and justifying herself with her face suffused by a rush of blood she entered the young man's room whether he had to follow her greatly disturbed by this strange adventure and as he still left the door open it was she who in her desire to confide her sorrow and her sin to him begged that he would close it oh I pray you monsieur l'abbe said she do not judge me too harshly he made a gesture as though to reply that he did not allow himself the right to pass judgment upon her but yes but yes she responded I know very well that you are acquainted with my misfortune you saw me once in Paris behind the church of La Trinité and the other day you recognized me on the balcony here you were aware that I was there in that room but if you only knew oh if you only knew her lips were quivering and tears were welling into her eyes as he looked at her he was surprised by the extraordinary beauty transfiguring her face this woman invariably clad in black extremely simple with never a jewel now appeared to him in all the brilliancy of her passion no longer drawing back into the gloom no longer seeking to bedim the lustre of her eyes as was her wound she who at first sight did not seem pretty but too dark and slender with drawn features a large mouth assumed as he now examined her a troubling charm a powerful irresistible beauty her eyes especially her large magnificent eyes whose braziers she usually sought to cover with a veil of indifference were flaring like torches and he understood that she should be loved adored to madness if you only knew Monsieur Laby she continued if I were only to tell you all that I have suffered doubtless you have suspected something of it my husband on the few occasions when you have called on us you cannot but have understood some of the abominable things which go on in my home though I have always striven to appear happy in my little silent corner but to live like that for ten years to have no existence never to love, never to be loved no, no it was beyond my power and then she related the whole painful story her marriage with the diamond merchant a disastrous though it seemed an advantageous one her mother-in-law with the stern soul of a jailer or an executioner and her husband a monster of physical ugliness and mental villainy they imprisoned her they did not even allow her to look out of a window they had beaten her they had pitilessly assailed her in her tastes her inclinations in all her feminine weaknesses she knew that her husband wandered in his affections and yet if she smiled to a relative if she had a flower in her corsage on some rare day of gaiety he would tear it from her and seize and bruise her wrists whilst shouting the most fearful threats for years and years she had lived in that hell hoping, hoping still, having within her such a power of life such an ardent need of affection that she continued waiting for happiness ever thinking at the faintest breath that it was about to enter I swear to you M. Labé said she that I could not do otherwise than I have done I was too unhappy my whole being longed for someone to care for me and when my friend the first time told me that he loved me it was all over I was his forever to be loved, to be spoken too gently to have someone near you who is always solicitous and amiable to know that in absence he thinks of you that there is a heart somewhere in which you live if it be a crime M. Labé I cannot, cannot feel remorse for it I will not even say that I was urged to it I simply say that it came to me as naturally as my breath because it was as necessary to my life she had carried her hand to her lips as though to throw a kiss to the world and Pierre felt deeply disturbed in presence of this lovely woman who personified all the ardour of human passion and at the same time a feeling of deep pity began to arise within him poor woman he murmured it is not to the priest that I am confessing she resumed it is to the man that I am speaking to a man by whom I should greatly like to be understood I am not a believer religion has not sufficed me it is said that some women find contentment in it a firm protection even against all transgressions but I have ever felt cold in church weary unto death oh I know very well that it is wrong to feign piety to mingle religion with my heart affairs but what would you I am forced to it if you saw me in Paris behind the trinité it was because that church is the only place to which I am allowed to go alone and if you find me here at Lourdes it is because in the whole long year I have but these three days of happiness and freedom again she began to tremble hot tears were coursing down her cheeks a vision of it all arose in Pierre's mind and distracted by the thought of the ardent earthly love which possessed this unhappy creature he again murmured poor woman and Monsieur Labis she continued think of the hell to which I am about to return for weeks and months I live my life I started him without complaint another year another year must go by without a day an hour of happiness ah I am indeed very unhappy Monsieur Labis yet do you not think all the same that I am a good woman he had been deeply moved by her sincere