religion we enter the miraculous chapel around which we have so long
lingered with awe. The season of pilgrimages has not yet fairly opened,
and we find it quiet and unoccupied except by a stray peasant or two,
and a few Sisters of Calvary with sweet, gentle faces. We hasten to drop
our feeble round of prayer into the deep well fed by the devotion of
centuries. Over the altar is the famous statue of Our Lady of Roc
Amadour in a golden niche—black as ebony, perhaps from the smoke of the
candles and the incense of centuries, and dressed in a white muslin robe
spangled with gold. It is by no means a work of high art. Perhaps it is
as ancient as this place of pilgrimage. Tradition says it was executed
by the pious hands of St. Amadour himself, who was doubtless incapable
of expressing the devout sentiments that animated him. It is carved out
of a single piece of wood, and is now greatly decayed. The Virgin is
stiff in attitude. Her hair floats on her shoulders. Her hands rest on
the arms of the chair in which she is sitting, leaving the divine Child,
enthroned on her knee, with no support but that of his inherent nature.
A silver lamp, shaped like a fortress, with towers for the lights, hangs
before her, and beneath is a blazing stand of candles. The profusion of
lights in the chapels of popular devotion throughout France is truly
remarkable. It was the same in the middle ages. The old chronicles tell
us how the mother who sought the cure of a beloved child sometimes sent
his weight in wax to be burned before the powerful Virgin of Roc
Amadour. Others brought candles of the size of the limb they wished to
be healed. And those who had already obtained some supernatural favor
generally sent a candle once a year in token of gratitude. So numerous
were the lights formerly given to this chapel that there was scarcely
room for them. Poets even celebrated this profusion. Gauthier de Coinsy,
one of the most celebrated _cantadours_ of the thirteenth century, among
other poems has left one entitled _Du cierge que Notre Dame de Roc
Amadour envoya sur la vièle du ménestrel qui vièlait et chantait devant
sy image_, relating how our benign Lady accorded one of these votive
candles to a pious minstrel as he was singing her praises: Pierre de
Sygeland was in the habit of entering every church he passed to offer a
prayer and sing a song of praise to the sound of his viol. One day, as
he was prolonging his pious exercises before the altar of Notre Dame de
Roc Amadour, drawing every one in the church around him, both “_clerc et
lai_,” by the melody of his voice, he raised his eyes to the sacred
image of Mary and thus sang: “O sovereign Lady, _Dame de toute
courtoisie_, if my hymn and the sound of my viol be acceptable to thee,
be not offended at the guerdon I venture to implore: bestow on me, O
peerless Lady! one of the many tapers that burn at thy sacred feet.”
His prayer is heard. The candle descends in the presence of five hundred
persons and rests upon his viol. Friar Gerard, the sacristan, accuses
him of using incantations, and, seizing the candle irefully, restores it
to its place, taking good care to fasten it firmly down. Pierre
continues to play. The candle descends anew. The good brother,
suspecting him of magic, is more vexed than before and replaces the
candle. The enraptured minstrel—
“_En vièlant soupire et pleure,
La bouche chante et li cuers pleure_”
—sighing and weeping, singing with his lips and weeping in
heart—continues sweetly to praise the Mother of God. The candle descends
the third time.
“_Rafaict le cierge le tiers saut._”
The crowd, in its transport, cries: “Ring, ring the bells,
_Plus biax miracle n’avint jamais_
—greater miracle was never seen.” The minstrel, with streaming eyes,
returns the candle to her who has so miraculously rewarded his devotion,
and continues during the remainder of his life not only to sing the
praises of Our Lady of Roc Amadour, but to offer her every year a candle
still larger than the one she so graciously bestowed on him.
The moral of this old poem dwells on the obligation of honoring God, not
merely with the lips, but with a sincere heart:
“Assez braient, et assez crient,
Et leurs gorges assez estendent,
Mais les cordes pas bien ne tendent.
————
La bouche à Dieu ment et discorde
S’a li li cuers ne se concorde”
—that is, many bray, and scream, and distend their throats, but their
heart-strings are not rightly attuned.... The mouth lies to God, and
makes a discord, if the heart be not in harmony therewith.
