On January 20, 1842, in the Roman parish of “San Andrea delle Fratte”, a 27 year-old Jewish man named Alphonse Ratisbonne, native of France, converted to Catholicism instantaneously, enlightened by a grace. He received an apparition of Our Lady just as she appears on the Miraculous Medal. What happened in that moment of grace is depicted by Alphonse himself in letters and in the legal declaration in the vicariate of Rome, in order to certify the veracity of the event. Alphonse Ratisbonne was baptized and received into the Catholic Church by Cardinal Patrizi on January 31, 1842. He was later ordained a priest in 1847.

The following is a summary of the autobiographical letter in which Alphonse describes the journey that led him to Rome and what he experienced interiorly.

I began studies in the Royal College of Strasbourg, France, where I made more progress in the corruption of my heart than in the acquisition of knowledge. It was around the year 1825 (I was born May 1, 1814). It was then that my brother, Theodore, in whom we had placed our hopes, announced his conversion to Christianity. A short while afterwards, in spite of the desolation caused, he went even further and was ordained a priest, practicing his ministry in the same city, before the inconsolable gaze of his family.

I was young; my brother’s behavior disgusted me and I began to hate his habit and his person. Having been educated among Christian youth with attitudes of indifference, I had not felt up until then either like or dislike towards Christianity. My brother’s conversion, which had been considered an unexplainable madness, gave me reason to believe in the fanaticism of the Catholics and I was horrified of them.

At that time I had already received my inheritance, since as a child I had lost first my mother and then my father. I had been left with a very wealthy uncle who, as he did not have children of his own, lavished all his affection on his brother’s children. This uncle of mine made me aspire to the ownership of his own estate. I studied Law in Paris and later was called back to Strasbourg by my uncle, who tried to convince me to stay with him. I would not be able to enumerate sufficiently the many gifts he bestowed on me: horses, coaches, trips, etc. He filled me with his generosity and he denied me nothing. To these signs of affection, he added a very positive proof of his trust: he signed over his estate to me and even promised me benefits as his associate: a promise which was fulfilled on January 1, 1842, while I was in Rome.

My uncle scolded me for only one thing: ‘You like the Les Champs Elysées too much.’ I thought of nothing but pleasure. I dreamt of nothing except parties and diversions and I let myself be led by my passions.

I was a Jew in name only. I didn’t even believe in God. I had never opened a religion book, and in my uncle’s house, as in the houses of my brothers and sisters, not even the least precept of Judaism was practiced.

There was an emptiness in my heart and nothing made me happy. I had a niece, the daughter of my older brother, who had been promised to me when we were both children. In her I saw my future and the hope for the happiness that awaited me. It would be hard to imagine a sweeter, nicer, and more good-humored girl. I only hated one member of my family: my brother Theodore. He loved me, however. His habit disgusted me, his presence annoyed me, and his words, serious as they were, ignited my anger.

Looking at my fiancée awakened in me a type of feeling for human dignity. I began to believe in the immortality of the soul. Moreover, I began as if by instinct to pray to God. I thanked Him for my good luck in life, but I was still not happy.

Considering the young age of my fiancée, it was decided for the wedding to be called off until later. She was sixteen. I was to go on a trip before the wedding. I didn’t know where to go. My sister, who was in Paris, wanted me to go to live with her. A very dear friend of mine invited me to Spain. In the end, I liked the idea of going to Naples and spending the winter in Malta, to improve my frail health. I stayed for one month in Naples, visiting places and writing down everything. More than anything else I would write against religion and priests who, in that city, seemed to me to be out of place. How many blasphemies I wrote! If I speak of them, it is to show the wretchedness of my soul. I wrote to Strasbourg that in Vesuvius I had drunk the liquor “Lacryma Christi” (tears of Christ) to the health of Father Ratisbonne and that I had liked those tears.

TO ROME, NO!

I had no desire to go to Rome. My fiancée wanted me to go directly to Malta and she sent me a prescription for my doctor, recommending that I spend the winter there, forbidding me to go to Rome because of the widespread malaria.

How did I end up in Rome? I cannot say; I cannot explain it. I think I must have made a mistake. Instead of going towards the departures for Palermo, which is where I wanted to go, I found myself in the ticket office for Rome. I left Naples on January 5th and arrived in Rome on the 6th, feast of the Three Kings. I said that I would leave January 20th to go to Malta.