display of mingled grief and passion he felt in her the breath of universal desire a sovereign flame and his compassion overflowed from his heart and his words were words of pardon madame he said I pity you and respect you infinitely then she spoke no further but looked at him with her large tear-blurred eyes and suddenly catching hold of both his hands she grasped them tightly with her burning fingers and then she went off vanishing down the passage as light as ethereal as a shadow however Pierre suffered from her presence in that room even more acutely after she had departed he opened the window wide that the fresh air might carry off the breath of passion which she had left there already on the Sunday when he had seen her on the balcony he had been seized with terror at the thought that she personified the revenge of the world and the flesh amidst all the mystical exaltation of immaculate lord and now his terror was returning to him love seemed stronger than faith and perhaps it was only love that was divine to love to belong to one another, to create and continue life was not that the one sole object of nature outside of all social and religious policies for a moment he was conscious of the abyss before him his chastity was his last prop the very dignity of his spoiled life and he realized that if after yielding to his reason he also yielded to his flesh he would be utterly lost all his pride of purity all his strength which he had placed in his professional rectitude thereupon returned to him and he again vowed that he would never be a man since he had voluntarily cut himself off from among men seven o'clock was striking and Pierre did not go back to bed but began to wash himself thoroughly enjoying the cool water which ended by calming his fever as he finished dressing the anxious thought of Michel de Gelsin recurred to him on hearing a sound of footsteps in the passage these steps stopped outside his room and someone knocked with a feeling of relief he went to open the door but on doing so exclaimed in great surprise what it's you how is it that you're already up running about to see people Marie stood on the threshold smiling whilst behind her was sister Yia Saint who had come with her and who also was smiling with her lovely candid eyes Ah, my friend said the girl I could not remain in bed I sprang out directly I saw the sunshine I had such a longing to walk to run and jump about like a child and I begged and implored so much that sister was good enough to come with me I think I should have got out through the window if the door had been closed against me Pierre ushered them in and an indescribable emotion oppressed him as he heard her jest so gaily and saw her move about so freely with such grace and liveliness she, good heavens she whom he had seen for years with lifeless legs and colourless face since he had left her the day before at the Basilica she had blossomed into full youth and beauty one night had sufficed for him to find again developed it is true the sweet creature whom he had loved so tenderly the superb radiant child whom he had embraced so wildly in the bygone days behind the flowering hedge beneath the sun-flect trees how tall and lovely you are, Marie he said in spite of himself then sister Ia Sainte interposed hasn't the Blessed Virgin done things well, Monsieur Labais when she takes us in hand you see she turns us out as fresh as roses and smelling quite as sweet ah, resumed Marie I'm so happy I feel quite strong and well and spotless as though I had just been born all this was very delicious to Pierre it seemed to him that the atmosphere was now truly purified of Madame Volmaire's presence Marie filled the room with her candour with the perfume and brightness of her innocent youth and yet the joy he felt at the sight of pure beauty and life reflowering was not exempt from sadness for after all the revolt which he had felt in the crypt the wound of his wrecked life must forever leave him a bleeding heart as he gazed upon all that resuscitated grace as the woman he loved thus reappeared before him in the flower of her youth he could not but remember that she would never be his that he belonged no longer to the world but to the grave however he no longer lamented he experienced a boundless melancholy a sensation of utter nothingness as he told himself that he was dead that this dawn of beauty was rising on the tomb in which his manhood slept it was renunciation, accepted resolved upon amidst all the desolate grandeur attaching to those lives which are led contrary to nature's law then like the other woman, the impassioned one Marie took hold of Pierre's hands but hers was so soft, so fresh, so soothing she looked at him with some little confusion and a great longing which she dared not express after a while however she summoned up her courage and said will you kiss me, Pierre? it would please me so much he shuddered his heart crushed by this last torture ah, the kisses of other days those kisses which had ever lingered on his lips never since had he kissed her and today she was like a sister flinging her arms around his neck she kissed him with a loud smack on both his cheeks and