Of the many miraculous chapels of the Virgin, consecrated by the
devotion of centuries, that of Roc Amadour is certainly one of the
oldest and most celebrated. Pope Pius II., in a bull of 1463,
unhesitatingly declares “it dates from the earliest ages of our holy
mother the church.” And Cardinal Baronius speaks of it as one of the
oldest in France. The original chapel, however, built by St. Amadour
himself in honor of his beloved Lady and Mistress, is no longer
standing. That was destroyed several centuries ago by a portion of the
impending cliff that had given way, but another was erected on the same
spot in 1479 by Denys de Bar, bishop and lord of Tulle, whose arms are
still to be seen over the door. This chapel was devastated in 1562 by
the Huguenots, who swept over the country, destroying all that was most
sacred in the eyes of Catholics. They gave not only a fatal blow to the
prosperity of the town of Roc Amadour, but pillaged all the sanctuaries,
carrying off the valuable reliquaries, the tapestry, the sacred vessels
and vestments, the fourteen silver lamps that burned before the Virgin,
the necklaces and earrings, and the pearls and diamonds, given by kings,
princes, and people of all ranks in token of some grace received. Their
booty amounted in value to fifteen thousand livres—an enormous sum at
that period. They only left behind an old monstrance, a few battered
reliquaries, and a processional cross of the twelfth century, carved out
of wood and ornamented with silver, still to be seen. They mutilated the
statues, burned the wood-carvings, and of course destroyed the bells,
which was one of their favorite amusements. The roofless walls were left
standing, however, and the venerated statue of Our Lady was saved, as
well as the sacrificial stone consecrated by St. Martial, and the
miraculous bell that rang without human hands whenever some far-off
mariner, in peril on the high seas, was succored by Notre Dame de Roc
Amadour.
The chapel has never fully recovered from this devastation. It was
repaired by the canons, but their diminished means did not allow them to
restore it to its former splendor. Not that it was ever of vast extent.
On the contrary, it is small, and the sanctuary occupies full one-half
of it. It is now severe in aspect. The wall at one end, as well as part
of the arch, is nothing but the unhewn cliff. The mouldings of the
doorways, some of the capitals, and the tracery of the low, flamboyant
windows are of good workmanship, but more or less defaced by the
fanatics of the sixteenth century and the revolutionists of the
eighteenth, who could meet on the common ground of hatred of the church.
Suspended beneath the lantern that rises in the middle of the chapel is
the celebrated miraculous bell, said to be the very one used by St.
Amadour to call the neighboring people to prayer. It is undoubtedly of
great antiquity. It is of wrought iron, rudely shaped into the form of a
dish about three feet deep and a foot in diameter.
The Père Odo de Gissey, of the Society of Jesus, in his history of Roc
Amadour published in 1631, devotes several chapters to this
_merveilleuse cloche_, in which he testifies that “though it has no
bell-rope, it sometimes rings without being touched or jarred, as
frequently happens when people on the ocean, in danger from a tempest,
invoke the assistance of Our Lady of Roc Amadour, the star of the sea.
Some persons,” he goes on to say, “may find it difficult to believe
this; but if they could see and read what I have the six or seven times
my devotion has led me to Roc Amadour, they would change their opinion
and admire the power manifested by the Mother of God.” The first miracle
he relates is of the fourteenth century, but when he came to Roc Amadour
the archives had been destroyed by the Calvinists, and he could only
glean a few facts here and there from papers they had overlooked. Most
of the cases he relates had been attested before a magistrate with
solemn oath. We will briefly relate a few of them.
On the 10th of February, 1385, about ten o’clock in the evening, the
miraculous bell was heard by a great number of persons, who testified
that it rang without the slightest assistance. Three days after it rang
again while the chaplain was celebrating Mass at Our Lady’s altar, as
was solemnly sworn to by several priests and laymen before an apostolic
notary. One instance the père found written on the margin of an old
missal, to the effect that March 5, 1454, the bell rang in an
astonishing manner to announce the rescue of some one who had invoked
Mary on the stormy sea. Not long after those who had been thus saved
from imminent danger came here from a Spanish port to attest their
miraculous deliverance.
In 1551 the bell was heard ringing, but the positive cause long remained
uncertain. It was not till a year after a person came from Nantes to
fulfil the vow of a friend rescued from danger by Our Lady of Roc
Amadour at the very time the bell rang.
The sailors of Bayonne and Brittany, especially, had great confidence in
the protection of Notre Dame de Roc Amadour, and many instances are
recorded of their coming with their votive offerings, sometimes of salt
fish, after escaping from the perilous waves. The sailors of Brittany
erected a chapel on their coast, to which they gave her name. It is of
the same style as that of Quercy, and the Madonna an exact copy of St.
