Chapter M: LANTAIGNE: “Clearly virginity is pleasing to God, and Jesus

Christ rejoices in the triumph of His virgins. A young girl turned Attila and his Huns back from Lutetia; a young girl delivered Orleans and caused the lawful king to be crowned at Rheims.”

The priest having thus expressed himself, M. Bergeret seized on his words in a way of his own.

“Exactly,” said he. “Jeanne d’Arc was a mascotte.”

But Abbé Lantaigne did not hear. He rose and said:

“France’s destined rôle in Christendom is not yet achieved. I foresee that ere long God will yet again work His will through the nation which has been the most faithful and the most faithless to Him.”

“And so it is,” answered M. Bergeret, “that, as in the profligate times of King Charles VII., we behold the rise of prophetesses. Our town indeed holds one of them, who is making a happier start than Jeanne, since Jacquot d’Arc’s daughter was regarded as mad by her parents, and Mademoiselle Deniseau finds a disciple in her own father. Still I do not believe that her good luck will be great and lasting. Our _préfet_, M. Worms-Clavelin, is somewhat wanting in good breeding, but he is less of a simpleton than Baudricourt, and it is no longer the custom for the heads of the State to give audience to prophetesses. M. Félix Faure will not be advised by his confessor to test Mademoiselle Deniseau. Here, perhaps, you may reply, monsieur l’abbé, that the influence of Bernadette of Lourdes is stronger in our days than that of Jeanne d’Arc ever was. The latter overthrew some hundreds of starving and panic-stricken English; Bernadette has set countless pilgrims on the march and drawn thousands of millions to a mountain in the Pyrenees. And my revered friend, M. Pierre Laffitte, assures me that we have entered on an era of positive philosophy.”

“As for what happens at Lourdes,” said Abbé Lantaigne, “without becoming latitudinarian or falling into excessive credulity, I reserve my opinion on a point upon which the Church has made no pronouncement. But henceforth I see a triumph for religion in this crowd of pilgrims, just as you yourself see in it a defeat for materialistic philosophy.”

XI

The ministry had fallen. M. _le préfet_ Worms-Clavelin felt neither surprise nor regret at this. In the depths of his heart he had always considered it too restless and too disturbing, an object of suspicion, and not without reason, to the agriculturist, the large merchant, and the small investor. Without affecting the fortunate indifference of the masses, this cabinet had exercised, to the _préfet’s_ grief, a vexatious influence over freemasonry, the organisation by which, for fifteen years past, the whole political life of the department had been drawn together and held in check. M. _le préfet_ Worms-Clavelin had been able to turn the masonic lodges of the department into boards vested with the preliminary choice of candidates for public offices, for electoral functions, and for party favours. Exercising in this way wide and definite prerogatives, the lodges, being as much opportunist as they were radical, combined, acted in concert with one another, and worked together for the republican cause. The _préfet_, rejoicing to see the ambition of some restraining the desires of others, gathered together, on the joint recommendation of the lodges, a band of senators, deputies, municipal councillors and road-surveyors, all equally loyal to the government, yet sufficiently diverse in opinion and sufficiently moderate to satisfy and reassure all republican parties, save the socialists. M. _le préfet_ Worms-Clavelin had brought about this unanimity. And now the radical ministry must needs break up so happy a harmony.

Ill-luck decreed that the holder of one of the minor portfolios (either agriculture or commerce) should travel through the department and stop for some hours in the county town. It sufficed for him to deliver a philosophic and moral speech at one assembly to flutter all the assemblies, divide each lodge into two, set brother against brother, and infuriate citizen Mandar, the chemist of the Rue Culture, master of the lodge “New Alliance,” and a radical, against M. Tricoul, vine-grower of Les Tournelles, master of the lodge “Sacred Friendship,” and an opportunist.

Mentally M. Worms-Clavelin made another complaint against the fallen ministry: that of having lavishly distributed academic decorations and given Orders of Merit for agricultural proficiency to radical-socialists only, thus robbing the _préfet_ of the advantage of governing with the aid of these decorations, or at least by means of tardily fulfilled promises of them.

M. _le préfet_ expressed his thoughts accurately as, alone in his study, he murmured these bitter words:

“If they believed they could play at politics by upsetting my loyal lodges and fastening my useful palms to the tail of every drunken dog in the department, they’ll find themselves finely mistaken!”

Thus it was that he heard of the fall of the ministry without any regret.

Besides, these changes that he had foreseen never surprised him. His administrative policy was always founded on the assumption that minister succeeds minister. He made a point of never serving a Home Secretary with ardent zeal. He refrained from being over-pleasing to any one, and shunned all opportunities of doing too well. This moderation, kept up during the continuance of one ministry, assured him the sympathy of the next one, thus sufficiently predisposed in his favour to acquiesce in its turn in the half-hearted zeal, which became a claim to the favour of a third cabinet. M. _le préfet_ Worms-Clavelin reigned without ruling, corresponded briefly with the Place Beauvau,[G] manœuvred the boards, and stayed in office.

[G] Where the French Home Office is situated.

