The Secret of the
Curé de Ar
Compiled, Partially Adapted, and Arranged
by Pauly Fongemie

SOURCES USED:
Secrets of the Saints, Henri Ghéon, 1944;
From the Housetops Magazine, Vol. XXIV, No. 3, Serial No 53;
The Life of the Curé de Ars, Abbé Alfred Monnin, 1861;
and Eucharistic Meditations, Curé de Ars, Eccles. Appr. 1923

+ + + + + + +

THE SPECIAL PRODIGIES
AND GRACES OF THE SAINT

HIS NATURAL QUALITIES AND SUPERNATURAL GRACES HIS MINGLED OPENNESS AND RESERVE HIS SINGULAR CONSISTENCY HIS FAITH AND LOVE HIS ZEAL FOR SOULS This entire sub-section is an extract from Monin. HIS NATURAL QUALITIES AND SUPERNATURAL GRACES "THE venerable Curé of Ars," says M. Monnin, "exhibited in his person all the characteristics which constitute, if we may be allowed to use the expression, the physiology oF the Saint. Sanctity IS ordinarily accompanied by certain exterior signs, which indicate the sensible presence of the Divine element in the human personality---the life of God in us. To have life, in the language of the Gospel, is to have Jesus Christ, the Life Eternal, dwelling in us. Sanctity is, then, nothing else but the life of Jesus Christ in man, whom it transforms and deifies, so to speak, by anticipation, making him to appear, even here below, what he shall be when the Lord shall come in His glory, and 'we shall see Him as He is, without cloud or shadow, and be transformed into His likeness from glory to glory, as by the Spirit of God.' This transformation is already begun in the Christian, who, retracing, line by line, upon his soul the image of the Son of God, is at last able to say, 'Christ is my life;'[ Phil. i. 21] 'I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me.' [Gal. ii. 20] The Saint bears Christ within him, not only in his soul, but in his body. Jesus Christ breathes in his thoughts, his sentiments, his actions,---in the very throbbings of his heart, and the features of his countenance, which reflect, as far as it is possible for the human face to do, the dignity, grace, and loveliness of the Redeemer of men.   "The whole person of the Saint thus becomes a most pure and clear crystal, through which shines forth the glorious and Divine form of Christ, our beloved Lord, that the life of Jesus may be manifested in our mortal flesh. [2 Cor. iv. 11]   "This fact alone renders the Divine action evident, and in some sort palpable, to experience, and even to scientific observation. It is the intimate fusion of the natural and supernatural order, the shining forth of the Divinity, through the transparent veil of the body. And such is the energetic power of this manifestation, that men most destitute of religious feeling are subdued by the ascendancy exercised over all around them by the Saints. They recognize them, they know not why, as superior beings; they admire without understanding them; as those who have been born blind feel the sun's rays, though they see them not. "To M. Vianney might be applied the words in which the Père Condren was described by M. Olier: 'What appeared outwardly was but the shell of what was really there. He was like one of the Hosts on our altars. Outwardly we behold the accidents and appearances of bread, but inwardly it is Jesus Christ.' So was it with this great servant of God. And this is the secret of the wonderful power which he exercised over the human heart. Without thinking of it, without knowing it, without willing it, this man, so weak in bodily presence, drew all who approached him within the sphere of his attraction. Once to meet his eye or hear his voice was to be fascinated by his look and word. Men of the world, accustomed to the power of far different spells, have acknowledged that, after they had seen the Curé of Ars, his image seemed to haunt them, and his remembrance to follow them, whithersoever they went. It would have been difficult indeed to image to oneself a form more clearly marked by the impress of sanctity." M. Monnin thus describes the outward appearance which, in his later years, so lightly veiled the indwelling of Jesus: "V. Vianney was small of stature; his form, though not devoid of a certain degree of vigour, indicated a highly nervous temperament. Age and toil had not robbed his limbs of their elasticity and suppleness. His movements were quick and decided, and their agility bore tokens of a childhood developed in the healthy exercise of rustic labour. By a rare privilege, he preserved to the last the full use of the organs and faculties necessary for the fulfillment of his mission. Thus his hearing retained its acuteness, his sight its keenness, his mind its clearness, and his memory its freshness, even to the day of his death. Yet his body had reached such a degree of extenuation as to seem almost immaterial. There seemed to be nothing under the large folds of his cassock. His step, though heavy, was rapid, as of a man who, weary and exhausted, yet hastens on in the service of God. His head fell slightly forward on his breast, from the habit of recollection and adoration. His hair fell thick and long, like a white aureola round that calm expressive head; beneath the sweet majestic expression of which might perhaps be discerned some traces of the early rusticity of his life,---a rusticity now tempered and subdued by benevolence. On that emaciated face there was no token of aught earthly or human; it bore the impress of Divine grace alone. It was but the frail and transparent covering of a soul which no longer belonged to earth. The eyes alone betokened life; they shone with an exceeding lustre. There was a kind of supernatural fire in M. Vianney's glance, which continually varied in intensity and expression. That glance dilated and sparkled when he spoke of the love of God; the thought of sin veiled it with a mist of tears; it was by turns sweet and piercing, terrible and loving, childlike and profound. It was a very furnace of tenderness and compassion when fixed upon anyone. It had then that mysterious power of attraction bestowed by our Lord upon the eyes which are continually raised to Him; and, wonderful to say, that glance, which searched all hearts, and before which all spirits bowed, never affrighted anyone.   "The most remarkable thing, next to the eyes, in the countenance of the Curé of Ars was the profile, the lines of which were bold, harmonious, and well defined. Although the sweetness and serenity of his face betokened the Divine peace which dwelt within, its characteristic and familiar expression, when at rest, was that supernatural melancholy which belongs to the habitual sentiment of the invisible while yet in this visible sphere. It was deepened by the continual contact with sin and sorrow, impressing many a bitter thought upon his soul, and casting their mournful reflection upon his countenance. But when he came forth from that habitual state of recollection to converse with men, it was with a bright and gracious smile, which was ever ready to respond to every look which was turned upon him. There was not one of his features which did not seem to smile." Such was the outward man of this holy priest of God, as described by one admitted to his intimate familiarity, and afterwards privileged to close those eyes, when their marvelous light had been withdrawn from earth, and to compose for its last (we might almost say its first) repose that frame which had laboured and suffered night and day for so many weary years in the service of Christ. A remarkable circumstance is noticed by M. Monnin, which is indeed evident to anyone who has seen a portrait of the Curé of Ars and of the infidel philosopher of Ferney, ---the striking resemblance in the shape and outline of the face between the two. The expressions are as strongly contrasted as the forms are alike; but that there should be even this material resemblance between Voltaire and J. B. Vianney,---two men who seem to stand at the very extremities of human nature; the one as intense in his love as the other in his hatred of Jesus Christ,---is a thought which thrills through the heart with a pang akin to what we feel on contemplating the infancy of Judas. There was an hour when the baptismal water fell upon his infant brow, and the soul of that most miserable and wicked old man was as lovely and as beloved in the sight of God as his who in feature was so closely to resemble him. And now who can help shuddering at the thought of the great gulf fixed? Oh, holy and humble lover of Jesus, pray for us now, while there is yet time for us to learn to love Him like thee, lest we also fall after the same example of pride and unbelief!   If the power of sanctity thus ennobles and transfigures the most earthly and material portion of our being, still greater is its empire over that which is in its nature spiritual. The influence of grace in raising, quickening, and deepening the mental faculties is seen with especial clearness in the history of M. Vianney.   "We have seen," says M. Monnin, "what he was as a young man; we have followed him in his maturity; we have not concealed the fact that he did not possess various or extensive human learning. What means had he of acquiring it? But he had what supplies the place of knowledge, and, if need be, of experience,---the faith which foresees all things and knows all things. He had great practical wisdom, a profound sense of the ways of God and the miseries of man, a wonderful sagacity, a quick and sure practical discernment, an acute, judicious, ana penetrating mind. He was, besides, endowed with a supernatural memory, an exquisite tact, and a power of observation which would have been alarming to those who approached him but for the sweet charity which set its indulgent seal upon all his judgments.   "It was once observed in the presence of a learned professor of philosophy, 'There is great sanctity in the Curé of Ars, and nothing but sanctity.' " 'There is,' was the reply, 'great illumination. In his conversation it is cast upon every kind of subject,---upon God and upon the world, upon men and things, upon the present and the future. Oh, how well do we see, how far and wide do we see, when we see by the light of the Holy Spirit! To what a lofty pitch of sense and reason is a man elevated by faith!' "Absorbed as he was in the functions of his ministry, M. Vianney was indifferent to none of those exterior questions which affect, either directly or indirectly, religious and social order. He had clear and ready perceptions upon many subjects hard of solution to the most skillful and practiced intellects, and yet plain to him, from the one point whence he viewed all things, human and Divine,---the glory of God, and the salvation of souls." Nor was it only in the graver and severer exercises of the intellect and judgment that the faculties of this holy man had acquired so wonderful a development. "Hard as he was to himself," says his friend, "and bearing on his whole person the traces of most austere penance, he was gentle, cheerful, and even playful in conversation. With those whom he knew and loved he was perfectly frank and open. Unhappily, it would be impossible to convey in writing the charm of that happy intercourse. A smile cannot be written down, and the