At first, Rome did not give me the impression that I had awaited. As I had only a few days for this improvised excursion, I was forced to take it all in as best I could: the ancient and modern ruins that the city had to offer to the tourist’s curiosity. On January 8th, as I was walking through the city, I heard someone call me: it was Gustavo de Bussieres, a childhood friend. I was glad to see him, since the solitude had begun to weigh heavily upon me. We went to eat at his father’s house. When I walked into the house, Theodore de Bussieres, the oldest son of this prestigious family, walked out. I knew that he was a friend of my brother and that he had abandoned his Protestant faith and converted to Catholicism. This was enough to inspire in me a profound dislike. However, as he had journeyed to the Orient and Sicily, it seemed a good idea before traveling, to ask him for advice. Whether it was for this reason or for mere politeness, I expressed my desire to speak with him.

I continued visiting Rome the whole day, apart from the two hours I spent with Gustavo. He tried to convince me, along with two other friends, to remain in Rome for the time of the festivals, but his insistence proved useless. I had to make good-bye visits and the one to the baron of Bussieres only reminded me of the cursed duty which had been self-imposed. Lord Theodore de Bussieres spoke to me of the grandeurs of Catholicism and I responded with irony and with the accusations that I had read and heard so often.

“Well, anyways,” Lord Bussieres told me, “Given that you hate superstition and profess extremely liberal doctrines, given that you have a very wise and courageous spirit, would you be brave enough to submit yourself to an innocent dare?”
“What dare?”
“You must carry with you an object that I will give you. Here it is! It is a medal of the Blessed Virgin. It must seem ridiculous, right? However, for me this medal has a great value.”

I have to admit that the proposal surprised me for its childish originality. I did not expect what had occurred. My first reaction was to laugh. I accepted the medal as proof to show when I would tell the story of what had happened to my fiancée. Said and done. I put the medal around my neck and burst out in laughter: “Ha, ha, ha! Now I am Roman, Catholic and Apostolic!” It was the devil prophesying through my lips.

THE MEMORARE

“Now,” he told me, “You have to finish off the dare. It consists in praying every morning and evening the Memorare, a very short and effective prayer that Saint Bernard prayed to the Virgin Mary.”
“What is this Memorare?,” I exclaimed, “Let’s get on with it!” At that moment, I felt that all the excitement in me was being stirred up. I begged Lord Bussieres to stop the dare there and ridiculing him, I complained of not having myself a Hebrew prayer to offer him, since I did not know any. My companion insisted and said that refusing to recite this short prayer would nullify the dare and thus prove the voluntary obstinacy of which the Jews had been accused.

I didn’t want to give the thing too much importance and said, “Fine! I promise that I will recite this prayer. Even though it will not benefit me, I do not think that it can harm me!” Lord Bussieres went to find the prayer and then invited me to copy it down. I accepted. “Under the condition,” I told him, “that you keep my copy and I keep the original.” My intention was to add more evidence of the event to my notes.

We parted and I went to the theater, where I forgot about the medal and the Memorare. Upon my return home, I found a card from Lord Bussieres mentioning that I would have to return his Memorare before leaving the city. The next day, I packed my bags and I began to copy the prayer: “Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known that anyone who fled to your protection, implored your help, or sought your intercession, was left unaided. Inspired with this confidence, I fly to you, O Virgin of virgins, my mother. To you I come, before you I stand, sinful and sorrowful. O mother of the Word Incarnate! Despise not my petitions, but in your mercy hear and answer them.” I copied the words mechanically, almost without paying attention. It was late and I was tired.

The next day, January 16, I sealed my passport and finalized the details of my trip, but on the way, I repeated without end the words of the Memorare. I was amazed how these words had remained so present and profound in my spirit! I could not keep my mind off them; they came to me constantly, I repeated them continually, as happens with certain musical melodies that stay with you without your desiring them. At eleven o’clock, I went to visit Lord Bussieres to give him back his mysterious prayer. I spoke to him of my trip. He suddenly exclaimed, “It’s strange that you want to leave Rome right when the people are all coming to celebrate the feast of Saint Peter.” I replied that I had already reserved and paid for the ticket. However, not knowing why, I decided to prolong my stay in Rome. I gave in to the insistence of a man whom I barely knew and whom my closest friends would have rejected.

