A Marianist Miscellany

Home , Chapter (religion), Patrimony of Saint Peter, Postulant, Soulignac, University of Dayton, Verdelais

Selected articles originally written by Joseph Stefanelli, SM

Marianist Center Cupertino, California 2008 Contents

Part I: Personages of the Early Years Chapter 1: The Hijacked Virgin ...... 1 Chapter 2: Marie Antoinette. A Chaminade Connection...... 8 Chapter 3: When the Pastor Was a Woman ...... 11 Chapter 4: I Will Stay Here...... 14 Chapter 5: The First To Go (Cantau) ...... 17 Chapter 6: My Brother, François...... 19 Chapter 7: Couillard, . . . aka . . .aka ...... 27 Chapter 8: Return of the Exiles (Christian Brothers) ...... 32 Chapter 9: A Life of Many Colors (Lafon)...... 35 Chapter 10: A Different View (Roussel) ...... 44

Part II: Two Hundredth Anniversary Chapter 11: January 1797 ...... 47 Chapter 12: February 1797...... 50 Chapter 13: March 1797...... 53 Chapter 14: April 1797...... 56 Chapter 15: May 1797 ...... 59 Chapter 16: June 1797 ...... 62

Part III: Some “Acts of God” Chapter 17: 1906. “Reporter on Site”...... 65 Chapter 18: 1906. “Reporter at Large” ...... 68 Chapter 19: Across the Pacific...... 71

Part IV: “A Time for War” Chapter 20: Repercussions from an American Civil Conflict...... 76 Chapter 21: Repercussions from a European Conflict...... 80

Part V: Property, Asset or Liability Chapter 22: The Other “Saint‐Remy”...... 87 Chapter 23: On the East Coast...... 93 Chapter 24: On the West Coast ...... 96

Part VI: The Beginnings. . . Chapter 25: From Saragossa, and Beyond...... 101 Chapter 26: Founders, Alive and Well...... 104

ii Chapter 27: A “Founding Instinct” ...... 106 Chapter 28: Old Bones, New Vigor ...... 109

Part VII: An “Operational” Charism Chapter 29: Resurrection! Alleluia! ...... 114 Chapter 30: Schools. An Inconsistency? ...... 117 Chapter 31: A Very Special Classroom ...... 122 Chapter 32: Our “Tradition” Is Innovation...... 124 Chapter 33: Option for the Poor...... 127

Part VIII: From Beginning to End Chapter 34: Bethlehem ...... 130 Chapter 35: Calvary ...... 133

iii Part I Personages of the Early Years

Chapter One The Hijacked Virgin1

It was a still early evening of a winter day (Saturday, January 14, 1792), but darkness was already thick on the almost‐deserted country road leading from the city limits toward the hamlet of the Tondu, to the southwest of Bordeaux. The rain continued to fall. The two men stopped. They had already been walking the better part of a hour. One, Boutou, a colporteur (peddler) by profession, was carrying a heavy load wrapped in a bed sheet. The other helped him lower it to the ground as they discussed their situation. This second man was Melchiou, a former Christian Brother and former cook at the Brothers’ school at Sainte‐Eulalie parish in Bordeaux until the religious community had been disbanded. He had been hired by Father Chaminade, a newcomer to the city who less than a month before had bought from M. Fouignet a sizeable piece of property a short distance outside the city. Father Chaminade had named the property Saint‐Laurent, from its proximity to a small chapel dedicated to that saint.

Originally they had been a party of four. Bruno, another of Father Chaminade’s servants, had meanwhile gone about some other business. A second colporteur had also been hired to help carry two large packages from their storage place in the monastery of the Discalced Carmelites on the northern end of the city to Saint‐Laurent. But he had found the load he was asked to carry too heavy and had refused to take the job. So around five o’clock, Melchiou and Boutou had started their trip. Now they stood in the rain debating. Melchiou recalled that an acquaintance lived nearby; he would go there to borrow a lantern so they could continue on their way with some sense of security. Having found his acquaintance cooperative, he returned with the needed light.

With Melchiou’s help, Boutou hoisted the load to his shoulders again. It was a large gilded wooden statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Its companion piece, left behind for the moment because the second colporteur had refused to carry it, was a similar statue of the Angel Gabriel. Together they had formed an Annunciation scene in the meeting room of the Sodality of Our Lady of the Rosary, in the church of the Dominicans (the “Jacobin Friars,” as they were known, from the name—St. Jacque, James—of the street where their first house in Paris had been located).

1 See: Apôtre de Marie, vol. 10, pp. 123-132, 391-400; J. Stefanelli, Mlle de Lamourous, chap. 1; H. Kramer, Chaminade Lore, pp. 158-162, 280-288.

The church and monastery of the Friars in Bordeaux had by now been confiscated by the government. When the government agents had sought to include the two statues in the inventory of State property, the officers of the Sodality had pointed out that the statues did not belong to the church, but to a lay confraternity; they did not, therefore, fall under the law which declared that all properties, buildings, or furnishings previously “managed” by the church were the property of the Nation. This claim was recognized by the agents; the statues were not included in their list.

When in May of 1791 one of the more radical local revolutionary clubs (thereafter dubbed “the Jacobines”) began meeting in the former Dominican monastery, its members demanded that the officers of the Sodality remove the statues because they were not “suitable décor” for a meeting room of the “progressive” club. For safekeeping, the two statues had then been stored in the Carmelite cloister with other possessions of the Sodality now awaiting sale, a sale whose proceeds were earmarked for the poor. There Father Chaminade had seen them and determined to buy them, as well as a large, seven‐foot‐high painting of Our Lady of the Rosary, fifteen two‐foot‐ high paintings of the mysteries of the Rosary, and a low stand of gilded wood—all for the price of 300 pounds.

He had sent Bruno and Melchiou into the city that afternoon to claim the statues and bring them to Saint‐Laurent. Now, as Melchiou and his companion resumed their journey, shouts rang out in the night: “Who goes there? What are you carrying?” Corporal William Laville, of the 44th company of the regiment of Sainte‐Eulalie, and M. John Rocolle, a baker in Tondu, had spotted “two people, one carrying a lantern and the other apparently loaded down with a large bundle.” Sensing some misconduct, the two patriots raised the alarm and stopped the two travelers.

While Laville questioned them, Rocolle went for help. He returned with a group of citizen‐soldiers; a crowd of curious onlookers soon assembled. Unwilling to believe the story Melchiou was giving them, Laville marched them to the residence of his regimental captain, M. Rey, which happened to be nearby, on the Rue de Berry just outside Sainte‐Eulalie gate. But M. Rey was not about to assume the responsibility of making a decision in such an important matter: he, the suspects, and the whole arresting cohort would go to the City Hall (back halfway across the city again) to report the entire matter to the municipal authorities. Meanwhile, the Virgin was given safe haven in his house.

However, the city fathers in their turn declared that the matter fell under the jurisdiction of the Justice of the Peace. By now it was eight o’clock, dinner hour for the

2 households of Bordeaux. M. Daniel Roux, Justice of the Peace for the Marais section of Bordeaux, was none too happy at being disturbed at such an important moment, and the welcome the patriotic crowd received could not have been a very warm one. So upset, or at least distracted, was he that he dated his report October 14! There followed a prolonged interrogation, conscientiously recorded for posterity, of the suspects and of their accusers.

Meanwhile, a zealous group of Young Volunteers of the Regiment of Sainte‐Eulalie took it upon themselves to visit the Chaminade property to see whether any other suspicious articles might be stored there. The place was apparently unoccupied, or at least no one answered their repeated calls. But as they were leaving, Father Chaminade and Bruno arrived in a carriage. They were stopped and searched, as was the carriage. Finding nothing incriminating, the Volunteers returned to the city.

Finally, at one o’clock Sunday morning, the Justice of the Peace was ready to make his decision. It was clear, he stated, that the statue in question had never been government property; nor had it been stolen; nor had there been any attempt to steal from the Nation. However, he added, it was not within his power to release it to its proprietor. His report stated, “Therefore, considering that the matter in question concerns the public order of religion since is has to do with the moving of objects subject to the jurisdiction of City Officials, we, Justice of the Peace, believe it proper to send the matter to the Tribunal of City Police. To that same tribunal we order to appear the aforementioned Boutou and Melchiou, released for the moment on their own recognizance and on their promise to appear whenever summoned. We leave it to the Tribunal of City Police to summon M. Chaminade, M. Bruno, M. Placide [an ex‐ Carmelite still living at and in charge of the former monastery], and any others.”

That Sunday morning rumors were rife. Crowds gathered outside City Hall, claiming that the Carmelite church had been burgled. They demanded that at least “the Virgin” be returned. For their part, the Volunteers protested against the Justice of the Peace, accusing him of negligence in not going with them to make an inventory at Saint‐ Laurent of all the things hidden there, “so many other objects that the wagons groaned under the loads.” The City Council met, read the report of the Justice of the Peace, and discussed the matter at some length. The decision was reached to sent agents to the Carmelite monastery to investigate the matter and to take whatever action might seem best to them. The patriots were so informed. All they could do was wait, with whatever patience they could manage to muster.

While these events were taking place at city hall, the painter Magonty, living on Rue Porte‐Dijeaux, heard the rumors of what had taken place. It was he, in fact, who had

3 handed the statue over to Melchiou and Bruno the previous evening. He therefore hastened to the departmental headquarters; from there, he was referred to city hall; from there, in turn, to the Justice of the Peace. Hurrying to that magistrate, he insisted on making an accurate account of what had happened concerning the Virgin and demanded that his testimony be recorded. Poor M. Roux, having already lost one night’s sleep over the affair, welcomed his new guest with no enthusiasm whatsoever. However, he was the servant of the Nation and set himself down to perform his patriotic duties.

He headed his report with the date, February 15, and detailed Magonty’s testimony: that the Virgin had belonged to the Confraternity of the Rosary, a lay organization; that it had been exempted by the government agents from the inventory of goods belonging to the religious community; that the Jacobins had asked him and his associates to remove it from their meeting room; that because he had no room in his home, it had been stored temporarily in the Carmelite cloister awaiting sale; that it had in fact been sold to M. Chaminade, who lived on the road to Tondu near the chapel of Saint‐Laurent; that it had been delivered to his agents the previous evening. Other objects, too (he listed them), had been sold to this same Chaminade, but they had not been picked up the previous evening because a second colporteur had refused to carry the heavy angel, and the rain had made it inadvisable to transport the paintings.

During this same time, the agents sent to the Carmelite monastery by the city fathers had arrived there and asked to see M. Placide Cantinot. He was a former religious and former infirmarian of the community. He had joined the Association of Apothecaries (one of the few corporations exempted from the laws of suppression) and had therefore been able to remain at the former monastery. He was not present when the delegation arrived, so the agents proceeded to question his associate, M. Dupuy. The latter recounted a story fully in accord with what Magonty was at that moment recounting to the Justice of the Peace.

Shortly thereafter M. Placide returned. The agents read to him the full declaration of Dupuy. Placide testified under oath that what had been recorded was the truth. The agents then visited the cloister and saw for themselves that alle th objects reputedly sold to Father Chaminade were still there except, of course, the Virgin. Their patriotic zeal was almost satisfied; nothing had been stolen from the Carmelite church (which was under the direction of a “constitutional” priest); the reports of Melchiou and Boutou had been corroborated.

4 “However,” their report concluded, “the desire to remove any uncertainty from the rumors led the agents to go in person to the domicile of the cleric who had purchased the items in question.”

So from the former Carmelite monastery, they went directly to the house “belonging to the aforementioned M. Fouignet, on the outskirts of Tondu.” There they found Father Chaminade. Under interrogation, he testified that “he had formerly been a resident of Mussidan, in the Dordogne, where he had been professor at a seminary, and that he had come to Bordeaux on the fifth of January, 1792.” He confirmed the tale they had already heard concerning the Virgin, and, to allay any suspicions they might have had about any intent of his to open a public place of worship (now forbidden, and especially to him as a non‐constitutional “recalcitrant”), he invited them to search the premises.

They inspected first the room he had designated as the “chapel,” where the statue and other items were to be placed, then visited all the rooms of the house. They found that the “chapel” was only a small antechamber. “The other rooms were all empty, and none of them could have served as a public place of worship; nor did they find anything in the house that seemed the least bit suspicious.” All this was carefully noted in their report to the city fathers. These latter were of the opinion that the supposedly stolen statue really did belong to the purchaser and should by right be restored to his possession.

But the matter could not end there. No doubt experiencing some confusion concerning their authority in the matter and not wishing to displease any of the various factions of the people, the procurator of the city believed it prudent to refer the matter to the district procurator. In a long letter to the latter, the city authority recounted the whole affair, detailing all the city fathers had done in the matter, “seeing that the Justice of the Peace had not gone as far into the affair as he should have.” His conclusion: “Any suspicion of theft to the detriment of the Nation having been allayed, it does not seem to me there is any reason not to accord these citizens the return of their statue; however, it has seemed to us a matter of the highest prudence to refer the issue to you.”

The response of the district was quick enough. Exactly a week after the initial event, under date of January 21, 1792, it authorized “the city of Bordeaux to hand over to the confraternity of the Rosary the gilded wooden statue of the holy Virgin.” So it was, as the procurator of the city said to that of the district, that “this great event, which might have had serious repercussions, had, as in so many other cases, been reduced to so little, or rather, to nothing at all.”

5 The governing authorities may have reduced the event “to nothing at all.” Not so the press. The Courrier de la Gironde, under the editorship of a certain Marandon, had made itself the mouthpiece of the more radical clubs of the city. In a special supplement to the issue of January 18, Maradon gave his version of the events, entitling it “The Voyage of Our Lady of the Rosary.”

He wrote this: “When that most ignorant of Ignorantins [the nickname with which the Christian Brothers had been labeled] and the colporteur were brought into the presence of M. Rey, Brother Kettle [he was a cook] assumed a most self‐confident mien, while the miserable colporteur protested strenuously while smothering the cute little Madonna with wet kisses and calling upon her to witness that he was not a knave of an aristocrat. When he was accused of having lent his services to this theft, his answer was, ‘What do you expect? The good God was well enough carried by a jackass; I thought I could at least carry his mother.’”

The article seems to have had some ulterior motive in addition to ridiculing the two men detained by the patriots. The author was aware that Father Langoiran was somehow involved in the matter. [And he was, for it was he who had advised Father Chaminade to buy the Tondu property and loaned him the money to do so.] Langoiran was an outspoken critic of the Civil Oath of the Clergy; he had preached and written against it, and the anti‐clericals of the city were furious with him. Here was a chance for the clubs and the juror priests to arouse some public opinion against him. Such efforts proved very successful, and Langoiran would be the first priest butchered by a rampaging mob at the outbreak of a more violent sequel to these events.

Marandon’s article therefore concluded sarcastically with this: “A final point should be made which will clarify this whole affair. The Fouignet property had been purchased with the connivance of M. Simon Langoiran. This saintly man, who believes in counter‐ revolution as firmly as he does in the infallibility of the Pope, preferred to purchase it rather than a piece of property belonging to the Nation. The house was formerly a dive, a truly cutthroat place, where professional muggers gathered during carnival season and from which the police of the previous regime had often routed them. Simon wishes to sanctify it. That is where he has his country oratory; that is where he preaches in the desert and celebrates his anti‐civic Sabbaths.”

The article published in the Courrier did little to clarify the matter for the general public, which had been aroused by the rumors of “theft of national property.” The members of the Confraternity of the Rosary believed some effort should be made to balance the account and published a little brochure detailing what had in fact taken place. Signed by Magonty and others, it accused the Courrier of having falsified the facts, of having

6 spoken irreverently of God and the Virgin, of having vilified and ridiculed the respected priest who had purchased the statue, and of having attempted to discharge its bile on the former Brother of the Christian Schools.

The battle was thus engaged. Marandon wasted no time in defending himself. On the 27th of January, his article in the Courrier denied having falsified the facts for, he wrote, he had admitted that there had been no theft prejudicial to the Nation; neither had he spoken irreverently of the Virgin, since the article had dealt only with a gilded wooden statue sold, in admittedly due and proper form, to a non‐juring priest and the former Christian Brother.

Then he passed to the attack. “But you, members of the Confraternity, who speak so well of charity, why do you not give the example as well as the precept? I do not know to what religion these members of the Confraternity belong. What I do know very well is that the divine founder of mine never established any Confraternity of the Rosary, or of the Scapular, or of the Sacred Heart, etc. I know, too, that if anything has dishonored this pure and sublime religion it is the mumbo‐jumbo which monastic charlatans devised to trap the ignorant and to swindle them out of their monies. It would seem, gentlemen, that you did not wish to lose all of yours, and that you have made your profit on the coat‐tails of that of the Nation. That was a clever investment, certainly. But there was little modesty in bragging about one, and great impropriety in speaking of the other.”

Although Marandon had made himself spokesman of the clubs, that would not save his neck. More poet than philosopher, he, as so many others, misjudged the current of events. Some time later he was arrested and condemned. Before his execution he swallowed a bottle and a half of alcohol. As he was being conducted from the judgment hall to the place of execution, he danced and leapt about, singing at full voice, and mingling his songs with cries of “Long live the Republic!” When his head was held aloft for the crowd to see, they too cried out, “Long live the Republic!”

The Virgin, restored to its legal owner, was soon joined at Villa Saint‐Laurent by Gabriel and the other artifacts. Either or both may have found temporary residence in one of Father Chaminade’s oratories or with one of his friends during the years before and after his exile. [They are not listed in the government inventory of Villa Saint‐Laurent at the time of his flight into exile.]

In 1804, Archbishop d’Aviau offered Father Chaminade the use of the chapel of the former convent of the Madelonnettes, known to us as the Chapel of the Madeleine. The Madelonnettes, or “Repentant Prostitutes of Sainte‐Madeleine,” was a Parisian

7 foundation dating from the early seventeenth century. Like other similar orders, at first they accepted only former prostitutes as members. which Francis de Sales and which Vincent de Paul both had been instrumental in helping to establish the community on a solid footing. There were three classes of members: the Daughters of Sainte‐Madeleine, who were professed religious; the Daughters of Sainte‐Marthe, who were aspirants or postulants; and the Daughters of Saint‐Lazare, who were in the process of leaving their former way of life. Not long after their foundation, they arrived in Bordeaux. The chapel of their convent was dedicated in 1688.

With the outbreak of the Revolution in 1789, the Madelonnettes, although highly esteemed by the authorities and people of the city, were eventually disbanded, their community suppressed, and their convent confiscated. The extensive property and buildings were divided into lots and auctioned to the highest bidder. The chapel was bought by a certain Elias Lafargue, a merchant, for the price of 31,500 pounds and was used by him as a warehouse. After Napoleon entered into power as First Consul and granted limited freedom to the Church, the chapel was rented by the archdiocese as one of the first buildings opened to Catholic worship after the Revolution. It was used successively as the official locale of the nearby parishes of Saint‐Eulalie, of Saint‐Michel, and of Saint‐Eloi, while the church buildings proper to those parishes were being refurbished.

At first Father Chaminade leased the chapel for a five‐year term. Despite the suppression of the Sodality, he renewed the lease in 1809, in 1814, and again in 1819. He was able to purchase it from the Lafargue heirs in August of 1820 for only 12,000 francs. The following month he bought the former choir‐chapel of the convent, contiguous to the right side of the chapel sanctuary. He gradually acquired the buildings on either side of the chapel; they housed his personal lodgings, the meeting areas for the Sodality, and, after the foundation of the Society of Mary, the novitiate/seminary and the community of the Madeleine.

The Virgin and Gabriel found new lodgings in the Chapel of the Madeleine. Placed one on either side of the sanctuary, Gabriel on the left, Mary on the right, and facing each other, they reassumed the posture of the Annunciation which they had originally had in the Confraternity chapel of the Dominicans. Nearby, Father Chaminade placed a number of reliquaries he had brought from the convent of the Recollect Franciscans at Périgueux (where his brother Blaise had been before the Revolution) or, so the story goes, from his exile in Spain.

The saga of the hijacked Virgin, however, was not yet at an end.

8 In 1903, after decades of struggle for control of the schools (recall the Revolution of 1830 and the collapse of Father Chaminade’s master plan for normal schools), the anti‐ clerical forces present in the French government were finally able to take the upper hand. Moving once more against religious congregations, the government disbanded teaching orders and confiscated their properties. This time, the hijacked Virgin was carried on the inventory of property belonging to a religious teaching institute and therefore was subject to the expropriation.

In 1909, she was removed from the place she had occupied for over one hundred years and taken to the auction hall. Although there was no public disturbance, there was great indignation among the neighbors of the Madeleine. Fortunately, friends of the Society were able to outbid a second‐hand furniture dealer and were awarded the statue. Shortly thereafter the Virgin was restored to her rightful place in the Madeleine, where she remains to this day.

9 Chapter Two Marie Antoinette. A Chaminade Connection2

The historical image of Queen Marie Antoinette has been shaped mostly by the attacks of her more vicious enemies. These attacks ranged from the more repeatable insults (“Austrian bitch”: a play on the French l’autrichienne, “the Austrian,” feminine) to those so outrageous that even the Parisian mob would not believe them. Frivolous and light‐ hearted, she certainly was; grossly immoral, she certainly was not. She had not wanted to become a queen, or to act like one. She and her husband marked a radical break with the licentious and scandalous behavior of much of the royal family. It is one of the profound ironies of history that they should have paid with their lives for the sins of their predecessors.

In 1790, the Queen had written this: “It is through adversity that we finally come to realize who we really are.” If this statement applies, the following letter is very revelatory. It was penned in her prison cell on October 16, 1793, shortly before she knelt at the guillotine. She was 38 years old. The king had been executed in January. In the interim, her children had been taken from her, and she was alone except for two male guards who stayed in her cell. She had absolutely no privacy, even to change her clothing or to use the chamber pot. She was now writing to the king’s sister, Elisabeth, also in prison after having voluntarily returned from exile to be with her royal brother. On the original document of this letter one can still see the stain of the tears that fell on the paper as Marie Antoinette wrote. It is to you, my dear sister[‐in‐law], that I write for the last time. I have just been condemned not to a shameful death, that is only for criminals, but to join your brother. Like him, innocent, I hope to show the same firmness as he in his last moments. I am at peace as one is when one’s conscience holds no reproach. I regret deeply having to leave my poor children; you know that I lived only for them. And you, my good, kind sister, you who in the goodness of your heart have sacrificed everything to be with us, in what a position I am leaving you! I learned during the trial that my daughter has been separated from you. Alas, poor child, I dare not write her. She would not receive my letter. I do not even know if this will reach you. Receive my blessing on them both. I hope that one day when they are older they will be able to be with you again and enjoy your tender care, and that they will both remember the lesson I have always tried to instill in them, that principles and the exact execution of obligations should be

2 See Chaminade letters nos. 54, 55; Adèle letter no. 225; J. Simler, William Joseph Chaminade, pp. 176-179; text of Marie Antoinette’s letter, Loomis, The Fatal Friendship, 1972.

10 the first foundation of life, and that friendship and mutual trust should be its greatest happiness. May my daughter remember than in view of her age [twelve] she should always help her brother [a sickly eight‐year‐old] with advice born of her wider experience, and let them both remember that they will never be truly happy unless united. Let them both learn from our example how much comfort our affection brought us in the midst of our unhappiness. My son must not forget his father’s last words, which I expressly repeat to him here: he must never seek to avenge our deaths. I have to mention something which hurts me greatly. I know how much distress the child must have caused you. Forgive him, dearest sister. Remember his age and remember how easy it is to make a child say anything you wish, even if he does not understand. The day will come, I hope, when he will feel even more the worth of your tenderness toward them both [the dauphin and his sister. The dauphin had been persuaded by Hebert, the most extreme member of the most violent club, to testify at the trial that his mother and his aunt had both sexually molested him. Hebert himself was later executed.] I now have only to confide in you my last thoughts. I would like to have written them at the beginning of the trial, but apart from the fact that I was not allowed to write, everything moved so quickly that I would not have had the time. I die in the Catholic, Apostolic, and Roman religion, that of my fathers in which I was raised and which I have always professed, having no expectation of spiritual solace and not even knowing if there are any priests of thatn religio here and, in any case, the place where I am would expose them to too much danger if they should enter. I sincerely beg pardon of God for all the wrong I have done during my lifetime. I hope that in God’s goodness, he will receive my soul in his mercy and goodness. I ask pardon of all whom I know and of you in particular, sister, for all the distress that, without wishing to, I may have caused. I forgive my enemies the harm they have done me. I say farewell here to my aunts and to all my brothers and sisters. I had friends. The idea of being separated from them forever and of their grief is one of my greatest regrets in dying. May they know at least that my thoughts were with them until the last moment. Farewell, my good and loving sister. May this letter reach you! Think of me always. I embrace you with all my heart, together with those poor, dear children. Oh God, what an anguish it is to leave them forever! Adieu! Adieu! From this moment I shall occupy myself only with my spiritual duties. . . .

The letter never reached Elisabeth, who was herself executed shortly thereafter. Marie Antoinette had given the letter to Bault, concierge of the Temple [prison], who gave it to Fouguier‐Tinville, the prosecutor, who gave it to Robespierre. After the latter’s own

11 execution, it was found under his mattress by a member of the Convention, Courtois. He kept it until after the Restoration [of the monarchy] in 1815, hoping to use it to purchase his own amnesty. So it came to light only 23 years after it was written.

And the Chaminade connection?

The daughter to whom the queen refers in this letter was later released from prison and returned to her maternal family in Vienna. Her brother, the dauphin, had disappeared under mysterious circumstances which still puzzle historians. Eventually this daughter became the Duchess of Angoulême. On March 12, 1814, a week before the Allies marched on Paris and a month before the first abdication of Napoleon, the Duke and Duchess (whom Napoleon termed “the only man in her family”!) led the royalist troops triumphantly into Bordeaux. Father Chaminade, canon of the Cathedral, no doubt joined Archbishop d’Aviau in singing the Te Deum at the cathedral door. The royal couple came to know and admire Father Chaminade and his work. They returned a year later to celebrate the anniversary of that March 12 event. That evening three of their royalist friends made their consecration as sodalists; it is very probable, although not certain, that the Duke and Duchess were present.

After Napoleon’s “hundred days” and second abdication, the couple again returned to Bordeaux to celebrate. Father Chaminade wrote to Adèle. “We had two copies of the new Manual of the Servant of Mary bound for our friends in the royal family, and M. de Montmorency [one of the three sodalists mentioned above] made the presentation. Before departing [from the Madeleine], the Duchess left a number of floral arrangements she had been given.” Together with the flowers, the Duchess left a framed picture (portrait?) of which Father Chaminade says he “will keep it always on my mantelpiece.”

12 Chapter Three When the Pastor Was a Woman3

It was April 1794, and the Great Terror was at its zenith. On the 16th of that month, the Convention in Paris, seeing a threat in the very presence of nobles, non‐juring clergy, and foreigners, decreed that all “former nobles” were to be exiled from Paris, from any fortified city, and from all seaports and coastal towns. Marie‐Thérèse‐Charlotte de Lamourous, her father, and the rest of the family who were at that time living in the great seaport of Bordeaux were noble and thus were directly affected by the legislation. Part of the silent, faceless class of the poor but honorable “lesser nobility,” they were mere pawns in the larger power struggle taking place in the Capital. They had played no role in the political or social life of the upper classes under the ancien régime, but they were destined to suffer with it.

Marie‐Thérèse, her father, and one of her sisters were granted passports to the maternal property at Pian en Medoc, some 12 miles north of the port city, where another sister, widowed, was already living with her children. Marie‐Thérèse was now 39 years old, described in the passport as approximately 4 feet 11.5 inches tall, with “round face, chestnut hair, ordinary forehead, gray eyes, chestnut eyebrows, nose somewhat large, medium mouth, rounded chin.” She was destined to pass the next six years of her life at Pian, although she managed to return secretly to Bordeaux from time to time. The family property comprised some 250 acres of vineyard, grazing land, and woodland. The parish of Pian had a population of six or seven hundred persons. A few families like the de Lamourous concentrated around the small parish church, but most were scattered about the countryside on various farms, villas, and domains.

Because the one‐storey family home was now barely adequate for the number of people, Marie‐Thérèse chose to live in a shepherd’s dwelling about 150 yards from the main house. It consisted of four small rooms and an alcove which could be concealed and where she set up a small oratory. There dMass coul be celebrated for a few people on the rare occasions when a non‐juror (like Chaminade) could be found willing to risk his life, and theirs. The parish church, dedicated to Saint Seurin, was still open at the time. The pastor, a juror, was a former Benedictine monk, François Andrieu. Although Marie‐Thérèse had met him on previous visits to Pian, she refused to attend any services conducted by the schismatic priest.

Andrieu was by no means a fanatic, probably not even favorably disposed to the revolution. He was a pious man, but of weak character and found himself challenged

3 See J. Stefanelli, Mlle de Lamourous, chap. 5.

13 beyond his strength by the sudden events that had overtaken his calm and secluded monastic life. His motives for taking the oath seem to have been based primarily on economic necessity. He was content to minister to the people who still came to the church and to be on friendly terms with those who did not. Troubled in conscience, he sought out Marie‐Thérèse, grateful that she would allow him to visit her hermitage and unburden himself to her. For her part, she welcomed him graciously while repeatedly urging him to retract his oath to the Civil Constitution.

Two months after the arrive of Marie‐Thérèse, at the very climax of the Terror, Andrieu found the courage to resign his functions as pastor of Pian (June 1794). In October of the following year, in a small oratory in the city of Bordeaux, he did in fact retract his oath and was reconciled to the Church by Father Chaminade. Scarcely three weeks later, with the laws against non‐jurors again being enforced, Andrieu was arrested and imprisoned. Because of his age and infirmities he was not deported; but he remained in prison for the next five years.

With the departure of Andrieu from Pian, the local church was closed to worship, and the people of Pian were without a priest—but they were not with a pastor. From her hermitage in the fields, Marie‐Thérèse had exercised her influence over all the surrounding region and drawn to herself, by her personality and by her lively faith, all classes of persons who had remained faithful to their Catholic convictions. Now, many of Andrieu’s former parishioners came to join them.

A number of interesting details of these years at Pian are preserved for us. One of the first things she had done at Pian had been to arrange a suitable spot in the woods near her heritage where the women and young girls of the surrounding countryside could meet for religious instruction. There, under the magnificent branches of a large tree (still to be seen), she taught them the catechism with a gaiety and inventiveness which proved her a born teacher. She also held such catechism classes for the little children, boys and girls, from the neighborhood. A well‐known Protestant in the area, a man of deep religious convictions, helped her teach catechism to the children. When it was time for the lessons on Confession or the Eucharist, he would tell them: “Now, children, you must go to Mlle de Lamourous.”

It was Marie‐Thérèse who led the people in praying Sunday Vespers, in holding their traditional processions in the fields, who encouraged and sustained the faithful, who prepared the sick for their last moments. The people considered her their spiritual leader. With affection and reverence, they called her “Mamizelle.” Anyone in trouble, those in spiritual or material need, penitents desiring a sign of God’s forgiveness—all were encouraged by their friends and neighbors to seek out Mamizelle. She moderated

14 family arguments, reconciled estranged couples, settled heritance disputes, and even (as later witnesses in her Cause recalled in their own childhood memories) “heard deathbed confessions.” Long after the Revolution was over, the people would still seek her out. Then she would try to convince them, by her own example, that sit wa to the priests that they should go for such ministrations. But for now, they came to her and she received them all with love, understanding, compassion, and wisdom.

On at least one occasion, at the insistent urging of her people, she used the prayers of the Ritual to avert a crop‐threatening storm. Troubled in conscience by this “usurpation” of clerical authority, she reported it to Father Boyer (the vicar general for the underground church) on her next visit to Bordeaux. Had she, not being a priest or a deacon, perhaps done wrong in using the prayers of the official Ritual? No, he reassured her, under the circumstances she had not done any wrong. But, he reminded her, she could have prayed just as well in her own words.

Normally without a priest to whom she herself could go, Marie‐Thérèse became a priest to herself. She would “celebrate her Mass,” preparing the altar as usual and offering her prayers and supplication to the Lord. On Sundays she would make a spiritual communion after having prepared herself just as though she were about to receive the sacrament. Every Saturday she knelt before a portrait of Saint Vincent de Paul to “make her weekly Confession,” declaring her faults to him with great simplicity. Thus she strengthened her own faith, that she might in turn strengthen that of her flock.

15 Chapter Four I Will Stay Here4

Almost immediately upon his return to Bordeaux from exile in Spain, Father Chaminade was approached by his good friend Jeanne‐Germaine de Pichon with a very special request. Before the outbreak of the Revolution, de Pichon had taken into her home several repentant prostitutes who wished to reform their lives. Her work, as so many other good works of the day, had been swept away in the turmoil of the period, and de Pichon had devoted her energies to helping preserve the faith in the Bordeaux underground Church. It was then that she had come to know Chaminade and to respect his judgment.

As soon as some semblance of order had been restored under Napoleon, de Pichon again took up her work with the prostitutes, aided now by a former nun of the Madeleine, Jeanne Cordes. Very quickly there were more girls than de Pichon could accommodate in her own home, and she was forced to rent a house for them. But her situation did not permit her to move in with them, and the girls proved a somewhat unruly bunch. Besides, neither she nor Jeanne Cordes was in good health, and the increasing number of girls required more time and energy than they could give.

Some years earlier de Pichon had met Marie‐Thérèse de Lamourous, and the two had become good friends. De Lamourous seemed to have the very qualities needed for such a delicate and difficult work, and de Pichon’s request of Father Chaminade was simple: Would he please encourage Marie‐Thérèse, his friend and collaborator, to undertake the work?

Father Chaminade’s first response was negative. He knew very well Marie‐Thérèse’s attitude toward the prostitutes of the great port city. She had seen much of their life when living in Bordeaux before the Revolution. She could not stand the thought of being near them and avoided them whenever she could. Besides, he was counting on her cooperation in his own plans for the regeneration of France. After further reflection and prayer, however, and fearful that he might be obstructing the plans of Providence, he again met with de Pichon. He would not stand in the way, he said, if she wished to approach Marie‐Thérèse on the matter; but the latter would have to make her own decision.

At first Marie‐Thérèse begged off. She had other plans; she had already applied to the Carmelites to enter one of their convents. If that did not materialize, she planned to

4 See J. Stefanelli, Mlle de Lamourous, pp. 95-102.

16 establish an institute devoted to education and works of charity. Above all, she told her friend, she could not bear the thought of living with “those creatures.” Yet, like Father Chaminade, she was not satisfied with her initial response. During the turmoil of the Revolution, she had offered her life unconditionally to God. Was God perhaps calling her to this work? She prayed, she reflected, she wrestled interiorly with her own feelings.

Finally, she agreed to visit the house de Pichon had rented and where some 15 girls had gathered. To her amazement, as soon as she entered the house she experienced a deep calm, a peace and a joy not normally hers. She felt none of the repugnance she had expected; she was not afraid of the women; she sensed within herself only deep compassion, sympathy, and love toward them. But after she had left the house (and she made more than one visit in the month of December, 1800), all the old repugnance and disgust returned to haunt her. She could not bear the thought of spending her life among such women whose values were so at variance with her own. Yet . . . in turning her back on the women, was she following the inspiration of the Spirit of God, or her own capricious nature?

Her sisters, with whom she was then living at Pian, outside Bordeaux, were insistent she forget about any such outrageous project. Her place, they said, was with them. Both widows, with five small children between them, they needed her at home. So, too, did all the poor priestless people of Pian who had supported her, and been supported by her, during the darkest days of the Terror. She was out of her mind to even think of going to Bordeaux to live with a bunch of depraved, brazen, and uncouth prostitutes!

Two unforeseen events helped her to reach a decision. Her brother‐in‐law, Joseph‐Frix de Labordere, came to Bordeaux on a business trip. He was an exemplary Christian husband and father, a man of deep faith, and Marie‐Thérèse had come to respect and value his judgment. She consulted him on her quandary. What should she do? How should she interpret her experience and her feelings? Was God really asking her to leave her family and to take up residence with a group of prostitutes? Could she ever learn to cope with them, with their personalities and their failings, with their behavior and their ideas? Did they really need her?

De Labordere asked a few probing questions, listened, prayed and reflected. After a short discussion he finally said, “Yes, I think you should go ahead with this proposal; it will be to the glory of God.”

Shortly after this, Marie‐Thérèse had a determining experience. Ill, she had taken to her bed. On New Year’s night, she dreamed of a last judgment at which she was an

17 onlooker. A number of prostitutes appeared before the tribunal and were condemned. As they were falling into the abyss, each turned her eyes toward Marie‐Thérèse, saying, “If only you had come, we would have been saved.”

So impressed was she by this dream that despite her weakness, she decided to travel the 12 miles from Pian to Bordeaux the very next morning. On an impulse, she stuffed her nightcap into her pocket, then mounted a donkey, and headed for the city. Several times en route, either because of her illness or because of the ill‐humor of the beast, she was thrown to the ground; each time she remounted, even more determined to pursue her inspiration.

Having arrived in Bordeaux, she went immediately to Father Chaminade, begging him to accompany her. Together they went to the de Pichon house to get Jeanne‐Germaine, and the three of them continued on across town to the rented house where the women were living. Once in the building and among the women, Marie‐Thérèse again experienced the calm and peace and joy of her previous visits; once again she felt so very much at home with them. Once again, she toured the house while the women watched and whispered among themselves.

The wintry day was soon far spent, and Marie‐Thérèse had taken a candle in hand. The small party, having toured the house and spoken with the girls, was about to leave. But this time, Marie‐Thérèse held on to the candle and showed the other two out the door. To their inquiring look she said simply, “I will stay here.” For the rest of her life she would remain among her filles, leaving them briefly only twice in the next 36 years. It was January 2, 1801, and Marie‐Thérèse de Lamourous, at age 46, had found her new vocation.

