Lectures 

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Two priests, two estates, one cult?

The trials, tribulations and building frenzy of Fathers Bérenger Saunière and Louis de Coma

Delivered at the Sauniere Society Conference, Newbattle Abbey, March 31-April 1, 2007


Priest one: Bérenger Saunière

The “mystery of Rennes-le-Château” began as the mystery of Berenger Saunière. Saunière was a small-time village priest, in 1885 appointed to shepherd the souls of the remote hill-top village of Rennes-le-Château. When he died on January 22, 1917, he had already become a local enigma; in 2003, the entire story formed the inspiration for Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code, who named the murdered curator of the Louvre after our village priest: Saunière.

The mystery of Saunière circles around a simple question: what is the source of Saunière’s fortune? Where did his money come from? As Saunière was a small village priest, many jumped to the conclusion that the source had to be local, and linked with the village. Hence, “the mystery of Rennes-le-Château”, rather than “of Berenger Saunière”, was born. Still, we need to return the mystery from the village to the priest.

His life is generally divided into two stages:
1) from 1885 to 1905/6, when Saunière moved into Rennes-le-Château and from the mid 1890s onwards was able to pay for major construction works in the town, including renovations to the church, his presbytery, the cemetery, several gardens and the Villa Bethania, an enormous estate that continues to dominate the village;
2) from 1905 to the end of his life (1917), when Saunière was persecuted by bishop de Beauséjour, who had become his superior following the death of Mgr. Billard in 1902.
For sceptics, the trial has been used as the “deus ex machina”, which allegedly is able to explain everything. For believers, it is a period of Saunière’s life that postdates most of what is to them of most interest, namely the enigmatic building works in the village. In truth, it is neither.

The trial: prelims

The problem with his bishop probably dates back to November 19, 1906, when de Beauséjour visited Rennes-le-Château and found that Saunière’s parishioners complained about their priest. A priest who is not liked by his parishioners is a serious problem; but that was not all. De Beauséjour reported that an underage girl was present in the presbytery. She had no place there. He also found that Saunière was the object of suspicion by his colleagues, because of the presence of “suspect people” in the presbytery, possibly referring to the same or other underage women’s presence.
But what could de Beauséjour do to remedy the situation? He listed that Saunière’s buildings had been excessively expensive, without the existence of a paper trail. Furthermore, there had been numerous demands for masses in the diocese and throughout France, but there seemed to be no guarantee that actual masses had been said.
To any manager, the situation is transparent: four years into his job, the new bishop made the acquaintance of one of his subordinates, and stumbled upon what he felt was a dangerous situation. It is like the employee who has been hiding in a corner – or in Saunière’s case, on top of a hill – apparently without the previous manager never bothering to “manage” that employee. Still, that was not the situation. De Beauséjour’s predecessor was perfectly aware of Saunière, and of his amazing building works; he had been there when Saunière reopened the restored church. He had apparently not questioned where Saunière got his money from; perhaps he knew. But not so, it seemed, de Beauséjour.

The accusation

The situation lingered, until early 1909, when de Beauséjour and/or his team decided that the easiest solution would be to reassign Saunière to a different parish. Though this was not uncommon, it was somewhat out of the ordinary for a man, like Saunière, who had been the shepherd of his flock for more than twenty years.
The order was received on January 15 and Saunière was given one week, until January 22, to move to Coustouges, his new appointment. In his diary, Saunière wrote: “This exceptionally strong measure, without any warning, has hit me in the beginning of the year, and has troubled me greatly. I am taken aback, a broken man.”
That same week, he received a letter from the priest of Bages, one of his best friends, who wrote: “I assure you that your letter has strangely surprised me. If I could have feared what would happen to you at some point in the past, I did not see it happening now. The death of the poor priest Gaudissard may have awoken bad memories?”
Gaudissard was the priest of Antugnac, who took the position on June 1, 1891. For the previous year, Saunière had been priest of both Rennes-le-Château and Antugnac, until the latter position could be filled. Gaudissard suddenly died on January 9, 1909, at the age of 49. Of course, some, like Jean-Luc Robin, have not been able to refrain themselves from wondering that this may have been a “strange death”. Perhaps it is, but there is at present no evidence to suggest it is.

On further analysis, it is remarkable that de Beauséjour does not seem to act for many years, but as soon as Gaudissard dies, on January 9, within the week, there is an order by de Beauséjour that Saunière needs to move. And he is hardly given any time – a week, a pathetically small amount of time for a man who has lived in a village for more than twenty years. Could anyone really move that quickly, after such a long time? Yet, de Beauséjour seems intent on forcing the issue.
Rather than delve into the possible correspondence between Gaudissard’s death and de Beauséjour’s action, let us continue with Saunière’s imminent problem. He does visit to Coustouges, but his new parish is not to his liking. He does not move out by January 22, and on January 28, Saunière has obviously made his decision: he resigns from his post as priest of Rennes-le-Château.

