For the honor of the King; the life of Louis, son of Simon and Marie Vally of Lavaudieu, in the province of Ardèche, France

Front matter

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'ii'll

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Author's Preface

One of the most potent factors in the progress of the human race, has been the tradition, and, later on, the history of nations and of individuals ; the virile influence of the lives and deeds of men being the Promethean fire in which Heroism is engendered, and the wings of Aspiration forged.

Since Egypt was young, — the mystic Sphynx unborn — and the scribes of the half civilized potentates of the ISTile traced uncouth characters upon leaf and tomb; since Celtic runes were graven upon the rock by the JSTorthern Sea; since the American aborigines first wrought their record and folk-lore in sea-shell hieroglyphics of gaudy wampum, it has been the custom of mankind to preserve the annals of its heroes, that future generations might look thereon and strive.

When the Roman Catholic Church, the Daughter and the Queen of History, inaugurated a

6 AUTHOR'S PREFACE

higher civilization, led by the spirit of the Incarnate Word, the Supreme Psychologist, she has, likewise, taught that as thoughts are living things, the sublime suggestions, the fine enthusiasm caught from the records of the great, are of vital import to the soul.

Seeing with the vision of a prophet, she (the Church of Eome), knows the secret places where the world's true heroes dwell ; and in her libraries we find, side by side with the history of a Basil, a Jerome, a Cyril, a Thomas Aquinas and an Augustine, the life story of unlettered youths and maidens, and the biography of a Cure D^Ars.

If then, dear reader, you sincerely wonder why the history of Louis Yally, the obscure son of peasant parentage, should be given to this twentieth century world, know that our Titan Age is groping toward the light, and humanity is beginning to recognize the truth, — as never before in the history of the race — that the men of power are the obscure workers of the social order, and that the most perfect growth attainable by the soul is possible amid the lowliest and most adverse environment. The spirit of man transcends conditions ; the human soul is greater

AUTHOR'S PREFACE 7

than its lot. The world grows slowly wiser, and the puppet heroes, who so long have played upon its mimic stage, begin to perish and will shortly be consumed in the ardent fire of the Real.

Soon all men will revere the immortal power of influence, and soon the real heroes of the generation will issue from the wilderness, and men will hail them kings. Regenerated souls themselves, they regenerate the social order ; and in comparison with their might, the laws of Lycurgus, the speculation of Plato, the discovery of Columbus, the career of JSTapoleon and the investigations of Edison, are as an insect's trail upon the ocean beach of racial progress.

Like the lotus, the human soul grows best in the mould of an humble environment ; and like the nautilus in its normal development, the soul of man should move onward through ever widening halls to its Ideal.

" Build thee more stately temples, oh ! my sonl, As the swift seasons roll.

Leave thy low vaulted past, Let each new temple, nobler than the last, Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast Till thou at length art free ; Leaving thine outgrown shell By life's unresting sea."

8 AUTHOR'S PREFACE

Such was the life of Louis Yally, — the life of flower and of nautilus ; a life of growth by correspondence with spiritual environment, with Divine inspiration ; and such a life belongs to all mankind.

He Being Dead Yet Speaketh 9

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Illustrations

Rev. Louis Vally, 1885

Louis Vally, 1868

Primitive Church and School in Meridian

1877 ....

Rev. Mother de Sales Browne, 1877 Tomb of Rev. Louis Vally erected in

Introduction

Somewhere in his " De Oratore," if I mistake not, Cicero says that there were as great men among the early Eomans as among the Greeks. That everybody knew of the Greek heroes because their deeds had been recorded by enthusiastic authors. But that the Roman people being distinctively a people of ceaseless action had no time to write down for the benefit of posterity the noble deeds and character of their heroes, hence their works died with them.

The same may be truly in a very special manner, said of the Diocesan priesthood of the South, if not everywhere. Being missionaries, they are essentially men of action : men who do much and say little : men who make heroic sacrifices and there is no note taken of them except by the great Recording Angel. In fact there is an element of moral sublimity in the very character of these men, which is elevating if not appalling. Like David, they go out single-handed and alone to

14 INTRODUCTION

face obscurity and poverty, the world, the flesh, and the devil ; while the sun shines upon no land which has not been ennobled by their labors or purpled with their blood.