18 Chapter Five The First To Go5

His memories of the Revolution and of the Terror were those of a child–a kaleidoscope of images, some hazy, others all too clear, images of rioting mobs, of frightening soldiers, of fear and worry on the faces of his mother and father, of his family gathered secretly in prayer. Antoine Cantau was born in 1791, when the movement of the Revolution had already gathered considerable momentum. As a small child, he lived through the Great Terror (the Reign of Terror) that bloodied the streets of his native Bordeaux. He was baptized, most probably, by a non‐juring priest operating in the Catholic underground, and what religious instruction he received was given by his mother in hushed tones with curtains drawn and doors locked.

For us, those years are years constructed from conjecture and supposition based on his later life, for nothing is really known about him until after the turmoil of the Revolution had brought Napoleon to power. It was only then that the churches were reopened, the clergy was invited to return to public practice, and the Catholic Church, although still deeply divided by schism, began to breathe freely again. Antoine was only nine years old. His family apparently lived ewithin th parish of Sainte‐Croix, at the southeastern corner of old Bordeaux, a few yards from the Garonne River. They were a people of the lower socioeconomic strata, a family of laborers whose lot during the economic woes of the Revolution no doubt had been quite severe.

Young Cantau quickly learned the trade of barrel‐maker. He also soon became very active in his parish and was assiduous in the practice of his faith. Another barrel‐maker who frequented services in the same parish, Jean‐Baptiste Bidon, some 15 years older than Cantau, was impressed by the latter’s apostolic energy and by his evident devotion during the parish liturgical services. Since 1801, Bidon had been a member of the Sodality of the Immaculate Conception, eventually centered at the Chapel of the Madeleine. After the Sodality had been suppressed by Napoleon in 1809, Bidon invited Cantau to join, and Antoine responded positively.

Following the usual probationary period, Cantau pronounced his official consecration as a sodalist on Feb. 2, 1810. Shortly thereafter, being now 19 years old, he was drafted into military service, as were most young men of this time under the Napoleonic regime. He is reported to have served faithfully, without compromising either his religion or his morals.

5 See index in J. Simler, William Joseph Chaminade; Simler, circular #14; Menology, vol. 7; Chaminade letters, notes 101, 103.

Having completed his term with the military, Cantau returned to Bordeaux and to the Sodality of the Madeleine. As a sodalist, he helped to found in his own parish of Sainte‐ Croix a sodality‐club for young men between the ages of 12 and 16. This new club combined religious instruction with healthful activities and apprenticeship for jobs. Cantau was eventually elected to several important offices in the Madeleine Sodality. He was zealous and enthusiastic in the fulfillment of his duties, while at the same time humble and simple in his manner. Eventually, under the personal direction of Father Chaminade, Cantau, like Bidon before him, professed private vows as a sodalist.

On October 2, 1817, at Father Chaminade’s property of Saint‐Laurent, the first five members of the new Society of Mary (Lalanne, Collineau, Perrière, Daguzan, Clouzet) finished their decisive retreat. Shortly thereafter, Bidon and Cantau asked to be admitted to the group. At the close of the retreat of 1818 (August 27 to September 5), which Father Chaminade said laid the “solemn foundation of the Society of Mary,” Cantau pronounced his (private) perpetual vows.

Lalanne drew up a provisional rule (of only six articles), based on the Rules for religious living in the world, but adapted to community living. A house was rented on Segur Court, a cul‐de‐sac off Rue de Segur. The house had a small garden and five rooms: they became chapel, study, dormitory, refectory, and kitchen. Father Chaminade blessed the house November 24, and thet nex day Perrière moved in. The others followed as soon as they could free themselves from their other obligations (Collineau had to wait a year before his parents would give permission for him to join the new venture.)

When Cantau arrived at the house, he was greeted by Perrière, the Director. Cantau said he had been told by Father Chaminade that he would be responsible for the house‐ cleaning and the making of beds. Perrière responded, “We are accustomed to making our own beds . . . but we do need a cook.” So Cantau, with a little help from his friends, became a cook.

The community moved from Segur to larger quarters on the Rue des Menuts shortly before Christmas of 1818, and additional members moved in. Cantau’s workload increased accordingly and his health began to suffer. However, he continued to work and, even when quite ill, would go withe th rest of the community to daily Mass at the parish church of Saint‐Michel, a few minutes’ walk from the house. By July his condition was much worse. Cantau lamented, “It is strange that when I should now be thinking only of the salvation of my soul, instead I am always concerned about my

20 body: I think only of how I might escape death, whereas I should be taking the means to prepare to die well.”

On July 16, Feast of Our Lady of Mt. Carmel, Archbishop d’Aviau visited the small community. When Cantau asked for his blessing, d’Aviau said, “You are seriously ill; we must be resigned to the will of God, and in your present condition, you no doubt sometimes think of the vanity and emptiness of things here below.” To which Cantau responded, “I renounced the world long ago, your Grace; it has pleased God to give me the grace to despise whatever is only of this world.”

Soon Cantau was no longer able to go to the church. On August 9, Archbishop d’Aviau approved a private chapel for the community, where Mass could be celebrated and the Blessed Sacrament reserved. On the eve of the Assumption, Cantau told Perrière, “I have asked God to die tomorrow.” But it was not to be. Meanwhile, Father Chaminade, who had been on visitation to the Daughters of Mary in Agen, hurried back to Bordeaux. On August 19, Cantau made his Confession to Father Chaminade, who then celebrated Mass in the newly‐approved oratory and gave Cantau Communion. The patient bade his farewell to the community, asking their pardon and prayers.

The next day was the feast of Saint Bernard, and the dying man fervently recited Bernard’s Memorare to our Lady. When he could no longer say the prayer, he pinned the leaflet to his chest, over his heart. As the final commendation was being prayed, he died calmly and peacefully. He was 29 years old, the first member of the Society of Mary to die.

21 Chapter Six My Brother, François6

William Joseph Chaminade, Founder of the Society of Mary, was one of 15 children of Blaise Chaminade and Catherine Bethon; only six survived into adulthood. Of these, only two married, and only one continued the family genes, Blaise François (usually referred to simply as François, to distinguish him from his father and from another brother, both named Blaise). He was born in 1755 at Périgueux and died there in 1843.

In 1777 François married Marie Soulignac de Saint‐Rome, and they soon had three children: Jean‐Baptiste (“Baptistou”), Sophie, and Rose. In 1785 thirty‐year‐old François took over the family business in Périgueux. His parents, married 43 years, had already buried nine of their children. Sixty‐eight‐year‐old Blaise was in poor health and ready to turn over his faltering business affairs to his son. With his 63‐year‐old wife, he moved to Mussidan to be near their three priest‐sons there.

Meanwhile, as might be expected, François became the purveyor of goods for the collège where his three brothers were in charge of the administration. It is not clear whether his sister Lucrèce, widowed in 1781 after less than a year of marriage and no children, assisted him in his work at that time (she did later) or went with her parents to Mussidan. What is clear is that she had a 5,000 pound/livre equity in the collège when the Revolution broke out. During the years 1784 and 1790, there was a steady correspondence between François and his brother William Joseph, who was steward and buyer for the collège. We have in the General Administration Archives over 20 of François’ letters from that period.

François was six years William Joseph’s senior and certainly more experienced in economic and financial matters. Through their correspondence, and on several visits back and forth between Mussidan and Périgueux (some twenty miles apart), François educated his younger brother in business practices. The latter perhaps best summarized his own experience in a letter of May 10, 1831, to Jean‐Baptiste Lalanne: “Under both the old and the new regime, I have found few communities in which there were no complaints about the syndic. It is the most disagreeable office, in my opinion, that can be exercised in a community. At times great virtue and strength of soul are needed to carry it out conscientiously.”

6 See Chaminade letters nos. 94bis; 135 and prenote; 162bis; 178; 190; 259; 332; 357; 424; 425; 434bis; 442; 536bis; 537bis; 540; 590; 1199; AGMAR box 26; 11.5.109, 110, 113, 143, 147, 148; 11.9.197; 218.2.2, 3; J. Simler, William Joseph Chaminade; H. Kramer, Chaminade Lore; V. Vasey, The Last Years and Another Portrait.

22 Their letters of this pre‐Revolutionary period are mainly about business matters, but some personal and family affairs also creep into them. François’ letters, as business letters, were filled in the office of the steward at the college, and confiscated (and thereby saved for us!) by the anticlerical government. In some of the letters Father Chaminade is identified as “Doctor of Theology,” and on several there are notes in his own handwriting.

On at least one occasion Father Chaminade complained that François treated him more as a businessman than as a brother. But François was determined that his younger brother would learn correct business practices and accurate bookkeeping procedures, even at the cost of sometimes reprimanding him. He usually signed his letters “your brother and friend,” and he assured him that his priest‐brother’s business affairs “will always be dear to me.”

The letters furnish us with many interesting details. On one occasion, when François’ son Baptistou was visiting his priest‐uncles at Mussidan, François sent specific instructions on how to measure the child’s head for a badly‐needed hat. “The kid,” he wrote to William Joseph, “is particularly attached to you and says he loves you more than all the others.” On another occasion, he advised William Joseph not to go to court to collect a debt, for he would not win and it might do the collège considerable harm in the eyes of the public.

François often paid for goods for the college and then billed his brother for reimbursement. Once he put out over 300 livres for turkeys and truffles, a specialty of the region. Their accounting procedures obviated the need of actually sending large sums of cash back and forth. Sometimes François would order a supply of wine from William Joseph for resale in Périgueux. He once asked for several barrels of “red wine from the best that you have.” But on another occasion he complained that his brother had sent him over 300 bottles instead of the 50 or 60 he usually took. He could not, he said, afford to invest that much money in wine that “cannot be sold in the space of three years.” Many other interesting financial and familial details of their correspondence may be found in Kramer’s Chaminade Lore.

With the outbreak of the Revolution, matters changed. William Joseph and his parents went to Bordeaux. So did his brother Louis, although he was forced into exile in 1792. Their oldest brother, Jean‐Baptiste, had already died at Mussidan in 1790. Blaise, the Franciscan Recollect, was driven from his monastery in Périgueux and spent the years of the Revolution in exile in Italy, chiefly, it seems, in Rome and in Assisi. After the death of their mother (Bordeaux, 1794) and with the impending exile of William Joseph

23 (1797), their father Blaise returned to Périgueux and again lived with François and his family. Blaise died in 1799, while his three surviving priest‐sons were all in exile.

We know almost nothing about François’ life during the Napoleonic period, 1800‐1815, except that he continued in business. All three of his children married: Rose, to François Lavergne, probably in 1802; Sophie, to François de Lala in 1803; Jean‐Baptiste, to Jeanne Segue in 1807. François’ wife Marie died in 1809. Two years later François lost a lawsuit and had to declare bankruptcy. From then on, his life seems to have gone downward. He entered into a liaison with a Cecile de Lancel, a relationship for which Father Chaminade reproached him, urging him to marry her or to separate from her. Cecile bore him a son, Jean‐Victor, in 1814.

His son Jules was born in 1809, but it is not clear whether Jules was a son by Marie or by Cecile. This Jules would later enter the Society of Mary. A postulant in 1822, he is recorded as having professed temporary vows in 1824 [at age 15?]. He served as Father Chaminade’s secretary from 1826 to 1829, left the Society shortly after 1830, and died on the island of Martinique.

In June of 1816 François again declared bankruptcy, and his business was in receivership until 1821. He blamed his misfortune in great part on the policies of the government. He had taken contracts to provide clothing for the military, but price‐ controls and the fall of Napoleon had made it impossible for him to recoup his costs. In May of 1827, he regularized his relationship with Cecile, registering their marriage and recognizing Jean‐Victor as their natural son.

The fact that at his second marriage François did not recognize Jules as his son by Cecile may well indicate that Jules was son of Marie. Moreover, it is possible that Jules’ archival birth date of 1809 is in error, for at that date Marie would already have been 52 years old and close to death. However, if his date of birth is advanced, as seems more probable, even to the late 1790s, his profession of vows in 1824 becomes more believable.

Jean‐Victor, whom François did recognize as his natural son by Cecile, became a postulant at Saint‐Laurent in that same year of 1824, when he was only ten years old. However, he withdraw from the Society shortly thereafter, returning to Périgueux. Toward the end of the Founder’s life, Victor took up residence in Bordeaux.

After having regularized his relationship with Cecile de Lancel, François, fending off his creditors, turned to his brother William Joseph for financial help. The family house had been sold previously and the proceeds distributed to François’ three children (9,000

24 francs to Sophie, 8,000 to Jean‐Baptiste, 9,000 to Rose) and to William Joseph and their sister Lucrèce (5,333 francs). Now some 45,000 francs in debt, François asked that some of that money be used to help satisfy his creditors.

In a letter to David Monier, his attorney, dated December 12, 1827, Father Chaminade refused such aid, chiefly because of his brother’s “unbecoming conduct” but also for other reasons which he detailed to his attorney‐friend. “(1) My sister’s needs, which continue to increase while my income diminishes each day; (2) we have already used up the money, as I explained to the purchaser of the house who had wanted to retain the capital and pay us only the interest; (3) my sister, as she has herself told him [François] and as he seems to recall quite well, cannot and does not wish to give him anything; (4) by law and custom, my own ‘clerical title’ requires that I have a certain fund on hand. Couch our refusal in kind and suitable language; yet let him sense our real displeasure with his lifestyle” [although he had already regularized his relationship with Cecile in May of that year].

As far as correspondence available to us would indicate, Father Chaminade’s contact with his family continued, especially through his niece, François’ daughter Sophie. In 1803, Sophie, then 23 years old, had married François Lala (or de Lala) by whom she had one son, Jacques‐Firmin, born the following year. The Lala family moved to Sarlat, some 50 miles to the east of Mussidan. François Lala urged Father Chaminade to seek a pastorate there, but the Founder told him that if he came to Bordeaux and saw what his uncle was doing, it would be clear that “it is not possible for me to accept a pastorate, and especially in another diocese.”

In 1820, François Lala wanted his son, 16‐year‐old Firmin, to attend the new school, Pension Sainte‐Marie, conducted by the newly‐formed Society of Mary on Rue de Menuts, Bordeaux. However, the tuition was quite high and Lala thought perhaps only the sons of the very wealthy could be boarders. Father Chaminade sent him a brochure on the school and assured him that special conditions might be arranged for the boy. Firmin, in fact, did enter the school that term. Lala asked Father Chaminade whether he might also arrange such favorable conditions for the sons of some of his friends. But the Founder told him that that would not be possible, for “what one does for a beloved and worthy nephew one cannot do for everyone.”

Within the year it became clear that the teenager Firmin was a far from perfect pupil. The brothers at Sainte‐Marie were most unhappy with his behavior, and Lala was inclined to withdraw him from the school. Father Chaminade urged patience, however, believing the boy would change his ways. For some time Father Chaminade did not write to Lala, for there was nothing good to report. The latter, in turn, wrote a very

25 strong letter to his son, urging his reform. Apparently the letter made its point, for Firmin immediately began to improve.

Father Chaminade waited some time to make sure the improvement was not simply temporary. Then he wrote to Lala (November, 1821) that with the commencement of the new school dyear, he ha gone in person to the Pension to check matters out. The report was very good: the teachers were very satisfied with Firmin, as was the lad’s confessor, and the other pupils were in amazement. “Firmin has been converted,” they said. Before Firmin returned home the following February, he met with Father Chaminade and promised the priest he would behave “as a gentleman and a Christian.” Yet, Father Chaminade suggested to Lala, perhaps there was not yet common agreement on what “gentleman” and “Christian” meant, and added that he hoped some day to have a frank discussion of the matter with Firmin.

Meanwhile, it is clear from the correspondence that the relationship between Father Chaminade and Lala and his wife continued to be very good. On different occasions Father Chaminade performed services or ran errands at Bordeaux for Lala, forwarding documents or getting prices on goods Lala was buying or selling. Lala and Sophie in turn sent on bags of chestnuts or turkey stuffed with truffles. The turkey of 1822 arrived before Lent, and it was consumed “with gratitude and in your memory.” But in 1825 it arrived too late, after the Lenten abstinence had begun; no doubt it went to the pupils at the Pension, or perhaps to the poor.

In 1824 Firmin was 20 years old and subject to military conscription by lot. Father Chaminade suggested to Sophie that the family investigate the possibility of paying for a substitute, as was commonly done in many areas of France. At about this same time, Lala had asked Father Chaminade to use his influence with the Minister to get him a position he desired. Father Chaminade explained to Sophie that his “arm” was not that long and that there was nothing he could do in the present case to help his nephew. “I shall always be at your service, yours and your husband’s and Firmin’s; but use me in those things that depend upon me!” Later, when Lala again made a similar request, Father Chaminade admitted that he might be able to help were the position in the department of the Gironde; but in the Dordogne, where Lala was, he had no influential contacts.

Father Chaminade was careful to include in his letters greetings from Lucrèce, his sister. The two of them always extended greetings to all the Lala family as well as to a Mlle Mondesse (family servant, friend?). Often, too, he was obliged to excuse himself for not having written sooner or more often. Once he wrote, “Finally I am able to answer the two letters you [Lala] sent me. Because of my usual many occupations, I sometimes lose

26 sight of certain letters. But that is not the case with yours: there are few days, if any at all, that I have not wanted to write to you. You may not believe this, but it is the truth. However, I was unable to do so without neglecting very important business matters, and even some of those I have had to postpone.”

It seems that Firmin was able to avoid military service. At any rate, a year after his eligibility for conscription there is no indication in the correspondence that he was anywhere other than at Sarlat with his parents. yIn Ma of 1825 Sophie wrote to Father Chaminade, offering to send some wool as she had done previously. She also mentioned that Firmin’s “reform” had proved long‐term and that there was now talk of his getting married. Could Father Chaminade help in finding him a suitable spouse?

Under date of July 11, Father Chaminade answered her letter. He said he presumed she would prefer a short note early rather than wait for a long letter later. He was grateful, he wrote, for her offer to send more wool. Yes, he would be happy to receive even more than last year, but only on the condition that she let him know clearly what it cost so he could reimburse her expenditure.

As for helping find a wife for Firmin, he was very hesitant to enter into the affair. Based on his past experience with Firmin, he suspected that a suggestion coming from someone other than him probably stood a better chance of being graciously received. Meanwhile, let Firmin learn his business well and live as a good Christian. No doubt God would indicate in good time whom he should marry. “He is still,” Father Chaminade reflected, “too young to get married.” Firmin was 21.

In 1826 François and Sophie Lala made a trip to Bordeaux. They had come there principally in the hopes that Lala might obtain there the “good position” he had not been able to secure in the department of the Dordogne where he lived. Because Father Chaminade had told him some two years earlier that he might be able to be of some service in this regard if Lala were investigating possibilities in the department of the Gironde, Lala had asked Father Chaminade to intercede for him with persons of some influence.

The stay in Bordeaux, however, led to several misunderstandings that strained the relationship between Father Chaminade and the Lalas. Although Lala had asked Father Chaminade’s help, he was not at all disposed to take Father Chaminade’s advice. When the priest pointed out difficulties which might be encountered or precautions it might be good to take, Lala accused him of being opposed to his plans. And if Father Chaminade did not approve what Lala proposed, then Lala presumed Father

27 Chaminade was indifferent to his needs or not interested in pursuing his affair. Father Chaminade could only “bemoan [the fact], be patient, and let him do his thing.”

In July, while the Lalas were in Bordeaux, Lucrèce Chaminade‐Laulanie died. The Lalas were with her in her final moments. She was, of course, Sophie’s aunt. Lucrèce had been with her priest‐brother some 15 years, housekeeping and seconding his apostolic works. Her death provoked a major disagreement between Father Chaminade and his older brother François concerning Lucrèce’s share of the family inheritance. As we have seen, she had invested some 5,000 livres in the collège at Mussidan.

After the funerals of Lucrèce and Archbishop d’Aviau, who died just two days after her, Father Chaminade left for Agen to begin a lengthy visitation trip. From Agen he planned to travel to the northeast, to visit the Marianist communities there and to help prepare the Daughters of Mary’s proposed foundation at Arbois. He would be away until October. Before leaving, he asked Lala and Sophie not to come to the Madeleine in his absence. He presumed they would understand that he had some good reason for making the request. However, Lala took offense at this, interpreting it as a sign of Father Chaminade’s indifference to his affairs. For her part, Sophie thought perhaps they were being a burden to him. So upset were they that, on his return, they came to the Madeleine only in passing, to say goodbye before leaving for Sarlat. Although both tried to hide their sentiments, it was clear to Father Chaminade that they were unhappy with him.

On January 1, 1827, Sophie again wrote to Father Chaminade from Sarlat, sending her greetings for the New Year as well as a stuffed turkey. She reported that the harvests had suffered from hailstorms. Firmin, she said, was in Paris, alone. She was concerned about him. Had Father Chaminade heard from him?

Quickly, within the week, Father Chaminade acknowledged receipt of the letter and the turkey. The latter, he said, would be eaten with gratitude for their kindness. He said he had in his heart already wished her and François the blessings of the New Year; he was happy now to do it “in writing and with deep sincerity.” He was sorry that Lala’s feelings had been hurt, and that they had misunderstood his request not to come to the Madeleine in his absence.

As for Firmin, no, he had not known that he was in Paris and he had not heard from him. He was, however, concerned that Firmin’s faith and practice of religion might suffer in the Capital. Life there was not conducive to spiritual growth. He would recommend him to the attention of his good friend there, O’Lombel, though he was not sure just what the latter could do for Firmin.

Father Chaminade concluded his letter this way. “Give my kindest greetings, I beg you, my dear niece, to your good husband, whether he is happy or not with his uncle. Give him a hug for me. I trust you will be able to lead him to remember the sentiments of affection and interest which I have for him, for you, and for your son.”

The relationship with Sophie’s father, Chaminade’s brother François, however, continued to deteriorate. François was still experiencing severe financial problems, and only his wife’s industriousness was managing to keep the household fairly solvent. With the death of Lucrèce, François believed some of his problems might be solved. He was claiming that because their sister had died childless, her portion of the family inheritance should be divided among the remaining siblings and that therefore he, François, had a right to his lawful share. He was sure his priest‐brother had the money and was holding out on him. As to Father Chaminade’s claim that Lucrèce’s share of the money had been used by her to take care of her own needs over the past quarter century, François maintained that she could not have done so legally without prior written declaration to that intent. Where was the appropriate legal document? And if Father Chaminade could not produce such a document, then, François threatened, there would be a lawsuit to force Father Chaminade to pay the money presumably owed.

The day after his letter of reconciliation to Sophie and Lala, Father Chaminade wrote (Jan. 8, 1827) to David Monier, his attorney, about the ongoing difficulty with François. Was François correct in saying that Lucrèce could not legally have used her inheritance without prior written declaration? If so, Father Chaminade would concede; he did not want to go to court against his own brother.

Monier was in agreement with Father Chaminade that François’ claim to Lucrèce’s share of the inheritance had no legal footing. Father Chaminade wrote François a short note to that effect and waited for the next move. For the next three months there was no further word from François, and Father Chaminade interpreted this to mean he had let the matter drop “peacefully.”

But it was not dropped. An unidentified intermediary appeared at the Madeleine in François’ behalf, reiterating the claims against Father Chaminade. Not knowing the identity of the intermediary or how much of the family situation he was aware of, and not quite trusting him, Father Chaminade did not enter into any negotiations with him. Instead he wrote to François, offering to send a detailed answer to his January letter if François would indicate that he would give such a response his careful attention. In return, he received a lengthy and contentious letter from François, restating all his

29 claims, adding personal accusations against Father Chaminade, and complaining that he had not received an answer sooner.

Surprised that François was still so upset, Father Chaminade wrote him a long letter under date of May 29 (1827). What especially disturbed him, he said, was the “agitation of mind” the letter revealed. “May God spread his balm upon it. The spirit of kindness and calm that come from him is the greatest good of this life. And should you call this a ‘sermon’ and not like it, [I assure you] it is a sermon which I preach to myself.”

He then proceeded to respond to the various items in François’ January letter. Although most of them, he pointed out, really had nothing to do with the main issue, he would touch upon them all lest François accuse him of evading them. He dismissed the contention of François that, given all the titles and positions Father Chaminade had, he must certainly be rich. Whatever titles or positions he had, they were unimportant, and they certainly had not made him wealthy. As for Father Chaminade’s presumed neglect of and indifference to his natural family, the facts spoke for themselves. Indeed François’ own complaints about Father Chaminade’s advice would seem to indicate he had been involved in family affairs even more than François would have liked!

The main issue, of course, was Lucrèce’s money. François claimed she had loaned her priest‐brother 7,000 livres 40 years ago, and that he had been benefiting from it ever since; that some 20 years ago she had taken with her over 3,000 francs when she retired; that she died wealthy and had left a will “somewhere”; that he, François, was never compensated for her expenses while she had lived with his family.

Father Chaminade’s answers may be briefly summarized: Lucrèce had invested some 5,000 livres in the collège of Mussidan which had been confiscated by the Revolution. Despite the steward’s claims made against the Directory of Mussidan in 1790, there had been no compensation. As to the 3,000 francs, it should be clear even to François that those funds must have been used up over the past 20 years or so to care for Lucrèce’s living costs and medical bills in her protracted illness; there was simply nothing of that left.

If there was a will, let François find it. Father Chaminade did not believe there was one, and he was not about to waste time or money trying to find one. As to Lucrèce’s presumed wealth at the time of her death, let him speak to his own daughter and her husband, the Lalas, who were present at that moment. Even her funeral had to be paid for by Father Chaminade himself. And as for compensation for her living costs while with François and his family, Father Chaminade suggested strongly that François

30 should rather be grateful that he had had such a good manager for his store and that any “compensation” should have been in the other direction.

Toward the end of the year Father Chaminade was again in direct correspondence with Firmin. While in Paris, the young man had met a wealthy woman whom he had hoped to marry. The arrangement did not materialize, and he had returned to his family. Now he was writing to Father Chaminade asking for a substantial loan.

His letter was awaiting Father Chaminade on his return from his annual visitation upriver. Father Chaminade suggested that the failed arrangement was not necessarily a negative event. “In seeking a young woman with much wealth rather than personal qualities, you ran the risk of entering into a marriage that might have cost you dearly.” Perhaps, he thought, Firmin’s stay in the Capital had tarnished him with too many worldly values; it had obviously not been very productive “in the domain of religion.” As for a loan, that was out of the question. “I would love to be able to loan you the amount you asked for. If I could do so, I would not even charge you interest. But I am myself flat broke. Only with difficulty can I meet my own obligations.”

After the revolution of 1830, Father Chaminade believed it more prudent to absent himself from Bordeaux. The Lala family offered him hospitality in their home at Sarlat. Although grateful, Father Chaminade chose to go to Agen instead. Later that year Lala was again in Bordeaux, on business. Father Chaminade was able to be of some help to him by referring him to his attorney friend Rauzan. Lala was appreciative of the help and careful to compensate Rauzan for his services.

Some time later, Firmin married Pauline de la Vaissiere. They had three children. Some of their descendants were present at the Madeleine in 1950 for the dedication of the new statue of Father Chaminade on the façade of the chapel.

François, the elder brother, spent his final years a self‐pitying, depressed, and broken man. When he was 84, four years before his death in 1843, he wrote to his son‐in‐law Lala: I am old; I have one foot in the grave; I am nothing; I have nothing; I expect nothing from anyone. You are aware of the hardheartedness of the one who is in Bordeaux, who for 26 years has not come to my help; has never given me a penny; has shown only ingratitude. I leave all that in the hands of Providence. When I say I am nothing and have nothing, it is the truth. I am only the servant, the secretary, albeit a trusted one, of my wife. But I am in no way

31 involved in her business dealings. I am only grateful to her for feeding me, for caring for me, and for allowing me to take lodging with her. François Chaminade, Périgueux, March 23, 1839.

32 Chapter Seven Couillard, . . . aka . . . aka7

He was a promising young man. It was while passing through Paris in 1828 that Father Chaminade first met him. Pierre‐Charles‐Joseph Couillard came with high recommendations from some rather important people, including Bishop de Luçon and Father Chaminade’s good friend, Bishop Forbin‐Janson of Nancy. Having successfully passed the initial interviews and testing period, Couillard was accepted by Father Chaminade as a postulant of the Society. He claimed he had no funds, so Father Chaminade gave him travel money and sent him to Saint‐Remy to begin his probation there. On the way, from Auxerre, Couillard wrote to Father Chaminade that he had been robbed and requested additional monies to be able to complete his trip. Once there, he impressed the community with his positive attitude and good conduct. He did not display great intelligence, but his heart was evidently in the right place.

In September of 1829 he was admitted to the novitiate. His name was changed to Martin Toussaint (All‐Saints) because, as Father Chaminade later wrote, the community had some misgivings about using his family name. “Couillard,” by assimilation with “couillon,” had with time taken on some of the vulgar and “obscene” connotation of the latter word.8 His immediate superiors were quite content with him. However, Brother Clouzet, the superior at Saint‐Remy, may have had some doubts about this new candidate, for in April of 1830 when Father Rothéa needed a sacristan at Colmar, Clouzet was only too ready to offer the services of Toussaint. The novice was ill at the time, and before he recovered Father Chaminade overruled Clouzet, sending Brother Veillemard from Bordeaux instead. As soon as Toussaint was well, Clouzet sent him to Saint‐Hippolyte as the infirmarian.

Not long after, Toussaint was assigned to the Orphanage of Saint‐Jacques, in Besançon. The orphanage was in one wing of a large hospital administered, under the authority of the diocese, by a congregation of religious women. The small community of brothers was charged with the supervision and classroom instruction of the young boys, but under the general direction of the superior of the hospital. Toussaint proved himself pious and zealous, and most successful in instilling a sense of religion and piety among the youngest boys. However, he was highly temperamental and some of the devotional practices he encouraged among the boys were clearly superstitious. Brother Bousquet, the Director, was asked to supervise him closely. Toussaint proved very obedient and,

7 See Toussaint in Chaminade letters, vols. 3, 4, 5, 8; AGMAR 28.3.819 to 28.6.33. 8 For “couillon,” Larrouse gives “twerp” or “jerk,” with the comment: “Couillon, couillonnade, couillonnerier are not in decent use.”

33 as Father Chaminade later commented, changed his behavior in such a way as to be source of edification to all.

In the summer of 1835, Bousquet had to be moved from Besançon. He was transferred first to Courtefontaine to help supervise the workers there, and then assigned as novicemaster of the Working Brothers at Saint‐Remy. He was replaced as Director at the Orphanage by Brother Gobillot. At first the members of the small community (Gobillot, Toussaint, and Salmon) were very united and edifying. But Gobillot proved somewhat too forceful in restraining Toussaint’s zeal. He forbade him certain religious practices he conducted for the young sodalists. Father Chaminade was forced to intervene in Toussaint’s defense. However, not trusting the latter’s judgment entirely, Father Chaminade ask Father Oudet, chaplain of the hospital, to closely supervise Toussaint’s zealous endeavors.

This arrangement, however, did not work out very well, as Toussaint began to seek advice from a number of different people, playing one against the other. This behavior caused some dissention and complaints. By mid‐summer of 1836 the community was at odds, Salmon siding with Gobillot in his complaints against the behavior and poor judgment of Toussaint. Meanwhile, the latter had succeeded in establishing an excellent personal reputation in the town and had won the admiration and support of Archbishop Mathieu of Besançon.

With time, relationships between Gobillot and Mother Lamy, superior of the hospital, had deteriorated. Gobillot was very sensitive, and criticism did not sit well with him. Her interception (as director of the hospital) of his mail did nothing to improve matters. He asked to visit the Carthusians at Grenoble to make a retreat and, it seems, perhaps to seek admission there. In any case, he wanted to move out of Besançon, and Father Chaminade had to find a replacement for him. Mother Lamy asked for the return of Bousquet, a request Father Chaminade was unable to grant. Yet, as Father Chaminade wrote to the Archbishop, “Neither Toussaint nor Salmon is capable of being director [of the community]; neither is either of them capable of conducting classes.” He promised to look elsewhere for a suitable director.

The archbishop, however, insisted that Toussaint be appointed to replace Gobillot. Despite his own reservations, Father Chaminade finally consented. Under date of Nov. 13, 1836, he named Toussaint director, “under the direction and supervision of Father Oudet and without prejudice to the obedience he owes to Father Carel, vicar general and local superior of the establishment.” Salmon was replaced by Brother Martin, and Brother Chevassu was added to the community as a teacher for the young boys. To Father Chaminade’s surprise, the archbishop’s choice seemed to have been a good one.

34 Toussaint proved to be a good administrator, full of zeal and devotedness, and performed to the general satisfaction of all. Sometime during this period, he was admitted to the profession of perpetual vows in the Society.

The night of April 7‐8, 1840, a great fire completely destroyed the hospital and everything in it. Damages were estimated at some 200,000 francs. The orphans were relocated to the nearby town of Ecole and housed in the building occupied by the missionaries of the diocese; Toussaint and his small community accompanied them there. Meanwhile, Chevassu had been transferred (he left the Society that summer), and Alex Savary had replaced him. In mid‐July Savary wrote to Father Chaminade asking to be permitted to profess his perpetual vows the following August 15. His request was supported by a gracious letter from Toussaint asking Father Chaminade to grant the petitioner’s request for such a great favor.

But before August 15 arrived, Toussaint’s little world began to fall apart. The missionaries had begun to notice certain disquieting elements in his behavior. As Father Chaminade later wrote, “Soon the intuition of the missionaries recognized what in him had until then escaped the notice of everyone. They noticed his frequent absences, his pettiness, his uncouthness, his rudeness. . . . Until then he had succeeded in fooling everyone.” His fatal error came when he falsely accused one of the missionaries and a “respectable male religious.” The carefully‐woven tissue of the confidence‐man began to unravel. Or, as Father Chaminade put it, “He was imprudent enough to calumniate [them], and that was the obstacle against which the mask of his hypocrisy was smashed.” Toussaint was, in fact, leading a double life. “I do not know that anyone ever accused him of debauchery,” Father Chaminade admitted. But other accusations were to be plentiful.

It is somewhat ironic that the letter alerting Father Chaminade to this denouement should be dated precisely August 15 (1840). It was from Clouzet, the superior at Saint‐ Remy and Father Chaminade’s “representative” in the northeast. With his letter Clouzet enclosed one from Archbishop Mathieu explaining why Toussaint had fled Ecole and “taken refuge” in the novitiate at Courtefontaine. Toussaint had been faced with his calumnies by the superior of the missionaries, as well as with a number of other accusations. Frightened, embarrassed, unmasked, he had taken flight. Clouzet urged Father Chaminade to send Bousquet to Ecole immediately to salvage what he could of the situation.

From Courtefontaine, Toussaint wrote to Father Chaminade protesting his innocence. Despite Clouzet’s news, Father Chaminade was inclined to believe Toussaint, and he cautioned Clouzet against precipitous action. After all, until then the man’s life had

35 been beyond reproach, and Toussaint had even claimed that the archbishop personally had authorized him to receive Communion every day. Given Toussaint’s previous record, Father Chaminade wrote, “I still find it difficult to believe all you are telling me.” The first thing to do was to face Toussaint and try to find out from him what truth there was in the reports being circulated. “A person,” he reminded Clouzet, “should not be judged without having had the opportunity to explain and defend himself.”

A week later, a second letter from Clouzet: Toussaint had arrived at Saint‐Remy. In hot pursuit were two pastors from Besançon. They accused him of having “borrowed monies” from them and from several pious women under false pretenses, and then having skipped town without paying off the loans. Gradually other misconduct surfaced. Besides “borrowings” of over 4,000 francs (a teacher’s annual salary was about 300 francs) from various people at Besançon and Ecole, Toussaint had embezzled unknown amounts from various accounts at the orphanage to support his “prodigalities.” Claiming authorization from the archbishop, he had solicited funds for refugee Spanish priests and other worthy causes. His fundraising efforts had indeed been successful, but it was discovered that neither the refugees nor the worthy causes ever saw a franc of it.

Creditors continued to come forward, making claims against the community of brothers and the Society of Mary. At first, Father Chaminade tried to explain that the community had never authorized these transactions and could not be held liable. Yet public opinion was not easily convinced of legal niceties: people—clergy, laity, widows, even the poorest—had been defrauded. The archbishop urged Father Chaminade to assume the liabilities lest the Society lose all credibility and trust in the public eye.

Meanwhile Father Chaminade had asked Chevaux, at Saint‐Remy, to send whatever information he had about Toussaint before his entrance into the Society. He sent Clouzet to Ecole to investigate the matter firsthand. Both Clouzet and Fidon visited Besançon to interview the cleric‐accusers. In early September Chevaux wrote that Toussaint had left Saint‐Remy, saying he was “returning to his home.” In fact, however, he had returned to Besançon to continue his operations, and then went on to Paris— whether to repent or to solicit funds was not clear.

By late September Father Chaminade felt he had been fully informed and could make some decisions. The information from Chevaux, from Clouzet, from Bousquet was more than sufficient evidence of the “culpability of this poor man.” He would have to be dismissed, for “It is not possible to continue to admit among us a person who for such a long time, more than three years, could have gone to Communion every day while trampling underfoot his vow of poverty and the most sacred obligations of the religious

36 life.” Father Chaminade informed Bousquet that the Society would guarantee the “loans.”

In mid‐October Toussaint was back in Besançon, assuring his creditors that the Society of Mary would pay, referring them to Fidon, and meanwhile soliciting funds to pay for a trip to Bordeaux! He did, in fact, arrive in Bordeaux in November. Claiming illness and fatigue from the journey, he asked and received hospitality from the Sisters at Saint‐André hospital. He met with Father Chaminade, assuring him of his good faith and repentance. He provided a list of his creditors, adding that he had also spent much money on his family and his own “needs” and owed money to a number of merchants who had not yet come forward. Because he was expecting a 10,000 franc settlement from the family estate, he would, he assured Father Chaminade, repay everything to the Society.

