Who Is the Lady?

First Book - Part 15
 
During the first days of the week, many persons of the lower classes came to the house of the Soubirous’ to put questions to Bernadette. The child’s answers were clear and precise. She might possibly be laboring under an illusion, but no one could see her or hear her speak without being convinced of her good faith. Her perfect simplicity, her innocent youth, and the irresistible emphasis of her language, something,—what I know not, in all this,—inspired confidence, and most frequently produced conviction. All those who saw her and conversed with her, were entirely convinced of her veracity, and fully persuaded that something very extraordinary had taken place at the Rocks of Massabielle.

However, the mere declaration of a little ignorant girl could not suffice to establish a fact so entirely out of the ordinary course of things. Stronger proofs were necessary than the word of a child. Besides, what was the nature of this Apparition, even granting its reality? Was it a spirit of light, or an angel from the abyss? Was it not some soul in a state of suffering wandering to and fro and demanding the prayers of others? Or further, such or such a one who had died long ago in the country in the odor of piety, and whose glory was now being made manifest? Faith and superstition—each proposed their hypotheses.

Might it have been the funereal ceremonies of Ash-Wednesday which served to incline a young girl and a lady of Lourdes to one of these solutions? Did the glittering whiteness of the attire of the Apparition suggest to their minds the idea of a shroud and a phantom? We know not. The young girl was called Antoinette Peyret, a member of the Congregation of the Children of Mary; the other was Madame Millet.

“It is doubtless some soul from Purgatory which entreats for Masses,” thought they.

And they went in search of Bernadette.

“Ask this Lady who she is and what she wishes,” said they to her. “Let her explain this to you, or, as you may not be able to understand her well, let her commit it so writing, which would be still better.”

Bernadette, who was strongly urged by some internal impulse to re-visit the Grotto, obtained fresh permission from her parents, and the following morning at about six o’clock, with the break of dawn, after having assisted in the church at the half-past five o’clock Mass, she proceeded in the direction of the Grotto, accompanied by Antoinette Peyret and Madame Millet.

The Story Spreads Through Lourdes

First Book Part XIV

 

On her way back to Lourdes, Bernadette was filled with joy. She pondered in the depth of her soul on these strikingly extraordinary events. Her companions experienced a kind of vague terror. The transfiguration of Bernadette’s countenance had proved to them the reality of a supernatural apparition. Everything that exceeds nature is a source of terror to it. “Depart from us, Lord, lest we should die,” was the exclamation of the Jews in the Old Testament.

“We are afraid, Bernadette. Let us not return here again. Perhaps what you have seen comes to do us harm,” said her timid companions to the youthful Seer.

The children returned, according to promise, in time for Vespers. When the office was over, the fineness of the weather attracted many of the inhabitants to prolong their walk as they chatted together, enjoying the last rays of the sun, so mild in these splendid winter days. The story of the little girls circulated here and there among these various groups. By this means, a rumor of these strange events began to be spread abroad in the town. The report, which at first had only agitated a humble knot of children, grew rapidly in proportion like a wave, and penetrated from one to another into the masses of the population. The quarriers, very numerous in that part of the country, the seamstresses, the artisans, the peasants, the female servants, the nurses, the poorer classes in general, talked of this asserted apparition among themselves—some believing, others disputing it; some only laughing at it, while many exaggerated it. With one or two exceptions, the bourgeoisie did not even take the trouble of thinking for a moment about such childish stories.

Singularly enough, Bernadette’s father and mother, though fully convinced of their child’s sincerity, regarded the Apparition as an illusion.

“She is but a child,” they said. “She fancied she saw something, but she has not seen anything. It is only the imagination of a young girl.”

However, the extraordinary, preciseness of Bernadette’s story puzzled them. At times, carried away by the earnestness of their daughter, they felt themselves shaken in their incredulity. Much as they wished her not to return to the Grotto, they did not venture actually to forbid her doing so. However, she did not return there until the following Thursday.

The Second Apparition

First Book - Part 13

 

The sun rose brightly on the Sunday morning, and the weather was splendid. There are often in the valleys of the Pyrenees, days warm and mild, like those of spring, which seem to have strayed into the lap of winter.

On returning from Mass, Bernadette begged her sister Marie, Jeanne and some other girls, to urge her mother to remove her prohibition and to permit them to re-visit the Rocks of Massabielle.

“Perhaps it is something wicked,” said the children.

