The Promise of Fifteen Days

First Book - Part 16
 
The repairs of M. de Lafitte’s mill had been completed, and the mill-stream restored to its usual channel, so that it was impossible to reach their place of destination by Ile du Chalet, as had been the case on the former occasion. It was necessary to scale the side of the Espélugnes, taking a miserable road which led to the forest of Lourdes, and then descend by a breakneck path to the Grotto, in the midst of the rocks and steep and sandy declivity of Massabielle.

Bernadette’s companions were somewhat afraid on meeting these unexpected difficulties. She herself, on the contrary, on reaching the place felt her heart thrill, and was impatient to arrive at the Grotto. It seemed to her as if some invisible being bore her along and lent her unwonted energy. Though usually so frail, she felt herself strong at that moment. Her step became so rapid in ascending the hill, that Antoinette and Madame Millet, strong and young as they were, experienced some difficulty in following her. Her asthma which usually obliged her to walk slowly, seemed for the moment to have disappeared. She was neither out of breath nor tired when she reached the summit. While her companions were bathed with perspiration, her visage was calm and tranquil. She descended the rocks, though for the first time in her life, with the same ease and activity, being conscious as it were of some invisible supporter by whom she was guided and sustained. On these almost peaked declivities, in the midst of these rolling stones, on the edge of the abyss, her step was as firm and fearless as if she had been walking on the broad and level surface of a high-road. Madame Millet and Antoinette did not venture to follow her at this, to them, impossible pace, but descended slowly and cautiously, as was indeed necessary in so perilous a path. Bernadette accordingly reached the Grotto a few moments before them. She prostrated herself and commenced to recite her chaplet, gazing at the same time on the niche, festooned with the branches of the wild rose, which was still empty.

All at once she uttered a cry. The well-known brilliancy of the aureola began to shed its rays within the cavern. A voice, which called her, became audible. The marvelous apparition stood there once more a few paces above her. The admirable Virgin inclined her head, all-luminous with eternal serenity, toward the child, and with a motion of her hand signed to her to draw near.

Just at this moment Bernadette’s two companions, Antoinette and Madame Millet, arrived, after having gone through the most painful exertions. They perceived the features of the child to be in a state of ecstatic transfiguration.

She heard and saw them.

“She is there,” she said. “She makes a sign for me to advance.

“Ask her if she is angry at our being with you. Should such be the case, we will retire.”

Bernadette regarded the Virgin, invisible to all save herself, listened for a moment, and turned again toward her companions.

“You may remain,” she answered.

The two women kneeled down by the side of the child and lighted a wax taper which they had brought with them.

It was doubtless the first time since the creation of the world that a light of the kind had shone in this wild spot. This act so simple, which seemed to inaugurate a sanctuary, had in itself a mysterious solemnity.

Under the supposition that the Apparition was divine, this sign of visible adoration, this lowly little flame lighted by two poor country women, would never more be extinguished, but would increase in volume from day to day through the long series of future ages. In vain would the breath of incredulity exhaust itself in efforts, in vain would the storm of persecution arise; this flame, fed by the faith of the people would continue to mount towards the throne of God, steady and inextinguishable. While these rustic hands, doubtless unconscious of the importance of the act, lighted the flame for the first time with so much simplicity in this unknown grotto in which a child was praying, the dawn, first of silvery whiteness, had assumed successively golden and purple tints, and the sun, which despite the clouds, was shortly to inundate the earth with his light, began to appear from behind the crest of the mountains.

Bernadette in an ecstasy of delight contemplated the faultless beauty. Tota pulchra es, amica mea, et macula non est in te.

Her companions addressed themselves to Bernadette afresh.

“Advance towards Her since She calls you and makes signs to you. Approach. Demand from Her who she is, and why She comes here? Is it a soul from Purgatory that entreats for prayers and would have Masses said for it? Beg her to write on this piece of paper what She wishes. We are disposed to do all she desires, all that may be necessary for her repose.”

The youthful Seer took the paper, pen and ink handed to her and advanced toward the Apparition, who seeing her approach encouraged her with a Mother’s glance.

However, at each step which the child took, the Apparition drew back by degrees into the interior of the cavern. Bernadette lost sight of her for a moment and entered under the vault of the grotto from below. There, always above her but much nearer in the opening of the niche, she saw again the radiant Virgin.

Bernadette, holding in her hands the writing materials which had just been given her, stood on tiptoe in order to be able to reach with her tiny arms the height where the supernatural Being was standing.

Her two companions also advanced with the object of trying to hear the conversation about to be engaged in. But Bernadette without turning and apparently in obedience to a gesture of the Apparition, signed to them with her hand not to approach. Covered with confusion they retired a little on one side.

“O Lady,” said the child, “if you have anything to communicate to me, would you have the kindness to inform me in writing who you are and what you desire?”

The divine Virgin smiled at this simple request. Her lips opened and she spoke.

“There is no occasion,” she replied, “to commit to writing what I have to tell you. Only do me the favor to come here every day for fifteen days.”

“I promise you this,” exclaimed Bernadette.

The Virgin smiled anew and made a sign of being satisfied, thereby showing her entire confidence in the word of this poor peasant-girl who was but fourteen years old.

She knew that the little shepherd-girl of Bartrès was like those pure children whose fair heads Jesus loved to caress, saying: “Of such is the kingdom of heaven.”

She also replied to the promise of Bernadette by a solemn engagement.

“And I,” she said, “I promise to render you happy, not in this but in the other world.”

Bernadette, without losing sight of the Apparition, returned to her companions. She remarked that the Virgin while She followed her Herself with Her eyes, suffered Her gaze to remain for upwards of a moment with an expression of kindness on Antoinette Peyret, the unmarried one of the two, who was a member of the Congregation of the Children of Mary. She repeated to them what was passing.

“She is gazing on you at this moment,” said the youthful Seer to Antoinette.

The latter was deeply impressed by these words, and since that time has been living on this souvenir.\

“Ask Her,” said they, “if it would be displeasing to Her if we were to accompany you here every day during the fifteen days?”

Bernadette put the question to the Apparition.

“They may return with you,” replied the Virgin, “and others besides. I desire to see many persons here.”

In saying these words she disappeared, leaving behind her that luminous brightness which had surrounded her, and which itself vanished by degrees. On this as on other occasions the child remarked a peculiarity which seemed to be as it were the law of the aureola with which the Virgin was constantly surrounded.

“When the vision takes place,” she said in her way of speaking, “I see the light first and then the ‘Lady’; when the vision ceases it is the ‘Lady’ that disappears first and the light afterwards.”

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.