At that very moment, Toussaint was defrauding the Sisters at Saint‐André! He even conned a poor workman who earned a mere five francs a month. The man advanced Toussaint 80 francs (almost a year and half of income) so he could return home to claim an inheritance of 10,000 from a recently‐deceased uncle. Neithere th Sisters nor the worker would ever see him again.

Father Chaminade sent Toussaint to his home in the Vendée to collect the inheritance. He was to report to the pastor; he was not to identify himself as a religious; he was to place himself under the pastor’s strict supervision. Father Chaminade wrote to the latter at length, explaining the background leading to this decision. “Our meeting,” he wrote, “was very long and serious. He seemed to be very frank and forthcoming. But can we trust the protestations of a man who for so long has toyed with God and with holy matters, as well as with the trust of others?”

The answer was clearly, “No!” At that very moment, Toussaint was writing to the pastor. He identified himself as “Brother Gabriel of the Society of Mary” and announced he would be coming to his home parish to raise funds to scover hi trip to America, to which his superiors had assigned him. In December, he wrote to Father Chaminade that he was home, living with his aunt. “Of all the families which compose this world,” he asserted, “there is none dearer to my heart than the Society of Mary.” What conditions must he fulfill in order to be re‐admitted? He would be content with the lowest place. His aunt, he says, refused to give him his share of the inheritance unless he married her. If only he had the means to come to Bordeaux! Would Father Chaminade please advise him as to what he should do?

37 For three weeks in May, 1841, Toussaint was “on retreat” in the Trappist Monastery of Bellefontaine. At first he gave the impression of a true conversion. But a month later the superior of the Monastery wrote to Father Chaminade that the man was beyond recall, embarked as he was on a life of lies and on the way to perdition. It was hard to believe that a man so long engaged in the religious life could toy so unworthily with the truth. “May God give you, in your religious family which is so dear to the Church, as much satisfaction as one unworthy member has caused you grief.”

38 Chapter Eight Return of the Exiles9

It was May 6, 1801, at Saint‐Laurent. Louis Arnaud Lafargue and a companion, Guillaume Joseph Darbignac, were embarking on a retreat under the direction of Father Chaminade. None of the three could have anticipated the eventual results of this retreat, during which the two sodalists hoped to discern the future direction of their lives.

Lafargue was born in Bordeaux on August 23, 1771. The son of a cabinet maker, he had enrolled as a student in one of the ten schools then staffed by the Christian Brothers in that city. After seven years with them, he successfully entered the business world. However, France, beset by turmoil within and by enemies without, conscripted into military service the majority of its young men. Drafted on September 29, 1793, into the Army of the Western Pyrenees, he saw action in the battles against Spain. His superior officers commended him for serving “with the dedication and professional characteristic of a good republican and a true defender of the homeland.”

Darbignac, a year or so younger than Lafargue, also saw action on the Spanish front, and after the battle of Tolosa in 1794 was left on the battlefield for dead; he had suffered seven saber cuts to the head and several bullet wounds. He recovered, he himself claimed, through the protection of Mary whose scapular he was wearing.

When both young men were dismissed from the service they returned to Bordeaux; where they met Father Chaminade, probably in 1795. Darbignac, a factory worker and a handsome young man, assisted Father Chaminade in some of his underground ministry, helped other non‐juring priests, and even sang the Epistle and the Holy Week Passion as though a deacon. Lafargue returned to his business pursuits. He is described as peaceful, polite and charming, as well as successful.

In 1797 Father Chaminade was forced to go into exile in Spain. He delegated Lafargue to continue the process of seeking to have his name removed from the faulty list of émigrés which had led to his exile. However, in September of the following year the Directory ordered the conscription of all “suspect” young men, and Lafargue was drafted for service in the Army of Italy. His protest of innocence of any anti‐ government activity was supported by 38 witnesses. He was nonetheless conscripted and saw service in the Italian campaign, where he was wounded. On March 5, 1800, he returned to France and was officially discharged September 26.

9 See Apôtre de Marie, vol. 35, pp. 105-124, 244-245; index to J. Simler, William Joseph Chaminade; Chaminade letters nos. 30c; 30d; 42, 43.

During those several months, Lafargue renewed his efforts to have Father Chaminade’s name removed from among the émigrés. His first petition, addressed to the Prefect of the Gironde shortly after his return to France in March, was refused as having been submitted after the Dec. 25, 1799, deadline (which happened to be precisely when Lafargue was being wounded in the defense of the homeland). His second, addressed directly to Fouché, the Minister of Police, was approved but became unnecessary when on October 20 Napoleon granted a general decree of amnesty allowing priests to return to France.

Less than two months later, Lafargue and Darbignac, both now in their early thirties, and ten others formed the nucleus of a new Sodality of the Immaculate Conception. Lafargue became the first prefect in February, 1801. Darbignac was assistant prefect for the terms of February and June, and prefect in September. In May they were making their discernment retreat and decided that they wished to live the religious life. Father Chaminade obtained for them a copy of the Rule of the Brothers of the Christian Schools of Jean‐Baptiste de la Salle. Lafargue copied it in his own hand, and they began their novitiate.

In addition to Lafargue’s experience as a youngster, at least two other influences might have inclined them to that particular institute: a former Christian Brother, Antoine Peyras (Bro. Louis de Jesus), lived at Talence, a suburb of Bordeaux, and loaned books to the sodalists; and the former cook among the Brothers, Etienne Melchiou (born 1758), expelled by the Revolution, was a servant of Father Chaminade at Saint‐Laurent (and was involved in the “much ado about nothing” incident of Father Chaminade’s “theft” of statues—see chap. 1, above).

In November of 1801, Lafargue quit his business and the following January 2 opened a small school at Rue des Etuves. He was soon joined there by Darbignac. They were supported and encouraged not only by Father Chaminade, but also by Archbishop d’Aviau, who was greatly concerned about the miserable plight of the young children of his diocese. Shortly thereafter, a small community of former Christian Brothers assembled around Brother Bernardine in Toulouse. Lafargue and Darbignac visited there, were well received, and returned to Bordeaux even more convinced of their own vocations.

Meanwhile, Pius VII had named Brother Frumence as vicar general of the Institute with a special mission to reestablish it in France. In 1804, Frumence settled in Lyons under the auspices of Cardinal Fesch, the uncle of Napoleon. The effort was approved by the emperor, and Father Chaminade contacted Frumence asking for a former religious to be

40 sent to Bordeaux, where two excellent candidates were waiting. Frumence was cool to the idea at first. When Father Rauzan, founder of the Missionaries of France, went from Bordeaux to Lyons to preach the Lenten series, he was commissioned by Archbishop d’Aviau (seconded by Father Chaminade) to press the case. Frumence relented, and in 1806 Brother Seraphin and Brother Alexandre arrived in Bordeaux dressed in their traditional garb.

Having completed their novitiate and probation under Father Chaminade, Lafargue and Darbinac received the habit and took religious names: Lafargue as Brother Elias, and Darbignac as Brother Paulin. Father Chaminade was named ecclesiastical superior and spiritual director, and Seraphin, the director of the community. The City Council suppressed eight of its 12 public primary schools in order to obtain funds for the brothers to open four free schools in former Christian Brother locations. In 1807, Lafargue and Darbignac were admitted to the profession of vows, and a novitiate, the first for the brothers in France since the Revolution, was opened at Saint‐Laurent with Paulin as novicemaster.

Despite some differences between Father Chaminade and Archbishop d’Aviau on one side and Frumence and his successor on the other, the Institute flourished. In 1811, Saint‐Laurent proving too small, the novitiate was moved to Toulouse. Paulin continued as novicemaster and died May 6, 1813, to be succeeded in that post by another Bordeaux sodalist, Antoine Cère. Elias was successively superior of communities in Bordeaux, Auch, and Montpellier. He was elected Assistant to the Superior General at the General Chapter of Lyons in 1816 and died in 1847.

41 Chapter Nine A Life of Many Colors10

Underground Christian, rabid monarchist, anti‐revolutionary—devout Catholic, devoted Papist, dedicate sodalist—professor of philosophy, teacher, disguised tutor— conspirator, political prisoner, escapee—recruiter and self‐proclaimed general of a nonexistent Allied Military Command—intriguer, international provocateur, thorn in Napoleon’s side—alleged Freemason, honorary canon of the Cathedral of Bordeaux, recipient of various honors from the Bourbons and from the Pope, Knight of the Golden Spur, Roman Count, Cavalier of the French Legion of Honor—ordained priest at the age of 63, noted preacher, ecumenist, pastor in his hometown—all this he was, and much more. Who was this man of so many facets, so many colors, so many lives, even, one might be tempted to add, of so many “lies”?

Born in 1765, baptized January 15 of that year as “Jean,” he later added the names of Baptiste and Hyacinthe. It is as Hyacinthe Lafon that he is best known to those acquainted with early Marianist history. Elected three times as prefect of the Sodality of the Madeleine, it was he who, having met the Baroness de Trenquelléon at Figeac, first brought Father Chaminade and Adèle to each other’s attention. And it was he who brought the full fury of the emperor to bear on the Sodality, leading to its suppression from 1809 to 1814. No small player in those early scenes of Marianist events; no small player either, it would seem, on the larger stage of Napoleonic history.

There are, in fact, French historians who believe that the famous affaire Malet should more properly be called the affaire Lafon . Claude François de Malet, according to the [1993 edition] Encyclopedia Brittanica, was the “French general who conspired against Napoleon and attempted an almost successful coup d’état on Oct. 22‐23, 1812.” This attempt, according to the same Brittanica, “was a major factor in Napoleon’s decision to hasten back to France [from the Russian disaster] ahead of the Grande Armée.” But the moving force behind Malet, the dreamer as well as the organizer of minutest detail, was Lafon. Arrested, Malet was executed within the week (October 29); several others, innocent, shared his fate; Lafon, “the only guilty one” according to Lamartine, escaped to mount yet another effort. But more of that later!

Lafon was born in the small town of Pessac de Gensac on the Dordogne River, in the same departement of southwestern France as Chaminade’s Périgueux and Mussidan. His parents, Michel and Marie (Laprade), were unable even to write their names and at

10 See J. Verrier, Marianist International Review, Oct., 1992; Ency. Brittanica, at Fouché, Malet, Napoleon; MRC Monograph, Aug., 1983; index to J. Simler, William Joseph Chaminade; index to Lafan, Malet in J. Stefanelli, Adèle.

42 their marriage were identified only as household servants of a Madame de Montelon. They had two other children: a boy, Joseph, who lived only 12 days; and a daughter, Marguerite, who married and passed on the family genes, but without the family name.

Five feet one inches tall (or five feet four, depending on which police report is preferred), with auburn hair, blue eyes, short nose, large mouth, round dimpled chin, Lafon impressed those who met him. Years after these events, Lamartine wrote of him, “Walter Scott never described a more picturesque kind of conspirator. He carried on his activity cheerfully, as Mirabeau says. He was young, jovial, and his personality was more that of a comedian than that of a priest. He conspired openly with and against anyone.”

Twenty years before the affaire Malet, during the decade of the Revolution, Lafon was active in the underground church. Although some family tales hold that he was a Freemason during that time, Fr. Joseph Verrier is disinclined to believe them. Because Lafon was a member of the very secretive and radically monarchist Institut philanthropique, this may be what the family story had in mind. What is beyond doubt is that Lafon had met Father Chaminade and that, not quite four years apart in age, they had become good friends early in that decade. When Father Chaminade was busy reconciling juring priests during the “breather” of 1795, he received a personal letter from Lafon (August 10) on behalf of one of those priests, the former Prior of the Franciscan Recollects, Antoine Rondel. From Pessac, Lafon wrote, M. the Prior of Lestrac, my neighbor and my friend, had the misfortune to fall into errors which his heart has always disavowed. Desirous of correcting them by the means prescribed by the Church, to which he has always remained attached, he is addressing himself to you with confidence and submission. And for my part, as much as in me lies, I assure you of the sincerity of his dispositions. I beg you to believe that if ever a priest had to struggle with difficult circumstances, he no doubt is one. Responsible for a mother overcome by age and infirmities, he could not bring himself to abandon her in such great need. But he is now firmly determined to make reparation for his failings. Whatever you command, he will obey you. He has only the barest minimum of subsistence, so I beg you to let him return to his home, where I will hold myself responsible for his conduct. While awaiting the pleasure of hearing from you, I remain your good friend in Christ, Lafon.

When the revolutionary decade drew to its close, Lafon already was a deacon. Where and when he did his studies or was ordained, or by whom, is unknown. Nor is there

43 any indication of why he was not ordained a priest. In their report on the clergy of his diocese to the new archbishop, d’Aviau, in 1802, the vicars general of Bordeaux summarized his life during this period: “conducted himself well during the Revolution; has more than ordinary talents.”

During that period Lafon had lived in Bordeaux, exercising the function of tutor in a number of families. He was 35 years old when Father Chaminade, then 39, returned from Spain, and the two friends quickly took up their relationship again. In July of 1801 Lafon was received into the newly‐established Sodality. He was elected prefect in January of 1802; again in February of 1803; and again in July of 1805, at the age of 40.

Something of his personality may be seen in this excerpt from the acceptance speech he addressed to the sodalists after that third election. Depository of your authority and your confidence, what have you not the right to expect of me? To guide you, to direct you, to give you an example of virtue and to make it attractive to you—this is the responsibility you place upon me today. It will be my duty to keep alive in you the tender and affectionate love which we all ought to have toward the Mother of God, since we recognize in her our august patroness. It will also be my duty to preserve good morals among you and to work zealously to support those brothers whom the world and their passions may seek to snatch from Jesus Christ. I must also extend a generous and compassionate hand to all who, not yet knowing the happiness of belonging to the Sodality, are likely to fall into the horrible practices of libertinage and down the awesome precipice of irreligion.

From 1803 onward, Lafon was in correspondence with Alexis de Noailles of the Paris Sodality, making arrangements for Bordeaux sodalists who went to the capital city for studies, work, or visits. De Noailles was a staunch royalist, as well as an exemplary sodalist. In 1807‐1808, Lafon was professor of philosophy at the collège of Figeac, some 200 or so miles east of Bordeaux. Wherever he went, he actively initiated or encouraged sodality groups. During the 18 months he was at Figeac, for example, he recruited almost all his colleagues into a sodality. There he met the Baroness de Trenquelléon and told her about Father Chaminade’s work in the port city, a work, he said, very similar to what Adèle’s Association was doing.

From Figeac he made a trip to the western regions of France in Brittany. There, as elsewhere, he was actively involved with sodalities. However, as he himself later said, he was also actively engaged “at Rennes and in the entire province, in forming

44 associations dedicated to spreading the royalist spirit.” De Noailles later wrote to him, “Here we know in detail that your trip was very helpful for our business.” Returning to Bordeaux in the spring of 1809, he stopped in Paris to see de Noailles and other members of the Paris Sodality. At that time, they further discussed “our business”—a concerted attempt to frustrate the orders of their emperor.

For, in the interim, Napoleon’s troops had invaded the Papal States (1807) and occupied Rome (1808). When Pope Pius VII refused to modify his position of neutrality between France and England, the emperor (1809) decreed the annexation of the Papal States as part of the Empire. In response, the pope issued a Bull, Qum memoranda, excommunicating all those involved in violating the “patrimony of Saint Peter,” although he did not single out even Napoleon by name. Napoleon retaliated by taken the pontiff captive, imprisoning or dispersing the College of Cardinals, and then holding the pope at Fontainbleau, near Paris, until 1814.

Napoleon forbade the introduction of the text of the Bull into French territories, but underground printers and porters worked hard to circumvent his orders. Many of them belonged to the Sodality of Paris. Alexis de Noailles was one such, and when Lafon returned from Paris to Bordeaux in 1809, he brought along a copy of the Bull for dissemination there. The emperor pretended disdain for these efforts of what he called “a conspiracy of altar boys,” but he took the whole affair very seriously and had suspected people carefully watched.

Fouché, Napoleon’s every‐resilient Chief of Police (he managed to serve every government from 1792 to 1815!), ordered his men to intensify their efforts to prevent circulation of such documents, and on September 10 (1809), de Noailles was arrested at his home in Paris. Among his papers were letters from Lafon, thinly disguising their subject: publication and dissemination of the papal Bull. On September 19, Lafon, then living as a tutor with the Mareilhac family in Bordeaux, was likewise arrested (after a vain attempt to rid himself of incriminating evidence). When Father Chaminade, not tye knowing the cause of his arrest, went to the prison in answer to Lafon’s request for a confessor, he himself came under direct suspicion. He was interrogated, his papers were sequestered, and eventually the Sodality was suppressed by direct order of an irate and impatient Napoleon.

A few days after his arrest, Lafon was transferred to Paris. There he and de Noailles and several of their friends were subjected to lengthy, minute, and persistent interrogations as the police sought to unravel the widespread conspiracy Fouché was sure he had discovered. The two of them were finally held on the admitted charge of having contributed to the dissemination of the papal Bull. By contemporary French law, they

45 should have been brought to trial within ten days. But Napoleon’s police were above the law, and Lafon would spend the next three years in prison.

A number of efforts were made to secure his release, but without success. Lafon himself wrote to various authorities protesting the treatment accorded him. In December of 1809, he addressed a long and pleading letter to the official who had first interrogated him on his arrival in the capital. Pierre‐Hugues Veyrat was one of the most influential inspectors of the department. Although himself a former prisoner and counterfeiter, he was a close friend of Constant, Napoleon’s valet de chambre. In the letter Lafon protests his innocence, reviews and refutes the various charges that have been brought against him, and assures the inspector that the authorities of Bordeaux and Figeac would certainly vouch for him. He presents his pitiable condition, hoping to soften the inspector’s heart. Convinced of my own innocence and of the purity of my behavior, I thought, on being brought to Paris, that I would simply give suitable explanations to the proper authorities and would then be able to enjoy the right which the most rigorous justice cannot deny an upright citizen—the right of freedom. Yet here I am, detained, without knowing when I might be released. I have been torn away from my family, my friends, conducted under armed guard as though I were a criminal, obliged [moreover] to pay them and to buy their food. I am not a man of means. To cover these expenses, I have had to borrow from my friends the sum of a hundred louis, a loan which my present condition makes it impossible to repay. Moreover, the longer I am detained here the greater the risk of losing the position which provided my livelihood as well as the means of helping my family, so devastated by the aftermath of the Revolution. If only I had been returned to the prisons of Bordeaux or placed under house arrest there, I could have found the means and the consolations which I cannot find here, where I have neither friends nor family.

The letter received no answer.

Six months after the arrest, on the occasion of Napoleon’s marriage to Maria‐Luisa of Austria, Fouché proposed the release of all those implicated in the affair of the papal Bull. Napoleon reviewed the list personally and crossed out Lafon’s name. Indeed, in the subsequent decree he explicitly named Lafon as one to be held in prison until further orders. The fact that Lafon was identified as a priest (though he was not) may have contributed to the Emperor’s intransigence. De Noailles, whose brother Alfred was well thought of at Napoleon’s court, was released from prison. Although placed

46 under house arrest, he escaped to Switzerland, from which he traveled to the capitals of Europe preaching a crusade against Napoleon, “the anti‐Christ.”

Poor Lafon, a “priest” with no such connections in the right high places, remained where he was in Paris. Even Dubois, Prefect of Police in Paris, could recognize injustice when it was so flagrant. Appealing in Lafon’s behalf, on May 22 (1810) he wrote that “the proposal to release M. Lafon finds its chief reason in the fact that M. de Noailles, the chief culprit in this affair, has been set at liberty. It seems only just that [Lafon] should enjoy the same favor.” But to no avail.

A month later Dubois renewed his efforts in behalf of Lafon, who had proposed he be put under some form of house arrest at least 40 leagues from Paris. On June 30 (1810) at a meeting of his Privy Council at Saint‐Cloud, Napoleon reviewed the request. “Refused!”

Meanwhile, thanks to the efforts of Alexis de Noailles, Lafon had been transferred from the La Force prison to a rest home in Paris run by a Doctor Dubuisson. While this home was a minimum‐security operation and life was considerably more pleasant than at La Force, the inmates were still prisoners—and, in addition, had to pay their own room and board! Lafon continued to protest his innocence and to seek justice.

In June, Fouché had been replaced by Savary, the Duke of Robigo. On December 8 Lafon addressed himself to the new Chief of Police. Monsieur, I have been imprisoned now for 14 months. According to M. Jolivet, Councilor of State [and High Commissioner of Prisons], the reason for such a long detention is that I received some papal documents and that I was head of a religious association established at Bordeaux. As to those papal documents, many Catholics, and even Jews and Protestants, received them even before I did. And I never used them to any evil purpose. In this regard, you can check with the local authorities in Bordeaux. Moreover, such behavior cannot have been in any way reprehensible because the person who sent them to me, as well as others who were arrested at the same time, was set at liberty nine months ago. Moreover, at the time of my arrest I was not at all head of the religious association in Bordeaux, as is clear from the report of M. Jolivet himself.

Lafon’s case was reviewed by the Emperor’s Privy Council on December 17, on March 7, and on July 10, 1811, and again on May 3, 1812. Each time the decision was negative.

47 The report of March 7 had held out some hope: “It seems that M. Lafon has profited by his imprisonment to improve his intelligence and to modify his religious opinions. If he continues this progress, there should be no danger in releasing him.” The decision was: another year of detention!

In March of 1812 Lafon requested a transfer to another rest home where he could live more economically. This too was refused, although it seems he was now given the daily pittance (40 sous) the law allowed political prisoners for personal expenses.

In early June came a turning point in Lafon’s career. After 18 months of house arrest, General Claude‐François Malet was transferred to Dr. Dubuisson’s establishment. Malet, a nobleman, had served with the King’s Musketeers during the ancien régime. He enthusiastically supported the Revolution, although he was disinherited for doing so. He joined the Revolutionary Army in 1791,w sa eight years of service on the Rhine and in the Swiss Alps, and was promoted to Brigadier‐General. Although he was not in sympathy with Napoleon’s dream of empire, he continued in military service until 1808, when he was dismissed for dealing in the black market. In July of 1810, suspected of belonging to an anti‐Bonapartist secret society, he was placed under house arrest.

Lafon, radical royalist, and Malet, dedicated republican, had very little in common— except their deep resentment toward his Imperial Majesty. It was enough to draw them together into what was almost a successful coup against the most powerful political figure of that day.

It seems Malet had been thinking of some sort of coup for the past four years. He hoped to find the necessary support among the many disgruntled military men whom he knew, and perhaps among the many royalist‐exiles populating the European capitals. Lafon turned out to have just what Malet needed: an active imagination, many local contacts, relationships with the royalists. Together they hatched their plot: the affaire Malet, historians were to call it.

Napoleon was in Russia, fighting the winter more than the enemy. At best, communications were slow; it would be easy enough to cause confusion at home. The plan was to announce suddenly that Napoleon had died on the Russian front. The conspirators would proclaim a “provisional governing council” and, benefiting from the surprise and the confusion, would assume power. Confident that the effort would be supported by the retired and disgruntle military, and by the royalist forces inside and outside France, the “Council” would be in complete control before Napoleon would even have heard of the coup!

48 While the main idea behind the plan seems to have originated with Malet, Lafon’s contributions were far from negligible; through his friend, the priest Caamano, the preparations were carried out unknown to the police. Malet’s “aide‐de‐camp” was Lafon’s friend from Bordeaux and former companion‐at‐arms, a certain Corporal Rateau. Malet, as “General Lamotte,” named as new Chief of Police a certain Boutreux, another friend of Lafon whom he had met at Rennes. And the “official” documents used to gain entry into the government offices were sealed with . . . Lafon’s personal seal. It should be noted, however, that Lafon played the game quite safely—he undertook no dangerous role in the attempted coup; he waited cautiously to see what would happen; he had prepared a hiding place outside Paris; and when forced to flee with Malet, he pretended to sprain his ankle and disappeared from the scene! It would almost seem he was the behind‐the‐scenes director of the drama, rather than a participant in it.

The attempt was carried out the night of October 22‐23, 1812. “General Lamotte” went to the military barracks in Paris, proclaimed that Napoleon had been killed in Russia and that he had been appointed Commander in Paris by a “provisional government.” At first he was believed. He freed two pro‐republican generals from prison and shot the Governor of Paris. But after the first flurry of surprise and disorientation, military and political officers loyal to Napoleon put down the attempt in eth name of the Emperor— whether dead or alive. Malet, several of the co‐conspirators and some non‐conspirator suspects, were arrested. They were executed within the week. In the confusion of that night, Lafon made good his escape.

The hunt was on for him, “a price on my head.” The police scoured Bordeaux and Libourne, chasing down one rumor after another. Meanwhile, Lafon was in hiding in Bourgogne at the Chateau Sauvigny. He remained there three weeks, leaving “without even thanking his host”! From there he made his way into Switzerland, preaching missions (he was a deacon) in the Jura, directing a collège, and propagandizing the cause of the Bourbons.

In a letter written a year and a half after the affaire Malet to the secretary of Archbishop d’Aviau of Bordeaux, Lafon himself summarizes this period of his life. As for me, I have the consolation of having worked for the throne and the altar with some success. During the time that there was a price on my head in Paris, I was giving missions in the Jura. I preached twice a day and was rewarded for my labors. Through my writings I prevented several dioceses from accepting bishops who had not received canonical institution; similarly for the diocese of Troyes. I was director of a collège and was professor of philosophy there. I prepared the

49 way for enemy troops to enter our country by writings which defended the legitimate claims of the Bourbons to the throne of France. These writings were spread widely along the frontier, and the royal family was very satisfied with them.

In the same letter (written May 20, 1814, a month after Napoleon’s abdication and the restoration of the monarchy), Lafon indicates his intent to proceed at long last on the road to priestly ordination. He tells the diocesan secretary, Until now I was held back by the thought that I would have had to harness myself to the chariot of ar usurpe and cooperate in solidifying his tyranny. [Apparently Napoleon had offered him a bishopric, a mansion, and 300,000 francs for his support!] Now that we live under a legitimate king, we must all help him solidify his positions. We shall do this only by disillusioning the people, destroying the errors which for so long have misled them, and above all, by being ourselves the first to preach good example and virtuous living and by our attachment to the faith.

As for his own vocation, he points out, “Five years of prison and a year of exile have given me more than enough time to reflect on it.” He concludes by asking the secretary to hasten the process of granting the dimissorial letters he had already asked of the archbishop.

What Lafon does not say in this letter but what is clear from a letter of the French ambassador at the Holy See to Archbishop d’Aviau (October 7, 1814) is that Lafon has his eye somewhat beyond the priesthood. He was, in fact, negotiating with several cardinals to be named Bishop of Ile de Bourbon. The ambassador, de Sambucy, indicates that he is in agreement with the archbishop’s position that Lafon should report to the diocesan seminary, and there his vocation would be judged. Until then, dimissorial letters would not be given.

Understandably, Lafon was upset by the archbishop’s hesitation, especially because d’Aviau himself had at one time urged him to accept ordination. In a long letter to a priest friend in Bordeaux, Lafon bewails his fate. He would not, he says, object to going to the seminary for two or three months to prepare himself; he had, in fact, planned to do just that. But to go the seminary to have his vocation “tested” by the Sulpician superior—that he could not accept. Let the archbishop give him dimissorials or an exeat, from his jurisdiction; if neither, then he, Lafon, would see that as the will of God for himself, and “I will direct my steps to other paths where I might indirectly be of some usefulness to religion.”

In February of 1815, with the backing of the superior of the seminary of Versailles, Lafon again addressed his request to Archbishop d’Aviau. “I have the honor of telling you frankly that I have only one desire: to dedicate myself completely to the good of the Church and to serve it according to my feeble talents. . . . You are master of my fate. Grant me dimissorials or an exeat as your wisdom may dictate.” Two weeks later Napoleon, having escaped from Elba, landed on the continent and marched to Paris. The “Hundred Days” had begun, and Lafon was again a fugitive.

At La Chaux‐de‐fonds on the French‐Swiss border, with a certain Lemaire as his partner, Lafon resumed his royalist activities. He was now “Commissioner of the King” and produced a profusion of declarations, proclamations, leaflets, and releases in support of the royal cause. His activities were highly praised by Talleyrand, the French minister to Switzerland: “Lafon and Lemare are well regarded by the republicans and, speaking in the name of the king, have more influence over those people than would a Montmorency. The proof for me is the marvelous effects produced by their writings and releases, which they date now from one town, now from another.”

One of Lafon’s favorite “news releases” was to report the movements of a mythical army massing to invade France. “In the northeast [of France] immense armies of Russians, Bavarians, Wurtemburgers, Austrians, Hessians, etc., are massing, from Bâle to Mayence, offering their support to courageous inhabitants of the Doubs and the Jura and by their sheer size inviting a change of heart in Alsace and Lorraine.” An imposing army of royalists, he claimed, had gathered around him, and he called on all loyal royalists to join.

One of those who came to join was the writer de Lamartine. La Chaux‐de‐Fonds, he later wrote in his Mémoirs, was a rather poor Swiss village, peopled by peasant watchmakers. He found there no signs of military activity, no installations, no army. Having made inquiries at the local café, he was guided by a servant girl to the only hotel in the village. The girl presented him to the hotel‐keeper with these words: “This gentleman is looking for the French army. At the café they told him that the ‘army’ was here, and that it is called M. Lafon.”

And that, de Lamartine says, is all he found: “a French priest named Lafon,” who received him graciously and explained that “L’armée, c’est moi.” [Shades of Louis XIV: “L’état, c’est moi”!] As long as people believe the army exists, Lafon explained, it makes little difference that it does not. “Without money, without supplies, without soldiers, I have held in check an entire province, and I have paralyzed Besançon and Belfort.”

51 After Waterloo and the second Restoration, Lafon was not forgotten by the king or his entourage. His work in Switzerland was again greatly praised by Talleyrand. Toward the end of 1815, he was name Chevalier of the Legion of Honor and given a position at the royal court. It seems, although the documentation is sketchy, that he was sent on various royal missions within France and to England. In January of 1820 he was made Count by Pius VII, and two months later named Chevalier of the Golden Spur by pontifical Brief. Two years later we find him active in the Sodality of Paris. At the age of 63, he was ordained, finally, in 1828 at Agen by Father Chaminade’s good friend, Bishop Jacoupy, with dimissorials from de Cheverus, Archbishop of Bordeaux. Like Father Chaminade, he was named honorary canon of the cathedral of Bordeaux. Assigned pastor in his hometown, he devoted his energy to preaching in various parishes and renewed his ties to the Sodality of the Madeleine. In 1834 he was asked to contribute to the renovation of the Chapel of the Madeleine. He was buried in his hometown on August 17, 1836.

52 Chapter Ten A Different View11

For most Marianists, the name Fr. Narcisse Roussel conjures up an image of a deceitful, double‐dealing, unscrupulous, and immoral person whose manipulations of the General Administration Council, of the French hierarchy, of the religious of the Society of Mary, and even of the Holy See, contributed so much to the agony of Father Chaminade’s painful last years. He is the arch‐villain of the drama, the power‐hungry author of an odious intrigue to remove the Founder from his office and to substitute himself in his place. He is the author of the devastating “Confidential Memorandum” which turned the bishops against the Founder and tricked the Sacred Congregation into declaring the generalate vacant.

Disowned by his “own creature,” the General Chapter of 1845, he left the Society in disgrace, confessed his crimes, and fled to America to begin a new and more edifying life. He served at Holy Cross parish in Santa Cruz and is buried in the mission cemetery of San Luis Obispo in California.

This negative image is certainly founded on fact and truly deserved. However, this same Roussel was a highly gifted individual in whom Chaminade at first placed great confidence and who, he hoped, would one day become a truly dedicated member of the Society. Narcisse was one of the three Roussel brothers who entered the Society; none of them persevered in it. Born in 1813, he joined the Society in 1835, was admitted to perpetual vows in 1837, and was ordained in December of 1838. He served as Chaminade’s personal secretary from July to September of that same year, and again from June of 1839 to January of 1844.

Although Father Chaminade generally dictated his letters to his secretaries, there were two exceptions: Bro. David Monier and Father Roussel. These two he trusted to draft the texts of his letters based on his written memos or his conversations; all Father Chaminade had to do was reread and sign them. Roussel, Father Chaminade wrote, “is most intelligent; he writes with ease and quickly whatever he is told and according to what he is told.”

He was Father Chaminade’s secretary for the exchange of correspondence relative to the submitting to Rome of the Constitutions of the Daughters of Mary and of the Society of Mary in 1839. An interesting sidelight in that correspondence is Roussel’s intense

11 See Chaminade letters nos. 1161, 1163, 1190, 1202, 1225; index of V. Vasey, Last Years; J.B. Armbruster, L’état religieux Marianiste, pp. 281-283; J. Stefanelli, Adè, p. 479; J. Verrier, Positio de Lamourous, pp. 672-673, 710- 713.

53 interest in obtaining relics of the saints from the contacts Father Chaminade had in Rome. In fact, in a letter Roussel himself was writing, Father Chaminade warned his correspondent (the Canon Valentini) to be on guard against this overzealous relic‐ seeker. I must caution you that on this point his ambition is unbounded, and you must be on your guard against his demands. I fear that he may in truth take advantage of your goodness, for what he tells me he wants of you is considerable: relics of the True Cross, and of the nails, and of the crown of thorns of our Savior Jesus Christ, relics of the apostles and of several saints whose names he has already given you; even now, he would like to know whether he might have some of Saint Liguori and of Saint Philomena.

It was Roussel who drafted, in keeping with the rules of classical French rhetoric, the text of the famous Letter to the Retreat Masters of August 24, 1839. In this letter we find for the first time an expression we associate so well with Chaminade’s thought: “Missionaries of Mary.” The same expression is found in two other letters, both from 1840 and both written by Roussel. The credit for coining the phrase belongs to him.

It was also Roussel who, barely four years after the death of Mlle de Lamourous, was involved in the first attempts to have her cause for canonization introduced. A certain John Rosatini, a priest and lawyer with the Sacred Congregation of Rites, was in Bordeaux in the autumn of 1840 to deal with a number of formalities for the cause of Jeanne de Lestronnac. (Father Chaminade himself was one of the witnesses at her proceedings.) While in the city, Rosatini heard such praise of Marie‐Thérèse de Lamourous that he was greatly impressed.

Meeting with Roussel on two separate occasions, Rosatini returned to the subject of Mlle de Lamourous, while expressing astonishment that the French should be so slow in pursuing the canonization of those who died with an established reputation for sanctity. He even pressed Roussel himself to more ahead on the project, although the latter begged off, explaining “the lowly rank which I hold among the clergy of Bordeaux.” However, Roussel did offer to take him to the Miséricorde to see for himself the work of the “Saint of Bordeaux.” Pressed also by Father Chaminade to make the visit, Rosatini accepted the invitation with alacrity.

With Roussel and another priest (an Italian residing in Bordeaux), Rosatini visited the site of Mlle de Lamourous’ work. Rosatini spoke with the penitents and with the religious and asked for more information about their Founder. He enthusiastically declared that in his opinion the cause should be introduced without delay. He assured

54 them that, in the privacy of “the family of the Miséricorde,” Mlle de Lamourous could certainly be prayed to, as well as for. So impressed was he that before leaving Bordeaux, he returned to celebrate Mass at the convent.

He promised to do all he could to further the introduction of the cause and later, from Paris, repeated his intent in letters to Roussel. The latter served as the intermediary between Rosatini and the superior of the Miséricorde (Mlle de Lamourous’ niece, Laure) as plans and projects were examined. Money would first have to be raised to cover costs; investigations would have to be held; documents would have to be assembled.

So taken was Rosatini with the work and obvious holiness of Mlle de Lamourous that he even offered to send from Rome to Bordeaux a young Doctor of Civil and Canon Law to conduct the preliminary investigations and collect the necessary documentation. On his own return to Rome, he presented to Lambruschini, the Cardinal Secretary of State, a lithograph of the Foundress and a letter from Father Chaminade.

Two years later Rosatini returned to press the matter again. However, the new Archbishop of Bordeaux, Donnet, apparently did not believe the time opportune to pursue the matter further. The canonization of saints was not high on his agenda. By that time Roussel, too, had other priorities.

55 Part II Two‐hundredth Anniversary

Chapter Eleven January 1797

This month, Father Chaminade was for the second time during the Revolution exercising his ministry in secret, proscribed and persecuted because he had refused to take the oath required by the 1792 Civil Constitution of the Clergy. From various hiding places and under various disguises, he continued to work closely with other members of the underground Catholic community and to direct many of them along their personal spiritual pathways.

Among these was Marie‐Thérèse‐Charlotte de Lamourous, one of the pillars of the community who had often risked her life to carry on her mission. She was born at Barsac in 1754, but she had lived in Bordeaux since she was 13 years old. At the outbreak of the Revolution she was 35. She had opted to remain faithful to her Catholic upbringing, loyal to the clergy loyal to Rome, and dedicated to works of charity as she had been before. A government statute in 1794 had decreed that no member of the (former) nobility (the de Lamourous family was noble, but not wealthy) could remain in Paris, in any fortified city, or in a seaport. So in 1797 she was living at Pian, some 12 miles northwest of Bordeaux, with her aging father and two of her sisters.

Political conditions in France changed rapidly and unpredictably in those tumultuous days. From September of 1792 to September of 1793, Father Chaminade had faced the risk of deportation. During the Reign of Terror (or the “Great Terror,” as it is know in French history), from October of 1793 to August of 1794, he had faced the very real possibility of execution.

