TWO POOR CHILDREN
Two children were destined to be the witnesses of
Mary's apparition at LaSalette: Maximin Giraud
and Melanie Calvat.
They were very poor, but without guile,
simple and straight-forward.
Maximin Giraud lived in the town of Corps with his father,
a wheelwright by trade. He was only 17 months old when
his mother died. His father soon remarried.
Maximin grew up in haphazard fashion, spending much
of his time with carefree abandon in the company of his
dog and goat as they roamed the streets of Corps.
Attendance at school was not compulsory and so he never frequented classes. The same
was true with regard to religious instructions.
Maximin spoke the patois or local dialect as did everybody in town, but he did learn a few
words of French as he circulated among the wagon-drivers and travelers at the stage coach
relays. He was 11 years old in 1846.
Melanie would soon be fifteen years of age but she did not look it. She too was from Corps.
Her father was a pitsawyer by trade but did not hesitate to take whatever job he could find
because of the large family he had to support; between 1827 and 1844 nine children were
born to the Calvat couple. Melanie was the fourth.
She was hired out as a shepherdess by the farmers of the locality before she was 10 years
old. In the spring of 1846 she was in the service of the Pra family at Albandins, on of the
hamlets of LaSalette.
Such a life away from home caused her to grow up puny and withdrawn. She also was
unable to read or write. As she was never present at the catechism classes, the local pastor
was unable to admit her to First Communion.
Neither of the children knew each other, as Melanie only returned to Corps during the winter
months.
ONE DAY IN AUTUMN
During mid-September, 1846, one of the farmers of Ablandins, Pierre Selme, was in need of
a cow-herder as his regular shepherd was sick. So he descended to Corps and called upon
his friend, the wheelwright Giraud.
"Loan me your son Maximin for a few days," he said to Giraud.
"Memin, a shepherd? He is much too scatterbrained for that!"
They argued and finally came to terms and thus, on September 14th, young Maximin arrived
at Ablandins.
On the 17th, he noticed Melanie in the hamlet. On the 18th they went together to watch over
their cows on the communal grazing lands on the slopes of the mountain known as "sous les
Baisses" (now, le Planeau).
During the afternoon, Maximin tried to converse with Melanie, but she at first remained
sullen. They did, however, learn that they had one thing in common: they both came from
Corps. As a result they became more friendly and agreed they would watch over their cows
tomorrow in the same place.
So on Saturday, September 19th, 1846, the two children climbed the mountain at sunrise,
each prodding the four cows confined to each other's care, with Maximin's goat and dog
tagging along.
When the Angelus rang at noon from the steeple of the LaSalette village church nestled in
the valley far below, the two shepherds led their cows toward "the fountain of the beasts", a
little pool of water formed by the stream with flowed down the ravine of the Sezia. (This pool
was located a few meters above where the present-day bridge is located over which the
pilgrims reach the church and visitors' residences.)
Then they chased their cows toward a grassy knoll on the slopes of nearby Mount Gargas
(where the winding outdoor procession takes place daily). It was warm and the cows laid
down to chew the cud.
Meanwhile, Miximin and Melanie climbed the hillock to the "fountain of the men" on the left
bank of the stream.
Neat the fountain the children sat and ate their noonday meal of bread and cheese. Two
boys and a girl, who had been watching over their cows in the dale lower down, arrived at
the fountain and stopped to chat briefly.
After they had left Maximin and Melanie descended a few feet and crossed the stream where
there was a pile of stones and, close by, the empty hollow of a dried-up stream which flowed
only after the melting snow or when there was an abundant rainfall. It was known as the "little
fountain". (The next day, September 20, it would be observed that this dried-up fountain had
begun to flow again, and it has never ceased flowing since.)
A GLOBE OF FIRE
Near this little fountain, the two children lay down on the grass and fell asleep. How long
their slumber lasted is not certain - half an hour perhaps, or three quarters an hour, or
possibly more.
In any case, Melanie suddenly awoke and called Maximin.
"Memin, Memin, let us go and find our cows, I cannot see them anywhere."
Of course, being at the bottom of the little ravine, they could not see the meadow where they
had left them. Quickly they climbed the slopes opposite Mount Gargas. Turning around they
could view the entire alpine pasture land and were greatly relieved to see that their cows
had remained where they had been left, peaceable chewing the cud.
Reassured, Melanie began to redescend toward the dried-up fountain to recover her little
sack of provisions before once again watering the cows.
Half-way down the grassy slope she paused immobilized, frozen with fear.
"Memin," she called out, "look at that great light over there."
"Where is it," the boy replied, as he ran and stood at her side.
At the very spot where they had slept was a globe of fire. In the children's words, it was as if
the sun had fallen there.
The light swirled, then grew in size and, opening, disclosed within it a woman, seated, her
head in her hands, her elbows on her knees, in the attitude of one oppressed with grief.
Melanie, in her fright, raised her hands and dropped her shepherd's staff, Maximin though
only of defending himself.