You would think that for de Beauséjour, that would be the end of the matter: Saunière had resigned and the issue was resolved. Good riddance. But the bishop did not feel that way. The sequence of events would take up the latter years of Saunière’s life, and would be brought to the attention of the Vatican.

The file of the case, both at the Vatican and with the bishop, commences with a letter from the Bishop’s office, dated January 19, 1909, that re-affirms the Bishop’s instruction that Saunière must take up his new appointment at Coustouges. The next letter is dated January 29, in which Saunière is informed that the bishop does not accept his resignation. He urges Saunière to meet him in Carcassonne, to provide further detail as to why he does not want Saunière to remain in Rennes-le-Château. Even though his resignation is not accepted, the bishop says the resignation will be accepted if Saunière refused to go to Coustouges. It is a bizarre twist of reasoning, not uncommon in such dire situations.

Round two

That de Beauséjour would not let this one go became clear, even though it took him more than 18 months to have Saunière officially answer for what de Beauséjour saw as being transgressions.
One charge was that Saunière had trafficked in masses. A second point was that Saunière had to produce details of his accounts. A third charge was that Saunière had continued to solicit masses, even though the bishop had instructed him to desist. G. Cantegril, Vicar General and M. Charpentier, Clerk of the Court, ordered him to appear before the Court on July 16, 1910, to answer these charges. Saunière had not wanted to appear before the bishop 18 months before, and now, Saunière did not turn up in court either, so summons were issued ordering an appearance on July 23. He missed this session too, and was declared to be in contempt of court. He was thus given a default sentence, namely a suspension of one month. He should also restore the fees for the solicitation of masses, but the court was unable to determine the sum.
This could have been the end of it, but it was not. Saunière must have realised this was a beneficial verdict, but rather than accept, he petitioned the bishop and was reinstated.
Going for a default conviction is very much like the ticket one gets for speeding: you pay and it does not go to court. By going to court, you risk the chance of a higher punishment, even though you may be found innocent. Saunière, it seems, felt he was innocent, or perhaps he was so adverse to de Beauséjour that he felt he would not be defeated by this “man” whom he truly seems to have hated.
Still, if Saunière wanted to challenge the court, why did he not begin his defence earlier? Did he really want to show his contempt for the bishop? Or was he perhaps not at home when the letters arrived, and did he therefore miss the appointments?

Saunière was asked to appear on August 23, 1910. He had retained Maitre Mis of Limoux as his defence. The date was then changed to October 15, and Saunière had a new council, Dr. Huguet. Though Saunière did not attend the hearing, Huguet did defend his client.
Huguet claimed that there was no evidence that Saunière solicited for masses, but that he merely received requests for paid masses, tasks which he fulfilled between December 31, 1899 and June 29, 1909. Huguet claims that even though this amount seemed to have alarmed the bishop, it was not excessive and that Saunière had officiated these masses. 280 masses per year, he felt, was not an excessive amount.
On the second “charge”, Huguet reported that Saunière had an income of 193,150 francs, which Saunière had invested in good works: the restoration of the presbytery and the church were evidence of this, as well as the Villa Bethania. As to the third charge, that Saunière had continued to say masses despite the bishops’ interdiction, Huguet argued that Saunière had stopped as soon as the bishop had ordered him to.
Interestingly, Huguet added that Saunière’s income had come from donations, and that the bishop could not prove otherwise. Bold language for a lawyer, but then they are often reputed for that. Still, the boldness had underlined a basic problem, which is that the donations did not match the total amount of money.
Roughly ten years of 280 masses per year is 2800 masses. These cost between, in the early days, 1 franc, and in the later days, 1.5 franc. The total sum would therefore be roughly 3000 francs. With 1 franc equalling 15 Euros (or ten pounds or 15 dollars), we are talking about 45,000 Euros – or an income of 4500 Euros per year from masses.
But that is not the problem – nor is it excessive. The problem is that 3000 francs is a long way short of the 193,150 francs that Saunière declared. And that total sum is roughly 2.9 million Euros!

