Urbain Grandier

A >> Alexandre Dumas, Pere >> Urbain Grandier


"'It was wrong of me to deny Grandier the confessor he asked for; God is
punishing me, God is punishing me!'

"On the following morning the journey was resumed, but the evident
distress of mind under which Pere Lactance laboured had so damped the
spirits of the party that all their gaiety had disappeared. Suddenly,
just outside Fenet, where the road was in excellent condition and no
obstacle to their progress apparent, the carriage upset for the second
time. Although again no one was hurt, the travellers felt that there was
among them someone against whom God's anger was turned, and their
suspicions pointing to Pere Lactance, they went on their way, leaving him
behind, and feeling very uncomfortable at the thought that they had spent
two or three days in his society.

"Pere Lactance at last reached Notre-Dame des Andilliers; but however
numerous were the miracles there performed, the remission of the doom
pronounced by the martyr on Pere Lactance was not added to their number;
and at a quarter-past six on September 18th, exactly a month to the very
minute after Grandier's death, Pere Lactance expired in excruciating
agony."

Pere Tranquille's turn came four years later. The malady which attacked
him was so extraordinary that the physicians were quite at a loss, and
forced to declare their ignorance of any remedy. His shrieks and
blasphemies were so distinctly heard in the streets, that his brother
Franciscans, fearing the effect they would have on his after-reputation,
especially in the minds of those who had seen Grandier die with words of
prayer on his lips, spread abroad the report that the devils whom he had
expelled from the bodies of the nuns had entered into the body of the
exorcist. He died shrieking--

"My God! how I suffer! Not all the devils and all the damned together
endure what I endure!" His panegyrist, in whose book we find all the
horrible details of his death employed to much purpose to illustrate the
advantages of belonging to the true faith, remarks--

"Truly big generous heart must have been a hot hell for those fiends who
entered his body to torment it."

The following epitaph which was placed over his grave was interpreted,
according to the prepossessions of those who read it, either as a
testimony to his sanctity or as a proof of his punishment:--

"Here lies Pere Tranquille, of Saint-Remi; a humble Capuchin preacher.
The demons no longer able to endure his fearlessly exercised power as an
exorcist, and encouraged by sorcerers, tortured him to death, on May
31st, 1638."

But a death about which there could be no doubt as to the cause was that
of the surgeon Mannouri, the same who had, as the reader may recollect,
been the first to torture Grandier. One evening about ten o'clock he was
returning from a visit to a patient who lived on the outskirts of the
town, accompanied by a colleague and preceded by his surgery attendant
carrying a lantern. When they reached the centre of the town in the rue
Grand-Pave, which passes between the walls of the castle grounds and the
gardens of the Franciscan monastery, Mannouri suddenly stopped, and,
staring fixedly at some object which was invisible to his companions,
exclaimed with a start--

"Oh! there is Grandier!

"Where? where?" cried the others.

He pointed in the direction towards which his eyes were turned, and
beginning to tremble violently, asked--

"What do you want with me, Grandier? What do you want?"

A moment later he added

"Yes-yes, I am coming."

Immediately it seemed as if the vision vanished from before his eyes, but
the effect remained. His brother-surgeon and the servant brought him
home, but neither candles nor the light of day could allay his fears; his
disordered brain showed him Grandier ever standing at the foot of his
bed. A whole week he continued, as was known all over the town, in this
condition of abject terror; then the spectre seemed to move from its
place and gradually to draw nearer, for he kept on repeating, "He is
coming! he is coming!" and at length, towards evening, at about the same
hour at which Grandier expired, Surgeon Mannouri drew his last breath.

We have still to tell of M. de Laubardemont. All we know is thus related
in the letters of M. de Patin:--

"On the 9th inst., at nine o'clock in the evening, a carriage was
attacked by robbers; on hearing the noise the townspeople ran to the
spot, drawn thither as much by curiosity as by humanity. A few shots
were exchanged and the robbers put to flight, with the exception of one
man belonging to their band who was taken prisoner, and another who lay
wounded on the paving-stones. This latter died next day without having
spoken, and left no clue behind as to who he was. His identity was,
however, at length made clear. He was the son of a high dignitary named
de Laubardemont, who in 1634, as royal commissioner, condemned Urbain
Grandier, a poor, priest of Loudun, to be burnt alive, under the pretence
that he had caused several nuns of Loudun to be possessed by devils.
These nuns he had so tutored as to their behaviour that many people
foolishly believed them to be demoniacs. May we not regard the fate of
his son as a chastisement inflicted by Heaven on this unjust judge--an
expiation exacted for the pitilessly cruel death inflicted on his victim,
whose blood still cries unto the Lord from the ground?"

Naturally the persecution of Urbain Grandier attracted the attention
not only of journalists but of poets. Among the many poems which
were inspired by it, the following is one of the best. Urbain
speaks:--

"From hell came the tidings that by horrible sanctions
I had made a pact with the devil to have power over women:
Though not one could be found to accuse me.
In the trial which delivered me to torture and the stake,
The demon who accused me invented and suggested the crime,

And his testimony was the only proof against me.

The English in their rage burnt the Maid alive;
Like her, I too fell a victim to revenge;
We were both accused falsely of the same crime;
In Paris she is adored, in London abhorred;
In Loudun some hold me guilty of witchcraft,
Some believe me innocent; some halt between two minds.

Like Hercules, I loved passionately;
Like him, I was consumed by fire;
But he by death became a god.
The injustice of my death was so well concealed
That no one can judge whether the flames saved or destroyed me;
Whether they blackened me for hell, or purified me for heaven.

In vain did I suffer torments with unshaken resolution;
They said that I felt no pain, being a sorcerer died unrepentant;
That the prayers I uttered were impious words;
That in kissing the image on the cross I spat in its face;
That casting my eyes to heaven I mocked the saints;
That when I seemed to call on God, I invoked the devil

Others, more charitable, say, in spite of their hatred of my crime,
That my death may be admired although my life was not blameless;
That my resignation showed that I died in hope and faith;
That to forgive, to suffer without complaint or murmur,
Is perfect love; and that the soul is purified
From the sins of life by a death like mine."