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Through
the eyes of his soul Fr Victor Humarque died on 18 December, 1896, at Antony, France. He was born in Colmar, on 15 September, 1817, but a short time later his family moved to Saint-Dié (in the department of the Vosges). His father, despite his unceasing labour, was able only with great effort to provide bread for his 12 children. From the age of 12, Victor was happy to add the humble payment that his early talent brought him to his father’s earnings. This child proved to be truly gifted from his tenderest childhood, and the first reward of his study of music theory was to become a teacher of several rich children of Saint-Dié. At the same time, he was the most distinguished student at the best high school in the city. A brilliant future seemed to open before him in university teaching. But no, God was calling him urgently toward the priesthood. Ordination He was ordained on 30 October, 1842, by Mgr de Jerphanion, Archbishop of Albi. He devoted himself then, for two years, to the humble duties of a country priest. His excessive zeal ruined his health. The bishop of Saint-Dié, Mgr Manglard, learned with sadness the state of this young priest, and listening only to the inspiration of his charitable heart, brought him into his palace, and built up the health of his ailing assistant. Fr Humarque repaid his benefactor service for service. Successively tutor for the Count of Vesvrette and the Marquis of Lambertye, when he heard that Mgr Manglard had just been struck by illness, he left his position and stationed himself at the bedside of the man who had become to him like a second father. He attended him with a devotion inspired by that earlier shown toward him, and it came to pass that he gave the prelate final absolution and received his last sigh. Fr Caverot, vicar-general of Besançon, attended the funeral of Mgr Manglard. After the ceremony, he walked beside Fr Humarque, who, with mourning heart, exalted the charity of his benefactor, and concluded, “The man who must succeed him is to be pitied.” Several months later, Mgr Caverot was appointed to the see of Saint-Dié. Upon seeing Fr Humarque, he said to him, “Is it not true that I am indeed to be pitied?” Mgr Caverot brought into his service this distinguished and devoted young priest. As director of the cathedral and secretary-assistant to the bishop, he gave him all the proofs of affectionate attachment which had bonded their hearts ever since they had first met. When—obeying the call of God, Who wanted him to be “the poor priest and priest of the poor”—Fr Humarque left the Saint-Dié episcopal palace in 1856 to enter the noviciate of the Redemptorists, Mgr Caverot could not hold back his tears. He kept a photograph of the humble priest, and he honoured the various houses where he lived by many visits. Professed in 1857, he successively evangelized the regions of which the monasteries of Saint-Nicolas-de-Port, Châteauroux and Avon are the apostolic centres. He was a notable saviour of souls, still more by his exemplary virtues, incessant prayer and heroic sufferings than by his verbal talent. Alas! In the month of May 1879, a cruel trial fell upon the pupils of his eyes. At first Fr Humarque wept, but suddenly he gave thanks and broke into song with the Magnificat. He wrote:
Indeed, from that day on the facial appearance of Fr Humarque became more endearing than ever. His affable sanctity was a mixture of piety and poetry, of benevolent charity and austere duty. By the order of his superiors, he wrote poetry for relaxation and he left a great number of poems at his death. Above all, when the hand of God closed his eyes, he consecrated his time from thence forth to prayer and fraternal charity. In doing this he did not have to do himself violence; grace and nature prompted him to this type of life. A servant to his religious rule, he promptly settled himself, until eight days before his death, into all the duties of community life. Moreover, as the long hours Fr Humarque passed before the Blessed Sacrament were not enough to satisfy his thirst for union with God, he added to those his hours of solitude, when his confreres took walks. Always and everywhere he would be seen with his lips moving and his rosary in hand. Piety, the piety of a saint, was the soul of all his life. His charity From this Thabor, where he elevated himself in prayer, he loved to come down to the plains, where he would exercise his charity. His inability to work directly for the salvation of souls afflicted him, but he rejoiced in remembering that he was a missionary by his prayers and sufferings. He was also happy to have kept some action on souls through his confreres, and through the secular priests to whom he was spiritual director. Obliged by his blindness to depend more on his confreres’ charity than on his own heart’s appeal toward devotion and compassion, he gave in return for each service, however small, a touching recognition that continued to express itself in a thousand ways. And, in his relations his charity made him interesting and edifiying. Fr Humarque was very witty. Especially in the years when his imagination had kept all the springtime freshness of his impressions, his conversations were a quick succession of observations, jokes, puns and riddles. In the midst of the small change that he spent to please his neighbour, this man of God would always slip in like a golden coin, some pious reflection or edifying story. Even in the days of decay, when the soul seemed ready to sink under the weight of bodily infirmity, suddenly a leap full of spirit would bring to the lips of the ‘Old Blind Father’ that touching smile peculiar to children and the elderly. Above all he loved to repay the acts of generosity that he had received during his long career. The memories of his pure youth particularly attracted him, that charm that comes to all of us when age is come, bringing us back to the distant years, already coloured by the reflections of sunset. After death, the face of Fr Humarque took on an expression of heavenly serenity. It is said by his confreres, and by the many persons who came to pray near his open coffin, that they felt moved to pray to him rather than for him, touching their rosaries, crucifixes, and medals to his mortal remains. Nobody doubts that the eyes of the old blind Father, closed for 26 years to the light of day, contemplate the light of eternal glory. † [ Translated by Mr Robert Suzuki ] |