The verdict

The court heard the defence and deferred judgment to November 5; Saunière was asked to appear for the verdict. It was the only time he would actually attend. The sentence was not particularly harsh. The court felt it strange that faced with the large numbers of masses that Saunière received, that Saunière should give so many fees to other priests and still plead poverty when making requests. What the court was saying was that Saunière did, in their opinion, nothing wrong by soliciting masses. He asked for masses, pleading he needed the money, but he received so many requests, that he was unable to officiate these masses properly, and hence enlisted the help of other priests, to whom he gave the money he had received. What the court was saying was that if he did solicit these masses because he was poor, he should have said a few more masses than the 280 masses he did per year, so that he was less poor. But instead, the court was suggesting, Saunière preferred to remain poor, and thus gave the commission to his colleagues. Of course, the court knew that Saunière was not poor at all, but a legal sentence has got nothing to do with a search for truth… Not on this count at least.
The court noted that he could not provide any proof that he had said these masses, not even a list. Even though they could excuse a priest for failing to retain a register if he was the only party involved, it was inadmissible that Saunière did not keep a record of the money and masses that he had given to his colleagues. In short, the court stated that Saunière could not have worked out who was what due without some forms of record, and that if Saunière did not keep such records, that was negligence.
Still, Saunière was given the benefit of the doubt. Even if he had retained some money for masses that his colleagues had said, and which was therefore not his to keep, he had indeed, as Huguet had argued, given the money over to good works. As to count three, the court did side with the bishop: Saunière had continued to say masses, despite the bishop’s interdiction.

In short, on count 1 and 3, though Saunière was not convicted of trafficking, the court had found him guilty of culpable negligence in his accounting procedures and disobedient for continuing to solicit masses in spite of the bishop’s ban. He was sentenced to withdraw to a house of retreat, to undertake spiritual exercises, this for a ten day period, to occur during the following two months. The sentence was less harsh than the original one month suspension, which must have pleased Saunière.
However, it was not count 1 or count 3, the trafficking in masses, that was the problem. The big problem was count 2: Saunière had not been able to prove his income and the court would not put the issue aside. Saunière was told that within the month he was to present to the bishop details of his account. Though the court acknowledged that the roughly 200,000 francs that Saunière spent on his building works was mostly not from trafficking in masses, the court wanted further detail. Indeed, it was an enormous sum for a priest to spend… a poor priest at that!
The situation was, as with all legal cases, further complicated by the fact that the court argued that the money had been given to the parish priest, and not to Saunière as an individual. This statement was in essence a ploy of the court to argue that it had an important role in the case, as it involved Saunière as a priest in his function as a priest, not Saunière as an individual. If it involved Saunière as a private citizen, then the bishop’s court had no authority to make further enquiries.
Finally, the court stated that it was strange that Saunière had only now revealed the size of the sums he had spent; still they felt it was not the time or the place to examine his motives or the execution of his works.

2.9 million dollars

The court had deferred count two: the source of Saunière’s income. Largely cleared of trafficking in masses – with a slap on the wrist for not keeping proper records when involving colleague priests in assisting him – Saunière now faced the formidable task of explaining his income… his income of roughly – and at least – 200,000 francs, or almost three million Euros in today’s money.
It is clear that anyone would be stupefied when they hear that a small parish priest was able to spend three million Euros on some building works. How did he get the money?
Some sceptics have argued that the total amount of money must have originated from the selling of masses. This would mean that 200,000 people sent him money. If he started in 1885 and continued until 1910, he would have received 8000 commissions per year. This is twenty requests per day, every day.
Though sceptics may wish to believe this, the court did not. The court did accept that it involved a large number of masses (more than one a day), but that Saunière had dutifully carried out his task. In theory, the court could have argued that Saunière’s total income came from trafficking in masses. But no-one would have believed that a priest, even if he advertised in some magazines offering his services, would have received twenty commissions per day – 8000 commissions per year. They were an intelligent body that had worked out that there was a real problem. But they declined to be the ones who would delve into Saunière’s finances.

The ball was back in the court of de Beauséjour. On November 17, Saunière was advised of the sentence in writing by S. Bonnades, the dean of Couiza, indicating that he had ten days to appeal. He did appeal, on November 30. Why he waited is another small mystery, but perhaps once again he was not at home, or tried to show his defiance. In short, he was informed that his appeal was too late and that the sentence had gone into force on November 28.
With the sentence now in effect, a ping-pong exchange of letters ensued – as they always seem to do. On December 5, Saunière was informed that he was no longer allowed to say mass. December 17 was the deadline to produce his accounts, but he failed. The following day, Saunière, apparently on advice by his lawyer, sent a letter to Rome, to appeal against the judgment. The Congregation of the Sacrament judged the case obscure, and on February 14, 1911 returned a “lectum recursum”, which in essence meant that Rome had not resolved the situation; the ball was once again in the court of Carcassonne - literally.

