Biography of Sister Geneviève of the Holy Face

1. Life in the world with Thérèse

Céline Martin, in religion Sister Geneviève of the Holy Face, entered into Thérèse’s wake as the “sweet echo of her soul”. She was at the same time his sister, his disciple, his witness. Her merit was to have believed in Merciful Love, to have been the first to follow the “little Way”. Through her life punctuated by struggles, through her death, which was authentically holy, she gives proof of what God does in a heart which, despite, or better, even because of its weaknesses, surrenders to him as a child. The example is worth remembering.

To paint his portrait and sketch his work, there is no shortage of documents. We benefit from the immense research effort provoked by Teresian glory. We also have a autobiographical summary requested in 1909 from Sister Geneviève by the Prioress of the time, Mother Marie-Ange of the Child Jesus. Its original title was: Story of a brand torn from the fire, for which Mother Agnès of Jesus, knowing that it was only a question, after all, of battles and trials, in the midst of an innocence that had remained intact, substituted a less provocative formula: Story of a Little Soul who went through a furnace.

Marie-Céline Martin was born, rue du Pont-Neuf in Alençon, on April 28, 1869, the seventh child of a household that would have nine, five of whom would survive. Founded on the very day of her birth—the use of time permitted it—the complementary rites of baptism were administered to her on the following September 5th. Detecting in her the symptoms of the evil which had robbed her of her two young boys, the mother worries; she places her in foster care for a few months.

The little one will remain frail, but with an astonishing vitality. She becomes passionately attached to her father. We find her “clever as a little devil” and already voluntary. “Enco! Enco! she says when we take her first steps. A negligent little girl having slapped her, she throws a tantrum. It is no use appealing to the love of Jesus: “What does it matter to him, that, to the good Jesus? He is indeed the Master, but I too am the mistress. It takes the calm of the night to bring him to forgive and to say: "I like the poor now."

It is true that the servant Louise, who reproaches herself for having surrounded Hélène too little, has taken Céline under her protection. If the parents hadn't put a stop to it, she would have promptly spoiled her. In truth, she was, as M. Martin de Thérèse would say, "a pretty bit of a girl," with her clearly defined features, her eyes of astonishing liveliness, and that decided je ne sais quoi which emanated from all her person, enveloped however in a real sweetness. In the middle of the street, passing with Louise in front of a soldiers' post, she does not hesitate to shout out loud, like a profession of faith: "I will be a nun." »

She wakes up intensely, already curious about everything, multiplying the “Why?” ". Later she herself would discern “in the budding aptitudes of little Céline, two tendencies: one is an insatiable need for life and happiness, more than her nature can contain; the other, a very great tenderness of heart. » — “It is easy,” she concluded modestly, “to predict whether, with similar arrangements, the balance will be easy to maintain. » Ms. Martin will be more optimistic. In the letters she addresses to her sister-in-law or to Pauline, her resident at Le Mans, she draws this exquisite miniature of the child: “How cute she is! I never had one like it attached to me; however keen her desire to do something may be, if I tell her that it pains me, she stops at the very moment. » — “My little Céline is completely inclined to virtue, it is the intimate feeling of her being, she has a candid soul and has a horror of evil. I believe that this child will give me a lot of consolation; she has an elite nature. She shows the best dispositions, she will be a very pious child; it is very rare to show, at one's age, such inclinations towards piety. »

“She talks like a magpie, she is charming and witty... She learns everything she wants; her sisters only have to sing a little song four or five times, we hear Céline repeat it in the same tone, but as soon as she realizes that we are listening to her, she stops. » — “She is very intelligent, she learned all her letters in two weeks. » — “She takes care of her things like few children, and she prefers not to use them than to expose them to being broken. » — “In a short time, she knows a catechism lesson by heart, or a point of Holy History, and yet she doesn't give it too much trouble. »

The strong-willed personality already shines through under the smile. Witness this trait picked from the Memories of Sister Geneviève: “I might have been three or four years old, when I was walking in the countryside in a delicious place dotted with spring flowers, I stopped in front of one of them, more beautiful than all the others. Only, around its elegant stem was coiled a small snake, which turned its venomous head towards me. To give up the flower for so little was not in my character, which never knew how to calculate with obstacles, and I was already preparing to pick it, when a loud cry made me step back. Someone had seen me and, taking me in his arms, was taking me away from danger. »

The birth of Thérèse gives Céline a companion four years younger than her, and who will become her inseparable friend. We now live on rue Saint-Blaise. Together, we play under the arbor, we count the “practices”: what intrigues the neighbors, unaware that this word designates acts of virtue; we're going to play with Jenny, the Prefect's daughter, whose Hôtel Louis XIII, preceded by a huge courtyard, occupies the other side of the street. When Marie, the eldest of the family, gives her sister her first lessons, the youngest is keen to attend; There are only incidents, which are quickly calmed down, when Céline reproaches him for doing all the wishes of his dolls.

The mother again notes this fundamental harmony and her rare inter-acts: “Here is Céline having fun with the little one at the game of cubes, they argue from time to time, Céline gives in to have a pearl on her crown. » — “The two of them are enough to keep them from boredom; every day, as soon as they have dinner, Céline goes to have her little rooster; she suddenly grabs hold of Thérèse; I cannot overcome it, but it is so lively that with the first leap it holds it; then they both arrive with their animals to sit by the fire and have fun for a long time. » — “We're like two little hens, we can't separate,” cries Thérèse, when she hugs her sister in bed. — “You can't see two children loving each other better,” concludes Mrs. Martin; when Marie comes to pick up Céline for her class, poor Thérèse is all in tears. Alas! what will become of her, her girlfriend is leaving. »

The Saint herself will evoke this union. “I remember that indeed I couldn't stay without Céline, I preferred to leave the table before I had finished my dessert than not to follow her as soon as she got up. Unable to accompany her to mass, she rushed to her on her return and asked her for holy bread, or, failing that, begged her to make some herself, with a great sign of the cross.

Education, received in this environment where faith commands everything, tends to form characters and convictions. Parents live only for God, have in view only the accomplishment of his will. They conceive of authority as a service, which consists in directing towards the good the souls entrusted to them. By example, even more than by words, they initiate into virtue and piety, knowing how to repress deviations, inspire generosity and give charm to the most austere lessons. It cannot be indifferent to these observers and imitators who are essentially young children, to see that the beings they cherish most attend Mass every day, strictly observe the abstinence and fasts prescribed by ecclesiastical laws, sanctify Sunday with inviolable fidelity, supernaturalize the duty of state, venerate priests, attend parish offices and preside over the different rites of the family liturgy; morning and evening prayer, Benedicite and Graces, exercises of the month of Mary. Charity constitutes the common soul of the home. It adorns itself with good humor and flourishes in evenings, outings, collective recreations, of which the cloister alone will erase the nostalgia.

Sister Geneviève will appreciate such a favor: “I consider it the greatest grace of my life, that of having had Christian parents, and of having received from them a virile education, which left no room for the pettiness of the vanity. In our country, I have never seen human respect sacrificed. There was no altar erected to God alone, and if sometimes the sacrifices may have seemed austere, the hour always struck when I tasted their pleasant odor. »

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The death of Mrs. Martin, on August 28, 1877, upset this young happiness. “It’s you who will be a mother,” Céline says to Marie, while Thérèse turns to Pauline. In truth, she will exercise spiritual motherhood over both, the eldest taking charge of the house. We emigrate to Lisieux, to stay with Uncle Guérin, in the gracious cottage of Buissonnets. Life resumes, intimate and warm, but a change has occurred in the psychological behavior of the two little girls. “I, so sweet,” Céline testifies, “became an imp full of mischief, while her noble ardor (this is her younger sister) was veiled for a moment under the appearance of excessive shyness and sensitivity. Without the substance being changed, because she was constantly the image of moral strength, and I, of the greatest weakness. »

The union of hearts does not vary. It is touching to see Thérèse, at six years old, testify to her feelings, on tiny squared papers, which together constitute this candid missive where each word swells with inexpressible tenderness:

“My dear little Céline,
I love you very much, you know that.
Farewell, my dear little Céline.
Your little Thérèse who loves you with all her heart.

Therese Martin. »

Céline enters as a half-boarder with the Benedictines of the Abbey. Although placed with older students, she easily rose to the head of the class and kept this rank until the end. The bulletins that have been preserved demonstrate his application. If she has difficulty learning word for word, her researching and reasoning temperament helps her to study everything in depth. Except in arithmetic, she easily wins the first prizes. Not that she strives for academic success on her own. His heart remains in Les Buissonnets. It costs him, in the evening, to tear himself away from the family vigil, to isolate himself in his room, to do his homework. She admits to having sometimes wished for a return of the flood or the irruption, in town, of a rabid dog, because these were the only reasons likely to be kept at home, headaches and toothaches not being valid excuses .

With a mastery that earned her the praise of Mr. Guérin, Pauline prepared the child for his First Communion. She composed for him, as later for Thérèse, a booklet where, under the symbol of flowers, the little girl would count her sacrifices and her pious thoughts. The retreat was most fervent, although the complete boarding school regime seemed cruel to the child, despite visits from Mr. Martin and Thérèse. The ceremony of May 13, 1880 had a profound impact on Céline. “It was,” she wrote, “with ineffable joy that I received my Beloved. I've been waiting for it for a long time. Ah! what things I had to say to him! I asked him to have pity on me, to always protect me and never allow me to offend him, then I gave him my heart without return and promised to be all his... I felt that he deigned to accept me as his little wife and that he would fulfill towards me the office of defender that I had entrusted to him; I felt that he was taking me under his care and would forever protect me from all harm..."

“I remember that I had to recite the Act of Humility and that I was very happy about it 1... In the evening, it was I who recited the Act of Consecration to the Blessed Virgin. Oh ! how happy I was to speak, in the presence of everyone, to give myself irrevocably to my Heavenly Mother, whom I loved with incomparable tenderness. It seems to me that accepting as her own the little orphan who was at her feet, she adopted her for her child..."

“Shortly after my First Communion... I received the sacrament of Confirmation: it was June 4. This day happens to be the Friday of the Feast of the Sacred Heart, I rejoice at this coincidence. It seemed to me that the Heart of Jesus itself would come to replace my heart by giving me its own Spirit. I was deeply moved by the thought that one only received this sacrament once in a lifetime and that it would make me a perfect Christian. » The little girl then lived in anticipation, which seemed interminable to her, for the liturgical feasts where she was authorized to approach the Holy Table again.

In October 1881, when Thérèse took her turn at the Abbey, Céline showed more enthusiasm for studies.

She traveled with her cousin Jeanne Guérin, leaving her younger sister to accompany Marie, until the day the roles were reversed, discussions between the elders sometimes turning sour. It was because Céline had become combative. She herself admits to "having tooth and nail", in the figurative sense, of course, because it was not with the strength of the wrist, it was "with the sword of speech" that she defended her point of view. view, when she thought she was right — and “we are always right on one point,” she explains finely. — She protects her little sister, who prefers to “talk” rather than “run” and is averse to violent games. She herself has sought to overcome her natural shyness, since she was told that it was a fruit of self-esteem. However, she will keep enough not to dare to take the patent.

During recreation, when the class splits into two camps for the small war, Céline intends to be on the side of the French, otherwise she allows herself to be beaten voluntarily. An auxiliary teacher, of English origin, having spoken of Joan of Arc as an "adventurer", a finger was raised to protest, that of our Céline again, who, moreover, went to find the Director of the Boarding School and demanded, on pain of having his father intervene, an observation should be made to the mistress in question. M. Martin was not mistaken when he nicknamed her "the courageous", "the intrepid".

The child nonetheless had a tender heart, eager for consolation. Being weaned from it because it was believed to be virile was always a severe ordeal for him. She experienced it with a lady to whom she was deeply attached. Not seeing herself repaid, she cried bitterly. It was, she later admitted, a visible protection from God, who wanted to keep her for himself alone.

Céline and Thérèse only fully blossomed in Les Buissonnets. The Manuscript ofStory of a soul obligingly recounts their antics, the care lavished on their aviary, the family outings, the Sunday and holiday walks. we saw them, disguised as pilgrims, armed with a stick to defend themselves from the pecks of a black magpie, going around the garden forty times. In preparation for their respective holidays, they bought surprise gifts for ten cents that they gave each other. One day, badly inspired, Céline decided to equip her sister with a pistol, which had the gift of scaring her, and which Mr. Martin gifted to a boy from the neighborhood, not without paying his “little queen”.

"I had been given the title of 'Céline's little girl,' Thérèse tells us in her Autobiography, so when she was angry with me, her greatest mark of displeasure was to say to me: 'You are no longer my little girl, it's over, I'll always remember it!...” Then I just had to cry like a Madeleine, begging her to still look at me as her little daughter; soon she would kiss me and promise to remember nothing more!... To console me she took one of her dolls and said to her: "My darling, kiss your aunt." »

Sometimes, with the children of the Guérin and Maudelonde families, we put on skits, in which poor Céline infallibly had the bad role: which did not fail to humiliate her because the entourage took malicious pleasure in calling her by the name of the sad characters that she embodied on the boards. So she preferred to these parlor games the processions where, dressed in white, she figured next to Therese, the basket of flowers in her hands.

I also loved, little girl,
In front of the twinkling monstrance,
Throw roses, lilies and daffodils high,
Mixing with those of my sister
My flowers.

On the calm life of Les Buissonnets, the departure of Pauline from the cloister, in October 1882, cast a veil of sadness. Céline felt this separation all the more painfully as it was followed quite closely by Thérèse's illness. She shared his anxieties; she was praying at his side and could contemplate his ecstatic face, when the smile of the Virgin healed her. She also witnessed his fervent efforts before his First Communion. It was she who brought her, during her retirement at the Abbey, the image with which she was enchanted: the Flower of the Divine Prisoner.

At the end of the 1885 school year, Céline completed her studies. She leaves the Pension with honour, having won the prize for religious instruction, unique for the whole establishment, and all the more coveted. Received as a child of Marie on December 8, 1882, she subsequently became the President of the Association.

Released from classes, she nevertheless led a very active life. Jeanne Guérin, who marveled at seeing her draw without having received the slightest notion in the matter, had obtained from M. Martin that she take lessons. For two years, Celine had made rapid progress there. The time had come to perfect his talent. It was entrusted to Miss Godard, a pupil of the painter Léon Cogniet. With great tenacity, she will work methodically, alone, in her studio, making a number of copies, seascapes and a few portraits, which will populate her "museum with crusts", as she said, but which were her hand.

Furthermore, Marie, who was preparing her entry into the monastery, introduced her to the management of the house. She gained access to it with ease in October 1886, when the eldest joined Pauline in the cloister, while Léonie attempted a first try with the Poor Clares of Alençon.

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The family circle tightens. Céline and Thérèse are now the only ones surrounding Mr. Martin. They become more than ever soul sisters. Their life is most regulated. “Nothing is left to whim. » In the morning, seven o'clock mass, whatever the weather. If the Chemin des Buissonnets, in case of frost, turns into the ice rink, we wrap our shoes in cloth, but we do not miss the Eucharistic appointment. Studies and housework take up the hours of the day. When there is a party, we organize a treat for the poor children in the neighborhood. If a beggar presents himself, he is introduced, restored, and the young girls kneel to receive his blessing.

The “conversion” of Thérèse, on December 25, 1886, by restoring to her total control of her sensitivity and drying her too easy tears, opened a new period in the relations of the two sisters. The Saint notes this with a finesse not devoid of humor: “Céline had become the intimate confidante of my thoughts; since Christmas we could understand each other, the distance in age no longer existed since I had become great in size and especially in grace... Before that time I often complained of not knowing Céline's secrets, she told me that I was too small, that I would have to grow “to the height of a stool” so that she could have confidence in me... I liked to climb on this precious stool when I was next to her. She and I told him to speak to me intimately, but my industry was useless, a distance still separated us!... Jesus, who wanted to make us move forward together, formed in our hearts bonds stronger than those of blood. He made us become soul sisters..."

Such is the origin of these conversations at the Belvedere, of which the Thérésienne Autobiographie speaks, and which Céline, in her turn, tries to analyze:

"Our union of souls became so intimate that I will not even attempt to depict it in the language of the earth, that would be to deflower it...every evening, 'hands chained to each other', the gazing into the immensity of the Heavens, we spoke of this Life which must not end... Where were we when, losing, so to speak, consciousness of ourselves, our voice died away in the silence?... Where were we then? I wonder.

“Alas! Suddenly we found ourselves on earth, but we were no longer the same, and, as if emerging from a bath of fire, our panting souls only aspired to communicate their flames... O what intoxication!. .. O what martyrdom!

“As Thérèse says, these graces could not remain without fruit, and Jesus was pleased to show her that her desires for the apostolate were pleasing to him through the wonderful conversion of the unfortunate Pranzini. It was even this grace which was the starting point of a more intimate union between us, because it was on this occasion that she discovered, in the heart of her Céline, the germ of the aspirations which devoured hers. »

Allowing for youthful sensitivity, the fact remains that at this time Céline underwent a profound evolution. She wonders about her future. She already learned about the life of the Benedictine nuns. Carmel, without yet attracting him, crosses his mind. Father Pichon's intervention will be decisive in his life. This Jesuit, born in 1843 in Carrouges, near Alençon, came into contact with the Martin family in 1882, following a retreat followed by Marie. Sent two years later to Canada, he returned in September 1886. It was then that Céline had the opportunity to appreciate him during the visits he made to Les Buissonnets. On October 12, 1887, he became its Director of Conscience. Very expansive, feeling a real need to confide, she regularly sent him her soul diary, to which he responded once or twice a year. Obviously, he appreciated his vigorous personality, his uprightness, and even his “theology”, as he called it. He once joked that “she had life for four”. Very austere in himself, to the point of wearing a hair shirt at all times, he preached above all confident devotion to the Sacred Heart and the worship of the Mass. He seems to have had a charisma to channel towards the religious state, which sometimes alienated him from the sympathy of mothers.

Under his influence, Celine felt her orientation strengthen. She had a true, deep, interior piety, knowing how to use trickery if necessary to "steal her God", as she put it. Having, in fact, license to take Communion several days a week, plus holidays, she made a very extensive exegesis of this word over which her confessor, at the time Father Baillon, complacently passed over. Then, when some trip had prevented her from reaching the prescribed number, she compensated afterwards and, finding herself no longer there, always concluded in her favor to increase the permissions.

From this trait, we can guess that she had none of what the world labels as narrow and morose bigotry. Nothing conformist either. Doing like others was never an argument for her. Before going to the Holy Table, she takes off her bracelet, "a sign of servitude", she already believes, while Christ wants free souls. She willingly hums the old song: “Take my heart; here he is, Virgin, my good Mother”, but modulates the passage in a muted way: “It is to rest that he resorts to you. » “What does this sentence mean,” she cries? Me, if I go to Marie, it's because I love her. »

It soon becomes clear that she is made for religious life. Nevertheless, she will step aside in front of Thérèse. Mr. Martin suffered, in May 1887, a slight attack of cerebral congestion. He recovered, but we can't leave him alone. Céline will run the house and, if necessary, be his nurse. She therefore supports with all her affection the efforts of her younger sister who aspires to leave the century at fifteen. “The love of the good Lord was so intense in my poor heart,” she wrote, “that not finding anything that could relieve a little this need to give, I was happy to sacrifice everything I had dearest in the world. .. Like Abraham, I took care of the preparation of the holocaust and I helped my dear sister in all the steps she took to obtain entry into Carmel, despite her great youth. I shared in his sorrows more than if they had been my own. »

The Saint underlines the merit of such self-sacrifice. “It was, so to speak, the same soul that made us live; for a few months we had been enjoying together the sweetest life that young girls could dream of; everything around us responded to our tastes, the greatest freedom was given to us, finally I said that our life on earth was the ideal of happiness... We barely had time to taste this ideal happiness, that one had to turn away from it freely, and my darling Céline did not rebel for an instant. However, it was not her that Jesus called first, so she could have complained... having the same vocation as me, it was up to her to leave!... But as in the time of the martyrs, those who remained in the prison joyfully gave the kiss of peace to their brothers leaving first to fight in the arena and consoled themselves with the thought that perhaps they were reserved for even greater fights, so Céline left her Thérèse went away and remained alone for the glorious and bloody combat to which Jesus destined her as the privileged one of his love!..."

Céline will be on the trip to Rome, and it is she, thanks to the documents collected by her, who will make it possible to establish the origins with certainty. His artistic temperament is moved by the natural wonders accumulated in the landscapes of Switzerland or Italy, the masterpieces which populate the churches and museums of Outremont. She observes with precision the Santa Casa de Loreto; she goes down with her younger sister to the ruins of the Colosseum; she slips close to her at the bottom of the ancient tomb of Saint Cecilia. It is she especially who, during the papal audience, when the pilgrims have just been reminded that they must parade in silence before Leo XIII, encourages her Thérèse with these energetic words: “Speak. » She herself reveals to us the secret of this apparently rebellious attitude: “I have a principle for similar occasions, it is that of following in all respects a resolution made in advance. » In the circumstances, who would think of reproaching him?

She demonstrated the same spirit of decision, on the return, at the Lyon stopover, when an imposing character, adorned with decorations, began the two sisters on their journey to the Eternal City, congratulating them on such a privilege, but slipping in the eulogy a word of irony with regard to the Pope, “powerless old man”. Céline jumped. “It would be desirable, Sir, that you were his age; perhaps you would have his experience at the same time, which would prevent you from talking thoughtlessly about things you don't know. »

During this hike beyond the mountains, the intimacy between Thérèse and Céline was such that their traveling companions said: “These young girls will never be able to separate. » However, it was necessary to arrive at this Monday, April 9, 1888, when the little Queen left her family, after the mass heard together at the Carmel, to join her elders in the cloister. “In giving her the farewell kiss at the door of the monastery,” Céline wrote, “I had to lean unsteadily against the wall... and yet I did not cry, I wanted to give her to Jesus with all my heart, and He , in return, clothed me with his strength. Ah! how much I needed this divine strength! At the moment Thérèse entered the Holy Ark, the closing door which closed between us was the faithful image of what really happened, because a wall had just risen between our two existences. »

The wall did not rise for Thérèse who, on the following May 8, wrote to her sister: “Tomorrow, I will be away from you for a month, but it seems to me that we are not separated, whatever the where we are!... When the ocean separates us, we would remain united, because our desires are the same and our hearts beat together... I'm sure you understand me. » “After all, it doesn't matter whether life is happy or sad, we will nonetheless reach the end of our journey here on earth. » “A Carmelite day spent without suffering is a day wasted; for you, it's the same thing because you are a Carmelite by heart. »

2. Céline’s subsidiary mission

Barely having completed the heartbreaking act that separated her from Thérèse, Céline found herself grappling with an ordeal of a completely different kind: a formal marriage proposal, the logical outcome of maneuvers that the young girl believed she had skillfully foiled. . Without being positively pretty, she had charm, which is better. Of average height, lively like her mother, lively in spirit, quick to repartee, she created around her an atmosphere of joy and enthusiasm. His eyes, of astonishing depth, scrutinized, searched and all at once, attracted with a flash of mischievous kindness. His talents were multiple. A notary said of her to Mr. Martin: “You don't need to give that one a dowry; she carries her fortune at her fingertips. » Obviously, she could not go unnoticed.

The crisis was painful. “This news upset me,” we read in the autobiography, “not because I was undecided about what I had to do, but the divine light, by hiding, delivered me to my own inconsistencies; I constantly said to myself: “Is this offer not made to me just at the moment when Thérèse leaves me an indication of a will of God for me, which I had not foreseen? The Lord was able to allow me to desire religious life until today, so that in the world I could be a strong woman. So many people say that I don't look like a nun! Perhaps, in fact, I am not called to this life by divine Providence. My sisters were never formally asked to choose between the two lives; It’s probably because the good Lord wanted them for himself and he doesn’t want me! Finally, although my resolve never changed, the anxiety grew and grew... I could no longer see clearly. However, I replied, on the off chance that I didn't want to, that I wanted to be quiet for the moment, and not to be expected. »

Céline's confessor, Canon Delatroëtte, parish priest of Saint-Jacques and Superior of the Carmel, did not intervene in this affair. Father Pichon, whom she saw again on the occasion of the Profession of Mary, on May 22, approved and strengthened her resolution. Other concerns were not long in absorbing the young girl. His father presented disturbing awakenings of cerebral arteriosclerosis: amnesia, anxiety, hallucinations, which, although temporary, did not make them fear more serious disorders. During one of his trips to Paris to manage his business, he had just rented a villa in Auteuil. His intention was to allow Céline to perfect her talents as a painter by attending the Academies and taking advantage of the lessons of some master. This is what he proposed to her, on June 15, 1888, when she showed him, at the Belvedere, one of her paintings representing the Virgin and Magdalene. The response was not long in coming. “Without taking time to deliberate,” Céline confides, “I put the painting I was holding in my hand and, approaching my father, I confided to him that, wanting to be a nun, I was not looking for the glory of the century, that, if the good Lord needed my work later on, he would know how to make up for my ignorance. I added that I preferred my innocence to any other advantage and that I did not want to expose it in the workshops. »

Mr. Martin had a presentiment of his daughter's vocation. However, she had never spoken openly about it to him. Very moved, he pressed it to his heart and said: “Come, let us go together to the Blessed Sacrament to thank the good God for the honor he does me by asking me for all my children. » He will say he is ready to accept an immediate separation: “You can all leave. I will be happy to give you to the good Lord before I die. For my old age, a bare cell will be enough for me. »

God would demand more. His health continuing to deteriorate, the old man found himself taken back by his dreams of an eremitic life: fleeing far from his family, into solitude, and allowing his daughters to realize their destiny. Under the influence of these thoughts, he left Lisieux without warning, on June 23, 1888. After three days of anxious research, a telegram, sent from Le Havre and requesting a “poste restente” response, allowed Céline and Mr. Guérin to join him and bring him home. In the meantime, to Léonie's great fear, a fire had destroyed the adjacent house, threatening her beloved home for a moment. Everything is back to normal. Mr. Martin buys the damaged building, to expand the Buissonnets which he plans to acquire. As a family, from July 1st to 15th, we are staying in Auteuil. The diversion does not seem happy; hearts feel uprooted, so far from Carmel; the lease is terminated. Through these adventures and these emotions, the patient appreciates Céline's dedication more and more. He does not hesitate to give her the beautiful copper crucifix that Mary had given him as a souvenir, before her departure for the cloister, and which was particularly close to her heart.

New relapse on August 12, then a few weeks of calm. Father Pichon having to take the liner for Canada, which was assigned to him again as his field of ministry, Mr. Martin wanted to greet him in Le Havre, with his daughters, on October 31. He passed through Honfleur, where he experienced one of his darkest days. Céline seeks protection in the Sanctuary of Our Lady of Grace. She wrote, the same day, to her Carmelites: “No, no words, no expression to repeat our anguish and our heartbreak! I feel powerless. Dear little sisters, my suffering was so acute that, walking along the edge of the quay, I looked longingly at the depth of the water. Ah! If I didn't have faith, I would be capable of anything. » She calms down in the finale, in the love of Christ crucified. “It is not a little cross that he puts on our shoulders, but his own... It is not for us but for him that we work. I find immense consolation in this thought. For him ! Oh ! what we cannot give to him, give to him constantly until the last breath of our life! »

On November 3, M. Martin having recovered sufficiently, and Father Pichon not arriving, our three travelers joined him in the capital. And life began again, cut off by hopes and worries, until January 10, 1889, which saw Thérèse take the Habit and was for her and all her family a cloudless celebration, like "Palm Sunday". before the great Passion.

The month has not ended before the news becomes alarming again. Céline sends to Carmel this note where supernatural optimism wants to keep its rights at all costs: “Beloved little sisters, I remember these words of theImitation : “I will give infinite glory for a passing humiliation…” Oh! the humiliations! it's our everyday bread, but if you knew how much I see hidden in it!... it's a mystery of love for me.

“O my little sisters! don't worry, I beg you; Was it in vain that Thérèse prayed? Was it in vain that I so confidently put oil from the lamp of the Holy Face on Dad's forehead? No, a thousand times no! There are, I am sure, admirable designs that we cannot understand. I feel that Our Lord is so happy when we have unlimited trust in Him, finding all His dispositions well...

