He did not
believe in the apparitions; he had a loftier, more intellectual idea of
the manifestations of the Divinity. Only would he not be showing true
pity and mercy in silencing the scruples of his reason, the noble
prejudices of his faith, in presence of the necessity of granting that
bread of falsehood which poor humanity requires in order to be happy?
Doubtless, he begged the pardon of Heaven for allowing it to be mixed up
in what he regarded as childish pastime, for exposing it to ridicule in
connection with an affair in which there was only sickliness and
dementia. But his flock suffered so much, hungered so ravenously for the
marvellous, for fairy stories with which to lull the pains of life. And
thus, in tears, the Bishop at last sacrificed his respect for the dignity
of Providence to his sensitive pastoral charity for the woeful human
flock.
Then the Emperor in his turn gave way. He was at Biarritz at the time,
and was kept regularly informed of everything connected with this affair
of the apparitions, with which the entire Parisian press was also
occupying itself, for the persecutions would not have been complete if
the pens of Voltairean newspaper-men had not meddled in them. And whilst
his Minister, his Prefect, and his Commissary of Police were fighting for
common sense and public order, the Emperor preserved his wonted
silence--the deep silence of a day-dreamer which nobody ever penetrated.
Petitions arrived day by day, yet he held his tongue.
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