On March 9, 1911, G. Cantegril of the court of Carcassonne, noted that Saunière had a certificate from D. Roche, declaring that Saunière’s health did not permit him to undertake the retreat he had been instructed to perform as sentence for his culpability on count 1 and 3. But it seems he was well enough to write a letter on March 13, 1911, to argue about count two. Saunière stated that the only documents he could offer were the breakdown of receipts, already accepted by the court during the proceedings, and the certificate from the mortgage registry. As to invoices that would show that the total expense was close to 200,000 francs, he would try to support what expenses he could, but he had not bothered to keep invoices that were more than two years old. In total, he sent 61 documents and asked for their return as they were essential to his personal security. It is a most enigmatic statement and it almost suggests as if at any moment, someone could come along and demand to see those invoices! He stated that he hoped to carry out his retreat ten days before Easter at the Grand Seminary in Carcassonne.
In short, Saunière was saying that he could not really prove that he had spent 200,000 francs on repairs work, as Huguet had alleged in court. There were some documents, but not everything had been retained. But that was not Saunière’s only problem – or major problem. Saunière could have lied, saying he had spent 200,000 francs, whereas he had only spent 50,000 francs. The question is why Saunière would have lied about it and bring himself into trouble. In court, one tends to minimise the amount of trouble, not inflate it. So it seems logical to suggest Saunière at least spent roughly 200,000 francs on repairs work – and perhaps more. Again, that was not Saunière’s major problem; the question was how he could explain where he got it from.

Saunière explained that problem in a letter on March 25, to Cantegril. He argued that the money originated from diverse incomes, including:
- funds from the collecting box, including from visitors from Rennes-les-Bains;
- an 1887 lottery; his brother’s generosity;
- the sales of a set of 33 postcards;
- his collection of 100,000 postage stamps;
- the occasional sale of furniture and related items, include some income from his lectures on the history of Rennes-le-Château.
Even from Saunière’s reply, it is clear that he is clutching at straws. What he is describing is the type of inventory you get from bailsmen. Saunière had to account for 200,000 francs and he was saying he got that money from selling postcards? From the collection box?

It did not take the court long to reach the same conclusion. On April 4, 1911, canon Charpentier stated that Saunière’s reply was very incomplete. He wanted to know what documents he had used to calculate the annual income of 1200 francs from the collecting box (this meant that Saunière stated that he roughly got 23 francs per week in this manner). Charpentier also wanted to know the dates of his brother’s largest donations.
Still, Charpentier stated that Saunière’s “expenditure account” was a series of documents showing a total sum of 36,000 francs, not 100,000 francs as he claims – and short of the total of almost 200,000 francs that the paper trail had to reveal. But before tackling the missing 100,000 francs, the court wanted to find out about the missing 64,000 francs, which would mean that half of Saunière’s income would be accounted for. At the moment, about one fifth was account for. The equivalent of 2.5 million Euros was so far not accounted.

On April 8, 1911, Saunière expressed his disappointment about the court’s disappointment relating to the information he had provided. He had not kept ledgers from the income from the collecting boxes. He stated that his brother’s donations came between 1895 and 1903. It was a good answer – whether true or not – for if Saunière had said that the donations came in eg. 1905, they would postdate the building works and the court would continue to fish even harder. Finally, he asks why he, as a priest, needed to submit such detailed demands, which were normally only required when there was a commercial bankruptcy.

A change of tactics

The bishop must have realised that he had to change tack. Therefore, the following day, April 9, a Commission of Enquiry was created to resolve the tricky “count two”: Saunière’s source of income.

The commission asked Saunière to justify the 52,000 francs that Saunière said he had been paid by his lodgers. They wanted to know how many, from when and how could they have earned so much. Earning almost 800,000 Euros from people staying in your house was indeed a lot of money.
On May 9, Saglio, president of the commission, did not accept Saunière’s explanations, specifically not on the invoices that had to account for 150,000 francs of his expenses. Saglio could simply not believe that Saunière would not retain these invoices.
On May 14, Saunière replied, saying he was not prepared to submit to further interrogation. On May 27, there was a new attempt of the commission. On June 2, Saunière replied. He felt that he was being treated like a prospective bankrupt and was at pains to assure the commission that he was fully solvent and not about to embarrass the diocese with an imminent financial scandal. But the underlining point of the commission as to why they wanted to know, was that Saunière received this money as one of the bishop’s employees, not as a private person. Still, Saunière obviously felt he was not – or ever was – one of the bishop’s subordinates. He felt that it was his right – if not his right alone – to dispense of the money he received.

Another attempt for further detail was sent off on June 14. Saunière replied on June 20 and repeated his previous assurances about his financial soundness as confirmed by the certificate of the mortgage registry, which is all they need to know. Yet another request for details occured on July 7, and Saunière providesdsome of these on July 14. He declared the total cost of the building of the Villa Bethania to be 90,000 francs. He argued that the work began in 1901, completed 1903, but that the entire estate was in the name of Denarnaud. This, finally, it seems, was a stick the commission could use to beat Saunière with. There were no further requests for more detail; the commission began to write its report.