The Terror had come to an end with the execution of Robespierre in Paris in July of 1794, and of Lacombe on August 14 in Bordeaux. A few months of relative peace followed, during which oratories were opened and priests, jurors and non‐jurors, carried on their ministry unhampered. It was during this period between June and October of 1795 that Father Chaminade had reconciled some 50 or more jurors with the Church, including Father Andrieu, the former pastor of Mlle de Lamourous’ parish at Pian.

But on October 25, the Paris Convention passed a statute stating that “all the laws of 1792 and 1793 against priests subject to deportation or detention shall be carried out

56 within 48 hours of the promulgation of the present statute, and all public functionaries who shall have been convicted of negligence in carrying them out shall be sentenced to two years of imprisonment. All local decrees contrary to this law are null and void.”

Father Chaminade was forced to close his oratory. Faced with the choice of leaving the country or again going underground, he chose the latter. Although the decree against nobility living in the port city had been rescinded, Mlle de Lamourous continued to live in Pian. But she often came to Bordeaux, to help the underground community (she was a trusted agent of the vicar general Boyer, who had remained in Bordeaux through all the turmoil and changes) and to seek news of her spiritual director. He, in turn, visited her in Pian, where she had set up a hidden oratory in the shepherd’s cottage where she was living.

Her previous spiritual directors, aware of her tendency to scrupulosity, her desire to give herself entirely to God (she thought she had a vocation to Carmel), and her impulsiveness, had laid out for her a rule of conduct and certain maxims to guide her. After Father Chaminade met her, probably early in 1795, he continued to guide her along the same path as had his predecessors. Already in 1792, if not earlier, she had offered herself to God as a victim to appease the divine wrath and to draw blessings upon herself and her beloved country. In December of 1796, with Father Chaminade’s approval, she renewed that offering, at 42 years of age. Her manuscript text reads this way: 1. O Justice of my God, be appeased in time, and let your infinite mercy be effective for all eternity. In time, yes, let me be punished for my ingratitude, for my unfaithfulness; in time, let me apparently seek in vain the sweetness of your perfume, which I have so often disdained and to which I have preferred sensual satisfactions and natural consolations! I am willing, O my God, if need be, to spend my life without sensing [the presence of] your grace, in an interior desolation whose bitterness only you can appreciate, in order to expiate my pride, my presumption, my self‐love, and my love of creatures; in time, therefore, humiliations, sufferings, privations, injustice, etc. But in eternity, O my God, may I render you all the glory of which I am capable. In eternity, O my God, may the purity of my homage, of my praise, of my adoration, of my love repay you for the time I have lost in time! In eternity, at last, may I have the happiness of seeing, of knowing, of sensing, and of enjoying my God!

2. I have understood what it is God asks of me. I have taken the resolution to refuse God nothing. He has received my promises. Will it be with these as with

57 so many others? I must take care; some [resolutions] must at last be definitive. May I fear for these, and take all the means needed to put them into practice. May I weigh seriously and in good faith whatever may contribute to my being faithful to them, as well as [weigh carefully] the obstacles which nature, habit, and inconstancy can raise against them. May I seek carefully the weapons necessary for overcoming such obstacles, not neglecting any possible means. I must, once for all, take a clear position. May I hesitate no longer to enter into the [narrow] path; may Iw follo it despite the thorns, despite the carelessness that has so often led me to stop. To encourage myself, to remind me of my promises, have I not rules to follow, penances to perform, to anticipate, etc. . . ? May I settle my accounts, determine clearly [what is to be done]; it may well be for the last time.

3. O my God, I have tried to use all the means needed to carry out what you have inspired in me. If I have not seen clearly what I was to do, I have confidence that the Providence to which I confide myself will help me to execute what my darkness prevents me from seeing. What can I do without you, O limitless goodness! I cast myself into your arms, O most loving Father. I unite myself to my Savior; I wish never to be separated from him. I embrace his cross, I honor it, I love it, I revere it. It is for my sake that he carried it; and it is for him, yes, for him, that I wish to carry it. While I have the greatest need to expiate my own sins, I render to Jesus Christ the value his mercy may choose to give to my sufferings and sacrifices, to the cross with which he judges it proper to burden me. I render back to him this merit that he may apply it and have it be efficacious for others as he may choose. I surrender entirely to him for the benefit of others whatever may be mine. For myself, I entrust myself to his tenderness, to his mercy, and to his divine goodness, as I renew the offering I made to him long ago. I have not been faithful to that offering, but I renew it today all the more seriously for having had four years of experience to show me that there are circumstances which make it difficult to be faithful, and [to show me] that it is easier to make an offering when praying than to make it while suffering. This experience, and the experience of my own weakness and negligence, have served only to reanimate my desire to renew my offering now that I know better its cost. Receive, therefore, O my God, the offering which I make to you of myself and of all that I have. I offer myself to you as a victim; do with me whatever you wish, and use according to your will whatever your graces may allow me to merit. I reserve nothing for myself; I want your greater glory; for myself, I accept whatever you wish to give me.

58 The following month, this January of 1797, she again wrote out her act of oblation, acknowledging what she considered her infidelities and proclaiming her desire to refuse God nothing. It was in this spirit that she continued to live until her death in 1836.

59 Chapter Twelve February 1797

This month, Father Chaminade was continuing his underground ministry to the people of Bordeaux. His immediate superior in the diocese was Fr. Joseph Boyer, vicar general of Archbishop de Cicé, who was in exile in London. Under Boyer’s direction, the underground clergy were well organized despite the difficult circumstances under which they had to operate. Collaborating with them, of course, were a goodly number of lay persons, men and women, and especially former nuns forced from their convents (“liberated,” the revolutionary thinkers would proclaim) by the persecution.

In addition to celebrating the Eucharist in hiding, hearing Confessions, and generally guiding people in the spiritual life, Father Chaminade also exercised the official ministry of conferring Baptism and witnessing Marriages. Several documents attest to this ministry carried out between March of 1796 and September of 1797. Often the place where these sacraments were administered is indicated only in a general way, for example, “in a private home.” Others were undoubtedly administered in his secret oratory. One such document records a marriage ceremony performed February 15, 1797, at the time that Father Chaminade “had an oratory at no. 14, Rue Sainte‐Eulalie,” not far from the parish church of that name and close to the later well‐known sites of the Madeleine and the Miséricorde.

His role in the diocese was more than a personal ministry. He would later be recommended to the new Archbishop d’Aviau as an outstanding member of the local clergy. In Jalons, Joseph Verrier holds it very probable that Father Chaminade exercised some official role of steward/treasurer in the diocese, for there are a number of documents concerning financial transactions attributed to Chaminade which do not seem to have been for his personal affairs. There is also a document dated February 6, 1797, in which Father Chaminade’s name appears with that of two other clerics attesting to the authenticity of a relic of Saint Charles (Borromeo?). One of the clerics is the deacon Pineau, the other a former Carthusian monk. And on February 9, Father Chaminade paid a printer 400 livres for printing 2,000 calendars.

The local government of Bordeaux was not at the moment actively pursuing the underground clergy, and Father Chaminade himself later attested that recourse to a priest approved by the diocese was relatively easy and safe. However, the documents also clearly indicate that a certain caution was still needed in dealing with people who were newcomers or chance acquaintances. Most of the people mentioned as principals or witnesses were well known to the “director of the seminary of Mussidan living in Bordeaux because of the Revolution.”

One of the more important events of this month of February was a retreat preached by Father Chaminade and his protégé, the deacon Pineau. (Pineau would be ordained a priest in a clandestine ceremony near Paris the following April.) A group of ladies prominent in the Catholic underground had called upon the two clerics to give them the spiritual exercises. Father Chaminade’s oratory being too small, or too well known, the retreat was given in a private home. The ladies had agreed that those who could conveniently do so would spend the entire day in the house. In this way they would minimize the comings and goings which might draw unwanted attention from the neighbors or arouse the suspicions of the police.

Among these women were Mlle Marie‐Thérèse de Lamourous, her sister Catherine‐ Anne, Mlle Marie‐Eulalie‐Angélique Fatin, Mlle Marguerite Bédouret, and Mlle Désarneau. It was during this retreat that they laid plans for the future, deciding that when circumstances should again permit it, they would found an institution for the education of young girls, for the care of the sick, and for the conversion of sinners. All would become future founders, but not quite as they had planned. In 1799, Angélique and her sister founded the Reunion of the Sacred Heart for the education of young girls; Marguerite, with Mlle Désarneau, founded an Ursuline convent and a hospital in 1803; and Mlle de Lamourous, of course, founded the Miséricorde for the reform of prostitutes.

At this retreat Marie‐Thérèse again renewed her offering of herself as a victim “for the expiation of the crimes of France and for the salvation of souls.” But it was her younger sister Catherine‐Anne who most claims our attention. She had brought along her second child, four‐month‐old André. In the intervals between the formal exercises of the retreat, she would nurse her baby. Then she would confide him to a servant who paced back and forth in the long hallway of the house—the same hallway in which Father Chaminade and Pineau were also accustomed to walk, either preparing their retreat notes together or praying the Breviary.

Reflecting on the presence of the child, Father Chaminade remarked to Pineau, “You see this baby: he sucks the milk of the retreat; someday he will be a missionary.” Later, unable to put the child out of his mind or his meditation, he asked to speake to th mother. Catherine‐Anne was 31 years old, married since 1793 to René de Maignol. Father Chaminade asked her about André. She told him that she had prayed for a son who would some day become a priest. Over a year ago she had told Marie‐Thérèse that she had asked a son of the Blessed Virgin and had promised to consecrate him to her. Nine months later, on October 7, 1796, the child was born and shortly thereafter invested with the scapular.

Obviously impressed with the story, Father Chaminade suggested to the mother that the child be consecrated to God in a special ceremony. She agreed, delaying only long enough to gain the consent of her husband, who was hiding at the time because his name was still carried incorrectly, as was Father Chaminade’s, on the list of émigrés. The special ceremony was set for the day after the closing of the retreat. All the retreatants returned for the event.

After the celebration of Mass, Father Chaminade called Catherine‐Anne to the altar with her child. He reminded her of the dispositions of Anna of the Old Testament when she had presented Samuel to the Lord. Then, taking the child from his mother, he laid him at full length on the altar. He recited special prayers and blessings, dedicating André to God. The child was very quiet during the entire affair, contenting himself with playing with the priest’s vestments.

Two months later, during the peaceful interim of that spring (1797), Catherine‐Anne was visiting her sisters at Pian. Father Chaminade, too, was there. As he was about to depart, a servant girl came upon the scene with the baby André in her arms. Seeing Father Chaminade, the child cried so incessantly that the priest was obliged to stop his horse and take the baby in his arms. All, Marie‐Thérèse would later write, were very impressed by the scene. The baby, André de Maignol de Mataplane, would one day be ordained a priest for the diocese of Bordeaux, and in 1827, at Marie‐Thérèse’s request, Archbishop de Cheverus (first Bishop of Boston and successor to Archbishop d’Aviau in Bordeaux), would appoint him pastor in residence of the church of Pian.

62 Chapter Thirteen March 1797

This month a fledgling democracy on one side of the Atlantic had concluded its normal electoral process, and John Adams succeeded George Washington as second president of the United States. For the next 200 years that process of peaceful, although sometimes tumultuous, passing on of authority was destined to continue. On the other side of “the pond,” the citizens of another new “democracy” were preparing to vote for yet another change of government. Over the next 200 years, France would experience radical and often bloody “transfers of power.”

The new American president had little use for the Jacobin/Republican tendencies of the French, and relationships between the two countries were strained more than at any other time since the French monarchy had plunged itself into debt in order to support the cause of the colonies in their struggle against the British crown. It has been estimated that the outstanding debts of the French monarchy in 1789 (1.3 billion livres) were approximately equal to the cost of its support of the American Revolution. In addition, of course, France had lost a number of men. (Among the young Frenchmen who volunteered to fight on the American side against the British were Mlle de Lamourous’ sole surviving brother, Arnaud; and Adèle’s paternal uncle, François. Arnaud fought the British on Minorca and Gibraltar; François, age 15, joined the French naval forces in America. Later he captured the Alexander, captained by the famous Admiral Bligh.) But now (1797) the Directory was in power and, to the dismay of Adams and others of his like, had reenacted the oppressive laws of 1792‐93.

In Bordeaux, the local authorities were in no great hurry to further harass the clergy. For example, according to the law of October 25, 1795, “The laws of 1792 and 1793 against priests subject to deportation or detention shall be executed within 24 hours of the promulgation of this present decree.” (Only the removal of the guillotine distinguished this period of terror from the Great Terror.) In fact, some fifteen 24‐hour periods had passed before the city of Bordeaux had decided on where to incarcerate the priests and had sent to the département the names of priests affected by the decree (among them, of course, Chaminade).

The national Ministry of Police was not unaware of the lackluster approach of the Gironde, and especially of Bordeaux, the departmental capital, in applying the legislation. On several occasions it expressed its surprise and had asked for explanations. In one of its replies (Feb. 15, 1796), the city had stated that “if we have not arrested a greater number of recalcitrant priests it is because the measures taken against them were imposed by laws and decrees so highly publicized that they therefore had

63 ample time to anticipate our action by flight or disappearance.” And in April of 1796, it noted simply that of the 72 priests (again including Chaminade) who had surfaced after the Great Terror, all had “disappeared” except for five who were arrested. A few more were arrested during the following months, but the police actively pursued the rest only under pressure from Paris. (Among those arrested, of course, was Andrieu, former pastor at Pian.)

The city fathers further procrastinated, quibbling with the Directory in Paris on the exact meaning of the wording of the law, asking to which financial account should be charged the food for the prisoners, and suggesting that many priests who had come out of hiding in the calm after the Great Terror (as Chaminade had done) and had returned to their families should not be pursued. The local authorities had had enough of religious persecution, and the majority of the people desperately wanted peace.

As we have seen, Father Chaminade had chosen to go into hiding to continue his ministry in the underground Catholic community. According to Verrier, many of the exciting and sometimes seemingly “miraculous” incidents which Simler (and Rousseau and other biographers after him) placed ine th Reign of Terror probably belong more properly to this period. But this does not mean that the risk to Father Chaminade and others was any less; in some ways, it may even have been greater because of the element of unpredictability on the part of the authorities. Under Robespierre and the Great Terror, people knew for certain the risk; now, there was always the danger of letting down their guard.

Although Father Chaminade’s property of Saint‐Laurent has often been considered his principal hiding place during this period, there is considerable doubt on the matter. It seems very probable that he purchased the property originally (1792) simply as a retirement place for his parents. They did, in fact, move there from Périgueux, and his mother died there. His father returned to Périgueux only after 1797, when Father Chaminade went into exile and the property risked being confiscated by the government.

Although Father Chaminade was owner of the property, his father was its “legal resident.” The priest seems to have shown up there only from time to time to oversee the maintenance and use of the property, but he did not live there or stay there for any length of time. He celebrated no marriage there, baptized no child there; it was not the center of his activity. The small cottage on the outskirts of town on the road to Tondu was surrounded by vines, a truck garden, flowers, and trees. It was too far away from the city proper, too easily watched, of too little use for anyone wishing to pass unnoticed. Even later, after religious peace had been reestablished, Father Chaminade

64 never lived there in a permanent way. Now the center of his activity was on the Rue Sainte‐Eulalie, where he was well known and where people could come to see him without attracting too much attention. “A large number of choice souls confided to him their deepest concerns and did so with great confidence,” wrote Father Rigagnon in his unpublished biography of Joseph Bouet.

Bouet, who would reappear several times in Father Chaminade’s story, including as his confessor in those trying “final years,” according to Rigagnon was one of those “choice souls.” Bouet was born in Bordeaux in 1766 and was a tonsured cleric when the Revolution put an end to his studies. He father, an attorney at the Bordeaux Parliament, was guillotined June 17, 1794, for having “petitioned in favor of opening the churches,” for having “been a member of the monarchical faction,” and for having had as his closest friends “well‐known members of the aristocracy.” It was an overwhelming moment for the rest of the family. Bouet’s mother half lost her mind. His brother Peter, who was with the merchant marine, returned shortly thereafter from a voyage to the West Indies. As soon as he learned of their father’s death, he said goodbye to the family and returned to sea; he was never heard from again.

Unable to console his mother over her double loss, Bouet had a fit of madness which caused him great suffering, almost cost him his life, and even led him to believe he was possessed by the devil. Several sessions of exorcism, authorized by the diocesan administrator Boyer, left him in such a state of exhaustion that his friends decided to conduct him discreetly to the shrine of Our Lady of Verdelais (where Father Chaminade himself had gone on pilgrimage as a young boy).

He had to be laid on a mattress on the bottom of the boat and was transported up the Garonne to the famous pilgrimage site. His biographer continues, “It was faith which sustained his courage, and his heart was overflowing with great confidence in Mary, a certain indication of future success. In fact, as soon as the pious pilgrims entered the venerated shrine, a divine grace came upon the soul of the young cleric. Interior illumination banished all his disquietude. His sight became excellent, and his feeble limbs felt an infusion of new life”

Upon his return to Bordeaux, Bouet once again took up his clerical studies. At this time (probably in 1796) he met Father Chaminade and became his close disciple. His signature appears as a witness to one of the marriages Father Chaminade performed underground. Another of Father Chaminade’s “choice souls” was Francis Pineau, a deacon who had helped Father Chaminade preach the retreat attended by Mlle de Lamourous and her sisters [see February 1797, above]. In the spring of 1797, Boyer decided both young men were ready for ordination. In March they went to Paris to

65 continue their preparation. And in April, in clandestine ceremonies authorized by the Bishop of Alès, who was in hiding in Paris, Bouet was ordained to minor Orders, the sub‐deaconate and the deaconate. He remained in the capital for further preparation and was ordained a priest on June 3.

66 Chapter Fourteen April 1797

This month conditions within France were about as peaceful and calm as they had been at any time during the past decade. One indication of this condition was the elections help April 4. One‐third of the legislature was up for election, and the conservative forces won a smashing victory. Of the 248 deputies elected, a mere 16 were clearly leftists, another 17 could be seen as favoring the current Directory in power, and about 45 were “on the fence.” The majority of 170 was definitely on the right, and the bulk were out‐and‐out royalists (although most favored a constitutional monarchy rather than a return to the absolutism of the past). However, it is doubtful that this single factor was reflective of general public opinion, since there were many irregularities in the voting and only a minority of eligible voters (1 million out of 6.5 registered) actually participated. But there was a general atmosphere of domestic tranquility, and many émigrés (including non‐juring clergymen) were quietly returning home (and, in some cases, even voting!).

France’s relationships with the rest of Europe were much more tumultuous as the Nation battled a strong coalition of all the major European powers: Austria, England, Prussia, and the German States. The conflict had spread beyond the continent to the eastern Mediterranean, Turkey, and Egypt. Nor was the United States totally apart from all this. On April 7 a French privateer seized an American merchant on the pretext it might be in the service of England; a French court penalized the vessel. And the United States was hosting a visit from the three sons of Philippe Egalité, a cousin of the executed Louis XVI. Egalité had voted in favor of the death penalty for Louis, but himself later fell victim to the Revolution.

Meanwhile, Napoleon continued to make a name for himself—an inglorious one in Egypt, where he lost the entire French fleet to the English and abandoned most of his army to the desert; a more glorious one on the continent, waging battle in northern Italy, Venice, Austria, and the German States. Although ostensibly at the service of the Directory back home in Paris, Napoleon was operating more and more on his own. Having taken Venice, for example, he proceeded to threaten Vienna. Then, without consulting with other generals in the field or with the Directory at home, he offered Austria generous terms of truce which included exchanges of considerable territories.

All these events were to have their consequences for Father Chaminade, for Mlle de Lamourous, and for Adèle, the three people we are most concerned with here. At this time Adèle was two months shy of her eighth birthday. Given the relatively peaceful situation, her mother had decided to make a prolonged visit to her own mother, the

67 Countess de Peyronnencq, at Figeac (some 100 miles east and north of Agen) and to take Adèle and her brother Charles along. The events of the Revolution had already matured Adèle beyond her years. She had been born only a month after the Estates General met in Versailles. Her father, the Baron de Batz de Trenquelléon, of an illustrious family in Gascony, was a Colonel in the king’s Royal (personal) Guard. He had been on duty in Paris at the time of her birth and had received a promotion the very day after her birth. He was a royalist at heart and a staunch defender of his king. But the Guards were dissolved after they had failed to obey their officers in taking decisive action against the Paris mobs on July 14, 1789 (Bastille Day).

Her mother, too, was of the nobility and could trace her ancestry in two lines back to two sons of the saintly King Louis IX. Her mother and father had been married in 1787 at Montauban by Bishop de Malide of Montpellier, maternal uncle of the Baron (the Baron’s mother, Adèle’s paternal grandmother and godmother, was a de Malide). After their marriage, the Baron and Baroness honeymooned at the Baron’s family summer home at Trenquelléon. They then moved to Paris, where they were part of the inner royal circle, having been “presented at court.” Although they were popular and well‐ liked, they decided to return to Trenquelléon for the birth of their first child.

When Adèle was two‐and‐a‐half years old, her father left France to join the royalist forces gathering on the German border. She would not see him again for seven years. By the time she was five years old, the king had been executed, the entire feudal system of nobility and aristocracy had been dismantled, and the Catholic Church was in schism, the hierarchy and priests faithful to Rome no longer allowed to function. Before matters had come to that point, the devoutly religious family of de Batz had set aside a room in the chateau to be used as a chapel and had received permission of the bishop to have Masses celebrated there. Because the local pastor at Feugarolles had taken the civil oath and was technically in schism, the family no longer attended services there. When possible and prudent, a non‐juring priest would celebrate the sacraments for them in their own chapel.

The fatherless household was therefore a kind of family‐parish. In addition to the rare Masses which could be safely arranged, there were daily prayers and special Sunday services to which the servants were also invited. For in addition to the Baroness, Adèle, and her younger brother Charles, the “family” included the Baron’s mother, one of his brothers, one of his uncles, two of his sisters, Madame Pachan (a former religious), the household servants, and some members from the 27 peasant households living on various portions of the estate.

68 In 1792, after the royalist land forces had suffered several defeats, the Baron had moved to London, where he was living with his uncle in exile, Bishop de Malide. With other royalists, he was planning and hoping to invade the continent with the help of the British. But now, having borne arms against La Nation, he was not only an exile but also an enemy. All his properties were therefore subject to confiscation. The family had to submit to an invasion of their home as government agents took a most complete inventory of their possessions. It was on this occasion that Adèle, only five years old, had exclaimed, “But then, we shall soon be like poor old Job!” In actual fact, however, the confiscation eventually turned out to be only partial. The Baron’s eldest sister led the household through a series of legal delaying tactics and maneuvers which was able to save at least three‐fourths of the property; and some of it that was in fact confiscated, the family and friends (and servants) were able to buy back at auction.

During the Baron’s absence and during the various upheavals of the Revolution, the Baroness had not neglected the education of her two children. Because there was no question of going to the parish church for catechism, the Bible and religious art became the center of the learning process at home. Adèle learned quickly, asked questions, and retained a great deal. After Adèle’s death, her mother wrote to Father Chaminade that the child had been graced before the age of reason. She was alert, vivacious, even exuberant, also self‐willed and somewhat irascible. Under the prudent guidance of her mother and two aunts, she managed to develop great self‐control, moderation, and calm.

But her education was not limited to abstractions. The Baroness, a truly saintly, kindly, and outgoing Christian, devoted much of her time to looking after the needs of the servants, of the workers on the estate, and of the needy in the neighborhood. When Adèle was still very young, she would accompany her mother on these errands of charity and replace her at the kitchen door when it was time to distribute bread and clothing to the needy who came confidently to the chateau. More importantly, she had learned to “do without” for the sake of the more needy.

In early 1796 the Baroness took advantage of the relative calm to male a trip to Figeac when her younger sister, Jeanne‐Gabrielle, married Bertand de Casteras in a clandestine ceremony (January 7) witnessed by a non‐juror (one of their daughters, Elizabeth, would later become the third superior general of the Daughters of Mary). The Baroness and her two children spent six weeks with the newlyweds at their new home, Bétricot, not far from Trenquelléon. The following spring (1797), her other sister, Marie‐Paule was to be married to a military officer of royalist allegiance, who had taken advantage of the calm to return (unnoticed?) to his homeland from voluntary exile. That wedding was scheduled for May, and during this month of April the Baroness was planning and

69 packing for a prolonged visit she and the children would make to their grandmother de Peyronnencq at Figeac. Little did any of them suppose that the planned four‐month visit would turn into a four‐year exile in two foreign countries!

70 Chapter Fifteen May 1797

This month Adèle, with her mother and little brother Charles, was at Figeac, visiting her maternal grandmother, the Countess de Peyronnencq. The Countess’ husband had been a descendant of the 13th century King St. Louis IX, tracing his ancestry to the king’s sixth son, Robert, Count of Clermont (1256‐1317), who married Beatrice of Bourbon. For her part, the Countess could trace her genealogy to the king’s eldest son, Philip III, the Bold (1245‐1285), who married Isabel of Aragon. Adèle’s mother, Marie‐Ursule, the eldest of their three daughters, was only seven when the Count died, in 1771, at the age of 34 and after only nine years of marriage. At that time, the couple, with their daughters, had been living in Paris, where the Count was an officer in the Gray Musketeers and where the family was well‐seen in aristocratic circles.

With the death of her husband, there had no longer been any compelling reason for the countess to remain in Paris. With her three little girls (Marie‐Ursule, Marie‐Paule, and Jeanne‐Gabrielle) she moved to Figeac in south‐central France, midway between the Mediterranean and Atlantic coasts. There the family had an estate, and there the Countess devoted herself to the education and Christian formation of her children. At the same time, she carried on a ministry of charity which caused her to be loved by all in the surrounding area. It was here, no doubt, that her daughters, Marie‐Ursule in particular, learned the concern and love for the poor and needy which so characterized the chateau of Trenquelléon and, later, Adèle herself. Adèle and her mother, both now before, and later after their exile visited the Countess almost every year. This time, their visit was to be prolonged through the summer, from May to early September.

The immediate occasion of this visit in May of 1797 was the marriage of Marie‐Ursule’s sister Marie‐Paule (the middle one of the three sisters) to Jean‐Baptiste‐François de Termes. The new husband was a 33‐year‐old military man who would be forced to leave France only a few months later. Not until 1800 would he be able to rejoin his wife.

Although the Countess was well‐beloved and respected by all who know her, she was also known to be an aristocrat and a royalist. And it was these political leanings which caused her to be an occasion of near‐disaster for the Baron’s family at Trenquelléon. This part of the story goes back to the tumultuous and confused years early in the Revolution. In January of 1793, the chateau of Trenquelléon had twice been surrounded by lawless and marauding bands, operating at will outside any legal bounds. On one occasion a group of some 17 outlaws actually invaded the chateau and remained there overnight until driven out the next morning by National Guard troops led by the local Feugarolles official, who had great respect and concern for the well‐being of the

71 fatherless family. Meanwhile, since the Baron had by then gone into exile, posters appeared announcing the imminent confiscation of the de Trenquelléon properties.

In this atmosphere of insecurity, the de Trenquelléon family had accepted an offer of hospitality from the Lhuillier family in Agen, to find greater safety with them in the city. However, before leaving the chateau, Adèle’s mother and aunts had taken care to hide, as best they could, the valuables they could not take with them, should the chateau be again infested by brigands or robbers. Uncertain about their own future, the Baroness had written a letter eto th Countess “in case you should see my husband and I should not.” In the letter she also indicated which items had been hidden and where: some on the premises, some with servants or trusted villagers.

Shortly thereafter the officials at Figeac, more energetic in such matters than their counterparts at Feugarolles, paid a surprise visit to the Countess’ residence. They searched the premises for incriminating royalist materials and in the process stumbled upon the Baroness’ letter to her mother. The district police headquarters for the area of Trenquelléon‐Feugarolles were at Nérac, some ten miles to the south of Trenquelléon. The authorities at Figeac promptly notified those at Nérac that the Baroness and her family were hiding (“sequestering”) valuable property belonging (because it was subject to confiscation) to the Nation. At Nérac, the Baron’s name was (tenth) on the list of émigrés and the files already contained a summary inventory of the chateau’s possessions taken by the not‐overly‐conscientious authorities at Feugarolles in May a year earlier (1792).

This time, action would be much quicker and the inventory much more detailed. Within a week, on the evening of April 23 (1793), a detachment of 25 National Guard troopers surrounded the chateau, while officials and several policemen from Nérac, a copy of the Baroness’ letter in hand, presented themselves to the family (which had returned from Agen). The property was cordoned off, guards placed at all the entrances to the courtyard and the chateau, and the family and all the servants were herded into one room.

The police searched the chateau thoroughly, from cellars to attic. With the Baroness’ letter and the unenthusiastic but prudent cooperation of the family, they uncovered most of the Nation’s property from its hiding places. In some instances, the family, returning from Agen after the winter months, had retrieved some items so they were no longer where the letter had indicated. In these cases, the Baron’s sister Catherine‐Anne, nominal head of the household, had to swear as to which items had been removed and as to where they had been put. When the police found only 12,000 livres in letters of credit, hidden in the lining of an old dress, instead of the 18,000 the letter mentioned,

72 the Baroness was asked to swear that she had not hidden the rest elsewhere. [It had, in fact, been used to pay current expenses.] She refused to swear, saying that she considered taking an oath under the circumstances to be an insult to her religion. The police did not press eth point.

The 16‐page inventory drawn up on that occasion witnessed not only to the thoroughness of the search, but also to the wealth of the family. It also witnessed—a point of special interest in view of the prevailing class conflicts of the time—to the trust the family had put in its servants, for many items had been hidden in the servants’ quarters or even in their homes. Although in principle everything was to be preserved “as is” until the final decrees of confiscation were issued, the officials did allow the family to use some of their wine for the Baron’s elderly mother and his brother (the only male adult of the family then at the chateau). But they had to promise to render full value when the confiscation eventually took place!

The authorities remained at the chateau until April 25. The family was not to move, or remove, any of the inventoried items; a collection of the more precious and fragile ones had been placed in a room, locked and sealed, and the key taken to Nérac. All the inhabitants of the chateau were declared subject to “surveillance,” which in effect amounted to a form of house arrest. Between the accusation of having sequestered property of the Nation and the threat of confiscation based on the Baron’s departure from France, the family found itself in rather severe straits.

Although some of the confiscated property was in fact sold (and some bought again by the family or their servants), most of it was untouched because the family was able to prove that good segments of it belonged not to the exiled Baron, but to other members of the family. Especially after the end of the Reign of Terror, the changing political climate, coupled with the excellent reputation of the chateau with the local authorities, enabled the family to breathe more easily. And this allowed the Baroness to make this month’s planned trip to Figeac.

73 Chapter Sixteen June 1797

This month Father Chaminade was continuing to carry on his mission, secretly and cautiously. The sudden reversal of policy which had occurred between September 1795, when priests were encouraged to register with the government in order to function openly and with authorization, and October 1795, when the oppressive decrees of 1792 and 1793 were suddenly reinstated, had been a difficult lesson in the need of prudence. Of the approximately 70 priests who had registered, only five had been arrested. The rest had fled the country again or, like Father Chaminade, had returned to the underground in disguise.

During this almost two‐year period of hidden life, Father Chaminade continued his work of ministry to the people, especially with the number of persons who would rally around him in the future and form the nucleus of his work after 1800. A report prepared in 1802 for the new archbishop not only praises Father Chaminade for his ministry in most difficult times, but says he had rendered a “great service” to the diocese in addition. If, as Verrier suggests, this service consisted in carrying on a function of treasurer/business manager of the underground church, he no doubt continued to do so. There are a number of legal documents showing that he borrowed funds (against “annuities”) far beyond his own needs and repaid them after the Revolution had run its course.

The most important event of this month, certainly for Father Chaminade and perhaps for most of France, was another eshift in th power struggle in Paris. On June 27, the Council of Elders [upper house of the legislature] abrogated the infamous law of 3 brumaire year IV (October 25, 1795) which had abruptly reinstalled the anti‐non‐juror laws of 1792 and 1793 [see March 1797, above]. This meant that Father Chaminade and other priests, whether in exile or in hiding, might again reenter France or resurface from the underground. Many, including Father Chaminade, did just that—but with much greater prudence and caution, having learned by now how quickly events might change course! Father Chaminade was able now to set aside his various disguises, leave his hiding places, and reopen his oratory on Rue Sainte‐Eulalie.

The act by the Council of Elders was only one element in the gradual thawing of the anti‐church, anti‐clerical, and anti‐Christian atmosphere which had characterized much of the turmoil of previous years. There were strong, and to some dangerous, signs of a return to royalist and monarchist tendencies. Some sought a moderate compromise. A reporter of the day noted that the republicans were becoming organized in the face of the royalist offensive. Some of them established a “constitutional circle” known as the

74 Salm Club, from the name of the residence in which their meetings were held. These moderates belonged to the “non‐terrorist” leftist camp, or the center‐left. This meant that even if they were far removed from the radical Jacobins, they remained greatly attached to the Republic. The group intended to recruit a minority of leftist deputies, as well as some noteworthy non‐elected personalities.

Another reporter pointed out that religious freedom, especially as it affected the clergy, was still a controversial topic. Camille Jordan, a young deputy from Lyons, addressing the Council of the Five Hundred [lower house of the legislature], presented a report prepared by a committee in charge of revising laws on religion. One major feature of his speech was the “issue of bells.” Current legislation still banned using church bells to summon the faithful to services. Jordan defended the peasants’ right to be attached to their church bells. Why, he asked, deprive them of an innocent pleasure found in “one of the most marked sources of enjoyment contained in their religion”? He also urged abolition of the oath of acceptance of the Republic’s laws required of priests since September 1795. [This was the law which had allowed Father Chaminade to emerge from hiding for a brief period, during which he agreed to take that oath.]

Another deputy, Dubruel, spoke (June 26) in favor of a proposed law which would abrogate the decrees on deportation of dissidents, especially non‐juring priests. It was approved July 15 by the Council of Five Hundred and on August 24 by the Council of Elders.

Even Napoleon, the roving general, spoke of a desire for peace and quiet—although it is not at all clear that he was serious! According to his own remarks, all he wanted at that time was “a quiet life,” a restful existence with his wife Josephine. That was the message he had sent in a letter to the Directory, in response to some comments made by the deputy Dumoulard on June 23. Dumoulard had accused Napoleon of inordinate ambition and of “being much too Jacobin to be honest.”

Two less important items (depending, of course, on a person’s point of view) might be mentioned. In early June a report was made by Villette, the manager of the National Property Office, indicating he had just carried out (for the second time in two months) a very important mission: throwing prestigious tapestries into the fire. He explained that such an act “brings in money without harming the Republic’s interests. . . . I am even proud to say that it has been advantageous to the country, since the gold and silver materials that are contained in these hangings were unused values.” In April the Minister of the Interior had made a proposal “for burning some old tapestries in order to finance government needs.” Unfortunately, it happened that out of the one hundred

75 or so works that had perished in the fire under this program, some were based on designs by such artists as Durer, Le Brun, and Raphael.

Inflation had run rampant during the past several years. Between mismanagement at home and the drain of foreign wars, misery and destitution were widespread. The magnificent social “network” built over centuries by the Church had been dismantled by the Revolution and, despite some serious efforts, had not been replaced. In southeastern France, iron‐workers, smelters, and forge‐men were desperate. Some simply walked off their jobs and retired to some rural area to eke out a living. Others organized and went on strike for higher wages. In some small towns they elected a committee to guide and centralize their efforts. Each worker was to contribute one franc and pledge not to become a strike‐breaker. Anyone who forgot or broke his word was to be immediately killed and his house burned down. Some such efforts were partially successful; some were violently repressed by the authorities; others results in entire operations simply hiring all new workers, so high was unemployment.

Nor did peace reign in the legislature itself. There were the usual shouting matches and even occasional fisticuffs as tempers were aroused. Behind some of the fighting was the leftist deputies’ denunciation of the actions of the Treasury. They viewed that body as a “nest of counter‐revolutionaries” because it took advantage of its autonomy to pursue its own policies. On June 9, the royalist Desmolères submitted a report calling for the end of further credits to the government to force it to make peace with England. It seemed the right‐wing wanted to put an end to the financial traffic between the ministries and the firms supplying the armed forces.

France was not in very good condition, and each political wing placed the blame elsewhere. Meanwhile, Father Chaminade and his kind took advantage of the relative tolerance to intensify their own efforts at fostering reconciliation and harmony within a badly divided Catholic community.

76 Part III: Some “Acts of God”

Chapter Seventeen 1906. “Reporter on Site”

The house annals of the St. James (SF) Marianist community begin with the date of August 13, 1905. Bro. Bernard Reckert, designated superior, was then a member of the St. Joseph (SF) community. After three preliminary entries recording the negotiations between the pastor of St. James (Rev. P. R. Lynch) and the Marianist superiors (George Sauer, director of St. Joseph, and George Meyer, Provincial), the annals note: 1906, April 18: “Terrible earthquake 5:12 A.M.”

Several subsequent entries refer to the effects of the earthquake on the life and work of the religious, but there are no further details of the quake itself.

* * *

By contrast, the annals of St. Joseph (Brother Sauer) are rich in descriptive prose.

5:13 A.M. Terrible Earthquake. Shock lasted about 43 seconds. —All brick chimneys were shaken off our buildings. One crashed through the roof of the priests’ house, another through the roof of the Sisters’ building. A number of bricks from the convent roof broke through our rear window and landed on a bed in the dormitory. —Our house stood well on its foundations but received a terrible rocking, which cracked the plaster on walls and ceilings, broke all statues, empted contents of libraries and dish‐ closets on the floor, overturned or threw down pictures on the walls.