conversation of the Curé of Ars was like the smile of his soul. He never laughed but with this smile of the soul, which rarely quitted his lips, encouraging gaiety, and inspiring confidence. The Spirit of God, which dwelt in him, gave to his lightest word an incomparable exactness, fitness, an simplicity. The exquisite sensibility with which his heart was endowed shone through his expressions, animating, warming, and colouring them." HIS MINGLED OPENNESS AND RESERVE "At the end of the long procession on the feast of Corpus Christi, some of his friends wished him to take some refreshment. He declined, saying, 'It needs not. I want nothing. How should I be tired? I have been bearing Him Who bears me.' A religious once said to him, with great simplicity: "Father, people believe generally that you are very ignorant." "They are quite right, my child. But it matters not. I can teach you more than you will practice." Notwithstanding his decided taste for solitude, he loved to open his heart to those whom he loved and trusted. He seldom, indeed, spoke of himself; but when he did, it was with simplicity and openness, and always of such matters as were most humiliating to him. Of the gifts and graces with which he was favoured he spoke to no one. Thus, M. Monnin tells us that "he never revealed himself entirely; he led you to the threshold of his soul, and stopped you there." "How often," adds he, "have we said to ourselves, when we left him after those evening conversations, which it was the privilege of the missionaries to enjoy, 'How blessed must it be in Paradise, if the company of the Saints is thus sweet upon earth!'"   "At the close of his day of heavy, wearisome labour, standing before his little table, or at the chimney-corner, that his chilled and cramped limbs might feel the warmth of the fire, the innocence and joy of his heart found utterance in a thousand bright plays of fancy, and in thoughts and images full of grace and sweetness. "According to the counsel of St. Paul, he avoided vain and profane discourses, and idle questions, which minister strife rather than edification. If any trifling debate arose in his presence, he kept a modest silence, as if he feared, by giving an opinion, to disoblige one of the parties. If appealed to, he intervened by some gracious and conciliating word, or by the enunciation of some of those great principles which cannot be disputed, and which restore peace between adversaries by bringing them off the ground of division to that on which strife is no longer possible. His soul hovered, like an angelic spirit, above the medley of vulgar passions and interests. He looked at everything from that point of view, familiar to the Saints, where light dwells without shadow. Conscience was his only horizon." HIS SINGULAR CONSISTENCY "One remarkable feature in the character of the Curé of Ars, and one to which all who had the privilege of living in familiar intercourse with him will agree in bearing testimony, was its singular consistency. There was never a single moment in which his brow did not bear, with unruffled majesty, the pure and delicate aureola of sanctity. In whatever position he might be found, wherever he was seen or heard, the Saint was always visible. Almost all men have their bad days, their hours of weakness and obscurity; when the stoutest hearts betray themselves, and the most masculine courage quails. It was not so with our venerable father. He might be observed closely and leisurely; his soul might be sounded to its most secret depths, and his life scrutinized in its minutest details, and nothing was lost in the analysis. He was never seen to act but in the most perfect manner; never to take any but the wisest and most heroic part; never to choose any but the most excellent objects. In all his actions he combined the utmost purity of intention with the greatest intensity of fervour; so that we know not, in truth, where to find an instance in which he could have been reproached with doing less well that which he might have done better. His least actions taught as eloquently as his greatest; and this is important to state, that the twofold instruction of his word and his works may survive him in that marvelous harmony of excellence by which even prejudice is disarmed. That which was visible to the world of this miraculous existence is nothing to what was hidden. Many have known the active life of this holy priest of Jesus Christ; it is above admiration; from whatever point we consider it, it is a miracle. Some few have witnessed his life of mortification; it would have been fearful even in days when penance was not so rare a thing as it is now. Very few indeed have been admitted to the knowledge of his interior life; and it is by that chiefly that we must estimate him. "The tender and considerate kindness, which was one of this holy man's loveliest qualities, sprang from his total self-forgetfulness. He who never sought for sympathy under the severest sufferings of mind or body had all his own to give to those of other men, for he wasted none upon his own. He was kind to all; kind, most especially, to the poor, the weak, the ignorant, and the sinful. He was prodigal of consideration and attention for the meanest beggars who approached him, seeking not only to relieve, but to please them. He was sedulous in warding off from those around him the slightest pain, the most trifling contradiction.   "He had the same heart on earth," says M. Monnin, "that he has now in Heaven." HIS FAITH AND LOVE "THE Curé of Ars," says M. Monnin, "had received the gift of faith in a supereminent degree. His intimate union with God had rendered Divine truths sensible and palpable to him. "Faith was the moving principle of his life. It was his only science; it explained all things to him, and by it he explained all things to others. 'The faith of M. le Curé,' says Catherine, 'is so vivid, that he seems to see the things of which he speaks. He is so penetrated with the thought of the Real Presence of our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament, that he speaks of it in all his instructions. He would often repeat: Oh, how blessed are our eyes, which behold our good God! and this with such an accent of intense joy, and an expression of such radiant delight, that it seemed as if he were beholding the vision of God.' "Flashes of joy would sometimes flit across his eyes, which spoke of a bliss derived from no created source. He used to say, 'We have but a distant faith, as if our good God were on the other side of the sea, some three hundred miles oft: If, like the Saints, we had a living, penetrating faith, like them we should see our Lord. There are priests who see Him every day in the Mass.' We are told: 'The idea that the holy curé actually saw our Lord at the Altar, and knew Him in the breaking of bread, occurred to all those who had the happiness to be present at his Mass. He seemed touched by a ray of the Divine glory. His heart, mind, soul, and senses were absorbed in God. In the midst of the crowd, and under the influence of the multitude of eyes which were fixed upon him, he enjoyed as undisturbed communion with our Lord as if he had been in the solitude of his poor chamber. He bathed His sacred feet with an abundant effusion of holy tears, which usually flowed during the whole time of the celebration of the Divine Mysteries. M. Vianney's Mass was neither too quick nor too slow. He made his own devotion give way to the service of his neighbour. The only time, as we are told by one of the pilgrims who used to serve his Mass, at which he was longer than other priests, was that just before Communion. He then seemed to hold a mysterious colloquy with our Lord. He looked lovingly at the Sacred Host. His lips moved; then he stopped, as if listening; and again his lips moved, as if in reply; at last, by a visible effort, as if cutting short a conversation with a beloved friend, he consumed the Sacred Species.' "When the Blessed Sacrament was exposed, he gazed upon it with such an ecstatic smile, that a brother priest, who once caught the expression of his countenance when thus in adoration, instinctively turned towards the tabernacle, as if expecting to see something. He saw nothing; but the expression of M. Vianney's face had struck him so forcibly, that he said: 'I believe the time will come when the Curé of Ars will live upon the Holy Eucharist alone.   "The Curé of Ars," says M. Monnin, "had received the gift of prayer in a supereminent degree. His soul was more closely united to God than to his body. In the midst of his most overwhelming labours, he never relaxed from his state of holy contemplation, dwelling continually in the presence of God, and beholding Him with a tender love in all His creatures. "His mind, being free from the earthly vapors which darken the intellect and cloud its clearness, received, instead of the limited and imperfect notions of human science, those transcendent lights which enabled him to comprehend the relations of all things with their Creator and their destination in the wonderful order of His purposes. Dwelling thus, by continual contemplation, in a region far above this world, he used his purified senses only for the practice of virtue. His will tended solely to the Supreme Good; but all this was enclosed in the invisible sanctuary of the soul; the sensible part had no portion in it. No outward sign was wont to reveal the operations of grace, except a pious and recollected bearing, indicating great interior concentration, but without a shadow of affectation or singularity. He was not one of those who, in the words of the dear St. Elizabeth, seemed to wish to frighten the good God by a sad or severe demeanor; he gave Him what he could cheerfully, and with a glad heart. He was far from all exterior exaggeration, and adverse to it in others." "He once advised a good priest who came to him for confession, and whose devotion struck him as being somewhat demonstrative, not to assume any posture in Church which might attract attention. 'My friend,' added he, 'do not let us make ourselves remarkable.'   "M. Vianney," says his biographer, "had but one only thought,---but that ardent, generous, active, indefatigable,---to love God, and to make Him to be loved. God, and nothing but God! God always! God everywhere! God in all things! Deus meus et omnia! The whole life of the Curé of Ars is summed up in this sublime monotony. "Thirty years of an existence, of which every day was like all the rest. Always God's work; never the slightest admixture of his own; never did he allow himself the most trifling relaxation; never an instant's respite; never a passing indulgence of fancy, a momentary glance of curiosity. "The light and fire of this intense love of God fell upon all, whether persons or things, which were related in whatever degree to the object of his supreme affection. From the Sacred Humanity in its Ineffable Presence on the Altar, from the Immaculate Mother of God, from the spouse of Christ purchased by His Blood, and her august head His Vicar on earth, to the least object bearing her blessing upon it; he loved and reverenced each in its degree, as stamped