The life of Father Yally recorded in the following pages is the rule, not the exception. Ab uno, disce omnes.

C. A. Olivee, D. D.

Jackson i Miss.y Sept. ^j, igo^.

PART I All the windows of my soul, I open to the day."

CHAPTEK I

Deep in the heart of the " fleur-de-lys," the golden pollen shines ; and deep in the spirit of every son of France there lives, likewise, a golden light kindled in the sacred flame of sacrifice. Across the mobile nature of the French, in every age and in every crisis, we find this dominant characteristic of self-sacrifice, manifested in one or another of its Protean forms : from the ascetic renunciation of a Saint Louis, down the long muster-roll of soldiers of the Lilies and the Cross to its manifestations in the deeds of a Joan of Arc or the chivalry of a Lafayette.

Whether we read the history of La Salle, Pere Marquette, Joliet, the brothers Sauvolle, Iberville, Bienville, de Le Moyne ; — always amid the shadows of these variant characters, plays the one celestial ray, and from this flame of Gallic sacrifice, have been kindled, with few exceptions, the immortal beacons of Christianity throughout the two Americas, From court and cottage of vine-loved France, her strong men have gone forth, and above their countless graves, from Canada to the Gulf, wave the unseen, but immortal banners of " Excelsior."

But, if the royal standard of " Eenunciation " has been lifted by Gallic hearts that came to birth in martial halls and in the palaces of kings ; still more frequently has her ensign been unfurled where grows the lily in its native soil, amid the provinces and by the peasantry of France. Clear hearted as the silver streams, and patient as the Loire that winds its shining threads about its country's heart, and strings her meadows in a rosary of malachite ; noble as the mountains whose brows are crowned with deathless snow, and fruitful as her vineyards that lift their purple clusters from ]S"ormandy to Lorraine, are the sons of the soil — the natives of Ardeche, from whose sturdy race sprang the boy whose life and labors have written their golden characters upon the history of the Catholic priesthood of this republic.

Like swallow nests amid the mossy eaves, nestles a little stone and brick cottage upon the gentle slopes of the vine-painted hamlet of Lavaudieu. Vines also bind the quaint gables to the bosom of the hills, in tender surety, that the home and the inhabitants thereof, are one with nature, and must not wander far from the breast of the great earth mother. The curling ribbon of the silver stream ties the vineyard with a love-knot, and from afar, the solemn mountains speak their variant gospels at the rising and the setting of the sun. ISTearer by, lies the green plateau of Ardeche ; and on a slight elevation above the village, the church spire may be seen lifting the sunset like a streaming banner from its shaft, fit symbol of the simple prayer that prisons all the glories of the universe. The notes of the Angelus fall musically upon the evening as though the sunset radiance had found utterance, and a lad of seven summers gathers the sheep that lie white upon the grass.

Standing a moment in their midst, and calling them by name, — for by name he knows them well — he whistles lightl}^ to his dog, and flinging the little Ardeche bonnet upon his head, trudges slowly down the evening paths and disappears within the vine-loved cottage on the hill. Less robust than the peasants of his race, and of delicate frame, accentuated by the vivid colors of his rustic garb, is the younger son of the sturdy 1

econome, now an independent vine grower of ■

Lavaudieu; for Simon and Marie Yally, also *

natives of Lavaudieu, are typical scions of their race— the strong-souled, great-hearted bourgeoisie of Ardeche.

A sturdy lad and lass blessed the union of this couple, then came Louis, the shepherd boy of our theme. Long before the rudiments of his education began, or the child took note of such simple literature as found its way to their humble home, the great Book of :t^ature began to unfold its fathomless mysteries to the younger son of the Yallys, and from its wondrous pages the little Louis drew the depth and tenderness, the rugged strength, the all-embracing love that were the signs manual of his future life.

A delicate frame, unfitted for the rugged toil of the vine grower, prevented the lad from participating in the hereditary labors of his family ; while a deep sympathy, and a subtle comprehension of the animal world, caused him to be as-

A SOX OF THE SOIL. 21

signed the care of his father's sheep, between which and himself, existed an almost human understanding.