“No, I am not going to ask that God take away the humiliations, the contempt, the heartache, the anguish, the bitterness... But I am going to beg the good Lord to take all that away from our dear little father. He can give us this grace and I am sure he will. »

It became more and more clear that the state of health of the man we readily called “the Patriarch” required special care. Prey to congestive attacks, undoubtedly complicated by attacks of uremia, he was subject to phenomena of mental absence which threatened to be accompanied by running away and irresponsible decisions concerning his fortune. Mr. Guérin imposed the departure for the Good Savior of Caen. The young girls had to face the facts of the alleged reasons. The blow was no less cruel. The date of February 12, 1889 — “our great wealth” Thérèse would say, in a thought of faith — was written on Céline's calendar like a day of tears. At that time when treatment in psychiatric establishments was not frequent, it was under a pejorative sign that any transfer of this order was interpreted. The comments that followed added to the humiliation. Some did not hesitate to speak of mystical wanderings and to attribute their origin to these serial vocations inflicted on the helpless father.

To be close to their patient, Céline and Léonie went the very next day to Caen and stayed with the Sisters of Saint-Vincent de Paul. They only have access to their father once a week, but every day they question Sister Costard, who directs the service where he is located.

“The first time, writes Céline, that we saw our dear little Father again, the reaction gave him a few fairly good days. He could then understand the whole situation and generously make his sacrifice. The good Lord allowed it thus to give him all the merit of his ordeal. The Doctors of the establishment told him one day, while lavishing their care on him, that they would cure him, but he answered them: “Oh! I don't want it, I even ask the good God that he doesn't listen to the prayers that are made to him for this intention, because this ordeal is a mercy. It is to expiate my pride that I am here; I have deserved the illness with which I am stricken! The doctors could not believe their ears, and the nun who was telling me about this conversation was still crying, she was so moved. "We have never seen that," she told us; it is a saint that we care for. »

Even in the most painful moments, M. Martin remained completely resigned; he shows around him an unaltered gentleness and charity. He even intends to continue his mortifications, shares with others the treats with which he is showered, and communicates as often as possible. The entourage is moved to see on this venerable forehead the seal of the ordeal.

The cruelest blow for the patient was the clumsy intervention of lawyers who, going beyond the instructions received, made him sign an act renouncing the management of his property. As they covered themselves with the will of the whole family: “Ah! It’s my children who are abandoning me! sobbed the old man. » And he bowed immediately. Sister Geneviève, who relates the event, adds: “I cannot say what this new wound was in my heart... it was the most sensitive. This time, the tip of the sword had reached the last fibers; our souls were pierced through and through. »

In response to letters from Carmel providing encouragement, the young girl sent health reports to Lisieux and confessed her alternations of depression and hope. “At that moment, bitterness invaded my heart, I put everything in the hands of Jesus and he took care of it. How did this happen? I don't know, Jesus came to our rescue. »

Thoughts of eternity, so familiar to her parents, haunt her more than ever. She sees her mother again calling “la Patrie”, to the musical rhythm of the prose of Lamennais. She evokes the chapters of Abbé Arminjon on “the mysteries of the future life”, and the glorious revenge of Christ saying to his friends finally torn from their distress: “Now, my turn! “The further I go,” she wrote on February 27, “the more I see exile everywhere. The world seems to me like a dream, a vast chaos... The more I travel, the more things I see, the more I detach myself from the earth, because at every moment, I notice more the nothingness of what passes. I am in a real cell, nothing pleases me as much as this poverty; I wouldn't trade it for the brightest salon. She confides to Mother Marie de Gonzague that her only happiness is the chapel, where she spends all the time that is not devoted to work, even though she prays tastelessly and sometimes falls asleep at the feet of Jesus.

Accepted suffering is an upward path. Through this harsh apprenticeship, the soul is refined and purified. We sense this through this letter of March 1, 1889:

“Little sisters, I want to congratulate ourselves on our tribulations, do more: thank God for the bitterness of our humiliations. I don't know why, but instead of receiving these trials with bitterness and complaining about them, I see something mysterious and divine in the conduct of Our Lord towards us! Besides, hasn't he himself gone through all the humiliations?... I admit that the opinion of the world weighs nothing on me. Ah! if you knew how I see the good Lord in all our trials! Yes, everything is visibly marked with his divine finger. »

It is in this spirit that the daughters of Mr. Martin had exhibited in the Carmel chapel, under the image of the Holy Face, a marble ex-voto bearing this inscription [1]:

Sit Nomen Domini Benedictum
FM
1888

[1] Later, Sister Geneviève will return with emotion to this offering of a commemorative plaque for the great paternal ordeal. “To the voices that then spoke to us of a 'broken future', responds the Church, which is preparing to place one of us on the altars. We had given a marble ex-voto to God, and we don't have enough room to pick up those addressed to his little Servant, Thérèse of the Child Jesus. »

From March 3, Mr. Guérin insisted that his nieces return to Lisieux. Celine resists. “I feel more and more that my duty is to stay here; yes, it is better to suffer and not abandon our dear little father; at least here, if we can't do anything for him, we feel very close to him, we can come running at the slightest call. However, it had to be recognized that this exodus could not continue indefinitely. The health of the two young girls risked being compromised. On new entreaties from their uncle, they returned to Les Buissonnets on May 14, 1889.

It wasn't for long. On June 7, they boarded with M. Guérin who, following a fine inheritance, had given up his pharmacy and now occupied a vast mansion in rue Paul-Banaston. On December 25, the Buissonnets lease expired. Céline recounts the last visit she made there the day before, picking, in the absence of flowers, “a few ivy leaves... a memory of so many memories”. She speaks melancholy of the dispersal of the furniture, part of it going to the Carmel, Tom, the faithful dog, following behind the car and slipping through a half-open door, to assail Thérèse, all moved, with his tenderness.

*
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We adapt to this new existence. Madame Guérin, who is sweetness incarnate, has a somewhat admiring affection for Céline. With Mr. Guérin, a great Christian, of a magnificent uprightness, but whole and imperious character, the occasions of clashes will not miss, the young girl being the only one who can discuss with him, undoubtedly because she is of the same race. . We love each other no less. It is with the family that we work, that we relax, that we visit the Paris Exhibition, that we go to Lourdes and Spain.

In the morning, after the daily mass where she takes communion in all weathers - which does not fail to worry her aunt's fearful prudence - Céline devotes herself to painting, notably executing paintings for the Carmel: Adoration of the Shepherds , Saint John of the Cross and other themes, as well as small works of art. She also asks children and old people to pose as models, happy to be well paid and surrounded by consideration. The afternoon is devoted to needlework, to the dressing room of the poor, sometimes to the catechism of the deficient or latecomers. The concrete spirit of the young girl, her imagination which illustrates the most abstract lessons with anecdotes, work wonders in this teaching. One of his proteges protests when it is entrusted to other hands. Ten years later, he will come to ask the "good young lady" for the notebook she had made to record her sacrifices for the First Communion, and which, out of childish carelessness, he had omitted to take back.

Céline's agenda also includes reading. It has its large share, and in all fields, from Plato to literary authors, passing through chivalric stories, religious writers and scientific journals. It is a thirst for education that, on the advice of Father Pichon, it will be necessary to moderate somewhat. Photography, electroplating, have their moments of choice. Céline gets her hands on everything. She does not hesitate to dismantle and reassemble, piece by piece, a sewing machine that needs adjustment. She also learns from memory a whole poetic anthology and, in the evening, willingly listens to her uncle declaim selected pieces from the classical repertoire. Self-taught culture that will mark her forever.

She explores the Old Testament, notably the Wisdom Books and the Prophets; she picks a whole series of excerpts which, carefully copied, will fill the 56 folios of a notebook that she has put together. A similar anthology, although more succinct, will also open with verses from the Apocalypse and selected quotations from various spiritual authors.

God remains for her "the Unique Necessity". Not content to delight in beautiful biographies that strengthen her in this conviction, she tackles austere treatises that reveal the secrets of asceticism and lead to the summits of mysticism. Father Surin, Jean de la Croix, Thérèse of Avila, Henri Suzo, Father d'Argentan, served him in turn as mentors.

To remain faithful to the Lord, she must struggle. Witness this retrospective confession that opens his eightieth-year notebook: “I imagine my soul as a fortified castle which was extraordinarily coveted by the enemy. Constantly subject to dangerous attacks, perilous assaults, all-out wars. Certainly, I suffered a lot, but my Jesus, my Divine Knight, faithful to his Lady, fought for me and he won. »

The recently ousted suitor had not given up his arms. Others were on the horizon. Céline could not completely avoid social receptions, which were frequent among the Guérins. The demon getting involved, she was, for more than two years, given over to furious temptations, which particularly tormented the imagination and the mind, and left her no respite. He would sometimes sit on the chest of drawers in his room and grasp the statue of the Virgin who had smiled at Thérèse. She meditated, verse by verse, the beautiful psalm 90 of Compline on Sunday, which sings of the invincible help of the Most High: Qui habitat in adjutorio Altissimi. At certain times, tired and as if tired of herself, she thought she was damned. His health was shaken. Suffering from her stomach and heart, she had to consult Doctor Notta. Father Pichon's letters, although rare, brought him peace. He limits himself, moreover, in general, to ratifying the points of view which she presents to him in all candor, and which betray a very sound judgment. On December 8, 1889, the young girl made a vow of chastity, which she renewed year after year. “It is Jesus alone who has won the victory,” she concludes, each time calm returns to her.

This long interior drama, which contributes to detach her, does not prevent her from being herself, for her young cousin Marie, who is overwhelmed by scruples, the surest of advisers. She urges him to communicate. She helps him in his search for perfection, which inspires some umbrage in the parents, little inclined to encourage the awakening of a vocation, which they will moreover be able to ratify in due time.

The center of attraction for Céline is this Monastery on rue de Livarot, where she aspires to join her sisters. On this subject she is inexhaustible.

“Carmel was everything to me. Every week, I went to soak in it again with my Thérèse. Léonie stood on the right of the gate with Pauline and Marie, me on the left with my little sister. It was only at the end that the conversation became general.

“I couldn’t get enough of receiving advice from my darling Thérèse. I consulted her for everything... What a union of souls there was between us! There I found the family, and my heart warmed by this contact. They were birds of the same nest. We were talking about the dearly absent. It was the same interests that occupied us, the same joys and the same sorrows that made our hearts beat. »

The Thérèse Manuscript makes the same sound. “Oh! far from separating us, the gates of Carmel united our souls more strongly, we had the same thoughts, the same desires, the same love of Jesus and of souls... When Céline and Thérèse spoke to each other, never a word about earthly things did not get involved in their conversations which were already all in Heaven. As before in the belvedere, they dreamed of the things of eternity and to soon enjoy this endless happiness, they chose here below as their sole share "suffering and contempt."

The epistolary exchanges doubled these interviews. The New Year's greetings, April 28 which brought back the anniversary of Céline's birth, October 21 when we celebrated her Patroness, virginal companion of Saint Geneviève and protector of the city of Meaux, constituted the perfect occasions. of this correspondence. Always smart, the young girl was careful not to visit her sisters when the fateful dates approached. She wanted “her letter”. Only then would she give thanks, and it would be an added joy and benefit.

Let us bless her for this ability. It brought us a packet of 45 missives which constitute human documents of prime importance. The Saint slips imperceptibly from the role of friend and sister to that of mother. The confidante gradually establishes herself as an authentic spiritual guide. Before the father's exile, Thérèse consoles Céline, who fears the fatal deadline. By opening herself, she directs her towards acceptance in pure faith. “Life is often heavy. What bitterness, but what sweetness!... If we still felt Jesus! Oh ! we would do everything for Him... but no, it seems a thousand miles away, we are alone with ourselves; Oh ! boring company when Jesus is not there! But what is this sweet Friend doing? So he doesn't see our anguish?... He is not far away, He is there very close, looking at us, begging from us for this sadness, this agony... He needs it for souls, for our soul. ..” (July 23, 1888).

When the cross becomes heavier, the exhortation becomes more urgent: “Why are you afraid of not being able to carry this cross without weakening,” Thérèse wrote in January 1889? Jesus, on the road to Calvary, did indeed fall three times, and you, poor little child, you would not be like your Spouse, you would not want to fall a hundred times, if necessary, to prove your love to him by rising again with more strength than before the fall?..."

As the ordeal continues, the temptations to discouragement are likely to take over. Returning from a visit to the Bon Sauveur, Céline lets out her complaint. We are in April 1889.

“How broken my poor heart is!” I cannot get used to seeing our dear little father so ill. I always remember him at home, when he spoke to us like a true patriarch. He's so good!

" Oh ! that the good Lord must love us when he sees us so afflicted! I wonder how he is not impatient to call our beloved father to Himself; it seems to me that he is making a great effort to leave him still on earth: it must result in a great advantage, and for his glory and for dad and for us, without that, he could not wait any longer.. Dear little sisters, what a happy moment when we will all be reunited up there! How these trials make us moan for the Fatherland! »

On April 26, Thérèse responded by inviting her sister to carry her cross weakly. She paraphrases or quotes verbatim some thoughts of Father Pichon: “Jesus suffered with sadness; without sadness, would the soul suffer? — “The Saints, when they were at the feet of Our Lord, it was then that they encountered their cross. » — Tasteful by these extracts, Céline wishes to read the notebook where Sister Marie de Saint-Joseph collected the essentials of the holy Jesuit's instructions. It's less than shorthand, but much more than a summary. The teaching, embellished with anecdotes and quotes from the best religious writers, is entirely oriented towards humility, trust in the Sacred Heart, love of suffering, abandonment and joy. Céline forces herself to copy the entire text, from her tiny handwriting to the clearly drawn lines. There are, on a squared notebook, 144 pages, of 32 lines each, of extreme density: a truly small volume, which testifies to the supernatural greed and courageous tenacity of the woman who imposed such an effort on herself.

She really needed this food to keep the peace. Once a week, she goes to Caen with Léonie to see her father. In October 1890, when Jeanne Guérin married Francis La Néele, who opened a medical practice in this city, both could stay there for extended periods. The state of the old man remains stationary, with clearings which rekindle hope. We had expected his presence at the Taking of the Veil of Thérèse, on September 24; M. Guérin opposed it at the last hour, an emotion that could be fatal; the ceremony was overshadowed by it. When the paralysis settled in his legs, the "Patriarch", who no longer required special supervision and was otherwise unfailingly gentle, could be brought back to Lisieux. On May 10, 1892, he was installed in rue Labbey, near the residence of his brother-in-law: Céline lovingly resumed her duty as nurse, her responsibilities as mistress of the house. Léonie's presence by her side would only be intermittent, for the young girl who had accompanied her on a pilgrimage to Paray-le-Monial had felt the desire for a vocation awaken within her. On June 23, 1893, she would try a new test at the Visitation of Caen. In what spirit did Céline conceive of her task? A passage from his spiritual notebook will tell us: "My joy was great to be able to take care of my beloved father myself... I never tired of kissing him, I showed him my affection in a thousand ways and never knew what to invent to please him. He was interested in everything that was happening around him. He especially liked to hear my cousin Marie play the piano, and stayed to listen to her.

“However, a house had to be rebuilt. My uncle rented a house very close to his. Ah! it was not the Buissonnets! But what did the case matter, we had “the fine pearl”! And I was so happy, that the stay in a dungeon would have seemed delicious to me with her. Nothing, nothing would have cost me in his company... No, it wasn't an ordinary filial love that I had for my father, I repeat, it was a cult. »

The service staff caused some trouble. Sister Geneviève de la Sainte Face spoke about it later with good humor. She also recounted the emotion felt, at the end of a novena to Saint Joseph for the conversion of one of her servants, when she saw the latter throw himself at her feet, humbly confessing: “I have been a wretch, for years I am far from God, I have committed sacrilege, but I want to change. It was just now, while looking at the painting of the Blessed Virgin, that my heart melted like wax. » The young girl addressed it to Canon Rohée, archpriest of Saint-Pierre, who did not hide his anticipation of such a return. This was — and the coincidence impressed the young girl — the painting that she had presented to her father on June 15, 1888, and which had offered the opportunity to entrust him with his vocation.

A few months earlier, in 1891, Céline had intervened to convince her uncle to bail out the newspaper Le Normand and take over its management. He hesitated, and his wife even more so, feeling that peace would be threatened. A curious detail which betrays an era, he feared above all, in his honor as a man and in his conscience as a Christian, possible provocations to a duel. His niece, with her customary enthusiasm, brushed aside the objection. The interests of God and the Church were at stake, which Le Progrès Lexovien flouted throughout its columns. “Hey! well you have conquered, girl with a big heart”, concludes the former pharmacist who proclaimed himself a publicist. Céline was also the first to congratulate him on an admirable article in which he avenged Leo XIII for the base attacks of a young politician.

Mr. Guérin had become a leading personality in Lisieux. Thus he came into contact with a renowned painter, originally from Normandy and a student of Flandrin, Mr. Krug. He invited her to give some lessons to Céline, who benefited greatly from such a school. Under the guidance of this master, she tackled some difficult subjects. He praised her highly for her art of composition and was keen to introduce her to the Salon if she agreed to take part in some study courses in the Capital. The young girl did not hesitate to climb a scaffolding to admire up close the frescoes with which her protector decorated the Abbey Choir. On several occasions, Mr. Krug went to see her at Carmel and checked her progress, which gave her more confidence. He will even offer him his large palette.

Céline does not let herself be dazzled by successes of this order. Thérèse initiated her into devotion to the Holy Face. She made him meditate in the prophet Isaiah on the abasement of the suffering Messiah. Coming out of such reflections, how could the world not be a burden? She shares the thirst for souls that devours her younger sister. With her, she prays, she sacrifices herself, for the man who was a brilliant preacher of Notre-Dame and who renounced his religious vows and his priesthood, Father Hyacinthe Loyson.

Every year, during the summer season, the young girl followed the Guérin family to the Château de La Musse, near Evreux. It was, in a grandiose site, a vast residence, surrounded by forty hectares of completely fenced parks and woods. Life there was joyful and varied: games, pleasure parties, excursions, with all the charms of comfort and the amenities of intimacy. Céline doesn't let her head turn. Rather, she experiences boredom with such luxury. She finds it difficult to tolerate being served. Like her mother in the past, she aspires to the great restoration that will take place in Heaven, where artificial inequalities will cease and everyone will be treated according to their true merit. Having found herself leaning limply on the cushions in the Victoria that is taking her on a visit, she feels overcome by an immense contempt for herself. “Is it really me, the proud and independent one, who is playing this comedy! My Jesus, he puts his glory in hiding himself, after having surrounded all his works in mystery! » She immediately takes off a bracelet she has just bought: “Hey! I would have my chain riveted to my wrist! So am I a slave? »

The opportunities for “entertainment”, in the Pascalian sense of the term, are multiple. In the evenings, Céline, through the brilliance of her conversation, constitutes a center of attraction. She cannot get rid of her pleasant nature, even less counterfeit herself, so she is surrounded by the most people. The attentions around her person are increasing, to the point that Mr. Guérin, who knows nothing about her future plans, feels he must warn her. In fact, she hates these signs of attention. She rejects several engagement proposals. Unable to avoid social meetings, she prepares for them through prayer; she goes there, armed with a crucifix which she sometimes holds in her hand. She suggests the same tactic to a somewhat evaporated friend, inviting her to dress among the most modest in her outfit. Do we talk to him about vanities? She's a distraction. Do we ask for his opinion? She gives it without bias. We know from Thérèse's Manuscript the episode of the failed dance, where the young girl and her date felt powerless to enter into the waltz, he, slipping away completely crestfallen, she, laughing first at the curious adventure. This scene, which took place at the wedding of Mr. Henry Maudelonde, nephew of Mrs. Guérin, shows us Céline visibly protected by the prayers of her sister, who, spiritually, felt invested with a high mission towards her.

If she puts on a good face to those around her, she nevertheless suffers from a framework so little suited to the ideal she pursues. The communion of each morning sustains it, and also the daily hour of prayer. She has set up, on the top floor, an austere and bare cell, where she forgets the life of a chatelaine. She also likes to escape with her cousin Marie to visit the poor or go to some nearby church, whose abandonment saddens her.

"I saw," she writes, "our rich and spacious dwelling, adorned with gold paneling and silky carpets, and turning my gaze down the valley, I saw, in the distance, the dusty steeple indicating the residence earth of our God. Yes, he lived next door, and I saw it, his tabernacle! repulsive corner, black and dirty... While the keys to my furniture were gilded, his, all rusty, creaked in a wretched lock held up by worm-eaten wood. What a shame to live in a sumptuous building when Jesus lives in a hovel! »

Céline does not suffer less to see the contrast between this luxury and the poverty of the humble. “I was thinking back to my childhood when, going to visit my little Thérèse at her nanny's, we were received in the one and only room, serving as a kitchen, bedroom and living room all at the same time. The floor was beaten earth... I thought that truth and freedom, therefore happiness, lived under the old brown beams rather than under the artistic ceilings and I longed for the happy moment when I would be transported to a poor cell. »

If she prefers the thatched hovel to the palaces, the young girl nevertheless enjoys the landscape of La Musse. Thérèse takes advantage of this to make her soar even higher: “The vast solitudes, the enchanting horizons that open up before you, must speak volumes to your soul. I don't see all that, but I say with Saint John of the Cross:

“I have in my Beloved the mountains,
The solitary and wooded valleys...
And this Beloved instructs my soul,
He speaks to her in silence, in darkness. »

This is because the Saint feels responsible for her sister's vocation. “The most intimate of my desires,” she wrote in her autobiographical manuscript, “the greatest of all, which I thought I would never see come true, was the entry of my darling Céline into the same Carmel as us... This dream seemed incredible to me: living under the same roof, sharing the joys and sorrows of my childhood companion; also I had completely made my sacrifice, I had entrusted the future of my darling sister to Jesus, being determined to see her go to the ends of the earth if necessary. The only thing I could not accept was that she was not the wife of Jesus, because loving him as much as I loved myself, it was impossible for me to see her give her heart to a mortal. »

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In Lisieux, it is easier to escape dissipating encounters. Another difficulty obsesses Céline. As early as June 1891, Father Pichon wrote to him from Canada: “It seems to me that, later, I will need you for a great work. » He gradually revealed to him the plan for a sort of secular Institute, working, in homes called Bethany, to prepare morally abandoned children for Communion and to spread good reading among the people. He explains the first achievements to her and openly asks her, as soon as she is free, to take the helm of the young foundation. He also asks her not to confide this to her sisters. This instruction to remain silent is heavy on the young girl. His “singing soul” is “melancholy” about it. “I am in darkness, reduced to the state of a log,” she wrote to Thérèse on August 17, 1892; I barely think of Jesus, but perhaps, without realizing it, the log is consumed by the ashes. »

Loyally, and without revealing herself, she opens to her sister the prospect of a possible separation. This note from July 17, 1894 betrays a painful embarrassment. “It seemed to me, I couldn't tell you this very well, it seemed to me that you were too much... that you were a support for me that allowed me to lean too much, that I was doing too much based on you, that you were too indispensable to me, finally it seemed to me that, to be entirely God's, I would have to leave you... I glimpsed the future and I believed that it was necessary to separate myself from you to only see you again in Heaven, I had a presentiment of a sacrifice surpassing all sacrifices. »

This period of uncertainty was particularly cruel. Céline then turned towards the statue of the Virgin who had cured the little Queen, and of which she herself believed, on the evening of Friday, December 16, 1892, to perceive, through her tears, the marvelous smile. One of his poems will keep the memory of this unspeakable grace.

In the Carmel, we are worried about the anguish that affects the young girl and that she cannot completely hide. This is no doubt why Father Pichon, in the letter he addressed from Canada to Thérèse, on September 21, 1893, inserted this passage: “Cherish your Céline: she deserves it. I know that better than you. Our Lord leads her to the summits by a rough and steep path. »

The recommendation is also superfluous. Didn't the Saint write to her sister: "I feel very united with my Céline, I believe that the good Lord has not often made two souls who understand each other so well: never a discordant note. The hand of Jesus which touches one of the lyres makes the other vibrate at the same time. » The letters take on more and more the character of a spiritual direction. Thérèse takes Céline in her wake. She discovers his “little way”; she calls her “the little child of Jesus”. With her art of symbolizing everything, she sent him, on April 28, 1894, an envelope containing a tiny souvenir. The envelope bore these words: “Little image painted by little Thérèse for little Céline’s 25th birthday, with the permission of the little Mother Prioress.”

These consolations, in which the distant grace of Les Buissonnets revived, helped Céline to accomplish her noble task to the end. An almost maternal feeling had awakened in her soul for the humiliated father, who expected everything from her protection. Thérèse would later interpret her feelings in the poem: "What I loved":

To my father, in his old age,
I offered the support of my youth.
He was everything to me: happiness, child, wealth.
Ah! I kissed him tenderly
Often !

The denouement, however, was approaching. In the fine weather of 1894, as in the previous year, M. Guérin had wanted to take his brother-in-law to La Musse. The patient lived in a pavilion on the ground floor, which made it easier for him to access the park in his small car. In the splendor of nature it seems to take on new life. He likes to linger in the shelter of tall trees. Céline captures from life one of these relaxing scenes:

"I will remember all my life his beautiful face when, in the evening, at nightfall, deep in the woods, we stopped to hear the nightingale: he was listening... with what expression in his eyes! It was like an ecstasy, a je ne sais quoi of the Fatherland reflected in his features. Then, after a good while of silence, we were still listening, and I saw tears streaming down her darling cheeks. Oh ! the beautiful day!

“Since then he has been less well. This extraordinary consolation could not last, and yet, in spite of everything, how sweet were her last days! Who could have thought that? The Lord deals with us with ineffable goodness! »

Towards the end of July, the patient's condition worsening, he was administered Extreme Unction. On Sunday 29, a cardiac syncope won her slowly. Céline, who never left her bedside, received the last sigh of the man she had surrounded with so much care. She tells the Carmel of the last moments: “In a moved voice, I recited the prayer: Jesus, Mary, Joseph. His gaze was full of life, gratitude and tenderness; the flame of intelligence illuminated him. In an instant, I found my beloved father as he was five years before, and it was to bless and thank me. »

It was then necessary to reveal Father Pichon's project to Thérèse. The Saint suffered from this disappointment, which made her shed more tears than she had ever shed, and caused her violent headaches. She resigned herself, however, to the opposition raised here and there to the introduction into the narrow circle of Carmel of a fourth member of the same household.

If Mother Agnès de Jésus, elected Prioress on February 20, 1893, wished to welcome Céline, if Mother Marie de Gonzague nobly acquiesced, we encountered the formal veto of the Superior and a Capitulant, Sister Aimée de Jésus. Céline remained hesitant. The contemplative life attracted him. But was she not giving in to brotherly love in this? In this dismay, she prays, she makes others pray. Soon the light comes. Father Pichón, consulted, wrote to him on August 20: “Go and hide in the desert as quickly as possible, take your place among the victims that Jesus chose for himself. I do not doubt. I no longer hesitate. The will of God seems manifest to me. Let us make our sacrifice willingly. » Canon Delatroëtte, whom Céline visits, is in turn moved and gives his consent. Bishop Hugonin ratified it without delay. As for Sister Beloved of Jesus, Thérèse asked God to incline her heart towards acceptance; she wants to see it as a sign that Mr. Martin has gone straight to Heaven. And, the prayer barely formulated, the nun comes, “with tears in her eyes”, to offer her assent.

So everything is rushing. Céline's entry is set for September 14, 1894, the feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross. The demon engages him in rearguard battles. It inspires sudden repugnance in her: this dress from another age, this veil which surrounds the head, this formal gait!... She, so enamored of beauty, so jealous of her freedom!... The applicant does not back down for such a small amount. As at the papal audience she said to her sister: “Speak”, she said to herself: “Walk! » She refuses to take into account the apprehensions, the nightmares, which trouble her last nights in the world. After carrying the statue of the Virgin of Smiles to the Monastery the day before, which will take its place in the antechamber of Thérèse's cell, she decisively crosses the closing door.

3. Céline in the cloister at Thérèse’s school

Barely arrived at the port, the one who would henceforth be called Mary of the Holy Face tasted an inexpressible peace. “All my temptations vanished,” she wrote; the storm gave way to calm and the deepest serenity. I felt that at last I had found my place of rest. »

Mother Agnès of Jesus leads her to the cell that she will occupy henceforth. There, Therese takes her hand to point out, on the pillow, a piece of paper placed for her. It was a poem ending with this stanza:

Come to us, girl!

