Two Memoirs of Fr Chevalier, written after his death

by Brother Jan Van Heugten MSC, Fr. Chevalier’s valet

 

 

 

MANUSCRIPT, BY BROTHER BERNARDIN

(= Jan van Heugten msc)

 

 

On a winter evening towards the end of 1905, when everybody, Father Chevalier included, was getting ready to go to bed as usual, I was suddenly informed that there was a fire in the chimney of his office that we had just left. Without getting upset, the good Father went quickly to bed. I hastened to have a look and especially to try to stop the fire, but this was not so easy, for there was really a very big fire in the chimney, so much so that neighbors, firemen and soldiers came around without delay.

In the meantime I heard the ringing of the little bell of Father Chevalier, as loud as possible; I had of course not thought any more of the good Father, and even less of bringing him his cup of milk which he usually drank before going to bed. Going up to his room I thought that he was going to blame me for not telling him about the situation of the fire, but no, the first thing he told me was: “What arc you thinking about? Bring me quickly my cup of milk, so that I can go to steep.” I thought: that is strange; he does not even mention the fire. I answered him: “But Father, that was not just a small fire in the chimney of your room downstairs; our neighbors, the firemen and the soldiers even came to help us.” He just repeated: “Bring me my cup of milk, so that I can go to Sleep.” And he added: “That fire will soon go out by itself; it is not the first time that this happens. The only thing we can do is to let it burn; tomorrow morning it will have gone out. Just bring me my cup of milk.”

I was surprised that he was so cairn. When he had drunk his milk, he told me: “It would be good to watch a bit so that they will not put everything in my room in disorder. Close the room afterwards, and tomorrow morning we will see.”

After working almost the whole night, in the morning the fire went out almost completely as the Father had told me, but the furniture and the parquet floor were in an awful state. After a few days things were repaired.

 

During spring a year later, on April 12[1], the good Father entered his 81st year, a year that was remarkable for its many sufferings and its merits before God. Several hemorrhages succeeded one another so that his general condition, which for his age was very good, started to decline very much, and notwithstanding the indefatigable care of his good and dedicated doctor, who tried the best medicines to make him overcome such a great weakness, his sickness became ever more serious, and everybody who saw him in that stage — except two: he himself and his dedicated doctor — thought that his precious life was in great danger. A swollen state appeared, first his legs and soon his whole body.

 

In that critical state – one could even say: between life and death – the good Father did not worry about his sickness but lead a very active life as if he was in good health. He never failed to say his breviary and his rosary, he received people, answered many letters, and often, I think, he forgot his own sufferings to dedicate himself completely to others.

 

While the Very Reverend Father suffered so much and seemed to forget himself, many others thought of him and prayed for him. Fervent prayers and novenas have doubtlessly done violence to heaven. How many religious communities have offered their good works, their mortifications and their merits to obtain the recovery of the good Father; some even offered the heroic sacrifice of their life to save his life. After so many prayers and good works God permitted that the good Father was soon out of danger, even almost suddenly. Especially his swollen state disappeared in two or three days, to the great surprise of the doctors.

 

Soon Father Chevalier resumed his former occupations: he started to say Mass, first in his room, where he had a nice little chapel and he had the permission of the Holy Father to say Mass there, but his zeal was not satisfied, soon he wanted to go to the parish church to hear confessions there and to preach. I still see him before me: he walked, happy to meet his dear parishioners. What a joy this was for him, but also for everybody else, for who did not know Father Chevalier? Even those who were most hostile towards religion, and the poor. They were happy to meet him on his way to or from the church, for to meet him at home was not always easy. I have often noted that he gave without measure; when he found a coin of five cents, or of one or two francs, he gave what he happened to lay his hands on, often without looking how much he gave; the poor knew it very well.

 

The good Father continued his ministry, but God knows how it tired him. His vicars were very willing to lighten his work, especially regarding the Sunday mass, but he accepted their offer rarely; only when he was absolutely unable to do it; he considered the ministry of the mass for the parish as his personal duty, and he wanted to do it till the end.

 

Soon other trials followed. The anti-religious law directed its hatred not only against the churches and their cult, but also against the parish priests, and after having seen them make an inventory of the parish church – against which he protested as much as he could – some time later he had to leave his presbytery also.