The picturesque Church of St. Andrew nestles in a nook of Lavaudieu, where the sunlight loves to fall ; and from dawn until the musical notes of the Angelus have been echoed by the valleys and hushed by the mountains, the ancient spire is silhouetted against the purple horizon — a shining finger pointing to the sky. At its consecrated font the hardy sons of the house of Yally have, for generations, received the Living "Waters ; and in its humble choir, Simon Yally, father of Louis, leads the choir of males, and his wife, Marie, that of the females. Sweet and clear over the purple vineyards of Lavaudieu, ring the voices of the two Yallys ; now, a gay chanson^ now a chant (T amour, but most frequently a tender hymn to the Madonna, whose little shrine gleams like a day-star among the whispering and worshiping leaves of the vines ; and upon young Louis, falls the heritage of song. Tenderly over the sleeping sheep float the melodies improvised mainly from his deep love and awakening consciousness of the w^onder of life, and the sacredness thereof. " And from those far off years among the radiant pastures, through the wilderness, the Via Crucis and the Yalley of the Shadows," that sweet song of the shepherd echoed on, strengthening, and deepening, and beautifying, the whole of his earthly life.

Gently, from his pastoral hills, up the sacred mount of knowledge, is led our shepherd boy of Lavaudieu ; and we find him receiving his elementary lessons from one of those devoted women known as " Sisters of Instruction," who, after the Revolution had decimated so many of the teaching orders of France, gave their lives and energies to the training of Catholic youth. These " Sisters of Religious Instruction" did not live in community, and were bound by no special rule. Singly, they would penetrate the most remote provinces of France ; and with the courage of the pioneer, and the love of the apostle, endure every species of hardship, in order to bring the light of education to the isolated children of their native land. Frequently, bred in circles of ultra refinement, these delicate women would endure the fatigue of difficult travel, and insufficient accommodation, with the zeal of a Hannah Moore, and the devotion of a Florence Nightingale. Such was the source from which the youthful Louis received the rudiments of common education, and the elements of that deeper science whose hieroglyphics are written everywhere on the universe of God. The picturesque ruin of the old abbey of Benedictines was the noble schoolroom in which the little peasant lads were gathered, and amid the weird old corridors, the crumbling arches, the echoing halls where silence brooded on her ivy mantled throne, and shadowy wings beat upon the holy solitude, the young Yally gained his first impressions of the sacredness, the mystery, the awful import of human life. The " Sister of Eeligious Instruction," was accustomed to wear a light veil as the garb of her office. Often, when the gentle face of the teacher was turned from him, the son of Simon Yally would grasp her drapery and press it reverently to his lips. To the awakening spiritual consciousness of the child, it seemed the visible emblem of the grace and love and inspiration that clothed the venerable woman's life as with a mantle of imperishable beauty. They weave in India, a web of

24 FOR THE HOXOR OF THE KING.

subtle tissue of such exquisite texture that it remains invisible until exposed to the dew, and it is hy the glittering drops alone, that one is made aware of its presence. Thus it is with the highest life ; its sacred ministration is so subtle as to remain invisible until the silver dews of rescued souls are caught to gleam upon it. And, in the gentle " Sister of Instruction " who molded the youthful heart of Louis, this truth was beautifully manifest.