with the Divine image and superscription of the King of Heaven and earth. He loved pictures, crosses, scapulars, confraternities, holy water, relics above all; of which he used to say that he had more than five hundred in his possession. He belonged to the Third Order of St. Francis, and to many pious confraternities and sodalities. His devotion from early childhood to his Immaculate Mother has been already noticed. It was indeed, next to the love of Jesus, the very passion of his heart. One of his great practices was to recommend a novena to the Immaculate Heart of Mary. "I have so often drawn from that fountain," he used to say, "that I should have exhausted it long ago, were it not inexhaustible." He dwelt and conversed with the Saints as his familiar friends. After St. Joseph, St. John Baptist, and St. Philomena, there were none whom he invoked more frequently than St. Teresa and St. Francis. His special devotion to the Seraphic Patriarch no doubt rested on a certain very perceptible resemblance of spirit between himself and the great pattern of poverty and simplicity. HIS ZEAL FOR SOULS He had a great devotion to the Souls in Purgatory, for whom he offered up all his sleepless and suffering nights, and a third part of his daily labours, crosses and tears; the other two being devotion to the expiation of his own sins, and of the sins of his brethren still on earth. "The fear of the judgments of God was," says M. Monnin, "his predominate thought; despair his besetting temptation." And yet the overmastering power of the love of Jesus with him, as with Blessed Paul of the Cross [image to the right], cast out fear, and made him long for death, that he might look upon His face Who was, even here "his life, his Heaven, his present, his future." Once, after listening to one of his thrilling discourses upon the bliss of Heaven, someone asked him what was to be done to obtain so glorious a recompense. "My friend," replied he, "this only is needed---grace and the cross." "O Jesus," would he often exclaim, with his eyes full of tears, "to know Thee is to love Thee! Did we but know how our Lord loves us, we should die of joy. Our only happiness on earth is to love God, and to know that God loves us. To be loved by God, to be united to God, to live in the presence of God, to live for God---oh blessed life, and blessed death!" Hearing the birds singing before his window, he exclaimed with a sigh: "Poor little birds! you were created to sing, and you sing. Man was created to love God, and he loves hIm not." As we read these words we seem to catch a passing fragrance from the Fioretti of St. Francis; and again, "There was something which can never be forgotten in the tone in which he used to pronounce the adorable name of Jesus, and in which he would say, our Lord---as if his whole heart were overflowing on his lips." Who does not think of the long night's reiteration of Deus meus et omnia, or The Little Babe of Bethlehem, which was as honey in the mouth of the Seraph of Assisi? "It is impossible," says Catherine Lassagne, "to conceive how much M. le Curé had at heart the salvation of souls." He laboured and wept for them by day; he suffered for them by night. He had prayed that he might suffer much during the day for the conversion of sinners, and during the night for the Souls in Purgatory; and his prayer had been amply granted. A burning fever and unceasing cough tormented him on his poor pallet. He would rise from it at intervals of a quarter of an hour to try to get some relief out of his bed. And when, worn out with pain and unrest, he was just beginning to find some repose, the time came for him to rise for his day of unremitting labour. So worn and weary was he that he had to drag himself along from one chair to another; and yet, without even a thought of giving himself another moment's rest, he went eagerly whither he was called by his burning love for souls, and by the aid of the Good Master Who proportions His aid to the need of those who look to Him alone, was enabled to labour on, day after day, and year after year, in the same unceasing round of daily toil and nightly martyrdom. "You have prayed," said he one day to a parishioner, who had been complaining that he could not touch the hearts of the people,---"you have prayed, you have sighed, you have wept. But have you fasted? Have you watched? Have you slept on the ground? Have you taken the discipline? Unless you come to this you have not done all." "M. le Curé," said one of the missionaries, "if out Lord were to give you your choice, whether to ascend at once to Heaven, or to remain on earth to labour for the conversion of sinners, which would you do?" "I think, my friend, that I should remain here." "Oh, M. le Curé, is it possible? The Saints are so happy in Heaven; no more temptation---no more miseries." With an angelic smile he replied, "True, my friend; but the Saints cannot labour for God. They have laboured well; for God punishes idleness, and rewards only labour. But they can no longer, like us, glorify God by sacrifices for the salvation of souls." "Would you remain on earth till the end of the world?" "I think I would." "In that case you would have plenty of time before you; you would not then get up so early in the morning?" "Oh, yes, my friend, at midnight. I am not afraid of trouble. I am only afraid of appearing before God with my poor curé's life. But for this thought, I should be the happiest priest in the world." VIEW THE WHOLE RELIQUARY

Contact Us

HOME-----------PRIESTS-------------SAINTS

www.catholictradition.org/Priests/vianney9.htm