Bernadette replied, that she could not believe such to be the case, as she had never seen a countenance of such marvelous goodness.

“At all events,” rejoined the little girls, who, being better educated than the poor shepherd-girl of Bartrès, knew a little of the catechism—“at all events, you must throw some holy water over it. If it is the Devil, he will depart. You shall say to it, if you come on the part of God, approach; if you come from the Devil, depart.”

This was not precisely the formulary for exorcism; but in point of fact these little theologians of Lourdes reasoned on the case with as much prudence and discretion as any Doctor in the Sorbonne.

It was therefore carried in this youthful council, to take some holy water with them. Besides, in consequence of all these conversations, a certain amount of apprehension had entered the mind of Bernadette.

Nothing remained now but to obtain permission. The children demanded this in a body after the mid-day repast. The mother was at first unwilling to grant their request, alleging that as the Gave flowed by and washed the Rocks of Massabielle, their going there might be attended with danger; that the hour of Vespers—which they must on no account miss—was near at hand, and that all this story was childish. But we know how difficult it is to resist the prayers and entreaties of a troop of children. All promised prudence, expedition and good behavior, and the Mother ended by giving way.

The little group proceeded to the Church and devoted a few moments to prayer. One of Bernadette’s companions had brought with her a pint bottle which was duly filled with holy water.

On their first arrival at the Grotto, there was no manifestation of any kind.

“Let us pray,” said Bernadette, “and recite the chaplet.”

The children accordingly kneeled down, and commenced to recite the Rosary.

All at once the countenance of Bernadette appeared to be transfigured, and was so in reality. An extraordinary emotion was depicted on her countenance, and her glance, more brilliant than usual, seemed to inhale a divine light.

The marvelous apparition had just become manifest to her eyes; her feet resting on the rock; and clothed as on the former occasion.

“Look!” she said; “she is there.”

Alas! the sight of the other children was not miraculously released, as was her own, from the veil of flesh which hinders us from distinguishing spiritualized bodies. The little girls perceived naught but the solitary rock and the branches of the wild rose which descended in a thousand wild arabesques to the base of the mysterious niche, in which Bernadette contemplated an unknown Being.

However, the expression of Bernadette’s countenance was of such a nature, as to leave no room for doubt. One of the girls placed the bottle of holy water in the hands of the youthful Seer.

Then Bernadette, remembering the promise she had made, rose, and shaking the little bottle briskly several times, sprinkled the marvelous Lady, who stood, graciously, a few paces in front of her in the interior of the niche.

“If you come on the part of God, approach,” said Bernadette.

At these words and actions of the child, the Virgin bowed several times and advanced almost to the edge of the rock. She appeared to smile at the precautions and hostile weapons of Bernadette, and her countenance lighted up at the sacred name of God.

“If you come on the part of God, draw near,” repeated Bernadette.

But, when she observed her beauty so gloriously brilliant and so resplendent with celestial goodness, she felt her heart fail her at the moment of adding—“If you come on the part of the Devil, depart.” These words which had been dictated to her, appeared monstrous in the presence of this incomparable Being, and they fled forever from her thought without having mounted to her lips.

She prostrated herself afresh and continued to recite the chaplet, to which the Virgin appeared to listen as her own beads glided through her fingers.

At the close of this prayer the Apparition vanished.

The Desire to See the Lady Again

First Book - Part 12

 

Two days, the Wednesday and Thursday passed away. This extraordinary event was never for a moment absent from the thoughts of Bernadette, and formed the constant subject of her conversations with her sister Marie, Jeanne and some other children. The remembrance of the celestial Vision in all its sweetness, was still in the depths of Bernadette’s soul. A passion—if we may use a word so often profaned to designate so pure a sentiment—had sprung up in the heart of the innocent little girl: the ardent desire of again seeing the incomparable Lady. The name of “Lady,” was the one she had given her in her rustic language. However, when any one asked her whether this Apparition bore any resemblance to any lady she might see in the street or in the church, to any one of those celebrated for their exceeding beauty throughout the country, she shook her head and smiled sweetly; “Nothing of all this gives you any idea of it,” she answered. “The beauty she possesses is not to be expressed by language.”

It was, therefore, her great desire to see her once more. The minds of the other children were divided between fear and curiosity.

