WHAT A PICTURE THAT CARRIAGE MADE, BEARING THE MOST PRECIOUS PERSON IN THE WORLD

Since in the previous entry I touched on the imprisonment of the Pope, I reproduce here the narrative of the Pope’s release and passing near Aix in February 1814. Napoleon had expressly forbidden that the Pope pass through the city because he did not wish him to receive any popular acclamation. Nevertheless the people of Aix flocked to see him. It was a dangerous gesture, and hence Eugene gave himself a different identity in the letter and passed himself off as a woman.

The narrative is quite long, but it is filled with the excitement of the first time that Father de Mazenod had any contact with the Pope:

Too many things prevent me from attempting a long letter, and even if this one may never reach you, I am not going to postpone it any longer, because I want to give you news of myself. I am feeling well, apart from a sore on my heel, which I developed while escorting the carriage of the Holy Father. I was holding on to the door which, as you know, is very close to the wheel; but, that’s only a minor thing. I was only too happy to be able to hold on to that spot for such a long time, in spite of the inconvenience.

On Monday, the 7th, at 8 o’clock in the morning, we were alerted that the Holy Father would arrive at noon. The rumor spread like wildfire and immediately all shops closed down. In spite of the wind which was acting like an enraged schismatic that day, everyone ran out to meet him. Not only did big fat women like ourselves brave the wind; even the youngest and frailest little misses ran pell-mell with the rest of the population out beyond the city limits where the Holy Father was expected to pass.

Those who had given the orders that he was not to make any stops or even pass through any city if it were possible to avoid it, evidently failed to realize that the inhabitants knew how to get out of the city. The fact remains that only the dying remained behind.

As soon as the Holy Father appeared, a great shout went up from all sides: “Long live the Pope; Long live the Saintly Pope!” They took hold of the bridle, stopped the carriage and then practically carried both the carriage and the horses. It was an immense crowd and yet it wasn’t an unruly one. The joy, love, and respect expressed with all the warmth typical of Southern temperaments were so clearly portrayed on all faces that the Holy Father wept as he kept watching them, and blessing them.

I cut through the crowd until I reached the door of the carriage and I remained there until the horses were changed at a station outside the city. My old crony, the one you met at Grenoble, was with me. She lost her shoe and both of us lost our bonnets in the shuffle. We didn’t get them back until after we returned home. What a picture that carriage made, bearing the most precious person in the world and moving along through fifteen or twenty thousand people who kept shouting words of affection that would have touched the heart of any good father. It was positively thrilling.

When evening came, I took a carriage and rode all night, so as to be on hand when he awoke in the small village where he had been obliged to spend the night. I don’t need to tell you what took place there, but I must tell you what touched me more than anything else; the devotion of the people when they rushed upon the bed on which the Holy Father had lain, so that they might kiss it.

And that was how they received this man whom our worthy Prefect wanted to welcome as if he were a bourgeois. Wherever he went, he was treated like a Saint.

Letter to Madame Ginod, 10 February 1814 (Paris, Arch, de la Sainte-Enfance). Forbin-Janson papers. This Mme. Ginod was evidently a fictitious addressee, used as a cover up for Forbin-Janson.