The school building was not greatly injured except that the chemicals in the laboratory were in a heap on the floor and had already begun to burn when the room was opened, within five minutes after the quake. None of the other buildings were greatly injured either, except that the plaster was cracked or down.

Many buildings collapsed, and fires started in all parts of town. Before 9 A.M. several blocks had been entirely consumed, but the fire, coming our way, was checked at Eighth Street. There being little or no water, dynamite was used to check the flames. — Before noon another fire had started near Hayes and Gough Streets, and soon several blocks were ablaze. St. Ignatius’ Church and College, the large Pavilion, St. Nicholas Hotel—all went down. Even the width of Market Street was no barrier to the fierce flames, as there was a strong wind blowing, and soon the fire was coming down Ninth,

77 Tenth & Eleventh Streets. —Not the least effort was made to fight the fire in our section. People simply saved a few valuables and left their premises to the flames. For several hours we were busy loading wagons and trucks with goods from the church, schools, and other buildings. Only da limite amount could be saved, as we did not have enough wagons.

We saved our trunks and personal effects, and about one‐third of our library, but no furniture of any kind. From the school we saved the typewriters (7) and a few physical instruments—also our violins. All the sacred vessels, vestments, and other effects from the sacristies were secured. From the Sisters’ convent and the priests’ house many things were likewise put on the trucks. At about five o’clock P.M. the flames crossed Howard Street, and the school began to burn. One building went after the other—even the new convent, which was just about completed and had never been occupied—till about seven P.M. no vestige of St. Joseph’s was remaining.

Priests, Brothers, and Sisters all went to St. Peter’s. —The burning city was an awful spectacle that night, and few cared about sleep or rest. Toward morning we took a little repose on the floor in the Brothers’ residence.

[April] 19. Thursday. Fire advancing in the Mission. Brought provisions in grocery stores around 24th Street as there was no telling where the calamity would end. Late in the afternoon we moved all our belongings out to St. John’s on the Mission road. Toward 9 P.M. about 35 Sisters who were assembled at St. Peter’s were escorted to St. John’s. —Before midnight the fire had reached 19th Street. Bro. Joseph B[asta] and myself slept at St. Peter’s, the rest at St. John’s.

20. Early in the morning the fire was conquered. It had reached 20th and 21st Streets between Howard and Dolores. Went to 10th and Howard to see ruins. All slept in basement of St. John’s parish house.

Apr. 21. Saturday. —Moved our belongings back to St. Peter’s, where we established ourselves in two classrooms of the boys’ school. [. . .]

22. In the afternoon Bro. Alex Breglenza and myself started for San Jose. He was sick and needed medical attention. No trains were running on schedule—only “relief” trains—free transportation. The cars were frightfully packed with “refugees” leaving the town. Met a Jesuit scholastic on the car and when we reached Santa Clara et 11 P.M. went with him to Santa Clara College for the night. Bro. Alex B. was put into the infirmary, where he remained several days.

78 23. Heavy rain during the night. Went to San Jose and returned to Santa Clara for the night, as the Brothers (St. Joseph, San Jose) had to lodge all the Jesuit Fathers at their house. (118 Orchard).

24. Returned to San Francisco at 7.10 A.M. Called on Rev. Lynch in the evening to talk about Brothers for St. James.

Apr. 28. Saturday. —Began “Relief Work.” Brothers and Sisters distributed clothing, shoes, blankets, etc. in the yards attached to St. Peter’s school. [The Brothers continued to work at the Relief Station until June 23.] —Settled school question with Rev. Lynch. St. James to be opened, if possible, this year instead of 1907, as had been agreed on.”

[On May 10 Bro. Michael Schleich, Inspector, arrived from Dayton; three days later, Fr. Charles Klobb, “Visitor” from the G.A., arrived from Honolulu. They toured the ruins of San Francisco, of Stanford University, and of San Jose. Work on the Brothers’ new house at 1417 Howard Street began May 31.]

June 10. Sunday. Rev. Lynch announces at all masses that Brothers would take charge of St. James school. 11 A.M. Bro. Joseph Basta and John Gilbride leave for Stockton and East.

19. Money spent on tickets for the four traveling East, refunded by the “Relief” because we had been doing relief work. Received check for $111.00. Rev. Casey, chairman of our relief station, secured the refund.

[The religious were able to move into their new quarters August 11‐14. Out of the ashes. . . .]

79 Chapter Eighteen 1906. “Reporter at Large”12

It was a bright, clear morning, April 18, 1906, Wednesday after Easter. In the three school communities of the Brothers of Mary in California, the religious had risen a few minutes before 5:00 a.m. and were either already in chapel or on the way there. At 5:12, the brothers at St. Joseph parish, Tenth and Howard, San Francisco, heard a loud subterranean rumble that quickly became a roar. Was this “just another tremor?” By now, except for the most recent arrivals from back East, the religious were accustomed to California quakes.

But on this morning, the rumbling did not cease; it became progressively more violent, and for a seemingly endless 43 seconds dominated their thoughts, their prayers, and their lives. Bro. George Sauer, 41‐year‐old director of the community, later wrote this:

At first, the doors shook and the windows rattled, then the building began to sway, the floors appeared to rise and fall, everything movable was in commotion. . . . Shock succeeded shock. . . . The chimneys on the roof . . . soon came tumbling into the yard … To us it appeared as if some mighty power had seized the building, raised it bodily from the ground, given it a tremendous shaking, and then placed it once more on its foundations.

At St. Mary’s in Stockton, the community also felt the violent quaking. Although the shock to all was severe, there was no real damage to the buildings. But Bro. John Neuberger, who had arrivede ther only the previous August, reassigned from Hawaii, wondered how local the tremor might have been. It was not until late that afternoon that news reached Stockton, via telegraph from Chicago, of what San Francisco had suffered. Neuberger tried unsuccessfully to reach the community at St. Joseph; there was no telephone service, no telegraph; special delivery mail did not get through until days later. Within a few days, some 5,000 refugees from the Bay Area had found their way to Stockton. St. Mary’s school became a “relief center,” and children and grownups collected foodstuffs and clothing for the new arrivals.

In San Jose, the brothers at St. Joseph school, in the Jesuit parish, had just assembled in chapel when the quake struck. Many loose items fell in disarray, and all the chimneys on the house toppled. Other than that, the brothers’ residence suffered no damage. However, the school, the church, the Jesuit residence, and the Sisters’ house were all

12 See V.E. Steele, The Society of Mary in California, 1958; Annals, St. Joseph, S.F.; Apostle of Mary, vol. 2, no. 3, pp. 167-172; no. 4, pp. 250-253.

80 badly hit. Fortunately, despite the fact that 500‐pound stones crashed through the roof of the church and of the Sisters’ convent, no one was injured.

Meanwhile, in San Francisco the brothers were responding as best they could to the totally unexpected. “We did what all good people do in a similar case,” Brother Sauer recalled; “we feared greatly, prayed devoutly and ran from the house unhesitatingly and rapidly. . . .” The pastor,” Brother Sauer remembered, “was out in bare feet in his nightgown. The Sisters came out as pale as death and trembling like leaves.” As soon as some semblance of quiet returned, the brothers dashed to the school, fearful that perhaps the chemistry lab might have caught fire. Indeed, it had, and there was now no water in the pipes. However, with handfuls of dirt from the garden the fire was successfully smothered.

The community watched in horror as the former cable powerhouse across the street from them succumbed to the trembler. “The tall tower fell into the street with a frightful crash, bearing down the network of telegraph and telephone wires, as also the trolley wires which latter gave an awful display of their own before the power was shut off. . . . The towering chimney . . . toppled over some 50 feet from the base, and its tons of brick crashed through the roof of the structure, burying also beneath its mass the neighboring house in which were entombed some nine persons . . . none was killed outright, and only two died subsequently.”

Soon it became fearsomely clear that the greatest danger was yet to come. Reports, mixed with wild rumors, quickly arose that fires had broken out in various parts of the city—with gas mains ruptured and water lines broken and a high wind blowing, little could be done to contain them. The brothers began to salvage what they could from school and church and residences in anticipation of the worst.

By 10:00 a.m. the area bounded by Market‐Folsom‐Sixth‐Eighth was gone, and the wind was blowing another fire from the Hayes and Franklin area toward Tenth and Howard. To the consternation of all, the fire unexpected leaped across the wide expanse of Market: Rapidly the fire came down our way, sweeping three blocks abreast till about 5 p.m. it had leaped over Howard Street and our school began to blaze. Our house burned at the same time, and soon the fire was communicated to the other parish buildings till not a vestige of any of them remained, even the new convent which was just about completed but had never been occupied. By seven o’clock St. Joseph’s was a memory of the past and only a few embers remained of all the buildings we had known so long and well.

As the fire had approached their area, the brothers were ordered by soldiers to leave for their own safety. The brothers, sisters, and parish priests found temporary quarters that first night at St. Peter’s, Twenty‐fourth and Alabama. The next day, with destruction and devastation all around and St. Peter’s itself now threatened by fire, they gathered what they could of their belongings and transferred them to St. John’s on Mission Road opposite old St. Mary’s College. Their carts made several trips, and one of them was eventually requisitioned by the solders to serve as an ambulance. By 9:00 p.m. the refugees were themselves ready to move to St. John’s.

A number of Sisters from other locations and other congregations had meanwhile also taken temporary refuge at St. Peter’s, and together with the parish priests and brothers went on foot to their new location. “The way was long and weary, and great was the consternation of the people who lined the roadside to see such a number of nuns [35 of them!], in the dead of night, by the light of the burning dwellings, silently wending their way to the place of refuge.” The procession reached its destination three hours later, and the brothers slept the rest of the night on the lawn at St. John’s.

Two days later, with the fires under control, the community returned to St. Peter’s to face their uncertain future. Bro. Sauer wrote to the Dayton superiors, “We are fortunate yet, compared with our poor parishioners with large families who saved little or nothing.”

82 Chapter Nineteen Across the Pacific in 1923

St. Joseph College of Yokohama had its beginnings in 1888 as part of Morning Star (Gyosei) School in Tokyo. It dates its actual foundation as an International School from Sept. 20, 1901, when Bro. Louis Stoltz, five other Marianists, and 70 students moved to “The Bluff” of Yokohama. More than twenty years later, in the “Great Earthquake” of Japan (1923), the entire complex suffered destruction except for the lower floors of a new building.

On October 10, 1923, Bro. John Grote, at Bright Star Commercial School in Osaka, wrote to Bro. Adolf Eiben, then in Hawaii. The entire following text is from his letter:

My dear Bro. Eiben,

Your note of the previous 20th to hand this minute; I hasten to give you the news you so anxiously await. I should have done so sooner, but I was physically down and out at the time of the terrible visitation, with the school year about to begin and my folks to reassure.

Now to lose no time. It was a fine bright morning, that opening day of September, and the clock showed a minute or two to noon when one of the greatest catastrophes the world has yet known befell our dear Japan. The blow was as unexpected as it was severe. General news the daily press has served you; it’s about our brothers and our works that you want to know. Let me begin with what you called your home for 11 long years. It was the hour for particular examen, which exercise as you know was always made in the study room during the summer months owing to the excessive heat in the chapel. Bros. [Joseph] Janning, [William] Abromitis, [Joseph] Mutchler and [Francis‐Xavier] Bertrand were kneeling beside their desks. The first was a frightful vertical quake, which suddenly changed to an equally frightful horizontal one; the former took everything off its foundation; the latter made everything crumble.

The house careened; the libraries emptied themselves; the windows were shattered; and the heavy desks (big flat‐top type) went flying about like corks in troubled water. Above the din of crashing buildings and the howling of the strong wind which suddenly arose, our four bewildered confreres heard the shrieks of the sick pinned beneath the ruins of the hospital. Bro. Janning was the first to get out. While Bros. Mutschler and Abromitis were holding on to the moving desks to prevent themselves from being cast about more violently—for the quake continued—and Bro. Bertrand stood in the doorway to protect himself from the falling ceiling, Bro. Janning wanted to

83 try an escape from the veranda, but the tin roof of the steps leading to the rotunda was no more. To the chapel he ran, fearing fire from the sanctuary lamp. The lamp was out. It was swinging about like a censer in the hands of a lively young server during a Sunday evening benediction. The statues were already in pieces. The tabernacle was gone, having been thrown to the floor; the benches were pell‐mell.

Assured that there was no fire, Bro. Joe hurried back to the main stairs, only to find them gone—heaped up in the basement. To estay in th building meant courting death. With the aid of what remained of the balustrade, he gained the lower floor and jumped out, for the steps leading to the yard had fallen. The lower playground reached, he called for the others. Receiving no answer and seeing no trace of them, he feared for their safety as quake succeeded quake, each so severe that it was impossible to kneel or stand or sit.

He saw the little boys’ dormitory and music rooms collapse. All this happened in far less time than it takes to relate it. Bro. Bertrand, it seems, crawled down the wrecked stairs to the rear of the chapel while Bros. Mutchler and Abromitis got down the best they could, one encouraging the other as they put their feet from one banister to another. The four were happy to meet in the yard, feeling for the time that all danger was past. Unfortunately, it was not.

No building in brick withstood the quake. The buildings of the poor Sisters next to us were a complete wreck, and the poor Sisters needed help. Beneath the ruins of the chapel were buried 11 Sisters, living, crying for help but unable to extricate themselves from the big beams that pinned them to the floor. Over debris of all kinds Bros. Janning and Abromitis climbed and were the first to come to their aid. With a little handsaw— the only tool they could lay their hands upon—they sawed away at the big beams, after removing enough bricks to allow them to reach the Sister nearest.

An hour they worked, with a group of orphans and a few Sisters who had succeeded in gaining the yard, praying with arms uplifted, rending the air with their cries of “Jesus, have mercy on us!” The fruit of the hour’s work was the life of a little Irish nun saved, and oh, how grateful. The noonday heat was intense, and there was no water to be had. Bro. Janning rushed to our overturned beehives and, tearing out a part of the honey‐ filled comb, hurried back. For almost another hour they plied that little saw, changing off as their wearied arms refused to move, and another was rescued. Where were the rest? Their cries were piteous, but there was no getting at them. Of one who cried, “Oh, take this weight off my chest,” they asked if she could see them. She answered that she could not, but could see the light through chinks. The heavy beams of the roof lay

84 crisscrossed, and it would have taken hours to saw them through with the poor tool at hand. The time was not to be had.

In all parts of the city, fire had broken out. The ruins of the hospital were already aflame. Fanned by the raging typhoon, the flames shot out for hundreds of feet and came on at a giant’s pace. The heat became intense; the smoke stifling; flight was imperative. The poor imprisoned nuns must certainly have realized that their hour had come; they could smell the smoke and feel the heat. To the Mercy of God our devoted confreres confided them, and after a last glimpse at St. Joseph’s College, already enveloped in flames, they made for the country house of the Sisters, out beyond Rifle Range, to inform the superior of what had come to pass and to put in safety a little American girl, the only one of the foreign children staying at the school to be saved. She and another little girl has been told to take something to the garret. The other not caring to go, the little American went alone. Just as she reached the third floor or garret, the quake came and down she went with the building; and a moment later, all bewildered yet unscratched, she crawled out thru the attic window into the garden. In the ruins were buried her six companions and 28 orphans. Some had instantly winged their flight to a better land; the rest were soon to follow. The poor old French nun in the kitchen was imprisoned and burned to death. When the debris was removed two days later, she was found kneeling with her hands folded in the attitude of prayer, her body burnt to charcoal.

In the country, too, all houses were down or toppling. When Bros. Janning and Abromitis reached the Sisters’ place, they found a little sanctuary lamp keeping vigil before the Blessed Sacrament, saved by one of the nuns and placed in the potato field. On their wearied knees they fell, and gratitude was the burden of their prayer. Their clothes were alld dirty an in tatters, but that mattered nothing. Their lives were saved while thousands upon thousands of poor victims lay dead in the city. Toward evening, Rev. Le Moine joined them. For several hours he had been buried beneath the ruins of the priest’s house and had cried himself hoarse in French, English, and Japanese before help came. Father Barbet, the pastor, gave up his saintly soul with the collapse of the building. Our mutual friend, Father de Noailles [affiliated member of the Society] was crushed to death in his home. His remains were dug out and interred a few days later by Father Deurin.

All night through severe quakes continued and the city burned. Sleep was troubled. In the morning, Bros. Janning and Abromitis received Holy Communion and then wended their way back to what had been 24 hours before the beautiful city of Yokohama. The destruction was complete. Our new building, just completed, stood with its walls rent in placed. The roof was burned and one of the rooms on the first floor, but what was left

85 of the other nine buildings on our property, nothing, absolutely nothing. Not even a trace of the big dictionaries or of any book, not even a square inch of wood. Yokohama has been wiped out and St. Joseph’s College with it. God’s ways are not ours; may his Holy Will be done.

But I am keeping you in suspense. Bro. Bertrand became our hero of the Blessed Sacrament. He did the impossible. With the building listing and rocked by the rapidly succeeding quakes and with no trace of steps left, he got back to the chapel, hauled out the tabernacle from among the benches and with the ciborium pressed to his bosom regained the yard, and a few minutes later our main building was a prey to the flames. They [Bertrand and Mutschler] had gone to the help of the sisters, too, but being unable to do anything and seeing the flames as rapidly coming on, returned to save the Blessed Sacrament. They were soon hemmed in on all sides by the fire. Escape was impossible. In the playground they had to lie burying their faces in holes they had dug out with their hands to protect themselves from the stifling smoke. From time to time they glanced up at the school as the destructive flames did their work rapidly and thoroughly. Flames swept over them for a long time, and they were almost burnt to death. Water standing in a barrel in the yard had actually boiled.

So far I’ve said nothing of Brother Beuf, Director of the Morning Star Primary School, Tokyo, who was in Yokohama at the time of the quake. A bosom friend of Father de Noailles, he had gone down to pay him a visit that morning. He had left him shortly after eleven and was just entering the gate near our kitchen when the first quake came. He was thrown to the ground and slightly wounded in the face. He later took refuge in the Bluff Gardens and passed the night there. Had he remained to dine with Father de Noailles, he would have been crushed to death with his friend.

Refugees flocked to the boats in the harbor. As there was nothing more to do or care for in Yokohama, Bros. Janning and Abromitis left for Kobe by the first steamer out. It was an English liner. The Captain appointed them official registrars of all refugees aboard. It was from them that the Osaka brothers and the Provincial, who had just come up from Nagasaki for the Annual Retreat, got the first details, for all communication had been broken.

Let this much suffice for the present about Yokohama. Now for Tokyo. I must be brief. The brothers and scholastics are all safe, thanks to God and our Immaculate Mother. The Middle School building stands although badly damaged; the Primary was completely reduced to ashes. For some time it was the Chu Gakko [High School] that was menaced by the fire. In fact, several times the chapel had begun to burn, but each time the good brothers and scholastics thru their unrelenting efforts succeeded in

86 extinguishing the flames. The Chu Gakko was immediately turned into a temporary hospital. Father Meinzinger, an eyewitness of all that happened in Tokyo, has most probably sent a detailed account of all, in his own interesting masterly style.

Yamakita [the brothers’ summer home, about 70 miles from Yokohama]. —There were 15 brothers there at the time of the disaster. All are safe, Bro. Goger alone wounded in the thigh. The new house [the former Yokohama infirmary building had been moved to Yamakita a year ago] is entirely lost; the old Japanese home almost. The brothers were in the new at the time, just finishing examinations. Bro. Goger jumped through the nearest window and went on down the hill with the stones of the retaining wall at the side of the house. It’s surprising he wasn’t killed.

Receiving vague but all but encouraging reports from refugees from Yokohama and vicinity, Bro. Gaschy became very anxious and on the morning of the fourth, he and Bros. Galonnier, Haegeli, Bigrous and Lehmann set out for Yokohama being obliged to foot the whole distance. They made it in two days and a night, almost constantly on the go. Bro. Gaschy’s heart almost broke when he saw what he had worked so hard to put on a good footing reduced to ashes. Fiat.

I must now break off abruptly. Bro. Janning is with me today and says he wrote you shortly after his arrival in Kobe, so you must have news at the very time. Our loss of property alone, not counting the repairs that will be necessary on standing buildings, runs over $400,000.00. Repairs will run to about $200,000.

We put our trust in Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Pray for us and the victims, some of whom you have known.

Papers announce a big quake for the whole of Kansai, which comprises Osaka, Kobe, Kyoto, Najoya, Himeji, etc. God know what’s best. We are in his keeping doing not our work but his and Mary’s.

Your old pal, John H. Grote, SM

P.S. My very best to all my old friends in the Islands. John.

[Writing from Yamakita, Bro. F.‐X. Antoni added these details:]

I felt the earth tremble violently, causing fissures all around me. I tried to hold fast to the trees. It was useless; they rocked too much. I was about to ascend to

87 the refectory when I saw the burning kitchen, stove and cook coming down the slope, and beside me, the house I had just left, tumbling to ruin. Monstrous boulders rolled down from the steep mountain, but we were spared. I prayed, turned, and quickly descended the little slope into the valley. On that day 220 shocks, more or less violent were felt. In 16 days we experienced 1,319 shocks. The 12 brothers yet here were to leave for Yokohama or Tokio Sept. 3, and now were marooned for 3 weeks more, terribly huddled together in a small Japanese house. . . . All this while we had no idea of conditions in Yokohama and Tokio and believed the quake to be local to this district.

88 Part IV: “A Time for War”13

Chapter Twenty Repercussions from an American Civil Conflict14

“. . . as for Texas, I know neither when nor how I might ever get there.” So wrote Fr. Jean Courtès, official visitor to the American Province, to Good Father Caillet (8/5/1862) just days after his arrival in the States. He wrote in French because he knew neither English,e “th bizarre language” of this country, as Brother Stinzi had phrased it, nor German, the language of most of the brothers in America at that time. Of the 65 religious listed for the previous July, some 20 were directly from France. Of the others, only one, Dominic Caron from Greenville, was native‐born. The rest were immigrants, mostly German. It is interesting that in the official correspondence from the States to the GA there is no hint of the anti‐foreign, and specifically anti‐German‐Catholic, sentiment aroused by the Know‐Nothing movement of the Civil War period.

What is very evident is the concern about the fate of the San Antonio foundation. Courtès continued: Brother Litz knows the German consul in Cleveland. We visited him to see whether there might not be some way to get to San Antonio despite the [Union] blockade. In his opinion it would be a very difficult voyage, and above all a very dangerous one. In any event, he believes it would be necessary to get a recommendation from the French ambassador in Washington in order to obtain a passport from the Department of War of the United States of the North.

At that very moment, Courtès wrote, matters were not going well for the North. The South seemed much more committed to the struggle; the North was running short of both men and money. Reports had it that the southern troops were only 15 miles from Washington. In Dayton, despite the most “fabulous promises” made to prospective enlistees, only one volunteer had enrolled locally. There was talk of a draft to raise 300,000 troops, and even of a general conscription of all able‐bodied males aged 16 to 25. “We are all praying for peace,” Courtès assured the GA. No less terrible than the war, though, he told them, was the “yellow fever,” the “American Baptism,” which all Europeans expect to receive . . . and which he himself would suffer a month later.

13 See also Chap. 22, below, Saint-Remy and WWI. 14 See AGMAR 93.1.1, 2.1, 3.1; 93.2.15, 2.19, 2.21, 2.26, 2.34; Garvin, Centenary Book; Schmitz, SM in Texas.

89 After the annual retreat, the first preached in English over the strong protest of Stinzi who did not “think that the fact that it is the language of the country is good enough reason to give the retreat in English to religious who are all, or almost all, Germans.” Courtès returned to the matter. Correspondence between Texas and Dayton might be carried on via Paris and Mexico, since “it is said that there is no blockade between Mexico and Texas.” Yet it seemed important to visit the place to see first‐hand what kind of life the community there was living. But Courtès’ projected visit never did take place. He was appointed to a five‐year term as Provincial in December of 1862, Father Meyer having returned to France in November. But Courtès was in turn replaced in December 1864 by John Nepomucene Reinbolt, who was originally to have been simply Courtès’ English‐speaking secretary.

The new Provincial assured the GA (May 21, 1865) that “as soon as the war is over I propose to go to visit our brothers in San Antonio, who have not had any official visitation since the foundation of that establishment.” However, it is clear from his subsequent letters that he would do so only “under obedience” and “when I receive such an order from Paris.” His lack of enthusiasm for the trip can well be understood from his own explanation in a letter (May 22) to Brother Boby, then secretary‐general: The trip, it is said, is at least as expensive as one from here to Paris and would take at least as long. And I add that it would be much more dangerous, according to reports of people who have visited the Gulf of Mexico and the wild plains of Texas, largest State of the American Union and at least as large as all of France. In summer the heat there is tropical, and yellow fever is rampant from New Orleans to Galveston. . . . Besides the war is not yet over and has given rise to guerrilla bands that roam about the south. They are honorable thieves; they leave to the victims their lives, but take everything else. In fact, just such an event took place recently near Cincinnati. Thirty well‐armed men tore up the rails and stopped the train a few miles from that city. They pillaged the 200 passengers, of whom 50 were unarmed soldiers. They also took the public strongbox and that of the Company. In all they got some 100‐150 thousand dollars, which is to say almost two‐thirds of a million francs.

Together with his Council, Reinbolt was seriously considering the advisability of closing San Antonio. Brother Edel, superior in Texas, was able to stop in Dayton on his way to plead the cause of Texas at the General Chapter (Sept. 1865). Reinbolt had at first thought of accompanying Edel to San Antonion from the Chapter, but returned directly to Dayton instead. He reported (Oct. 15) that the unanimous position of the brothers in the North, himself included, was to close San Antonio. The GA “would never have sent religious to Texas in 1852 if it had had the experience of 1860‐1865.” All the brothers

90 evidence “repugnance” at the thought of being assigned to San Antonio; and he cited a “theological principle” according to which a general profession of religious vows did not obligate a person to “expatriate” himself—which is what the brothers from the North would be asked to do if they were sent to Texas. He pointed out again the practical difficulties of assigning personnel “when the round trip of the single person costs 1,200 to 1,600 francs and when the voyage is longer (in time) and more dangerous than that from Dayton to Paris.”

However, he wrote (Oct. 28), “Despite the hardship of winter travel, I am ready to go to San Antonio, under the protection of Mary and of obedience.” And in November he repeated. “I hold myself in readiness to go to San Antonio at the first such order coming from Paris.” He did, in fact, make his visitation in January of 1866. He traveled the Ohio and the Mississippi to Galveston, taking 20 days for the trip, including his time in Texas. There he stayed a full 12 days and, happily for the future of the Marianist presence in the Lone Star State, was favorably impressed with what he found.

* * *

In addition to relationships with San Antonio, the American Civil War brought to the fore another concern of the superiors of the American Marianists, both the PA in Dayton and the GA in Paris: the matter of the legal rights of the Society of Mary in America, and particularly its right to own property. When Father Meyer had purchased the Dayton farm of Mr. Stuart (and later a property in Cleveland), he did so “in his own name.” Although some of the superiors in Europe accused him of having acted without authorization, he in fact considered the advice given to him in the matter by Brother Clouzet as having been official approval. However, following the opinion of the Archbishop of Cincinnati that the Society of Mary had no legal existence in the United States and therefore could not own property there, Meyer signed the necessary documents himself. Hew then dre up a will which named the archbishop beneficiary of the Dayton property.

By the time Courtès arrived in the States as official visitor, Meyer had already begun inquiries with a view to transferring ownership to the Society of Mary by having the latter recognized civilly by the State of. Ohio Shortly after his appointment as Provincial, Courtès informed Good Father Caillet that, while not everything the attorneys were recommending might be acceptable, There is nonetheless something excellent in their observations: we must anticipate the possibility of war between the United States and France, something which seems even probable. In that case, it could very well happen

91 that French citizens would be despoiled and expelled from the country. So it seems to me that if the General Administration, for whatever reason, does not appear to you to be sufficiently able to administer its possessions in the US either directly or through a representative, and that, therefore, you think it should be established according to American civil law, it would be good to have as members of this new Society, in addition to all the members of the GA, two or three names that are not French and who, together with the Provincial or the Superior of Nazareth, would be delegated by the Society to administer its properties in Ohio. I believe it would be easy enough to find two or three religious on whom one could count, so that in case of war they could present themselves [as owners] to prevent the property being confiscated as being property of French nationals. I think that would be enough to safeguard [our possessions]. However, I will check to make sure that such an arrangement would be sufficient. I will ask the attorneys to draw up a draft of articles of incorporation according to these guidelines, and I will forward it to you as soon as I have received it.”

Under date of February 25,1863, Courtès sent the promised draft proposal. It consisted of 19 articles which the GA was asked to approve so they could be registered with the State. He explained in detail the procedures to be followed. If you decide to Americanize the Society, be good enough to return the draft with any revisions: corrections, additions, deletions, or changes. I will take care of the rest. But you must also then send me two sheets of paper. One sheet, blank, with all your signatures—yours, your three Assistants, the secretary‐general—but without indication of date or place. Between the top of the page and the signatures, leave enough room for the articles of the draft. These I will then have translated into good English and will transcribe above the signatures. To your signatures, then, I will add those of all the German and American religious—as a matter of prudence and precaution. If indeed war does break out between France and the United States, it may well be that the American government will be tempted to lay hands on French properties. And it may be presumed that it will move more carefully before taking ours when it sees that it is not owned exclusively by Frenchmen. The second sheet needs only the signature of Brother Boby. On this sheet the same articles will be reproduced, but in the form of Minutes [of a meeting]; and it is these Minutes which are to be registered [with the State]. These Minutes need only the signature of the secretary. We will submit the Minutes and keep the first sheet ourselves. We will make a copy of it and send it to you with all the signatures that will have been added to yours from Paris. By adding your own

92 signature to this copy, and those of your Assistants and of Brother Boby, your copy will be exactly the same as the original, which we will keep. In this way we can say with complete verity that the “act” of the Society has been done in duplicate, one copy beinge in th possession of the Superior General, the other in the hands of his representative in America, duplicates being deposited in their respective archives.

After this Act was registered with the State, Courtès continued, Meyer could then sell or give the property of Nazareth (and Cleveland) to the Superior‐General ors to hi representative in America, either one acting as agent for the new society. This procedure, he assured Caillet, would be at least as safe as anything that might be done in France. And, he added, it would help safeguard the Society from “adventurers” who roamed the convents of the New World seeking only to exploit them.

However, matters were not quite so simple as they had at first seemed. In July Courtès informed the GA that, after having consulted experts in Dayton, Cincinnati, and Cleveland, he realized that there were two types of civil societies in Ohio: the “corporation” for business and commercial enterprises; and the “association” for private, religious, or charitable works. In this latter case, the State approved only the local house or work and not the institute itself, while granting limited tax exemptions. He believed, he said, that the Society in Ohio should incorporate as a “free” or “private” association because it was not engaged in commercial pursuits.

By September the matter was done. On the seventh of that month, Courtès sent “the act of association signed and registered. It is in duplicate.” The GA was to sign its copy above the American signatures, being careful to leave space for the all‐important seal and to put initials before the last names of the signatories. Since the final draft of the articles referred to the French Civil Code, article 6, to explain better the nature of the Society of Mary, Courtès asked that a copy of that article be sent to him. The Act would be recorded in English, French, and German, with article 6 added for purposes of clarification. Father Meyer, Courtès suggested, should then transfer the ownership by sale rather than by gift. A week later the sale of the properties of Nazareth and of Cleveland was registered with the State of Ohio, and as of December 19, 1863, Courtès could then inform the GA: “The Society is constituted; the transfer of goods has been completed.”

93 Chapter Twenty‐one Repercussions from a European Conflict15

Father George Meyer is certainly one of the great figures of the American Marianist story. Born in France in 1850, he made his first profession at Ebersmuenster in 1868 and was ordained in Paris in 1876. He died at Mount St. John on Sept. 28, 1939, after having served some 20 years as novicemaster. He was Provincial of the American Province from 1896 to 1906, in which year he was succeeded by Weckesser. With the division of the Province two years later, Meyer was called upon to assume the leadership of the Easter Province; Weckesser became Provincial of the West with headquarters at Ferguson, Missouri. The following year the death of Brother Kim brought Brother Schleich to the GA, and Bro. George Sauer succeeded the latter as Inspector of the Eastern Province.

It was shortly past the mid‐term of this Meyer‐Sauer administration that war broke out in Europe. The years from 1914 until the end of 1918 were especially difficult ones for them, communications with the GA being slow and circuitous and often simply impossible. Reflections on the early phases of the conflict are almost nonexistent in the official correspondence. Meyer and Sauer were, after all, German names, and prudence dictated a low profile in the critical atmosphere of anti‐German sentiment fanned by the hostilities in Europe.

The first news of the outbreak of war no doubt came from the American newspapers. Meyer’s first concern was for the safety of the GA. On August 6, 1914, he wrote to Schleich at Nivelles, Belgium: We are a little in the dark about the war, but so much we know that it is all over Europe and that the means of communication are very limited. President Wilson offered, in a beautiful letter, his good services for peace. Will he succeed? I doubt. The excitement is too great. . . . I would like to know who is responsible for this conflagration. Tell our Good Father and the General Administration that he and all are welcome at Nazareth. We will find a place in case of necessity. . . . Ambition among sovereigns is an awful vice. How many innocent men will lose their lives. Let us pray: A bello libera nos, Domine.

The same day he wrote to Good Father Hiss., “We are most distressed to see such a widespread conflict and especially to learn that the beautiful country of Belgium has already been invaded. I do not know whether this letter will reach you, but I dare to hope so.” [It did, but at Rome on September 13.]

15 See AGMAR 83.1.128-207; 83.2.1-88.

The following day he continued. Two weeks ago, no one would have anticipated such a thing. I feel sorry for Belgium, a peaceful people drawn willy‐nilly into this war. The German Emperor will have his day, like Napoleon. . . . Let us hope the war will not last long and that all will be settled by a decisive battle. As you and the other members of the Administration are in danger, Good Father, I beg you to come to us here. . . . I trust that this letter will reach you; I am sending it via England. [This letter reached Nivelles on August 20.]

In February of the following year (1915), Meyer wrote to Schleich. “In 1870 I had experiences similar to those through which you are now passing. We were then at Courtefontaine, and the Germans had occupied the city for a week or two. . . . It is not possible to forget the scenes which took place before our very eyes at that time.” However, as a citizen of an officially neutral country, Meyer was careful to reserve judgment on events, especially because the news was sketchy at best. “For some time now,” he told Hiss in the fall of that year, “the French government has been opening our letters. As we are in a neutral country and because I am an American citizen, it seems to me that such procedure violates legality. What do you think? In any case, I will be careful to send only information on our works, for we are not engaged in politics; we should be able to correspond freely.” A few months later (January 22, 1916) he stated his policy clearly. “In my letters I refrain from speaking of the war and content myself with referring to matters that concern our family. As I am in a neutral country, I am careful to avoid anything that might violate the laws of neutrality.”

Before these letters of 1915‐16, however, there had been a complete break in communications for some six months, from August 1914 to February 1915. During that time Meyer attempted to send letters to the GA via England and Spain, as well as directly to Belgium via Ostende or Brussels, and even through American diplomatic channels. Eventually news arrived that the GA was safe and had settled on Fribourg as its center of operations. Writing to Hiss, then in Rome visiting the pope, Meyer exclaimed (February 13, 1915), Thanks be to God and to Mary we can again communicate with our superiors after an interruption of six months. Some have been returned to me, others have not. Have these latter reached you, especially two which were sent with official American correspondence? [No.] One of our friends in Washington promised to render us this service.

95 And he renewed his invitation to the GA to come to America. “This would be a way for you to make a visitation here and at the same time to ensure your safety.”

Still hearing nothing directly, he wrote again (March 31). “Have you received the letters and documents we sent? We have had no response from the GA for seven months except for some letters informing us that the good God and the Blessed Virgin have taken good care of our superiors.” Perhaps some of the missing correspondence went down with the Lusitania; in June of 1915 Meyer wrote to Hiss. It is well‐nigh impossible to know whether some of our letters were on the Lusitania. As for the tragic torpedoing of the ship, it is greatly deplored here; the Germans have lost the sympathy of a goodly number of Americans. Certainly, with the violation of Belgian neutrality and other excesses, this latest does little to improve the reputation of the Germans. May the good God put an end to this war.

Horrified by the events of the war and uncertain often even of what was in fact taking place in Europe (“In Fribourg,” he told Hiss, “you will be better able to know what is happening,” for “the news we receive is questionable.”), Meyer resorted to prayers for peace. This theme recurs in almost all his letters of this period. In his of February 20, 1915, he reported with obvious satisfaction, “The President of the United States has ordered public prayers [for peace], and the Sunday of the Holy Rosary has been chosen as the most suitable day.” In April he wrote to Hiss; “We continue with our work here on a day‐by‐day basis as though the war did not exist; but we pray always for peace.” Reflecting on the young French brothers who had been called to the colors, he added, “May the Prince of Peace soon restore the peace so ardently desired by the people of all nationalities” (June 17, 1915). And when he invited Lebon, Head of Zeal, to come to Dayton for the consecration of the new Mount St. John chapel, he assured him, “We continue to pray constantly for peace” (June 25, 1915).

In sending early greetings for the New Year (November 13, 1916), he wrote, “We also express our hopes for the cessation of the great trial which afflicts Europe, and we hope that the year 1917, the year of our Centenary, will bring us peace so that the nations, after this chastisement, may turn their eyes toward the good God to glorify him; this is our daily prayer.”