Mary of Roc Amadour.
In those days, when the miraculous bell was heard the inhabitants of the
town used to come in procession to the chapel, and a solemn Mass of
thanksgiving was sung by the canons amid the joyful ringing of the
bells.
“The tuneful bells kept ever ringing
While they within were sweetly singing
Of Her whose garments drop alway
Myrrh, aloes, and sweet cassia.”
St. Amadour’s bell has not ceased to proclaim the power of Christ’s holy
Mother. It is still heard now and then softly announcing the benefit of
having recourse to her efficacious protection.
To many this may sound weird-like, and recall
“The wondrous Michael Scott,
A wizard of such dreaded fame
That when, in Salamanca’s cave,
Him listed his magic wand to wave,
The bells would ring in Notre Dame.”
We leave such to fathom the mystery. Our part is only that of the
historian. Blessed is he who finds therein something more than sounding
brass or tinkling cymbal!
The holy chapel is no longer adorned with the rich offerings of other
times, but there are still many objects that attest the piety of the
people and the clemency of Mary. On the rough cliff that forms one end
hang a great number of crutches and canes, and models of limbs, in token
of miraculous cures. A glass case suspended on the side wall contains
watches, rings, bracelets, gold chains, lockets, etc., the memorials of
grateful piety. At the side of the altar stand immense Limoges vases, an
offering from that city. And around the chapel are hung several votive
paintings, of no value as works of art, but full of touching beauty to
the eye of faith.
The most interesting of these is one offered by M. and Mme. de Salignac
de Lamothe Fénelon in gratitude for the restoration of their child to
health. The little Fénelon lies with a head of preternatural size in a
long box-like cradle with no rockers. Beside him kneel his father and
mother, the former with a long curled wig, a flowing scarlet robe, over
which is turned a Shaksperian collar, lace at the wrists, his hands
crossed on his breast, and his face bent as if in awe before the Virgin.
Mme. Fénelon wears an amber-colored tunic over a scarlet petticoat, with
deep lace around the low-necked waist. Her hands are prayerfully folded
and her face raised to the Virgin, who appears in the clouds holding in
her arms the infant Jesus, who bends forward with one hand extended in
blessing over the cradle—almost ready to escape from his Mother’s arms.
Madame Fénelon always manifested a particular devotion to Notre Dame de
Roc Amadour, and by her will of July 4, 1691, ordered her body to be
buried in the holy chapel, to which she bequeathed the sum of three
thousand livres, the rent of which continued to be paid till the
Revolution. She is buried near the door that leads to the church of
Saint-Sauveur.
The Château de Salignac, where Fénelon was born, and which had been in
his family from time immemorial, is not far from Roc Amadour. Old
documents go so far as to assert that St. Martial, when he came to
Aquitaine to preach the Gospel in the first century, was hospitably
received at this castle, and that St. Amadour, hearing of his arrival,
went there to see him.
Beyond the miraculous chapel of Our Lady is the church of Saint-Sauveur,
built in the eleventh century for the use of the canons. It is a large
edifice of a certain grandeur and severity of style in harmony with the
cliff which forms one end. Two immense pillars stand in the middle of
the nave, each surrounded by six columns, and between them is a large
antique crucifix quite worn by the kisses of the faithful who come here
to end their pilgrimage at the feet of Christ Crucified.
This church presents a striking aspect on great solemnities, with its
crowded confessionals, the Holy Sacrifice constantly going on at the
different altars amid solemn chants or touching hymns, and the long
lines of communicants moving devoutly to and from the table of the Lord.
Over all is the divine Form of Christ depicted on the arches in the
various mysteries of his earthly life, filling the church, as it were,
with his Presence. On the walls are the majestic figures of some of the
greatest pilgrims of the ages of faith. To mention a few of them: St.
Louis, King of France, came here in 1245 in fulfilment of a vow, after
recovering from a severe illness, accompanied by Queen Blanche, his
three brothers, and Alphonse, Count of Boulogne-sur-Mer, afterwards King
of Portugal. In 1324 came Charles-le-Bel and his queen, with King John
of Bohemia. In September, 1344, came John, Duke of Normandy, eldest son
of Philippe de Valois. In 1463 Louis XI., on his return from Béarn, paid
his devotions to Notre Dame de Roc Amadour on the 21st of July. St.