Night fell still and starless one unusually gloomy evening, as a bevy of lads of the neighboring hamlet sally forth to the ancient castle, and filled with the spirit of mischief, conceive the design of playing a prank upon the venerable " Sister of Instruction." The lady lives in a time-stained chamber reached by means of one of the gloomiest and most sepulchral of the abbey's corridors. Taking some phosphorus, the boys trace the outline of a human form upon one of the darkest places of the crumbling wall — now lie in wait for their unconscious victim. Slowly, the weary dame paces the hollow-sounding corridors, and suddenly comes face to face with the glowing apparition. A heartrending shriek! the gentle teacher lies prone upon the pavement. The prank has gone too far; the overwrought nerves have snapped, and, for a time, the ladj lies motionless. The terrified lads run for assistance ; the dame is carried to her apartment, and recovers from her swoon under the kindly ministrations of the villagers. And, as out of the tiny notes of music are wrought the grand orchestral symphonies, so from this minor episode of suffering in the noble teacher's life of sacrifice, the sensitive soul of Louis Tally wrought the mighty principle of renunciation into the fabric of his life and ministry. But not precociously meditative, and in nowise grave beyond his years, is our little lad of Lavaudieu. On the contrary, a sprightly humor ripples over the graver undercurrent of his gentleness, as the sunlight ripples on the sleeping sea. The clever gift of repartee was his from earliest years, the keen perception of humor in all things ; a faculty — which perhaps, more than any other characteristic, sweetened and softened the varied difficulties, the abiding sorrows of his maturer years. And from the day when the tiny lad sallies forth on his first mission of importance — to haul canes for his father's vineyard, his native wit never forsakes him, and at times, it serves him well. A mirthprovoking picture is the wee son of Simon, wearing the funny little 'bonnet of Ardeche, and driving his plump donkey with as haughty pride as Alexander, when he rode Bucephelus. Behind the donkey is the skeleton-like wagon, with sprawling wheels and a pole in the middle, and upon the end thereof, the triumphant little Yally sits astride, as ecstatic as uncomfortable. Around, are the grave, historic woods ; above, the daffodil sky : and in the heart of the lad, is daffodil light, which he coins into merry words. A friendly grown-up neighbor, treading the forest aisles, enquires of Louis, " "What are you hauling, mon gargon f " The young workman, inflated with the importance of being entrusted with so great an errand anent his father's vineyard, glances mischievously at the sprawling ribs of his wagon, and makes answer straightway, "I'm hauling sand."

But recurring more frequently than any other in the woof and warp of his opening life, is the shining strand of his tender love of animals.

Between this child of Ardeche, reared so close to his native soil, that the rich earth odor permeates his spirit ; and the intuitive comprehension, the sympathy, the subtle comradeship with all creation, animate and inanimate, enters into him, and becomes part and parcel of his being. The old Greek myth of AntaBus has its foundation in a sublime truth of the universe; whenever the children of men come into contact with the great earth mother, they draw from her bosom, new strength and inspiration.

Besides the sheep upon the morning hills, Louis has his little family of pets, and even the homely fowls of his mother's yard, the downy geese and noisy chanticleers, all know the boy and hail him " Bon ami." And it is in connection with the former much villified bird, that we hear the key-note of the more rugged characteristics of the lad.

One sunny morning, the thrifty Simon and Marie Yally, after the manner of the sturdy folk of Lavaudieu, trudge to a neighboring market town with a goodly company of their snow white geese to sell therein. John, Marguerite, and Louis, are left behind, each to the separate task appointed by les tons parents. J^ow, the young Louis, intoxicated with the subtle wine of life, and the keen awakening of his own self-consciousness, hastens into the domicile, while his unconscious brother and sister are lingering without, bars doors and windows, and armed Avith a big horsewhip, keeps the hapless John and Marguerite at bay on the outside of the ramparts, until evening colors paint the watching hills, and Simon and Marie return from their journey, and unceremoniously run the blockade. The young Rienzi goes supperless to bed, a fact which in nowise lessens his sense of mastery, which feeling of elation the cookies of Grandmere surreptitiously conveyed into Coventry do much to augment and to justify. And to this same Grandmere, dear soul that she was, did the grown-up Louis, in after years, owe many of the sweetest and tenderest memories of his heart.

Such outbursts of self-assertion as the above, are merely the spra}^, not the silver current of his character ; into which, even in early child> hood, the music of his voice has stolen. ]N"atural amiability, evenness of temper, uniform gentleness, and abiding tenderness, are blended in the beautiful smile that is one of the most striking characteristics of his personality. Always fragile, but with clear, firmly-molded features, and the responsive blue eyes of the Ardeche peasant, our lad of Lavaudieu may pass unnoted among the sturdier sons of his native hamlet. Ever retiring, seldom conspicuous in their rude, though kindly games, but a certain thoughtfulness, an indescribable suggestion of concentration to the closely observant eye, marked the little Yally as one elected to enter the inner sanctuaries of life and thought, and upon whom the far-off splendor of Shechinah has already cast its imperishable radiance. About the period of seven years, the strong energies, the mental vitality of the boy, begin to manifest themselves in an eager desire to work — to labor somewhere, somehow ; and the incapacity of his constitution will be one of the means used by the Designer of human character to develop the fallow spiritual forces within his earnest nature.