My crown lacks a shining pearl,

The Lord told us, and we all come,

To take you away from the world with our white wings,

Like a swarm of birds takes a flower from the branches

Come to us! Come to us!

"What was my emotion, writes Céline, when, approaching me to read this poem, I recognized dad's handwriting... It was he who received me in this house where the love of Jesus had reserved a place... At this sight, waves of gratitude rushed into my heart, and tenderness caused tears to spring up which grief and anguish had not been able to make flow.

“I cannot say what passed within me in this first interview with my dear sisters. We said almost nothing to each other. I sat down in silence on the edge of my pallet, like the weary traveler who, after a long absence traversed by countless perils, catches his breath on arriving at the port, still not daring to believe in his happiness. »

The first contact is very friendly. The austere simplicity of the conventual premises pleases the young girl. As an artist, she admires the sober lines of the Carmelite Habit, the white color of the coat standing out against the dark background of the dress. Yesterday's objections are quickly swept away. Thérèse introduced him to the timetable, to customs, to handling the breviary. She confides to Sister Marie of the Sacred Heart her happy surprise to find in Céline all her former freshness, without any trace of those complications with which the world marks souls. The postulant entered fully and entirely into religious life, the beauty of which she never ceased to exalt. Won't she go and kiss the closing gate on each anniversary of her coming to the monastery?

Difficulties will soon arise, inevitable. The most unexpected first. Céline takes several weeks to get used to her mattress. Sleep time being then too short, she sometimes fell asleep at the Office, in prayer, in adoration: this was the occasion for painful and humiliating struggles. It will take her more than a year to adapt to the diet, in particular to fish, milk, starches, which constituted the background, and which she had a horror of. Having pain in the soles of the feet, standing, in the chorus, extremely tired. His health is fragile and will remain so until the end. She has a bad stomach and suffers from frequent toothaches. Nevertheless, the postulate includes certain accommodations. Céline victoriously crosses the course.

On February 5, 1895, his Taking of the Habit took place. The snow was there, and also a sheaf of lilies sent to the heroine of the day by the most tenacious of her former suitors. The usual address was delivered by Canon Ducellier, former vicar of Saint-Pierre and then dean of Trévières. Its theme was this verse from the Song: “The winter has passed, the rains have ceased, arise, my beloved, and come. The preacher inserted a magnificent eulogy of M. Martin, whose memory hovered over this feast.

The new Carmelite recounts her impressions. “During the ceremony, I received a particular grace of intimate union with my Beloved; I no longer saw anything that was happening around me. The presence of the Bishop, the numerous clergy, the people who had come in droves, everything had disappeared from my eyes, I was alone with Jesus... when suddenly I was awakened from my interior silence by the song of Compline which continued in vibrant and lively notes. The choir intoned the psalm: Qui habitat in adjutorio Altissimi, and I understood its meaning, and each word fell into my soul like the pledge of a sacred promise made to me by Him to whom I united my life. »

At the request expressed by the Superior, and to honor the memory of the Foundress of the Carmel of Lisieux, who died on December 5, 1891, Céline had to change her name of Marie de la Sainte-Face with that of Geneviève de Sainte Thérèse. Sister Thérèse of the Child Jesus, who had given her her first title of nobility, was somewhat affected by this substitution. She consoled her sister none the less. "We'll both have the same patroness," she told him, thinking of the Reformer of Avila. To which Sister Geneviève replied, without knowing that she was prophesying: “It is you who will be my patroness. With a new name, the novice received precious relics from the Foundress of the Carmel of Lisieux: her belt buckle, her cross, her rosary medal, and also an autograph phrase in which she liked to find herself and which she would carefully frame: “I am chained, and yet I am free. »

In the immediate future, she especially feels the weight of the bonds. Having entered at the age of twenty-five, after having enjoyed much consideration in the world and complete autonomy in the government of her home, naturally inclined to independence and incapable of concealing her thoughts, she finds herself enclosed within the narrow framework of the Monastery, hemmed in by a whole network of observances whose meaning often escapes her, last arrival, that is to say, subject to all and called to help them all, without ever assuming responsibilities personal. Because of his multiple talents, he is asked for many supererogatory services. For such a feast of the Mother Prioress, she has to decorate up to forty small objects. It is an occupation that Sister Geneviève fulfills willingly. In the century, with her cousin, Marie Guérin, she had a passion for photography, even taking part, in this field, in an amateur exhibition. With the approval of Mother Agnès of Jesus, she introduced her camera to the Carmel: a 13x18 camera, Darlot lens, with all the additional paraphernalia. She will play it as a virtuoso to fill the Community album and allow the sending to families and friendly Monasteries of particularly appreciated souvenirs. Let us bless the liberalism of the Superiors of Lisieux. It contrasts with the regulations then in force, which, in the name of the spirit of enclosure, banished from most convents an art deemed frivolous. We owe him most of the pictures that will fill the album Face of Thérèse of Lisieux.

To cope with everything, Sister Geneviève gets busy. She also has a remarkable speed of execution, at the same time as an extreme attention to detail: everything must be cared for to perfection. This earned her some reproaches: she was not sufficiently detached from her work; she shows nervousness there; she does not leave her at the stroke of the bell; she resents being interrupted. Now it happens that an old Sister thinks she has to exercise it at the wrong time, that another, suffering from cerebral anemia, calls her frequently, without reason, even telling her one day that she wanted to study her step, similar to that of his sister. Our Céline explodes, even if it means regretting it immediately. All this bruised her raw, because, she notes, "it is true the words of a wise man, that one feels more a pinprick on oneself than the broken arm of the neighbor".

There is more. This series of incidents makes her lose her illusions about herself. She gives herself painfully to the exploration of her weakness.

“In the world, she writes with beautiful lucidity, my soul lived, so to speak, in a fortified castle, it was confined there and enjoyed its riches. Inside and out, everything obeyed him. Praised, applauded, she thought she was something without suspecting it. Besides, did she need someone to praise her from the outside, when she herself felt herself to be alive with constantly reviving energies, when the good Lord had placed her, so to speak, face to face with the gifts He gave her? had parted with so much liberality?

“But suddenly the picture changed. Instead of the edifice, I see nothing more than ruins which leave uncovered abysses hitherto ignored. Now the war is kindled in me, my faults, dormant until now, have awakened. Was it to live in their company that I came to Carmel? »

Céline was in the novitiate with two lay brothers, Sisters Marthe of Jesus and Marie-Madeleine du Saint-Sacrement, and a choir sister, Marie de la Trinité; his cousin, Marie Guérin, will come, eleven months later, to reinforce the small group. This meeting constituted a chance by the exchanges which it caused, the climate of spirit, of emulation, of fraternal love which it authorized. It was no less an occasion for minor tension and friction. “One will no doubt be surprised,” Sister Geneviève wrote later, “that nuns have to fight such battles against nature. I admit that I myself shared this astonishment at the beginning of my Carmelite life. It seemed to me that after having consented to the sacrifice of separation from family and total renunciation of the world, it should be easy to bear the thousand little shocks of life together. I was quickly undeceived and by personal experience. »

“The cloister is unaware of the thousand distractions which serve as a diversion for wounded sensibility; the latter therefore experiences more acutely the little misunderstandings fatally provoked by different temperaments, educations, and characters. We see a soul, heroic in the face of great immolations, having to fight a fight to the death over minor incidents. This is what Sister Thérèse pointed out to me...”

These are minor dramas, which hardly frighten those who have experienced the beginnings of religious life. When Sister Geneviève complains, Mother Agnès of Jesus replies in a relaxed tone: “Do you think it's too hard? Do more. And the novice, taking the word literally, reacted with all her might.

She nevertheless suffered from no longer receiving the Host every day, the Community being under the regime then in force of three or four communions a week. On February 3, 1895, she placed herself completely in the hands of the Blessed Virgin. "You are the mistress of my house," she liked to say to him. "As special protectors, she chose Saint John the Baptist, who effaced himself humbly before Christ, Elijah, the intrepid zealot of the glory of God, and Saint Michael, the exterminator of Satan in the name of the sovereign power of the Most -High.

***

To overcome the obstacles strewn under her feet, the beginner has the advantage of having a Saint, who is her own sister, by her side. Thérèse herself declares about him in her autobiography: “I can say that my fraternal affection was more like a mother's love, I was filled with devotion and solicitude for his soul. Shortly before her death, on July 16, 1897, alluding to Father Pichon's desire to attract Céline to Canada, she confided to Mother Agnès of Jesus: "I had made the complete sacrifice of Sister Geneviève, but I cannot say that I no longer wanted her. Very often, in summer, during the hour of silence, before Matins, sitting on the terrace, I would say to myself: “Ah! if my Céline were there, near me!... But no, that would be too great a happiness. And that seemed like an impossible dream to me. Yet it was not by nature that I wanted this happiness, it was for her soul, so that she would follow my little way. And when I saw her enter here, and not only enter, but given to me completely to instruct her, when I saw that the good Lord thus exceeded my desires, I understood what immensity of love he had For me. »

Since February 20, 1893, Thérèse served as an auxiliary to the Mistress of Novices, Mother Marie de Gonzague. The latter, when she succeeds Mother Agnès of Jesus as Prioress, will combine this responsibility with the direction of the novitiate, but keeping her young collaborator at her side. Thérèse will thus be brought to play a decisive role in the formation of Céline. His religious genius, always on the alert, was then very close to reaching, through a whole series of experiments and researches, its full maturity. Sacred Scripture, confirming all her intuitions, gave her the key to what would one day be called Spiritual Childhood and which she herself referred to as the "Little Way", or the "Way of love and of confidence ". An interior inspiration impelled her to communicate the grace which dwelt in her and which carried her irresistibly to the heights of union with God.

It was for her more than a joy, a real good fortune, to find in Céline the ideal disciple, so welcoming, open, spontaneous, friendly, and at the same time personal, curious, reasoning, able to react. By her requests for explanations, her resistance, her very objections, the student will force the Mistress to deepen her message, to present it concretely, to rethink it, to adapt it, to the extent of a budding fervor, not yet free of failures or rework. A soft paste would have recorded passively, without being able to serve as interpreter or proof. A vigorous and in no way conformist temperament would offer future generations a testimony of weight, at the same time as it would stimulate in Thérèse what we would willingly venture to call the development and pedagogy of her spirituality. In this sense, can we not consider as a design of Providence the admission, in itself somewhat unusual, of a fourth member of the Martin family into a Community whose number of subjects is limited by the Rule?

As for Sister Geneviève, the roles have long been reversed between her and the Little Queen, and being the oldest, she goes to school with her youngest. “I always come after you, she wrote to him on March 1889, XNUMX: I am another yourself, but you are the reality, while I am only your shadow. " She will now benefit from this contact, the law of which she traced one day: "Just as a sponge full of water cannot be touched without communicating the liquid in which it is soaked, so one cannot approach a Saint who exudes divine grace through every pore, without feeling its influence. It is for this reason that the Saints are so useful to the Church. »

When asked if, on her arrival at the cloister, she had noticed anything extraordinary in Thérèse, Sister Geneviève declared: “No, she was not extraordinary, but I was always struck by her answers. The Holy Spirit spoke through his mouth. For sure. For her part, the young Sub-Mistress of Novices appreciated in this disciple of choice the ardent desire to be completely with Jesus, the impetus which goes straight to the goal, a fundamental generosity capable of the greatest devotion. Above all, she admired his direct tone and his transparent loyalty: "When I think of you with the only Friend of my soul, she had written to him on April 25, 1893, it is always simplicity that presents itself to me as the distinctiveness of your heart. She returns to this in the poem dedicated to her sister and which is entitled: “The Queen of Heaven to her little Marie. »

I want your forehead to shine

sweetness and purity,

But the virtue that I give you, Above all, is simplicity.

Sister Geneviève having confided to her the attacks that her chastity had undergone in the world, the Saint pressed her in her arms and said to her in a voice full of tears: “Oh! How happy I am today!... How proud I am of my Céline! Yes today, I still see one of my wishes fulfilled, because I had always wanted to give God that suffering, and it had not visited my soul, but since it visited the soul of my Céline, this other myself, then, I am completely satisfied: between the two of us we will have offered Jesus all kinds of martyrdom. »

Thérèse does not hesitate to bring the past of Les Buissonnets back to life. It was confidences of this kind, made one evening in December 1894 to his three sisters, which led Mother Agnès of Jesus to ask him to write down her childhood memories. The Saint occasionally uses graceful nicknames—it was a custom inherited from M. Martin—which yesterday populated her correspondence with Céline, and which will be found in her poems. At home, they had only the appearance of cutesy, for she hid under this naive envelope strong and salutary lessons. Whether she speaks, in a sensitive way, of "the little shadow" or of "the little lyre of Jesus", of "Immortal Lily" or of "sweet echo of her soul", of the "drop of dew" or of the "darling Little Veronica", the plan is always to detach from himself, to fix it in God, this heart which she feels ardent and tender. In this regard, she shows total patience and availability. Sister Geneviève fondly recalled the day when, having knocked over an inkwell on the white wall and on the floor of her cell, she went, in great distress, to look for her sister who, soothing her with a smile, helped her to repair the damage.

Even in these fraternal relations, mortification regained its rights. Céline explains this very frankly: “Because of the responsibility of the novices which had been given to her, my relations with my dear Thérèse were very frequent, but, there again, I had to encounter the cross. Not being the only "little cat to drink from the bowl of the Child Jesus", I had to not take more than the others and not come back to it more often, but, on the contrary, make myself pardon, by my discretion, the privilege of being his sister. It was a matter for me of great sacrifices. »

Moreover, the Saint knew how to be firm and demanding. We can also guess it through the confessions of Sister Geneviève.

“When my time had come to go to her, I was very happy, and in those all-too-short moments, the two sisters resumed the conversations that had once begun at the windows of the Belvedere... However, the theme had changed a little , for the surges of enthusiasm for suffering and contempt were now experienced; virtue in flowers and in desires had become virtue in action; my flower had withered, and the still green fruit was knotted in the laborious transformations of a painful and hidden work.

“For Thérèse, the fruit was ripe, and the divine gardener was about to pick it, but mine was just announcing itself; there was then more difference between Thérèse and Céline than formerly at the time of the first flights; they were no longer equal, the two little sisters... This presupposes more devotion than joy in the mission that my Thérèse fulfilled with me. Without seeking her personal consolation, she applied herself to breaking down the illusions, the prejudices, which I had brought from the world, for however impermeable one may be by the grace of God, it is nevertheless impossible not to preserve some vestiges of that dye. And me, I had been immersed in it for too long for the cursed colors not to remain in me... She taught me the art of war, showed me the pitfalls, the means of overcoming the enemy, how to handle arms; she led me step by step in the struggles of each day. »

Celine was too “personal” to offer what could be called spontaneous humility. Nevertheless, she always had the desire and the passion for this virtue and she made substantial progress in it. She manifested it at Pentecost in 1895, when Mother Agnès of Jesus, wishing that a member of the family would rank among the Lay Sisters, set her sights on her. She nodded without hesitation, and the thing would have been ratified if Mother Marie de Gonzague had not put an obstacle to it.

However, this outline was far from the ideal proposed by Thérèse. This one intended to lead her Céline in her little Way, to make her go down the valley where she aspired to go up, to forbid her all together to “value” and “value”. Such a conversion does not happen in one go.

Sister Geneviève is going to give us some interesting details on the way her sister guided the souls entrusted to her, either through conversations or daily observations, or in regular interviews, alone, or even in the collective meetings of the novitiate, from the moment when Mother Marie de Gonzague left herself completely to her on this point, absorbed as she was by the responsibilities of the superior.

“She gathered the novices every day, after vespers, from two and a half to three o'clock. She did not give them a lecture properly so called. His teaching was not systematic. She read or had others read a few passages from the Rule, the Constitutions or the Customary known as the "Exaction Paper", gave the few explanations or clarifications she deemed useful, or answered the questions posed by the young Sisters, then resumed their shortcomings. , if necessary, and spoke familiarly with them about what might interest them at that time, in terms of spirituality, or even work in progress. In her private conversations with the novices, the Saint gave the advice best suited to each one. She shed light on the cases of conscience and the difficulties of her novices according to their personal tendencies, their own needs, their trials or their current joys. »

Does Céline put a touch of coquetry into highlighting her victories or excusing her failures; Thérèse tears firmly the deceptive veil: “You must never believe, when you do not practice virtue, that it is due to a natural cause such as illness, time or sorrow. You must draw from it a great subject of humiliation and place yourself among the little souls, since you can only practice virtue in such a weak way. What you need now is not to practice heroic virtues, but to acquire humility. For that, your victories must always be mixed with a few defeats, so that you cannot think of them with pleasure. »

Does Sister Geneviève envy the happy memory which allows the Saint to retain textually many passages of Scripture; Therese rebukes him sharply. “Oh! now you want to possess wealth, to have possessions! Leaning on that is leaning on a hot iron! There is still a small mark! It is necessary not to lean on anything, not even on what can help piety...” She teaches him to abandon everything blindly to “the Bank of the good Lord”.

"Once, laughing, Céline says again, forcing me to present my hand to her, she wrote to me, in ink, on one fingernail: 'Love of lucre' and forced me to keep this mark for some time. »

The natural eagerness, the feverish application of the young novice to the work entrusted to her are pitilessly spotted, unmasked, repressed... hope unceasingly to have arrived; you are surprised to fall. Always expect to fall. You worry about the future as if it were you who had to fix it; I then understand your anxiety; you are always saying to yourself: O my God, what will come out of my hands! Everyone seeks augurs in this way, it is the common way; those who do not seek them are only the poor in spirit. »

One does not rise from the first leap to such a summit. Celine comes up against difficulties more than once. "It's impossible, I can't put myself above it!" — “Go under it,” Thérèse replies, alluding to a pleasant memory of their childhood in Alencon: this horse which blocked the access to the garden, the women turning away to avoid it, but the youngest nimbly slipping “under it. the animal and cheerfully reaching the goal. “That's what you gain from being small. There are no obstacles for the little ones. They creep everywhere. »

Saint John of the Cross was no more relentless in flushing out the calculations of self-love, the Patriarch of Assisi in denouncing the proprietary instinct. The dialectic of “todo” and “nada” holds no secrets for Thérèse. It also makes us aware of the "nothing" of the creature to move towards the "everything" of God.

Céline attached herself to a pin that she considered very suitable for a specific purpose. She regrets having lost her. " Oh ! how rich you are! reproaches him for the fraternal voice. You can't be happy! »

The novice picked a snowdrop without permission. She had to be told that the Carmel garden is not that of Les Buissonnets where she was “mistress”. She suffers, she turns to God, her only refuge, and tries to console herself by trying to improvise a canticle of which she finds only the first two lines:

The flower I pick, oh my King, / It's you.

Thérèse takes up the idea and develops it in stanzas that reassure the contrite soul. She has written nothing more graceful. This “Canticle of Céline” will be published later under the title: “Ce que j'aime. »

Another time, it was Sister Geneviève who begged the Saint to verse all the sacrifices she was aware of having offered to Jesus. The answer arrives, as if by return mail, but noticeably inflected. It is the poem: “Jesus, my Beloved, remember”, which lists the sacrifices made by Jesus to attach Celine to himself. We grasp the nuance and its educational scope.

All of Thérèse's art is to lead her sister to recognize, to accept, to cherish her misery, seeing in it a title to move merciful Love and to attract its generosity. "She was happy," writes Sister Geneviève, "to see me struggling step by step with faults that kept me constantly in humiliation, because, with my spontaneous character, I often had little outings with the Sisters, outings that grieved a lot because of my great self-esteem. I found that my exterior was deceptive, that I was much better than I appeared: from there, a certain annoyance at not being judged at my fair value... So my little sister endeavored, by her penetrating instructions, embellished with typical and quite circumstantial stories, to make me love the reproach in which I was. She told me “that, if there were no imperfection to fall, it would have to be done on purpose in order to practice humility”. She made me find my joy in believing myself to be a "tiny little soul" that the good Lord is constantly obliged to support because she is nothing more than weakness and imperfection. She also wanted me to come to want others to notice my faults, so that they would always despise me and judge me a nun without virtue. "You must not be a Justice of the Peace," remarked the Saint wittily. Only God has this right. Your mission is to be an Angel of peace. And she urged Céline to consider herself "like a little slave over whom everyone has the right to command and who doesn't dream of complaining, since she is a slave."

Thérèse's kindness, that marvelous smile that won her all hearts, and that no photographer has ever managed to capture, because her soul was all there, made them accept the most austere lessons without revolt. It was joined by pleasant industries, whose childish appearance should not deceive us: a poem, a canticle, which coats a whole teaching, and which the novice discovers in her sandals, on Christmas morning or at occasion of a birthday; a symbolic picture that evokes the charms of childhood; a toy that will serve, better than a parable, to recall abandonment into the hands of Jesus; even this envelope of December 25, 1896, which bears the simple mention: “Sending of the Blessed Virgin. To my darling child without asylum in a foreign land. There follows a maternal exhortation to understand the price of suffering and interior poverty, with this conclusion which tempers the call to sacrifice: "One day you will come with your Therese to beautiful Heaven, you will take your place on my Beloved Jesus, and I will also take you in my arms and I will shower you with caresses because I am your Mother. »

A year earlier, the Saint had opened up the same perspective, on the back of an image representing the Child Jesus mowing lilies. Under the double signature of Céline and Thérèse was formulated this prayer: “O my God, we ask you that your two lilies never be separated on earth. May they console you together for the little love you find in this vale of tears and may, during Eternity, their corollas shine with the same brilliance and spread the same perfume when they bow towards you. »

Sister Geneviève knows she is loved by her young Mistress, with an affection that is as deep as it is demanding. The Saint will admit that she suffered when no thought was given, in the group photographs, to reserving a place for Céline at her side. When the whole Community posed in front of the lens at the washhouse, they couldn't stand it any longer and asked Sister Martha of Jesus to step aside a little so that she could have her lifelong companion near her. The two sisters fraternize even in the sound of the voice; they have the same intonations, the same accent, to the point that one easily takes them for the other when they recite the lessons in the Choir.

From this trusting friendship, Céline is not the only one to benefit. Thérèse knows how to exploit, to develop her thought, the witticisms, the original reflections and even the question marks of her pupil. This one gave him the collections of scriptural quotations that she had made up in the world. The Saint will draw from it some of the texts which will serve as support for her “little doctrine”. She herself offers her sister an image which bears, on one side, the photographs of the four brothers and sisters returned to God precociously, on the other, verses from the Gospels, the prophet Isaiah and Saint Paul, exalting the spiritual childhood and the gratuitousness of justification.

At the center of such intimacy shone the passionate worship of Jesus. About him Thérèse asks her sister this question one day, point-blank: “Do you prefer to say “you” or “you” to him when you pray to him?” — "I answered him, confides Celine, that I preferred to say "you." Quite relieved, she went on: “Me too, I much prefer to say “you” to Jesus; it better expresses my love, and I never miss it when I speak to Him alone; but in my poems and prayers which are to be read by others, I dare not. »

It was again Sister Geneviève who surprised the Saint covering her crucifix with roses and making the gesture of tearing from Christ the nails and the crown of thorns. It was she who, seeing him in his cell, sewing, was struck by his expression of intense contemplation: “What are you thinking about? she asked. “I meditate on the Pater. It is so sweet to call the good God our Father!...”

In such an atmosphere, asceticism, however severe, was not likely to darken or frighten. She was radiant and sunny. Thérèse applied her pupil to attaching herself to Jesus in a permanent movement of absolute trust, to giving him pleasure in everything, and even in the smallest things, neglecting nothing of those little attentions through which love is expressed. “Sometimes, admits Céline, I went to her, discouraged, unable to take it any longer, finding myself imperfect all along the line. She received me with kindness, listened to me, so that I returned ready to continue the fight. Jesus always had the last word.

This effort paid off. Sister Geneviève did not strip herself of all her faults, but she learned to use them to touch her misery. In order to help her, Thérèse associated her, from the outset, with a process that marked an important turning point in her spiritual life. Here again, we leave the floor to Céline herself. His direct testimony is more valuable than any gloss.

“It was on June 9, 1895, during Mass on Holy Trinity Day, that my little Thérèse was inspired to offer herself to the Merciful Love of God. Already, three months before, during an hour of Adoration, at the Forty Hours, on Tuesday, February 26, she had composed her canticle in one go: "Living on Love", according to her personal inspirations. On Holy Trinity Sunday, she was therefore inspired to offer herself as a Victim to Merciful Love. Immediately after mass, very moved, she dragged me along; I didn't know why. But soon, we joined Mother Agnes of Jesus, who was going to Le Tour to pick up her mail. Therese seemed a little embarrassed to explain her request. She stammered a few words, asking permission to offer herself with me to Merciful Love. I don't know if she said the word Victim. It didn't seem important; Our Mother says: yes.

“Once alone with me, she explained to me a little what she wanted to do; she was very moved; his gaze was on fire. She told me she was going to put her thoughts in writing and composed her deed of gift. Two days later, kneeling together before the Miraculous Virgin, she pronounced the Act for both of us. It was June 11. »

Among the memorable dates of her life, Sister Geneviève notes one which shortly followed this event: September 8, 1895. She notes there an indescribable grace that she condenses in this formula: “Jesus living in Céline, Céline possessed by Jesus. »

The hour of his Profession was approaching. Marie Guérin entered the Carmel on August 15, 1895; she was soon to take the Habit; it was a question of making the two ceremonies coincide. In view of her oblation, Céline, who liked to imagine Jesus as her Knight, drew his coat of arms in pen and commented on it in a sheet dated November 1895, 24. She expressed the meaning of her vocation, which she summarized in her answer to the question of the canonical examination: "What attracted you to Carmel? » « Jesus having wanted to give his life for me, I wanted to give him mine. Later, she will want to destroy this paper, considering that it was "counterfeit money", as Thérèse said, that is to say beautiful declarations not inserted in life. But his sister dissuaded him and composed for him herself, from this theme, and on imitation parchment, real coats of arms, with Contract of alliance of Jesus and Céline, all in an envelope bearing a wax seal. We needed a motto. Questioned on this point, Sister Geneviève replied thoughtlessly, thinking of a game from her childhood: “Who loses wins! ". Quick to take advantage of everything, the Saint immediately recorded, despite the protests of her interlocutor, these words which took on an evangelical resonance for her: leaving oneself to find God. The letter is stamped “from the Garden of Agony”, because it was in commemoration of this mystery, on February 1896, XNUMX, that Sister Geneviève made her Profession. The document was deposited the day before in the cell of the novice, under the following address: "Sending of the Knight Jesus to my Beloved Spouse, Geneviève de Sainte Thérèse, living with love on the mountain of Carmel . »

The deadline for the party had not been fixed without difficulty. Mother Marie de Gonzague, Mistress of Novices, would have liked to impose a deadline. In reality, she wanted to preside over the ceremony herself, as new elections were to take place soon. It was on this occasion that Thérèse observed: “That does not enter into the category of humiliations that one can inflict. Consulted by Mother Agnes of Jesus, the Bishop's representative opposed any delay.

Two days before the big day, Sister Geneviève fell prey to frightful assaults, doubting her vocation, believing that she was playing comedy. Everything calmed down in prayer. Comforted by the blessing of Leo XIII, which the faithful Brother Simeon had obtained for her, she made her vows in the hands of her sister, Pauline, the “Little Mother” of the whole family. She carried on her heart a prayer in which she had summed up all her aspirations. It reads in particular: "Lord, my ambition is to be, with my darling Thérèse, a little child in the paternal house of Heaven... I only want to work to please you... I agree to always lose here -down, because I want everything I receive from you to be free, because you love me, and not riches acquired by my virtues... Do not judge me according to my works, do not impute my faults to me , but look at the Face of my Jesus. He will answer for me. »

At the evening feast, according to tradition, the hymn composed in her honor was sung to the newly professed. It was the work of Sister Marie des Anges. Thérèse, who would have liked to be in charge of it, took fraternal revenge when she versified, a year later, the song intended for Marie Guérin. She gave it the title: “My Arms”; she exploited the base of chivalrous ideas that so excited Céline, and she said to her: “That's the one I wanted to offer you; so consider it for you. The Saint had moreover given him at the time, in compensation, a poem in which figured a delicate reminder of the grace of September 8, 1895 and an invaluable relic, she had also given him "The last tear of Mother Geneviève de Sainte Therese”. Finally, responding to her desire, she composed for her an “Allegorical Description: The Wedding Feast of Jesus and Celine in Heaven”. In naive paintings, but with a far-reaching intention, the entire Court of the elect is evoked at length, particularly the deceased members of the Martin family, who bow lovingly to the bride of Christ.