In his study, through the half-open windows of which came the scent of flowering lilacs and the twittering of sparrows, he was meditating, in a gentle and peaceful mood, on the lingering extinction of the scandals which on two occasions had gone near to ruining the leaders of the party. He looked forward to the day, still far distant, on which it would again be possible to resume activity. He reflected that, in spite of passing difficulties, and notwithstanding the discord unluckily communicated to the masonic lodges and the electoral committees, he would have capital municipal elections. The mayors in this agricultural district were excellent. The spirit of the populace was so loyal that the two deputies, who, being compromised in several financial transactions, were threatened with legal proceedings, had yet retained all their influence in their districts. He said to himself that the _scrutin de liste_[H] would never have produced such favourable results. In his exaltation of mind thoughts that were almost philosophic came to the surface of his mind as to the ease with which men can be governed. He had a confused vision of this human beast allowing itself to be led, and straggling along in tireless gloomy tractableness beneath the eye of the shepherding dog.

[H] In which each voter inscribes on his paper as many names
as there are vacancies to be filled.

M. Lacarelle entered the study with a newspaper in his hand.

“Monsieur _le préfet_, the resignation of the ministers, having been accepted by the President of the Republic, is announced in _l’Officiel_.”

M. _le préfet_ Worms-Clavelin continued his gentle musing, and M. Lacarelle turned up his long Gallic moustaches and rolled his china-blue eyes, as a sign that he was about to give expression to a thought. And, as a matter of fact, he did so.

“Opinions differ as to the fall of the ministry.”

“Really?” asked M. _le préfet_, who was not listening.

“Well! monsieur _le préfet_, it cannot be denied that Mademoiselle Claudine Deniseau predicted that the ministry would fall at an early date.”

M. _le préfet_ shrugged his shoulders. He had a mind wise enough to see that there was nothing marvellous in the fulfilment of such a prophecy. But Lacarelle, with a profound knowledge of local affairs, a marvellously contagious stupidity, and an exceptional aptitude for self-delusion, immediately related to him three or four new stories which were running through the town, and especially the story of M. de Gromance, to whom Saint Radegonde had said, in reply to her visitor’s secret thought: “Be at ease, monsieur _le comte_; the child that your wife will bear is really your son.” Then Lacarelle returned to the disclosure of the hidden treasure. Two Roman coins had been found at the place indicated. The excavations were still going on. There had also been some cures of which the private secretary gave vague and rambling descriptions.

M. _le préfet_ Worms-Clavelin listened uncomprehendingly. The mere idea of the Deniseau girl saddened and worried him. The influence of this visionary over the townsfolk at large was beyond his understanding. He was afraid of using his abilities ineffectively in a psychic case such as this. This fear paralysed his reason, although it was strong enough in ordinary circumstances. As he listened to Lacarelle, he experienced a dread of being convinced, and instinctively exclaimed brusquely:

“I don’t believe in such things as these! I don’t believe in them!”

But doubt and anxiety overwhelmed him. He wished to know what Abbé Guitrel, whom he regarded as both learned and intelligent, thought on the subject of this prophetess. It was just the time when he would meet the abbé at the goldsmith’s house. He went to Rondonneau junior’s, and found him in the inner room, nailing up a case, whilst Abbé Guitrel examined a silver-gilt vase set on a long stem and surmounted with a rounded lid.

“That’s a fine chalice, isn’t it, monsieur l’abbé?”

“It is a pyx, monsieur _le préfet_, a ciborium, a vessel intended _ad ferendos cibos_.[I] In fact, the pyx holds the sacred hosts, the food of the soul. Formerly they used to keep the pyx in a silver dove hung over the baptismal font, the altar, or the tomb of a martyr. This one is decorated in the style of the thirteenth century. An austere and magnificent style, very suitable, monsieur _le préfet_, for church furniture, and especially for the sacred vessels.”

[I] To bear the bread.

M. Worms-Clavelin was not listening to the priest, whose restless, crafty profile he was observing. “Here is the man,” thought he, “who is going to tell me about Saint Radegonde and the prophetess.” And the departmental representative of the Republic was already screwing up his courage, concentrating his energies, lest he should appear weak-minded, superstitious and credulous, before an ecclesiastic.

“Yes, monsieur _le préfet_” said Abbé Guitrel, “our worthy M. Rondonneau junior has executed this beautiful specimen of goldsmith’s work after ancient models. I am inclined to think that they could not have done better in the Place Saint-Sulpice, in Paris, where the best goldsmiths are to be found.”

“_À propos_, monsieur l’abbé, what is your opinion of the prophetess whom our town possesses?”

“What prophetess, monsieur _le préfet_? Do you mean that poor girl who pretends to be in communication with Saint Radegonde, queen of France? Alas! monsieur, it cannot possibly be the pious spouse of Clotaire who suggests to that miserable girl sorry nonsense of every kind and rhapsodies which, being irreconcilable with good sense, are still less to be reconciled with theology. Foolery, monsieur _le préfet_, mere foolery!”

