Remember Christ himself has said, "The poor and those who lead sinful lives are in great need of being encouraged and consoled." Bernard returned to Paris, the great centre of glory and the abode of every misery.
When I first saw him at Notre Dame, the Abbé Bernard had been administering his admirable charities in that capital for ten years. From the time he put on the soutane he lived the life of a saint, his days and nights were at the disposal of suffering humanity. He passed his time and consecrated his life to healing the wounds of the soul and curing those of the body. He multiplied himself, as it were, to accomplish his hard task. He was soon everywhere, carrying words of peace to the dying, of hope to the occupants of prisons, and alms to the afflicted of all classes.
Indefatigable in well-doing, with charity for the faults of others, this worthy disciple of Christ exercised severity only toward himself.
Though scarcely forty years of age, he appeared more than fifty; in the vigor of life he was bent like an old man. The worn features and the cadaverous paleness of his countenance would have given him a doomed look, had not his whole aspect been illumined by the divine halo of charity.
I will relate a few more particulars, in the brief space allotted me, of the life of this priest and the manner of his death. In order to fulfil a great mission of charity this abbé set out for Rome. Arriving at Marseilles, he learned that a change consequent upon the state of the tide would compel him to wait three days for a boat leaving for Civita Vecchia.
Patience being a Christian virtue, the worthy priest submitted to the necessity without a murmur. Having nothing better to do, he set out upon a tour of investigation through this interesting city, which, thanks to the conquest of Algeria and the opening of the isthmus of Suez, should become at some future day the first maritime city of the world. Pursuing his walk, he took a cross street dividing the port from the oldest quarter of Marseilles. He had hardly advanced thirty steps, when be found himself among a crowd assembled before a house of humble appearance. A horrible sight burst upon his vision. A woman stood before the door uttering the most piercing shrieks.
The priest asked, "What is the matter?"
"What! Monsieur le Curé!" replied the porter at the gate. "Do you not understand that here lies another victim to the terrible epidemic which is ravaging the city, and that this woman is shrieking for help for her husband who is dying?" Without waiting for the sentence to be finished, the Abbé Bernard made his way through the crowd and directed his steps toward the unhappy woman. "Take me to your husband," said he, extending his hand toward her.
The woman regarded him earnestly, but, prevented from replying by choking sobs, she showed him the way to the third floor. Upon a rough bed a naked man was prostrated. Two of his comrades were rubbing him with woollen cloths.