The Taking of the Veil took place on March 17, 1896. Sister Geneviève would rejoice later to discover that on such a day the Roman martyrology celebrates the memory of Joseph of Arimathea, the donor of the Holy Shroud. Bishop Hugonin presided. The sermon was again entrusted to Canon Ducellier who, abandoning the subject suggested by Thérèse, commented on the verse: Placebo Domino in regione vivorum. This text, used for the Office of the Dead, was not out of season in a ceremony which consecrates this mystical death which is the definitive separation from the world. In the afternoon, before a very large audience, Marie Guérin received the Habit of Carmel, under the name of Sister Marie of the Eucharist. It was on this day that Céline and her youngest were photographed side by side, near the cross in the courtyard.

Mother Marie de Gonzague took over the office of Prioress in the elections of March 21, 1896. Under her government there was a question of sending Thérèse herself to Indochina, then Mother Agnès of Jesus, finally Sister Geneviève and Sister Marie de la Trinité. The project was not followed up, but it was not without stimulating generosity and a spirit of sacrifice among those concerned. It was during this triennium that the Saint consummated in beauty her brief existence. The Superior, who highly appreciated her, and who had the merit of favoring her entry into the cloister, like that of her sister and her cousin, gave her Céline as her second nurse. Sensing her approaching end, the patient said with compassion: “Oh! it is my little Sister Geneviève who will feel my departure the most; certainly, it is she whom I find the most to be pitied because as soon as she is in pain, she comes to me, and she will have no one left... Yes, but the good Lord will give her the strength ...and then I'll come back. »

On May 13, 1897, her sister celebrating the anniversary of her First Communion, Thérèse addressed these lines to her:

“Jesus is happy with little Céline to whom he gave himself for the first time seventeen years ago. He is more proud of what he does in his soul, of his smallness, of his poverty, than he is proud of having created the millions of suns and the expanse of the Heavens. »

We wanted to offer Mother Marie de Gonzague, for her feast of June 21, a photograph of the patient. On the 7th of this month, in the courtyard of the sacristy, Thérèse, overcoming her physical exhaustion, posed in front of Sister Geneviève, who immediately developed the plates in a nearby cellar. Unsatisfied with the first two shots, the operator proceeded to a third session, which earned us the impressive image of a Therese in the "open air", as the novices said, serious, energetic, stiff in the suffering that she masters. .

The same day, the Saint still found the strength to write to Céline who had admired her patience and expressed regret at not being able to imitate her: “Beloved little sister, let us never seek what seems great in the eyes of creatures. .. The only thing that is not envied is the last place; there is only this last place which is not vanity and affliction of spirit. However, "the way of man is not in his power", and sometimes we find ourselves longing for the shining. So, let us humbly line up among the imperfect, let us consider ourselves little souls that the good Lord must support at all times. As soon as he sees us convinced of our nothingness, he extends his hand to us..."

The smallest incidents, the smallest remarks are aimed at emphasizing this fundamental doctrine. On July 3, to dissipate the sadness that invaded her, the patient said to her sister: “I need food for my soul; read me a Life of Saint. — "Do you want the Life of Saint Francis of Assisi, answers Celine?" It will distract you when he talks about the little birds. — No, not to distract me, but to see examples of humility. »

***

On Thursday, July 8, Thérèse left her cell for good. She was going down to the infirmary. Sister Geneviève, installed in an adjoining room, would watch over her more than ever and would only leave her during Office hours and to care for other patients. She was thus a privileged witness to this long agony, marked together by the crescendo of suffering and that of abandonment.

Brother Leo of Assisi was distressed to see the ascent of the soul of the Stigmatized of Alverne leaving him more and more distant from the one who was both his guide and his father. Thus, at certain times, Céline gives in to melancholy. But, less shy than “God's little sheep”, she opens up to her sister: “Do you believe that I can hope to be close to you in heaven? It seems impossible to me, it's like making a little penguin compete to catch what is at the top of a greasy pole. The Saint replied with a smile: "Yes, but if there is a giant there who takes the little penguin on his arm, lifts him up high and gives him the desired object?... Is that how it is?" what the good Lord will do with you, but you must not worry about it, you must say to the good Lord: "I know that I will never be worthy of what I hope for, but I hold out my hand to you like a little beggar and I am sure that you will answer me completely, because you are so good! »

Sister Geneviève faithfully recorded, to make it the basis of her spirituality, this new version of the “elevator”. With even more emotion she read the last written message that Thérèse had addressed to her: these few sentences which, on August 3, in a moment of great anxiety, the Saint traced for her in pencil, on a poor piece of paper: “O my God, how sweet you are for the little victim of your merciful Love! Even now that you add external suffering to the trials of my soul, I cannot say: "The anguish of death has surrounded me", but I cry out in my gratitude: "I have descended into the valley of the shadow death, yet I fear no evil, because you are with me, Lord. »

Besides, gaiety did not lose its rights at the bedside of the dying woman. She took care of it herself, not shrinking from a pun to cheer up those around her. Céline having declared about her: “I will not know how to live without her! she replies tit for tat: “So I will bring you two wings. »

Again to Sister Geneviève, who leaves her to recite the last little hour of the Office, she says in a mischievous tone: “Go say None, and remember that you are a very little nun, the last of the nuns. She did her best to comfort her, introducing, in her most serious remarks, terms borrowed from the skits they used to play at Les Buissonnets: "In Heaven, you will sit down next to me." — "My little Miss, I love you very much, and it is very sweet to me to be cared for by you." »

To her sister who, fearing that she might catch a cold, offered to get her to cover herself with one of those pieces of homespun that in the cloister are called "a little consolation", Thérèse replies kindly: "No, it's you who are my small consolation. She prolongs her role as Sub-Mistress of Novices to the point of agony: “You are very small, remember that, and when you are very small, you don't have nice thoughts. »

She herself, despite her contagious good humor, remains in the “tunnel”, subjected to the test of faith. Celine having named Heaven, she sighs: “Ah!... Tell me something about it. Sister Geneviève talks about it, in her candid and colorful way. “Oh! enough,” interrupts the Saint anxiously, plunged further back into the implacable night that obsesses her, without however succeeding in shaking her hope.

Céline writes to Mme Guérin: “The other day, I was reading to my little patient a passage on the beatitude of Heaven. She interrupted me to say, “That's not what appeals to me. - What ? I resumed. - Oh ! it's love ! To love, to be loved and to come back to earth. On another occasion, Sister Geneviève questioned the Saint: "You will be watching us from above, won't you?" — "No, I will come down." »

On August 16, Thérèse said to him: “The good Lord asked me if I wanted to suffer for you. I answered as soon as I wanted to. So when, until then, I had suffered only on the right side, the left, instantly, took hold with incredible intensity. From now on, we will call it “Céline's side”. Shortly after, the Saint adds, as if out of herself: “I am suffering for you, and the devil does not want to! He prevents me from taking the slightest relief, he holds me like an iron fist, he increases my pains so that I despair. »

On the eve of Thérèse's death, Sister Geneviève asked her if she should not go to Indochina in her place. "No," she retorted quickly. Everything is accomplished. It is love alone that counts. To Celine also, questioning her on what she said to Jesus, the sick woman made the admirable reply: "I don't say anything to him, I love him." »

In a moment of relaxation, the Saint had declared: “My little sisters, it will not hurt you if, in dying, my last look is for one of you and not for the other; I don't know what I'll do, it's what the good Lord wills. If he leaves me free, this last look will be for our Mother, because she is my Prioress. Céline is going to tell us what was the outcome on the day of September 30, 1897. looked up at me and looked at me with prophetic insistence. His gaze was filled with tenderness; at the same time he had a superhuman expression made of encouragement and promises, as if she had said to me: "Go, go, my Celine!" I will be with you. The Community present was as if in suspense before this grandiose spectacle, but suddenly our dear little Saint lowered her eyes to look for our Mother, who was kneeling beside her, while her veiled gaze resumed the expression of suffering that he had before. A little later she pronounced her last words: "My God, I love you", then there was ecstasy, the relapse and the last sigh.

“She had barely expired,” noted Sister Geneviève in Conseils et Souvenirs, “when I felt my heart split with pain and I rushed out of the infirmary. It seemed to me, in my naivety, that I was going to see her in the sky, but the firmament was covered with clouds, it was raining. Then, leaning on one of the pillars of the cloister arcade, I said, sobbing: "If only there were stars in Heaven!" I had barely said these words when the sky became serene again, the stars shone in the firmament, there were no more clouds! My uncle and my aunt Guérin, who were returning home with umbrellas, after spending all the time of our dear little Sister's agony in our chapel, were very surprised at this sudden change and they wondered and the other what it could mean. »

Celine took two photographs of the remains. The first, in the infirmary, the day after the death, just before the lifting of the body, kept the smiling reflection of the Saint's face. The second, three days later, when Thérèse was exposed to the choir in her flowery coffin, conferred on the frozen features an august grandeur and something like the majesty of the beyond.

Sister Geneviève inherited an even more touching memory. Having observed a pearly tear on her Therese's eyelids, she approached and picked up the precious relic on a handkerchief. Then, heartbroken, but invincibly convinced of the future of glory that opened up for her dear deceased, she understood both her loss and her treasure. Fifteen days later, a living flame, which traced a vast circle in the depths of the night sky, appeared to him as a posthumous manifestation of Thérèse's soul. This phenomenon, accompanied by a very lively inner grace, was felt with enough certainty for Céline to testify to it at the Trial.

On March 5, 1898, she experienced a favor of a different kind. At the end of her long retreat, she meditated on the passage from Zechariah: “What good and beautiful thing does the Lord have, if not the wheat of the elect and the wine that makes virgins sprout? As she affectionately reproached her sister for not having helped her during these exercises, she felt overwhelmed by an intimate sweetness that was escorted by the warmth of divine Charity.

4. In the wake of Teresian glory

Sister Geneviève did not have time to feel the immense void created by Thérèse's death. From beyond the grave, she continued to initiate him into the Way of Childhood; she made him penetrate all its secrets. She mobilized at the same time, for the influence of her doctrine, the talents of the young professed. Commissioned to illustrate the Story of a Soul, which would appear in 1898, Céline first resorted to the photographs, taken by her, of the Saint on her knees holding the images of the Child Jesus and the Holy Face, or still close to a cross, the rosary in hand.

What exactly were these documents worth? It is not inappropriate to raise this question, since it has been asked so many times, and not always with the impartiality and serenity required. All the professionals who have had the shots taken by Céline in their hands recognize their quality. It was able to make admirably good use of the equipment, altogether rudimentary, of the time and of the means of development available to it in a makeshift laboratory. The director of the film “The True Face of Saint Thérèse” expressed his admiring astonishment in this regard.

Father François de Sainte-Marie, in the Introduction where he presents to the public the album dedicated to the same theme, assessed very objectively the style of Sister Geneviève as a photographer, the "manner" in which she took the forty-one shots in which Therese figures either alone or in a group.

“In the taste of her time, he writes, Céline applied herself to composing the community groups or the attitude of the subjects she wanted to capture. She used all the possibilities that the monastery offered in terms of decor: the cloister, the cross in the courtyard, the various statues adorning the courtyards and gardens. All the attributes of the Carmelite woman of her time also figure in her compositions: the hourglass, the freshly cut fleur-de-lis, the rosary that is recited, the holy images that are held like a sign, the staff of the good shepherd, the sacred vessels and the various accessories of the sacristy. The operator also took advantage of the disguise of "Thérèse as Joan of Arc" prepared with makeshift means, for a small skit: wig, cardboard cuirass, and paper lily, fixed on the homespun dress... helmet , chain, jug of water (traditional attribute of the prisoner). A cross placed on the ground completes the staging.

“Although she was really gifted for composition, Céline did not know how to avoid the artificiality of the gazes oriented automatically, of the stereotyped gestures. Some poses of Thérèse on her knees are a little theatrical. Perfectly successful on the contrary, the photographs taken without any research and in a natural setting: recreation in the alley of the chestnut trees, the laundry, the hay, etc.

“If the frozen is sometimes added to the conventional, we can not blame the operator. The objectives of the time were not bright enough, the plates not sensitive enough; some poses lasted up to nine seconds. How do you stay yourself during all this time? The problem tortured photographers at a time when their art was still only a technique of posing and was busy immobilizing flowers, animals and people while impressionist painting was applied to seize the fleeting moment. »

The imperfections made inevitable by this fact suggested the use of retouching. Our Carmelite was thus led to closely review and correct the details deemed by her to be defective. However, she forbids herself — thanks be to her! — to operate on the negatives themselves, which allowed them to be used properly later on, even a certain revival authorized by modern processes.

Celine also believed—it was then a common opinion, even and especially among educated minds—that photography only gave a sclerotic image, from which expression was absent. We ignored the snapshot. The portrait alone seemed to him capable of translating a character into his deep attitudes. She therefore willingly acceded to the desire expressed to her to paint, for the second edition of the Story of a Soul, a bust portrait, the one that will be called the “oval” portrait or the “authentic” portrait. Made on original documents, it was judged, in the Carmel, of perfect fidelity. “It seems to me that I see her again,” exclaimed Sister Marie-Madeleine, Thérèse's novice. The Guérin family showed themselves to be less satisfied, but their testimony, which is not lacking in value, was no doubt influenced by the predominant memory of Thérèse's face in the world. Perhaps also he felt a certain annoyance at the noise made in Lisieux by the first miracles attributed to the young nun.

Celine had no fixed installation for her darkroom. As for the painting studio, reduced to the most basic equipment, it sat in the room adjoining Thérèse's cell, until it was transformed into the oratory of the Virgin of the Smile. He then emigrated to the Library, to the Chapter, then to half of the Sainte-Mechtilde cell. Our artist spent there all the free time left to her by her job as Sacristine. He had to provide for everything: decorations, backgrounds of woodwork, statues to be restored, nativity scenes, medallions, reliquaries, ornaments with multiple subjects, altar ornaments, hangings for repositories, programs, miniatures and trinkets of all kinds, frames, sticks of candle, banners or baskets. Certain disparaging remarks having been made about these special activities, Mother Marie de Gonzague took advantage, to cut them short, of the visit of the Bishop, Mgr Amette, on the occasion of a ceremony in honor of the Blessed Denys of Honfleur and Rédempt, both of the Order of Carmel. She presented him with the one who had produced the canvas depicting the Apotheosis. He showered her with praise and encouraged her, in front of the whole Community, to practice her art. Dating from this period, among a certain number of religious subjects, are the paintings or drawings representing Thérèse on her deathbed, Thérèse at the age of ten, Thérèse at the harp, Thérèse and her mother, Thérèse and her father.

Céline is already the workaholic who doesn't waste a minute. The job melts in his hands. She rarely appears in the visiting room. Mr. Guérin knows this, who pleasantly calls him “Monsieur le Minister” and entrusts Sister Marie of the Sacred Heart with his commissions. Here she is soon who, again at the request of the Bishop of Bayeux, writes, for the general public, to teach them the Way of Childhood, an Appeal to Little Souls, which will later become the Appeal to 'Divine love. It is a brochure of about thirty pages, which exposes in three parts the brief career of Thérèse in the world, the virtues which she practiced in the cloister, finally her illness and her death. It is made up essentially of quotations from the Story of a Soul, judiciously chosen, and linked by a limpid and unpretentious text, the objective being to steer minds and hearts towards the message of the Servant of God, whose his life was only the concrete illustration. Along with this publication, Céline collects her memories of the future Saint. Add to this her personal notes which were always very abundant, occasional poems, needlework, and we will understand the reflection of an old Sister saying to her naively: "If cats did not have eyes , you would do to them. »

At certain times, Céline is ready to cry out for mercy. “The good Lord, she writes, has always allowed that, in my life, nothing goes like clockwork, but that everything is snatched by a stubborn effort. How many times, going up the dormitory stairs, I read this sentence, written on the wall: “Today, a little work! Tomorrow, eternal rest! So, inwardly, I corrected: “Today, a lot of work! And in a very long time, alas! eternal rest! »

This activity was all the more meritorious since Sister Geneviève strictly followed the observances of the Community and had to face bitter internal struggles. In February 1899, in fact, she felt awakening, in her mind and imagination, her terrible temptations against chastity. At certain times, she notices in the depths of herself a kind of uprising of all the objections of the materialists. Heaven is closed to him; prayer seems to him arid and meaningless. She stiffened; she adheres to God with all her will, with all her faith. "The only favor I ask of you," she told him, "is never to offend you." She gives her resistance an apostolic significance. “The desire to save souls was my madness, she wrote of this period, and, compared to a single soul snatched from Satan, all my sorrows seemed like nothing to me. It was this hope that gave me courage. »

This state lasted for two years and three months, with peaks of paroxysm, notably on those days of April 24 and 25, 1901, when she responded to the bravado of hell: “It is Jesus who will win for me. She benefited, fortunately, from daily communion, Father Hodierne, who had replaced Father Youf, who died at the same time as Thérèse, having called on the powers granted by Leo XIII to the Community Chaplains in this area, and by using in the most liberal sense.

***

The ordeal subsided as a new and most exciting chapter opened in Céline's life. “My spiritual life, she was to say later, can be inscribed between two loves: my Thérèse and the Holy Face. The second would suddenly take on an unexpected development.

The image of the Holy Face, diffused by the holy man of Tours, M. Dupont, after the veil of Veronica kept at Saint Peter's in Rome, had excited the devotion of the Martin family, during the paternal illness. It did not, however, offer that character of nobility which one instinctively demands for the divine effigy. Marie Guérin did not hide her repugnance. Now, a few weeks after Thérèse's death, in a letter dated November 10, 1897, the King of Italy authorized the public display of the Shroud of Turin. In March 1898, the precious Relic was taken from its circular lead case. This is the occasion for pilgrimages and multiple publications. Mr. Guérin obtains Mr. Vignon's book, The Shroud of Christ, and passes it on to his niece, Céline, whose taste for photographic experiments he knows.

In the evening, in her cell, at the hour of silence, the nun unfolds the boards which reproduce in positive the negative form printed on the fabric soaked in aromatics. She remains silent with emotion. “He was indeed my Jesus, just as my heart had sensed him... And, seeking the traces of his pains, I followed through the wounds the imprint of the cruel crown of thorns. I saw the blood clot in the hair, then flowing in large drops. At the top of the head, on the left, we feel that the crown must have been torn off with difficulty. This effort kept the hair glued together by the blood stiff. The left eye appears to be slightly open, while the right is swollen. I saw the nose fractured in the upper part, the right cheek and the nostril swollen by the bellows of the valet, the beard all covered with blood... Then, unable to contain the feelings of my heart any longer, I covered this adorable Face with my kisses and watered it with my tears. And I took the resolution to paint a Holy Face according to this ideal that I had glimpsed. »

Sister Geneviève was not able to set to work until Easter 1904, and first executed a charcoal drawing. The publishing houses contacted represented that the reproduction would be defective. Better to make a grisaille in paint. She applied herself to it from 1905, at Easter time, devoting all her free time to it: Sundays, holidays and hours of silence. She worked standing up, which was torture for her, facing a life-size image of the Face of Christ, trying to follow the smallest threads of fabric and the corresponding traces with a magnifying glass. Sacrificing the siesta, she who needed so much sleep, she was content to lie down in a ball at the foot of her canvas, the last ten minutes, her head resting on her handkerchief rolled up in a ball: what she called "doing the dog ".

She mobilized all of Heaven to her aid, placing brushes and work each evening before the Virgin of the Smile, carrying, when she was alone, her painting before the Blessed Sacrament, as if to submit it to its divine rays. It also interested Saint Joseph, all the celestial militia, and his own family from above. When the effort was too hard, she thought of the Sorrowful Virgin at the top of Calvary. During these few months, it happened to her three or four times - whether it was the effect of an imagination haunted by her subject or of a privilege of choice rewarding such labor - to see in front of her, the space of one minute (“it was not the eyes of the body” she specifies) “the Face of Jesus suffering, of a striking beauty and clearness”.

The canvas finished, she took it to the Blessed Virgin “to give her the first fruits”. Then she had the inspiration to consult the Gospel and came across the verse of Saint Matthew: “All those who were there and who saw what was happening said: This is truly the Son of God”.

It was in fact an authentic masterpiece, to which, in March 1909, was awarded the Grand Prize at the International Exhibition of Religious Art in 's-Hertogenbosch, in Holland. The image, of undeniable majesty in its tragic realism, was popularized in millions and millions of copies. Placed under the eyes of Pius X, he gazed at her for a long time, murmuring several times: “How beautiful! He added with his usual kindness: "I want to give a souvenir to the little nun who did this," and he gave her a large bronze medallion on which her portrait was engraved in relief: which she appreciated, must- to say so, more than to be received at the Salon.

Thinking of her father's ordeal, the memory of which had haunted her during her many studio sessions, Céline would write: “Ah! I am not surprised to have succeeded in the Sorrowful Face of my Jesus. It has been said, I know, that only a pure soul had had the gift of reproducing such a beautiful face, and I still know that, to understand such wounds, it took a soul that bore their imprints. »

Sister Geneviève then painted from the Holy Shroud, and using the best-founded historical explanations, a Christ at the column and a crucified Christ. His notes, shot through with ardent conviction, frequently return to this theme of the Passion of the Savior and the establishment of his reign by the Cross. She went so far as to compose a project for an Office and a Mass in honor of the Holy Face.

Céline will always keep this cult religiously. On November 14, 1916, Mother Agnes of Jesus, Prioress in charge, authorized her to add to her name the term of the Holy Face. She will now sign, reversing the titles: “Geneviève of the Holy Face and of Saint Thérèse. She will choose the Transfiguration as her feast, loving to celebrate, in contrast to the suffering Face, the Face dazzling with glory. She painted a banner of the Holy Face, which she carried herself, each year, to a Community procession. From this fervor of love, her soul was wounded. She drew an unbreakable faith from it. “How, she writes, having had in my possession the Face of God, could I not present myself with assurance before the Face of God? Yes, since the Face of my Jesus is God himself made palpable to my gaze under a garment of flesh, "the Arc of the Mighty is broken, and the weak have strength for a belt (I Samuel, II, 4) ".

We feel piercing through these lines the vehement tenderness that Sister Geneviève dedicated to Christ. "God seduced me", she often repeated. — “God seized me and conquered me” (Cf. Jeremiah xx, 7). At the end of her days, when it comes to the question of the first astronautical exploits of the Soviets, she will write: “My devotion to the Holy Face is the summary of my devotion to the Holy Humanity of Jesus. I am the little satellite of his Humanity. Literally, she has, all her religious life, “revolved around Christ”. One of his first poems, on the anniversary of his Profession, sings him as his “Divine Model”. The one she composed for her fiftieth birthday takes up the theme:

To die while living for my Bridegroom Jesus.

At the Ascension of 1922, commenting on the hymn of Vespers, Jesu voluptas cordium, she goes in thought to all the places trodden by the footsteps of the Saviour.

I search, and I look, and I come back again,

Where I know how to see the same decor again

In which God placed his holy Humanity,

For I believe I grasp his ineffable imprint there.

Then she thinks that the new Palestine is Carmel, haunted by the divine Presence, and she proclaims it in verses that have a Lamartinian flavor.

O cloisters, o gardens! Land forever blessed!

You are for my heart all vibrating with harmony.

And you, evening star, silver disc moon,

That my only Friend often looked at,

I can watch you at night from my window,

And to think that his eyes saw you appear,

At a time when, prolonging his sublime prayer,

He asked for us, his brothers, forgiveness.

Sister Geneviève is not content with romantic impressions. The historical Christ is for her the first center of interest. At a time when exegesis remained a closed science, it forced entry into the cenacle. “All the work, she writes, has not prevented me from studying in depth everything that concerns the memories on earth of our Jesus. I scanned the places in Palestine where he had passed. It seems to me that I know the Holy Land as if I had lived there. She collects the views of Judea and Galilee; it constitutes four series of projections on the life of Christ, to present them to the Community. His commentary showed real erudition. With her usual meticulousness, she drew up, for her own use, a plan of Jerusalem, a layout of the circuit of the Passion, a diary and a detailed timetable of the events of Holy Week. On another site, she offers Mother Agnès of Jesus, for her feast, a box in which she has collected a sample of the twelve stones which make up, in the Apocalypse, the walls of the heavenly Jerusalem. Combining her memories of the Santa Casa de Loreto with the details gleaned from accredited authors, she made, with great ingenuity, a reproduction of the house of Nazareth, such as it must have been in the time of the Holy Family.

Sacred Scripture above all constitutes his field of exploration. “I will never be able to say, she notes, what she is for me. It seems to me that, if I lived until the end of the world, I would not need another book to guide and instruct me, because I would never exhaust it. I experienced this truth when, after having meditated on a passage, going deeper into each word, and, like a vigilant bee, I thought I had collected all the honey contained in the multiple chalices of this mysterious flower, I happened to discover other horizons there, other beauties, which I did not understand having been able to miss. »

At the end of her life, she will be delighted to have at her disposal, no longer a few chains of scriptural texts, as Thérèse had known them, but several complete Bibles, old and recent. However, she is intrigued by certain differences in form and even in meaning. “I realize that each author translates according to the idea he has of God. Doing this study of nuances interests me a lot, and I share my Thérèse's desire to know Hebrew, Greek, Aramaic, in order to translate the original texts according to what my heart feels about the true character. of the good God. She does not hesitate to consult an exegete to exhaust the intimate sap of such a questionable verse.

In June 1917, the Petite Somme Théologique de Saint Thomas came to hand. She harvests ten pages of quotations on Christ. “All that the Holy Doctor explains there, she writes in the introduction, is so well the expression of my thoughts that it seems to me that I have learned nothing about the substance. But I saw there that what I lack when I speak of Our Lord is the science of proper expression. So I humbly beg that you will not impute to me the involuntary errors that I may have committed in all that I have written, and to correct these pages if they are not burned. I repeat it here: I only believe and want to believe what my Mother the Holy Church believes and teaches. Until the end, the problems concerning the various sciences of Christ will solicit the attention of Céline. Faced with such an effort, one can only deplore - the regret is, it is true, anachronistic, because, at the time, we had no such worries - that it could not receive a methodical, exegetical culture and theological. His self-taught research, however, earned him a rich booty.

It should be added that, with Sister Geneviève, study turned spontaneously into prayer. She went there with all her faith, mixing prayer and reflection, begging the Holy Spirit to enlighten her, happy with the slightest light she received from it, and calming down in abandon where the mystery thickened. It cannot be said that she was a contemplative in the sense, dear to Saint John of the Cross, of the encounter in darkness. No doubt her mind was too inquisitive, too reasoning for that. But her incessant meditation on Scripture put her, with regard to Christ, in a state of deep union, from which sprang discoveries which populated her notebooks. She lives in the presence of Jesus. At the slightest infidelity, she experiences his silence painfully. "Everything is recorded in the heart," she admits. Oh ! how one should not allow oneself to be distracted from this sole occupation! He is her passion, her obsession. She readily considers him in the guise of a Knight of whom she is the Lady. “Put me under lock and key, O my Beloved,” she said to him, “because I am afraid of not remaining faithful to you. The Canticle of the Furnace, attributed to Saint Francis of Assisi, but which only expresses its soul in the accomplished style of Jacopone de Todi, moves Céline. On the occasion of her big birthdays, we sing to her, or the harmonium modulates for her the melodic phrase: “O Christ, you have ravished my heart. »

"Every morning," she wrote, "when I go to prayer, I see the dawn rising and I tremble with hope, for, as sure as the horizon is colored in my eyes, Jesus, asleep for the night of this life will rise, and its glory will shine upon me. It will no longer be the "pale morning star", bright but fleeting, that I will greet as I pass. No, Jesus whom I loved so much, my God whom I found in his Holy Humanity, He, my Sun, will never set again. He will be my eternal light and my glory...and all of that will happen soon. »

On September 8, 1900—the anniversary of a signal grace—Sister Geneviève wrote down these lines, which already looked like a testament. “O my Jesus... you know it, my desire has always been to love you and to make you loved. Unable to conceive of a love greater than that which was lavished on you by my Thérèse, my dream is to lavish it on you in my turn. Together, and on the same day, O Jesus, you accepted us for the little Victims of your Merciful Love. I was the first to follow her in her little Way. She opened the door and I rushed in after her... How far away is the day when I will hear the sound of your voice, when you will press me to your heart, when I will be able to see your Face and kiss your sweet Face, where forever I will sit with Therese on your lap? O Jesus, may I live and die of Love for you! »

In this walk towards Christ, Sister Geneviève leans on the Virgin. Thérèse's miraculous recovery marked her life. The statue traditionally venerated in the Martin family constituted for her a kind of sacred deposit. It was she who set up her oratory at the Carmel and who continued to provide for it until 1946. On several occasions, she received signal favors from Mary. “Last night, during the silence, she wrote on October 9, 1935, I

I felt ineffably united to my Heavenly Mother, I experienced an indefinable feeling that one does not dare to express. It seemed to me that the Blessed Virgin was from among us, that she was my sister, my friend; there was familiarity between us, a kind of equality, like family. Oh ! how sweet! This morning, during mass, I was still thinking about that, and it was sweet for me to make the connection between this grace and the feast of the Maternity of the Blessed Virgin, which we celebrate today. This is the third time in my life that my Heavenly Mother has visited me at First Vespers of this consoling Solemnity. »

Céline has her own very personal way of looking at Marie. She pushes Thérèse's reflections to the limit on the way in which she should be presented, accessible, affordable, imitable, living by faith like us. Her notes and her letters show her dialoguing and discussing, not without aplomb, with preachers and writers who unilaterally insist on the privileges of the Virgin, who place her in a separate order, to the point of seeming to cut her off from common humanity. . For her, the glory of Mary is ours. The whole human race is honored in the Immaculate Conception. As for the existence of the Mother of God, it unfolded at the same pace as that of most of the daughters of Eve: work, prayer, rest, study of the Holy Books, without blazing lights, without miracles of no gender: which makes her close to us and capable of sympathizing with our ills.

