THE FOUNDLINGS
M. VINCENT was passing one day through the streets of Paris on one of
his errands of mercy when he saw a beggar mutilating a newborn baby in
order to expose it to the public as an object of pity. Snatching the
poor little creature out of the hands of its tormentor, Vincent
carried it to the "Couche St. Landry," an institution which had been
founded for the care of children left homeless and deserted in the
streets.
The state of things in that household filled him with horror. The
"Couche" was managed by a widow, who, helped by two servants, received
about four hundred children within the year. These unfortunate little
creatures, in a state of semi-starvation and utter neglect, were
crowded together into two filthy holes, where the greater number died
of pestilence. Of those who survived, some were drugged with laudanum
to silence their cries, while others were put an end to by any other
method that suggested itself to the wretched women into whose hands
they had fallen.
The sight of the "Couche" was one that could not fail to rouse any
mother's heart to indignation. Vincent took one or two of the Ladies
of Charity to the place and let them judge for themselves. The result
was a resolve to rescue the little victims at any cost.
It was not difficult to get possession of the babies; their inhuman
guardians were in the habit of selling them for the modest sum of one
franc each to anyone who would take them off their hands. But the cost
of maintenance was a more serious matter. A house was taken near the
Collège des Bons Enfants, and twelve of the miserable little victims
were ransomed and installed there under the care of Louise le Gras and
the Sisters of Charity.
But this was only a beginning. The work appealed all the more strongly
to the Ladies of Charity for the reason that most of the babies were
unbaptized. It was a question of saving souls as well as bodies, and
every effort was made to empty the Couche. The Ladies, often at the
cost of real self-denial, gave every penny they could afford; Louis
XIII and his Queen, Anne of Austria, contributed liberally. In ten
years' time Vincent's institution had grown to such an extent that it
was able to open its doors to all the foundlings in Paris.
Four thousand children had been adopted and cared for, and the numbers
were still increasing; finances had been stretched to the breaking
point; there came a moment when it seemed impossible to meet the
expenses any longer. The Thirty Years' War was raging, and the eastern
provinces of France, which had served as a battlefield for the
nations, were reduced to the utmost misery. There were many other
claims on the purses of the Ladies of Charity; the time had come when
it looked as if there was nothing to be done but sorrowfully give up
an undertaking that was altogether beyond their power.
But the very thought of such a possibility nearly broke Vincent's
heart; he determined to make one last effort, and, gathering the
Ladies together, laid the case before them in all simplicity.
"I ask of you to say only one word," he said to them: "will you go on
with the work or no? You are perfectly free; you are bound by no
promise. Yet, before you decide, reflect for one moment on what you
have done, and what you are doing. Your loving care has preserved the
lives of a very great number of children, who without your help would
have been lost in time as well as eternity; for these innocent
creatures have learned to know and serve God as soon as they were able
to speak. Some of them are beginning to work and to be
self-supporting. Does not so good a beginning promise yet better
results?
"Ladies, it was pity and charity that moved you to adopt these little
ones as your children. You were their mothers by grace when their
mothers by nature had deserted them. Are you going to abandon them
now? If you cease to be their mothers you become their judges; their
lives are in your hands. I will now ask you to give your votes: it is
time for you to give sentence and to make up your minds that you have
no longer any mercy to spare for them. If in your charity you continue
to take care of them, they will live; if not, they will certainly die.
It is impossible to deny what your own experience must tell you is
true."
Vincent paused; his voice was trembling with emotion; he was answered
by the tears of the assembly. It was decided that at any cost the
Foundling Hospital must be supported. The work was saved. The
practical question of expenses, however, remained yet to be faced, and
although the King increased his subscription, the funds were still
insufficient. But the Ladies made still greater sacrifices; the
Sisters of Charity limited themselves to one meal a day, and Vincent,
who had already reduced himself to the direst poverty, strained every
nerve to help.
The Foundling Hospital was thus kept going until some years after
Vincent's death, when the State took over the responsibility, and the
work ceased to depend on voluntary support.
