The Story of Catherine Labouré

Catherine Labouré (1806-1876), daughter of Pierre Labouré (1787-1844) and Madeleine Gontard (1769-1813), was the eighth of ten children. On October 9, 1815, her mother died suddenly. On the first night without her mother, Catherine climbed onto a chair to embrace the feet of the statue of the Blessed Virgin. There were many children in the house, and little Augustin was ill because of an accident, which led their father to send Catherine and Tonine to his sister Marguerite, who was married to a vinegar maker, Antoine Jean Rod, in Saint-Remi, 9 km from Fain.

Two years later, in January 1818, their father grew worried about Catherine and called the two girls back home. It is a celebration, for she is also coming back to receive her First Communion on January 25. For Catherine it is a joyful and profound spiritual milestone. Her older sister Marie-Louise, aged 23, whose departure for the Daughters of Charity in Langres had been delayed by circumstances, inspires Catherine, aged 12, to come to an understanding with Tonine, aged nine and a half, about a great decision:

“Go! The two of us will do the work here at home”.

She feels mature enough to carry this burden. She will bravely take on the meals to be served, the care of the dovecote cages, the henhouse, and everything else. Moreover, she is illiterate. Yet she would like to follow Marie-Louise. It is then, on the verge of turning eighteen, that she has a dream she considers full of meaning: an old priest is celebrating Mass. He turns around at the Dominus vobiscum and looks at her. That gaze remains imprinted on her: she will remember it for the rest of her life. On leaving the church, she goes to visit a sick person, as is her custom, but this time in the dream. The old priest meets her and says to her: “My daughter, it is good to care for the sick. You flee from me now, but one day you will be glad to come to me. God has plans for you”. She knows who it is, and this strengthens her calling.

Since one must be able to read and write to join the Sisters, she buys a textbook: she pays 30 gold francs (all her savings) to a swindler who teaches her only to write her name. When she was eighteen, Antoinette Gontard, her mother’s cousin, offered to take her to Châtillon to be educated at a well-known boarding school that she ran. Courageous, she accepted without saying a word.

One day, while going to the Sisters of Charity on the “rue de la Juiverie”, Catherine suddenly stops in front of a portrait in the entrance hall: “It is the priest from the dream! He exists! Who is he?” “Father, Saint Vincent de Paul”, the sisters reply (he had already been canonized in 1737). Catherine has made her decision, but how is she to carry it out? Entering as a postulant requires her father’s consent. There is no way to obtain permission; on the contrary, for his daughter’s baptism he has had a beautiful violet silk dress made, which will be part of her dowry. She is of marrying age; she ought to be thinking about that.

On May 2, 1827, Catherine was 21 years old. She knows her rights and knows how to find her way. Her father refuses: he has already given one daughter to God, Marie-Louise. Two is too many. She perseveres. The following year, in the spring of 1828, her father changed his approach. His son Charles, settled in Paris like all the others, has a restaurant formerly run by his wife. She dies on February 21, two years after their wedding. Charles needs help; Catherine will help him, and someone will end up falling in love with the young waitress. Fortunately for her, that love will not last. Meanwhile, her brother found consolation and remarried on February 3, 1829. Catherine is free!

When her sister Marie-Louise writes her a letter enthusiastically describing her happiness in serving “the poor and suffering members of the Church of Jesus Christ”, Catherine’s desire to become a nun grows even stronger. Marie-Louise has no doubt that the letter will come back to her like a boomerang, as is shown by the fact that it will lead Catherine to leave and return to her vocation. Catherine returns to the boarding school in Châtillon, whose intellectual and worldly atmosphere is foreign to her. But Sister Séri supports her and intercedes with her superior:

“Receive her; she is all frankness and piety. She is out of place among those ‘noble snobs’. She is a good village girl, the kind Saint Vincent loved.”

In January 1830, Sister Séri gave her favorable recommendation to the Motherhouse. On January 22, Catherine received a positive reply, packed her bags, and on April 21, 1830, returned to Paris by stagecoach:

“The formation is going to be hard”, they told her, but she was accustomed to patience, discipline, and availability, completely forgetting herself, and she was ready for anything. Nothing weighed on her, and she entered the novitiate.

The apparitions from April to December 1830.