As gently, and as imperceptibly as the diverse influences of earth and air and sea are absorbed into the life of the plant, and transmuted into the bloom and fragrance of the flower in nature's vast alembic, so are the unlovely incidents, the harsh and ungracious episodes, aye, even the sins and errors of the heart, melted in the chalice of Eternal Wisdom and changed into the holiest lessons and highest aspirations of our lives. And so, when Louis Yally is marched by his mother (by the ear), down the village street to the little church, and thrust into the confessional as penance for some heedless prank there is wrought one of those wondrous changes which even upon so young a lad, leaves its shining mark forevermore. Kebellious, indignant, resentful, and wounded in pride, is the sobbing boy, as the venerable cure draws the little slide, and looks with mild eyes upon the youthful prodigal. The heart of the child is a veritable chaos. Stormy defiance rages within him. Gradually the boy grows calmer. The gray haired cure speaks. Somehow, somewhere, from some far off dawn the Light begins to break ; out of immeasurable distance, a sudden quiet comes. The lad is still, his sobs are less frequent — now they cease. The cure murmurs on. The Light grows stronger — suddenly the radiance of some great love word flashes across the tired little heart now listening with rapt attention. With a cry, the lad leans forward, and the big hot tears fall thick and fast, but chaos is over, Cosmos is at hand. Into the turbulent spirit of the child steals a great, refreshing sorrow — the deep, sweet grief of true repentance. And thus in the soul of the Yallys' son is wrought the wonder of his spiritual Genesis.

CHAPTEE II

vox DEI

The shining sands within the glass fall silently and tell the perfect hour ; and gently the golden years of youth fall one by one within the sphered crystal of a noble human life.

The shepherd boy of Lavaudieu, wise with the wisdom of the dawn and of the night, learned in the lessons of grass and wood and stream, in the deep philosophy of inanimate nature, in the glorious "Ethics of the Dust," reaches by gradations as gentle as his native sheep paths, the statue of perfect youth, radiant with hope and promise, sun-bright with love and all compelling faith.

At the age of fourteen years, Louis Yally passes from the care of the noble Sister of Instruction to that of the teacher of the village high school, if the modest curriculum offered by its tutor entitles his establishment to so highsounding a title.

Little to win the heart, or kindle the inspirations of a lad like Louis, is afforded by the homely schoolhouse and daily regime of this commonplace rural academy. And to the shepherd boy, accustomed to the freedom of the hills, to the varied delights of open air life in the beautiful region of Lavaudieu, the confinement of the school grows irksome and the lad chafes under the unfamiliar restrictions.

And yet, the quaint moss-grown schoolhouse is not without its homely beauty. Through the broad, low windows, the trembling vine leaves weave shadow tapestries, changing, kaleidoscopic, like the destinies of the little peasants being fashioned every moment by another Light shining amid the gloom of Evil.

Within, the unmolested spider spins her wondrous web from viewless looms of light and air. Everywhere, the silver wheels are turning. In the green pastures without, the young lambs sleep beside the stream and great-eyed cattle doze in deep content. Anon, the clear tinkle of a sheep bell sounds close beside the schoolhouse door. At the sweet, familiar music, Louis Yally half arises from his bench and his fresh, 3-oung heart thrills with the love of the old pastoral life and the keen desire to return unto it, — the voice of the fields is calling ! But the lad must heed it not. The shepherd of Lavaudieu is to watch in other pastures, and to guide his flocks upon the meadow-lands of God.

In the mature life of Louis Yally no allusion is made to the history of the village Pedagogue ; but the simple uprightness, the homely maxims, the unswerving rectitude of the schoolmaster have an abiding influence upon the character of his pupil.