offering her own insisted on his doing likewise to her so twice in his turn he embraced her I too, Marie, said he, am pleased very pleased, I assure you and then overcome by emotion his courage exhausted whilst at the same time filled with delight and bitterness he burst into sobs weeping with his face buried in his hands like a child seeking to hide its tears come, come, we must not give way said sister Yersaint Gailly Monsieur Labire would feel too proud if he fancied that we had merely come on his account Monsieur de Gersaint is about, isn't he? Marie raised a cry of deep affection ah, my dear father after all it's he who'll be most pleased thereupon Pierre had to relate that Monsieur de Gersaint had not returned from his excursion to Gavarni his increasing anxiety showed itself while he spoke although he sought to explain his friend's absence surmising all sorts of obstacles and unforeseen complications Marie, however, did not seem afraid but again laughed saying that her father never could be punctual still she was extremely eager for him to see her walking to find her on her legs again resuscitated in the fresh blossoming of her youth all at once sister Yersaint who had gone to lean over the balcony returned to the room saying here he comes, he's down below just alighting from his carriage ah, cried Marie with the eager playfulness of a schoolgirl let's give him a surprise yes, we must hide and when he's here we'll show ourselves all of a sudden with these words she hastily dragged sister Yersaint into the adjoining room almost immediately afterwards Monsieur de Gersaint entered like a whirlwind from the passage, the door communicating with which had been quickly opened by Pierre and shaking the young priest's hand the belated excursionist exclaimed here I am at last ah, my friend, you can't have known what to think since four o'clock yesterday when you expected me back, eh? but you have no idea of the adventures we have had to begin with, one of the wheels of our lundow came off just as we reached Gavarni then yesterday evening though we managed to start off again a frightful storm detained us all night long at Saint-Sauveur I wasn't able to sleep a wink then breaking off he inquired and you, are you all right? I wasn't able to sleep either, said the priest they made such a noise in the hotel but Monsieur de Gersaint had already started off again all the same it was delightful I must tell you, you can't imagine it I was with three delightful churchmen Abedir Moise is certainly the most charming man I know oh, we did laugh, we did laugh then he again stopped to inquire and how's my daughter? there upon a clear laugh behind him caused him to turn round and he remained with his mouth wide open Marie was there and was walking with a look of rapturous delight upon her face which was beaming with health he had never for a moment doubted the miracle and was not in the least surprised that it had taken place for he had returned with the conviction that everything would end well and that he would surely find her cured but what so utterly astounded him did just spectacle which he had not foreseen his daughter looking so beautiful so divine in her little black gown his daughter who had not even brought a hat with her and merely had a piece of lace tied over her lovely fair hair his daughter full of life blooming, triumphant, similar to all the daughters of all the fathers whom he had envied for so many years oh my child, oh my child he exclaimed and as she had flown into his arms he pressed her to his heart upon their knees together everything disappeared from before them in a radiant effusion of faith and love this heedless, hair-brained man who fell asleep instead of accompanying his daughter to the grotto who went off to Gavarni on the day the Blessed Virgin was to cure her overflowed with such paternal affection with such Christian faith so exalted by thankfulness that for a moment he appeared sublime oh Jesus oh Mary let me thank you for having restored my child to me oh my child, we shall never have breath enough soul enough to render thanks to Mary and Jesus for the great happiness they have vouchsaved us oh my child whom they have resuscitated oh my child whom they have made so beautiful again take my heart to offer it to them with your own I am yours, I am theirs eternally oh my beloved child my adored child kneeling before the open window they both with uplifted eyes gazed ardently on heaven the daughter had rested her head upon her father's shoulder whilst he had passed an arm round her waist they had become one tears slowly trickled down their enraptured faces which were smiling with superhuman felicity whilst they stammered together disconnected expressions of gratitude oh Jesus we give thee thanks oh holy mother of Jesus we give thee thanks we love you, we adore you both you have rejuvenated the best blood in our veins it is yours, it circulates only for you oh all powerful mother oh divine and well-beloved son behold a daughter and a father who bless you who prostrate themselves with joy at your feet so affecting was this mingling of two beings happy at last after so many dark days this happiness