Catherine was living in the happiness of having found her spiritual father: Saint Vincent de Paul, whose relics are exposed in the chapel above the reliquary.

“[The heart of Saint Vincent de Paul] appeared to me every time I came back from Saint-Lazare. I had the sweet consolation of seeing it […]. It appeared to me three times […], white, the color of flesh […]. Then I saw it red […]. And then I saw it red-black” (Life 73-74).

For her, these three colors signify innocence, love, and trial. Saint Vincent de Paul seems to her to be distressed, perhaps also because of the political circumstances of the time, and consoled only by the certainty that “those two families will not die”. The confessor, M. Aladel, does not approve:

“Do not listen to these temptations. A Daughter of Charity is made to serve the poor, not to dream” (Petite Vie de Catherine Labouré 3).

Here is another revelation: during Mass, the sacred Host becomes transparent like a veil, beyond the appearances of bread:

“I saw […] Our Lord in the Holy Sacrament […] throughout the whole time of my novitiate, except at those moments when I doubted. Then the next time I saw nothing more, because I wanted to go deeper […]. I doubted this mystery and thought I was mistaken”.

On June 6, 1830, Trinity Sunday, the vision takes on darker colors:

“Our Lord appeared to me as a king, with the cross upon His breast, in the Blessed Sacrament […]. It seemed to me that the cross flowed [from His breast] down to the feet of Our Lord and […] that Our Lord was stripped of all His ornaments. Everything fell to the ground. It was at that moment that I had the darkest thoughts”.

On the threshold of the Revolution of 1830, Catherine associates this stripping of Christ with what awaits the King of France:

“I cannot explain it, but I thought that the king of the earth would be lost and stripped of his royal garments”. The coronation of the king was regarded by some theologians as a sacrament: the king wore the garments of Jesus Christ. As for the nuns, they appreciate the vigorous and impeccable novice, but Sister Caillot, the third novice mistress, sometimes questions her (unaware of her particular graces), saying to her: “Well, Sister Labouré, are you in ecstasy?”

The apparition of Our Lady to Catherine Labouré (November 27, 1830) and the origin of the Miraculous Medal

On the evening of July 18, the eve of the feast of Saint Vincent, Sister Marthe recalls the founder’s piety toward the Virgin. Catherine takes her at her word:

“I fell asleep with the thought that that very night I would see my Good Mother. I had wanted to see her for so long!” And here is what happened: “At last, at half past eleven at night, I heard myself called by name: ‘My sister, my sister!’ […] I open the curtain. I see a child dressed in white, about four or five years old, who says to me: […] ‘The Blessed Virgin is waiting for you!’ […] I hurried to dress and went over to this child, who meanwhile remained standing without going beyond the head of my bed. […] I followed him, always on my left, for he gave off rays of bright light wherever he passed. The lights were lit everywhere we went: this surprised me very much. But I was even more surprised when I entered the chapel… The door opened as soon as the child touched it with the tip of his finger.” (Life 81).

She continues:

“But my surprise was even greater when I saw all the candles and torches lit: it reminded me of Midnight Mass. However, I did not see the Blessed Virgin at all […]. As I had been waiting for a long time, I began to look to see whether the women keeping vigil during the night were passing through the tribune. At last the hour came, and the child let me know. He said to me: ‘Here is the Holy Virgin. Here she is.’ I hear a noise… like the rustling of a silk dress, coming from the side of the gallery […]. The child who was there said to me: ‘Here is the Holy Virgin.’ It would be impossible for me to say what I felt at that moment, what was happening within me. It seemed to me that I did not see the Blessed Virgin. It was then that the child no longer spoke to me as a child, but as a man: in a louder tone of voice and with stronger words. Then, looking at the Blessed Virgin, I did nothing but spring to her side, kneeling on the altar steps, my hands resting on the knees of the Blessed Virgin. That was the sweetest moment of my life. It is impossible for me to say what I felt at that moment. She told me how to conduct myself with my director and many other things that I must not tell. How to conduct myself when I am in sorrow.” (Life 84).