Sister Geneviève applauds the passages from the Philosophy of the Creed, where Father Gratry establishes the life of faith in Mary. She is delighted with The Life of Mary, Mother of Jesus by François Willam. On the other hand, she is without indulgence for such a speaker who made the pulpit of Carmel resound, on December 8, with “exclamation points”, as Thérèse said.

***

It will have been noted, in several places, that she had original positions and well-defined ideas on a certain number of subjects. She will have the opportunity to manifest it in the part she will take in the Canonization of Thérèse.

Things did not go by themselves. The Guérin family, who valued sanctity through medieval hagiography, opposed the introduction of the Cause. Mgr Lemonnier, the bishop of Bayeux, was reluctant. Bishop de Teil, who was to become Vice-Postulator, was not afraid to say: “At the Congregation of Rites, we no longer want to beatify cooking brothers”. This simple, limpid life, without sensational episodes, did not seem to affect the Ecclesiastical Judges. And yet, to the “rain of roses” responded the plebiscite of the crowds who wanted their “Sainte Petite Thérèse”. It was Mother Marie-Ange of the Child Jesus, elected Prioress on May 8, 1908, replacing Mother Agnès of Jesus, who obtained from the Bishop, as a gift of joyful advent, that the initial steps be taken. She was to die on November 11, 1909, so that Mother Agnès, resuming the charge never to leave her, would carry the heavy burden of her sister's rising glory.

On February 10, 1910, the Letter of Monsignor Lemonnier on the search for the writings of the Servant of God was published. On August 12, the first of ninety sessions takes place, during which forty-eight witnesses will be questioned. When Rome will have taken cognizance of the file and introduced the Cause, the Apostolic Process will open, which will require, from April 9, 1915, new depositions.

Thérèse's own sisters were obviously in the foreground. It was not an easy task to confront a tight network of questions, to avoid overlaps and repetitions, to place in good light the duly cataloged virtues. Held by the most rigorous secrecy, the interested parties could not enlighten or help each other. How did Sister Geneviève acquit herself of her task? A letter she wrote at the request of Mother Agnès of Jesus, on January 10, 1938, gives us delightful details on this. It deserves to be published, because our heroine is depicted in it as a whole.

"At the two Trials, when the Judges questioned me on the reason which made me desire the Canonization of my sister, I replied that "it was only to highlight the Little Way of Spiritual Childhood that she had taught us ".

"Then they took fright and, every time I said these words: 'Little Way', they jumped, and the Promoter of the faith, Mr. Dubosq, said to me: 'If you speak of the Way, you will make people miss the cause ; you know very well that that of Mother Chapuis was abandoned for this reason. »

" - Too bad ! I replied resolutely. If it fails, it will fail; but since I have sworn to tell the truth, I will bear witness to what I have seen and heard, come what may! »

“About the Heroicity of the Virtues, I didn't want to budge either, and I tried to situate them in their simple and imitable framework. It was all the more difficult to get people to accept, since at the first Trial — the Informative Trial — the members of the Ecclesiastical Tribunal were suspicious of the proposed Cause. These Gentlemen, who had constituted the Tribunal only out of condescension, were persuaded to find nothing to retain, as the Vice-Postulator, Mgr de Teil, confided to us later. But most often, I protested, I told them things like this: "That I would not allow Sister Thérèse of the Child Jesus to be classed in the gallery where custom lined up the other saints, that she had no practiced only simple and hidden virtues, and that one would have to get used to..."

"I wonder how I could have been so firm, I who, because of my shyness, had not wanted to pass my patents in the past, sure that I was confused and of not knowing anything in front of the examiners. The good Lord must have armed me for war, because it was one. Mr. Dubosq told me that I wanted to bring my sister back to my level.

And thereupon he told witty stories, which seemed to condemn me. »

As they were recorded, the depositions of Sister Geneviève, according to a Consultor of the Congregation of Rites, proved remarkable among all. They were centered on Spiritual Childhood, but also tended to emphasize the virtue of strength. In this regard, Céline makes this useful clarification. "I'm not thinking of 'fierce stubbornness'. With regard to this fanciful allegation by certain authors, it suffices for us to affirm that Thérèse, from her earliest childhood until her death, seemed to us, by her gentleness, her discreet calm, her full possession of herself. even, his silent and peaceful reserve, a celestial replica of the Virgin Mary. We might have thought her "confirmed in grace", which was declared to us by her confessors themselves. »

The increased work caused by these events had somewhat damaged the health of our Carmelite. In 1911, she was attacked by a double pulmonary congestion; in February 1915, from laryngitis from which his vocal cords would suffer for a long time. Nevertheless, she is still on the go. It is she who will attend, on August 10, 1917 - one can guess with what emotion! — at the second exhumation of Thérèse's remains, in the cemetery of Lisieux. Sometimes the consolations mingled with the pain. On several occasions, she smelled around her penetrating perfumes betraying an invisible approach. This happened to him in particular on February 5, 1912, the anniversary of his Taking the Habit, the day on which the diocesan process was filed in Rome. This phenomenon was repeated on March 17, 1915, when she commemorated her Taking of the Veil, and which saw the opening of the Apostolic Process.

On August 14, 1921, Benedict XV promulgated the Decree on the Heroicity of Virtues. In response to the address of thanks given by the Bishop of Bayeux and Lisieux, he gave a panegyric to Thérèse, entirely focused on Spiritual Childhood, which was presented as "the secret of holiness, not only for French, but for all the faithful spread all over the world”. In a very thorough analysis, based on the Gospel texts and on the examples of the Carmelite, the Pope showed how Spiritual Childhood is made of humility, trust and abandonment. “The more the new heroine of virtue will be known, he concluded, the greater will also be the number of her imitators who will give glory to God, by practicing the virtues of Spiritual Childhood. » — « In the concrete case of Sister Thérèse, it is appropriate to recognize a special will of God to exalt the merits of Spiritual Childhood. »

Sister Geneviève of the Holy Face uttered a cry of triumph: "I have never, she writes, experienced such great and profound joy as on August 14, 1921, at the announcement of the masterful speech of Benedict XV, that Enthusiastic telegrams told us that they had exalted "the little Way of Spiritual Childhood", at the same time as the Heroicity of the Virtues of Thérèse. It was the victory such as I had desired, without daring to hope for it so complete. The beatification and canonization themselves did not bring me such intense happiness. »

Céline nonetheless communicated, in thought, to the grandiose celebrations which filled the Eternal City on April 29, 1923 and May 17, 1925. the enclosing walls sometimes seemed like a dream to him. On November 25, 1925, she wrote: "Finding myself in the garden, at the hermitage of the Holy Face, I saw again the humiliations which had been our share and that of our dear Father: parents moving away from us, apologizing to be part of our family, friends and acquaintances who said among themselves: “What was the use of his piety? He bears the weight of his own sacrifices, and the impious sneer, because of him, at the lamentable end of the just. And it seemed to me that then the good Lord had said to his angels: "Write", and I saw one of them tracing this on a register, following the word: "Must". Since then, years and years had passed. Is the Almighty behind on his accounts? At that moment, I raised my eyes and I saw on the cross of the dome of Carmel the little sparkling star... All the feasts of the Canonization of our Thérèse were summed up there, and I heard these words in the ear of my heart, words pronounced with an inexpressible paternal tenderness: “Are you happy? » Then, a flood of gratitude came over me completely, and, with tears in my eyes, I could only repeat with love: « O my God! »

The day of the Canonization was for the posthumous action of Thérèse less an apotheosis than a new raising of the curtain. Proclaimed by Pius XI Patroness of the Missions on December 14, 1927, she increasingly extended her influence to the entire world. In Lisieux, it is necessary to open an immense mail, to collect the memories, to arrange the sanctuaries, to receive the visitors, to diffuse the Teresian message. It is the joint work of the Carmel and the Work of the Pilgrimage, entrusted to the competent and tireless zeal of its young director, Abbé Germain. Appointed Prioress for life by the Pope on May 31, 1923, Mother Agnès of Jesus faced an overwhelming task with ease. Sister Geneviève actively assists her. She is not in charge. She has only sat in the Chapter since 1915, and on the intervention of a Superior of the Order. They had kept her away, like Therese herself, to avoid having more than two members of the same family there. It is through her skill that Céline stands out. Relieved of all employment, except that of photography, she devotes herself entirely to work concerning Thérèse and her cult. She takes the capital part in the writing of her biography for children, published under the name of Father Carbonel, a very simple life in tone, illustration, pace, as required by the public to which it was addressed, but which contained some new and tasty details.

The publication of the Small Catechism of the Act of Offering held the attention of Sister Geneviève, who collaborated closely with Mother Agnès of Jesus. She was the first to initiate this oblation, with an emphasis that was quite new in the spirituality of the time, and she intended not to allow its deep meaning to be altered. It was necessary all together to remove the dangers of illuminism, to maintain in this approach its value of total gift, and not to forbid access to it to the soul of goodwill, whatever its weakness. It was also important to insert it into its rank within the framework of Spiritual Childhood, not as a distant crowning achievement and a reserved summit, but as a basic element and a centerpiece. The notion of Merciful Love required some clarification. The words Victim and Holocaust needed interpretation, so as not to excite too vivid imaginations and not to frighten the humble: hence the need to bring these words back to their proper Teresian meaning. Thus conceived, the brochure devotes seventeen questions and answers to defining the Act of Offering in its general scope and in its terminology, the following fourteen specifying the duties and the hopes of the soul which gives itself up. Since then, this subject has given rise to an abundant literature in which scholars project at will the beams of clarity of dogmatic and mystical theology. The modest writing in which Céline and Pauline put the best of themselves nevertheless retains all its value. He continues to guide in Thérèse's footsteps the simple and the "poor", in the sense of the Beatitudes.

Also for the use of the latter, appeared the Little Way, which, in 31 pictures, commented on by as many stanzas, expressed the ascent of the Saint to the summit of perfection and invited to imitate her. While Mother Agnès of Jesus provided the text, Sister Geneviève, with the help of an outside draftsman, actively took care of the allegorical compositions. The taste of our contemporaries calls for more stripping and prefers the authentic. This publication, however, had its moment of success; it continues to do good to those who, careless of art and fashion, seek inspiration and comfort in pious illustration. The same must be said of La Vie en images which retraces in easy stanzas, accompanied by photographs and paintings, the entire Teresian itinerary. Celine, again, had to bear the brunt of the effort. Minor works, no doubt, but which contributed powerfully to making known and loved the Saint of Lisieux.

In 1918, Sister Geneviève got down to work on a large scale, which would express the spirit of Thérèse and her major orientations. It required an exhaustive and, so to speak, experimental knowledge of the soul of the Servant of God, of her life, of her writings, of her doctrine. It was no small ambition. Céline works hard at it for several years, until she is, at certain times, overwhelmed by it, inventorying, checking, copying, classifying, grouping together, lived facts, episodic remarks, quotations, borrowed either from the autobiography, to letters and poetry, either to the Novissima Verba, or to his own notes and the testimonies of his colleagues. How to clear such a forest? What avenues to trace there? From what angle should the lighting be considered?

Sister Geneviève found support and guidance in M. Dubosq, Priest of Saint-Sulpice, then Superior of the Major Seminary of Bayeux, and who had acted as Promoter of the Faith in the informative and apostolic Process for the Teresian Cause. On his advice, she abandoned her project of centering everything on the virtue of strength and took as her axis the supreme notion of the love of God.

The book would be presented as a mosaic of anecdotes and texts, including precise references in the margins. The author would limit himself to choosing, introducing and connecting the pieces, in accordance with an overall plan. It was a matter of stepping aside to let Therese speak for herself. The genre was not without pitfalls. History offers many examples of disciples who imperceptibly take the place of the master, sorting out his heritage, appealing to his thoughts, giving the documents themselves the decisive flick at the opportune moment. Céline, so personal, so determined, wouldn't she give in to temptation? Wouldn't it happen to him to succumb to it without his knowledge?

She fiercely avoided it, believing that it would have been more than intellectual dishonesty, an unpardonable crime against Thérèse and the mission with which she was invested. She even prefers to run the risk of a certain hesitation in the synthesis, rather than violating the scattered elements, by forcibly imposing her own construction. At most, she allows herself, here and there, to slip in, in support of the proposed theses, three or four sentences picked up by her from Ruysbroek, Bossuet, Mgr Gay. Knowing his ardent temperament, his curious and original intelligence, his gift of development finally, one can only estimate at a high price the voluntary servitude of such asceticism of the pen.

The first edition — it was followed by many others — was published in 1923, for the Beatification, under the title: The Spirit of Blessed Thérèse of the Child Jesus according to her Writings and the Eye Witnesses of her life. Four chapters, totaling 225 pages, showed how the love of God had fertilized the existence of the young Carmelite, shone through her comings, culminated in Spiritual Childhood, to result in incomparable fruits of joy, peace and bliss. Along the way, the accent was placed on the key notes that characterize the Little Way: humility, confidence, abandonment, simplicity.

A Preface by Cardinal Vico, Prefect of the Congregation of Rites, underlined the merit of the work. It read in particular: “I greatly appreciate the serious and methodical form of this work on the spirit of the Blessed. We logically deduce from this the characteristic of his interior life, which is the love of God, serving as the basis of all his edifice of perfection. Hence a marvelous fecundity in an apparently quite ordinary existence. None of those features that throw you into amazement, but the most solid virtue, hidden under the exterior of a ravishing simplicity. We find in these pages the very substance of the Trial, where, in the smallest details, heroism is revealed. »

As soon as it appeared, the book was a great success. Completed by an analytical table which will facilitate its use, it will become the mine of choice from which writers, preachers, panegyrists will largely draw, while historians will glean from it - at least before the updating of the original manuscripts - features hitherto unknown, and that pious souls will never tire of meditating on its lessons. The eminent Abbé de la Trappe de Sept-Fons, Dom Chautard, himself the renowned author of L'Ame de tout Apostolat, wanted L'Esprit to be printed in pocket format, like L'Imitation de Jesus Christ.

As for Sister Geneviève of the Holy Face, she was not totally satisfied with a job that had literally harassed her. On her dying bed, she will reproach herself for having insisted too little on humility, which is at the heart of Spiritual Childhood. It will be necessary to reassure her by quoting a few extracts where this virtue is clearly shown.

This vast labor—and that's why it seemed overwhelming to her—she hadn't been able to devote herself to it at leisure, in complete serenity. He also had to provide for the filing of the archives. She noted down the smallest details of the beautiful Theresian adventure, collected and copied those which emanated from Mother Agnès of Jesus and Sister Marie of the Sacred Heart, kept up a vast correspondence: which, in addition to her personal notes and notebooks - often provoked by a formal desire for Authority—constitutes an immense literature that makes one dizzy. In the meantime, especially for the feast of the Prioress, or to better fix some intimate emotion, she tried her hand at poems which allow themselves a few licenses, but lack neither breath nor a certain happiness of expression.

She had so many ingenious ideas and so much practical sense that Mother Agnès of Jesus often relied on her when it came to the work to be undertaken or supervised. Two illustrated albums, written on the order of her sister, enumerate, with useful notations for the future, all that she has achieved in the various fields. We remain amazed. Recovery and enhancement of everything that had belonged to Thérèse and her family, layout and transformations of the Carmel and its Chapel, purchase and restoration of the Buissonnets, the Pavilion and the Birthplace of Alençon, exhibition of souvenirs at the exterior sacristy or in the interior rooms known as the Gloria and the Magnificat, concern for the layout of the premises, the furniture, the illustration of the books and brochures, sacred vessels, reliquaries, church linen, liturgical ornaments, tombs to be maintained , relations with the Central Office; one wonders how, in her cloistered life, Sister Geneviève of the Holy Face had the time to assume so many responsibilities.

With unmistakable precision and decision, she confronts notaries, architects, artists and contractors. She always has some plan to back it up, and also some quip. Seeing a project for a support for flags, in the Carmel Chapel, with one word she executes it: “It's perfect for men to hang their hats on. We fear her a little for her intransigence, but she seasons conversations with so much good humor! All pay homage to his organizational gifts as well as to his power of work. In all these planning tasks, she helps Sister Marie-Emmanuel de Saint Joseph, depositary, who was to follow her so closely to the tomb, and whom she praised, in a letter to Léonie, with the equality of humor and the fraternal sense of collaboration, the prodigious and orderly activity, united to all the specifically religious virtues.

It should be noted that in 1929 Sister Geneviève was introduced into the Council of the Community, of which she remained a member until her death.

She has not, however, deserted her brushes. The album in which she recounts her productions in this area betrays the same conscience and the same overflowing zeal. She only has short one-hour sessions, which hinders inspiration by breaking up the work. She nevertheless produced a whole series of works which represent Thérèse as a sacristan, in first communion, in the midst of her Carmelite sisters, with the Child Jesus. She paints herself by his side. We should especially mention the painting—which gave him great difficulty because of certain visual problems—of Thérèse covering her crucifix with roses. This subject, executed in 1912, was provoked by the Postulation's desire to conform to the custom of awarding a symbolic attribute to the Servants of God. Then will come the little Apotheosis of the Beatification, then of the Canonization and how many others!

Sister Geneviève was not insensitive to the criticisms that the censors from outside multiplied against her. Obviously, his tastes must be assessed at the level of an era. It had its guns, which the enclosure had not contributed to renewing. He always lacked that high artistic culture that his father, for a moment, wanted to give him.

In any case, she made noble use of her gifts, which were real. Some experts, brought face to face with one or other of his canvases, have praised their craftsmanship; they claimed that the author had talent.

In the Introduction already quoted, the late Father François de Sainte-Marie recognizes that the will, often reproached to Céline, to embellish her model was basically only the desire, in itself quite legitimate, to go and join and to express, under the veil of an extremely mobile physiognomy, what was eternal in this ideal soul. He regrets that such an effort, where triumphant portraitists of genius, a Velasquez, a Hans Holbein, a Quentin de La Tour, a Gainsborough, did not have here at its service the profession nor the aesthetic culture that it demands. . These reservations made, he nevertheless pays homage to the work thus elaborated:

“These images, Thérèse used them, however, in order to make herself present to people all over the world, to penetrate even into the huts of the bush, the tents of the nomads, the igloos... and to exert her beneficent influence there.

“As such, Céline's portraits deserve our respect. They will always belong to the religious folklore of humanity and will still arouse an interest in future centuries, so true that he has at his disposal, tries not himself to appear, but to "respond" to the word by a word, to the question by an action and to the Creator by a creation", enters into the plan of God and the work of salvation.

“A renowned theologian was not afraid to write, a few ages ago: “The well-known portrait of the Saint, which first attracted attention and sympathy, and which inaugurated the conquest of so many souls, if it contributes to bringing about conversions, it is because it is infinitely peaceful at the same time as singularly profound. »

         (Claudel. Positions and Proposals. Gallimard, Paris 1935, p. 203.)

(P. Petitot in his Integral Life of Saint Thérèse of Lisieux. Editions de la Revue des Jeunes, Paris 1925, p. 6.)

5. Rays and shadows on Carmel

The global extension of the cult of Saint Thérèse, the development of pilgrimages, forced to consider the construction of a building capable of sheltering large crowds. On a dry hill, consolidated and pierced by cement wells reaching a depth of twenty-two meters, a Basilica will rise, the first stone of which was laid on September 30, 1929. Sister Geneviève followed the work with passion. She was adept at deciphering plans and confronting them with reality. It was she who prepared the drawings which inspired the sculptors who built the two Stations of the Cross, that of the apse of the Sanctuary, that of the Crypt.

We also had to think of the “Spiritual Basilica”, as Canon Germain said when he was building the Ermitage Sainte-Thérèse. Sister Geneviève provided for this, for her part, alongside Mother Agnès of Jesus, working to spread the Teresian message. At the Council of the Community, she supported with all her power the initiatives, of which the Central Office was the instrument, in terms of editions, publications, doctrinal influence. In this spirit, she accepted the servitude of a vast correspondence, which put her in contact with a certain number of renowned personalities, both in France and in Rome, across the Channel and across the Atlantic. Sister Geneviève found it more difficult to bear the visits to the parlor and the interviews imposed on her by certain ecclesiastical dignitaries admitted to the cloister. Being "treated like a curious animal," as she said, made her cringe. She never got used to it, less flexible in this than Mother Agnes of Jesus, who had the sweetness of her name. He was supremely displeased to count as a "great attraction" for the eminent personages occasionally introduced inside.

There were other causes of trouble. Extremely sensitive to everything related to Thérèse: Pilgrimage, Shrines, biographies, statuary, portraits, she suffered from the nagging criticisms unleashed at Carmel in certain circles. Even more than an insulting suspicion towards the sisters of the Saint, she saw in it as the profanation of a memory and the violation of a doctrine. Only the spirit of the "Little Way" succeeded in reassuring her. “I cannot say,” she confides to Mother Agnès, “what gratitude I have for the good God who, like Jesus, made us go through humiliation. I will bless him for it, I feel it, all eternity. From here below I thank him for it in the joy of my soul. I believe there are no graces above that. Ecstasies, miracles, seem like junk to me. Moreover, I shudder with happiness as I go over everything in my life that has been able to bring me down, everything that has contributed to

humiliate me, even my faults, because they cannot disfigure who uses them to love more. »

From Rome came substantial compensations. Pius XI, the Pope of genius with “intrepid faith”, had made Thérèse the Star of his Pontificate. Grateful to the Saint of Lisieux for having miraculously cured him, he thought for a moment of coming to thank her, on the spot. For the solemn inauguration of the Basilica on July 11, 1937, he sent as Legate his closest collaborator, the Cardinal Secretary of State himself.

Meeting Cardinal Pacelli was an unforgettable event for Céline. In his Speech, he had said in particular: “Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus has a mission, she has a doctrine. But his doctrine, like his whole person, is humble and simple; it is contained in these two words: Spiritual Childhood, or in these two other equivalents: Little Way”. Vibrant was the joy of Sister Geneviève on hearing these affirmations which joined her deepest conviction.

On July 12, it was quite another thing, when the Legate visited the Community. It takes Celine's pen to translate this scene without deflowering it.

“Shortly after Cardinal Pacelli's mass in the infirmary, I prepared to photograph him in the cloister. Alone with him, I discreetly asked him to strike a pose under the arch I pointed to, and the operation being completed, I approached to thank him. His Eminence then addressed a few good words to me, congratulating me on being the sister of the little Saint. I told him my age, which surprised him.

Then, taking his hand with respect and kissing it as if it were that of the future Pope, I said to him: “Eminence, it is you who will be Pope after Pius XI, I am sure of it. I pray for that. »

“He replied with a deep air: “Rather ask for me the grace of a good death. It is what is most precious. May the good Lord have mercy on me and soften this supreme hour. »

“I resumed immediately: “When one walks in the little Way of Spiritual Childhood of our Saint little Thérèse, there is only room for trust. She said that “for the children, there would be no judgement, and that one could remain a child even in the most formidable charges. Besides, the good Lord doesn't want you to die yet; you will have so much good to do when you are the Vicar of Jesus Christ. »

“Then he seemed pensive and said to me with extreme gentleness: “No, there are obstacles to that; it is not likely. »

“At this moment, we were interrupted. But this interview left me with an indelible memory. »

On March 2, 1939, when the voice of the waves informed the universe of the election of Pius XII, Sister Geneviève of the Holy Face recalled with emotion the dialogue in which she had played the prophet.

***

On that date, Europe, as if taken by a collective hallucination, rushed towards the second world conflagration. The decisive events were not long in unfolding: invasion of Poland, mobilization, hostilities.

The alarming news coming from all sides detaches Céline more and more from the earth. She longs for eternity. She sees herself there preceded by her elders. For a long time already, Sister Marie of the Sacred Heart, prey to articular rheumatism, only knew the infirmary and the car where they put her to move her. Sister Geneviève kept him company during recess. She had the art of interesting this generous but independent soul, for whom immobility constituted the worst of tortures. On a certain day she had invoked the example of the heroic courage of Mr. and Mrs. Martin and quoted in support this saying of the Macchabee brothers: “Oh! let's not sully our glory, let's not let it be tarnished! », the moved « dear Godmother », said of her to her devoted nurse: « Did you hear her! How eloquent! What a beautiful soul she has! Little Therese had guessed it, even through her faults. And Father Pichon, who often said to me: “Your Céline is a vase of choice! » Sister Marie of the Sacred Heart expired gently, in her eightieth year, on January 19, 1940. The morning of her death, and in the octave of the last night, Sister Geneviève, flooded with mysterious perfumes, understood how much « the death of the saints is precious before God”.

She then became, in place of the deceased, Léonie's main correspondent. It wasn't for long. Sister Françoise-Thérèse died on June 16, 1941, at the Visitation in Caen. She was about to turn seventy-eight. Céline, who envied the fate of the disappeared, repeated the Norman saying about them, which her father once hailed the vocation of each of his daughters: "Another shot from under the cart." She immediately added: "When will it be my turn?" »

The collapse of the Allied armies under the onslaught of German air force and armour, the occupation of most of the territory, the national humiliation, the insolent triumph of Hitler's force, bruised the ardent soul of our Carmelite. In this deluge of fire and blood, will Lisieux be spared? On May 31, 1940, Sister Geneviève confided to Mother Agnès of Jesus her impressions and the reactions of her faith: "Humanly, all seems lost, and we have the right to ask ourselves what will become of us and of the relics of which we are the guards. From us, it matters little, because it would be a great good for us to be transported to the eternal shore towards which all our thoughts tend. But our treasures, I mean the remarkable relics of our little Thérèse? For a long time, I worried about them and I suffered great anxieties about them. Now, I don't worry about it anymore... The time has come when our little Thérèse is loved in spirit and in truth. There is therefore no real need for what our senses touch and see. »

Céline is no less painfully in mourning for France. Mr. Martin's patriotism lives on in her. Nothing cocky, however. No complacency towards naive theses which, steeped in national pride, invoke the past of our country, "soldier of God throughout history", to endow it in Heaven itself with a sort of credit account. Sister Geneviève meditated on the destiny of Empires and their precariousness. "I think," she writes, "that if the good Lord chastises us, it is because we are dear to him... France is very guilty, and consequently very sick." Since he has resolved to let her operate, it is a mercy... I beg him to kindly extend his arm to save us, not because of our merits, but because of his goodness. I say this because I am shocked when I hear France's virtues praised excessively, as if, because of them, God were our debtor. I would much rather see the just, with all their justice, follow the advice of Our Lord by confessing to themselves “useless servants” and humbly stretching out their hands. Collective pride, often unconscious or admitted with extreme lightness, appears to Céline as the most incurable form of Pharisaism. "France," she said again, "is humiliated, and this humiliation is a greater grace to her than the victory which would have intoxicated her." »

In this period of contemplation when the scarcity of war interrupted the work, when pilgrimages and correspondence were themselves put on the back burner, Sister Geneviève did not remain inactive. Rummaging through her archives, and bringing to life in her memory, which had remained surprisingly young, the precise detail, the lived anecdote, the trait of manners, she brought together the abundant documentation which would allow the publication of the History of a Family. The cult she had for her father encouraged her to deny by facts the slight or malevolent insinuations which surrounded his memory. When the work was written, she took a keen interest in the abundant illustration intended to enhance the text. This book was truly his.