The final verdict

On October 4, the report of the commission went to the bishop. It stated that they have been unable to obtain the information Saunière was asked to provide. Only 36,000 out of 193,000 francs was accounted for. The remaining 150,000 francs was accounted for only by a list of 7 items, with the corresponding figures unsupported by any documents. They feel this was inadequate – if not a sham, though of course the commission would not say such a thing. They did argue that Saunière seemed to think that he had only to establish that he was not in debt, not understanding that it was his method of accounting that was being examined. Finally, the commission stated that it did not go to Rennes-le-Château, to confront Saunière, as they felt this would be a waste of time.

With the commission’s report finalised, a new summons was prepared on October 30, 1911. Saunière was asked to appear in front of the bishop on November 21, to finalise the avoided sentence of November 5, 1910, count 2, i.e. further information on his accounts.
The verdict was that Saunière decided the use of the funds he received personally, rather than through the bishop’s office. Furthermore, Saunière used some of the money for the Villa Bethania. This land was in the ownership of Denarnaud. As a consequence, he built on land that did not belong to him or the Church, and hence the buildings did not belong to him… or the Church. This was deemed to be a serious problem, for the money had come from the diocese, yet had gone to enrich a private individual, with no apparent benefit to the larger community.

On December 5, the court held its session, with neither Saunière or his representative showing up. Saunière was declared contumacious (stubbornly disobedient; persistently, wilfully, or overtly defiant of authority) and judged as such.
It is stated that 36,000 out of 200,000 francs had been spent on the church and Calvary; the rest had been spent on costly constructions with no useful purpose, on land that did not belong to him or were not even built in his name. He was found guilty of wastefulness and misuse of funds in his care. He was sentenced to a three month’s suspension a divinis, but indefinitely until he returned the goods to the Church. The sentence was without appeal.

The bishop’s sentence was only valid for six months. Then Saunière made an appeal to Rome via Huguet. The Congregation at Rome delivered their judgment in October 1915; the bishop then lifted his suspension, but Saunière was never reinstated. He died 15 months later, on January 22, the day in 1909 he was supposed to become the new parish priest of Coustouges.

A new perspective

In conclusion, Saunière was found guilty of negligence and contempt, but cleared of the latter by the intervention of Rome. For the first, he did do his retreat, as ordered by the bishop. He was not, as some argue, found guilty of trafficking in masses and no-one at the time believed that the majority of his income came from trafficking in masses. What everyone did want to know and Saunière no-one wanted to tell was where the money had come from. Was it merely because our priest was so obstinate and hated de Beauséjour so much that he wished to defy him at all cost? Perhaps and it should not ruled out. Still, it is clear, as we now know, that Saunière had detailed accounts, both of his income and his expenses. His so-called “carnets” have been the subject of detailed analysis since they were discovered some decades ago. Though they do not list every single item of his income and expenses, they were exactly the type of information the commission was interested in. So why did Saunière not want to hand over these documents to the commission? Was it obstinacy, or was there something in the booklets that he did not want to reveal? Or did he realise that if he was to show the booklets, the commission would only take it one step further, and begin to question why those people gave him money?
The latter seems to be the most logical conclusion: Saunière protected his sponsors; he did not want to reveal why they were offering him large amounts of money. It is clear that it was not for officiating masses; the sums far exceed what Saunière asked for those. But why were they giving Saunière money? What was it that he did for them in return? That is a question that may have been at the origin of the trial and the interest of de Beauséjour.
Though de Beauséjour had a case that his bishopric had been left out of 2.5 million Euros because Saunière did with the money what he pleased, de Beauséjour equally realised that Saunière got the money for a reason that the bishop could not figure out. And if the bishop had figured it out, it is most likely because someone had been telling him of people giving large amounts of money to Saunière. Perhaps they even told him what it was that Saunière was doing for his sponsors. If so, then the bishop may have known the truth, rather than try to fish for the truth by bringing Saunière to court. As any lawyer will tell you, the court is not for establishing the truth… and in the case of Saunière’s trials, the final verdict hinged on what may very well be a false premise: that Saunière received the money in his capacity as a priest, not as an individual. Indeed, did Saunière not state that it was his money – not that of the diocese? Still, the central question remains: what did Saunière do for his sponsors?

It is a question that no-one has been able to satisfactorily answer. However, if you make comparisons to religious networks today, the best comparison is actually that of followers of religious cults, who give massive amounts of money for the creation and maintenance of their domains and leaders. Though Saunière was apparently not surrounded by such a cult, he did build the Villa Bethania as a future retreat for retired priests. And whereas cult leaders are notorious for their womanizing, so, it seems, the one “secret” that everyone in the village knew, was that Saunière “liked women”.