M. Worms-Clavelin, who had prepared some subtle jests concerning priestly credulity, remained silent.

“No, indeed,” continued M. Guitrel, with a smile, “it is incredible that Saint Radegonde should suggest this trash, this folly, all these silly, empty, sometimes heterodox, speeches that fall from the lips of this young maiden. The voice of the sainted Radegonde would have another accent, believe me.”

M. LE PRÉFET: “Very little is known, in fact, about this Saint Radegonde.”

M. GUITREL: “You mistake, monsieur _le préfet_, you mistake! Saint Radegonde, reverenced by the whole Catholic Church, is the object of special worship in the diocese of Poitiers, which was formerly witness of her merits.”

M. LE PRÉFET: “Yes, as you say, monsieur l’abbé, there is a special …”

M. GUITREL: “Even atheists themselves have regarded this great figure with admiration. What a sublime picture, monsieur _le préfet_! After the murder of her brother by her husband, Clotaire’s noble spouse betakes herself to Bishop Médard at Noyon, and urges him to dedicate her to God. Taken by surprise, Saint Médard hesitates; he urges the indissolubility of marriage. But Radegonde herself covers her head with the veil of a recluse, and flings herself at the feet of the pontiff, who, overcome by the saintly persistence of the queen, and braving the wrath of the savage monarch, offers this blessed victim to God.”

M. LE PRÉFET: “But, monsieur l’abbé, do you approve of a bishop defying the civil powers in that fashion and abetting the wife of his overlord in her revolt? The deuce! if these are your opinions, I shall be grateful to you for telling me so.”

M. GUITREL: “Alas! monsieur _le préfet_, I have not, as the blessed Médard had, the illumination of sanctity to enable me to discern the will of God in extraordinary circumstances. Luckily nowadays the rules which a bishop should follow with regard to the civil powers are definitely defined. And monsieur _le préfet_ will kindly remember, in speaking of me for the bishopric of Tourcoing to his friends in the ministry, that I recognise all the obligations that follow from the Concordat. But why intrude my humble personality in these great scenes of history? Saint Radegonde, clothed in the veil of a deaconess, founded the monastery of Sainte-Croix in Poitiers, where she lived for more than fifty years in the practice of a rigorous asceticism. She observed fasts and abstinences with such scrupulousness …”

M. LE PRÉFET: “Keep these stories of yours, monsieur l’abbé for your seminarists. You don’t believe that Saint Radegonde communicates with Mademoiselle Deniseau. I congratulate you on that. And I could wish that all the priests in the department were as reasonable as you. But it only needs this hysteric patient—for hysteric she is—to attack the government for all the curés to come in herds to listen, open-mouthed and applauding, to all the insults she spits out.”

M. GUITREL: “Oh! they make reservations, monsieur _le préfet_, they make reservations. The Church instructs them to be extremely wary in face of every fact that assumes the appearance of a miracle. And I assure you that, for my part, I am very distrustful of modern miracles.”

M. LE PRÉFET: “Tell me, between ourselves: you don’t believe in miracles, my dear abbé?”

M. GUITREL: “In miracles that are not duly verified I have, indeed, but little belief.”

M. LE PRÉFET: “We are alone. Confess, now, that there are no miracles, that there never have been any, and that there never can possibly be any.”

M. GUITREL: “Not at all, monsieur _le préfet_. A miracle is possible; it can be unmistakably recognised; it is useful for the confirmation of doctrine; and its utility is proved by the conversion of nations.”

M. LE PRÉFET: “Anyhow, you grant that it is ridiculous to believe that Saint Radegonde, who lived in the Middle Ages …”

M. GUITREL: “In the sixth century, in the sixth century.”

M. LE PRÉFET: “Exactly, in the sixth century. … Should come in 189– to gossip with the daughter of a registry-keeper on the political programme of the ministry and the Chambers.”

M. GUITREL: “Communications between the Church triumphant and the Church militant are possible; history supplies numberless undeniable instances of it. But, yet again, I do not believe that the young person of whom we are speaking is favoured with a communication of this kind. Her sayings, if I may dare to say so, do not bear the hall-mark of a celestial revelation. Everything she says is somehow …”

M. LE PRÉFET: “Humbug.”

M. GUITREL: “If you like. … Though, indeed, it might be quite possible that she is possessed.”

M. LE PRÉFET: “What is this that you are saying? You, an intelligent priest, a future bishop of the Republic, you believe in possession! It is a mediæval superstition! I have read a book by Michelet on it.”

M. GUITREL: “But, monsieur _le préfet_, possession is a fact recognised not only by theologians, but also by scientists, atheists for the most part. And Michelet himself, whom you quote, believed in the cases of possession at Loudun.”

M. LE PRÉFET: “What notions! You are all the same! And if Claudine Deniseau were possessed, as you say? …”

M. GUITREL: “Then it would be necessary to exorcise her.”

M. LE PRÉFET: “Exorcise her? Don’t you think, monsieur l’abbé, that that would be absurd?”

M. GUITREL: “Not at all, monsieur _le préfet_, not at all.”

M. LE PRÉFET: “What does one do?”