which could but stammer as though still tinged with suffering that Pierre was again moved to tears but this time there were soothing tears which relieved his heart poor pitiable humanity how pleasant it was to see it somewhat consoled and enraptured and what did it matter after all if its great joys of a few seconds duration sprang from the eternal illusion was not the whole of humanity pitiable humanity saved by love personified by that poor childish man who suddenly became sublime because he found his daughter resuscitated standing a little aside Sister Yersaint was also weeping her heart very full full of human emotion which she had never before experienced, she who had known no other parents than the Almighty blessed Virgin silence had now fallen in this room full of so much tearful fraternity and it was she who spoke the first when the father and the daughter overcome with emotion at length rose up now Mademoiselle said she we must be quick and get back to the hospital but they all protested Monsieur de Gersaint wished to keep his daughter with him and Marie's eyes expressed an eager desire, a longing to enjoy life to walk and ramble through the whole vast world oh no nose said the father I won't give her back to you we'll each have a cup of milk for I'm dying of thirst then we'll go out and walk about yes yes both of us she shall take my arm like a little woman Sister Yersaint laughed again very well said she I'll leave her with you and tell the ladies that you've stolen her from me but for my own part I must be off you've no idea what an amount of work we have to get through at the hospital if we are to be ready in time to leave there are all the patients and things to be seen to and all is in the greatest confusion so today's really Tuesday and we leave this afternoon asked Monsieur de Gersaint already absent-minded again of course we do and don't forget the white train starts at 3.40 and if you're sensible you'll bring your daughter back early so that she may have a little rest Marie walked with the sister to the door saying be easy I will be very good besides I want to go back to the grotto to thank the Blessed Virgin once more when they found themselves all three alone in the little room full of sunshine it was delicious Pierre called the servant and told her to bring them some milk some chocolate and cakes in fact the nicest things he could think of and although Marie had already broken her fast she ate again so great an appetite had come upon her since the night before they drew the table to the window and made quite a feast amidst the keen air from the mountains whilst the hundred bells of lured proclaimed with flying peels the glory of that radiant day they chatted and laughed and the young woman told her father the story of the miracle with all the oft-repeated details she related too how she had left her box at the Basilica and how she had slept 12 hours without stirring then Monsieur de Gersaint on his side wished to relate his excursion but got mixed and kept coming back to the miracle finally it appeared that the Cirque de Gavarnie was something colossal only when you looked at it from a distance it seemed small for you lost all sense of proportion the gigantic snow-covered tears of cliffs the topmost ridge standing out against the sky with the outlines of some cyclopean fortress with raised keep and jagged ramparts the great cascade whose ceaseless jets seemed so slow when in reality it must have rushed down with a noise like thunder the whole immensity the forests on right and left the torrents and the landslips looked as though they might have been held in the palm of one's hand upon them from the village marketplace and what had impressed him most what he repeatedly alluded to were the strange figures described by the snow which had remained up there amongst the rocks among others was a huge crucifix a white cross several thousand yards in length which you might have thought had been thrown across the amphitheater from one end to the other however all at once Monsieur de Gersaint broke off to inquire by the way what's happening at our neighbours as I came upstairs a little while ago I met Monsieur Vigneron running about like a madman and through the open doorway of their room I fancied I saw Madame Vigneron looking very red as their son Gustave had another attack Pierre had quite forgotten Madame Chez lying dead on the other side of the partition he seemed to feel a cold breath pass over him no, no he answered the child is all right and he said no more, preferring to remain silent why spoil this happy hour of new life and reconquer youth by mingling it with the image of death however from that moment he himself could not cease thinking of the proximity of nothingness and he thought too of that other room where Madame Vollmar's friend was now alone stifling his sobs with his lips pressed upon a pair of gloves which he had stolen from her all the sounds of the hotel were now becoming audible again the coughs, the sighs, the indistinct voices the continual slamming of doors the creaking of the floors beneath the great accumulation of travellers and all the stir in the passages along which flying skirts were sweeping and families galloping distractedly amidst the hurry scurry of departure on my word you'll do yourself an injury all at once cried Monsieur de Gersin on seeing his daughter take up another cake Marie was quite merry too but at a sudden thought tears came into her eyes and she exclaimed ah, how glad I am but also how sorry when I think that everybody is not as pleased as myself in section 21