A far older mystery

Several promoters of the mystery of Saunière have identified 1891 and the fortuitous discovery of some parchments somewhere in his church as the start of Saunière’s building programs. But that is not true. In truth, he began his campaign in 1886, ending it with the completion of the Villa Bethania.

On July 1, 1886, Saunière was reinstated as priest of Rennes-le-Château, arriving in the village with a donation of 3000 francs (45,000 Euro) in his pocket by the countess of Chambord, the widow of the legitimate claimant to the throne. His salary was reinstated, at 900 francs per annum.
From October 1890 to September 1891, Saunière spent 26,661.50 francs. With an annual stipend of 900 francs, and him receiving 528.50 francs for saying masses and borrowing 500 francs from parishioners, we can only wonder where the rest came from.
The mystery of Saunière, in short, begins at least a year before the accepted beginning of the mystery. Instead, it seems clear that during his one year “exile” in Narbonne, he befriended and acquired some wealthy sponsors, or was able to tap into a network of money trafficking, which he could direct towards Rennes-le-Château.

A final spending spree

From ca. 1905 to 1915, Saunière seems to have had no access to funds. His bank account was overdrawn. It is even stated that he tried to sell the Villa Bethania, but could not find a buyer. Though in the 21st century we would immediately suspect that his lawyer was so expensive that he ran into financial problems, this was not the situation at that time. Some have argued that Saunière’s problems arose because of the ill-health and then the death of his brother Alfred, who had, in the past, been a major channel through which “charitable donations” arrived at Saunière’s doorstep. However, the most likely explanation is the most obvious one: the presence of de Beauséjour. From the commencement of the enquiry and ensuing trial, Saunière was not only carefully monitored, he had also promised to stop any trafficking in masses that was going on. Even though the masses did not – and could not – explain the total origin of his wealth, the eyes of Big Bishop watching him must have scared him. This mixture of loss of income (trial & the death of Alfred) plus the knowledge that prying eyes were – or could be – watching his every move seemed to spell ill tidings for the Saunière household.

The Villa Bethania’s building works ended in 1907 and in the following years, Saunière, for the first time in his life, did not have anything built – confirmation that he had to carefully manage his money – and seemed to have lost part of his income. It introduced a novel episode into the life of a man who seemed to have constantly builders on the premises.
But then, in 1915, as soon as the trial was over, he made new plans:
- he wanted to build a road from Couiza because he wanted to buy a car;
- he wanted to have running water in the village;
- he also wanted to build a chapel in the churchyard;
- a wall around the village;
- a 50m high tower so he could see who entered the village;
- a new library and he wanted to raise the first tower, the Tour Magdala, and the glasshouse.
Others argue he also wanted an outside baptismal pool. According to Noel Corbu, the whole project of works would have cost 8 million franc, or an astonishing 120 million Euros/dollars (ca. 80 million pounds). Still according to Corbu, Saunière placed the order on January 5, 1917 – 17 days before his death on the 22nd.

A problem

The money required to do even parts of this building work is staggering – and the most stupendous question of all is how Saunière even thought he would see it all accomplished.
But what is clear is that from 1915-6 onwards, Saunière suddenly seems to have money available again. How? His brother Alfred was obviously still dead and it seems logically unlikely that his benefactors would, after a ten year hiatus, recommence their donations. Though Saunière was no longer a member of the clergy, and thus de Beauséjour could no longer touch him, at the same time, that meant that Saunière could no longer say any masses either – at least not “valid” ones. And such solicitation for masses (via e.g. advertisements) would bring him into trouble too. So where did the promise of money come from?
Furthermore, Saunière was practically an invalid: the toll of his unhealthy lifestyle, mainly due to excessive consumption of alcohol. There were large periods of times when he was confined to bed, sometimes up to a week. So any digging or exploration or even descending in subterranean passages underneath his estate must be excluded. He could no longer travel, except one trip to Lourdes, made in 1916, which is not an arduous journey – and which he may have done with some company to help him along.
In short, Saunière’s new source of income must have been “easy money”: a donation from a new sponsor, though with apparently no services in return rendered, is possible, as he knew many rich and influential people – but it seems unlikely. And 120 million Euro? There’s a difference between helping a friend out and …

So what relined Saunière’s purse? And what was it that seemingly guaranteed he would have income in early 1917, when he placed the orders for the works?
It remained a mystery – so major that few have addressed it. For those who believed that Saunière’s wealth was related to trafficking in masses, this new episode in his life does not fit. For them and any other sceptic, the promise of 8 million francs is seen as a “dream” and a “fantasy” on his behalf. Yet, that logic should also apply to his previous building works, which were accomplished: how could a village priest build the Villa, the Tour, buy this and that, live so excessively, have so much money, etc. Logic and his known sources of income say it is impossible and if he had not done it, no-one would have believed he could have done it. So calling his new project a fantasy, when we know he signed the orders in early January 1917, simply does not wash.