Other concerns were not long in imposing themselves. The Allied landing at Arromanches quickly placed Lisieux in the combat zone. From June 6 to August 22, 1944, dozens of bombardments destroyed two thousand one hundred buildings out of two thousand eight hundred, knocked down, with two churches, most of the religious houses, and killed more than a tenth of the population. On the evening of June 7, fire devoured the residence of the Chaplains and the Central Office, threatening Carmel and the Chapel. It was necessary to seek in the Crypt of the Basilica a less precarious shelter. Leaning on the arm of one of her Sisters, Sister Geneviève slowly took the path up the hill. She was peaceful and calm. "As I can't do anything about it, I don't worry. If our whole Monastery disappears, its spirit will remain. As much as she worried, even in the little things, where it was on her initiative, so much she showed herself detached when events rested in the hand of God alone. That's what she said, a few days later, when a Lexovian announced that a new fire was inevitably reaching Carmel. “It is no longer up to us; surrender to the Lord for all that he will permit. He always had pity on us. We can trust him. In fact, each time the scourge approached, a gust of wind removed the danger. It was as if an invisible hand had saved the sacred island made up of the Carmel, the Maison Saint-Jean and the Hermitage from destruction.

The Carmelites had settled at the top of the Crypt, in the chapel on the right, dominated by a reproduction of the Virgin of the Smile. A hundred people, sometimes increased by passing contributions, shared the rest of the sanctuary. Despite the discomfort of the place and the sinister Matins sung by shells and bombs, one can believe that the presence of the Sisters of Saint Thérèse did not go unnoticed. “These ruins would benefit from remaining a mystery,” said Sister Geneviève with a pout, as this excess of interest was extremely tormenting. She opens up about it to Mother Agnès of Jesus, in this post dated July 7:

“After fifty years of hermit life, to find myself suddenly uprooted and thrown into the middle of the world, veil lifted, it is for me, who am so savage, a real martyrdom. It seems to me to be in a station where everyone hurries, mixes. We sleep on the benches, fully dressed; meals are taken standing up, hastily, in the dark; we gaze with astonishment and sadness on feminine fashions devoid of all dignity.

“But that's not what makes my life so hard, it's the visits! Everyone wants to see the Sisters of Saint Thérèse and comes in turn to greet us; we are pointed at. Oh ! this, this! little Mother, I can bear it no longer. It seemed to me, these days, that the annoyance I felt would make me sick, and I called on God to help me.

a For a moment, I revolted, then, during the Office, I thought gently of this passage from the Holy Gospel: “Several Gentiles who had come to Jerusalem to adore approached Philip and asked him: “Lord, we would like to see Jesus! Philip went to tell Andrew, then Andrew and Philip told Jesus. — That's what happens to us all the time, they come and tell us the same thing!

“So I have resolved to do like Jesus and no longer withdraw myself from those who wish to see me, even if there is importunity on their part.

“That will not prevent me from repeating after Him: “Father, deliver me from this hour. » But I am convinced that, like Him, « it is to live this hour », that I have come here. Yes, I'm sure I needed this test at the end of my life. »

Sister Geneviève, accustomed to handling notes, notebooks, files, finds herself, for the moment, completely destitute and exposed to losing all of the meticulously accumulated wealth. "But what does it matter," she said. I deeply feel that all this is nothing, nothing. What is, it is the intervention of God, it is only his grace; and there is no need for writings for it to penetrate a soul and enlighten it. A small renunciation practiced in the shadows will open the source. »

Throughout this “vision of the Apocalypse”, there are all the same intermissions of consolation. Mother Agnès and Sister Geneviève, forgetting their age, took advantage of the clearings in the military situation to go to Les Buissonnets and the cemetery. They returned several times to their dear Carmel and even climbed to the top of the dome of the Basilica, under the guidance of Bishop Germain.

More significant comfort, on June 13, a messenger from Cardinal Suhard had transmitted to the Prioress a copy of the Pontifical Brief, dated May 3, 1944, declaring Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus, secondary Patroness of France. Céline, always curious, wondered how the “little Queen” could restore such a devastated country. “But in the time of Joan of Arc, she exclaimed, France was very low too. Saint Michael said to him: “There is great pity in the Kingdom of France! And I was filled with hope and confidence. »

Multiple steps were taken to get the Carmelites to agree to be evacuated with the relics of their Saint. Gently, but firmly, they refused, and, after the horrors of the last days, it was in procession, escorting the Shrine, that they returned to their cloister on Sunday, August 27, through the rubble of the liberated city.

***

Conventual life resumed without delay, in the midst of the necessary restorations. Sister Geneviève found her pen and brushes. At the age of seventy-six, she will paint portraits of Thérèse, in medallions on silk, for three chasubles which will appear at her Jubilee of Profession.

Céline was preparing, in fact, to celebrate the half-century, heavy with history, which had passed since the issuance of her vows. On October 8, 1944, from Carmel still bruised by her recent wounds, she wrote to a Roman prelate who was a confidant for her. Of so many memories rich in glory, she wants to remember only her own misery.

“If I consider where I am, I realize that I have not gone up, but gone down... And there, I enjoy an astonishing peace, even though it is at night. I make this passage from a prayer of Saint Thomas Aquinas my own: “... From time to time, Lord, you pull me out of my lethargy, but alas! these are only passing visits. I don't know if you love me, if I love you... I don't even know if I live by faith! I find in myself only infidelity, only beginnings without follow-up, only sacrifices without plenitude... and, however, I aspire to you!..."

" Oh ! yes, me too, but I am not discouraged and, for many years, I have been comforted by this verse from Psalm 62 that we recite at Lauds on Sundays: “O God, my God! in this arid land where I find myself and where there is neither path nor water, I presented myself before you, as in your Sanctuary, to contemplate your power and your glory. Because your mercy is better than all lives. »

“I feel this so deeply that, when I am imperfect, although regretting it, I quiver with happiness at the thought that the mercy of the good God is preferable to all lives. I call "Lives", perfection, the possession of virtues, spiritual consolations, and "Death" the state where I am, in this desert land, without road and without water, a state which does not however prevent me from to approach God with assurance, as if I were perfect, because I know it, I feel it: "His mercy is better than all 'lives'.

"...Yes, I rely only on the mercy of the good God, on his pity, I want to arouse his pity by my poverty, because I know that in this way, I will have gained everything..."

She often returns to this theme, willingly seasoning it with verve and familiar phrases. On several occasions come back to his pen formulas like these: “I feel like the queen of the imperfect. My kingdom is extremely vast, and I have subjects by myriads, but, whatever they do, they cannot reach the preponderance of their queen in this matter... In her skin the fox will die. Fortunately, these words of my little Thérèse console me: “You just have to humble yourself, to put up with your imperfections gently. This is true holiness for us. »

It was on February 24, 1946 that Sister Geneviève of the Holy Face celebrated her fifty years of religious profession. La Chapelle du Carmel had difficulty in containing the crowd of its friends. The Apostolic Nuncio, Msgr. Roncalli, presided over the ceremony. He insisted on handing over the crown and the symbolic staff himself. Monsignor Picaud, Bishop of Bayeux, gave the speech where he finely analyzed the brotherhood of soul between Thérèse and Céline, with its providential extensions in the beyond. He alluded to the recent publication of Histoire d'une Famille and, in his midday toast, publicly expressed the wish that Mr. and Mrs. Martin would one day be glorified.

During the visit to the Monastery, the future Pope showed exquisite kindness for Sister Geneviève. Pleasantly playing with the jubilee staff she was carrying, he said to her: “Go ahead of us, little Joan of Arc. And she took the lead of the ecclesiastical procession which traversed the conventual premises, notably those which evoke memories of the Saint or which collect her relics. Pope Pius XII had the extreme delicacy to send the jubilee his Blessing, inscribed at the bottom of an artistic watercolor bearing, with his own medallion, three images of Celine: standing near Thérèse at the foot of Calvary, then painting the Holy Face, finally kissing the hand of Cardinal Pacelli.

Sister Geneviève showed herself to be even more sensitive to this passage from the autograph letter that the Pope sent for the fiftieth anniversary of Thérèse's death, on August 7, 1947, and in which he speaks of Spiritual Childhood: "Several people imagine that it This is a special way reserved for innocent souls of young novices to guide them only in their first steps and it is not suitable for already mature people who need a lot of prudence, given their great responsibilities. This is to forget that Our Lord himself recommended this way to all the children of God, even to those who have, like the apostles whom he formed, the highest responsibility, that of souls. »

This pontifical testimony was all the more precious since at that time a book of good intentions, but hastily composed by a talented novelist who had nothing to do with a historian, risked disfiguring the face of Thérèse in the general public. , as well as his message. This work was added to a whole series of articles and biographies which unilaterally exploited, by isolating it from its context, a collective deposition made at the Thérésien Trial. This resulted in blackening Carmel, hardening Thérèse, twisting her doctrine in a direction not exempt from heterodox infiltrations.

Mother Agnès of Jesus and Sister Geneviève protested with all their conviction as direct witnesses. They will no less vigorously reject all interpretations which tend to minimize the Spiritual Childhood. In view of their approaching death, Sister Geneviève wrote, on February 2, 1950, a text which was intended to be a final clarification, and which bears, below her signature, the following autograph apostille: "Mother Agnès of Jesus who read, approves and endorses this writing, February 11, 1950.” Here is the best of this document:

“Thérèse is the Saint of Love, but of a love that finds its most characteristic expression in Spiritual Childhood. She is the Saint passionate about Jesus, but about a Jesus whose ineffable condescension she discovered in all little souls. She is the brilliant inventor of the Act of Offering to Merciful Love, which remains within the reach of the weakest aspiring only to “please” God. Undoubtedly, one saw in her the zeal of the hearts, but, to conquer them, she wanted to employ these “small means” which she dreamed of teaching to the others, obscure sacrifices of fidelity full with love with the daily duties. .. It must be repeated: his only message, moreover retained by the Sovereign Pontiffs, as has been remarked, is the Way of Spiritual Childhood.

“Without doubt, it was his love that made him find it, at the height of his holiness. But it is only after having committed herself to it that she was inspired to offer herself as a victim to Love. All the Saints are more or less the heralds of Divine Love and the zeal of souls, while she alone is the herald of the “Little Way of Spiritual Childhood”. This is his find. It is his Omen Novum, his Message that I summarize here: Joyful humility, desperate trust in Merciful Love, total abandonment to the divine will, exquisite art of pleasing God in the smallest things of life, deep knowledge and lived the Fatherhood of God, as I testified at the Trial in these terms: “His love for God the Father went as far as filial tenderness. This is the secret of Thérèse's teaching...

“Facing eternity, we who shared in the thought of Thérèse, we would like to solemnly repeat it: Thérèse's grace, her holiness, her mission, is Spiritual Childhood. »

On November 2, 1950, Sister Geneviève spoke to Mother Agnès of Jesus about the autobiographical manuscripts which, adjusted and reworked, had formed the Story of a Soul. Their full publication, considered for a moment, had been postponed, on the intervention of the Holy See, so as not to impose on the venerable Prioress emotions beyond her strength. As Céline came back to this edition which should be done one day, as we had done, at the end of 1948, for the Letters of the Saint, her sister said to her: "After my death, I charge you to do so in my name. »

Since the disappearance of Marie and Léonie, relations between the last two survivors of the family have become more intimate every day. Not only did they live from their past, but they shared more and more, in inexpressible peace, those secret thoughts that the approach of the tomb awakens. "It's my little Céline that I love best on earth," said Mother Agnès of Jesus, who kept until the end that kindness and that gift of seduction which, in her, went so well with the authority. “What would become of me if I didn't have you,” she confided to him on May 4, 1950, and, the following August 6, with her birthday wishes: “You will have a happy death. »

Sister Geneviève surrounded with tenderness and trust the one whom, following Thérèse's example, she liked to call “Little Mother”. If she enjoyed conversing with her, she also liked, in accordance with the old tradition of Carmel, to put her thoughts in writing. The letters she addressed to him, on the occasion of his birthday or his birthday, would retain to the end the simplicity and freshness that made Les Buissonnets so charming.

With fraternal solicitude, Céline follows her eldest in her last battles. “She is as gentle and serene as possible, abandoned without any reservations to the good God, we read in a letter dated June 2, 1951. However for me, who knew her in her strength, her state of complete dependence is a suffering ; she barely stands, supported by two sisters. »

When Mother Agnès of Jesus passed away on the following July 28, in her ninetieth year, Céline painfully felt her loss; she nevertheless offered her solitude less generously: "If the stings of pain pass me by thinking of my 'Little Mire', I also have emanations of joy knowing that all my loved ones have emerged victorious from the 'great tribulation ". I'd rather it was me who was left than them. And then, I'm happy with everything, giving everything to Jesus while I can still give. Complete stripping draws me in and out. The nothing becomes my everything. It is on him that I lean. »

"I only live very little here," she wrote again. My heart and my thoughts are truly in Heaven, without sensible consolation. It is a strong and deep feeling. I constantly talk to my “Little Mother”. Our two old ages have merged in recent years. She hangs on the wall of her cell, to always have it in view, the photograph, framed for her, of Mother Agnès leaning towards her Céline to smile at her.

We guess that this ultimate separation only increases, in the last survivor of the Martin family, the sense of eternity. She has this lovely find: “We and our parents lived leaning over a window open to Heaven. She adds, close to the big deadline: “Alongside the anguish of death, at the same time, there is a feeling of joy, thinking that I will have this testimony to give to the good God. Yes, I think with pride of the passion that awaits me and will precede my entry into the Fatherland. It would be very unfortunate, I think, not to go through death, because this testimony can only be given once, and it is precious before God. Ah! what a grace to have to prove our love to him by a testimony! It's like the martyrs! So far I have missed all the testimonies I wanted to give to Jesus, I have not practiced virtue as I would have liked, always giving only the testimony of my weakness and my imperfection. But, oh joy! I still have one to return, and I don't want to miss that one! »

“Welcome, our Sister Death! said the Pauper of Assisi.

6. The Rising Life

Having seen all of her family die, and herself over the age of eighty-two, Sister Geneviève seemed called to spend the rest of her days in peaceful rest, under the care of a Community which venerated in her the last echo of a prestigious past. It did not happen. As if she had acquired a new youth, the final phase of her life will overflow with activity. His faculties, remaining intact, will be bent to incessant work, likely to crush vigorous and fully mature temperaments. This beautiful longevity, which is miraculous, will providentially prolong Céline's mission.

And yet she hid beneath her astonishing vitality a long-decayed health. By 1900, rheumatic pains had deformed and stiffened his knees, then spreading to the shoulders, neck and jaw. In 1942, it was attacks of sciatica, a little later, attacks of gout which twisted her, for whole hours, in the hands and feet. Stomach and liver ailments were common, as well as pulmonary complications. Added to this were nervous insomnia and heart failure. Old age also brought about a decrease in hearing and sight, which was particularly painful for a mind eager to learn and communicate. For a certain period, Sister Geneviève will know the sleepless nights spent in an armchair telling the rosary, or interspersed with multiple risings intended to provide a vague relief! She liked to joke about her condition, using the sayings of Les Buissonnets: “It's always the same thing... A long illness tires the doctor. She compares herself to a “pincushion”. “I would need like Naaman, she writes, to go and immerse myself seven times in the Jordan to become healthy again. Borrowing the expression with which the martyr Ignatius of Antioch designated his fierce guardians, she speaks of the "ten leopards", infirmities and various ordeals, which jealously guard her. She draws up the balance sheet: “What deficiencies in old age! What a procession of impotence accompanies it! But how meritorious that must be, since the good Lord lets them exercise his empire over us, he who has so much trouble seeing us suffer! »

In February 1953, a malignant flu caused fear for his life. Vigorous treatment put her back on her feet. She almost resents the doctors who rush to her bedside, happy, moreover, to admire her philosophy and welcome her quips. “I am in an abyss of misery, she confides. Will I get away with it? Certainly. Oh ! how hard it is always to miss the train! Nothing can go slower than my present state. I constantly ask God not to allow me to lack confidence. My soul struggles in the shallows... I always lose; when will i win? »

Since 1933, Sister Geneviève has occupied a cell on the ground floor, which saves her some fatigue. On the death of Sister Marie of the Sacred Heart, she settled permanently in the infirmary where her eldest had endured long and terrible suffering. In the last few years, she will no longer be able to participate in the Office or in recreation. On February 6, 1951, she will obtain, because of her increasingly bad sight, to replace the breviary by the Pater. She will also be forced to reduce the visiting room sessions. It must be said that any publicity made around her bothered her to the point of exasperation. In the days when permission to enter the enclosure was more easily obtained, she literally ran away from visitors, slipping away or only appearing at the last minute.

Her energy was deployed, intact, in the struggle to affirm in all its scope the message of Thérèse. She writes a note establishing how she had the idea of ​​her Little Way of Spiritual Childhood, human influences only playing a completely secondary role in this respect, God alone serving as inspiration. She devotes several studies to defining the exact meaning of the Act of Offering to Merciful Love. Once again, she gives the Theresian exegesis of the terms “Victim”, “Holocaust”, “Martyrdom of love”, which once frightened Sister Marie of the Sacred Heart, like a call to suffering. It evokes the interpretations given by the Saint herself, which clearly distinguish the offering to Mercy from the offering to Justice, thus opening up a free career to the Legion of little souls. Clearly, Céline is touching on a key point here, on which she feels that all ambiguity must be dispelled. The very spirit of the Way of Childhood is in question. She who has seen, heard, touched with her finger the examples and teachings of Thérèse, cannot fail to speak. She is aware of defending the tradition in all its purity.

It was in this same capacity that, in 1952, she published, under the title Conseils et Souvenirs, all the papers in which she collected the words and gestures of her sister, at the time when, as a young nun, she herself lived by his side, profiting from his direction. The Foreword expresses the spirit of the company:

“I re-read and classified my memories, recorded in private notebooks and in my preparations for the Deposition for the two Trials. These texts, most often alternated in dialogue, give, as the Imitation says, the true accent of “the voice of nature” and “the voice of grace”. And although, on certain subjects, “the voice of nature” repeats itself until it becomes tedious, I wanted to delete nothing so as not to lose any of the wise answers of “the voice of grace”. May these lived memories help a little the souls who struggle with their faults or imperfections! I certify that these pages are, in all truth, consistent with what I have seen and heard. »

In short, by revealing all her weaknesses without bluntness, Céline nobly agreed to serve as a foil to the ideal image of Teresian holiness. Or better, she intended to show, in concrete terms, how it was possible, despite a heavy handicap, to progress in the “Little Way”. She was displayed so crudely that it was suggested that she depersonalize the story, by rejecting in anonymity certain passages which presented her in too unfavorable a light. She asked to think it over and, the next day, pronounced in a very firm tone: "No, leave things as they are." It's not because the whole world will see that I have faults that I will have one more. To a friend who confided to her her astonishment and her pain at seeing the contrast between the two sisters so brutally accentuated, she replied with her beautiful frankness: , her Céline, by the path she was following... The good Lord allowed her apparent rigor not to discourage me, but to encourage me to perfection. It was his intention that, with me, the virtues, the graces, should be “delayed”. At Thérèse, the "bomb" of graces exploded instantly! »

Conceived in this spirit, the book is essentially practical. Nothing of a treatise on spirituality or asceticism: piquant anecdotes, recorded conversations, confidences accompanied by precious lessons, life captured at its source and making itself exemplary. We have there, in two hundred pages, the whole pedagogy of Spiritual Childhood. The Mistress of Novices is caught on the spot, encamped in her little kingdom. She speaks, she acts, she advises, she resumes, she gives herself up entirely, striving to bring in her wake those whose reluctance and difficulties, admitted without detour, provoke responses that enlighten and stimulate. All the fundamental virtues are thus reviewed: humility, trust, love of God, fraternal charity, zeal of souls, fidelity to the Rule, poverty, renunciation, strength in suffering. The finale relates to the last illness and death of the Saint.

The volume of Advice and Memories happily completes the Autobiographical Manuscripts, the Correspondence and the Novissima Verba of Thérèse. It's like a series of snapshots where we discover her, without any preparation, without posing, intuitive, alert, springing, with an incomparable mastery of herself. Several successive editions have not exhausted the interest of a work accessible to the less cultured, and which pleases the learned themselves, because there is revealed in it a solid and sure doctrine.

Already other works preoccupied our Carmelite. Recent writings, echoing uncontrollable rumors, tended to obscure Mr. Martin's face, to present him, within his household, as a sort of secondary character, half-ascetic, half-dreamer, totally devoid of meaning. practice and energy. These insinuations indignant Celine, better placed than anyone else to appreciate the moral value of her father, his bravery which sometimes bordered on temerity and worried his family, finally his uncontested authority. How to restore the truth? Moreover, a whole current, particularly from overseas, pushed for the glorification of Thérèse's parents. The Carmel, which knew how much care and effort a Cause entails, was rather reluctant. It was important, however, not to allow the most authoritative witness to disappear without taking his testimony under oath before the ecclesiastical authority. This is what led Sister Geneviève to exhume from the dust of the files everything that concerned Mr. and Mrs. Martin. So we saw her, at the age of eighty-four, working with a magnifying glass among a whole heap of notes, drawing up these two brochures which were to appear in 1953 and 1954, and which were to be entitled: "Le Père" and "La Mère de Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus. After tracing the moral portrait of these magnanimous Christians, Céline insists on their illness and their death. It also provides, in the appendix, with supporting drawing, precious topographical details on the house and the garden of the rue Saint-Blaise in Alençon. Those who attended this long effort of development and composition were edified altogether by the youthful ardor and the rigorous historical probity of this author who was more than octogenarian.

Certainly these publications added nothing new to the biography of Thérèse's parents. They are valuable above all for that ardent, spontaneous and simple je ne sais quoi that Sister Geneviève put into everything she did. Would these testimonies be enough to dismiss the legend? It is permissible to doubt it, because false rumors die hard; there is always some apocryphal prowling around dwellings where holiness awakens. Sister Geneviève had few illusions in this regard. “The erroneous statements, she writes in the introductory letter, pass from mouth to mouth and end up completely covering the truth, as the successive layers of sediment hide the shell and the splendor of its mother-of-pearl. »

On July 11, 1954, the solemn consecration of the Teresian Sanctuary took place, raised on this occasion, by decree of the Holy See, to the dignity of Minor Basilica. Sister Geneviève had herself worked, through abundant correspondence, to obtain from the various countries which had offered an altar, relics of Saints, which she placed herself in the various caskets intended to be sealed in stone. She listened with gratitude to the radio message in which Pius XII extolled in the Carmelite Church, and recommended to all his devotees, the humility, confidence and love which characterize his little Way. This event gave a new impetus to Teresian studies. With papal consent, the complete phototype edition of the Autobiographical Manuscripts was being actively prepared. It would be released in 1956, arousing passionate interest in the Catholic world. Sister Geneviève, who, more than any other, had encouraged this publication, and who had followed its laborious critical review very closely, is delighted with this success.

She was led to revise another work which had been out of print for some time, and which needed to be completed and adapted, taking into account recent publications. It was about an incalculable number of texts coming from a little everywhere and melted in a common crucible. To recapture them, to confront them with the authentic, to bring them back to the original, to regroup them, imposed an almost superhuman effort, given the conditions in which Sister Geneviève labored, half-blind, her hands numb, unable to move easily. She said she herself was overwhelmed.

He must face another kind of test. February 24, 1956 marked the sixtieth anniversary of his Profession. For some time, we had been talking about these diamond weddings. She would like to dismiss this “scarecrow jubilee”, as she puts it. At his request, the donations received on this occasion will contribute to renewing and enriching the liturgical treasure of the Basilica. On the dreaded day, a simplified ceremony takes place in the Carmel chapel, under the presidency of Mgr Jacquemin, Bishop of Bayeux. The speech is delivered by the Very Reverend Father Marie-Eugène of the Child Jesus, former Apostolic Visitor of the Carmelites of France. An autograph blessing from the Holy Father, two letters from Cardinal Ottaviani and the Very Reverend Father General Superior of the Discalced Carmelites, underline the event.

Three days later, the flu struck the jubilee and threatened to kill her. For six months, almost continuous tortures tormented his nights. She endured them in peace, avoiding as much as possible to disturb her nurse. She encouraged herself by thinking of the martyrs, especially Saint Sebastian, twice crowned, because, miraculously delivered from death, he again faced his persecutor. “It's incredible how I have been helped by God,” she confided. I would never have wanted to ask him to suffer, but now I thank him. »

Thus debilitated, it seemed that a new crisis was soon to get the better of her. "I have descended into the valley of the shadows of death," she wrote. In truth, I'm not afraid of it and I'm really abandoned to it, without feeling it. Unexpectedly, she recovered. Towards the end of April, when the general meetings of the Federations of Carmels of France were held in Lisieux for the second time, she had to receive again the two hundred and sixty Superiors and Delegates admitted to visit the interior of the Monastery. . She lent herself willingly to this procession, attentive, in spite of her fatigue, to give each one a personal mark of interest.

***

Other tasks awaited him. On the very day of Sister Geneviève's jubilee, Bishop Jacquemin informed her of his intention to authorize the opening of the Informative Process of the Cause of Louis Martin. On March 22, 1957, he signed the Ordinance for the search for the writings of the Servant of God. The following October 10, the Bishop of Sées, Mgr Pasquet, did the same for Zélie Guérin. If we wanted to avoid the maze of a historic trial, it was urgent to question the last direct witnesses.

Armed with the Articles that guided the research, Céline prepared for the interrogations, with the awareness that she brought to everything. She liked to say that she was only interested in the Causes of characters who had a mission: for example Joan of Arc, liberator of France, Thérèse, messenger of Spiritual Childhood, Maria Goretti and Dominique Savio, witnesses and apostles of purity. . If she wanted to see her parents glorified—the two at the same time, in separate but morally twinned trials—it was so that the family, increasingly threatened with disintegration, would be offered the model of an ideal home.

She therefore testified before the Court of Bayeux, which sat, for the occasion, in the parlor of the Carmel, and which, in addition to its own jurisdiction, acted by rogatory commission on behalf of the Court of Sées. At the beginning of April and in June for Mr. Martin, then in November and December 1957 for Madame Martin, Sister Geneviève was interrogated in a certain number of sessions, several of which lasted up to four hours. She speaks of a day when she was “seven hours in the hot seat”. The judges admired her presence of mind and tasted more than once the punchy words and the reminiscences of old Norman folklore with which she peppered her declarations. As for her, she is surprised to have endured this fatigue so cheerfully.

In February, August and September 1958, she still intervenes in the Trials of non-cult and writings. On September 6, she gave her last statement. That same day, all proofs carefully proofread by her, she gave the "ready to print" for the Correspondence of Mrs. Martin. His project to erect a statue of Thérèse, in the center of a garden, along the axis of the path leading to Les Buissonnets, has finally been executed. On September 12, she wanted to go up to the attic where some archive chests are. For several years, she wanted to do this exploration.

On October 13, 1958, in the presence of the Bishop of Bayeux, of Mgr Pioger, Auxiliary Bishop of Sées, and of Mgr Fallaize, former Apostolic Vicar of Mackenzie, the remains of Mr. and Mrs. Martin were exhumed, and to their transfer to the plateau of the Way of the Cross, at the apse of the Basilica. Sister Geneviève is moved to learn that the only object found intact on each of the bodies, apart from a metal Christ, is the scapular of Our Lady of Mount Carmel. Even more poignant was the observation, made by the three doctors, of deep vertebral lesions in Ms. Martin, at the level of the left shoulder blade, where the cancer was exerting its terrible ravages. The proof of heroism is in the skeleton.

It is now necessary to collect, sort, wash with alcohol and classify under a wax seal, without taking anything, apart from the bones locked up in the new tombs, the dust and the debris contained in the coffin. Sister Geneviève worked on it with her nurse: meticulous, exhausting work, in which she put all her filial piety. December 12 finds her again cutting boxes with incredible pains and arranging boxes of different sizes and the appropriate labels for these souvenirs. Literally, she is at her wit's end, but with the very sweet feeling that her task is finally done.