The difficulties of communication are not the only side effects of the war that surface in Meyer’s correspondence. He refers also to the economic consequences, which manifested themselves little by little. Already in April of 1915 he wrote to Hiss, “We do indeed experience the consequences of the war; business is stagnant and many

96 manufacturers are paralyzed.” Matters became progressively worse. During the winter of 1917‐18, St. Mary’s College [Dayton] was forced to suspend classes for lack of heating fuel. “This is the result of the war,” Meyer told Hiss (January 23, 1918). “The people are suffering with great patience the privations imposed, and the young men who are recruited for the armed forces are certainly a credit to the country. Their conduct, their courage, and their obedience are admirable. May the Prince of Peace soon give us a permanent peace which will prove satisfactory to all.”

A month later (February 21, 1918), he assured Hiss that matters were not too bad. “ At present we have enough fuel for several months. And so far, food has not been in shortage. Considering that it is wartime, we are quite well off.” Apparently Father Ott, the novicemaster, had reported to the GA that the novices were suffering from the effects of the fuel shortage. From his location on visitation at Smulders High School, Detroit, Meyer wrote to the GA in Fribourg, “His complaint concerning the fuel has little foundation. We have indeed suffered a little, but very little by comparison with other families” (May 1, 1918). However, a few months later he is not nearly so optimistic. “We are beginning to feel the effects of the war. Everything is very costly, and we are having difficulty making ends meet with our large family. The interest [on the loans for Mount St. John] consumes much of our income.”

More serious than the economic situation were the repercussions on travel. Meyer had planned to send two young religious (Renneker and May) to the seminary in Fribourg. On August 11, 1915, he reported to Hiss, “The Dutch consul has granted them visas. And we have high hopes that the German consul in Cincinnati will do likewise. However, the French consul has received instructions not to grant visas to Americans born of German parents. The great majority of our religious are born of parents having immigrated from Germany or from Alsace, and as Alsace is in the hands of the Germans, they are all treated the same.” Eventually both men received clearance. But two years later, after America’s entry into the war, he was less successful. “We had intended to send two brothers to Fribourg, but [French] Ambassador Jusseraud wrote us that it is not easy to get permission for Americans with German names to pass through France. So we decided it would be better to have them [Elbert and Preisinger] stay here” (August 12, 1917). There was some consideration of sending them to Catholic U., but they were assigned to study at St. Mary’s College in preparation for post‐war enrollment in Fribourg.

Travel to Japan, too, was affected. Schleich had come from Fribourg to the States as official “Visitor,” and he and Janning were to leave for the Orient. Meyer wrote (July 27, 1917) that “the draft, the war, the German names—all is taken into account. The Visitor himself has not yet received his [visa]. Janning . . . was told to wait until the end of the

97 draft. So it is the war which presents these obstacles to our plans. . . . I wrote to Ambassador Jusseraud to see whether it was possible to obtain a passport [i.e., visa] for France for Americans with German names; so far there has been no response.”

Five weeks later. “Our dear visitor is still with us; he has had difficulty getting his passport from the authorities, but I think he will have it within a few days. The same for Bro. Joseph Janning. Since we received this week the decision of the Attorney General of the Governor of Ohio concerning exemption [from the draft], we are sure he will be able to get his passport before much longer.”

The draft laws passed by Congress as hostilities edged the US closer into the conflict were the cause of considerable concern to Meyer, affecting as they might not only many of the younger brothers but, consequently, the ability to continue to staff the schools. From Brooklyn he wrote to Hiss in May of 1917. The registration passed by Congress has called us to Washington. Bro. Michael [Schleich] and I have tried to convert a number of senators and representative to our side. The Brothers of the Christian Schools have been working with us. It is very probable that our religious as well as other religious brothers will be exempted [from the draft] as ministers of religion. The Bill before the House has this text: “All regular or ordained ministers are exempt.” That of the Senate reads, “All ordained ministers are exempt.” The final law as not yet been formulated. Everything depends on the interpretation that the President and the Secretary of War give to the law. A friendly representative has already spoken of the matter to the President and suggested to him that all religious teachers be exempted as ministers of religion; His Excellency looked very favorably on this proposal.

Shortly thereafter (May 19, 1917), he announced, “We are studying the implications of the draft. The law which has just been passed seems fairly broad. It says, ‘All regular or ordained ministers of religion are exempt, and also students of acknowledged theological establishments.’ The first part of the law covers religious who teach religion or are in charge of Sodalities.”

This law, he continued ten days later, . . . is certainly favorable, for in the mind of the legislators the word “minister of religion” refers to persons who are occupied with teaching or forming in religion, who devote themselves to religion. Our Bishops and a good number of attorneys understand the law in this sense. Yet it was important to call upon a number of

98 these persons. Brother Michael has been most helpful. Next Tuesday the registration goes into effect, and after that the cases of exemption will be decided.

In September he was able to report, “ The governor has issued a letter in which he declares that the Brothers of Mary who dedicate themselves to education and to the spread of religion are ministers of religion and therefore are exempt from military service. Deo gratias et Mariae! Even our Working Brothers and our novices are exempt.”

Responding to Hiss’ concerns, he reassured him in a letter of March 13, 1918, “I do not think there is cause to be unduly disturbed over the matter of military service. Our excellent government exempts both ministers of religion and theologians, that is, students of theology.”

Meanwhile, the Archbishop of Cincinnati, concerned that St. Mary’s College might not be recognized as a legitimate “school of theology,” withdrew his nine seminarians who were pursuing their studies there. “A week later,” Meyer informed Hiss (September 17, 1918), “The government sent me a dispatch saying that we continue to be recognized as a school of divinity and that, therefore, the seminarians could have remained. But they had already left.”

The government’s decision that St. Mary’s College would be recognized as a “school of divinity” for theology students enrolled there was not the only way in which the institution was directly affected by the wartime activities. Engineering students also were exempted from immediate draft, as Meyer explained to Hiss (February 27, 1918) some ten months after America’s entry into the war. “We have obtained from the government that the young men taking the engineering courses may complete their course of studies before being called to the colors. This is a great favor”, and we obtained it through the good offices of our Governor.

During that summer (1918) it became clear that the government fully intended to prepare those young men for rapid incorporation into the armed forces upon their graduation. It asked that “the college send ten young men, along with an instructor, naturally one of the brothers, to Camp Sherman for military training for two months beginning July 18. . . . These young me with their instructor are then to train other students of the college during the scholastic year” (Meyer to Hiss, July 7, 1918). In a letter three days later, Meyer expressed his own sentiments on the matter. According to government directives, nine of our young men and one Instructor will have the privilege of going to Fort Sheridan [sic] for special courses. We thought it best to accept, as all the colleges are being asked to engage in military

99 exercises. The government has mounted considerable activity, and the populace responds willingly to all appeals. It is truly admirable. I have never seen a people so determined as ours to put an end to the war and to have a durable peace. No sacrifice is too great; and with our resources and especially with the help of the good God to whom our President prays in the name of the people, I have no doubt as to the final result.

With the reopening of regular classes in the fall, St. Mary’s College found itself integrated into the military establishment. In September Meyer updated Hiss. Already yesterday [the 16th] a hundred student soldiers arrived; they are boarders. More than a hundred others will be day‐students until the government completes two buildings for them, between the laundry and the stable, where the barn had been before it burnt down. The government is paying for the construction and also pays [the college] $1.35 per student soldier per day besides giving the student soldiers $30.00 per month. . . . An officer from Washington is in charge with sub‐officers chosen from among the students. The eight students who went to Camp Sheridan with Bro. L. Reinbold will probably be those sub‐ officers.

Apparently having heard some European misgivings concerning the American Expeditionary Forces, Meyer was quick to defend them. “Our young men are performing very well in France. They are brave and very enthusiastic. Certainly Europeans did not know them well; here, on the contrary, we knew they would fight courageously” (to Hiss, Sept. (?), 1918).

Not only the college but the high schools, too, were affected by the war. At Philadelphia, for example, camps were opened for high school students “so they might work on the farms to raise food, both for us and for our allies. We have taken charge of one of those camps. Bros. A. Mueller and Aloise Elbert have students under their charge; their spiritual needs will be taken care of” (Meyer to Hiss, May 9, 1918).

Meyer was drawn more closely into the affairs of the military as the armed forces expanded in the war effort. Casting about for military chaplains, Bishop Patrick J. Hayes, Military Ordinary for the United States, wrote to the heads of religious orders. Meyer kept Hiss abreast of the situation. At the time, Congress was considering legislation for a universal draft which would have included the drafting of clergy. Some congressmen were asking “why do not the American priests follow the example of their brothers in Europe, bearing arms as common soldiers.” Since the clergy in fact were not being drafted, they were at least expected to provide service as chaplains.

100

Meyer noted that the military desired one chaplain for every 1,200 soldiers. As the army was composed forty percent of Catholics, there was immediate need of 450 chaplains. While awaiting some policy decision on the matter by the GA, Meyer advised Hayes that the Cincinnati Province had only 13 priests, of whom five were over 50 years old (February 27, 1918). “Nevertheless,” he wrote, “we are willing to make any sacrifice for the young men who so generously and cheerfully offer their lives for the welfare of our country.”

In May, having heard from the GA, Meyer and his council informed Hayes that the Cincinnati Province was willing to place one of its priests at his disposal. The question as to which one almost answered itself. Shortly after having heard of Hayes’ request, Fr. John Ott, novicemaster, had offered himself for the position. Ott’s brother, Adam, “the only support of Mother,” had been drafted and classified 1A. His claim for exemption had been filed, but (as of February 1918, when Ott made his offer) his appeal had not been granted. Perhaps, among other considerations, Ott hope that his offer of chaplaincy might incline the Draft Board to consider more leniently his brother’s appeal.

At any rate, by early July Ott was accepted by the government as a military chaplain with the grade of first lieutenant. On the fifth, he reported to Battle Creek, Mich., (“not far from Chicago,” according to Meyer) for basic training. “He was required,” Meyer informed the GA on July 3, “to insure his life. This insurance could not be in favor of a corporation, but only of an individual. I told him to make his mother the beneficiary.” As to the practice of the vow of poverty in his new situation, Ott was told by Meyer to use his own judgment and to submit a quarterly statement to the Provincial Council. From Battle Creek, in September Ott was transferred to active duty at Camp Fremont in Menlo Park, California.

At this same time, another Marianist was also transferred to California, to Camp Kearney in San Diego. He was nJea ‐Pierre Sicard, a French brother. Born in 1886, he professed first vows in 1903 and had spent some time at the Dayton scholasticate in 1904. He had served in communities in France, Spain, and Japan. By 1918 he was in the French armed services and was stationed at Camp Wheeler, Macon, Ga., as Military Instructor. In February he wrote to Meyer thanking him for letters received and asking for copies of the Apostle of Mary and of St. Mary’s Exponent.

The two kept in touch. Over the Easter holidays Sicard obtained a furlough and spent a week with the brothers in Cleveland and Dayton. “He made a good impression, received Holy Communion every day” (to Hiss, March 18). In San Diego Sicard was the

101 instructor of four regiments. He left the Society of Mary on Feb. 14, 1919, while still in the military. (In Sept, 1918, Meyer completed his term as Provincial and became novicemaster.)

102 Part V: Property. Asset? Or Liability?

Chapter Twenty‐two The Other “Saint‐Remy”

The name “Saint‐Remy” is certainly well known in our Marianist traditions. Its very mention resonates with images of impetuous, over‐imaginative, revolutionary‐turned‐ loyalist David Monier, and patient, forbearing, and Providence‐trusting Chaminade. It was the first foundation of the Society of Mary in northeastern France and, under such men as Clouzet, Lalanne, Chevaux and others, it soon became an important and impressive center of the Society’s activities there. What is less well known, at least among American Marianists, is that there is another Saint‐Remy in our history.

Among the foundations in Alsace following upon the first Saint‐Remy was that of Ebersmuenster, founded in 1835 as a house of formation for the northeast areas of France. In 1844, Brother Girardet became the director of the establishment and continued in this function for 25 years. He was succeeded in 1869 by Bro. Joseph Meyer, who was to double that term as director of postulants. In that year (1869), the house counted 62 postulants, 35 novices, and 25 scholastics. Five years later (1874), in the aftermath of the Franco‐Prussian War, the postulants were forced to leave Ebersmuenster.

A new postulate was established at Bourogne, France, near Belfort, midway between Besançon and Mulhouse and not far from the Swiss border at Porrentruy. At the end of the century it was a flourishing house under the exceptional leadership of Brother Meyer. By that time, however, it was clear that the anti‐clericals within the French government were determined to destroy the influence of the Church in the education of French youth. By July of 1901 the fate of the private Catholic schools was sealed as the government moved to close and confiscate all institutions administered by non‐ authorized religious orders. (Soon the SM would be “de‐authorized.”)

In October of that year the Provincial Administration of the Province of Alsace, anticipating coming events, prepared to move the postulate again. The local superiors were advised to begin packing books and whatever other effects were not absolutely essential at the moment and to ready them for transportation to a new location outside the reach of the French laws of confiscation. In February of 1903, the General Administration purchased for 33,000 francs a suitable property in Luxembourg—not the Grand Duchy, but the neighboring Luxembourg Province of Belgium, “near Alsace and

103 France.” The property was located in the diocese of Namur, in the canton of Virton, in the commune of Bleid, near the tiny village of Saint‐Remy.

Although so small (it counted only 150 inhabitants) that it did not even have its own post office (mail was directed to Saint‐Remy “via Signeulx”), Saint‐Remy was conveniently located, being only one kilometer from the rail line connecting Arthus and Virton and having its own station. It was, in fact, less than a kilometer (“some 600 or 700 meters”) from the French border. The entire village was Catholic, and the young and energetic pastor had recently renovated the parish church with funds raised through his own efforts. The liturgy was well‐celebrated there, with cantors and a choir of a dozen young women trained by the pastor himself. One of the brothers reported that it was “a pleasure to take part in the [Divine] Office.”

The newly‐acquired property had belonged to the Gerlache family, famous in Belgian political history. In 1830 its head had been a member of the Constitutional Commission and President of the House of Representatives in the reconstituted government. It was occupied in 1903 by Mlle Franquinet de Gerlache and her brother Albert. The estate covered some 15 acres, most of them open field and a somewhat neglected garden. It included a small creek (named Saint‐Remy) and extended to the nearby rail line. The main building was the residence, called the “chateau,” and forming a courtyard with it were two sets of secondary buildings perpendicular to it. These included barns, stables, carriage garages, a bake‐house and a sheep‐fold. These latter structures, too high for their meager foundations, were not solidly built.

Dating from 1666, the chateau was, on the contrary, large and well‐constructed. It measured esom 92 feet in length and 33 feet in depth, each of its two stories having a height of some ten feet. Its walls varied somewhat in thickness, being a little under to a little over three feet. The windows of the first floor were barred, “giving it a bit the appearance of a prison.” The older generation of Saint‐Remy held that the chateau had at one time been surrounded by a moat and pointed to the large stonework over the door which, they claimed, had anchored a drawbridge.

Three weeks after the purchase of the property (it was March 13, 1903), 80‐year‐old Brother Kopp, steward at Bourogne and formerly at Ebersmuenster, arrived at Saint‐ Remy to take possession of the new acquisition. The Gerlache family received him graciously and gave him a tour of the premises. He was not too impressed: although the chateau was indeed large and well‐built, it would need considerable renovation and adaptation before it could be put to its new purpose. Moreover, there was no room large enough to serve as a chapel for the postulant community. Kopp and Brother Hergott settled in to prepare the place. From Bourogne, and from other Marianist

104 houses in France, shipments of furniture, books, and clothing began to arrive. In fact, at Bourogne and at other places, when the government confiscators arrived to take inventory they found empty buildings—often even the doors and windows had “disappeared”!

Early in April three more religious arrived at Saint‐Remy from Bourogne, including the cook who prepared his meals on a stove graciously loaned to the community by the local pastor. A few days later (Good Friday, April 10), the government Gazette published the decree rescinding the Society’s 1825 royal authorization, thereby declaring it nonexistent and all its claims to property null and void. A “liquidator,” the (eventually) infamous Duez, was named whose task it was to take inventory of all such properties, claim them in behalf o the government, and then offer them for sale at auction.

On Easter Tuesday (the 14th), a government agent arrived at the postulate of Bourogne to notify the community that the house was to be closed and the community was to vacate the premises within the week. The brothers and postulants calmly continued with their work of packing, which had by now been going on for some weeks. That evening at night prayer after supper, the postulants were brought up to date on the latest developments and were informed that they were to return to their families to await further instructions. The following day the postulants packed their personal belongings, and on the 16th, in a violent downpour of snow and rain and amidst tearful farewells, ythe headed for the train station of Montrevieux. The stationmaster and the railroad employees, touched by the sight of the 70 young men being exiled in their own country, remarked loudly that they should at least have been allowed to finish the school year in peace.

During the seven days of “grace” granted to the community, everything that could possibly be moved was packed and sent off to Saint‐Remy. When the same government agent returned at the end of the week to see whether or not his orders had been carried out, he found only four religious (including the Provincial) and buildings that had been completely stripped. Outraged, he blustered, threatening to have the religious “brought to justice” for having violated the laws of confiscation.

Shortly after the closure of Bourogne, Good Father Simler visited Saint‐Remy to review the work being done and to encourage the brothers in charge of the renovations. Time was now indeed of the essence. “It was not a matter of doing the job well, but of moving ahead quickly, being satisfied with the strictly necessary and keeping down the expenses.” (It should be remembered that practically the entire income of the French

105 religious was cut off by the sudden loss of all their schools. Meanwhile, the religious had to be supported and the elderly and ill cared for.)

On April 21, Simler returned for another visit and approved the plans for a chapel. On June 1, Meyer arrived from Bourogne, again an exile, to administer the new postulate at Saint‐Remy. By the time Simler arrived for a third visit on June 22, most of the furnishings from Bourogne had found their new location at Saint‐Remy. However, the work of renovation proceeded slowly. There were few “professional” workmen in the area, each farmer being accustomed to doing his own construction and renovation as needed. Besides, unseasonably frequent rains had slowed down work outdoors. In addition to building the chapel, it was necessary to extend the chateau into the garden area with a study hall and classrooms.

During the month, more displaced religious had arrived, to the number of a dozen or so. Unaccustomed as most of them were to manual labor and construction work, they devoted themselves as best they could to learning carpentry, masonry, locksmith work, cabinet making, wall‐papering and painting. And almost every day there were wagonloads of material to collect at the train station and to unload after a day’s labor on the construction site.

By the end of August, construction and renovation had progressed enough that letters could be sent to the former postulants of Bourogne (and of Belfort) inviting them to return—if they were disposed to go into exile, to prepare themselves for an unknown and unpredictable future, and to go wherever Providence might eventually call them. With that understanding they were to report to Saint‐Remy on September 8 (1903), the Nativity of Mary. They were given instructions regarding the mailing address of Saint‐ Remy and regarding the rather convenient train connections they could make from Alsace (Mulhouse, Strasbourg, and Metz to Bettenbourg, in Luxembourg, changing there to the Arthus‐Virton line). Meanwhile, final preparations were made to have the classrooms, dormitory, refectory, and chapel ready for them.

Departing Mulhouse at 10:30 in the morning, some 45 postulants arrived at Saint‐Remy at 6:30 p.m. on the date assigned. Their first impressions of their new home were apparently not very favorable. The prison‐like building was forbidding, the chapel was not yet completed, and the dark low‐ceilinged dining‐room did little to raise their spirits at suppertime. In the dormitory, however, they were surprised and delighted to find . . . spring mattresses! During the first week there were classes in the morning and walks in the surrounding neighborhood in the afternoons. The number of postulants rose to 51, and they soon settled into the routine rof thei new life in a foreign land.

106 On October 1, patronal feast of the village of Saint‐Remy, all the community participated in the commemorative ceremonies. On the tenth there was a departure ceremony in the parish church for three brothers headed for China, two of whom had blood brothers among the postulants. By mid‐December the chapel was completed. It was inaugurated with a High Mass presided over by the Provincial. The papal flag and those of France and Belgium had places of honor. The postulants sang a Mass of Stehle, and the final Te Deum was led by the dean of the clergy of the area.

In 1906 the postulate of Saint‐Remy was placed under the administration of the Province of Paris (rather than Alsace). That same year, Brother Kopp celebrated his 60 years of Marianist life, and four years later Brother Meyer retired after, as he himself declared, “having been a postulant for fifty years.” During those days, at Ebersmuenster, Bourogne, and Saint‐Remy, some 1,380 postulants had passed under his care. He retired to Monstreux and was name Honorary Councilor to the General Administration.

Life at Saint‐Remy continued routinely enough. When the postulants were home on summer vacation, the temporary professed came to Saint‐Remy to follow special courses. In 1913, a new building was constructed alongside the chateau, providing expanded and better accommodations for the candidates. The new structure was blessed on February 2, 1914, just as Europe was moving unwittingly toward a new conflagration.

The outbreak of hostilities almost immediately touched neutral Belgium as the Kaiser’s forces moved to invade France. All too soon the area around Namur found itself occupied by the Germans, and the Franco‐Belgium frontier was closed. A German patrol was housed in the village of Saint‐Remy, while across the border the French populace was starving, priestless, their homes in ruins. A fierce battle between French and German troops took place nearby, on August 22 (1915), with bullets and shells striking the chateau; brothers and postulants, after consuming the Blessed Sacrament for fear the chapel might be desecrated, huddled in the cellar. Some 1,400 French soldiers died in the exchange of gunfire, one regiment of 250 losing 235 men.

The horrors of war were very real. The village of Ethe, tiny neighbor of Saint‐Remy, was burned to the ground by the Germans: it was “completely reduced to ashes with only a few houses left standing. e. . . Of th parish church, only the four walls remain; the sculpted images of Christ in the Way of the Cross have been grossly mutilated.” Before torching the church the German soldiers broke open the tabernacle and profaned the Sacred Species in the plaza in front of the church.. The civilian victims at Ethe, almost the entire population, numbered 211, including 22 married women (leaving 115

107 orphans), 45 men over 60 years of age, 17 over 70, and 2 over 80, plus 30 children, of whom a dozen were under five years of age. The pastor of nearby Mussy‐la‐ville was executed at the doorway of his church, while civilians of his village were shot indiscriminately and their houses torched by German troops.

At nearby Lagouf, 71 men of the 78 living in the hamlet were pressed into duty to gather the wounded from the battlefield. Armed with a safe‐conduct from the German general, wearing Red Cross armbands, and with two priests leading the column of ambulances, they were nonetheless massacred near burning Ethe by a roving band of German troops. In the little village of Gomery (in the same commune as Saint‐Remy) one hundred wounded French troops huddles in a private home under the “protection” of the Red Cross. Victorious enemy troops, manhandling doctors and nurses, forced the wounded out of the building, which was then set afire. The French, unarmed, were lined against the nearby cemetery wall and executed in full view of the whole civilian population (some 200 persons) herded there by the Germans.

By October it seemed more prudent to close down the house of formation. The last group of postulants, 28 of them shepherded by the father of one of them, left for Alsace on the 28th. One lone postulant remained, his home village being occupied by the French and hence, from the German point of view, in “enemy hands.” He was later able to find refuge with the brothers at Reves (Belgium).

For the remainder of the war the community at Saint‐Remy was completely cut off from the rest of the Society. Not until September of 1918, for example, did they receive word of the Pontifical Letter honoring eth Centenary of our Foundation. By that time, Saint‐ Remy had become a novitiate, the novices having come there from Cortil in June of that year. During the five yearsʹ interim since the departure of the postulants, portions of the property of Saint‐Remy had been sublet, but unfortunately to “undesirable tenants.”

After the war the horrors of which Saint‐Remy had been a witness were commemorated with appropriate ceremonies and with the building of various monuments in the area. In addition to a number of military cemeteries in the area, the French government erected on the outskirts of Ethe an imposing monument to its soldiers. A “memorial to the civilians,” sponsored by the governments of Belgium, France, and Luxembourg, took the form of a graceful Greek temple located on the hillside opposite the village. On the façade of the “temple” are inscribed the name and age of each of the victims of the massacre of Ethe.

At Signeulx there is a military cemetery containing the remains of French forces, 495 enlisted men and 16 officers. And at Gomery, on the very spot where the unarmed

108 wounded French were annihilated, a joint Franco‐Belgium committee built an imposing granite monument with the names of the dead in letters of gold and surmounted by a large cross. For many years after the cessation of hostilities, annual memorial services were held at these sites, in which the novices of Saint‐Remy took an active part.

By 1923 the house at Saint‐Remy became a joint novitiate and Working Brother scholasticate. The Working Brothers had religion classes in the early morning, after which they worked under their respective “heads” until noon. In the afternoon there was more work, as well as practical and professional classes—arithmetic, accounting, hygiene, care of the sick, woodworking, metal work, animal husbandry, farming, etc. The following year a fire broke out in the carpentry shop and quickly spread to the refectory. The entire village rushed to the rescue and, aided by a change of wind direction, was able to save the chateau.

Among the novices in 1924 was a 40‐year‐old postulant who before the war had been doorkeeper at St. Mary’s College in Dayton and had planned to enter the novitiate at Mount St. John as soon as he could free himself from family commitments. Recalled to France to serve in the military and no longer bound by family commitments, Octave Mounier was finally able to apply for the novitiate . . . at Saint‐Remy instead. In the following year, there were 12 Working Brother scholastics and 49 novices at the chateau. By 1928, there were 64 novices (for the Provinces of Franche‐Comté, Paris, and Midi) and 14 scholastics—with only six toilets in the entire complex! The provincial authorities and the General Administration began to make plans to divide the novices and to relocate some of them elsewhere—perhaps even in Italy, at Pallanza (at that time still part of the Province of Alsace).

Father Schellhorn had been appointed novicemaster in 1920. With his death in 1935, he was succeeded by Father Hilzendager, and he in turn by Father Pierson. The year 1939 found Saint‐Remy again in the path of invading German armies. In November nearby cannon shots could be heard. At the time there were 37 novices (from France, Switzerland, Belgium, and Poland), 14 religious, and several Working Brother scholastics, and Pierson reported to the GA that “it is no fun for the one who bears the responsibility for all these young men.” Many parents of the candidates were uneasy, for the calm of the “phony war” was expected to erupt into “something” by springtime (1940).

In February the GA decided that the novices should move to Reves, and only a small community of brothers would remain to manage the property. In fact, Saint‐Remy was once again overrun by the German forces. In March of 1943 the chateau was turned into a “shelter” for handicapped and retarded children displaced by the war. The shelter

109 was sponsored by the diocese and had its own staff and director. The first group of children numbered 25, aged from seven to fourteen. There was common purchasing and a common kitchen for them and for the religious community, but finding sufficient food and water was often a problem.

This first group was relocated by December of 1944, but some 80 refugees from the battle for Bastogne took their place. The following June another group of children, 46 of them, were housed in the chateau. At the end of hostilities, the GA decided to discontinue permanently the novitiate of Saint‐Remy; the “shelter” would be permitted to remain on the premises until August of 1946. In July of 1945 there were some 90 people housed at Saint‐Remy: 43 children of the “shelter,” some 20 or more displaced persons, a group of 15 boy scouts and girl scouts, in addition to the religious community.

The Marianists withdrew from this “other Saint‐Remy” in 1946, thus closing another interesting and somewhat tumultuous chapter in the history of our houses of formation.

110 Chapter Twenty‐three On the East Coast

(At about the same time the Marianists in France were negotiating the purchase of Saint‐Remy Signeulx in Belgium, the Marianists in America were trying to unload a property in New Jersey.)

The incorporation of the Society of Mary in America as a noncommercial association in the State of Ohio in 1863 did not mean the end of complications relative to matters of real estate. As Fr. George Meyer wrote to Good Father Hiss in 1909, “I assure you that property holders in this country have their problems.”

In 1875 the Marianists had acquired a farm near Paterson, New Jersey, as part of a long‐ range plan for a possible house of formation on the East Coast. Chevaux, Superior General at the time, took title to the property in the name of the Society of Mary. Since he was in Paris, he delegated to Reinbolt, Provincial of the American Province, necessary powers‐of‐attorney to sign in his name. Some 30 years later (1906) the superiors at Dayton decided to sell the property, which was producing a profit of only some $80.00 per year. The asking price was set at $5,000, but no buyers appeared. A year later an offer was received of $4,000, and two years after that (1909) an offer at the asking price.

But at once difficulties surfaced: the “deed” did not indicate the Society as owner, but only Simler, who had “bought” the property from Chevaux. To the attorneys involved, at first the solution seemed simple enough: a sale could be effected by the Superior General (Hiss) as successor to Simler. The prospective buyer was a certain Salesio, who was already farming the land and renting it at $10.00 a month. In a letter dated January 14, 1910, Meyer wrote to Hiss that the papers of transfer of title would be prepared and sent to Nivelles (the GA having been forced to move from Paris by that time) for signatures by the members of the GA and for review by the American consul at Brussels.

But two months later, writing to Brother Schleich, Inspector‐General, Meyer brought to his attention a further obstacle. Last week I went to Paterson to settle the sale—but to my surprise I was told there is a flaw in the deed. Father Chevaux sold the property to Father Simler, and Father Reinbolt was the attorney‐in‐fact. Now, the power of attorney of Father Reinbolt is not recorded in Paterson, or rather in Passaic County. I have to see whether it is recorded in Dayton, and if not, we have to see whether the

111 General Administration has it; and if it cannot be found, we will be obliged to go to the heirs of Father Chevaux. The deed, I mean the primitive deed, was made in the name of Father Chevaux and not of his successor in office—hence the sale for $1.00 to Father Simler.

Another two months later (May 18) Meyer wrote to Hiss that he had received letters from Paterson asking for Chevaux’s delegation of power‐of‐attorney to Reinbolt. “It is not among our files. I will go to Troy today to see whether it is registered there. Father Reinbolt sold Piqua to the Holy Ghost Fathers, and perhaps it is registered in the county in which Piqua is located.”

On the same date, Meyer informed Schleich that “The Paterson property is well‐ entangled; unless the Power of Attorney of Father Reinbolt can be found, it may take years before we can make a deed that has no clouds. All the heirs, the natural heirs of Father Chevaux, must be consulted. Perhaps it is better to call off the sale.” By October, he was more optimistic. “We are trying to rectify the deed to Paterson. Father McNulty is helping us, and I think we shall have success.” And on December 2, he told the Good Father, “Tomorrow I am going to Paterson. According to the latest developments, it is likely that we may finally be able to terminate the sale.”

Such optimism proved premature. Four days later Meyer reported to Hiss. To my great regret, the lawyers are asking that we make a serious attempt to find the heirs of Good Father Chevaux, although I told them that would be impossible. The deed is truly clouded. It is in the name of Jean‐Joseph Chevaux, without even “Rev.,” and because the transfer from Good Father Chevaux to Good Father Simler took place four years after the death of the former, Chevaux’s delegation of Reinbolt was no longer valid. We explained to our attorney, Mr. Dunn, a Catholic, our situation in France and the spoliations of which the Society has been the victim. He said that because it is clear that the Society of Mary paid for the property and that Father Chevaux acted for and in favor of the Society, he will prepare a special bill for the Senate and House of the State of New Jersey. The bill will provide that properties such as this, having been honestly bought and paid for, will belong, in cases where the deed is faulty, to the organization which paid for them, without requiring that the English law be applied which states that if there is no will [such] properties shall pass to the nearest of kin. Such action will take place in January when the Assembly reconvenes.

112 The Paterson affair continued to drag on. The following year, 1911, saw no progress. By March of 1912 the search for Chevaux’s heirs had proved fruitless, and Meyer was certain that the sale could be finalized on his next visit to the East Coast communities in May. On May 17 he met with the attorneys and named Bro. Bornhorn “trustee” authorized to conclude the sale in his name. Shortly after Meyer’s return to Dayton, however, he was informed by the same attorneys that he was required to come in person to offer proof that the Society had indeed paid for the property and that Chevaux had been merely its trustee or agent. To Hiss, Meyer remarked, “It is indeed difficult to restore titles once they have been clouded!”

Again in Paterson in early June, Meyer appeared in Judge Van Cleve’s court. “The judge was very kind toward us,” he later wrote to Scheich. For two hours he was questioned about the original purchase, about Chevaux and Reinbolt and Simler; he was asked to prove the Society had indeed paid for the property. Fortunately he had found record of the purchase in Brother Litz’s account books. That, together with the personnel of 1875, “were the best vouchers.” Salesio meanwhile stood ready to pay $4,000 in cash toward the total price.

It was not until mid‐February of 1913, however, that Meyer could write to Hiss, “The final chapter of the sale of our property at Paterson has been written.” The Secretary of State for New Jersey had handed down the decision that no heirs having been found to Chevaux the property therefore belonged to the Society of Mary, which had paid its purchase price and now possessed clear title. Salesio immediately paid $4,000 with a promissory note for the rest payable within two and one‐half years. Attorney and court costs, which the Society had to pay, came to $700.

With the consent of the GA the proceeds of the sale were divided between the two American Provinces, the one struggling to pay the cost of Mount St. John, the other struggling to rebuilt its novitiate at Ferguson, recently destroyed by fire.

113 Chapter Twenty‐four On the West Coast

On May 19, 1923, the headline in the Santa Cruz Gazette read “Big Deal Closed for SCD Property”

Papers were signed yesterday, whereby Frank T. Blake, owner of Linwood Ranch, has sold his entire holdings, 300 acres going to the Society of Mary, generally known as the Brothers, a Roman Catholic organization. In talking to one of the Brothers, he stated to our reporter that more space was needed and a place for teaching the Brothers in California. There are at present two schools in San Francisco, one in Stockton, and one in San Jose. The property is to be used as a summer home at present, and later on will be turned into a preparatory normal school for the Pacific Coast. This will obviate sending the Brothers, as at present, to New York or to the St. Louis schools, as is being done at present. Plans eventually will include a large boarding college on the Pacific Coast. The consideration is something over $100,000. [Actually $50,000!] for the 300 acres being purchased, independent of the dairy which comprises 100 acres and was sold to another party. The dairy has no connection with the Society. Headquarters for the Society of Mary was formerly in Paris, but later moved to Nivelles, Belgium, and the organization has schools in every [sic!] country of the world. The ranch has practically been taken over by the Society and all papers signed, and the entire payment will be made in a few days. The Linwood Ranch property is one of the best in Santa Cruz County and is well known.

* * *

The following are Bro. Peter Maier’s notes on events leading to the purchase reported above.

July 22, 1922. Bros. Adam Peth, Joseph Quick, and myself, in company of Larocca and Mr. Mahoney, real estate agents of San Jose, were on our way to inspect a

114 property on the Watsonville Highway about ten miles from Santa Cruz. On our way Larocca called Mr. Blake from Santa Cruz; in passing we visited his place called Linwood Lodge and were so taken up with it that I at once wired Dayton, urging them to let me take an option pending their approval.

July 26 [sic]. Reply from Dayton stated that the Good Father [Hiss] had just died [July 27] and that no action could be taken until his successor had been chosen. We asked Mr. Blake to hold the property if possible, until the Provincial came out in the spring.

Dec. 26. Bros. Joseph Quick, John Schmitt, and myself made a trip to Linwood Lodge to see what it looked like after six inches of rainfall in one week. It was in finer shape that we could have hoped for; roads and paths in good repair, flowers blooming and apple trees full of fruit.

March 3,1923. Rev. B[ernard]. P. O’Reilly [Provincial], Bro. John Schmitt and myself visit Linwood Lodge. The Provincial enchanted with it wires Bro. Geo. Sauer [Inspector] to come out immediately and bring Bro. [George] Deck [treasurer] with him. Deal held up till March 12 to give them time to get here.

March 4. Mr. Blake visits me in San Francisco. I took him to St. Rose Church, where Father O’Rielly was saying Mass. Deal closed pending the approval of Bro. Geo. Sauer, but telegram arrives an hour later from Dayton saying we have no permission to buy and it would be useless for the Inspector to come out. I wired Mr. Blake that the deal was off, and he replied with a fine courteous letter which I sent to Stockton to the Provincial, March 5, suggesting that he cable Nivelles, which he did. On the 10th of March Father P.R. Lynch, S.F. cables Bro. Michael [Schleich, Inspector‐General] of Nivelles, urging the Administration not to miss this splendid opportunity.

March 13. Europe answers Rev. B.P. O’Reilly, “Await a letter at Dayton.”

March 30. Good Friday. Provincial wires from Dayton that Bros. Geo. Sauer and Geo. Deck will leave St. Louis on April 10 to inspect Linwood Lodge. If they approve, we buy.

April 17. Geo. Sauer, Geo. Deck and myself go [by train] to Santa Cruz. Met at depot by Francis T. Blake, royally received, inspected the property, paid a $2,000 option, pending approval from Europe.

115 May. Permission granted. Deeds signed, payment made, etc. Mr. August Wolf, hired by Blake at Bro. Deck’s suggestion, May 1, in charge as caretaker.

June 21. Brothers go down for vacation, chapel preparation, rooms made ready, etc. Father Cummins from Stockton acted as chaplain till retreat.

July 6‐11. retreat, preached by Rev. Father Jacobi, S.J. Jesuits from San Francisco chaplains.

‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐

The option was signed on April 19, 1923, in the presence of Ralph H. Smith, Notary Public, County of Santa Cruz: For and in consideration of the sum of TWO THOUSAND ($2,000) DOLLARS, the receipt of which is hereby acknowledged, I [Frank T. Blake] do hereby give and grant unto THE UNIVERSITY OF DAYTON, SOCIETY OF MARY, PROVINCE OF CINCINNATI, a corporation, the exclusive option to purchase all of the real property now owned by me in the County of Santa Cruz, State of California, and known as the LINWOOD RANCH, comprising about two hundred ninety (290) acres, excluding from said option and this agreement all of that portion of Linwood Ranch known as the “Dairy Ranch” . . . and for the further sum of Forty‐eight Thousand ($48,000.00) Dollars, cash. . . . I further agree to convey with said property and for the same purchase price all of the farm tools, farm machinery and household furniture now upon said premises, also one horse, named “Buster,” one wagon and harness.