A model answer

A clue – and in our opinion the answer – what it was that would make him so wealthy was thrown in André Douzet’s lap in the 1990s: a landscape executed in plaster, to be executed in bronze, found in a foundry, an order placed by Saunière in 1916, but never finalised as after what appears to have been a final round of modifications, the foundry learned that Saunière had died; the plaster model was placed on a shelf – from where it eventually got sold, and then sold again to Douzet.
The model meets all of the requirements to answer in this enigma. First, the timeframe: the model was practically finished at a time when Saunière signed the order for the works to be carried out. It suggests that the model would be handed to someone or some group, in return for hard cash. Also, the “hope of new money” and the start of the realisation of the model, roughly a year before, coincide.
Second, the manner: for the creation of the model, Saunière corresponded with the foundry. This can hardly be described as intense work. It involved sending references on maps, what type of inscriptions were required, how this, how that. Even if immobilised in bed, he could still write such letters – and we know he did. The hard work was done by the foundry.

Priest number two: Louis de Coma

Saunière is not the only priest who went on a building spree in the South of France. Louis de Coma was a very wealthy person. Like Saunière, he wanted to channel this into building works, to convert an estate he had bought somewhat outside of the town of Foix, an estate known as Carol, into a religious centre. His elder brother, Ferdinand, was a well-known architect and thus the ideal candidate to draw the plans for the new centre.
Building work began in 1856, just after the return of Louis to the family domain. The church his brother had planned, looks remarkably similar to that of Lourdes, even though at the time, Bernadette had not yet seen the manifestation of the Virgin Mary there – and the church did not yet exist. This suggests that the design of Lourdes was actually inspired on the church of Carol, an impressive feat for an unknown priest. The design and execution of the church incorporated a crypt, which was designed to house the entire family line. On the opposite side of the church was a grotto, an artificial cave in which a statue of Mary Magdalene had been placed. To make the grotto more realistic, stalactites and stalagmites from nearby natural caves were purchased for insertion into the artificial structure. They remain in place to this day…

The Stations of the Cross began right next to the grotto, gently up the slope of the hill. This was a major deviation from standard practice. Whereas most stations of the cross in churches are simple wooden depictions of the perils of Jesus, de Coma built massive stone structures, the remains of many of which can still be seen standing along the path that climbs towards the top of the hill. Next to the church, there was room for a monastery or a nunnery, with the hope that soon, a religious community would occupy the buildings.
As could be expected, the building works were not randomly designed. The church, the grotto, the Calvary and the church of Mary Magdalene in the village were all intended to be aligned, roughly north-northeast. The entire work was to depict “Gethsemane”, the garden of the Mount of Olives, which was the area where the Passion of Christ had occurred. Jesus takes his disciples to this area shortly before he is arrested. He asks his disciples to pray; it is the location where Judas will betray him. It is, of course, also the area that is depicted on Saunière’s model.

To make the area in the South of France resemble Palestine, de Coma ordered that trees and other plants were planted that could be found in Palestine. Unfortunately, they were ill-equipped for the hard winters of the French climate and soon died a premature death. Perhaps it was the first ill omen of the tough times that would come.
Though de Coma had built his church, it would was not – or ever would be – dedicated. When the Jesuits were disbanded in France in 1879, de Coma was faced with the question either to flee France and show his allegiance to the order, or stay and abandon his religious alliance. It were his religious superiors who advised him to abandon the Jesuit order and to continue to concentrate on finalising his building works.

De Coma completed his building works in 1885, to plan; he even found certain monks from the Holy Ghost Community that agreed to settle in his monastery. In 1885, their leader, Antoine Decressol, signed the contract with de Coma regards the ownership of Carol. The deeds stated that de Coma was allowed to live and take care of the buildings, but that he would not have any other powers over the life of the community. It should therefore come as no surprise to see that de Coma would never sign certain parts of the contract, a resilience which greatly angered Decressol. When de Coma had left on a pilgrimage to Lourdes in 1886, Decressol and his men vacated their rooms and abandoned the premises.

For de Coma, it signalled the decline of his standing, though in 1890 he nevertheless still succeeded to become the priest of the Magdalene church at nearby Baulou. Louis de Coma was now an old man (68 in 1890), a curiosity surrounded by a creation of his own making… a lone man, in a very large building, in a very small place. It is said that the controversy affected his mind: that he was seen walking around in the clothes of his dead mother. Still, his domain became the refuge of several priests on the run, when the Church and State were officially separated in 1904. By 1907, the 85-year old de Coma was no longer the priest of Baulou; on November 14, 1911, his dead, 89-year old body, was found in his bed.

