Part 4 (2/2)
”Lidwine was born towards the end of the fourteenth century, at Schiedam, in Holland. Her beauty was extraordinary, but she lost it through illness at the age of fifteen. She recovered, but while skating one day with her companions on the frozen ca.n.a.ls, she fell and broke a rib. From the time of that accident to her death she was bed-ridden. She was afflicted with most frightful ailments, her wounds festered, and worms bred in her putrefying flesh. Erysipelas, that terrible malady of the Middle Ages, consumed her. Her right arm was eaten away, a single muscle held it to the body, her brow was cleft in two, one of her eyes became blind, and the other so weak that it could not bear the light.
”While she was in this condition, the plague ravaged Holland, and decimated the town in which she lived; she was the first attacked. Two boils formed, one under her arm, the other above the heart. 'Two boils, it is well,' she said to the Lord, 'but three would be better in honour of the Holy Trinity,' and immediately a third pustule broke out on her face.
”For thirty-five years she lived in a cellar, taking no solid food, praying and weeping, so chilly in winter, that each morning her tears formed two frozen streams down her cheeks.
”She thought herself still too fortunate, and entreated the Lord not to spare her, and obtained from Him the grace that by her sufferings she might expiate the sins of others. Christ heard her prayers, visited her with His angels, communicated her with His own hand, gave her the delight of heavenly ecstasies, and caused her festering wounds to exhale delicious perfumes.
”At the moment of her death He stood by her, and restored her poor body to its former soundness. Her beauty, so long vanished, shone out again, the town was moved, the sick came in crowds, and all who drew near were healed.
”She is the true patroness of the sick,” concluded the abbe, and, after a silence, he added,--
”From the point of view of the higher mysticism, Lidwine is wonderful, for in her we can verify that plan of subst.i.tution which was, and is, the glorious reason for the existence of convents.”
And as, without answering, Durtal questioned him with a look, he went on,--
”You are aware, sir, that in all ages, nuns have offered themselves to heaven as expiatory victims. The lives of saints, both men and women, who desired these sacrifices abound, of those who atoned for the sins of others by sufferings eagerly demanded and patiently borne. But there is a task still more arduous and more painful than was desired by these admirable souls. It is not now that of purging the faults of others, but of preventing them, hindering their commission, by taking the place of those who are too weak to bear the shock.
”Read Saint Teresa on this subject; you will see that she gained permission to take on herself, and without flinching, the temptations of a priest who could not endure them. This subst.i.tution of a strong soul freeing one who is not strong from perils and fears is one of the great rules of mysticism.
”Sometimes this exchange is purely spiritual, sometimes on the contrary it has to do only with the ills of the body. Saint Teresa was the surrogate of souls in torment, Sister Catherine Emmerich took the place of the sick, relieved, at least, those who were most suffering; thus, for instance, she was able to undergo the agony of a woman suffering from consumption and dropsy, in order to permit her to prepare for death in peace.
”Well, Lidwine took on herself all bodily ills, she l.u.s.ted for physical suffering, and was greedy for wounds; she was, as it were, the reaper of punishments, and she was also the piteous vessel in which everyone discharged the overflowings of his malady. If you would speak of her in other fas.h.i.+on than the poor hagiographies of our day, study first that law of subst.i.tution, that miracle of perfect charity, that superhuman triumph of Mysticism; that will be the stem of your book, and naturally, without effort, all Lidwine's acts graft themselves on it.”
”But,” asked Durtal, ”does this law still take effect?”
”Yes: I know convents which apply it. Moreover, Orders like the Carmelites and the Poor Clares willingly accept the transfer to them of temptations we suffer; then these convents take on their backs, so to speak, the diabolical expiations of those insolvent souls whose debts they pay to the full.”
”All the same,” said Durtal, shaking his head, ”if you consent to take on yourself the a.s.saults intended for your neighbour, you must make pretty sure not to sink.”
”The nuns chosen by our Lord,” replied the abbe, ”as victims of expiation, as whole burnt-offerings, are in fact few, and they are generally, especially in this age, obliged to unite and coalesce in order to bear without failing the weight of misdeeds which try them, for in order that a soul may bear alone the a.s.saults of Satan, which are often terrible, it must be indeed a.s.sisted by the angels and elect of G.o.d.” And after a silence the old priest added,--
”I believe I may speak with some experience in these matters, for I am one of the directors of those nuns who make reparation in their convents.”
”And yet,” cried Durtal, ”the world asks what is the good of the contemplative Orders.”
”They are the lightning conductors of society,” said the abbe, with great energy. ”They draw on themselves the demoniacal fluid, they absorb temptations to vice, preserve by their prayers those who live, like ourselves, in sin; they appease, in fact, the wrath of the Most High that He may not place the earth under an interdict. Ah! while the sisters who devote themselves to nursing the sick and infirm are indeed admirable, their task is easy in comparison with that undertaken by the cloistered Orders, the Orders where penance never ceases, and the very nights spent in bed are broken by sobs.”
”This priest is far more interesting than his brethren,” said Durtal to himself as they parted; and, as the abbe invited his visits, he had often called on him.
He had always been cordially welcomed. On several occasions he had warily sounded the old man on several questions. He had answered evasively in regard to other priests. But he did not seem to think much of them, if Durtal might judge by what he said one day in regard to Lidwine, that magnet of sorrows.
”Notice,” he said, ”that a weak and honest soul has every advantage in choosing a confessor, not from the clergy who have lost the sense of Mysticism, but from the monks. They alone know the effects of the law of subst.i.tution, and if they see that in spite of their efforts the penitent succ.u.mbs, they end by freeing him by taking his trials on themselves, or by sending them off to some convent in the country where resolute people can use them.”
Another time the question of nationalities was discussed in a newspaper which Durtal showed him. The abbe shrugged his shoulders, putting aside the patriotic twaddle. ”For me,” he said calmly, ”for me my country is that where I can best pray.”
Durtal could not make out what this priest was. He understood from the bookseller, that the Abbe Gevresin on account of his great age and infirmity was incapacitated for the regular duties of the priesthood. ”I know that, when he can, he still says his ma.s.s each morning in a convent; I believe also he receives a few of his brethren for confession in his own house;” and Tocane added with disdain, ”He has barely enough to live on, and they do not look on him with favour at the archbishop's because of his mystical notions.”
<script>