1905
He tried to move her hands
A hundred years after that morning a Jesuit of this mission came to see for himself. The village had made a working copy of the statue: wires and rods inside a hollow imitation, so that one pull raised the head, lifted the eyes to heaven, parted the hands and opened the arms, and a second pull put everything back again. “They kindly re-did the miracle for us,” he wrote. It did not go smoothly, and the man working it tangled his strings more than once. Then he went to the statue itself, standing alone in its place of honour above the tabernacle, and put his own hands on it. He tried to straighten the head, to lift the eyelids, to roll the eyes, and above all to separate those two hands carved from a single piece and force the rigid arms apart. Wasted labour. It was the dead resistance of raw matter, of a dried tree-trunk. He gave up what he called his usurped office of inquisitor of the Faith, and he gave it up gladly, and knelt.
In English
“We examine the upper joints, those of the arms, the shoulders and the neck. We try to straighten the head, to raise the eyelids, to make the eyes roll; above all we want to separate those two hands of a single piece, to open those rigid arms… Wasted labour! It is inertia, the resisting force of raw matter, of the dried tree-trunk.”
What this source establishes
The one time anybody put their hands on the statue and said what happened. Dessal, who has just had the village's wire-and-rod replica worked in front of him, tests the figure itself and finds it immovable — hands carved from one block, arms rigid, the dead weight of dried wood — then lays down what he calls his usurped office of inquisitor of the Faith and kneels.