Of all the good works on which he had spent himself, this was the one,
it is said, that appealed to him the most strongly. He knew every baby
in the Foundling Hospital by name; the death of any one of them caused
him a very real sorrow, and he would appear among them at the most
unexpected hours. Their innocence and happiness rejoiced him, and he
delighted in watching their pretty baby ways. At the sight of his
kind, homely face, they would gather round him, clinging to his hands
or his cassock, certain of a smile or a caress. He came across much
that was neither innocent nor attractive in his dealings with the
world; he was one who never judged harshly, and who could always see
in man, however depraved, the image of his Maker; yet the innocence
and purity of his own soul found their best solace in the company of
these little creatures whom he had rescued from a double death. They
were his recreation in the moments of depression which all who work
for the welfare of mankind must experience and which are more intense
in proportion as the zeal is stronger.
He was blamed one day, when the difficulty of providing for the
foundlings was at its height, for having spent upon them alms destined
for the support of the Mission.
"Ah!" he cried, "do you think Our Lord will be less good to us because
we put the welfare of these poor children before our own? Since that
merciful Saviour said to His disciples, 'suffer the little children to
come unto Me,' can we who wish to follow Him reject these babies when
they come to us?"
But if the foundlings had a large share of Vincent's heart, it was
great enough for all who were in suffering or distress. The misery in
the provinces of Lorraine and Picardy was hardly to be described; the
people were literally dying of hunger. The Ladies of Charity had at
first come nobly to the rescue, but the Foundling Hospital was now
absorbing all their funds; they could do no more. Then Vincent
conceived the idea of printing leaflets describing the sufferings of
the people and what was being done to help them by the Mission
Priests. These were sold at the church doors, in the public squares
and in the streets, and people bought them with such avidity that
Vincent soon realized a steady little income.
In days when there were no such things as newspapers, regular tidings
from the provinces were as welcome as they were unexpected. "God
showered such blessings on the work," says Vincent, "that the greater
number of those who read these narratives opened their hands for the
relief of the poor."
The next step was to institute in all the regions where famine was
prevalent public soup kitchens, where nourishing soup, made at the
lowest possible cost, was portioned out among the poor. Vincent
himself gave minute directions for its making, prescribing the
ingredients so that the greatest number of people might be maintained
at the least expense.
In many places laid waste by fire and sword, the dead remained
unburied for days or even weeks. Heaps of filth and garbage were left
to rot at the doors of houses and in the streets; pestilence and fever
reigned supreme. Here, again, the Priests of the Mission and the
Sisters of Charity devoted themselves to the work that no one else
would do. Organizing themselves into bands, they went about burying
the dead, nursing the sick and cleansing the streets, many of them
dying of the pestilence.
It was very necessary, moreover, to take steps to bring back some kind
of prosperity to the devastated country. Seeds and grain were
distributed among the peasants, who were encouraged to cultivate the
land and taught the best methods of doing so. All these different
undertakings were carried out with the regularity and practical common
sense that were characteristic of the sons of St. Vincent de Paul,
accustomed as they were to brave hardship and danger without a thought
of their own safety.
If their Superior asked much of others, he himself set the example in
generosity. It was said of him that he never could keep anything for
his own use, either clothes or money; everything that came into his
hands went straight to the poor. There were days at St. Lazare when it
seemed uncertain where the daily bread was to come from, or whether it
was to come at all; but Vincent put his trust in God, who never failed
him, and he gave while there was anything to give.
Several times, while he was organizing relief for the eastern
provinces, his heart almost failed him at the magnitude of the work he
had undertaken, and it was at one of these moments that he dared to
face the terrible Richelieu, to demand peace in the name of the
suffering people.
"Monseigneur!" he cried, appearing before the great Cardinal with
tears streaming down his cheeks, "give us peace! Have pity on France
and give us peace." Richelieu's heart was certainly none of the
softest, but even he seems to have been touched by this earnest
appeal. At all events, he showed no anger.
"I wish for peace," he declared, "and I am taking means to procure it,
but it does not depend on me alone"; and he dismissed Vincent with an
unwonted urbanity. His was not the only hard nature that was softened
by contact with St. Vincent de Paul. The love of this man for his
fellow men was infectious, for it was born of his love for Christ.