Hello and welcome to Newsclick. Today, we are going to discuss the 100 year of Jalena Bagh massacre and the fact that the British have yet to express anything beyond a rather bland regret for what happened as if it was a meteor strike or shall we say an earthquake and they did not have any agency regarding that. Dilaljan, to discuss this and you have been, I would not say student of history but you have been a journalist with a deep interest in history, keen interest in history. How do you see the politics of a regret which does not talk about who it was done by and I would like you to think about the fact that once the High Court case was there on the Mao massacre by people who are asking for reparations, actually the British government, the Foreign Minister, ex-gave a formal apology on behalf of the British crown to the Mao-Mau victims. Why is that unless they are forced, they really do not want to go beyond that? I think the British definitely have their own way of expressing things when it comes to India. They think that India should possibly settle for less. That is the impression and also in the last five years, had it not been for two MPs from the Congress party, possibly the British wouldn't even have made this statement. Our political leadership in this country have been busy with getting kudos for themselves, not to use this opportunity to realize that the centenary of the Jalena Bagh was coming. They did not use at any point this government did not utilize whatever India's growing clout, which is tom-tom in the course of the elections, to use this as to extract an apology. The Canadians did it for the Khoma Ghatamaru incident. Massacre. But you know it's interesting that Modi is getting some awards which is the order of the patron saint of Orthodox Church. And at the same time, the first version of the BJP manifesto left out Christians and Parsees from those who would be given citizenship, clear divergence from the citizenship bill which has just been passed in Loksova and is one of the major planks. Planks. So from Russia, this is what Modi has extracted, an order which is the highest award given. In fact, it was suspended during, it was abolished during the time of Soviet Union and it's been brought back by Putin, something which goes back about 400 years. Similarly, South Korea sub-award has been given. But an apology that was too much to ask, was it? Definitely. And there's something also very similar. I was actually looking at Theresa May's statement and I was with two points. One is that it's a very weak statement. That's what you said. It was not just a regret. And it doesn't depend on who did it. Secondly, it also does not accept British culpability. Incident, what? Something happened. As I was reading it, I just decided that let me mentally take off that Theresa May making the statement in the context of Jalliolabag. How many times have been in the last five years, have these kind of statements been made against violence of possibly the most gruesome nature taking place against our own people and how the BJP and its leaders have acted? Something happened, you know. Very recently in February after the Pulwama attack, you know, the Kashmiri students were being attacked everywhere. So the statement made the same thing. That it shouldn't have happened. Something like this should not happen. It is very unfortunate that it has happened. And something has happened. The express regret. There is no agent who did it. Who did it? No. And also no expression of an apology to the people that you have taken great risks by coming out of Kashmir to study here, which means that you're adhering commitment to the Indian Republic against whatever is the situation in Kashmir. So instead of applauding them, you're sending them back with nothing to really cherish. So this is part of the course in that sense. But you know, let's for the time being take out the current dispensation. But if we look at the colonial history, and it's not the colonial history in India alone in different parts of the world, but in India we have another glaring example, which is the 1943 famine. You know, and if you remember, 43 famine again, only regret that that time Church 11 commented too many Indians. If they die, what's the problem? And why is Gandhi not dying? Why is he still alive? If so many people are dying. But this and the 43 famine are two instances. British have only said, you know, they are sorry this happened, but they have not said that they had it eroded. In fact, these two incidents, if you look at the entire colonial history, you'll find that globally this was possibly among the most prominent incidents about which contemporary Britain should be completely ashamed of. But they aren't. This is where an unarmed crowd was fired upon, Jalyana Bharg as we all know. And their soldiers fired till they ran out of ammunition. Just I think in one well, 120 bodies were pulled out. And that was the extent of the massacre.  