Witness account of the
Passion suffered by Marie-Julie Jahenny, (Abbé Gouron),
Friday November 8, 1878
Friday
at 0:45 we returned to La Fraudais. We enter. She is in prayer, in
her room, standing this time because she gets up every Friday to do
the Stations of the Cross, because usually she is still in bed.
The
entrance to the small sanctuary is forbidden. One hour strikes, (i.e
1 PM) and immediately begins the ecstasy. All doors are open to us.
She is there, all alone, on her knees, praying before a crucifix. As
soon as we sat down she turns to us with her eyes closed to ask for
our blessing. All three, we all get up. For me, I said quietly,
“Benedicat te omnipotens Deus, Pater and Filius, etc ...". When
I said "Father," the stigmatist raised her right hand,
lifted it above the forehead - over her crown of thorns - it is one
of the best signs of the cross I've ever seen.
By
the eyes of her body she had never known us and yet she knew that we
were there, she knew that we were priests. But we examine her while
she is on her knees, making her grand sign of the cross. The back of
her right hand is covered with bright red blood, the stigmata on her
back is bleeding, the body is leaning forward, eyes still closed, the
figure is an indefinable reflection of piety, love and suffering. She
signs our priestly blessing and soon she turns to the west, extends
her arms outstretched and begins a prayer that lasted about ten
minutes. In this prayer, she said to her Beloved with a loud and
vibrant voice why she would follow Him on the way to Calvary. It was
for the conversion of sinners, for the triumph of the Church, for the
deliverance of the Pope. It was to make amends for all the sacrileges
on earth. And in a voice more vibrant, she cries to her Divine
Spouse to forgive the sacrileges, to forgive the blasphemies, and the
violations of the law on Sunday, to forgive the so cold indifference
of a crowd of Christians.
While
she is like that, praying with outstretched arms in a cross, her eyes
opened wide. The pupil is fixed and turned toward the sky in a way
that it hides a little under the upper eyelid, the face comes alive
and is transformed more and more. It is really impossible to express
this face. It seems that Marie-Julie looks up with the deepest
attention, she seems absorbed in what she sees, and yet I looked at
her and saw that her eyes are dilated so extraordinarily that it is
impossible to see anything. It is contemplation in its highest
degree.
After
the prayer, her eyes close and she leans forward to take up her
cross. It is there before her, that little copper cross, about eight
inches long. With both hands, she takes it with efforts by the foot
and can not even stir. She folds in on herself and makes a greater
effort, the cross moves but is not raised. She is stepping up her
efforts, her hands red with blood, clenched on that cross which seems
so heavy, her face turns red, the cross comes off the ground, rising
horizontally and falls to the ground soon. Note in every feature
fatigue is evident. This small cross then has the same weight of that
of our Divine Master!
Finally,
after two long minutes of work, all the blood of the stigmatist seems
to flow from her face, her lips are tight, her breath sounds, her
arms tremble under the burden, but the cross stands, takes a vertical
position and goes down on her shoulder and she staggers back,
forward, and fails to take her balance when the cross rests on her
left shoulder. Then, both hands firmly attached to the foot of the
instrument of torture, she began to walk on her knees. That is how
the Way of the Cross begins, needless to say she is ecstatic and it
will last up to five hours.
It
is the side facing west. At each step, her knees hit the floor of the
room, her pace is very heavy. Arriving at the corner, she turns
back, always going east to the west and from west to east. She bears
the cross like this for about ten minutes. Soon she is tired, she
staggers, her face naturally round, stretches more and more, she is
panting.
Then
she turns to us and we present a blessed cross for her to kiss.
Strengthened by this reinforcement, she continues her heavy course.
But she is very breathless, sometimes she wants to move and can not
do it. While her trembling body falls back, forward, or for support
on the partition. She takes a few more steps. Her breathing is heard
very clearly. Suddenly, she falls on the face in the direction of
west, making a loud noise, an extraordinary noise resembling that of
a board falling on a floor. There, arms outstretched, face against
the ground for twenty minutes, she talks to her Beloved. Her words
flow quickly from her lips with a force, unctious, a love, an
extraordinary eloquence.
“Sweet
cross,” cried she, “so heavy, so laden with the sins of men, you
are on the back of my God! It is You, dear Jesus, who want to wear it
and yet it is we who are the culprits. Oh! inflame me.”
Later,
she recounts a vision which passes under her eyes and exclaims:
“Why
all these ardent coals (I.e embers / sparks) that, in the space
amidst the darkness, detach from the cross and spread throughout the
earth? Why, if not to make in souls a ray of love, to set them
ablaze.”