What was this irresistible impulse that made me do something that I did not want to do? Oh, Divine Providence! I went on walks with Lord Bussieres. We talked about what impressed us: a monument, a painting, etc. Religious themes also came up, which Lord Bussieres introduced very naturally. I thought that if there was one thing that could make a man take distance from religion, it was the imposition placed on him to convert. Because of my jovial spirit, I laughed at even the most serious of things and united the infernal fire of my blasphemies with my flippant ridiculing. Lord Bussieres remained calm and collected. He even told me: “In spite of your behavior, I am convinced that one day you will be Christian. There is something about your honesty that assures and convinces me that one day you will be enlightened, although for that to happen, God will have to send you an angel from Heaven.” “Well said,” I responded, “because any other way would make it difficult.”

On Wednesday, the 19th, I found myself with Lord Bussieres once again. He seemed sad and his spirit broken. I was to leave on the 22nd for Naples, as I had reserved the ticket once again. In the meantime, I kept thinking about the invocation of Saint Bernard with a curious impatience. At midnight, between the 19th and the 20th of January, I awoke with a fright. I saw before me a large black cross, without the body of Christ. I made an effort to apart this image from me, but I could not avoid it. Wherever I turned, there it was before me.

JANUARY 20, 1842!

After having eaten breakfast in the hotel, I went to see my friend Gustavo, who had returned from a hunting excursion. We parted around eleven o’clock. I stopped into a coffee shop in the Spanish Square, in order to look over newspapers. Alfredo de Lotzbeck, a protestant, approached me. We spoke of hunting, tastes, the festivals , etc. Upon leaving the coffee shop, I spotted the carriage of Theodore de Bussieres. He stopped and invited me to get in and go for a ride. We stopped a few minutes in the church of San Andrea delle Fratte. He said I could wait in the carriage, but I preferred to enter and see the church. The people inside were making preparations for a funeral and I asked for the name of the deceased person. Bussieres responded, “He was one of my friends: the Count Laferronays. His unexpected death is the reason for the sadness that you have seen in me during these days.”

The church of San Andrea delle Fratte was small, poor, and deserted. I think I was left almost completely alone. I wandered around, looking around me without thinking about anything. I only remember a black dog that jumped around me. Immediately this dog disappeared and the whole church as well. I saw nothing... no, I saw only one thing! How can I describe it? Oh, no! Human words cannot express the ineffable. All attempt to describe, as sublime as it may be, would be nothing but to profane the unutterable truth. I was there, on my knees, crying, with my heart as though outside my body, when Lord Bussieres called me once again back to reality. I was unable to respond to his many questions. But I took the medal that I was wearing and kissed, with great affection, the image of the Virgin radiant with grace. Oh, it was her!

I didn’t know where I was. I didn’t know if I was Alphonse or someone else. I experienced such a change, that I thought I was another person. An immense joy filled my entire soul. I could not speak. I did not want to reveal anything. I felt inside me something grand and sacred that made me call a priest. I went towards him and only after his having expressly asked me to, did I speak as best I could of what had occurred, with my heart trembling.

“ I saw what seemed like a veil before me,” declared Alphonse in his statement. “The church seemed completely dark, except for one chapel, as though all the light in the church had been focused on it. I turned my eyes toward the chapel radiant with so much light and I saw on the altar there, standing, alive, majestic, most beautiful and merciful: the Blessed Virgin Mary, similar in posture and form to the image seen on the Miraculous Medal. She indicated to me with her hand that I should kneel down. An irresistible force pushed me towards her and she seemed to tell me, “Enough already!” She did not say it, but I understood. Before this vision, I fell on my knees where I was. I made various attempts to lift my eyes toward the Blessed Virgin, but my respect and the glow kept my gaze lowered, without impeding my vision of that apparition. Glancing at her hands, I saw her expression of pardon and mercy. In the presence of the Virgin, in spite of the fact that she said nothing to me, I understood the horrible state in which I found myself, the deformity of sin, the beauty of the Catholic religion, in a word: I understood everything.”

I came out of the tomb, out of the dark abyss, and I was alive, perfectly alive, and I cried! I saw, at the bottom of abyss, the great miseries from which I had been rescued by an infinite mercy.

©HM Magazine No.134 - January/February 2007