VIII.
The plan of the divine work was gradually being developed with its admirable and convincing logic. But at that time no one fully recognized the invisible hand of God directing all the events, manifest as it was, and M. Massy least of all. The midst of the mêlée is not the best position from which to judge the order of battle. The unfortunate prefect, who had set out upon the wrong track, saw in what occurred only a provoking series of unpleasant incidents and an inexplicable fatality. If we remove God from certain questions, we are very likely to find in them something inexplicable.
The progress of events, slow but irresistible, was overthrowing successively all the theses of unbelief, and forcing this miserable human philosophy to beat a retreat and to abandon one by one all its intrenchments.
First, the apparitions had occurred. Free thought had at the outset denied them out-and-out, accusing the seer of being only a tool, and of having lent herself to carry out a deception. This thesis had not stood before the examination of the child, whose veracity was evident.
Unbelief, dislodged from this first position, fell back on the theory of hallucination or catalepsy. "She thinks she sees something; but she does not. It is all a mistake."
Providence meanwhile had brought together from the four winds its thousands and thousands of witnesses to the ecstatic states of the child, and in due time had given a solemn confirmation to the truth of Bernadette's story by producing a miraculous fountain before the astonished eyes of the assembled multitudes.
"There is no fountain," was then the word of unbelief. "It is an infiltration, a pool, a puddle; anything that you please, except a fountain."
But the more they publicly and solemnly denied it, the more did the stream increase, as if it had been a living being, until it acquired prodigious proportions. More than a hundred thousand litres (twenty-two thousand gallons) issued daily from this strange rock.
"It is an accident; it is a freak of chance," stammered the infidels, confounded and recoiling.
Next, events following their inevitable course, the most remarkable cures had immediately attested the miraculous nature of the fountain, and given a new and decisive proof of the divine reality of the all-powerful apparition whose mere gesture had brought forth this fountain of life under a mortal hand.
The first move of the philosophers was to deny the cures, as they had before denied Bernadette's sincerity and the existence of the fountain.
But suddenly these had become so numerous and indubitable that their opponents were obliged to take yet another step in retreat, and admit them.
"Well, granted; there are some cures certainly, but they are natural; the spring has some therapeutic ingredients," cried the unbelievers, holding in their hands some sort of a semblance of chemical analysis. And then instantaneous cures, absolutely unaccountable upon such a hypothesis, were multiplied; and at the same time, in various places, conscientious and skilful chemists declared distinctly that the Massabielle water had not any mineral properties, that it was common water, and that the official analysis of M. Latour de Trie was meant simply to please the prefect.
Driven in this way from all the intrenchments in which, after their successive defeats, they had taken refuge; pursued by the dazzling evidence of the fact; crushed by the weight of their own avowals; and not being able to take back these successive and compulsory avowals, publicly registered in their own newspapers, what remained for the philosophers and free-thinkers to do? Only to surrender humbly to truth. Only to bow the head, bend the knee, and believe; only to do that which the ripe grain does when its cells begin to fill.
"The same change has taken place," says Montaigne, "in the truly wise, as in the stalks of wheat, which rise up and hold up their heads erect and proud as long as they are empty, but, when they are full and distended with the ripe grain, begin to humble themselves, to bend toward the ground. So men, when they have tried and sounded all things, ... renounce their presumption and recognize their natural condition."
Perhaps the philosophers of Lourdes had not an intellect open or strong enough to receive and hold the good grain. Perhaps pride made them inflexible and rebellious to manifest evidence. At any rate, with the happy exception of some who were converted, that change did not come to them which has come to those who are truly wise, and they continued to keep the lofty and proud attitude of the empty stalks.
Not only did their attitude remain thus, but their impiety, after being disgracefully pursued from one quibble, sophism, or falsehood to another, and finally driven against the wall, suddenly unmasked itself and showed its real face. It passed, as we may say, from the domain of discussion and reasoning, which it had been trying to usurp, to that of intolerance and violence, which was its proper home.
Baron Massy, who was perfectly informed as to the state of public feeling, understood with his rare sagacity that, if he took arbitrary measures and resorted to persecution, he would have a considerable moral support in the exasperation of the unbelievers, who were defeated, humiliated, and furious.
He also had been defeated as yet in the contest similar to, if not exactly the same as, theirs, which he had been carrying on against the supernatural. All his efforts had come to nothing.
The supernatural, beginning at the base of a desolate rock and announced only by the voice of a child, had entered upon its course, overthrowing all obstacles, drawing the people with it, and gaining to itself on the way enthusiastic acclamations, prayers, and the cries of gratitude from the popular faith.
Once more, what remained to be done?
One course yet remained: to resist evidence, and to make an attack upon the multitude.