Then
she prays for priests who are present for all the assistance and the
intentions she has listed at the beginning. Marie-Julie has
recovered. She continues her Stations of the Cross in silence. Her
face lengthens and becomes transfigured, her fatigue is becoming more
and more. Here stands a very touching scene. In the middle of the
course, she turns again to us, bending under the weight of her
cross. We present a small crucifix for her to kiss, but it is not
that. She is looking for someone to help her carry her cross and is
before the Father Le Golf, and she places on his priestly shoulder
the cross she wears herself. Right now, she is in the rapture of
ecstasy, she reads in the sky and says in a whisper a few words that
Father Le Golf hears very well and that I hear too. She begins as
follows:
“My
brother of the Third Order of St. Francis, I see all your wishes
written in the Divine Heart
of
Jesus. Etc..”
Who
told her that Father Le Golf had the idea to write on a piece of
paper the graces that he
wanted?
Myself, I did not know. And yet, the stigmatist had spoken to him in
those terms. (After) Father Le Golf, she comes to me, her eyes still
fixed in the sky, the heart panting and mouth ajar. I throw myself on
my knees and soon the cross weighs on her left shoulder. She said
softly, but in order to be heard by Father Le Golf:
“Jesus
Christ tells you that he is happy. Pray for me.”
She
then goes to the Abbot Bihan and whispered a few words that we do not
hear. Then she went around
the witnesses, whispering a word or two in each ear. There was a
Count and Countess from
Cambrai, two people from Blain, mother Jahenny, and at the door, the
envoy of the Archbishop of Tours, who, having reached the final part,
took a chair placed in the kitchen but in
front of the entrance of the room, the cross was placed on him as the
others. After this scene so
striking, Marie-Julie again commences her path by beating the floor
with her knees. Soon she
is exhausted, she falls like the first time by hitting the floor with
her forehead and her elbows, and reproducing the sound that I
mentioned earlier. Prostrated with face against the ground, she
begins to pour forth the overflowing love from her heart to her
Beloved Jesus, she welcomes the cross as the source of all
consolation. Then, casting a glance at all the human race, she said
that man as a child does not like the cross, in his youth he rejects
it, in his old age he takes it. Happy old age that prepares for a
happy eternity. Now she throws a glance at the present time.
“There
is no more respect,” she says, “for God or his ministers on
earth. The sacrileges, blasphemies, the violations of Sunday is what
covers the earth.” Then, in a voice more vibrant than
ever, remarks to sinners: “Listen, sinners, how long will you
remain in this terrible state?”
Soon
the stigmatist turns the eyes of the soul from the multitude of
sinners who are trembling, and
she considers the just. Unfortunately, she still finds great errors:
“They
want to suffer,” she cries, “but they always want to choose their
cross. They murmur when they receive it arbitrarily from the hand of
Jesus, or they take away the crucifix, and it is only the wood of the
cross. O what a perverse doctrine,” she said, “and yet a so
common doctrine! They buy a luxurious crucifix that they show but is
not in the heart.”
All
these ideas are developed with ease and admirable diction. So she
teaches devotion to the cross, the source of blessings, comfort,
delectable fragrance. She teaches special devotion to the Pain (I.e.
Wound) in the Shoulder. She herself has this devotion and draws
great graces. Then she quotes a very effective prayer for relief.
Here it is, at least in substance:
“Jesus,
O loving, O sweet Lamb it is I who have caused this Pain in the
Shoulder, however in the name of that pain, give me Your favour.”
Then,
to excite the ardour of love for the cross, she said that Jesus asks
and seeks souls in love with
the cross. Suddenly, in the momentum carried away by love, she said
in a voice that would draw tears:
“O
Jesus, O my Beloved, O my dear Lord, here I am, take me. After the
victim of the Sacred Heart, I am the victim of the cross. Make me
suffer, crucify me, miserable sinner. At the foot of the cross I
learned everything, that is where I live and die.”
All
this takes about half an hour, after which the stigmatist is
recovering slowly. Her eyes are closed and again and she commences
her way painfully.
As
we carried crucifixes on us, from time to time the stigmatist turned
to us and consoled herself with a gentle kiss on the crucifix. But
this time, it was no longer the same. Already she stopped once in
the presence of the envoy of the Archbishop, apparently to ask him
something. He not knowing what to do, and having nothing to offer,
remains in place. What does she ask of him? At the beginning of the
ecstasy we saw a tall man enter the house, he had in his arms a big
box heavy enough and laid it in a corner with a satisfied air as if
he were very happy to be rid of a weight as if it were heavy. What
does this mean? The man with the box says aloud:
“This
comes from ecclesiastical authority.”