 

 

 

 


LETTER OF BROTHER JAN VAN HEUGTEN MSC

 

TO A CONFRERE

 

Issoudun, January 18, 1926

 

Dear Father,

 

Though time, sickness and other circumstances leave me almost no free time, I want to satisfy your wish, at least to show my good will, by writing you a short letter. I am a poor writer, so I ask you before hand to excuse me.

 

When I met our Very Reverend Father Founder for the first time I thought: that is a nice good man, who seems to have a strong will. Well, my first impression did not deceive me; of this I became convinced later on.

 

The first fact that showed this iron will I happened to witness during the first weeks I was in France. I still lived in the Sacred Heart monastery. One day I was sent to the presbytery with a message for the V.R Father Chevalier, I don’t remember what is was about. Though I knew only a few words of French at that time I did understand some words of somebody who happened to be with Father Chevalier; among other things he said: “What a pity, Father, that they are going to build barracks so close to our house.” “What did you say?” Father Chevalier answered, looking up, “So close to our house? I don’t want that at all.” “But,” the gentleman answered, I am sorry but there is nothing that can be done about it at this stage; the foundations are almost finished, etc.” Surprised our Rev. Father said: “Well, we will see.”

 

Next day I learned that His Reverence had already left for Paris to arrange this affair. Less than two weeks later I heard that the foundations had been covered and that the barracks were to be built at the other end of the town. Our V.R. Father was not yet fully satisfied; he bought this place and its surroundings which are at present the beautiful park for pilgrims. I do not have to explain whether such an achievement requires a strong will and insight.

 

In all situations our V.R. Father showed extraordinary insight and extraordinary strength of will. When his foundation, or the glory of Our Lady of the Sacred Heart were at stake, nothing could stop him, and his confidence in her powerful assistance stayed with him till the end, even in the most difficult circumstances. Even when the second vehement persecution broke out in 1900, he was not worried for his dear foundation, nor was he worried some years later, when everything was seized by the government to be sold by auction. I was with him at that time, and from time to time we made an outing by carriage. I had always to accompany him, for he was very weak at that time. We talked of course about the problem of that time; I said sometimes: “What a pity if the beautiful basilica and the whole building will be lost for the Congregation; there is no more hope; everything will be sold, that is certain.” This is the answer of the V.R. Father: “Well, it is certain that Our Lady of the Sacred Heart will herself defend her sanctuary, don’t worry about that!” Certainly, at that moment this looked impossible, bit it did happen as he said.

 

In the mean time his strength diminished more and more, and he could rarely say Mass in his dear parish church. When he was halfway he had already to say some words to his dear parishioners, words that were usually short, but always very interesting. Finally he could not say Mass any more in the church, and we had to build an altar in the presbytery where he was still be able to say Mass for a rather long time. But even during that period they could not leave us in peace, for the churches had to be assessed and the priests had to be put on the Street. That our good Father Founder was to be chased out of the old presbytery is something he could not believe till the last day, for it was a decision of the municipality, and since he had recently helped the family of the mayor out of some financial difficulty, it seemed impossible to him. But notwithstanding everything, it did happen, and even though a house near by was put at our disposal, this was for him a heavy blow, and he was not able any more to get accustomed to it.

 

From this period I remember some words I will never forget. Some day His Reverence told me: “Do you know what is still lacking for me?” I answered: “No Father.” He said: “If I would be persecuted now by my own sons, I would begin to be a bit like my Savior.” Fortunately this did not happen. Our Lord spared him such a thing.

 

By all these sufferings and changes our Very Reverend Founder weakened faster and faster, and soon it became clear that his end was approaching. Still he wanted to give us (and me especially) a last proof of his iron will.

 

He had the custom to go for a holiday of some weeks each year in the house of an old lady in the diocese of Tours (she must have been a great benefactress); we stayed there usually 3 to 4, sometimes even 6 weeks, according to the circumstances. It was in all respects a very good place for us. It was the only time of rest for our Very Reverend Father during the last 5 or six years.

 

A few months before his death he wanted to go there, to improve, he said, his weakened health. On a certain day he told me (he called me usually ‘mon petit’): “Eh bien, mon petit, I like to take a little holiday of some days with Mrs de Cougny (that old lady I just mentioned). That will do good to both of us, for you need some rest also. You have to write to the Company of Orleans and ask for a sleeping car first class for next week.”