* * *

[See original series for additional information on the property.]

* * *

In 1949, Bro. Leo Naeger at Mount St. John wrote a brief “history” of the Santa Cruz project based on “annals, letters . . . and personal interviews.” After a brief paragraph on the purchase, and another on a description of the buildings, he continued.

PLANS: The SM acquired the property in hopes of one day erecting there a big coastal boarding college, with provisions for a summer home for the Brothers and a preparatory normal school for candidates. But it was alleged that materials were costly,

116 and the hopes were never fully realized. A community was appointed to Santa Cruz in 1924, with Bro. Charles Knebel director and Father [Charles] Eichner chaplain and four others. They fixed up the property and started a farm. A new road entering the property was begun in 1929.

SANTA CRUZ VILLAGE SCHOOL: In 1928 Bros. [August] Fischer and [Victor] Knoer were stationed with the community and went down to the village school to teach 31 boys in the 7th and 8th grades, and 1st high classes. In 1929 the number of boys was 55, with second high added on. The nuns taught the other grades and the girls. The pastor, Father McGrath, later to become an affiliated member, supplied the Brothers with a closed Chevrolet and gave them a salary of 800 dollars.

CHAMINADE: Permission to erect a high school and gymnasium on our own property was obtained January 10, 1930. The school was an attractive two‐story frame stucco building, overlooking the town and at a distance Monterey Bay. Official dedication ceremonies were on September 14, with 2,700 visitors attending. School opened September 2nd, with 69 boys from Santa Cruz, Watsonville, and the surrounding country attending 7th, 8th, freshman, sophomore and junior years. The pastors supplied bus transportation for the boys. The attendance throughout the years always hovered between 50 and 80.

The gymnasium gave the boys a chance for recreation, exercise, and basketball. The sports program at first excluded football, but after considerable agitation the boys finally started a football team.

INCIDENTS: A new pastor, Father Galvin, was appointed in 1933. School opened with 53 students, with only the high school grades.

In 1936 a cemetery on a knoll north of the pump house was begun, with the first occupant being Bro. Charles Schaefer. His many friends and most of the Brothers came for his funeral. Then work began on removing the other California dead to the new SM cemetery.

There were several organizations that helped the school: a Chaminade Guild, Mothers Club, a Boosters Club (for men), C.A. clubs and Sodalities. The Mothers club always helped out with turkeys, card parties, breakfasts and the like. The Boosters Club had several barbecue parties, and in 1939 financed the leveling of the playground. Dedication ceremonies for the playground were on May 21, with 1,400 people attending.

117 FATHER CHAMINADE AND MARY: Because of the school’s name, the boys and parents had a great interest in Father Chaminade, and also, as a consequence, a strong devotion to Mary. January 22, or some day near it, was usually celebrated with a performance, distinguished speakers, and a free day. In 1933 Mr. [Al] Finn was cured from his sickness after a novena to Father Chaminade.

The Brothers often cooperated with the parishes on several Sodality Sundays. A friend of the Brothers, Father McElroy, had a devotional statue of the Blessed Virgin made in Italy according to the specification which Bros. Knebel and Maier presented to the priest. This donated statue was first placed in the lower park, but in 1931 it was placed in front of the school building.

FARMS: The garden, fields, and livestock, with the diligent work of the Working Brothers stationed there, proved a valuable asset to the community. The chickens, pigs and calves kept the community provided with meat. In 1939 the Brothers had 20 acres under cultivation, with 500 chickens in the well‐kept chick house.

PERSONNEL: The community of six started out in 1924 with Bro. Charles Knebel director and Father Eichner chaplain. Other directors at the school were Bro. Joseph Janning, 1930‐33, when he left for China; Bro. Herman Fien, from 1933‐39, and Bro. Austin Holian for the last school year. Other chaplains were Fr. Julius Falk, Fr. [Aloysius] Schratz (until his death in 1935), Fr. Francis May, Fr. [Charles] Bloemer, and Fr. Robert Brown. Bro. James Murphy was there from 1930 until his last illness. He was steward for some time. During his last illness in 1939 he stayed in the Sierras with an old friend of the Society, Msgr. Crowley. Bro. Charles Schaefer was another old, devoted Brother. He was at Santa Cruz from 1925 until his death in 1936. He worked hard at carpentry, keeping care of the chickens and other jobs. The community enjoyed his expressions of delight when he saw his first “talking movie” in 1931. One day Bro. Charles ran out of the house with his gun to shoot a “possum” the dogs had treed. The “possum” turned out to be his own pet cat.

WITHDRAWAL: In April of 1940, Fr. [Walter] Tredtin and Bro. Holian spoke with various priests and authorities about the school, but they were not encouraged; they concluded that Father Chaminade should be closed down. The school was in financial straits, it was a burden to the Province; the number of pupils was all too small because of the “resort” character of the town; and the community had unsatisfactory and widely‐separated housing accommodations. The official letter from the Provincial came on May 23, 1940, telling the Brothers to prepare to close down the school. At the commencement exercises held in June, Brother Holian gave a talk and told the assembly

118 that the Brothers had to leave. He stated that the Sisters of Charity at Holy Cross school would admit the dismissed boys. The pastor, Msgr. Galvin, also gave a short talk.

Bro. Francis Lahey was commissioned to investigate possibilities of using the school building as a public Junior College; he had interviews with the superintendent of schools, but for some reason nothing came of the negotiations. The Brothers sold the livestock, crops, and machinery and placed the property in the temporary care of Mr. Al Finn, an affiliated member of the Society and representative of a real estate office in Santa Cruz. Records and transcripts were sent to St. James H.S. in San Francisco, and on August 6, 1940, the three‐car caravan pulled out of Santa Cruz.

119 Part VI: The Beginnings. . .

Chapter Twenty‐five From Saragossa, and Beyond16

There was certainly some inconvenience for both Father Chaminade and Adèle de Batz in the fact that some 60 miles separated Bordeaux from Trenquelléon and Agen. But that distance proves a bonus for us who must rely on the written word for so much of our understanding of what was happening in their lives. Precisely because of the distance and the difficulty of travel, Father Chaminade and Adèle had to depend on correspondence. So it is that we are more easily able to discover their plans and dreams and desires that would otherwise be the case if they had simply met face to face to talk over their ideas.17

This advantage for us becomes even clearer when we contrast the relationship of Father Chaminade with Mlle de Lamourous and the Miséricorde. Father Chaminade’s relationship with de Lamourous (c. 1792‐1836) lasted much longer than that with Adèle (1808‐1828), more than twice as long in fact. However, we know much less about the former. Except for the eight or so years before his return from exile in Spain, there is very little documentary evidence of what transpired between them. From 1801 on, they both lived in Bordeaux only some few minutes’ walk from each other, so that they were able to meet frequently in person with little need for recourse to letters or even to notes.

As we reflect on Father Chaminade’s many hours at the feet of Our Lady of the Pillar, we can be grateful, therefore, that he was forced to express his dreams for France and his understanding of his mission in his later letters to Adèle. Not all his letters have survived the turmoil of Napoleon’s last years of power, or the ravages of history or the neglect of his disciples. But enough have survived to help us understand what he tried so hard, and successfully, to communicate to Adèle and to her first companions.

Exactly what Father Chaminade had in mind when he returned from Saragossa is not totally clear. While in exile, he, with many other priests and some bishops, had certainly discussed at length what might be needed in France if ever they would be fortunate enough to return there. With the rise of Napoleon and the prospect of an end to exile, Father Chaminade had hinted in a letter to Mlle de Lamourous that he had some special

16 See Chaminade letters nos. 22, 31, 34, 52, 57, 61, 109, 1076; Adèle letters nos. 230, 245; V. Vasey, Chaminade, Another Portrait. 17 They would not meet in person until after the foundation of the Daughters of Mary, 1816.

120 plans in mind. We do know that one of his companions in exile, Bernard Daries, a former student and collaborator at Mussidan, had hoped to found a religious order called the Society of Mary, dedicated to the honor of the Virgin; certainly Father Chaminade was aware of these plans. But in fact, Father Chaminade began his work primarily with lay people who, as he later told the pope, had remained faithful and apostolic during the chaos of the Revolution.

In a letter to Adèle (the first preserved for us) dated in the fall of 1808, he explains to her the Sodality, its organization and its functioning. And he adds, “If only I could get you to feel the happiness that comes from belonging in a special manner to the Mother of God! We take great pride here in the title of children of Mary: we believe we are her privileged family.” He shares with her his vision of the Sodality as a gathering of the children of Mary who come together to honor her, to live their Christian life under her patronage and example, and to share her task of making Christ known to the world. He stresses the importance of being consecrated to Mary and of making a public profession of that consecration.

By 1814 Adèle and her Associates had become fully integrated into the Sodality of the Immaculate Conception at the Madeleine; some had even visited there and met Father Chaminade in person. As it became clearer to him that rshe and he friends were thinking of a truly “religious” foundation, rather than of the “state” of religious living in the world, his own enthusiasm seems to have been rekindled, and he writes to her several times to explain his thoughts for the new foundation.

In a letter of October 8, 1814, he says, “I want to share with you my entire secret. Could a father hold back anything from one of his daughters who abandons herself unreservedly to his direction?” He then explains how, 14 years earlier, he had returned to France as a Missionary Apostolic to their unfortunate land. He immediately set to work to develop the “Sodality” as the best means of carrying out his mission (see also his letter of Sept. 16, 1838, to Gregory XIV). He points out the developments that have taken place since then, especially the call of many sodalists to various religious foundations. More recently, he tells her, some sodalists have indicated a desire to live the religious life, but within the Sodality itself; they would be religious sodalists. As sodalists, they would continue to be “missionaries” of Mary, sharing in his call to be Missionary Apostolic.

Each sodalist, regardless of sex, age, or social condition, is called to be an active member of the mission, a sharer in Father Chaminade’s mission which in turn is a share in Mary’s. To the extent that the proposed religious foundations will foster this missionary spirit and enable the Sodality to do even more, they are to be encouraged; but care must

121 be taken, he cautions, that the new structures do not militate against the old. In a very real sense, the religious communities must support, foster, and vitalize the work of the Sodality, not attempt to replace it or to bypass it. He is convinced that in the “universal” community of the Sodality, which brings together all segments of the Church, he has found an answer to the irreligious and secular social structures of his day.

Adèle and her companions are to be true religious, taking the traditional vows which will make them spouses of Christ. Moreover, Mary will be their model and their patroness. But more that that—they must be distinguished by their zeal and apostolic fervor. The new religious community is not being founded to do any particular kind of work. Although none is excluded in principal, most works may be left to the care of more traditional foundations. This new institute will be composed of religious missionaries whose chief work would be to sustain and propagate the Sodality, to hold meetings, to form the individual members, to establish truly Christian communities. “You must make known the principles of religion and of virtue; you must multiply Christians.”

The Sodality, he insists, will in fact profit from the religious foundation. And he encourages Madame Belloc to remind the Associates that they will be cooperators in the work of redemption, participants in the apostolic spirit, and burning with missionary zeal.

As Father Vasey so well summarized it, “The rebirth of Christianity would come about through her [Mary] and something else, essential for him—the indispensable formation of Christian communities.”18

18 V. Vasey, Chaminade, Another Portrait, p. 94.

122 Chapter Twenty‐six Founders, Alive and Well

For the entire Marianist Family January is a special month, for it marks the anniversary of the deaths of two of its Founders, or more justly, in keeping with Christian tradition, their birth into glory. Adèle died January 10, 1828, at the relatively young age of 38 years and exactly seven months to the day; Father Chaminade died January 22, less than three months shy of his 89th birthday. We believe both of them were especially graced by God with a gift for the entire Church, a gift which they bequeathed to us to preserve, to enliven, and to share with others.

This month may provide the moment to ask ourselves how well we know each of them—really know them. How much time have we spent with them? Listening to them? Speaking with them? Sharing with them? Asking them to obtain for us the insights we need to understand better the gift? What do we know of their lives, their dreams, their efforts, their failures, their achievements, their frustrations, and their joys? If they are indeed at the origin of what we are pleased to call “the Marianist charism” where can we better go to learn it, to understand it, to allow it to enter more fully into our own lives than by studying it in theirs?

One of the great insights of the bishops and fathers (and mothers!) assembled in Rome for the Vatican Council II was a renewed realization of the importance of diverse charisms in the Church. Echoing, although without knowing it, the words of Father Chaminade that religious life is as important to the Church as the Church is to the world, the Council begged us religious not to hide our light under a basket but to let it shine as a beacon and directional guide for all the People of God. The Marianist charism is broader than its religious life manifestations, and what the Council says to religious might well be applied to all of us, religious and lay Marianists alike.

What is, I believe, so extraordinary about the position of the Council concerning religious life is that the overwhelming majority of those present, and therefore of those who voted on the documents relative to the religious life, were not themselves canonical religious. Most of them were, in fact, secular clerics whose understanding of religious life has at times been considerably less than adequate, and who often in the history of the Church have looked upon religious orders and congregations with a certain amount of suspicion. Yet they were very aware of the richness the Church draws from the various charisms which have inspired religious communities and the spiritualities they offer the Church.

123 Twenty‐five years after the event, Perfectae Caritatis still rings with clarity, originality, and enthusiasm. After a brief review of history, the Council declared, Thus, in keeping with the divine purpose, a wonderful variety of religious [and lay!] communities came into existence. This has considerably contributed toward enabling the Church not merely to be equipped for every good work and to be prepared for the work of the ministry unto the building up of the Body of Christ, but also to appear adorned with the manifest gifts of her children, like a bride adorned for her husband, and to manifest in herself the multiform wisdom of God.

It was precisely “in order that the Church of today may benefit more fully from lives consecrated to the profession of the counsels and from the vital function which they perform” that the Council called upon religious for a constant “return to the sources of the whole of the Christian life and to the primitive inspiration of the institutes” so that they might more appropriately adapt to the “changing conditions of our time.” We Marianists know that we did not wait for the Council to begin this work of returning to the sources of our gift. With the labors and dedication of such giants as Simler, Klobb, Lebon, and more recently Neubert, Ferree, and Vasey (not to mention others still living) to spur us on, this “ressourcement” (reinvigorating ourselves at the wellsprings), as the French call it, had already taken firm root among us even before the Council. Our efforts to revise our Rule antedated the Council by two years.

Each generation, and each individual, must repeat the effort of ressourcement. We are not simply lay or religious Christians in the Church. We are Marianists, called to dig deeply into our own origins as Marianists, to study the life and personality and dreams and efforts of our Founders, to appreciate more the historical and societal conditions in which they lived and how they responded to them. Only then can we truly respond to the call of the Church in paragraph 2 of Perfectae Caritatis: to take as our supreme rule the life of Christ as put before us in the Gospel; to faithfully accept and retain the spirit and aims of the Founders; to share fully in the life of the Church; to know well the world in which we live; to keep in mind the priority of spiritual renewal “which must always be assigned primary importance even in the active ministry.”

The Council clearly calls us to center our lives on Christ, to make of his life the supreme rule of ours. We know what Christian tradition has constantly maintained: that in order to know Christ and to allow him to become the center our lives we must read, study, reflect, and meditate on his life as portrayed for us in the Scriptures and in the writings

124 and works of his most devoted followers. We cannot “know” Christ in the abstract; nor must we fashion him according to our own limited perceptions and needs. We must learn to spend a great deal of time with him, to hear his words, to see his actions, to penetrate into his interior dispositions. (Here the French School of Spirituality has much to teach us about prayer, contemplation, and progressive transformation into Christ.)

But what we are called to do to make Christ the supreme rule of our lives, we must also do to understand, “accept and retain the spirit and aims of the Founders”; we are called to study them, to know them, to spend time with them, to enter into their inner dispositions, to allow their dreams and hopes and vision to gradually become ours. Just as we cannot hope to draw close to Christ without “knowing” him, so we cannot imbibe the charism of the Founders without knowing them.

In proportion as William Joseph Chaminade and Adèle de Batz de Trenquelléon move out of the pages of “history” and enter our lives as real people, alive and well today, we will come to know them better, to understand what motivated their lives, to share their dreams, and to make their “charism” the source of energy and enthusiasm the Council hoped they would be for us.

125 Chapter Twenty‐seven A “Founding Instinct”

The commemoration of the Foundation Date of the Society of Mary naturally turns our thoughts to Father Chaminade. Often we refer to him simple as “the Founder” or “our founder.” In fact, the two expressions are not synonymous. To speak of him as “our” founder smacks of a certain narrow chauvinism and tends to identify him only in his role in forming the Society of Mary.

Simply in terms of time, he was already 56 years old when he and Lalanne determined on the foundation of a new religious congregation in the Church. Those first 56 years were filled with what for many would have been more than enough for a lifetime: student, teacher, priest, administrator, steward, outlaw, confessor of the faith, reconciler of juring clergy, exile, organizer of the Diocese of Bazas, founder and direction of the Bordeaux Sodality, spiritual director and confessor, associate founder of the Miséricorde, organizer of multiple works of charity, associate founder of the Daughters of Mary. . . . Had he died at that moment, May 1, 1817, his life would have been considered full, admirable, and fruitful even though there would have been no Society of Mary.

In such a supposition, even apart from the Daughters of Mary, Father Chaminade might well have been remembered in Bordeaux as “a founder” or even as “the Founder,” for his life was marked by a series of foundations. And even at the very end, he refused to identify fully with the Society of Mary precisely because, in his own mind, he thought he might still be called by God to “found” other works. He had, indeed, a rare instinct to found, to establish, to incorporate, to incarnate. While it may in some sense be true that “ideas move the world,” he knew by instinct that they did so only if incarnated in a charismatic personality or embedded in a social structure, an “institution,” a “person who would not die.”

This instinct manifested itself perhaps most clearly in his work with the Sodality. He defined the Sodality of the Immaculate Conception as a “permanent mission” in contradistinction to the temporary “missions” commonly used to restore or invigorate Christian life in France after the turmoil of the decade of Revolution. Those “missions,” in which he himself participated, were periods of intensification of preaching and sacramental ministry in a parish with the intent of drawing many non‐practicing Catholics back to their faith and of encouraging the more faithful ones to a greater commitment to Christ. There is no doubt that such missions were effective tools of regeneration. It was precisely after such a mission, the “great mission” of 1817, that Lalanne came to his historic decision.

126

But Father Chaminade realized that such missions were, by definition, short‐lived; and often so was their effectiveness. What was needed was the same kind of fervor, enthusiasm, and spiritual renewal on a permanent basis. And to achieve that, he knew, it was essential somehow to incarnate, to incorporate, to “institutionalize” the mission in a social body which had permanence, solidity, and powers of self‐regeneration. To him, the Sodality was precisely that—a “permanent mission” that could constantly and consistently draw the non‐practicing back to their faith and encourage the more faithful to an increasingly greater commitment to Christ.

He had an instinct for transferring his progressively more genial ideas of proclaiming the Good News from the realm of theoretical abstraction into the concrete realities of the social order in which he lived. At Mussidan, he first wrestled with such a transfer from theory to reality. Although he didt no “found” the collège of Mussidan, he and his brothers did revitalize it. They succeeded in placing it on a solid financial basis, in extending its resources and its influence far beyond Mussidan, in developing a relevant curriculum, and in creating a Christian atmosphere.

During the years of Revolution and immediately thereafter, he was involved with a number of foundations in the port city. He was a close associate and advisor of the Fatin sisters, of the Vincent sisters, of Marguerite Bedouret, of Mlle Desarneau, of the de Gramaignac sisters, of Father Rauzan, of Father de Noailles, and, of course, of Mlle de Lamourous—all of whom became founders of various works of mercy, of teaching, or of preaching. While his exact role in such foundations is clear only in the case of Mlle de Lamourous and the Miséricorde, there is no doubt of his strong influence in the others.

Indeed, it was at a retreat he preached in 1796 (or early 1797) that some ladies, leaders in the Catholic underground in Bordeaux for the better part of a decade and close collaborators of the outlawed clergy, determined to found religious institutes for the regeneration of France. Specifically, Marie‐Thérèse‐Charlotte de Lamourous, Marie‐ Eulalie‐Angelique Fatin, and Marguerite Bedouret decided to found, as soon as circumstances would permit, an institute for the education of young girls, for the care of the sick, and for the conversion of sinners. As history unrolled, they became instead founders of three distinct institutes: the Miséricorde for the rehabilitation of prostitutes; the Reunion of the Sacred Heart for the education of young girls; and an Ursuline community for the care of the sick.

Father Chaminade was intimately connected with the foundation of the Miséricorde. He was Mlle de Lamourous’ spiritual guide and encouraged her in her faith‐guided mission. He was chairman of the (fund‐raising) board of the Miséricorde and was

127 appointed by Archbishop d’Aviau as its ecclesiastical superior. He was directly involved with the founding and guidance of the Miséricorde at Laval, and Thérèse Rondeau, its founder, considered him its ecclesiastical superior although it was 250 miles away and in a different diocese.

Father Chaminade “founded” and directed the first (post‐Revolution) Christian Brothers novitiate/community at Bordeaux, and he provided from his Sodality both staff and students for the newly‐opened Major Seminary of Bordeaux. His efforts to “capture” the Normal Schools of France in the late 1820s were a clear attempt to incarnate his ideas on Christian education and to “institutionalize” them in a way that would enable them to affect all of France. To teach the teachers of the entire country was his intent, and but for the political reverses of 1830, he might well have succeeded.

Adèle always considered him the “founder” of her Institute, saying she had only provided the funds and the personnel. He, on the contrary, writing to the pope, says she is the founder and that he provided only the spiritual guidance. In any case, it is clear that he was totally involved in the project. And, in 1836, after Adèle’s death, he guided the foundation of the Third Order Regular of the Daughters.19

His inspiration continues to challenge us: to “incarnate” in the real world the Good News in such a way that it may speak effectively, consistently, and enduringly to the hungers of that world.

19 It is interesting to note that only the Third Order survived the 1903 spoliation of religious institutes, because it was devoted to nursing rather than education. The two “orders” were later merged. See Zonca, After Adèle.

128 Chapter Twenty‐eight Old Bones, New Vigor20

It was one of the darker moments in the history of the French people. Prussian‐led armies had invaded France, and Paris was about to capitulate. But it was one of the brighter moments in Marianist history. In that same Paris, Father Simler rummaged through boxes of old documents which the GA had brought with it from Bordeaux some ten years earlier. He was about to “rediscover the Founder’s thought.”

At the same time, in Bordeaux, another discovery of the Founder was taking place. More than 21 years earlier (Jan. 24, 1850), his mortal remains had been buried in the cemetery of La Chartreuse, in a crypt common to the canons of the city. His disciples and friends had thought of constructing a special tomb to contain his remains, where they might, in the words of Father Lalanne, “come to kneel, to hear in their inmost hearts his inspired words and the grave and persuasive voice that had called to them and had led them into the narrow path that alone leads to life and salvation.” Yet those last years had been hard on everyone, and many scars were still too fresh. Perhaps it was better to wait until time and silence had produced in the minds and hearts of all the calm and peace rendered necessary by those painful years. No doubt, Lalanne mused, this was the thinking which had postponed the realization of the filial desire.

In the early weeks of 1871, Father Estignard, a disciple of Father Chaminade who had not been able to remain in the Society but who had had for the Founder a veritable cult of veneration and gratitude, resolved to erect a mausoleum for him, using for the purpose some funds he had acquired for pious works. This decision was strongly seconded by Father Lalanne, the last survivor of the five founding members of the Society of Mary.

In February, Lalanne arrived in Bordeaux to give his fullest cooperation to his friend Estignard, so the project might be concluded successfully. But first, the remains of the Founder had to be found and identified. After having consulted and received the agreement of the Superior General of the Society, Father Chevaux, who was then in the south of France [having had to leave Paris in the face of the approaching German army], the two friends proceeded with their plan.

Father Lalanne left a detailed report, in his own characteristic style, on what was done at the time. The following details are paraphrased from that report.

20 See Apôtre de Marie, vol. 2, no. 9, pp. 240ff, Jan. 15, 1906.

129 After 21 years of burial in a common grave, it would be difficult to find a specific casket. From the very first efforts, the difficulties here seemed insurmountable. The Inspector in charge of burials declared that only after 1857 had the caskets in the crypt of priests been numbered, and that he had no way of identifying any bodies buried before that date. Besides, he added, after a certain time, when there was no longer any space for newly‐arriving caskets, the bones in the older caskets were removed and placed, pell‐ mell, in an ossuary near the crypt [a common practice in Europe even today].

Although this information was truly disturbing, it was nonetheless not enough to discourage the two friends. Placing their trust in God, they decided not to be dissuaded by anything less that physical impossibility. Between the death of Father Chaminade and the year 1857, they thought, there was a time‐span of only seven years. If they could find out how many priests were buried in the crypt during those years, they should find the Founder’s casket among that number.

Checking the necrologies of the diocesan clergy provided to them by the Chancery of the archdiocese and the list of burials preserved in the office of the Inspector, they noted that between 1850 and 1857 sixteen priests had been buried in the common crypt. On the other hand, the reports showed that the remains of those who had died before 1850 had been placed in the common ossuary. It seemed clear, therefore, that the casket of Father Chaminade would be the first of those which had not been numbered.

To verify this it would be necessary to visit the crypt; and to do that, they needed a permit which could be issued only by the mayor of the city. This posed a new and serious difficulty: At that time [during the armistice signed after the fall of Paris, Jan. 29, 1871, the National Assembly was holding its sessions in Bordeaux] the mayor and City Hall had other matters on their minds besides issuing permits to visit crypts. Yet no time was to be lost, as Father Lalanne could not indefinitely prolong his stay in Bordeaux.

Thanks to the benevolent intervention of another friend and follower of Father Chaminade, the difficulty was overcome. As a former mayor of the commune in the Department, M. Richard, alumnus of Institution Sainte‐Marie and later fervent member of the Madeleine Sodality, had maintained good relationships with the offices of the mayor of Bordeaux. He quickly took charge of the matter and promised to find a prompt and favorable solution. During the two days that passed between making the request and getting the authorization, all possible information was gathered from people who had been present for the funeral to find out whether the casket might not have had some distinguishing mark that would help recognize it.

130 About all that could be learned—yet it would prove very useful—was that the casket was quite large, it was of oak, and it had been circled with iron bands. Father Henri, who provided this information, added that he remembered someone at the entry to the cemetery speaking of “no. 52,” although he had made no attempt to find out to whom or what that number might have referred. For his part, Father Lalanne maintained that “if we find but the head of the skeleton, I would recognize it among a thousand. I had seen and studied that venerable head during so many long conversations in which my eyes and my ears took more part than my lips.”

Having received the proper authorization, Father Estignard returned to the Inspector. But the matter was not yet cleared; time must be given to the diggers to air out the crypt and to disinfect it before anyone could enter. The visit was therefore postponed until the following day, February 24.

At the appointed time, the two priests were on hand and entered the crypt with two employees, who were most cooperative and who spared no effort. The crypt was about 30 feet long and 18 wide, and was reached by descending some ten steps. The caskets were stacked on either side, on iron shelving; the earliest therefore on the ground. No. 52 was the first one examined; it was on the fourth level of shelving. But it was circled not with iron but with copper. One of the employees climbed up, found a plaque with the name Guillaume . . . followed by Robert. It was a former pastor of the church of Sainte‐Croix in Bordeaux; he had died in 1864. No. 52 was therefore not what they were looking for.

They continued to search for some time, looking for a large oak casket with iron bands. These three conditions were finally match by one casket, clearly the oldest, for it rested on the ground and was the furthest away in the crypt. It bore the number 16, although the Inspector had said it would not be among the numbered caskets. However it was apparent that the numbers, marked on the caskets in sequence from 1 to 16, were of a more recent date than the higher numbers. It was therefore assumed that these 16 caskets were precisely those most recently marked, and that the Inspector, who had only recently entered into his functions, was not aware of the fact.

And yet, if this was so, the casket sought should have been no. 1, as well as being the oldest. But the oldest was clearly this no. 16, which must have been the first brought in as it was the furthest removed from the entrance. On second thought, this apparent contradiction only confirmed the supposition of a numbering posterior to the burials. If all the numbers on the 16 caskets had been done at the same time by the same person, he might well have put eno. 1 on th casket closest to the exit, the most recent arrival, and then continued on to the furthest, that is, to the earliest arrival, making it no. 16.

131

According to this supposition, no. 16 had to be the casket of Good Father Chaminade. It was closely examined: at shoulder height, it was wider than normal; it was of oak; it had iron bands. No other distinctive mark was found. The probability became certainty as the searchers realized that among all these older caskets resting on the ground level, only no. 16 was circled with iron bands.

“Our authorization,” Lalanne says, “permitted us to open the casket. We asked the employee to pull the casket from its place into the aisle in the center so that we might see it better. He grasped it by one of the iron bands and pulled; a piece of board came with it, moldy and worm‐eaten. He went to the other side to push it out into the center. The wood caved in and broke into pieces; the entire top fell apart and was held together only by the iron bands.

It was easy enough to see the inside and to make a complete examination. First the employee lifted out the head, detached from the spinal column, and handed it to the priests. Said Lalanne, “Yes, yes, it is he. I recognize the strong forehead, the large temples, the perfect harmony of the proportions.”

“Notice,” remarked the employee, “ the prominent nasal bone. This gentleman must have had an aquiline and well‐shaped nose. Moreover, it is the head of an old man well on in years, for all traces of articulation in the bone structure have disappeared.” (Chaminade, of course, had been 89 years old.)

“No possible doubt,” said Estignard. “The upper jaw of this old man has all its teeth; Father Chaminade, by a truly rare exception, had all his teeth right up to his last days.”

The examination continued with proper religious decorum. The bones, totally stripped of any flesh, were covered by a cassock. There was a small standing crucifix; Father Lalanne recognized it as the one that used to be in Father Chaminade’s room, on the prie‐dieu between the bed and the fireplace. There was an antique statue of Mary, of the kind favored by Father Chaminade. Finally, there was a book whose decayed pages, reduced to a shapeless paste, were bound in a well‐preserved calfskin covering. The book was not a Breviary—it was the wrong size for that (Chaminade’s had been in octavo). The format was exactly like that of the first edition of the Manual of the Servant of Mary, the only book Father Chaminade ever composed and had printed. Father Estignard had a copy of the same edition, with identical binding.

In summary, everything fell into place to point to this one as the casket they were looking for: its location, its position, its number, its material, its form, its age, the

132 physical characteristics of the bones, objects most beloved of the departed during his lifetime and from which he was not separated in death. There was no longer room for doubt or hesitation.

Father Lalanne and Father Estignard consequently asked for a new authorization, this time to replace all these precious remains into a new casket until they could be placed into an individual grave that would be more accessible to all the spiritual sons of this holy priest, to whose apostolic zeal and charity they owe, after God, the light of Christian faith and their introduction into the salutary ways of piety or of the religious life. (Report of Father Lalanne, Bordeaux, February 25, 1871.)

The body of Father Chaminade having been found and identified, the next step was to proceed to the construction of the mausoleum. Father Estignard quickly requested a perpetual plot in the cemetery of La Chartreuse. The mayor of Bordeaux, by executive order of April 1, 1871, granted a plot two meters by two meters on condition of a burial site being constructed within a year’s time.

By November, both grave and monument were completed, and the translation of the mortal remains of Father Chaminade could take place. This occurred on the 14th with Father Lalanne, official delegate of the General Administration, presiding. Also present were Fathers Estignard and Meyer; Bros. Gaussens, Justin, and Vincent; Mr. Ducot and his son, members of the Sodality of Madeleine; and two priests of the city. Father Lalanne gave a discourse which has been preserved. He recalled how great and prolonged had been the regret of Father Chaminade’s followers that they were not able to kneel at his grave. He rejoiced that now they could indeed have this consolation. In his short panegyric, he noted: Having been throughout our youth witnesses of his actions and of his words, we affirm here, before Heaven which is a similar witness, that we never saw him spending a single day, not even a single hour of his time and constant work at anything that did not have to do with God and with leading others in the ways of God. No one can produce a single writing of his, or a letter, or a proposal, that was not conducive to piety. The constant application of his thoughts to meditation on the Divine Master (whose image he tried to form within himself with the powerful assistance of the Most Blessed and Immaculate Virgin and of Saint Joseph) had imprinted on his features, already distinctive by beauty of nature, a character of serenity, of modesty, of majesty, which inspired veneration and confidence at first sight. There was nothing about him that might detract from a total

133 representation of the One whom he had chosen, from his earliest years, as his only master and model.

134 Part VII: An “Operational” Charism

Chapter Twenty‐nine Resurrection! Alleluia!21

Beyond doubt, April 30, 1814, was one of Father Chaminade’s happier days. On March 12 Bordeaux had opened its gates to the Duke and Duchess of Angoulême (the daughter of Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI) and to the return of the Bourbons to the throne. This was a full week before the entry of the triumphant Allies into Paris and a month before a proud but defeated Napoleon accepted the reality and abdicated his imperial throne to become an exile on the island of Elba. The civil leaders of the impoverished port city had met the approaching royal troops to give them the keys to the city. Archbishop d’Aviau, surrounded by his clergy (including Father Chaminade as a Canon of the Cathedral—his name inscribed on the marble plaque commemorating the event) had welcomed the Duke and Duchess at the door of St. André Cathedral and had intoned the Te Deum in enthusiastic gratitude. Archbishop d’Aviau had become one of Napoleon’s most vigorous, courageous, and outspoken critics as the Corsican encroached more and more on the authority and jurisdiction of the pope.

Although Father Chaminade had managed over the years to continue his work regardless of the type of government, he made no effort to hide his royalist preferences. Shortly after the events of March 12, he wrote to Adèle: Heaven has finally declared itself in favor of France. Bordeaux has enjoyed the first fruits of its blessing. Is this because Bordeaux has always remained firm in its devotion to the august Mary. . . ? I am very happy to think that it was a faithful sodalist [Estebenet, dean of former sodality prefects who had been part of the anti‐Napoleon underground] who had the first white banner [of the Bourbons] hoisted on the steeple of Saint Michel. I think it is the first white flag to appear in France.

Some four‐and‐a‐half years earlier, Father Chaminade’s flourishing Sodality had been suppressed by express command of Napoleon. During those difficult years, it had nonetheless continued to function to some extent, and on several occasions Father Chaminade expressed his satisfaction at the fidelity of the young men and women. With the return of the Bourbons, many sodalists hastened to join the new Royal Guards. More importantly, for us, they gathered publicly at the Madeleine, and two weeks after

21 See J. Simler, William Joseph Chaminade,, pp. 176-8; Apôtre de Marie, May 1914, pp. 1-7; index to J. Verrier, Jalons.

135 the abdication of the Emperor they came together in a great solemn ceremony of renewal of dedication and new beginnings.

This Convention [that is, “agreement”] of the Young Men of Bordeaux, the Charter of the renewed Sodality, headed a new, richly‐bound register which was to contain the names ofl al the Young Men and Young Women sodalists. First on that list was the name of Father Chaminade himself, following by those of the former prefects and six of the future first members of the Society of Mary (Lalanne’s is missing, as he was in Paris at the time). The document reads thus:

In view of the dangers to their salvation which young men incur in the midst of a corrupt and corrupting environment and of the difficulty they experience in practicing their religion; In view of the great influence of example, for good or for evil; Considering that, from the two essential qualities of religion, truth, and holiness, there necessarily flows the duty of honoring the truth of its doctrine by a public profession of our faith and the holiness of its teaching by an inviolable purity of our morals, and that it is almost impossible these days for a young man living in isolation in the world to fulfill these important duties; Considering furthermore that there is an essential duty to render to Mary, the Mother of God, a very special cult; We, the undersigned, have decided to reestablish among ourselves and all young men of like disposition who might wish to be united with us, the Sodality of Young Men under the title of the Immaculate Conception of Mary. The organization of this Sodality shall seek, as in earlier days, to achieve the double purpose of presenting to young men an easy road to salvation in the world, and of obtaining for them the means of exercising, under wise direction, all kinds of works of zeal befitting the age, the state of life, and the talents of each young man. For this purpose we accept the rules of this society; we shall be obedient to our leaders; we shall fulfill our requirements; we shall devote ourselves to the works of zeal assigned to us.

There followed a description of the various steps required for entry into the reconstituted Sodality of the Madeleine, of the diverse works to which they would continue to be dedicated, of the times and nature of their meetings and liturgical celebrations. The final words read, “After a thoughtful reading of the above, we have signed the present Convention with the intention of offering its fulfillment to the most

136 holy Virgin by our act of consecration to her cult but, in recognition of our weakness, without assuming any obligation of vow or oath.”

A few weeks later it was the turn of two of the king’s closest collaborators. The Count Jules de Polignac (1771‐1847), a dedicated royalist, had gone into exile during the Revolution. In 1804 he took part in a conspiracy to topple Napoleon. Captured, he was condemned to death, but his sentence was commuted to life imprisonment. He managed to escape, fled the country, became the aide‐de‐camp to the Count of Artois (brother of Louis XVIII), and returned to France with the Restoration of the Monarchy.