And
he wiped his forehead. Here I am in conjectures. But soon the mother
of Jahenny says:
“You
can enter, gentlemen.”
I
went in, and from that moment, I lost sight of the secret box. The
stigmatist has been acquainted with the strange man about whom I have
spoken, and now here she comes, still continuing her ordeal. At each
step, while her chest is rising rapidly, as not to be crushed under
the weight. Meanwhile, the stranger, surprised the first time, went
to open the box. He took out a statue and returned to his place. The
miraculous statue dated from the 13th
century.
It was hidden during the Revolution, it was discovered recently and
sent today to La Fraudais.
At
the moment which I speak of, the stranger, sitting outside the door
of the room, holding the statue, a foot and a half or two feet high.
What will Marie-Julie do? Her eyes are closed, will she sense the
miraculous statue? She turns away, she advances, she arrives. Her
knees hitting against the door, she moves her head and can not get up
at the door, throws her whole body forward without worrying about the
laws of balance and with a visible joy, with a smile of happiness,
she places her lips on the feet, hands, the face of the statue of
Mary.
Here,
there is no slowness, it is with the vivacity of a great joy that she
places all her kisses all over the miraculous image. Then, extending
her arms, she pressed it against her chest, carries it from the arms
of this unknown layman, lays down painfully on the top of the
threshold, coming towards us on her knees, supporting the miraculous
statue, and in front of us Marie-Julie, carried away by the rapture
of ecstasy, opens her eyes and reads in the sky:
“Good
Mother, dear Mother,” she said softly, and she covers it with
kisses.
Suddenly
she addressed us again, the priests. She said to Father Le Golf while
holding the statue:
“You
will have unspeakable joy and consolation,” and so on.
To
Father Bihan, she gives the cross and said a few words. Then with her
two arms (opened) in the space, she whispered:
“Another
cross, another cross.”
I
placed one in her hand. And then she turns to me. We are on our
knees, one vis-à-vis the other. I see the pupils of her eyes, fixed
in the sky, her face elongated, her lips parted. She comes down to
(see) me and said:
“Here
is a cross, keep it. You will have a hard (or great) need of it.”
After
these words, she takes up her cross, and continues her silent march
in the sorrowful way. The statue is placed in the middle of the room
and everyone returns to his place. A few minutes later, Marie-Julie
falls for the third time and in the same way as before. The cross
fell to her side. In this state, the right cheek and the corner of
the mouth being placed on the floor. Marie-Julie starts a third
prayer that is about twenty minutes. Her voice remains strong, free
and sound.
However
towards the end, we feel that her throat is a little tired. This
prayer was the most beautiful of all. It brought tears to all
present, and even I saw one that was not only crying but sobbing.
Unfortunately, I am no longer able to follow it. It begins by
acknowledging the cross, Jesus testifies to His beloved, the joy she
feels when arriving at Calvary, and asked to be attached to the
cross. So, St Thomas, St John Chrysostom come to her in her vision.
She thanked them for what they have instructed every day, she,
miserable sinner, a real Magdalene. St Francis of Assisi is also
present.
She
greets him with an increase in happiness. She calls him the seraph
of heaven, reminds him of the swallow his sister, brother wolf, etc..
Then
it is ourselves, the three Breton priests she sees in her ecstasy.
“I
beg you, O God, for the three Breton priests who are present here. I
see their souls as white doves amid a sea of love. Around each of
them, there are other small doves flutter around: they are the souls
led by them.”
And
further, she said:
“There
are among us a Brother who wears a cross in his heart and this cross
prevents him from accomplishing all the good his soul wants, O my
Beloved, give me some of his crosses, I want to bear them. Give them
to me, to me,miserable sinner. However, my God, that Your Will be
done. It is sweet to suffer with an entire resignation to the holy
will of God.”
After
the prayer, Marie-Julie rises. She is ravished with delight. She
extends her arms and bloody hands and turns to the east. She told God
to make her suffer every kind of torment, of crucifixion on the tree
of the cross, and suddenly she fell backwards, like a piece of board
that falls, she places her arms in a cross, places the right foot on
the sole of her left foot and remains in that position for an hour
and a half. This is the crucifixion, Jesus on the cross, the last
ecstasy before the mystical death. Right now, we are all on our knees
to recite five Our Fathers and five Hail Marys.
We
may talk quietly among ourselves. One of the strangers present is
told that if we wanted to raise her now, she would rise all in one
“piece”, because her members are no longer flexible. We did not
dare to try. But I bent over the opening of several small wounds. It
is at this point that religious objects that we have are placed on
her chest. We place crosses, medals and pictures and every time we
lay something, each time we saw the lips of Marie-Julie stir. It is
said that during this ecstasy, she asks the blessing of heaven to
some objects placed on her chest.