The Secret of the Vision

First Book - Part 11

 

The scene just recounted had lasted about a quarter of an hour: not that Bernadette was conscious of the exact lapse of time, but she was enabled to compute it by the fact of her having been able to recite the five decades of her chaplet.

Bernadette being completely restored to herself, finished taking off her shoes and stockings, and fording the little stream, rejoined her companions. Absorbed as she was with the thought of what she had just seen, she no longer feared the coldness of the water. All the childish faculties of the humble little girl were concentrated to the end of turning over and over again in her heart the remembrance of this unheard of vision.

Jeanne and Marie had observed her falling on her knees and engaged in prayer; but this, thank God, is not an event of rare occurrence among the children of the Mountain, and being occupied in their task, they had not paid any attention to the circumstance.

Bernadette was surprised at the complete calmness of her sister and Jeanne, who having just then completed their work, had entered the Grotto and had commenced to play as if nothing extraordinary had taken place.

“Have you seen nothing?” asked she. They then remarked that she appeared agitated and excited.

“No,” they replied. “Have you seen anything?”

Whether the youthful Seer feared to profane what so entirely filled her mind, by repeating it, or wished to digest it in silence, or was restrained by some feeling of timidity, it is difficult to say; but she obeyed that seemingly instinctive necessity of humble minds to conceal, as if a treasure, the peculiar graces with which God has favored them.

“If you have seen nothing,” she rejoined, “I have nothing to tell you.”

The little fagots were soon arranged and the three girls started on their return to Lourdes.

Bernadette, however, had not been able to dissimulate the troubled state of her mind. While on the way home, Marie and Jeanne urged her to tell them what she had seen. The little shepherd-girl gave way to their entreaties, having previously exacted a promise of secrecy.

“I have seen,” she said, “something clothed in white;” and she described to them, in the best language she could, her marvelous vision.

“Now you know what I have seen,” she said at the termination of her narration; “but I beg of you not to say anything about it.”

Marie and Jeanne had no doubts on the subject. The soul, in its first purity and innocence, is naturally prone to belief, and doubt is not the fault of simple childhood. Beside, the touching and sincere accents of Bernadette, who was still agitated and deeply impressed by what she had seen, swayed them irresistibly. Marie and Jeanne did not doubt, but they were terrified. The children of the poor are always timid. This may be easily explained, from the fact that suffering reaches them from all quarters.

“It is, perhaps, something to do us harm,” they observed. “Do not let us go there again, Bernadette.”

The confidantes of the little shepherd-girl had scarcely reached home when they found themselves unable to keep the secret any longer. Marie related all the circumstances to her mother.

“It is all nonsense,” said the mother. “What is this your sister tells me?” she continued, interrogating Bernadette.

The latter re-commenced her narration and her mother shrugged her shoulders.

“You are deceived. It was nothing at all. You fancied you saw something and have seen nothing. It is mere folly and nonsense.”

Bernadette persisted in what she had said.

“At all events,” rejoined the mother, “do not go there any more. I forbid you to do so.”

This prohibition weighed heavily on the heart of Bernadette; for since the Apparition had vanished, it had been her greatest wish to see it again. However, she submitted and made no reply.

The Sign of the Cross

First Book - Part 10

 

The child, in the first moment of astonishment, had seized her chaplet, and holding it between her fingers, wished to make the sign of the Cross and carry her hand to her bosom. But she trembled to such a degree that she had not the faculty of raising her arm; it fell powerless on her bended knees.

Nolite timere, “do not fear,” said Jesus to his disciples, when he came to them walking on the waves of the sea of Tiberias.

The fixed gaze, and the smile of the incomparable Virgin, seemed to say the same thing to the little, terrified shepherd-girl.

With a grave and sweet gesture, which had the air of an all-powerful benediction for earth and heaven, she herself made the sign of the Cross, as with the view of re-assuring the child. The hand of Bernadette, raising itself by degrees; as if invisibly lifted by Her who is called the Succor of Christians, made the sacred sign at the same moment.

Ego sum: nolite timere. “It is I, be not afraid,” said Jesus to his disciples.

The child was no longer afraid. Dazzled, fascinated, having nevertheless occasional doubts about herself, and rubbing her eyes, her gaze constantly attracted by this celestial apparition, she humbly recited her chaplet: “I believe in God: Hail, Mary, full of Grace—”

At the moment of her closing it by singing, “Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost,” etc., etc., the Virgin, so radiant with light, all at once disappeared, and doubtless re-entered the eternal Heavens, the abode of the Holy Trinity.

