One day while giving instructions in catechism, he cried out: "There is no one in the world more unhappy than the guardian of souls. How does he spend his time? In hearing how the good God has been offended and His love rejected! Like St. Peter the poor priest is ever to be found in the court of Pilate. The Divine Saviour is always before his gaze, derided, scorned and reviled. Some sinners are spitting upon His countenance, others rain blows upon His defenceless head; still others crown Him with thorns and scourge Him until the blood flows. He is buffeted about, thrown on the ground and trampled upon. He is crucified and His heart is transpierced. Alas! had I known what it meant to be a confessor, instead of going to a seminary I would rather have fled to a Trappist Monastery."
It would have been some consolation and encouragement if the poor curé's humility had allowed him to rejoice at the tremendous success of his spiritual labors. But no matter what wonderful effects his ministry produced, he always regarded himself as most incapable of discharging his priestly duties as they should be performed. With unaffected sympathy did he speak of his "poor soul," his "poor corpse" his "poor sins" and his "poor misery," praying that God in His goodness would bear with them. Without his humility, Father Vianney undoubtedly would not have become a saint. How otherwise could he have withstood for years the enthusiastic veneration of the thousands who were the witnesses of his holy life.
One day, when Bishop Devie, of Belley, in the ardor of conversation, gave him the title of the "holy curé," Father Vianney in despair ejaculated: "Oh, what a misfortune for me! Your reverence even is deceived in me." He was more than surprised when, in August, in the year 1855, he was nominated a "Knight of the Legion of Honor." Of course he never wore the badge nor availed himself in any way of the distinction. Against the onrush of a multitude of corporal and spiritual anxieties and cares he sought consolation in prayer.
It has remained almost completely a secret what supernatural consolations were vouchsafed to the blessed curé. On that subject he always preserved a strict silence. He prayed practically throughout the whole night, for his sufferings, as mentioned above, allowed him only a few minutes rest at a time. What he recommended to others in the catechism lessons, he himself constantly practiced. He was wont to say, for instance: "See now, dear children, should you wake up during the night, go quickly in spirit before the tabernacle and say to our Saviour: "Here am I, O Lord, I adore Thee, I praise Thee, I thank Thee, I love Thee and with the Angels let me keep Thee company.""
During the day all his spare time was devoted to prayer. In visiting the sick his thoughts were always with God. But his prayers were of the most simple kind. He favored simplicity in every action.
In the church, before the Blessed Sacrament, the pious curé's sense of the Real Presence was so vivid that a colleague, who noticed his radiant look, regarded him with astonishment, thinking Father Vianney with his corporal eyes, beheld some one there. This intuition of the Divine Presence the pious man referred to, one day, saying: "That is faith when we speak to God as a fellow man!"
Despite the ardor of his desire for God's blissful vision, he had to struggle for many decades in the exile of this life, persevering in work and prayer. Only when his venerable age and increasing infirmities disabled him from further laboring in the conversion of sinners, did our Divine Lord see fit to take this soul to Himself. The curé was then in his seventy-fourth year.
