I had a most intimate friend, in whom I had confided from boyhood all my joys and sorrows. I dictated to my secretary a letter to him, in which I described my sad condition, and the fears which I had for the future. The friend of whom I speak is a Protestant, as is also his wife. This twofold circumstance requires to be mentioned. Grave reasons prevent me from giving his name. We shall call him M. de ——.
He answered my letter a few days afterward. His letter reached me on the fifteenth of September, and surprised me greatly. I transcribe it here, without changing a word:
"My Dear Friend: Your few lines gave me great pleasure; but, as I have told you before, I long to hear from you in your own handwriting. A few days ago, as I returned from Cauterets, I passed through Lourdes (in the neighborhood of Tarbes). I visited the famous grotto, and heard about the extraordinary things that have been taking place there, and the cures produced by the waters in cases of diseased eyes. I earnestly recommend you to try it. If I were like you, a believing Catholic, and laboring under any illness, I would certainly try this chance. If it be true that invalids have been suddenly cured, perhaps your name may swell the number. If it be not true, where is the risk? I may add that I am personally interested in this matter. If the experiment succeeds, what an important fact for me to face! I would be in the presence of a miraculous event, or, at any rate, an event whose principal witness would be above all suspicion."
"It appears," he added in post-script, "that it is not necessary to go to Lourdes itself to take the water there, since you can have it sent. It is only necessary to ask the curé of Lourdes; he will forward it without delay. Certain conditions have to be fulfilled of which I am not perfectly informed, but of which the curé of Lourdes will tell you. Ask him also to send you the little pamphlet by the vicar-general of Tarbes, which gives an account of the miracles that have been most thoroughly proved."
This letter of my friend was well calculated to fill me with astonishment. His was an exact, positive, and at the same time a lofty mind, not at all liable to the illusions of enthusiasm, and, besides, he was a Protestant. Such a piece of advice coming from him, in such an urgent manner, filled me with amazement. However, I resolved not to follow it.
"It seems to me," I replied, "that I am to-day a little better. If this improvement continues, I shall not have need of your proposed and extraordinary remedy, for which, besides, I have not, perhaps, the necessary faith."
And here, I must confess, not without a blush, the secret motives of my resistance.
Whatever I may have said, it was not faith which was lacking; and, although ignorant of particulars concerning the water of Lourdes, except through the impertinent remarks of certain ill-disposed journals, I was certain that the power of God could be manifested by cures here as well as elsewhere. I will say more: I had a secret presentiment that if I tried this water, springing, as some said, in consequence of an apparition of the Blessed Virgin, I should be cured. But, to tell the simple truth, I feared the responsibility of such a favor. "If the doctor cures you," I said to myself, "every account is squared as soon as you have handed him his fee. You will be in the same condition as everybody else. But if God cures you by a special act of his providence, it will be quite another affair, and you will have to amend your life and become a saint. If God gives you back those eyes of yours with his own hands, how can you ever let them rest upon objects which draw you away from him? God will demand his fee; and it will amount to more than the doctor's. You must give up this and that bad habit, you must acquire such and such virtues, and others that you know nothing of. How will you do all this? Ah! this is too hard!" And my miserable heart, fearing its own weakness, nevertheless resisted the grace of God.
Thus it was I rebelled against the counsel given me to have recourse to this miraculous intervention—against that counsel which Providence, ever hidden in its ways, sent me by two Protestants, two heretics, outside the church. But my struggles and resistance were vain. An interior voice told me that the hand of man was powerless to cure me, and that the Master whom I had offended would return me my sight, and lead me to a new life, if I would make up my mind to use it well.
Meanwhile, my condition was either stationary or slowly becoming worse.