And the guns were too hot to hold. Those are those are the pictures. Even today, there is not a real definitive history about what really happened on that day, you know, because you had two commissions.  They came in different approaches, speaking to only their own people. To use that particular their own people. So as a result of which we do not have a clear coherent picture. In fact, the world, the images of Jalyana Bharg is known to the world through Richard Attenborough's film. There's also something very important, you know, I think, you know, it's in today's India it is very important to recollect not just today's India, but also globally what is happening.   Because they are not listening to us. They are not obeying the order that has been which is to shut up, not to express any resentment. That was the basic anger against it. Now, interestingly, that Gandhi in his responses right till the time that Dyer was alive till 1927, he kept saying that we should not encourage Dyerism in any way. And he kept on arguing that he was just symptomatic of a larger problem. You know, it is not that instead of individually looking and blaming him for what had happened.  I think that is very important. Globally, we are seeing that while everyone is demanding that we either condemn, you apologize, express regret. But every political leader, most of them who are populist leaders whether in India or whether in other countries, they are all practicing in some way or the other Dyerism, you do not agree with me which means that we put you in a black hole. You know, of course, we will not talk about the black hole because we just got a picture of the black hole, but leaving that out. Jalyana Bagh Massacre, there are two other elements of the Jalyana Bagh Massacre I would like you to sort of respond to. One was the first award Wapsi in India was really that. Rabindranath Thakur returning his knighthood. And for those who complain about award Wapsi which took place after various attacks, lynchings and so on. It is unfortunate, Kalburgi's murder was also the other trigger for the return of the awards. The award Wapsi is also tied up the Jalyana Bagh because it was Thakur's return of the award which also gave it a far bigger at that time legitimacy that okay, people have protested, we have to now protest. Massacres have taken place, we have now to protest it. It virtually, Jalyana Bagh was the trigger for a much larger mass movement in the country. Much larger mass movement at that time. In fact, after you said that you wanted to discuss Jalyana Bagh I was just kind of reading up and I decided to just once again read the Tagore's letter. And what two paragraphs really struck me, I just want to share it with you and also the viewers. Tagore in his letter said, the time has come when badges of honor make our shame clearing in there incongruous context of humiliation and I for my part wish to stand shorn of all special distinctions by the side of my countrymen. Just couple of sentences prior to that he said, the very least that I can do for my country is to take all consequences upon myself in giving voice to the protest of the millions of my countrymen surprised into a dumb anguish of terror. Possibly the finest words that you can actually say to tell the British Empire that I don't want your knighthood and I stand with the poorest of the poor, the most oppressed, someone who is just expressing not even a political right but just to celebrate the renewal by Sakhi Day. True and of course the voice of the writers who in 2015 returned the rewards. It was very simple and equally powerful. And look at it, you know, a wopsy gang, you know, the people using have no sense of history. You know, I was telling you about, I just want to come back, I just made a couple of other notes, you know, also I was telling about Gandhi and saying that he did not want to encourage diarism by any way by turning his face completely from dire. Now, he said certain other very interesting things in the context of Jalliwala Bagh. One is that he drew, you have to give it to Gandhi that he could draw parallels from anything, you know. So, he drew a comparison between General Dyer's act and the murder of people in the name of cow protection.  But strangers who do not accept the sacredness of a cow will hold it preposterous to kill a human being for the sake of slaying an animal. He also told Catherine Mio, you know, who wrote about Gandhi extensively, I want this country to be spared of diarism. That is, I do not want my country when it has the power to resort to frightfulness in order to impose her custom on others. Now, when I read these things, you know, I felt that this is very important to recollect, not just Tagore, but also Gandhi in the context of what the parallels that he was drawing, that how can you be so against people who have a different point of view. And we have a disagreement with Dyer, but let us not look at him only in isolation. We have to look at him as a product of the system which has bred people like Dyer. I think you have to give it to Dyer. And also the preside nature of the statement, because we do talk about intolerance, both of the rulers and those who the rulers are supporting. You see very close parallels today. And also the resistance, I want to come to the other, shall we say inspiration that Jalyanabhag, Jalyanabhag provided, which is Bhagat Singh. Bhagat Singh was 12-year-old. He went there, collected blood and dirt from the soil of Jalyanabhag.  