Englebert, Archbishop of Cologne, of illustrious birth, had such a
tender love for the Blessed Virgin that for many years he fasted every
Wednesday in her honor, and twice during his episcopate he visited her
chapel at Roc Amadour. Simon, Count de Montfort, came here in 1211 with
his German troops, who wished to pay their homage to the Mother of God
before returning to their own country.
To come down to recent times: It was at the feet of the Virgin of Roc
Amadour that M. Borie made his final choice of a missionary life that
won for him the glorious crown of martyrdom in Farther India at the age
of thirty.
The mill where M. Borie was born stands solitary on the border of a
stream, surrounded by chestnut-trees, in a deep, narrow, gloomy valley
of La Corrèze, near Roc Amadour—a humble abode, but the sanctuary of
peace, industry, and piety. When the news of his martyrdom came to this
sequestered spot, his heroic mother was filled with joy, in spite of her
anguish, and his youngest brother cried: “I am going! God calls me to
the land where my brother died. Mother, give me your blessing. I am
going to open heaven to my brother’s murderers!” He went; and we
remember hearing a holy Jesuit Father relate how, like the knights of
the olden time, he made his vigil before the altar of Our Lady of Roc
Amadour the night before he joined the sacred militia of the great
Loyola.
Beneath the church of Saint-Sauveur is the subterranean church of St.
Amadour, with low, ponderous arches and massive columns to sustain the
large edifice above. You go down into it as into a cellar. At each side
as you enter are elaborate carvings in the wood, one representing
Zaccheus in the sycamore-tree, eager to behold our Saviour as he passed;
the other shows him standing in the door of his house to welcome the
divine Guest. On the arches is painted the whole legend of St. Amadour.
Then there is Roland before the altar of the Virgin redeeming his sword
with its weight in silver, and beyond is a band of knights bringing it
back from the fatal battle-field. In another place you see St. Martial
of Limoges and St. Saturnin of Toulouse, coming together to visit St.
Amadour in his cave. And yonder is St. Dominic, who, with Bertrand de
Garrigue, one of his earliest disciples, passed the night in prayer
before the altar of Our Lady in the year 1219.
All that remains of the body of St. Amadour is enshrined in this church
behind the high altar.
A service for the dead was going on when we entered this crypt, with
only the priest and the beadle to sing it. Black candlesticks stood on
the altar, and yellow wax-lights around the bier. The church was full of
peasants with grave, devout faces and lighted candles in their hands.
The funeral chant, the black pall, the motionless peasants with their
lights, and this chill, tomb-like church of the eleventh century, all
seemed in harmony.
The pilgrim, of course, visits the chapel of St. Ann overhanging the
town, and that of St. Blaise, with its Roman arches of the thirteenth
century, built to receive the relics, brought by the Crusaders from the
East, of a holy solitary who lived many years in a cave of the
wilderness, the wild beasts around as submissive to him as to Adam in
Paradise.
The chapel of St. John the Baptist was founded in 1516 by a powerful
lord named Jean de Valon, who became a Knight of St. John of Jerusalem.
Out of piety towards Our Lady of Roc Amadour, he built this chapel,
authorized by the pope, as the burial-place of himself and his family,
and bequeathed the sum of five hundred livres to the prebends, as the
foundation for a Mass of requiem every Monday, and the Mass of Our Lady
every Saturday, for the remission of his sins and those of his friends
and benefactors.
The family of Valon, which still exists, has always shown a remarkable
devotion to Notre Dame de Roc Amadour. We read of a Dame de Valon whose
pilgrimage to this chapel in the twelfth century was marked by a
miracle. This family owned considerable property in the neighborhood,
and had a right to part of the revenues from the sale of the
_sportulas_, or _sportellas_, which were medals of lead bearing the
image of Our Lady on one side and of St. Amadour on the other. Sir
Walter Scott, in his _Quentin Durward_, deridingly depicts Louis XI.
with a number of leaden medals of like character in his hat. The pilgrim
who wore one needed no other safe-conduct in ancient times. His person
was so sacred he could even pass in safety through the enemy’s camp. In
1399, during the war between the French and English, the sanctuary of
Roc Amadour was frequented by both parties, and both camps regarded the
pilgrim hither with so much respect that if taken prisoner he was set
free as soon as his quality was discovered. Three of these old
almond-shaped _sportellas_ are still to be seen in the Hôtel de Cluny at
Paris.
