The St. Elisabeth Chapel By Marcel Wyseur, Registrar to the Military Court. La Panne, August 26, 1915
(To the patriotic devotion of M. Louis Gilmont)
Everyone knows of the admirable institution founded by Dr. Depage at La Panne: "The Ocean Hospital." A few miles away from the firing line, he has entirely created an establishment which is the most perfect thing of its kind, an institution which, for the last year, has rendered immense service daily. Ever since it was opened at the end of 1914, this hospital has been continually enlarged. Various detached buildings and several fresh departments have been added to the house as it first stood. The latest improvements, as regards science and hygiene, have been introduced and it does not seem possible that a more complete organisation, answering so thoroughly to all needs, could be carried out at the front. In rendering homage here to those who are responsible for this work of public service, we are only anxious to bear testimony to its utility and to acknowledge the merit of the founders of the institution and of all their devoted collaborators. Doctors and nurses alike deserve more than the gratitude of the[Pg 369] Belgian army and people. They deserve our admiration too.
The last Sunday in August, we were present at the Inauguration of one of the fresh additions to this immense "everything" which constitutes the Ocean Hospital. It was the Inauguration of the Chapel. At the limit of the downs, this simple church, which has sprung out of the earth, as though by magic, faces the sea and the country. It is a building on primitive architectural lines, surmounted by a little sturdy spire. Nothing more was necessary. It was certainly a most impressive scene when the little procession of believers wended their way to the service, called there by the bell of the Convent of the "Pauvres Claires" of Nieuport. The three naves were soon full. In the choir, Her Majesty the Queen, who had graciously deigned to be present at the ceremony, had taken her place, and behind her were a crowd of wounded soldiers. The altar reflected the light of all the burning tapers, the incense was smoking in the silver vessels, and, over yonder, between the nave and the choir, the organs were singing of joy and happiness. The good saints and the little chubby angels could neither believe their eyes nor their ears. The poor, who had expected to die in the general earthquake when their churches were bombarded and the infernal battle was raging around them, arrived here now from everywhere; from Nieuport—the Dead; from Caeskerke—the Sorrowful; from Pervyse—the Devastated; and from Ramscapelle—the Solitary. One evening, they had all met in a room. A lamp was burning in front of a tabernacle, there was a kneeling bench for communion, a confessional-box, a pulpit, and some saints, too, as astonished as they were themselves.[Pg 370] Were they really not dreaming now? Was their nightmare over? This was a church, a real church like their own! It was full of people, too, and the psalms were being chanted by the choristers. All this seemed more beautiful than the finest dream, and at this festival they forgot all their past anguish and the nightmares they had lived through. And in the midst of the general devotion, the Reverend Father Hénusse, chaplain to the 84th Battery, pronounced the following eloquent words:
"Madame,
"We are to-day inaugurating a Chapel, which, in our gratitude, we have spontaneously dedicated to St. Elisabeth. In the liturgical intention of this dedication, St. Elisabeth was that admirable woman, Elisabeth d'Anjou, a heroine of goodness, gentleness, and charity, whom the Catholic Church has placed on its altars and about whose touching glory everyone has heard. In our dedication, there is something else though, and no one, at any rate no Belgian, will make any mistake about this. In our eyes, the good saint of the twelfth century has been reincarnated in the twentieth century. A few rays from her halo have come to encircle another forehead. Her name is repeated once more, but with an accent of veneration and of tenderness, more keenly felt than would be the case for a foreign Queen who died long centuries ago. In short, according to us, the Ocean Chapel has two patron saints. The one is reigning in heaven above in glory, and only lives on earth in the memory of Christian generations. The other patron saint is She who reigns over the last sands of what was Belgium, but who lives in the hearts of us all.
"When the long ordeal of this war shall have come[Pg 371] to an end, this humble chapel of wood, which we hope may become historical, will be clothed afresh in a mantle of stone and adorned with the splendour of souvenirs in its coloured glass windows, and in its frescoes. We shall certainly see then the sweet face of the gentle Elisabeth d'Anjou, and the miracle of the roses and the miracle of the leper will be evoked for us. We shall see the leper whom St. Elisabeth tended with her royal hands, to whom she gave her husband's bed, and who suddenly rose, dazzlingly bright, uttering the one word: 'Elisabeth,' for the leper was Jesus Christ!
"But by the side of those windows, Belgian mothers will ask for others and for other frescoes.
"They will want to see their Queen, who in time of peace, cared for their little children, their poor little children, some of whom were consumptive through poverty. They will want to see their Queen, who, when war broke out, cared for their big children, their poor big children, wounded and mutilated, their health shattered by battle. Belgian mothers will want to see her there, near to the other Saint, so that they may kneel to her and tell her, whilst on their knees, of the ardent gratitude of their hearts. They will want to see her there, because it is her place, beside Him—who pronounced those superhuman words which created Charity: 'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.' They will want to see her there beside Christ, who spake the name of Saint Elisabeth so tenderly, and who, to-day, will surely call another saint by that sweet name, with that accent of infinite tenderness which we all utter, Madame, in the respectful and fervent silence of our hearts.
[Pg 372]
"Madame:
"My dear friends:
"The great royal heart which thought of establishing a military hospital on the coast, on the very edge of the battle-field, and the generous hearts which helped in the realisation of the project, wished to make this establishment as perfect as possible.
"They have succeeded, and our Ocean Ambulance excites universal admiration.
"By opening this St. Elisabeth Chapel, perfection in this humanitarian work has been attained. The chapel is an essential part of any hospital. A chapel is necessary everywhere where man suffers, as it is a place for prayer. Suffering possesses the mysterious privilege of striking a man hard, of making him think about life. It throws him back on himself, as it were, makes him weep, remember, and dream, and when a man gives himself up to this great inner work, he is not far from finding God. He is ready to pray.
"Suffering, too, possesses the precious gift of humiliating a man, of making him feel the nothing that he is, and of making him realise of what little value he is, and when man is humiliated, he is not far from feeling God bending down towards him. He is ready then to pray.
"Finally, the effect of suffering is often to plunge a man into deep distr............