Bernadette experienced the feeling of one descending or falling from a great height. She glanced around her. The Gave was pursuing its murmuring course over the pebbles and broken rocks; but its murmur seemed to her hoarser than before, the waters more sombre, the landscape dull, and the light of the sun even not so clear. Before her were extended the Rocks of Massabielle, beneath which her companions were busily occupied in gathering morsels of wood. Above the Grotto, the niche where the wild rose trailed its branches was always open; but nothing unwonted appeared about it. There remained in it no trace of the divine visit, and it was no longer the Gate of Heaven.

The Lady of the Grotto

First Book - Part 9

 

Above the Grotto, in front of which Marie and Jeanne, eagerly bending to the ground were picking up pieces of dead wood, in the rustic niche formed by the rock, a woman of incomparable splendor stood upright, in the midst of a superhuman brightness.

The ineffable light which floated around her neither pained nor distressed the eyes, as does the brilliancy of sunshine. Far from this being the case, this aureole, intense as a pencil of rays, and calm as a profundity of shade, invincibly attracted the gaze, which seemed to bathe itself in it and rest on it with exquisite delight! It was, like the morning star, light combined with coolness. There was, in addition to this, nothing vague or vaporous in the Apparition herself. She had not the transitory form of a fantastic vision, she was a living reality, a human body which the eye pronounced palpable, like the flesh of us all, and which only differed from an ordinary person by its aureole and its divine beauty.

She was of middle height. She appeared to be quite young, and had the grace of the age of twenty years. But, without losing aught of its tender delicacy, this lustre, so fleeting in time, had in her the stamp of eternity, Further, in her features so divinely marked, there were mingled in some sort, but without disturbing their harmony, the successive and distinct beauties of the four seasons of human life. The innocent candor of the Child, the absolute purity of the Virgin, the tender seriousness of the highest of Maternities, and Wisdom superior to that of all accumulated ages, were summed up and melted into each other, without injuring the effect of each in this marvelous countenance of youthful womanhood. To what can we compare it in this fallen world, where the rays of the beautiful are scattered, broken and tarnished, and where they never appear to us without some impure admixture? Any image, any comparison would be a degradation of this unutterable type. No majesty existing in the universe, no distinction of this world, no simplicity here below, could convey any idea of it or assist us to comprehend it better. It is not with earthly lamps that we can render visible, and, so to say, light up the stars of heaven.

Even the regularity and the ideal purity of these features, in which nothing clashed, shields them from any attempt at description. Need we however say, that the oval curve of the countenance was infinitely graceful; that the eyes were blue and so sweet that they seemed to melt the heart of every one upon whom they turned their gaze? The lips breathed forth divine goodness and kindness. The brow seemed to contain supreme wisdom, that is to say, the union of omniscience with boundless virtue.

Her garments of an unknown texture, and doubtless woven in the mysterious loom which furnishes attire for the lilies of the valley, were white as the stainless mountain snow, and more magnificent in their simplicity than the gorgeous robe of Solomon in all his glory. Her robe, long and training, falling in chaste folds around her, suffered her feet to appear reposing on the rock, and lightly pressing the branches of the wild rose which trailed there. On each of them in their virgin nudity there expanded the mystic rose of a bright, golden color.

In front, a girdle—blue as the heavens—was knotted half-way round her body and fell in two long bands reaching within a short distance of her feet. Behind, a white veil fixed around her head and enveloping in its ample folds, her shoulders and the upper part of her arms, descended as far as the hem of her robe.

She wore neither rings, nor necklace, nor diadem, nor jewels of any description; none of those ornaments with which human vanity has decorated itself in all ages. A chaplet, with beads as white as drops of milk strung on a chain of the golden hue of harvest, hung from her hands, which were fervently clasped. The beads of the chaplet glided one after the other through her fingers. The lips however of this Queen of Virgins, remained motionless. Instead of reciting the rosary, she was perhaps listening in her own heart to the eternal echo of the Angelic Salutation, and to the vast murmur of the invocations coming from the earth.

She was silent; but later her own words, and the miraculous events which we shall have to recount, plainly testified that She was the Immaculate Virgin, the most august and holy Mary, mother of God.

This marvelous apparition gazed on Bernadette, who, in the first shock of amazement, had, as we have already said, sunk down, and without assigning any reason to herself, had suddenly prostrated herself on her knees.