For some time now, without anyone around her noticing, she had felt herself getting terribly old. She saw it as a source of wealth. She showed more serenity than in the past to bear the suffering of things that change. Speaking of certain ornaments which had been the object of all her care, and which the modern taste for sobriety had set aside, she said: "I thank God for having allowed me to see this in my lifetime, and that I can detach myself from it with love. — "She is passing, the face of this world," she repeated in the face of certain traditions that had become obsolete, at the sight of ancient customs thrown into the shadows. All its momentum is directed towards Heaven. The verse of Revelation: “Behold, I am coming soon. Yes, I'm coming soon” startled her. The coming outcome fills him with immense hope. "It's not to be freed from suffering and work," she explains. It is to finally be close to my Jesus whom I have loved for so long, close to the Blessed Virgin, my dear Mother, and to Saint Joseph; to finally know all the details of their human life. »

His confidence remains unshaken. On December 8, 1958, she wrote again: “My nights are often painful, my days loaded with work. “One thing does not wait for another. All of this, together with the thousand little miseries of old age, is a burden to me that I don't often take on with a smile but with a sigh. I wouldn't want the good Lord to hear it. And yet, I regard all my imperfections as treasures and call them to my judgment, for all my faults are my strength. As I regret them and sincerely humble myself, I think that they will draw upon me the pity of the good God, and when he has pity he shows mercy. »

She savored the beautiful book of Mgr Baunard, the Elder. There she discovers this stanza, which she applies with enthusiasm: I am approaching my hundredth birthday, my day is coming to an end; It is more than evening, it is almost night; But, on my brow, here in the east is rising The dawn of a more beautiful day. Hello, hello to him! From your face, O Christ, it is the white light Which in my sad heart awakens great hope; Come down, ray of heaven, appear, my Brother, Jesus, it is time to see us.

7. The intrepid one with the heart of a child

Sister Geneviève of the Holy Face was a character. Alert and lively, the observant eyes under the very marked eyebrow arches, the vigorous chin, the well-defined lips, with a slightly imperious fold, a face on the lookout, or, if you like, on the alert: such she appeared to visitors. who had the favor of seeing her in the parlor. Mother Agnes of Jesus sketched her portrait in this acrostic stanza:

Céline, Knight without reproach and without fear, Wife of Jesus, of Thérèse the sister, Heaven is in her name, divine art in her soul. There are no secrets that her flame does not pierce, No more than there are beauties that she does not want to love. Finally, humility alone could charm her.

The last verse alludes to the work that grace operates in this soul, under the sign of Spiritual Childhood; the first defines an upright and strong nature, made for combat. This contrast will burst throughout the chapter which attempts to evoke, before she leaves the scene, the moral physiognomy of our Carmelite.

It would be an understatement to say that it was voluntary and personal. He was a personality, capable of promptness in decision, tenacity and ardor in execution. She was unaware of the approximation; she did not like delays or transactions, while knowing how to use, if necessary, Norman finesse to achieve her ends. To cope with her multiple tasks, she had to deploy incredible energy. We saw her, almost octogenarian, going upstairs to the archives, leaning on her cane, searching a chest, opening and going through a heap of files, to find a date, a line, a text, so conscientiously did she put toil. Ah! Certainly, she was not one of those "trailers who constitute, she said, a dead weight, a brake on the general momentum!" Rather, she reproaches herself for intervening with too much impetuosity. “I noticed with admiration, she writes, that in her last years, Sister Marie du Sacré-Coeur allowed all kinds of opinions to be expressed in front of her, at recess, without ever interfering with them. She stayed there calm and serene in her little car, while I couldn't help but jump up and speak my mind outright. What still happens to me despite my seventy-two years. “Daughter of thunder” I will be, alas! always sensitive to the emanations of the atmosphere, and the good Lord will be obliged to take me as I am, vibrant and warlike. " A few months before her death, she was unleashed against a foreign nun, guilty of having drawn, to illustrate a work of spirituality, grimacing images damaging the face of Christ and his saints: "I want to write to this Sister whom she has committed a real sacrilege. »

This voluntarism sustained her even in her intellectual effort. Although devoid of secondary education and special culture, she likes to learn, to understand, to seek the last word of everything. She confesses it bluntly: "I always weighed and dissected the proposals made around me, I went to the proofs of what had been put forward, and I was uncomfortable as long as the question was not fully resolved. His curiosity is insatiable. She reacts to everything. In her last years, she began to read the History of the Church by Daniel Rops, she gleaned from the journal Ecclesia, from studies in missiology, from the Friend of the Clergy; the Life of Dom Guéranger fascinates her; she leans above all on the Bible, loving to compare three or four different translations; after the Gospel, the Epistles of Saint Paul constitute his bedside book. At eighty-nine, she still wrote down the most beautiful verses of Saint John, but, at the same time, she was interested in the recent acquisitions of geologists on the ice age and in the hypotheses of paleontologists on the age of humanity.

What strikes her is immediately put down on paper and classified. She owes that to her uncle Guérin. She is also the first to joke about it, witness this bout-rimé addressed to Mother Agnès of Jesus:

I am an old archivist.

Of my long treasures is the list.

I grasp everything that exists.

To throw nothing away I persist,

And, when it is necessary, unexpectedly,

I use everything as an artist.

Let's bless this gift that she says is “innate”. It has earned us the preservation of invaluable documentation on Thérèse and her family.

Sister Geneviève is not an idealist. Essentially practical, it shows remarkable ingenuity in the arrangement and use of things. Still a child, when she returned from a walk, she would cut doll's dresses out of plain cloth, like those she had carefully examined in store fronts. It was she again, at the beginning of the century, during the threats of eviction, who, from afar and on a sketchy plan, designed the restoration and fitting out of the building acquired in Belgium by Doctor La Néele, for the Carmel account.

Of her undeniable talents, Céline does not take pride. Citing the scriptural example of Béséléel, whom “God filled with knowledge for all kinds of works”, she said: “The Lord is always the same; he gives what is needed; also one could say to me that I work wonders, without my conceiving any pride. She knows how to repress the first impulses of self-esteem if necessary. Workers had marveled at the sketch she had drawn for them of a basin for developing and washing photographs. “This Sister is a true architect,” they exclaimed. The praise having pleased her, she mortified herself by sacrificing to Jesus the iron-tipped pencil to which she was very attached.

What Sister Geneviève has to watch above all is her extreme sensitivity. She gets enthusiastic quickly; she needs to confide, to be understood. Faithful in friendship, the slightest attention excites his gratitude; the disrespect the deep trouble. Little mistress of herself, she barely conceals her irritation when someone interrupts her in the middle of her work or when her plans are upset. Impulsive as she is, she sometimes retaliates with vivacity, without noticing that she hurts. If she realizes it afterwards, immediately—for she is loyalty itself—she humbly confesses it. His practiced eye quickly detects the qualities and faults of his neighbour; his faithful memory records it. Such is nature's share in the balance sheet. She herself observes it with implacable lucidity, while however exaggerating the pejorative note.

On April 19, 1940, she wrote to Mother Agnès of Jesus, who liked to provoke and receive her confidences: "I feel like a small scale called a trebuchet, which is used in medicine to weigh to the milligram, because it is quite true to say that I am sensitive to the slightest milligram and that a milligram makes me stumble. But it will always be like that, I know that. I still feel that I will always be like quicksilver, doing things not yet thought of. It is very regrettable to have so little balance and weighting, because a host of imperfections are the consequence. But I think that the good Lord likes to get out of difficulties and that he is not embarrassed to make his way through the middle of an abyss of mud. » — « I always wanted, she notes in Conseils et Souvenirs, that the details of my life fit together like a game of patience. Beware who bothered them! If an unforeseen circumstance came to break this combination and scramble the arrangement, I seemed displeased. »

It is very well seen, but without the necessary counterparts. Alongside an undeniable passive, we must point out the assets of the sometimes heroic struggles that Sister Geneviève waged against herself, and of which those closest to her had the spectacle. At each of her Communions, she implored, for the day, patience and the benevolence of judgment. Writing to a nun much younger than her, and who was celebrating her twenty-five years of Profession, she declared to her: "It is useless to tell you that I am praying for you, but it is very useful for me to ask you to do so. For me. Today, you have all rights over the Heart of the Bridegroom; therefore ask him to give me, not your sweetness, for I would not want to deprive you of it, but a sweetness similar to yours, a richness of which I have great need. On June 4, 1958, seven months before her death, she sent this note to one of her sisters whom she feared had been badly edified: “Oh! that you touched me last night with your kindness, your gentleness, your affection; I who showed myself so willful, I beg your pardon! y> And she signs the name that we liked to call her at Les Buissonnets: “Petit Célin repentant. »

If we sometimes fear her responses, we smile above all, because she has the art, in this singsong tone that betrays Lower Normandy, of mixing tasty remarks, anecdotes, which amuse her interlocutors in the visiting room. . Hasn't she made up an envelope of amusing images, intended to distract those who visit her? To the compliments of a doctor, she replies with humorous solemnity: “But... you didn't know that I was a great soul? When, around a delicate affair, we discuss without finding a way out: "Let's put it off until tomorrow," she exclaims. Suggestions come to me at night. “Or again:” Let’s talk nonsense. It is from the clash of ideas that light springs”. Did she use an unusual term, “What a word in my mouth! she exclaims funny, taking on the expression of a nun of yesteryear. During a conversation on external defects, she launches: “The Blessed Virgin herself would perhaps have annoyed us by the way of putting on her veil or her apron. » When someone speaks to him about a Servant of God whose biography is woven with sensational facts: « He is not my Saint! » she professes, after Father Pichon. She even jokes about her deficiencies. “I need prayers to become patient, but I will suffer all my life from the deprivation of this virtue, and I will die without having enjoyed it; I feel it is incorrigible. Also, dying as I lived, without patience, I will not be able to wait at Heaven's door, and I will enter it straight. She compares herself to donkeys whose stubbornness is proverbial, "who are not delicate and walk anywhere, on stones, in the mud, on the edge of precipices", not letting themselves be stopped by any difficulty.

***

What especially charms her – Thérèse, as we have said, was very sensitive to this – is her direct, concrete, sincere, straight-forward manner, in a word: her simplicity. She wears it everywhere and in all circumstances, to young and old alike. After being ecstatic in front of a nest of chicks or in front of the little white rabbits that the novices present to her, she maintains with ease a Prince of the Church. Dare we say that she does the same with Jesus? In the intimacy, she is familiar with him. She sucks it in with all her might. " Oh ! if only they no longer saw in me anything of myself, nothing but Jesus! » Same familiarity with Mary, his « Heavenly Mother ».

At the end of her life, a text by Father Faber plunged her into rapture. She recognizes herself in it feature by feature. “Simplicity comes very close to God, because boldness is one of his most natural graces. She approaches because she does not imagine how far she is advancing. It does not think of itself at all to consider its own unworthiness, and that is why it rushes forward, while a mind more conscious of its deeds would advance only slowly; it finds itself in full freedom where another kind of holiness would wait for permission. These simple souls truly come to God with a kind of effrontery of love that fears nothing, and when they are near God they simply rejoice and do nothing more. There is sometimes something, I would almost say: without manners, in the way these souls receive the great graces

and the divine confidences as quite natural things, and the Holy Spirit seems to play with their simplicity and their sincerity. They are perpetual children. »

We have here the magic word that illuminates the whole interior of Sister Geneviève. "It is characteristic of children, she notes, to live in humility and dependence, to have a simple mind, a tender gratitude for the smallest benefits, to accept without reasoning what the father of family imposes, as it is also their virtue to be afraid of nothing when they are under the paternal aegis. This ideal, Thérèse communicated it to him during his lifetime, and even more so after his death. She could have said to him, “It is good for you that I am leaving,” for her fraternal influence proved to be more decisive when her posthumous mission began. Céline, who makes this remark, has admirably grasped the brilliant intuition which constitutes the key to Spiritual Childhood: God being Merciful Love, misery attracts him and provokes the ocean of his graces; it suffices for that to recognize it, to accept it, to love it, while never ceasing to offer impotent efforts to the Lord, which he will crown in his time.

At the base, an absolute faith in the infinite Charity. “I have my good God to me, writes Céline. He is a Father to me, whom I love madly, passionately... My only desire is to know him more and more, to reach the last limits of this knowledge, on earth, and later in Heaven... and for that, I feel that it is necessary to reach the last limits of humility, that is why I request it earnestly. That's all my poor little soul. »

Although all enveloped in Christmas poetry, the 1936th century canticle in which we sing: “Happy mystery! Jesus, suffering for us, from a severe God appeases wrath”, does not find favor in the eyes of Sister Geneviève. Even less the sermons which, in oratorical mode, oppose the rigorous Justice of the Father to the Mercy of the Son. “Yesterday evening, she wrote to Mother Agnès of Jesus — it was in February XNUMX — I left prayer with a heavy heart. I had meditated on the Passion in a new Life of Our Lord. It took me very badly. My love for the good Lord is crumpled at every line. For that not to be so, I would have to love him less and not feel him as good, because he is a real martyrdom. For me, it emerges from this reading that God is severe, that he thirsted for the blood of his Son, made a victim for men. We speak only of bloody sacrifice, of expiation. No place for mercy, for forgiveness. The debt of sin must be paid "ruby on the nail" to this inflexible Master, to this inexorable Judge. Really, with the thoughts I have about the good God, I wonder if I'm not a heretic... But then, may he himself change my heart! Personally, I don't see “the great Victim of Calvary” like everyone else. These interpretations hurt me. To rest from all that... I return to the Gospel, to Scripture, to my little Thérèse. »

Christ, in advance, had cleared Sister Geneviève of all suspicion of heresy: “Whoever sees me, sees my Father, he had said to Philippe. So it is guided by Jesus that Céline sets out to discover the Father. This name of Jesus is so dear to her that she puts into pronouncing it a caressing tenderness. Above all, she admires divine condescension: “As a child, she wrote in her autobiography, I used to go play with the Prefect's daughter. But when she wanted my company, she sent for me through her governess, or, from her balcony, beckoned me to go to her. She never came to us. She made Thérèse and me “go up”, without ever “going down” to us. And the good God, he, descends..." — Commenting in his own way on the song of the angels in Bethlehem, this Gloria which rises towards Heaven at the hour when the Word of life "is humbled to the very depths. fund”, Sister Geneviève concludes: “It is therefore that God considers that the glory is for him when he lowered himself to the point of making this little wreck that is a newborn child. Here she takes up Bossuet's daring words about the Almighty "who is enriched by humility."

Faced with such an example, how can one claim to be exalted? The publican's wisdom prevails. Celine does not want any other. “What would I rely on to have confidence? Ah! I know it well, it will be on my miseries, on my faults, on my very faults. It is in their procession that I will present myself, full of assurance, before the good Lord, for then his pity will be my portion. He will save me, not because of my good works, but because of his goodness.

It is worth noting that Sister Geneviève reasons neither as a quietist, for whom passive abandonment is everything, nor as a Protestant, for whom faith alone is enough, independently of works. She knows that it takes active faith; she multiplies her efforts to correct herself, to devote herself, to please Jesus. But she also knows that these works are only worth by the merits of Christ. This is why, imitating Thérèse, she bases her hope of Heaven only on infinite Charity. works. She knows that it takes active faith; she multiplies her efforts to correct herself, to devote herself, to please Jesus. But she also knows that these works are only worth by the merits of Christ. This is why, imitating Thérèse, she bases her hope of Heaven only on infinite Charity. Likewise, when she declares that she relies on her misery, on her very faults, it must be understood that, having valiantly fought and suffered to overcome her faults, she is aware that God alone can free her from them, and that , in his immense Mercy, he will feel sorry for her all the more as he sees her more humbly poor; so of a mother with regard to her crippled child.

Céline did not arrive at this attitude all at once. In a poem, dated August 1919 and entitled "... and your God will be your glory", she retraces, not without happiness, her spiritual itinerary. When her youth opened up to Beauty from above, it was the euphoria of personal victories.

I wanted, in this stadium, an athlete full of ardor,

Quickly win the prize. I dreamed of running to the onslaught of virtues:

The novitiate, under the hand of Thérèse, dispelled this presumption and opened up other perspectives: Yes, often, very often, on the fallen path,

I left some of my wool in the bushes,

And humility, in the evening of the day,

I received the lessons.

Lessons without bitterness and full of hope,

Because, if I am small, oh! How great is Jesus!

I am weak ; He is strong, and his overabundance

Supplied to my nothingness.

No more splendid dreams! More personal plans! Sister Geneviève entrusts herself to Jesus, whom she will serve with all her strength, without counting his merits.

I want you to be everything, everything in me, because I love you... My ideal is you.

In this clarity, we understand the crucial role she assigns to humility. “Humility was always my favorite virtue, my friend and my adviser, and it was without respite that I asked God to grant it to me. Not crushed humility, bordering on depression, but confident humility resting better than itself. "I only want one thing, and that is that the good Lord have pity on me, and you only have pity when you're in a pitiful state. »

Perhaps it will be objected that such remarks are easy and of little import in a nun associated with Teresian glory, surrounded, appreciated, sought after, like the living relic of a great past. That would be to misunderstand completely. Not only did Sister Geneviève practice voluntary self-effacement, fleeing the visiting room, hiding from demonstrations of esteem, suffering from being introduced to prominent figures, but she experienced and accepted humiliation. She does not react during the long period she is kept away from the Chapter. Not more so when one chooses as Mistresses of the novices of the nuns younger than her, the Mothers Marie-Ange of the Child Jesus, Isabelle of the Sacred Heart and Thérèse of the Eucharist, who had not lived like her in Saint's school. “If our Mother doesn't think of me, she limits herself to saying, it's because I have flaws that I don't realize. I have to submit without understanding. »

Later, it was from outside that the trials came. She was said to be diminished, mentally ill, transferred out of the Monastery. It was to the point that the Reverend Father Rodrigue de Saint-François de Paule, Postulator of the Cause of Thérèse, enjoined her to “produce” her. She then entered the Council and, as such, accompanied the ecclesiastical dignitaries introduced into the cloister. One of them, as if amazed at his quick-wittedness, blurted out: "I'll have to deny it," the meaning of which for Celine had nothing hidden. She who jumped up when the memory of her family was attacked, remained calm when it came to herself.

Same disinterestedness about his works. We said what the book The Spirit of Saint Therese, had cost him effort. She nevertheless wrote to Léonie, after sending the manuscript to Monsieur Dubosq: “I don't know if that's what is needed, but if it's burned, I won't be caught. Having acted only for Jesus alone, I will always be well repaid for the trouble I have given myself. Towards the end of her life, she had spent a long time writing a memoir on the Way of Childhood for a high Roman personage. As luck would have it, the document, faithfully retransmitted, got lost in Carmel and was never spoken of again. This silence astonished her, pained her, but she did not breathe a word.

In a paper prepared in anticipation of her death, she wrote: “If our Mother wishes not to send me a circular, let her say that I have asked her. This could facilitate his project. If, on the contrary, his intention is to make one, let it be only to speak about my beloved Thérèse. That she knows how to please me by making known my innumerable faults, to give luster to the incomparable virtues of my little sister. Just as, in a painting, the shadow brings out the light, I will consider myself very happy to be of use in this for something, for the glory of God and of my Thérèse. »

The “terribly everyday” cross is sometimes heavy to bear. “I don't have the strength” sighed Sister Geneviève on August 6, 1939, at the dawn of the Transfiguration. But Thérèse speaks to her in the heart: "I felt gently that my hope would be fulfilled, that I had nothing to fear here below, because I will always have the strength not to have the strength, that knowing this was the birthday gift from Heaven to the exiled little Celine. »

Her main object of humiliation was the incessant struggle that she had to fight to the end to overcome a sensitivity that was too keen and which sometimes flared up outside. Featured, as she necessarily was, her mood swings could not go unnoticed. They risked surprising. She felt neither desolation nor bitterness. We never saw her discouraged or trying to hide her “outings”. She always remained faithful to "who loses wins" and loyally observed the rules of the game. She accepted to see her soul reduced to a "heap" of rubble - this is the title of one of her most charming poems - dreams and illusions strewn on the ground, the virtues drying up in this thankless ground. But she counted on The Love to purify everything and bring out from the ruins an authentic holiness, that of Christ who is “the only Saint”.

There would be a multitude of texts to quote on this point. Let us pick, among the thoughts of the evening, these lines in which she pleasantly plays with her eighty-eight years of age. “My long life ends with superimposed zeros. It's so true. I have labored, worked, suffered a lot, but what are these works in themselves in an imperfect creature like me? From the rockery. Happy again if my zeros are not too often smeared with ink stains! But that completely answers my wish to have only one page of zeros to offer to God. Because I prefer that there is nothing to reward, to rent in me. I want to cover myself only with the works of Jesus, and that my Father in Heaven judges me and loves me according to them. »

The closer she approaches the term, the more Sister Geneviève simplifies herself into an interior attitude where analysis can discern an aspect of humility and an aspect of trust, but which is in fact only a single movement, a filial impulse towards the Paternal heart. Shortly before her death, she confided to a friend: “I live the life of pure faith... In the world, strangers think I am flooded with delight at the sight of the glory of our little Saint. What an illusion! I believe that I have never been in such a spiritual desert. Despite everything, she works, she prays, she struggles, she suffers, she offers her nothingness, because her temperament is the antithesis of dull passivity: "I feed on this testament that my Thérèse bequeathed to me:" It is love alone that counts. » And Love is the total abandonment, the blind trust of the little child in his beloved Father in Heaven, which cannot happen without deep humility, which becomes, without our suspecting it, a virtue. natural as it is in toddlers. »

“Our Thérèse leads us by her way; it's better than if our last days were spent in ecstasy. I have always thought and even desired to have “my Passion”, before Jesus received me in his arms. — "What can I say to you about my soul," she confides to a nun? Nothing, nothing from Heaven, not the slightest consolation... It is true that peace of heart reigns. This is the main. “The greatest grace that God can give us, says Saint Paul, is not only to believe in Him, but also to suffer for Him. This word often comes to mind and strengthens me in the midst of my darkness. I think this state of darkness is the prelude to the light into which we will soon enter. »

Sister Geneviève has not forgotten the lesson of the elevator. She discounts the final gesture that will snatch her from her misery. On August 6, 1958, at her last party here below, she saw in a dream a languid river, carrying the remains of plants, which, as it approached the estuary, purified itself, swelled and came alive in a mass of flowers. towering water, sweeping away all defilement. “I think,” she writes, “that this image is that of my poor life, so encumbered with all sorts of imperfections, that my Jesus will make disappear when he straightens it, when I throw myself into his arms. This hope will not be frustrated; the rest of this story will show it amply.

Céline inherited from her sister her inconfusable certainty of the “excessive charity” of God. Two scriptural verses serve as refrains. She places them as an epigraph at the top of one of her notebooks. “Blessed be God, the Father of mercies, the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our afflictions” (II Cor. i, 3-4). — "Come to me, all you who labor and are overburdened, and I will give you rest" (Matt. xi, 28). She follows them with this statement: "The two columns on which I have built my edifice." She discovers there what she calls "the character" or "the morals of the good God." She also shudders with indignation at the clumsy, one-sided or insufficiently nuanced formulas which attribute to Providence and its vengeful or purifying designs the whole lot of the sufferings under which humanity groans.

A retired preacher having affirmed that God takes responsibility for all our trials and that he wants them positively, since, being able to do so, he does not prevent them, she struggles, she is troubled by this summary verdict, which seems insulting to her for divine goodness. This is the origin of two years of research, during which she turns and returns the question under all its aspects. She puts her thoughts in writing; she criticizes the texts that do not go in her direction. It defines a few firm points: taken as a whole, pain comes from sin; considered in detail, it is, in general, the fact of secondary causes, events, men, bad angels. What is in question is the direct intervention of God in this matter. Our Céline intends to reduce it as much as possible, somewhat oblivious to the mystery, of which only the beyond will reveal the secret to us. She doesn't admit it, anyway—and who would dream of blaming her for that? — that the Father be presented as a true executioner, an expert in torturing his friends in order to associate them better with his cross. He pities, he comforts, he helps those who mourn. Likewise, it rejects adventurous reflections, even if they are signed by illustrious names, which would seem to confer a certain primacy on suffering. “Above all, there is Charity”, she exclaims with Saint Paul.

Here is one of the many passages where Sister Geneviève translates, in sometimes breathless prose, and with certain clumsiness of form, this inner debate. “It is because of the hardening of our hearts, because of our sins, that our good, so good God, sees himself in the hard necessity of abandoning us to chastisement. Why should the living man complain? Let everyone complain of not loving their God enough. Let him complain of his sin, since it is our crimes, our abominations, our lack of love, that we bear the penalty. “However, says the Scripture, the Lord does not reject forever; but when he afflicts, he has compassion according to his great mercy, for it is not with a good heart that he humiliates and afflicts the children of men. We cannot believe how much it costs him to let us suffer; his father's heart is crushed by it. He is as if obliged to turn his head away so as not to see his children in the throes of pain, but it is for their own good, so he arms himself with courage, knowing that later on we will not have enough expressions of gratitude to tell him the thanks of our poor hearts for such a blessing. »

Sister Geneviève fiercely holds the side of the chain where the extreme mercy of a God who cannot rejoice in our tears is affirmed. Old age will alert her more to the other side where there is not only the price of suffering for the ascent of the soul and the redemption of sinners - she has always been convinced of this - but also the action direct from the Lord in the awakening of the vocations of the crucified. On February 10, 1956, she wrote to one of her confidants: “The other night, I understood that it was suffering accepted out of love that gave value to my life: physical suffering comparable to martyrdom. So far, I have suffered a lot anyway, in heart, in spirit, also suffered in the arduous, heavy work, which Saint Paul lists in his list of tribulations. But what crowns life is personal suffering, like that of Job, reached in his own flesh. Saint Paul ended his, so tormented, by the martyrdom of blood. Our Lord said: “Didn't Christ have to suffer and thus enter into his glory? Suffering, by itself, is worthless, witness that of demons and the damned, but, accepted with loving surrender to God, it is a divine seal placed on our lives... It seemed to me that I I saw clearly, and I thanked God profusely for allowing me to pass through this crucible. The final ordeal—waiting for the light of glory—will push her still further into the serene understanding of a problem that had so stubbornly haunted her.

In front of this soul which boldly scrutinizes the abysses into which theologians only penetrate with trembling, perhaps some readers will think: “How far we are from the solitary paths where the Ascent of Carmel takes place! It is obvious that such an effort of research corresponds only poorly to pure San Juanist principles. Sister Geneviève rarely saw the author of La Nuit obscure. However, as we have said, she was contemplative in her own way, entirely dominated by the obsession with Christ, looking at him, questioning him, embracing him, with something akin to the Franciscan style of a saint Bonaventure. The peaceful view of his nothingness had warded off the risk of imbalance that an overflowing activity entails.

Moreover, Céline understands and deeply loves her vocation as a Carmelite. On the occasion of her Golden Wedding, and in response to certain allegations in Maxence Van der Meersch's book on the Saint of Lisieux, she bears witness which is a magnificent eulogy of the religious vocation. "Despite the often very painful ordeals that have marked my journey, I find, in the end, that Our Lord did not fail in his promise and that 'by leaving everything', I found not only 'the hundredfold", but I go further, "a thousandfold", in joy and inner peace. She carefully draws up the balance sheet of the disadvantages, the advantages of such a destiny, she lists the elements that can disturb or enhance the climate of a Community. Invoking the example of Mother Agnès of Jesus and Thérèse, she celebrates their deep joy: "in the midst of the greatest difficulties, the peace of Heaven flooded their souls, strengthened them: true happiness was the lot of their lives, as it is that of all fervent souls. And that is the great number in our deserts. »

On November 30, 1947, resumes the theme in a long handwritten notice, relating to the subjects of sermons. She would like us to recall the beauty of Carmelite existence, the practical virtues it requires, the greatness and the servitude of this cohabitation, which must become a communion in Christ.