Saunière never saw his dream realised: to see the Villa open as a retirement home for priests. De Coma never saw his dream for Gethsemane realised either. Saunière had signed over his estate to Marie Denarnaud during his lifetime. De Coma died without a will, which meant that the entire estate became the possession of the bishop. Nothing happened to the estate, until one of his successors sold the entire estate to the Baures family in 1956. The conditions of sale, however, detailed that the entire infrastructure had to be levelled with the ground. Why? The bishop gave the reason “so that no religious sect would settle there.” It is, to say the least, bizarre.

Whereas so far the mystery of de Coma would be of extravaganza but nothing more, the first question needs to be why any sect would want to settle there. Nothing at first sight would suggest a prime reason why “religious nutcases” would settle in the domain.
Though it is true that between 1911 and 1956, the estates had been used for a multitude of purposes, nothing extreme had ever occurred. It had housed soldiers that were on the run, local youths who used the church as an ideal party venue, and unfortunately also certain people who had entered the crypt to destroy the tombs of the deceased. Though unfortunate, it is clear that nothing of the kind would have occurred if the domain had been inhabited. And nothing along the lines of a cult…

Despite the strange request, Henri Baures decided to grant the bishop his will. However, the first attempt at destruction with dynamite only rocked the statues. At the second attempt, with much more dynamite installed, when the entire village was covered in snow, the church was demolished; the Stations of the Cross leading up the hill were also destroyed.

Though little remains, the total scope of the work is still easily visible. It should not come as a surprise that rumours have been aired that there must be a relationship between de Coma and Saunière. It must be said that their careers are similar, though de Coma would never become the subject of such controversy or interest as his colleague. Saunière became village priest in 1885, at a time when De Coma was winding his building works down.
Did they ever meet? It is hard to say and the evidence suggests they did not – though absence of evidence, is never evidence of absence. There are definite parallels: both were village priests of a church dedicated to Mary Magdalene. More importantly, both received money from the Count de Chambord: de Coma received 4000 French Francs, Saunière 3000. De Coma named his estate Gethsemane, Saunière his Bethany.
The strangest parallel is that Saunière’s enigma became known to the general public in 1956, the year when the bishop of Pamiers ordered the destruction of de Coma’s legacy. Coincidence, or design?

Faced with such parallels, the question needs to be asked whether both priests were part of a “movement”. If they were, what kind of movement?

One cult?

The bishop of Pamiers was obviously afraid that a cult would settle in De Coma’s estate. It occurred at a time when the estate of Saunière became the focus of a series of articles and the mystery of the village priest began to generate first local, than national and eventually global interest.
The concerns of the bishop seem highly prophetic and in retrospect well-founded, for according to hotelier Jean-Luc Robin, in 2000, members of the Order of the Solar Temple tried to purchase Saunière’s Villa Bethania. The cult had become world-headline news themselves in 1994, when a series of collective suicides of certain of their members occurred in Canada, Switzerland and France.

Is it a coincidence that in 1952, the Sovereign Order of the Solar Temple, the predecessor of the Order of the Solar Temple, was created? Is it a coincidence that one of the principle investigators of the Rennes-le-Château mystery, Jean-Luc Chaumeil, became an expert for the judge tasked with the investigation of the cult’s suicide in France?

Remarkably, one aspect neither the Swiss, Canadian or French enquiry ever addressed was the alleged transfer of 600 million dollar to Australian bank accounts, shortly before the collective suicide of some members of this cult. Members of the investigative teams have tried to claim that in truth, it was only 6 million dollar, but they have been unable to back up this statement. But several commentators, including the French journalist Maurice Fusier, have convincingly argued that this cannot be the case… and even for such a “smaller amount”, the investigators should have carried out the required.

In his manuscript on the investigation into the Order of the Solar Temple, Chaumeil calls such “cults” and their wealthy supporters the “Financiers of the Grail”. Indeed, the question needs to be asked whether it is not so much the quest for the Holy Grail, but perhaps the sale or acquisition of the Grail. Or perhaps it is not so much the acquisition of the Grail itself that these people are hoping for, but instead buying certain knowledge, such as the location of where the Grail is. If that is the case, then all of sudden, we have a logical framework in which Saunière’s model, which has the name of Joseph of Arimathea, a figure popularly identified with the Holy Grail, written on it. 600 million dollars equals roughly 300 million Euros. Compared to Saunière’s expectation to receive at least 120 million Euros, it is clear that we are talking about the same league of money…