And for him it was an inspiration for his resistance which he then pursued. Absolutely. People took away a lot of lessons for the future. In fact, we can say that Jalyanabhag had it not happened. Maybe 1947 would not have been in 1947. Could have been a few years later. So it provided a trigger. You had said that after Jalyanabhag massacred the kind of debate it generated, it led to the first real mass movement in this country, non-corporation and Khilafat movement together. That is also the time when... We had 1905, which was the Banga-Bhanga-Sudeshi movement. But it did not have the kind of Pan-Indian sweep that post-Jalyanabhag had. Also possibly it was not so socially inclusive because we have noted that during the Sudeshi movement especially there had been a lot of Hindu imagery which came out which possibly did not make it as inclusive an agitation as it may possibly have been. But that apart, definitely 1919, 1920, it really set... Also created the basic distinctions. Indian right-wing became pronounced and actually write an identifiable as a right-wing through the process of which emerged from the Jalyanabhag. If you remember in 1919, a few months after there was a special session of the Congress in Amritsar. Now at that particular point, there was a fairly strong visible Hindu nationalistic section within the Congress party led by Tilak and various others who supported the Tilakites. They participated in it and it was decided that the 1920 session is going to be held in Nagpur. So they came back, B.S. Munjay Hedgevar was also a participant in the Amritsar Congress. They came back and with the intention of making Tilak the president because they were not comfortable at that point with the kind of hobnobbing if I can to use the word at that time what Gandhi was doing with the Khilafat Congress leaders. They couldn't have Tilak because he, you know, Tilak died and so on. So then Munjay and Hedgevar went to Pondicherry to try convincing Aurobindo to become the president of the Nagpur Congress but he turned down the offer. He said that look, I am not interested. So they came back, they were a bit unhappy. That is the time when Hedgevar and Munjay start really moving away from the Gandhian Congress, so to say. And then of course the famous riots in Nagpur in 1924 which also Savarkar coming out with a treatise called Hindutva, who is a Hindu. You can see this change as a national movement. So Jali-Avalam Pagu in a way was a provided a trigger. You know, there is a poems which have been published recently and of course it was by a person who underwent the, at that time the shootings because he was buried under dead bodies and he came out and never talked about it again but he wrote down these poems. But it's also very powerful imagery that he presents in his poems of Hindu, Muslim, Sikhs being together in Jali-Avalam. And also that Saifuddin Kichlu who was otherwise a Hindu that would have been today considered an anti-national Muslim was actually the leader of the movement at that time. So those are the kind of things which is a history that the right wing today does not want to remember probably in what line with what you're calling revival of diarism and intolerance. And that's what seems to be at the moment the threat we face. Thank you Nilanjan for being with us and sharing with us a lot of this information which I think 100 years down the line we need to remember and celebrate again. Thank you. Thank you for watching NewsClick. Do keep watching our YouTube channel. Also visit our website.


Have you seen the plot that Gerald's gave? This story is a bit similar to that. Elderly gentleman had passed away. He suffered from alcoholism, which just eventually destroyed his liver. So there was bio all over the home. So here's the thing, his wife, she was just unable to walk. So she was stuck there for days as he decomposed right then and there. They had a pet free roaming bird living with them and they would just let it roam all over the place. And you can tell because there were wing marks and bird everywhere. This was probably one of the grossest homes I've ever been in working here and everything. It is very likely that that bird had to eat the dude's decomp in order to survive. They found the woman and everything. By the time we got onto the job, she was in the intensive care unit, but she did make it. Glad to hear that she made it, but horrible that she had to live through that ordeal. And we eventually cleaned up all the bio that day, took another two days to clean out the hoard, but we made that home suitable for the next person that decides to live in it.