It insists, going down to concrete applications, on the scope of the commitments made. “If we examine ourselves in terms of the vows, it is that of poverty which is the least followed. "There is no donkey so badly built as that of a Community", said Father Pichon, and that is true, because it belongs to everyone, without belonging to anyone. For her part, she would rather err on the side of “conservatism”. Skilful as she is, and taking advantage of everything, she does not resign herself to destroying or seeing destruction and thus constitutes reserves from which she draws in due time. “I recognize, she writes, that I am very picky. I see immediately what things can be used for, even those which have the least aspect and which others would throw away. I put them aside for the occasion. But it seems to me that it is out of a sort of orderliness that I act thus, and without ties. It is rather a pain to me, and I would give my succession to another with great joy. There was certainly there, besides the Norman atavism, a view of Providence. How many photographs, documents, miscellaneous objects relating to Therese would have been sacrificed as worthless, had it not been for the instinct to save that drove Céline!

Age will mortify this natural tendency. She who reigned supreme over all the Theresian documents and memories, to the point of saying jokingly that “the sun did not set on her states”, will have to take note of the dismemberment of her responsibilities. "Having lived so long, my strength failed, and my 'possessions' were scattered, in the hands of this one, of that one. As I am an “archivist” and not all of them are, it happened, as the Scripture says, “that such a father gathers up and his son squanders”. I saw this with my eyes and I blessed the good Lord to see it, because if these sharings had occurred after my death, I would not have noticed it, while I felt the detachments one by one . Oh ! what Grace ! »

"To grow old, she would write again, to have time to be stolen against our will, or borrowed without funds with our consent, to have time to shell our little pearls on the path of life, that prompts a consoling reflection on stripping down which, strikingly paradoxically, becomes an incomparable enrichment. »

Celine was careful to ask for permissions and to report. Authority, for her, had a sacred character. She had respected and loved her in the guise of Mother Marie de Gonzague, who, moreover, showed her real kindness. She maintained the same attitude towards young nuns promoted to the priorate or to the sub-priorate. As for Mother Agnès of Jesus, the fraternal affection she had for her never harmed the deference nor the spirit of obedience which was due to the Superior. Sister Geneviève sometimes argued, but always bowed. We will say, using the pretty formula of the moralist Mersch, that, in the area of ​​its competence, it did not necessarily leave the responsible persons in charge "the penultimate word", it explained itself, it argued, it objected ; but, always and with great heart, she left them "the last word."

Same docility with regard to the Rule. Carmelite life has austerities that take shape in a whole web of often crucifying observances and customs. Sister Geneviève, as we have seen, had a lot to do to adapt to it. In her old age, she suffered from seeing it damaged in any way.

Above all, she loved the beautiful apostolic breath which inspired Teresa of Avila her Reformation and which underlies the recollection and the immolation of the cloister. She spoke of the salvation of souls with such conviction that the Bishop of Saigon, having conversed with her, wanted to take her to Indochina. The episode of Pranzini had marked her, and also the apostasy of the too famous Father Hyacinthe Loyson, for whom Thérèse had requested her prayers. After the death of the Saint, she addressed to the unfortunate defrocked'Story of a Soul and the passages of the letters where his sister spoke of him. She wrote to him twice. He replied, without giving up hope, by sending biographical details and portraits of his pseudo household. His death, apparently unrepentant, saddened our Carmelite. She rejoiced, towards the end of her life, to learn certain details which strengthened the hypothesis of a conversion in extremis.

On October 30, 1909, informed by Doctor La Néele of a serious clerical scandal in the region of Lisieux, Sister Geneviève wrote to Léonie: "It seems to me that this is not the time to abandon a soul when everyone abandons him. How I would like to be a prison chaplain, to go, as I please, to raise up downcast souls!... I have much more compassion than disgust for withered lilies. Oh ! what would we be if God hadn't preserved us, because we are capable of anything, absolutely anything! »

Like her mother from Avila, like her parents and her glorious sister, Céline has a Catholic soul. She vibrates passionately to everything related to the reign of God. She is a "daughter of the Church", she espouses her cause and all her interests. She professes to have never wanted anything but the truth and asks, on several occasions, that her writings be burned, "without mercy and receiving her mercy", if there are errors in them. This apostolic sense, this Roman fidelity, put the final stamp on his interior life. The child she became at Thérèse's school would retain the soul of a fighter to the end, with the heart of a knight.

“Your sun will never set again because Yahweh will be an eternal light for you and your God will be your glory!...” (Texts from Isaiah particularly dear to Sr Geneviève).

8. Come, Lord Jesus

On July 24, 1897, Sister Geneviève of the Holy Face, alone at the bedside of Thérèse, who was walking with great strides towards death, confided to her this confidence: “You are my ideal, and I cannot attain this ideal. Oh ! how painful! I'm like a little child who isn't aware of distances: in his mother's arms, he stretches out his little hand to grab the curtain, an object... He doesn't realize he's very far away! » — "Yes," replied the Saint mysteriously, "but on the last day, the good Lord will approach his little Celine to everything she has desired, and she will seize everything." »

It was, under another image, the theme of the divine "elevator": grace crowning in beauty the obstinacy of a whole life in a thankless effort. Céline will know this outcome to the full. For a long time, she sensed it, she yearned for it. On December 24, 1926, she wrote to Léonie: "During my thanksgiving, I thought of death, as usual, and I said to myself that it was the greatest action of my life and the most meritorious, an action that I will only do once. Then, I felt an immense desire to accomplish this action as perfectly as possible and I told myself that it would not be enough for me to die of love in an act of perfect love, but that I wanted it to be the love that breaks my bonds.

“I then had the certainty that I would be answered. The good Lord cannot give such desires if he does not want to fulfill them. In truth, I feel quite unworthy of this grace, and my miserable life, entirely external, entirely made up of earthly difficulties, does not seem to dispose me to it, but it is precisely because of my indigence that this grace seems to me easier to obtain. I will present myself before the good Lord, not empty-handed, but with the paraphernalia of all my misdeeds. I summon all my faults to my judgment. Of good deeds, we must no longer speak of them. I gave them to the good God as I went along, and he spent them on souls... I will therefore arrive with the procession of all my miseries, and the good God will be so gentle to me that, unable to bear the sight of so many kindness, the bond that still held me to earth will be broken. »

The call from above seemed to resound the day after that December 12, 1958 when we left Sister Geneviève exhausted by the work she had undertaken to wrap under seal the remains of ashes and objects found in the coffin of her parents, and who did not have to take place in the new tomb. Obviously, she had exceeded her strength. Her energy alone sustained her. "I really don't know what I have today," she sighed. Before ending the day, she wished at length, and in terms of exquisite delicacy, to thank the Sister who, for so many years, had been her admirable nurse. She added gravely: “I have finished everything I had to do; now the good Lord will be able to take me. »

After a restless night, she awoke in a state of extreme weakness, her heart beating no more than twenty-five beats. The Doctor, called urgently, judged the case very serious, if not hopeless. She couldn't contain her joy. “Today is Gaudete Sunday. Rejoice, the Lord is near. Yes, yes, he is coming to get me. Oh ! what happiness! I've been waiting for it for so long! »

One felt quivering within her the dream of eternity which had always possessed her. “I want to see God,” Teresa of Avila exclaimed when, as a child, they caught up with her on the road to the Moors, where she was going with her younger brother, in search of martyrdom. "I want to see God", sang! the soul of Céline, facing the big deadline.

Due to repair work at the Châsse chapel, the statue of the Virgin of the Smile had been taken down. They took him to the infirmary, which had the effect on our patient of a Marian visit. In the evening, she received Extreme Unction, uniting herself attentively to the rites and prayers of the priest. On December 14, new bells were blessed at the Benedictine Abbey in Lisieux. Céline was godmother to one of them. Was her goddaughter going to sound her departure for Heaven?

Energetic remedies got the better of the crisis, immediately, but the causes of the evil remained: myocardial insufficiency, arrhythmia, with complication of renal deficiency and attacks of congestion in the lungs. The diagnosis remained extremely pessimistic: the slightest accident could, in a flash, carry off the patient. She was constantly watched, sitting in her armchair during the day, half lying down at night in the bed she would never leave for the past five weeks.

It was said that this disease would disconcert all forecasts. In the case of a person almost ninety years old and recruited by infirmities and toil, one could expect an imminent and peaceful end, like a candle going out. Now, Sister Geneviève will prolong this struggle against death for seventy-five days, and she will endure, in complete lucidity, true torments of body and soul.

From the moment she was struck down and condemned to a particularly painful immobility for such an active person, she showed an unalterable gentleness, valiantly supporting her multiple pains; she also showed a total availability towards all those who approached her. She lent herself to all treatments, took care to disturb those around her as little as possible, triumphed over weariness or distress, to embellish her remarks with an infectious good humour, and was only worried about the fatigue of those who lavished at his bedside. Opinions in this respect are unanimous. Here is one, particularly authoritative, dated December 25: "Cheerful, lucid, courageous, interested in everything, eager for details and explanations... just as much as Heaven, her beautiful smile, her patience in suffering show to what extent the authentic Spiritual Childhood inspires him. She has a radiance of youthful soul that does good to all who approach her. Really, after having testified by her writings, her depositions, she testifies by her life, at a time when one does not pose. For the rest, everything about her is simple, spontaneous. »

To be complete, it must be added that the nuns entrusted to the care of Sister Geneviève never bargained either their time or their trouble, and that they showed themselves to be of admirable devotion and delicacy, benefiting moreover from the lessons of such an end. As for the Community, it bravely faced the additional work that the event imposed. There was around this dying bed a moral unanimity, an outpouring of charity, which everyone remembers.

***

Three phases in this long agony: until January 18, alternating periods of remission and alerts - from this date to February 5, paroxysm of pain in a mysterious inner ordeal - then relative relaxation, which ends abruptly in death.

During the first weeks, unable to eat, supported by injections and serum, shaken by uncontrollable vomiting which tired her excessively, Sister Geneviève waited, in cheerful serenity, for the moment of the big meeting. "If I fall into a coma, she said on December 23, my death may not be very beautiful, but I think it's now that counts, and I see that the good Lord is helping me, I I feel calm and full of confidence. The Mother Prioress having declared that the fruits of Spiritual Childhood were observed in her, she humbly remarked: "Perhaps Little Thérèse wants to show in her Céline that one can remain small and simple, even in the most extreme old age. But we must always say: “All our works, Lord, it is you who have done them. Yes, it's him alone, because I could well be seized by temptations of sadness and also of fear. And it's true that I'm not at all, not at all, afraid of the good Lord. Oh ! I will be so happy to see him, to see his Humanity! I wanted it so much! However, I have offended him, but, all the same, I am not afraid, and I summon all my miseries to his Tribunal. I am quite sure that Jesus will say to me, as to the woman in the Gospel: “Go, my daughter, your sins are forgiven you! »

That same evening, she returned to this chapter: "Yes, I believe that the good Lord wants to show how much those who walk in the "little Way" of humility, simplicity and trust, are pleasing to him, and how much he helps them in the hour of trial, because, of ourselves, we are good for nothing. » — « I see as clear as day, she will say again, that only Spiritual Childhood can give us true peace of heart and the grace of being in the hands of the good God. like a little child. »

On Christmas Eve, the thought of Mercy imposes itself on her. “How can I be afraid of the good Lord? I have always revolved around Him. I remember that when the image of the Shroud of Turin was brought to me, I cried with joy to see its true face. I tried to paint her, but now I will see her for good. I think I will "die again" of happiness. And also to see the truth in all things, I who have always hungered and thirsted for justice. »

For a long time, she meditated on the beautiful prophetic verses: "His rising is sure like that of the dawn" (Hosea). “Yes, upon you Jehovah will arise, and his glory will shine upon you; your Sun will no longer set, but Jehovah will be an eternal light to you, and your God will be your glory. I, Jehovah, will hasten these things in their time” (Isaiah). “I cannot say, she wrote, the vibrations of my heart at these words; they surpass all feeling... Let my God be my glory. Until the end, she will encourage herself with these phrases of hope. The day of the Nativity of the Lord was all fragrant with it. “I am, she said, like a weary traveler who finally sees the doors of the paternal house open in front of him. »

On Saint-Etienne, a nun placed before her the portrait of her little nephew, a toddler of three months, on his mother's lap. She was moved by it and never tired of looking at him. “It's my image, that's how I want to be in the arms of God. This child is there, abandoned, with all his weakness, and it is precisely for this that his mother takes pity on him and presses him to her heart with so much love. If he were a little bigger, he could be self-sufficient, and his mother would have less pity for him. It's like this little one I want to be, and the good Lord, my Father, my darling Daddy, will take me in his arms. I will have his pity. Have his pity, that's all. The doctor, to whom she asked if the Lord would soon come to fetch her, declared that she was "unique", that he had indeed seen sick people wishing to die, but to escape suffering, whereas she, she wished to see God.

Sister Geneviève, who kept under her strong character a pretty touch of candor, used to end the year by writing: “Joseph, Mary, Jesus”, wanting the divine Name to have its last thought. On January XNUMX, the same formula, but reversed, served her as her first greeting to those she loved more than anything. For the last time, she performed this rite, putting all her filial piety into it. That day, she had the happy surprise of a telegram from Pope John XXIII, bringing her, “as a pledge of the most abundant graces of peace and abandonment to God, a special Apostolic Blessing”.

On January 18, it was discovered that she was holding her left eye closed. They asked her if she suffered from it. "No, no," she specified in a relaxed tone, "it's because he's dead... But that doesn't matter at all... I gave him to God." Oh ! you shouldn't blame him for having passed away, because he worked well during his life, and now he couldn't do anything; so I thank God for it. »

As they said to her: "Your whole family is getting ready to welcome you", she replied: "Yes, I would be very happy, but what interests me most, and very closely, is Our Lord and the Blessed Virgin... To know everything about him, about his life, I can't think of it! In the evening, quite unexpectedly, new alarming symptoms appeared. She greeted this sudden aggravation with her best smile.

The next day, at her request, her nurse begged the gardener to forgive her for all the trouble she had caused him when she was busy with the work. She again received the Community with a mixture of affection and cheerfulness, which brought out her astonishing presence of mind. Thinking of Saint Sebastian, whose feast was just around the corner, she sang the old refrain:

"O great Saint Sebastian To whom God refuses nothing..." Wouldn't he be his introducer into the afterlife? Vain hope. Sister Geneviève's predictions were immediately foiled. Deeply disappointed, she exclaimed: “I'm going to do like Saint Sebastian, I'm going to heal from my first wounds. I will die in disbelief of my death. »

On the 21st, in an interview with the Mother Prioress, she insisted on emphasizing the capital role of humility in Spiritual Childhood. She added: “Humility has been the companion of my life; it is through her that I entered the Little Way. Humility is the carpet on which I have always wanted to walk. »

The next day she was able to receive the Host in the afternoon. But the most painful period of the disease was beginning. This state, close to agony, lasted more than a fortnight. More and more overwhelmed, tortured by thirst and no longer able to drink, gnawed by an inner fire and shot through with the sharp stings of rheumatism, Sister Geneviève felt, moreover, in the depths of herself, a feeling of dereliction. “When will the door open? Does the good Lord still love me, since he doesn't come looking for me? Oh ! my Thérèse, see in what distress I am! She felt violent blows on her back. "How can you not hear?" she moaned. She begged, several times, that the blessed candle be lit and that holy water be sprinkled on her.

It became impossible for him to communicate every day. She herself had taken down her little crucifix from the wall, which she will keep in her right hand from now on, without ever loosening the grip during these weeks of terrible inner crisis. From time to time she lifted it to her lips and whispered in a broken voice, syllable by syllable, to encourage herself: "Break the web of this sweet encounter." O my Jesus, I want to love you with all my heart, madly, with all my strength, yes, with all my strength, madly...” She held the rosary in the same way, entwined on her wrist and clung to it. with all his faith.

She offered this martyrdom for the cause of her parents. “It is not to see them exalted. Oh ! No ! It is to do good to Christian homes. I have always sought only the glory of God, yes, to make him known and loved. She also prayed for the priests, who had always been one of her main concerns. It was suggested to him that he think of Christian unity and the Ecumenical Council, the Pope having just made public his intention of bringing it together. She seemed very interested and gasped under her breath: "One flock, one shepherd!" »

The mystery of suffering revealed all its secrets to her, now that she was completely immersed in the furnace. His countenance was changing. She put on expressions that seized the nuns who came to see her intermittently. His reflections showed that the soul was going all in the direction of Calvary: “It's expensive! I had so desired martyrdom, to have a Passion. — "It's the good Lord who does that." — "He is good, the good Lord!" Oh ! how good it is! The question which had always troubled her, that of the direct action of Heaven in our human sufferings, found its solution in her dying gaze, in a sort of superior intuition, in a personal experience which, uniting her together to Christ and to his cross, showed him that Love immolates through love. She herself underlined it by evoking the notes in which she had recorded her thoughts on this subject. “It is only love united with suffering that counts. Yes, love united with suffering. » — « It is Jesus who wills it. » — « Amor Sacerdos immolate. The Love is the priest-sacrificer. This line from the Easter hymn consoled her.

Until February 5, Sister Geneviève will literally be under the press, awaiting a death always deferred. The heart flinched and then started again, causing feelings of suffocation. She had, she said, "the chest full of water." The swelling of the body, the rheumatic pains in one leg and in the heels, made the stay in bed intolerable; his weakness prevented him from getting out of it. To this was added the anxiety of the soul, subjected to a strange work which tore from it plaintive cries: "It's indefinable, inexpressible!... How hard!... how long !... how cruel!...” Then, immediately: “Jesus, I was in love with Him... I want to love Him with passion. As they moistened her mouth with ice: "I thirst for the waters of eternal life," she sighed, as if talking to herself.

When they praised her for her courage or alluded to her death of love, she corrected herself on the spot, quoting a text from the prophet Isaiah: "All our works, Lord, it is you who have done them for us. On January 27, we hear him murmur: "A little lamb at the stake!" Oh ! pity, my Jesus! In me, I feel evolutions which are not natural and which one cannot explain. It's like fumes of fire and fumes of ice. — "And you don't feel helped by Heaven?" “, we insinuate at his side. - " Oh ! No ! not

All. I only have you, my darlings, who relieved me. Otherwise, everything is hidden. She worries about those who look after her, about their fatigue, their meals, their rest. “They won't hold it! »

Apart from certain moments of prostration, she has not lost her vitality of spirit. She still has words with a punch, words full of originality, which make doctors smile, as much as they astonish and edify them: "It is written in the Gospel that Our Lord bowed his head and expired. I, too, try to bow my head, but, alas! death does not come. When we take her pulse, she asks: “How is he, my old heart? Asking for a little water from what she calls her "General Staff", she sings the popular refrain: "Friends aren't so crazy as to leave without a drink!" "Never, we observe, has one seen dying so amusing!" - "Or so ill," she hastens to add.

At certain hours, the torments that rarely leave her reach a paroxysm. Overwhelmed, but not discouraged, she turns to Heaven: “What distress! My God, my God, why have you abandoned me? I don't die in transport. I suffer in myself a distress... of body and soul. My God ! Have mercy on me. Then again: "I feel symptoms of death and assaults of life." Everyone comes around her to wish for the fatal outcome. She herself begs that nothing be done to prolong her life. “I couldn't be more prepared, and everything is so peaceful! His confidence remains unaltered: "O my God, you know my folly, and my faults are not hidden from you, but you will forgive me everything... everything... everything..."

On January 30, she thinks she is dying, but, once again, life does not want to leave her. “I feel shivers everywhere, some hot like fire, and others freezing. I'm on a red grill like Saint Laurent. My legs seem dead... the blood no longer circulates. I endure a real martyrdom. Then, looking tenderly at those watching over her: "And you're going through it with me!... My God, have pity on my little nurses!" "Here's an agony that can count," she sighed on February 3. But I wouldn't want to suffer less...” Several times, she repeated: “When am I going to give up my ghost?... It's a flogging. »

The desire to see Jesus rose in her, like a flame that consumes everything. Was it the supreme purification, like an image of Purgatory? Or rather the consummation of a vehement desire to redeem sinners and cooperate in Therese's mission? In this unusual resistance of the organism to all the forces of destruction, in this fervor of charity which disappointment and night of faith could not break down, the witnesses dimly foresaw the action of a supernatural power. A missive dated February 3 reflects this unanimous impression. It emanates from the Mother Prioress of Carmel.

“As Sister Geneviève said to me: “In what depths I am! I answered: "Reduced to nothing and in supreme humiliation." " - " Oh ! yes, that's it exactly. — But Saint John of the Cross specifies that it is then that the soul reaches the highest state it can reach in this life. - Yes, but I do not feel it! »

The letter continues: “What identification with the Jesus of Calvary! It is the most deeply moving and illuminating thing I have experienced in religion. What glory awaits him! »

***

February 5 marked the sixty-fourth anniversary of the Taking of the Habit of Sister Geneviève. The vomiting having momentarily ceased, she was able to take communion. She gave a charming welcome to the Community, who had come to greet her “on her stake”. Eyelids heavy with fatigue, she excused herself pleasantly, quoting the two verses that she and Thérèse had once posted in Léonie's bedroom, which was very prone to drowsiness:

My eyes are closing in the light of day

When, after my dinner, I don't take a walk.

Although both lungs were congested and the heart remained extremely deficient and capricious, it seemed that the disease was slightly lessened. The vise had loosened somewhat. They spoke to him of telegrams received, friends in turmoil, news requested from everywhere. She smiled wickedly. "This is to tell you how much my death will be greeted with actions

thanks! But it is still I who will greet her the lowest! As we wondered about the future: “Oh! let's leave it, she protested, we've pushed so many dates forward, and it ends in a fishtail... It's like the mountain giving birth to a mouse. She thought wistfully of the missed opportunity: 'Oh! how is it, in such a precarious life, and at ninety years old, that one cannot let go? »

On February 10, finding herself a little less tired, she came back on her own to the tragic days she had lived through: “I still suffer but it's not the same. You cannot know. I believe the devil had some permission over me to torment me. I couldn't understand that you couldn't hear the dark but very strong blows he was giving me... Fortunately, he can't do anything at all, because the Lord fights for me. On the 11th, she made this humble and resigned reflection: "When will the good Lord, in his great goodness, judge that I have suffered enough?" »

On February 13, Mother Prioress read her a letter from a consecrated soul who, in danger of a vocation, rejoiced to learn that the sister of Saint Thérèse was thinking of her. "Doesn't she despise me?" she asked. The patient raised her arms and repeated several times: "Scorn her!" But I love her, yes, I love her, and I will always pray for her; tell him. »

The improvement that began on February 5 was growing day by day. The congestion in the lungs had almost disappeared, the uraemia also. The lines were no longer drawn. The patient had regained her normal voice. Although she could only take a little liquid, her strength seemed to be returning. However, she was still grappling with all sorts of miseries, in particular an acute rheumatism which was sawing off her feet. She still knew hours of atrocious torture. " Oh ! tell me, she asked on February 17, is it today that my Sun will no longer set? O happy morning when people will say: Sister Geneviève is dead! »

The next day, as she insistently expressed her desire, the doctor tried to seat her in his chair. She lent herself to it valiantly, but had to see that her legs did not carry her much. When she got back to bed, she felt happy to have experienced for herself, like Saint Thomas, what she was capable of. That same day, she said in a cheerful tone: “Since they don't want me up there, well! I'm going to eat. And she detailed the menu, while taking care to add: "while waiting for the good Lord, in his great goodness, to find that it is time to come and fetch me." It was the last word of surrender. After so many feverish desires, she acceded to the holy indifference, which relies totally on the divine plan. No doubt the Master was only waiting, to come and take her, for this supreme testimony of love.

More than ever she let herself go, accepting the servitude and the distressing rhythm of sick life. As they were wedging her into bed with pillows, she exclaimed: "Am I imprisoned!...with four, five and six exclamation marks!...Finally, I have to reason with myself." And that same day: "After all, what would be the use of getting out of here?" This is where the good Lord wants me. »

On the 22nd, she confided in her faithful nurse: “I'm only thinking about everything that happened to me in this illness. I assure you that it was very mysterious. Do you remember when you said to me: “My little Céline, perhaps the good Lord will come and get you this evening! Listening to you, I said to myself: “Come on, am I Céline? Did I exist? Did I have a personality? If you knew how I was locked away from everything! You can't make up your mind. Oh ! how strange! and what suffering! We cannot imagine it. It makes me think of a story that we read, Thérèse and I when we were little. And she began to tell this story again, but her spirits quickly ran out of steam. On the 23rd, the Community was struck by the exhaustion which marked its face. The 24th was the anniversary of his Profession. The Chaplain brought him Communion. As he had presented his wishes to her by letter, she thanked him with a smile. She never stopped admiring two beautiful wreaths of flowers, providentially offered to the Tour, the day before that day. In the same morning, a crisis of suffocation occurred, accompanied by a most worrying drop in tension. The doctor deemed the danger imminent. Despite her weakness and prostration, the dying woman retained her lucidity entirely. In the afternoon, she called the Sister who was caring for her to tell her: “All the same, I think that this time it's a good move. Oh ! what happiness! As they were about to give her an injection, she gently remarked, "Why not let the lamp go out little by little, since I am not in pain and everything is peaceful?" »

Watched continually by her Sisters in prayer, she passed the night in peace, happy with the announced deliverance. At dawn, she stirred a little, but without suffering. “That's good for today,” the Mother Prioress told her. - " Today ! she repeated, as if savoring her joy. — "Yes, you are fighting, it is a hard fight!" But you will have the victory, because Jesus is with you. In a tone of triumph, her gaze veiled, but extremely lucid, Sister Geneviève resumed: “Jesus! ". It was his last word. She expressed the tenderness of her whole life.

A light sweat beaded on his forehead. The face, however, remained peaceful, almost radiant. Around 9 a.m., the Community recited the Act of Offering to Merciful Love. The patient manifested by signs that she united to it. As the doctor arrived, all the nuns retired. It was then that, suddenly immobilizing herself, straightened up on her pillows, Sister Geneviève opened her eyes full of light and stared up at them, in an attitude of suave joy. The doctor, impressed, knelt down, then stepped aside, realizing that this was the end. The Community returned immediately and was able to contemplate this spectacle which lasted from eight to ten minutes. There was in the dying woman a kind of majesty, a sovereign tranquillity, in which could be read the certainty of the welcome full of tenderness that her Father would give her. The posture remained firm, the head remained erect, even in death. Only the breath which died out imperceptibly, and a slight contraction of the throat, marked the death. It was Wednesday, February 25, 1959, at 9 a.m. 25 in the morning. Sister Geneviève of the Holy Face was eighty-nine years and ten months old.

The death hardly known, the knell of the bells of the Basilica echoed that of Carmel, but something triumphant emerged within the regrets. The radio announced the news and from everywhere came telegrams of condolence. That of Pope John XXIII, who had once presided over the Jubilee of the deceased, was imbued with a moving paternal tenderness.

The body was exposed until the evening of the 27th, in the inner choir where the nuns say the Office. It was, during the three days, an incessant procession of the faithful, sometimes coming from very far away, even from abroad. One never tired of contemplating, behind the railings, that face which Therese had loved so much, and which bore, with the mark of the cross, an august serenity. “That earns us a pension,” observed some assistants.

The funeral took place on Saturday, February 28. They were honored by the presence of four Bishops: those of Bayeux and Évreux, the Auxiliary of Sées and Mgr Fallaize. After Mass, His Exc. Mgr Jacquemin, Ordinary of the place, ascended the pulpit to underline the exceptional bonds of intimacy which had united Sister Geneviève to her glorious little Sister. Above all, he insisted on the ultimate lesson of this life and this death: the sovereign effectiveness of the Way of Spiritual Childhood to carry the soul to the heights of union and to fertilize its apostolate.

The clergy, who had come in large numbers, then entered the enclosure and lined up in the Choir, in front of the nuns. The three absolves were sung a capella by the Carmelite Fathers. The first was given by the Very Reverend Father Paul Philippe, Commissioner General of the Holy Office, who was both the representative of the Holy See and the personal delegate of His Em. Cardinal Ottaviani; the second went to the Very Reverend Father General of the Discalced Carmelites; the third to His Exc. Bishop Jacquemin.

The Carmelite Fathers, dressed in their white coats, then took the coffin and carried it to the entrance of the vault, under the chapel of the Châsse, where already rested, in the shadow of Thérèse, Mother Agnès of Jesus and Sister Marie of the Sacred Heart. A psalm verse, engraved in stone, protects their last sleep. Sister Geneviève herself had chosen it, because it translates her lifelong dream, finally realized: “You have hidden them, Lord, in the secret of your face. »