With him was Count Alexis de Noailles (1783‐1825), the same person whose correspondence had implicated Lafon and the Madeleine Sodality in an attempted coup against Napoleon in 1809. (It was precisely that event which had prompted Napoleon to suppress all the Sodalities in France.) Imprisoned at the same time as Lafon, he was later released through the influence of his brother, the Count Alfred, aide‐de‐camp of Napoleon’s general, Bertrier. Both he and de Polignac were made honorary prefects and given the prefect’s brilliantly red medal. Both expressed their gratitude to Father Chaminade in personal letters.22

22 See also chaps. 2 and 9, above.

137 Chapter Thirty Schools. An Inconsistency?23

Even before the Daughters of Mary had been officially begun, Bishop Jacoupy of Agen had pressured Adèle with a request that her community dedicate itself to giving free classes to the poor children of his See city. Adèle, having had the experience of catechizing for many years and even of operating a small “school” in the paternal chateau, responded enthusiastically. Such work was certainly in keeping with her overwhelming desire to meet the needs of those around her. But Father Chaminade, preoccupied with the possibilities of expanding the Sodality into other dioceses after the fall of Napoleon, cut short her enthusiasm. In pointing out what he thought should be distinctive of the new foundation, he told her, You will have nothing to do with teaching children, or with visiting and caring for the sick, or with having boarding schools. Leave these works, excellent though they are, to older communities than yours. —But then [you may ask], what shall we do? —Your task will be to give religious instruction, to form to virtue young women of all classes and conditions [of society], to make of them true sodalists, to hold [sodality] meetings . . . to give retreats to young women, to help them in their choice of a state of life.

Something similar occurred with the foundation of the masculine branch of the Institute. Father Lalanne recalled, “People asked themselves what these young men were going to do. Nobody seemed to know. They themselves had no clear notion; they were at the beck and call of Providence.” Simler comments, “At first [Chaminade] obliged [the new community] to center its efforts on the Sodality alone, trusting that time and circumstances—or rather, the will of God—would call his workers into other apostolic fields. During the year of probation at Ségur Court, each one continued in his former occupation but cooperated actively with the Sodality, sitting on its councils, contributing to the success of its meetings, and participating in its good works.”

Despite this strong position of the Founder not to limit the Institute to any particular work, not even to schools, within a year after their foundation both branches of the Institute were actively engaged in the classroom. Was this a deviation from the original intent? Did Father Chaminade succumb to the very danger he pointed out to others, that of simply “seeking to meet needs” and thereby vitiating the purity of an original charism? Or was the move into schools precisely an implementation of his charism and his vision?

23 See Chaminade letters nos. 57, 59, 61, 68, 1076; Simler, William Joseph Chaminade, pp. 335-337; Lalanne, Notice historique, p. 10; H. Lebon, Our First Century, pp. 18-19; Weltz, International Marianist Review, Oct. 1986.

138

Two fundamental positions guided Father Chaminade in the decisions he had to make in the early days of his religious foundations. On the one hand, he had to keep before his disciples the vision of their vocation to be “missionaries.” On this point there was to be no compromise, no limiting of horizons, no “specialization” of the ends of the Institute. On the other hand, he had to maintain a receptive and supple position relative to the eventual indications of Providence as seen in the various and varying circumstances of life. Father Chaminade had personally lived through some of the most radical and stunning changes in the history of western Europe, and he was certainly not one to underestimate the message Providence might be transmitting through such changes. He was a man of prudence and discernment and a man of action. He did not dash off madly in all directions at the first intimation of change; but once convinced of a sign of Providence, he moved forward inexorably.

For him there was a great difference between “meeting the needs of the age” and “reading the signs of the times,” although both exercises have much in common. A combination of circumstances which he considered providential led him, after a first moment of hesitation, to embark on a truly ambitious and even grandiose program of scholastic foundations. Both at Agen (for both the Daughters and the Society) and at Bordeaux (again for both branches), the needs were only too clear. The question he had to wrestle with was this: Are these “needs” also “signs”?

At the time of the foundation of the religious institutes, the educational scene in France was truly deplorable. After 1792, in the aftermath of the suppression of religious institutes, the vast majority of educational establishments simply disappeared: primary schools, parish schools, free classes for the poor and the orphans, collèges, universities— almost all had been established and supported by the Church, by pastors, by bishops, and especially by religious orders. In their place was a “wordy vacuum.” Education was now the responsibility of the new “nation.” The disciples of Rousseau and of the Enlightenment, however, although long on speeches on the subject, were short on practical results. A few, and short‐lived, “central schools” were established in the major cities. But the broad mass of the population was evidently headed toward complete illiteracy.

Under Napoleon matters improved somewhat. The government established prestigious schools for the preparation of magistrates, army officers, and government functionaries. The university became a government monopoly. A number of Lycées again took up the cultural, but now non‐religious, traditions of the former collèges. Under both the Republic and the Empire, various laws were passed in favor of mass (elementary, primary, or “popular”) instruction; but these provided no means of support. The

139 burden fell on the local bodies least able to carry it. Even the Church, after the Concordat with Napoleon, was hampered in its efforts to revive its educational work. There were precious few religious, the old orders still being “outside the law,” and newer foundations were just beginning to dare show themselves in public. Moreover, the Church had other, more immediate concerns: resurrecting the parishes and providing a complete educational system for the formation of its priests—all supported by private funds of dioceses, parishes, or parents.

In much of France, what public education existed was perhaps worse then none at all. In 1821, for example, the Baron Pasquier made his report to the Chamber of Deputies. He pointed out that there were still “25,000 communes [the new local administrative unites replacing the former pre‐Revolution parishes]—that is to say, two thirds of the communes of France—which lacked schools or any other means for primary teaching.”

At the time, as the Minister of Public Instruction later reported, Not all the teachers knew how to write. . . . Ignorance was general. The teacher was laborer, sabot maker, tavern keeper. He had his wife substitute for him when he went hunting on the plains. He was often regarded in the commune as being on the same footing as a beggar. . . . Most frequently, the position of teacher was sought by men who were sick, crippled, or incapable of any other work. A person can have his pick of sicknesses to survey, from the teacher without arms to the epileptic.

As a government report of 1824 testified, “The ignorance and, it is necessary to add, the immorality of most of the teachers or keepers of schools cause a permanent, not to say ever‐growing, obstacle to any improvements.”

Chaminade could not ignore such widespread and depressing conditions. An experienced teacher himself, immediately after the Revolution he collaborated with several founders of institutes dedicated to teaching. He encouraged his sodalists, both women and men, to give their time and talents to catechetical instruction of the young, to basic education for the poor, and to ongoing education for all. Almost 20 years before the foundation of the Society, two of his sodalists, Lafargue and Darbignac, encouraged by him and by Archbishop d’Aviau, had opened a small primary school for the poor, and he had helped bring the Christian Brothers back to Bordeaux.24 Perhaps the best secondary school in the city was that of Estebenet, another sodalist; with him were Lalanne and Perrière. (The latter had also taught at the Collège de Figeac with Lafon, still another sodalist.)

24 See chap. 8, above.

140

Yet Father Chaminade, at the beginning of his religious institutes, shied away from commitment to schools. Writing to Pope Pius VII in January of 1819, he insists that the Daughters of Mary, “originally founded within the bosom of the Sodalities, have dedicated themselves to a monastic life, adding to the usual holy vows that of consecrating themselves to spreading the faith.” A similar group in Bordeaux, composed of men, had “in the same spirit as the Daughters of Mary, undertaken the same mission with the same vows.” Not a word about schools!

Meanwhile, in his usual patient and methodical way, he continued to study the conditions of his world. He did not like much of what he saw in the educational circles. As Simler puts it (p. 337), In the field of education France was still burdened with a rigid monopoly, and the Restoration had neither dared nor wished to break the controlling instrument bequeathed to it by the Empire. . . . When Bishop Frayssinous had accepted the title of rector of the university, La Mennais could write, with some exaggeration no doubt but not without a grain of truth, “Under the protection of a venerable name, children are being brought up in practical atheism and in hatred for Christianity.

It was becoming all too clear that the restored monarchy did not intend to challenge the anti‐Christian forces then in control of the nation’s education, or to restore the older religious orders to their position of prominence in that arena.

The need was clear enough. But were there also “signs”? Father Chaminade believed he saw some decisive ones. Barely two months after writing to Adèle telling her that her new institute was not to conduct classes, he reversed his position. He had meantime learned that conditions in Agen were not as he had supposed them to be, and he decided to accede to the Bishop’s request for free classes. This first essay was very tentative, for Father Chaminade did not believe Adèle sufficiently experienced to open a real school. However, when shortly after the foundation one of his choice sodalists from Bordeaux decided to enter the Daughters, he had yet another sign. Marie‐Rosalie Lhuillier, the same age as Adèle, was a teacher and part‐time administrator at a school her mother had opened for upper‐class young ladies of Bordeaux. Extremely talented, proficient in arts and languages, she had exceptional musical ability. With her arrival at Agen and that of several other sodalists who had had experience with schools, Father Chaminade began to encourage Adèle to open more classes.

141 He suggested the community reach out to the upper‐class young ladies who did not seem to care much for the Sodality. They could be invited to continue their education as day students at the convent, as they might be more attracted by grammar, French, Italian, music, and geography than by devotions. Yet the intent of the Sisters must be always to form good and sincere Christians. It is clear that at this point in history, the schools are seen only as concomitant with and contributing to the Sodality, which remains the chief work of the Institute.

At Bordeaux when two of his sodalists offered to put at his disposal a rather large sum of money to defray the costs of the “Little Society of Mary” to found a new school in that city, Father Chaminade decided the signs were clear enough. Six months after his letter to Pius VII, Father Chaminade embarked on a new venture—as he would explain it to another pope, Gregory XVI, 20 years later. After detailing the origins, purpose, and astounding successes of the Sodality, he continued. But, Most Holy Father, this means, however excellent it may be when it is wisely used, is not sufficient. Philosophism and Protestantism, favored in France by the ruling power, have taken hold of public opinion and of the schools, attempting to spread in all minds, especially during childhood and youth, this libertinism of thought, still more baneful than that of the heart from which it is inseparable. . . . Who could even conceive of all the resulting evils? . . .[Our] two new Orders . . . would show that the Gospel is as practicable today as it was 1800 years ago; they would challenge the propaganda hidden under a thousand and one disguises; and they would take over the battleground of the schools by opening classes of all levels and subjects, especially for those classes of people most numerous and most abandoned.

It is interesting to note the shift of emphasis in these two official letters to the head of the Church. In 1819, after declaring that the proper end of religious foundations is “the propagation of the faith,” Father Chaminade simply adds, “The more particular spirit of these groups is to provide a special head for zeal, another for instruction, and still another for work.”

Twenty years later, he enters into much more detail. The Society of Mary . . . includes three classes: (1) that of the educated laymen whose principal mission is the spread of the knowledge, love, and practice of our holy religion by means of teaching; (2) that of members devoted to manual labor, which has for its object the opening of schools of arts and crafts for young men of the ordinary classes, to defend or dissuade them from the contagion of the world, and to teach them to sanctify their labors by the practice of the Christian virtues;

142 and finally, (3) that of the priests which . . . will devote itself in the world to the exercise of all the functions of the holy ministry.

As for the Order of Virgins, “with the means at its command, it works toward the same ends as the Society of Mary. Consequently, it occupies itself with the work of teaching, with works proper to persons of their sex, with sodalities, and with works of charity.”

How seriously Father Chaminade took his decision to “take over the battleground of the schools,” to challenge the enemy where it was strongest, may be seen from even a cursory review of The Spirit of Our Foundation, vol. 3, §§ 1‐71. From primary school to Normal School, he would—and did—do battle.

143 Chapter Thirty‐one A Very Special Classroom25

The first Marianist cemetery in the United States is located on the campus of what is now the University of Dayton. Fr. Leo Meyer, founder of the American Province, obtained permission from the township authorities to lay out a private cemetery at what was then known as the “Nazareth” convent. He chose a section of land south of the farmhouse and at the eastern end of the property. It was a secluded location, away from the incursion of vehicular or pedestrian traffic. Inaugurated on November 1, 1854, All Saints Day, it continued to receive the departed brothers until December of 1960.

The original cemetery was a small rectangle plot of 75 by 80 feet. It was surrounded by a wooden picket fence with several cedar trees on each side along the fence line. With time, the area was considerably expanded, to the north and to the east. For half a century, wooden crosses were used to mark the gravesites. In 1907, the wooden crosses were replaced by headstones. The headstones in turn were sunk level with the ground in 1971, and now probably escape the notice of many of the passers‐by. But the site is marked by a large granite slab on a granite base. On the slab, erected in 1980, is a plaque with these words. The usual classroom scene of many students and one teacher is here reversed as you, the reader of these lines, stand as a solitary student before a great number of teachers, predecessors of the Marianists now laboring at the University. Here they lie in peace, still expounding to those who listen, with lessons of truth and goodness—and love of the Virgin Mary, in whose service they lived and died. May their memory inspire you as their lives inspired so many others.

Three other plaques below the first one contain the names of all those buried there, in the order in which their graves are located. The place of honor, with the only above‐ ground marker and directly behind the granite slab, goes to little Mary Louisa Stuart. Born February 25, 1848, she died four months and twenty days later. The daughter of John and Mary Stuart, owners of the Dewberry farm, she was originally buried in St. Henry’s Cemetery (east of the present Dayton [Montgomery County] Fairgrounds). The Stuart family returned to Europe in 1850. Some 20 years later when St. Henry’s was discontinued as a cemetery and the property was sold, the remains of those buried there were transferred to Calvary Cemetery. However, Bro. Maximin Zehler was able to obtain permission to rebury the coffin of the little Stuart girl in the Marianist cemetery at Nazareth, for he considered her parents as outstanding benefactors of the Marianists.

25 The careful research behind this article was done by Bro. Donald Hebeler, Cincinnati Province, Alumni Hall Community at the University of Dayton.

144 He marked the spot with a small tombstone, surmounted by a smaller praying angel, and her memory has been preserved among us.

The first person to be buried in the cemetery in Dayton was an 18‐year‐old postulant from Sandusky, Ohio. Jacob Krupp died on Ash Wednesday, February 20, 1855. The last to be buried there was Bro. Aloysius Kreipel, who died December 2, 1960, at the age of 77. In between, not counting the Stuart baby, 305 other people were buried there. Of these, 284 were Marianist religious. There were also five affiliates; eight other postulants; six novices, and two students.

The first professed religious to be interred in the cemetery was Bro. Joseph Radinger. He died on January 19, 1861, at the age of 49. The first “professed‐in‐America” Marianist to die was Louis Curiec. Curiec was born (March 15, 1825) in France, but professed his first vows as a Marianist in Dayton on August 21, 1850. He was the second person to profess vows as a Marianist in the United States (Bro. Nicholas Bohn, who preceded him alphabetically, was the first).

Less than four years after his profession, Curiec was assigned (January, 1854) to the St. Joseph Orphan Asylum in downtown Cincinnati as a cook. He died there on November 21, 1854, and was buried in St. Joseph’s Cemetery, Price Hill, Cincinnati. Only around 1885 were his remains transferred to the cemetery in Dayton.

Neither of the first two Marianists to come to America is buried at the University of Dayton. Fr. Leo Meyer left Dayton November 29, 1862, and stopped in Cleveland and New York on his way back to France. He departed New York December 19 and arrived at Le Havre on New Year’s Day, 1863. He spent his declining years at Saint‐Remy, died there January 30, 1868, and was buried in the Marianist cemetery there. An attempt was made by the American administration in 1909 to have his remains brought from France to Nazareth. However, the General Administration, taking into account the antipathetic political climate in France at the time, did not believe the civil authorities would look favorably on such a proposal.

Father Meyer’s companion when he came to America in 1849 had been Bro. Charles Schulz. He had joined the Brothers of Mary just two years earlier, at the age of 27. He left the Marianists in 1851 to become a Jesuit Brother. He served in a number of different posts and died August 6, 1907, at Marquette University at the age of 87.

Of the second group of Marianist “pioneers,” Bros. John Stinzi, Maximin Zehler, and Andrew Edel are buried at Nazareth. Bro. Damien Litz was the last of the pioneers to die and was buried in San Antonio.

145

Among the professed religious whose remains are presently on the University of Dayton campus there are 266 brothers and 19 priests. The names include five who held the position of Provincial, either of the American Province or of the Cincinnati Province: John Reinbolt, Landelin Beck, George Meyer, Bernard O’Reilly, and Lawrence Yeske.

The list also contains noted names of Marianist chroniclers or historians: John Garvin, Edward Knust, Edward Gorman, Jon Brueck, Herman Jaske, Thomas Mooney, Paul O’Brien, George Ruppel, William Wehrle, George Meyter, and Charles Preisinger among others.

The five affiliates were: Francis Daeges (1845‐1933); John Callanan (1846‐1933); Francis Herner (1866‐1940); and two former religious who returned as laymen to live and die in Marianist communities, Edward Orschell (1872‐1939) and Nicholas Joerns (1851‐1933).

146 Chapter Thirty‐two Our “Tradition Is Innovation”26

In June of 1946, not long after the harrowing experiences of World War II, Fr. Joseph Verrier, then 42, spoke these words in a retreat conference to a community in France: “Our tradition is adaptation.”

Michel Darbon’s Life of Chaminade had just appeared, and in reflecting on that writer’s views of the Founder, Verrier was led to develop his own thought. “In order to show themselves faithful to the inspiration of the Founder,” Darbon had written, “it would be necessary to be like the marching wing of the Church, for every day we can say, Nova bella elegit dominus (the Lord has chosen new ways of fighting).”

Verrier’s concern was that despite the tumultuous events of the prior decade, too many Marianists were perhaps satisfied to remain ensconced in the “traditional” comfortable structures and methods of the past where they still existed, or to recover them where they had been destroyed. But Catholics had finally discovered that France was indeed a paganized, post‐Christian country, “pays de mission.” Just as World War II was no longer World War I, so too “These children of pagans whom you wish to Christianize (in 1946) are not those whom the Society Christianized 50, 20, or even 10 years ago. Just as the movies have replaced the Magic Lantern, so the world today is a very different one.”

What he had to say then is even more true now, after Vatican II and “future shock.” So it may not be without value to listen to him again. Pointing out what the Constitutions said about teaching, he suggested this applied equally well to every apostolic endeavor. “To admit absolute invariability in the form and matter of instruction would be to limit to a very short time the services and even the existence of an Institute which devotes itself to education” (Const. 1922, art. 277).

Unfortunately, it is so easy to attach ourselves to methods, to structures, to processes— especially if we ourselves have discovered and developed them. We may prefer habit and routine to an independence and freedom which forces us to constantly adjust and experiment and discover anew. It costs to leave a place, or a work, or a position where we have tasted success, response, adulation, or even where we have poured out much blood, sweat, and tears without success! It costs to disregard personal and perhaps selfish interests to seek only the interests of the kingdom. Yet we cannot afford to be prisoners of the past if we wish to do the work of Christ.

26 See MRC, “The Verrier Collection,” Part I, 1973; Michel Darbon, Guillaume-Joseph Chaminade, Paris, Editions Spes, 1946.

147

Verrier quotes Darbon as the latter paraphrases Father Chaminade’s position. The essential idea from which everything else flows consists in forming a religious order in the full sense of the word and adapting it, with regard to its form, to the needs of the age. Let us sacrifice the contingent to the necessary. In the midst of the general decadence of the Christian spirit which sinks into indifference, skepticism, or unbelief, it is important before all else to renew faith, to bring salvation to others, to rechristianize. This missionary zeal ought to dominate everything, and we must in consequence avoid whatever would risk compromising its effectiveness by attachment to antiquated practices. . . . There is no longer any use returning to what is definitively dead. . . . In new conditions, new works are indispensable for new times.

Darbon continues to reflect Father Chaminade’s thought: away with distinctive garb which separates us artificially from others, away with excessively long liturgies which bore the very people we hope to draw to Christ, away with deep‐rooted social class distinctions which perpetuate the discriminations of prior ages! The members of the community—priests, laity, religious, or secular—will work as equals, hand in hand, with one mind and one heart. “Each one will naturally have his own special role, but without a hierarchy which puts this one beneath that one.” Drawing from the motto of the French Revolution all the Christian meaning it might contain, Father Chaminade grafted it onto the living tradition to produce something very different, very new, very exciting and very attractive.

Verrier reviews for his brothers the life of the Founder himself, showing how often, and under what exceedingly difficult situations, he had to leave the past and move into the unknown future. From the ancien régime through Revolution (1789) and Terror (1795), through exile (1797‐1800), living under the Corsican Master of Europe (1800‐1815), under the Voltairian King Louis XVIII (1815), under the devout philosopher King Charles X (1824) and his minister Count Polignac, who was one of Father Chaminade’s sodalists, to Louis Philippe (1830) with a regime more different from his predecessor’s than was Napoleon’s from the ancien régime, and finally ending with the Revolution of 1848 in the midst of those darkest years of the Founder’s life. Through them all Father Chaminade lived, worked, built, and often saw his most cherished dreams and fruitful works die.

In all Father Chaminade did, he was an innovator, and often a lonely one. When he launched the Society of Mary into primary education, primary education did not exist. Wherever the Society of Mary opened a school, it was alone, and all who sought

148 instruction came. Later the French government moved into the field of primary education. The non‐Christians went to those schools, and, Verrier says, “There remained for us only the children of the Christian families; our schools descended to the rank of works of preservation and conservation.”

And yet, Nova bella—we are made for modern warfare, for the newest forms of struggle. If the circumstances here and there have constrained us to stop our offensive, that can be only momentarily. We must prepare a new march forward. Nova bella. Yesterday, the new was the Sodality, it was the primary schools, it was the agricultural schools, or the schools of arts and trades. . . . Today [1946] the new is the priest, it is the religious man, it is the religious sister, working in the factory in the midst of men and women workers. . . . Tomorrow, Nova bella . . . again something new will be necessary; tomorrow, Nova bella. There will still be place for us . . . tomorrow . . . nova bella . . . if we have something new young people will come to us, and by us other young people will be led to Christ.

The words of our Rule of Life are a faithful echo of the Founder and of his dream. “Like the Word Incarnate, we strive to be at one with the people of our time and to share their joy and hope, their grief and anguish. . . . We find inspiration in Mary’s word to the servants at Cana, ‘Do whatever he tells you.’ We remain open as a Society to all means of evangelization. . . .” Yet, is the Rule not less visionary than the Founder? Is it enough to “remain open”? Is it not our task, in being faithful to the Founder, to discover, to invent, to create afresh the means suited to our time?

149 Chapter Thirty‐three Option for the Poor27

A “preferential option for the poor” has become a current phrase in Catholic vocabulary in the past few years. But the reality is an integral part of the Christian tradition, beginning with the Lord Jesus and coming to us through Luke, Paul, James and their spiritual descendants throughout the following centuries.

It is not surprising, therefore, that such a concern for the most needy members of society should hold priority among the various lay and religious institutes which mushroomed in France during and after the Napoleonic era. The Revolution, guided or misguided by its ideals, had destroyed most of the organized works of charity of the Church—schools, hospitals, orphanages, asylums, “refuges”—as well as much of the lay outreach to the poorest members of society. Even before the worst of the Revolution was over, individuals and groups, moved by Christian ideals and love, tried to provide what they could for the most neglected segments of their world.

At its origins, the Marianist tradition was certainly steeped in these concerns. The Sodality of Bordeaux and Adèle’s Association, while devoted to the spiritual growth of their own members, also embraced a “catholic” variety of outreached to the poor—the spiritually poor, but especially the spiritually poor who were also materially poor. Adèle’s mother had devoted much of her wealth and time to caring for the needy; Adèle followed in her footsteps, and so did her many Associates. Among the sodalists at Bordeaux, feeding the hungry, visiting the prisoners and hospitalized, caring for the sick, providing wholesome recreation for the poorest children—all these and many other efforts reflected the practicality of their faith.

After the foundation of the religious institutes, the same concern for the poor and option in their favor continued. In addition to the Sodality, the very first work undertaken by the Daughters of Mary was free classes for poor girls, classes where they were taught not only the rudiments of reading, writing, arithmetic, and religion but also how to sew and weave and cook and care for a household. When the Daughters of Mary opened their boarding school at Condom for girls of the middle class, they insisted on also opening day classes for the poor—free classes for those who could not afford any education at all.

27See Spirit of Our Foundation, vol. 3, pars. 19-27; 186-188; chap. 3, esp. pars. 287-288; Chaminade letter no. 1132; Stefanelli, Adèle, esp. chaps. 9, 15.

150 The concern of the Marianist Sisters went beyond the education of the youngest. They also instructed young women and older women, preparing them for First Communion and Confirmation, and opened their hearts and their limited food supplies to the beggars and prostitutes of Agen.

Although the first “work” of the new Society of Mary (after the Sodality) was a secondary boarding school in Bordeaux, Father Chaminade did not hesitate long in directing the efforts of the nascent Society of Mary toward primary education (some 30 such schools were founded between 1820 and 1850). Although some of the primary schools were for paying pupils, it was Father Chaminade’s intent “to reach all ranks of society, with a special predilection, however, for the poor.”28 In the draft of the Constitutions of 1829, he wrote, The free primary schools are destined for the Christian education of the poor. Of all other activities, it is the one most dear to the Society, as it is most precious in the eyes of the Savior, who desired that this religious education of the poor might be one of the marks of his divine mission. (art. 247)

He expressed the hope that civil authorities “will allow all the children whose parents are unable conveniently to pay a contribution, to attend the primary schools gratuitously, and even to guard against a too‐rigid inquiry into their condition which might be too humiliating to them” (Letter no. 1132). When applying for royal authorization of his work in 1825, he insisted that “the Society purposes to give education free to all those who cannot obtain it otherwise” (art. 2).

The first primary school, the one at Agen, was a remarkable success, and its record is worth rereading (see Spirit of Our Foundation, vol. 3, pp. 350‐72). Pupils who upon entering the school had been unable to distinguish one letter of the alphabet from another were soon reading The Imitation of Christ. Some who could not make a straight stroke developed a clear, legible hand. Some who could not write half a dozen numbers correctly made amazing progress in arithmetic.

Students at the Agen school were required to present Certificates of Indigence, a move not only to identify the real poor but to prevent the more well‐off from taking advantage of the opportunities for an education. The system did not work very well, for several of the pastors granted such Certificates to the less materially needy on the grounds that spiritual indigence was even more important than the material kind!

28 Spirit, vol. 3, par. 23.

151 An interesting development in the primary schools was the “unclassified grade,” to which were admitted all those children who for one cause or another were not able to pursue the regular courses. The Society believes it would fail in its duty if it closed its doors to children from the rural districts whose homes are so distant that they cannot attend regularly every morning and afternoon, or still less to those who cannot attend every day. It does not refuse admission to the children of working men living in the city, if family needs oblige them sometimes to remain at home. It does not wish to forsake such as have been endowed with less intelligence or have not been able to keep pace with their more fortunate companions, and whose advance might have been arrested or at least retarded by their presence in the same class with others more talented. It does not even abandon intractable characters before it has exhausted all means of reformation. It also reserves to itself the right of cooperating with parents who are satisfied with a very limited education for their children. Finally, it wishes to provide for excluded children, unless the dismissal was deemed absolutely necessary. . . . To instruct children of such difference in intelligence, age, and character requires great tact and a devotedness almost heroic, and no worthier task, no one more replete with interest, could present itself to a zealous teacher. The unclassified grade is taught by an able and experienced teacher who finds the greatest spur in the fact of being able to promote his pupils to one or the other of the regular classes.29

29 See Spirit, vol. 3, par. 288 note.

152 Part VIII: From Beginning to End

Chapter Thirty‐four Bethlehem30

Among Father Chaminade’s notes there is a collection dating from the early period of the Sodality. We can date them because they were confiscated (temporarily) by the police in 1809. These “notes,” as the Founder pointed out to the police, are not formal writings, not even notes he would have duse in presenting a conference or giving a sermon. They were, he said, very incomplete thoughts, extracts or selections from books, ideas used to stimulate his thinking or to refresh his memory.

It was his custom to jot down such ideas in preparing and arranging his thoughts and while trying to focus them on his subject. However, once he had decided how to handle the subject, he would stop writing. “I have never written a conference or a speech except to focus my thinking; and most of the time I never wrote down the thought upon which I had decided to focus my attention.” The notes we have, therefore, are only sketchy indications of what thoughts were preoccupying him as he prepared a specific conference or sermon; they are not notes actually used to give the sermon or conference.

Among these early notes are a series of three referring directly to the Christmas season: on the Nativity, on the Circumcision, and on the Epiphany. For the Feast of the Nativity (of which year?), Father Chaminade begins his reflections with the text from Luke: “She wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger” (Lk 2:7). [In these particular notes, all Father Chaminade’s quotations from Sacred Scripture are in Latin.]

As soon as the august and most pure Mary had had the joy and happiness of holding the lovable and divine infant in her arms, as soon as she had offered him to the eternal Father, as soon as the heavenly court and the glorious Saint Joseph had paid him the tribute of their adoration, this most holy mother, having been taught by the deepest counsel of eternal wisdom, laid him in a manger. The most holy Mary knew that Jesus Christ had come as spouse of souls, as king of hearts, as priest of the new alliance, and as teacher of the Church. She knew that the manger was to be at once the nuptial bed, the throne of grace and mercy, the altar of sacrifice, and the cathedra of truth. She laid him in a manger. . . . She knew no one would have a share in these chaste and divine espousals, in these graces of King, etc., unless Jesus Christ was laid in the

30 See Notes d’instruction, vol. 1, pp. 37-42; vol. 2, p. 23 [preferred reference: The Chaminade Legacy, vol. 2, docs. 20 and 72]

153 manger, and only to the extent that each would imitate the spirit which led him to accept the manger. Moreover, she knew that not only would some imitate him according to the spirit, but some would take his counsels as precepts for their life. 1. Jesus Christ is our only: teacher“For only one is your teacher” (Mt 23:8). Jesus Christ teaches us always and everywhere, by his example in the manger, by his doctrine; he is the Word of God manifested. He teaches only what he has learned from his Father: “I only tell the world what I have heard from him” (Jn 8:26). “My doctrine is not my own; it comes from him who sent me” (Jn 7:16). He teaches us interiorly first, then exteriorly, for only he teaches the truth. 2. Jesus Christ is King of Christians: this quality was foretold (Mi 5:11), “and you Bethlehem, land of Judah”; “King of kings and Lord of lords” (Rev). “Rejoice heartily, O daughter of Zion, shout for joy, O daughter Jerusalem! See, your king shall come to you; a just savior is he, meek, and riding on an ass, on a colt the foal of an ass” (Zech 9:9). After striking manifestations of his power, after the multiplication of bread, Jesus Christ refuses the title of king. But when he seems to be weak, in his passion, he accepts it: when he is close to his death he says, “Now has judgment come upon this world, now will this world’s prince be driven out” (Jn 12:31). In the plan of God the praetorium was to be the place [chosen] for the inauguration of Jesus Christ. To fulfill this plan unwittingly, Pilate had placed on the cross on which Jesus would die the august title, “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.” For the cross is the wisdom and the power of God. Note: The synagogue was expecting a rich, conquering etc., Messiah. So it did not recognize Jesus Christ poor, humiliated, etc. The prophets had represented him as subduing all nations, etc.; but they had also represented him as poor and suffering. The Jews could easily have reconciled these expressions of the prophets had they not been such earthbound creatures. They could and should have understood that true greatness, the greatness that was becoming to a Messiah, was not the show and pomp of luxury and riches (for he was coming, on the contrary, to show their emptiness), but the virtue and holiness he was coming to establish. He was to subdue peoples not by arms, but by his grace. . . . “As for you, you rich, weep and wail over your impending miseries” (Jas 5:1). 3. Jesus Christ, priest in the manger. Wherefore, on coming into the world, Jesus said, “Sacrifice and offering you did not desire, but a body you have prepared for me. Holocausts and sin offerings you took no delight in. Then I

154 said, ‘As it is written of me in the book, I have come to do your will, O God’ (Heb 10:5‐7).” Jesus Christ offers the morning sacrifice.

To these reflections of the Founder may be added the following from a different set of notes (of unknown date):

A Sermon for the Day after Christmas The love which the Son of God shows us in this mystery is a love of condescension. 1. We were in our lowliness, and his love brought him to the point of stooping down to us in order to raise us up to himself with the dignity of children of God. 2. We were in our ignorance, and his love brought him to the point of stooping down to us in order to enlighten us and to instruct us by his example. 3. We were in our weakness and misery, and his love brought him to the point of stooping down to us in order to heal us. And so it is that the Son of God, by being born, raises us from our lowliness by the alliance he contracted with us as a human being. He enlightens our ignorance by the example he gives us as a model. Finally, he heals our infirmities and our miseries by the grace which he brings us as our Savior.

155 Chapter Thirty‐five Calvary31

“Was it not necessary?” Among the more disturbing words of Jesus recorded in the Scriptures are those addressed to the gloomy and dispirited disciples on the road to Emmaus: “Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and enter into his glory?” (Lk 24:26). There is no reference to a suffering Messiah in the Old Testament, or in the Jewish literature of the time of Jesus. True, post factum, the early Christians saw in the Hebrew Scriptures many references which might be applied to Jesus, especially those of the suffering servant in Isaiah and of certain psalms. But there was no clear prophecy which required a suffering Messiah for its fulfillment.

“What it not necessary?” Perhaps, with the disciples, we are tempted to reply, “Why should it have been necessary?” There is nothing inherent in suffering that makes it redemptive. Surely God was not limited in the means that might be chosen to accomplish our redemption. Why was it “necessary?” Yet faith does not need a rational answer in order to believe; the fact of the suffering is there, and faith accepts it while trying to penetrate its deeper meaning.

And we may ask a similar question about Mary, the sinless Mother of God. Why did she have to suffer? Whatever reasons might be adduced for a suffering Messiah certainly do not apply to her; she is not our Redeemer. Yet she suffered, from the first moment of her appearance in Scripture until the death of her Son on the Cross. Here, too, faith accepts the fact while trying to penetrate its deeper meaning.

The Calvary scene, the climax of the suffering of both Jesus and Mary, was a favorite object of contemplation for Father Chaminade. (See Marian Writings, index, “Calvary.”) That same scene has been traditionally presented to us at the ceremony of profession of perpetual vows. Father Chaminade certainly loved this mystery of Calvary because it was the occasion for Jesus to proclaim to his followers Mary’s motherhood in their regard. But he also loved it because it enabled him to penetrate deeply into the mystery of her (and our) suffering, its meaning and its value.

“Let others hasten to climb Mount Tabor,” Father Chaminade writes. “Let them repeat after Saint Peter: ‘It is wonderful for us to be here’; I choose the mountain of myrrh, Calvary, and I am impelled to do so by the example of Mary.” Mary, standing freely, deliberately, of her own choice, at the foot of the cross, teaches us in faith how to face suffering, how to give it meaning. “Why does Mary go to Calvary?” the Founder asks.

31 See Marian Writings, vol. 1, nos. 83-85; 214-215; 219; vol. 2, no.705.

156 “Not from a mere sentiment of pity, of compassion and maternal tenderness. She goes to accomplish great mysteries; the deposit of faith rests in Mary.”

Offering both her Son and herself to the Father, Mary entered into the mysterious realms of the divine will. “Thy will be done,” mysterious, difficult, uncompromising, demanding, challenging to all our petty human minds believe is just and proper. “Thy will, not mine.” She echoes the words of Jesus himself, facing the awful darkness that is the incomprehensible divine meaning of human suffering.

Mary’s suffering on Calvary was manifold, as most human suffering is. She suffered in body—the tiredness, the heat, the suffocating crowds, the odors, the visual impact of the punishment meted out to her Son. She suffered in spirit—the loss of her beloved one, the desertion of most of the disciples, the betrayal of Judas, the denial of Peter, all the sufferings of her Son reverberating in her own soul. She must have been tempted to ask, “Is it all worth it?” Cui bono, as the Romans might have asked. To what purpose? For whose sake?

Father Chaminade makes his own the beautiful text of Saint Bernard. We rightly call you more than martyr, for the effect of compassion in you has gone beyond the endurance of physical suffering. . . . Do not be surprised, brothers, that Mary is said to be a martyr in spirit. Let him be surprised who does not remember the words of Paul, that one of the greatest crimes of the Gentiles was that they were without love. That was far from the heart of Mary; let it be far from her servants.

Mary’s love on Calvary, Father Chaminade reminds us, was not a self‐centered love. She did not suffer chiefly because of her own loss, great as that was. She suffered to see her Son suffer. She sought to share his mysterious suffering, to somehow make it her own, to lift it from him if that were possible. It was not her mission to question the “why” of his suffering, but to accept it as her own, to enter into it, to become one with him in suffering. In this, as in so much else, she is a type of what each of us senses to some degree when faced with the suffering of others. She would gladly have died to save him, but she could not. And that, perhaps, was her greatest suffering. “Mary’s love was not given the satisfaction of dying” in his place, or at least with him.

So fully did Mary enter into the mysterious designs of the awesome Father that John’s words could justly be applied to her. “She so loved the world as to give up her only Son.” Together with God the Father, Father Chaminade says, “with one accord and for the salvation of sinners, they would offer up their common Son in this sacrifice.” This

157 indeed is a faith that accepts the fact of suffering, that enters deeply into its mystery, that draws life and hope from it.

Following her example, Father Chaminade suggests, we too may eventually penetrate something of the mystery of suffering. “The one who meditates on the mysteries of Calvary keeps the eyes of faith and of the mind riveted at the same time upon Jesus Christ, although never allowing them to wander from our Blessed Mother. In fact, what can we do on Calvary if we do not strive to imitate Mary?”

Contemplating Mary on Calvary, perhaps we too can come to some term with suffering—our own or that of others. Suffering is a fact, and the gracious acceptance of any fact draws us into greater harmony with the divine will. Suffering is a mystery, and our limited minds can penetrate only slightly into its depths. Suffering is salvific, for it is the very root of our redemption. “Unless a grain of wheat falls on the ground and dies. . . .”

The words attributed to genial Pope John XXIII are words of deepest faith, seeking to accept suffering without understanding, to receive suffering without protestation, to bear suffering with eth dignity of the Son of God, to share the sufferings of others after the example of Mary at the Cross. “The great tragedy of our world is not that there is so much suffering. It is that there is so much suffering wasted.”

158