Though warm-hearted and naturally responsive, Louis does not make any close friendship while under the instruction of the rural schoolmaster. But in the warp and woof of human life, the prismatic skeins of character are blended by the fingers of environment into strange and wonderful patterns. I^ot a stream flows, a flower blooms, or a mocking-bird sings where one human eye can see, or one human heart can hear them, but the strength and purity, the fragrance and the song thereof enters the soul and becomes a part of its nature forevermore. And the Master Teacher, who instructs in many ways.

vox DEI. 35

who has given us Eevelation and who has given us nature, meant the latter to enter, even as the former, into our plastic spirits, and to impart to them its supreme lesson. With Louis Yallj, as with other men whose lives are great and simple, the gospel of the fields, the literature of the forest, remained until the end, the source of noble inspiration. But the second revelation is soon to come.

A Sabbath dawn replete with peace, the peace that loves to dwell in the morning vineyards of Lavaudieu, spreads its dove-like wings above the hamlet. Simon and Marie Tally, accompanied by the elder children, have disappeared down the village path, leaving the young Louis in the cottage home. A painful cut upon the foot keeps the boy a prisoner, and the restless lad is chafing under his enforced inaction, as a venerable stranger approaches the humble door. He is about to knock with his pilgrim's staff, when Louis, who has been idly watching the fleecy clouds drift into the infinite, recognizes the visitor's holy garb and hastens to unlatch the door ; kneeling first, as is the custom of the peasant of Ardeche, to receive his priestly benediction. As the serious eyes of the little lad are lifted to the pilgrim's countenance, a wistful look steals over the kindly features of the latter and the stranger speaks, gently passing his hand the while over the child's uplifted brow.

" Surely, you are Simon Yally's son, my little man. I seem to see your father in you, as I knew him long ago ; and it is he I seek for he is my dear kinsman."

" You are a priest — a holy priest — and yet our kinsman ! " the delighted boy exclaims. " Surely, you will tarry with us for a while. The family have gone to Mass, mon Pere, but if you

will kindly stay with me " " Of all things

I should like that, little one, but" — a graver look flits swiftly over the countenance of the priest — " why are you not, likewise, at the Sabbath Mass ? "

Timidly, the boy puts forth his foot and the good Cure Yally looks sympathetically upon it.

" Perhaps my little one would forget the pain if he could sit a while by yonder stream."

Louis' face grows radiant but quickly clouds again as he casts a rueful glance at the swollen member.

" IS'ay, man Pere, I cannot walk. The cut is bad "

^'Aha! that need not hinder," replies the stranger priest ; " see, I will have you there in a twinkling."

Before the blushing lad can offer protest, the kindly stranger snatches him from the ground and takes the fishing-tackle from the wall. A few sturdy strides bring the new companions to the border of the village stream.

So still the place, so full of soft, prismatic light, the Sabbath grace seems visible upon it and the voices of unseen birds sing jubilant Glorias amid the mysterious leaves.

The willow boughs bend low above the water and the soft monotone of the reeds, the gentle swaying of the lilies, and the cool tinkle of the stream calm the overwrought nerves of the lad. Little by little, the soothing fingers of the water woo the feverish foot ; and before the cure can remonstrate, Louis stands triumphantly in the midst of the shallow branch.

" Surely, you are rash, my little one, and your wound will be greatly injured. You must not linger in the water — come."

"A moment, mon Pere.^'' The reluctant boy hesitates, bent upon his will. Seeing his irresolution, the cure is silent for an instant. Now, as a sudden inspiration flashes over him, he exclaims in solemn tones : — " Louis, do you know you may become a priest of God some day ? " Half dazzled and suddenly startled by so glorious a prediction, the lad sways forward and almost loses his balance. A swift pallor sweeps across his features and is succeeded by a burning flush that makes him tingle with strong excitement.

Another moment. Only the swish of the lilies, the sob of the reeds, the stirring of leaves break the quivering silence. Now

"Can that be true, mon Pere ; may Louis Yally be a priest some day ? "

" Surely, my son, if he will pray and labor to that end."

A sudden sunbeam, piercing through the trees, kindles a halo upon the brow of the boy ; and a light reflected from the "sea of glass" burns in the smile that glorifies his features.

" Then, mon Pere^^'' says the enthusiastic lad, his deep emotion finding utterance ; " then, mon