The Virgin shows her

“with her right hand, the foot of the altar. That is where I must go and prostrate myself […], pour out my heart”, Catherine continues. “I will receive all the consolations I need […] I asked her what all those things I had seen meant. […] She explained everything to me” (Life 85). Catherine relates nothing more in the account, but she will summarize it in her autobiography of October 30, 1876: “My daughter, the good God wishes to give you a mission. There will be sorrows, but you will be able to overcome them, knowing that you are doing it for the glory of the good God. You will know what this has to do with the good God. You will be tormented until you have told the one who is charged with guiding you. You will be contradicted, but you will have grace. Do not be afraid. You will see certain things. Tell everything with confidence and simplicity. Trust. Do not be afraid. Take note of what you will see and hear. […] You will be inspired in your prayers; take note of this” (Life 85).

This promise of help is followed by the announcement of misfortune:

“The times will grow worse. Misfortunes will fall upon France. The throne will be overthrown. The whole world will be overwhelmed by misfortunes of every kind (the Holy Virgin seemed to be in great sorrow as she said this). But come to the foot of the altar. There graces will be bestowed on all who ask for them with confidence and fervor: adults and children. Graces will be bestowed in a particular way [upon] those who ask for them. My daughter, how I love to pour out graces on the community above all. I love to do it, happily. [And yet] I am in sorrow. There are many abuses of regularity. The rules are not observed. There is great laxity in the two communities. Tell this to the one charged with looking after you, even though he is not a superior. He will be entrusted to the community in a particular way. He will have to do everything in his power to restore the rule to full force. Tell him, on my behalf, to be vigilant about bad reading, wasted time, and visits. When the rule is once again in force, there will be a community that will join yours. This does not usually happen. But I love all this… Say that I welcome you. God will bless you, and they will rejoice in great peace” (Life 85-86).

“The community will rejoice in great peace. It will become great”, Our Lady concluded. But she immediately added the announcement of imminent troubles.

“Great misfortunes will come. The danger will be great. Yet do not fear; tell them not to fear! God’s protection is always present in a very special way, and Saint Vincent will protect the community (the Blessed Virgin was sad all the while). But I myself will be with you. I have always watched over you. I will grant you many graces. The time will come when the danger will be great. People will think that all is lost. At that moment I will be with you! Have confidence; you will have my visit and the protection of God and of Saint Vincent in both communities. Trust! Do not be discouraged, because at that moment I will be with you. But it will not be so with the other communities. There will be casualties. (the Holy Virgin had tears in her eyes as she said this). Among the clergy of Paris there will be victims: Monsignor the Archbishop (again tears flow at these words) will die” (Life 86-87).

This prediction will not be fulfilled in 1830. Nor does it refer to the death of Msgr. Affre, killed on the barricades in June 1848. In her memoirs, Catherine specifies the moment: forty years after the vision of 1830: Msgr. Darboy, in 1871. The apparition insists on the imminent misfortunes:

“My daughter, the Cross will be scorned. It will be thrown to the ground. Blood will flow, and the side of Our Lord will be opened anew. The streets will be full of blood. Monsignor the Archbishop will be stripped of his garments (here the Blessed Virgin could no longer speak; sorrow was etched on her face). ‘My daughter,’ she said to me, ‘the whole world will fall into sadness’” (Life 87).

In her memoirs of 1856, Catherine narrates the end of the apparition:

“I stayed there I do not know how long. All I know [is that] when it began, I saw nothing but something fading away, finally something more than a shadow coming from the side of the [future] gallery [on the right], [along] the same way by which it had come. I rose from the altar steps and saw the child [there] where I had left him. He said to me: ‘She is gone.’ We went back the same way, all lit up as before, with the child always on my left. I believe this child was my guardian angel, who made himself visible to show me the Blessed Virgin, because I had prayed very much that he would obtain this favor for me. He was dressed in white and carried a miraculous light with him, that is, he shone with light; he was between four and five years old. When I got back to my bed, it was two o’clock in the morning […]. I heard the hour strike. I could not fall asleep again.” (Life 88).

So the whole thing lasted two and a half hours, and Catherine, perfectly lucid until morning, is certain that she was not dreaming. But how can she tell all this to her confessor, M. Aladel, who is so discouraging?

To explore more deeply the Marian devotion that inspired Catherine Labouré, see Paul VI’s Apostolic Exhortation Marialis Cultus, on the cult of Mary in the life of the Church.

Delve deeper into your studies: explore Mariology, Marian Theology, Marian apparitions, and the Postgraduate Program in Mariology.