The ancient standard of Our Lady of Roc Amadour was held in great
veneration. It was not only carried in religious processions, but
sometimes to the field of battle. Alberic, a monk of Trois Fonts,
relates that the Virgin appeared three Saturdays in succession to the
sacristan of Roc Amadour, and ordered her standard to be carried to
Spain, then engaged in a critical contest with the Moors. The prior, in
consequence, set forth with the sacred banner and arrived at the plain
of Las Navas on the 16th of July, 1212. The Christians had refused to
give battle the day previous, because it was the Lord’s day, but the
fight began early Monday morning. The Templars and Knights of Calatrava
had been put to flight and the army partly routed. At the last moment,
when all hope seemed lost, the prior of Roc Amadour unfurled the banner
of the Virgin. At the sight of the holy image of Mary with the divine
Babe every knee bent in reverence, fresh courage was infused into every
breast, the army rallied, and the fight was renewed to such purpose that
they smote the infidel hip and thigh. Sixty thousand of the enemy were
slain and a greater number taken captive. The archbishops of Toledo and
Narbonne, the bishop of Valencia, with many other prelates and a great
number of priests, sang the _Te Deum_ on the field of battle. The King
of Castile, Alfonso IX., had always shown a special devotion towards Our
Lady of Roc Amadour. In 1181 he consecrated to her service the lands of
Fornellos and Orbanella, in order, as he says in the charter, to solace
the souls of his parents and secure his own salvation. And, by way of
intimidating the lawless freebooter of those rough times, he severely
adds: “And should any one trespass in the least on this gift or violate
my intentions, let him incur the full wrath of God, and, like the
traitor Judas, be delivered over to the torments of hell as the slave of
the devil. Meanwhile, let him pay into the royal treasury the sum of one
thousand livres of pure gold, and restore twofold to the abbot of Roc
Amadour.”
This gift was afterwards confirmed by Ferdinand III., Ferdinand IV., and
Alfonso XI.
King Alfonso was not the only royal benefactor of the miraculous chapel.
Sancho VII., King of Navarre, for the weal of his soul and the souls of
his parents, gave in 1202 certain rents amounting to forty-eight pieces
of gold, to be employed in illuminating the church of St. Mary of Roc
Amadour. A candle was to burn night and day before the blessed image on
Christmas, Epiphany, Candlemas, Whitsunday, Trinity Sunday, the
Assumption, and All Saints’ day. And twenty-four candles, each weighing
half a pound, were to be placed on the altar on those days. The
remainder of the money was to be used for the incense.
Sancia, wife of Gaston V. of Béarn, and daughter of the King of Navarre,
sent the chapel of Roc Amadour a rich piece of tapestry wrought by her
own royal hands.
Count Odo de la Marche in 1119, during the reign of Louis-le-Gros,
offered the forest of Mount Salvy to God, the Blessed Mary of Roc
Amadour, and St. Martin of Tulle, free from all tax or impost, adding:
“And should any one presume to alienate this gift, let him incur the
anger of God and the saints, and remain for ever accursed with Dathan
and Abiram.”
In 1217 Erard de Brienne, lord of Rameru, allied by blood to the royal
families of Europe, and Philippine, his wife, daughter of Henry, Count
of Troyes and King of Jerusalem, made an offering of two candles to burn
night and day before the image of Notre Dame de Roc Amadour for the
redemption of their souls and the souls of their parents.
Alfonso, Count of Toulouse, brother of St. Louis, presented a silver
lamp to burn before the statue of Our Lady, and another was given by the
Countess de Montpensier, a French princess.
Letters are still extant by which Philip III., King of France, in 1276,
ratified the foundation of his uncle Alfonso, Count of Toulouse,
amounting to twenty livres of Touraine money, to be paid, one-half at
the Ascension and the other at All Saints, to keep a candle constantly
burning before the Virgin of Roc Amadour.
Pope Clement V. bequeathed a legacy to this church in 1314 that a wax
candle might burn continually in Our Lady’s chapel, in her honor and to
obtain the redemption of his soul. It was to be honorably placed in a
silver basin or sconce.
Savaric, Prince de Mauléon and lord of Tulle, celebrated for his
familiarity with military science and the elegance of his poesy, among
other gifts in 1218 gave the lands of L’Isleau, exempt from all tax, to
the church of St. Mary of Roc Amadour.
Louis of Anjou, afterwards King of Sicily, in 1365 ordered twenty livres
to be given annually to this church from his domain of Rouergue, out of
the love he bore the holy Virgin.
The Vicomte de Turenne, in 1396, assigned a silver mark annually from
one of his _seigneuries_ as a contribution to the support of the
miraculous chapel.