Returning
to the stigmatist. All the while, she does not move no more than a
statue would, lying on her back and arms outstretched. She is also
very quiet. After half an hour, a small sweet and very melodious
voice is heard. This is the stigmatist herself singing a song or a
hymn. In her ecstasy, she composes words, air (melody) and measure
(beat / time) and sings in a heavenly voice as if she wanted to be in
unison with the Angels. The first song is on the tone of the Te
Deum.
This is the refrain: "My sweet Jesus, I am dying of regret for
not being able to die." The second song begins with these words:
"My Beloved, etc.." Both express sublime ideas set out very
simply and always teaches love of the cross. After the hymns she
starts to pray quietly. From time to time, we give the cross to kiss,
one time she asked for the Ecce Homo.
Finally
after an hour and a quarter, something extraordinary takes place in
her. Her chest swells, gathers together and moves convulsively, as
if it were ploughed by a dagger. We think we hear a “dry” sound,
similar to that of bones that break, at the same time an
indescribable air of suffering is spreading like a flash the whole
person of the stigmatized. All this takes about a minute and
everything falls into silence. The feet of Marie-Julie is no longer
one over the other, the arms fall along the body, the hands are cold.
It is, I am told, the mystical death and that death should last
about ten minutes. The contortions we have just come to see are from
the spear she mystically receives. She must now endure excruciating
pain. After seven to eight minutes, she wakes up. Death is
conquered, it is a resurrection. Marie-Julie gets up, she in delight,
sees her Beloved and He speaks, I think her hands are clasped at that
moment.
“Beautiful
Paradise, beautiful heaven that you are to be desired! O Jesus, my
immortal soul suffers in prison. She wishes to fly,” etc.. “The
prison is already rotten, it crumbles to dust. One link connects me
to it. O my Jesus, my Jesus, cut, cut here. I want to fly in the
eternal splendor! ... She kisses the cross! “My Beloved tells me
that the way will close and my prayers are answered. Oh! thank you,
my Jesus, thank you, my Beloved, take me … I see the Virgin Mary at
the foot of the eternal throne ...”
But
meanwhile the vision disappeared a little more. It was not the flood
of supernatural light that flooded earlier, this is only a twilight
that is still low.
“O
my Mother,” exclaimed the stigmatized, clasping her hands to the
sky, “take me.”
Then
she goes before her, she seems carried away by the vision.
“Good
Mother,” she said at last in a tearful voice, “take me! Oh! Take
me.”
The
mother of Marie-Julie was there, ready. She extended her arms to
support her daughter and sat her on a chair placed at the end of the
bed. The ecstasy was over at quarter past five and a half or five
hours in the evening. Immediately, we want to (examine) her.
“No,”
said the mother, she is too tired and she was truly breathless. After
five or six minutes, she was delivered, and all three we are
fortunate to form a circle around her and her mother. Her sister was
also there, ready to serve as an interpreter for Marie-Julie. Sitting
in her chair, the stigmatist was all changed. Her face, instead of
being elongated, had become quite round. She received us with
candour, softness, ease, confidence high. A very kind smile was
always on her lips, but as she talked, her eyes were still cast down.
It was not the same when a woman or a child approached. We gave each
an image.
“Oh!
thank you, good little father.”
I
think this is the term for the priest in patois.
In turn, she gives everyone, two nice little pictures and a small
crucifix. We affirm the promises we made each other. And finally, we
parted, heart flooded with joy.
This
is my visit to Fraudais. As such, it has the supernatural does it?
Yes, certainly. Doubt is not even possible for anyone who has seen
with his eyes. Is the supernatural (events here) divine or simply
evil? I hope that the Church would later say. (Note:
The Bishop of Nantes later declared the stigmatic events were not
fraudulent but authentic.)
I know that the devil has his stigmatists or at least something
similar. I know that the devil had what I would call many mater
dolorosa. But here everything is at once: The stigmata is the most
beautiful we have ever seen, the rapture, ecstasy, abstinence, the
diabolical attack, the excellent doctrine. Everything grows towards
the good, and nothing is evil, nothing, absolutely nothing. For me
personally, I strongly believe in the supernatural divine.” (i.e.,
that
these events are of a divine
nature.)
::::::::
Note:
In the book “We Are Warned” the witness who recorded this event
is described 'unknown', however, judging from the previous text which
took place the day before this account, the witness must be Abbé
Gouron as he said he would come the next day, Thursday, and those who
were with him such as Abbé Golf, are mentioned again in this text
dated November 8. This text also starts with “We returned to La
Fraudais”, so it is clear this text must have also been written by
Abbé Gouron.
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