 

Knowing whom I was dealing with, I talked it over with the Fathers who told me: “Well, that is impossible, it is foolishness etc. etc. It cannot be done, and of course you must not write for a sleeping car. In any case, you have to say only that if he wants to go, he can go by himself alone, that you will absolutely not go with him, for without you he cannot go etc. And then, he is much too sick. Tomorrow he will have forgotten about it.” Well, I hoped so, but I did not feel at ease. I did not talk about it any more. I served him regularly in his room, and the week passed without hearing anything much about it. So I started to think: maybe, because of his illness and his sufferings, he does not think about a holiday anymore, but I kept worrying about it.

 

Sunday morning came, and I brought him his breakfast in his room as usual. After having made a big sign of the cross as usual, he asked me whether everything was ready for tomorrow, and whether I had bough all the medicines that might be needed, in one word, whether all precautions had been taken. - I’ll never forget this! - I wish some one else would have taken my place at that moment. I had of course to speak up: “Well, Reverend Father, the situation is like this. First, I did not ask for a sleeping car, for it seems to me that it is my duty to stop you from going, and that in conscience I have to do everything to keep you from starting such a voyage at this moment. For you are much more seriously ill than you realize. If you are better next week, I will be the first to satisfy your desire etc. But at present this is impossible.”

 

I must say that I never saw such disappointment. The whole day he talked about it, and one after another the Fathers had to come to his room. Really an incredible row, but for the moment he couldn’t do anything else than stay at home. That was not the end; he wanted to force me to write finally to the railway; I accepted on the condition that when our doctor - who was absent - would be back, he would agree.

 

After some days our doctor returned, and his first visit was always to Father Chevalier, or rather to the doorkeeper who let him enter. He asked of course: “How is he?” With a very low voice I answered... “Imagine, during your absence Father Chevalier absolutely wanted to go for a holiday, and that problem has not yet been solved.” “Well,” the doctor said, “that will be easy.  So he is much better?” “No, he is much weaker.”  “Well, in that case a voyage is out of the question. But we will see.”

 

After the usual greetings, soon our question was tabled. After a long talk the doctor told me: “I believe that the best thing is to let him go, for if we oppose him, it will make him sick. The worst part is for you, for he is completely worn out, and you may have lots of difficulties to travel with such a person, to stay with strangers, and especially, to go so far.” Now the best thing to do was to depart as soon as possible. I finally wrote for a sleeping car to Paris, and after a few days things were arranged and we departed. Somebody was very happy to have won the battle! He looked a different person now, and notwithstanding his sufferings during the trip he had to tease me, saying that the Dutch are hardheaded, but the French even more, for they win.

 

I prepared everything; he had to be carried in an armchair from one carriage to another, which took a long time everywhere, but that did not matter much, if only he would arrive and well. At our arrival we were as usual cordially received by the servants and especially by Madame, and everything was done to make our stay as pleasant as possible. But this could not lessen his worn-out state.

 

Already next day His Reverence told me that he wanted to go back to Issoudun as soon as possible, for, he said, “the change of air does not have the effect I expected.” Well, no wonder. Having seen him three days in this same situation I saw that waiting would not make him any better, so I decided to ask a doctor - whom I had met before - to come and visit His Reverence, for I did not know what to do. He came next day, and when he had seen our patient and examined him, I asked him what I should do. “I think,” he said, “that he is completely worn out; maybe he can still live a month, but he can also die any moment without any further cause. So I would advise that you return as soon as possible.” I sent immediately a telegram for a sleeping car, and next day we started the voyage. Thanks to all precautions and care the trip went well. This was to be the last voyage I made with the Very Reverend Founder, and I will never forget it.

 

Back home in Issoudun his strength diminished daily and we saw the end was near. As the doctor had said, he still lived about one month. With full consciousness he received the last Sacraments and died peacefully and calmly.

 

Though the persecution was at its peak, his burial was a real triumph. All stores and main houses in town were closed as a sign of mourning, and almost all priests of the diocese attended this solemn burial. I never saw the parish church as full as on that day.

 

Now our Very Reverend Founder rests in a simple tomb, it is true, but in his dear and magnificent basilica that he built himself for the consolation of his sons and daughters.

 

I am sorry that I had no more time to write about some other remarkable things, but I really couldn’t for lack of time. I have to care for two sick fathers and for the rest more work than I am able to do. This Sunday I spent all available time and also part of the night, to answer you as quickly as possible. You may use my answer the way you like; I guarantee the genuineness of my story.

 

Yours truly in the Sacred Heart of Jesus,

 

 

Jan van Heugten

 



[1] Fr Chevalier was born on March 15th; April 12th was the feast of St. Jules, his namesday.