"Keep your stick," he said to her, "I will keep mine and will give it a good whack if it does
anything to us."
Even after she conversed with them, the children could not identify their heavenly Visitor.
They would simply call her "the Beautiful Lady".
THE BEAUTIFUL LADY
The beautiful Lady now stood up while the children
remained transfixed where they were.
"Come near, my children, be not afraid. I am here
to tell you great news," she said to them in French.
Fully reassured by those words, the children hurried
to meet her. Her voice, they said, was like music. They
approached so near her that, as they later expressed it,
another person could not have passed between them
and her. The Lady also took a few steps toward them.
They looked at her and noticed that she did not cease weeping all the time she spoke to
them. As Maximin put it, "She was like a mama whom her own children had beaten and who
had escaped to the mountain to weep."
The beautiful Lady was tall and seemed to be made of light. She was dressed like women of
the region with a long dress, an apron nearly as long as the dress, a shawl that crossed
over her breast and was knotted in the back, and a cap or bonnet similar to the ones worn
by peasant women.
Roses crowned her head while another wreath of roses adorned the edges of her white
shawl and a third garland surrounded her shoes. Over her brow shone a light in the form of
a diadem.
On her shoulders shone a heavy chain and from a smaller golden chain hung a resplendent
crucifix with a hammer and pincers placed on each side of the Cross, a little beyond the
nailed hands.
THE MESSAGE
The unknown Lady now spoke to the children.
"We were drinking her words," they would say later, adding, "she wept all the time she spoke
to us."
Come near, my children, be not afraid; I am here to tell you great news.
If my people will not submit, I shall be forced to let fall the arm of my Son. It is so strong, so
heavy, that I can no longer withhold it.
For how long a time do I suffer for you! If I would not have my Son abandon you, I am
compelled to pray to him without ceasing; and as to you, you take not heed of it.
However much you pray, however much you do, you will never recompense the pains I have
taken for you.
Six days I have given you to labor, the seventh I had kept for myself; and they will not give it
to me. It is this which makes the arm of my Son so heavy.
Those who drive the carts cannot swear without introducing the name of my Son. These are
the two things which makes the arm of my Son so heavy.
If the harvest is spoilt, it is all on your account. I have you
warning last year with the potatoes ('pommes de terre')
but you did not heed it. On the contrary, when you found
the potatoes spoilt, you swore, you took the name of
my Son in vain. They will continue to decay, so that
by Christmas there will be none left.
The French expression, "pommes de terre", intrigued Melanie. In the local dialect the word
for potatoes was "las truffas", whereas "pommes" for Melanie meant the fruit of the apple
tree. Hence she instinctively turned toward Maximin for an explanation, but the Beautiful
Lady forestalled her.
Ah, my children, do you not understand? Well, wait, I shall say it otherwise.
If you have wheat, it is no good to sow it; all you sow the insects will eat, and what comes up
will fall into dust when you thresh it.
There will come a great famine.
Before the famine comes, the children under seven years of age will be seized with trembling
and will die in the hands of those who hold them; the others will do penance by the famine.
The walnuts will become bad, and the grapes will rot.
Here the Beautiful Lady addressed the children separately, confiding to each a secret. She
spoke first to Maximin, and though the little shepherd did not perceive that her tone of voice
had changed, Melanie at his side could not hear a word, though she still saw the Beautiful
Lady's lips moving.
Then came Melanie's turn to receive her secret under similar conditions. Both secrets were
given in French.
Again, addressing the two children in the idiom familiar to them, the Lady continued:
If they are converted, the stones and rocks will change into mounds of wheat, and the
potatoes will be self-sown in the land.
Do you say your prayers well, my children?
Both answered with complete frankness. "Not very well, Madam."
Ah, my children, you must be sure to say them well morning and evening. When you cannot
do better, say at least an Our Father and a Hail Mary. When you have time, say more.
There are none who go to Mass except a few aged women. The rest work on Sunday all
summer; then in the winter, when they know not what to do, they go to Mass only to mock at
religion.
During Lent, they go to the meat-market like dogs.
Have you never seen wheat that is spoilt, my children?
"No, Madam," they replied.
But you, my child, you must surely have seen some once when you were at the farm of Coin
with your father.
The owner of the field told your father to go and
see his ruined wheat. You went together. You took
two or three ears of wheat into your hands and rubbed
them, and they fell to dust.
Then you continued home. When you were still half and
hour's distance from Corps, your father gave you a piece
of bread and said to you: "Here, my child, eat some bread
this year at least; I don't know who will eat any next year,
if the wheat goes on like that."
Confronted with such precise details, Maximin eagerly
replied, "Oh yes, Madam, I remember now; just at this
moment I did not remember."
Then the Lady, again speaking French as the beginning of her discourse and when giving
the secrets, said to them:
Well, my children, you will make this known to all my people.
These were her last words.
Meanwhile, the two witnesses were still standing motionless at the spot where the
conversation had taken place, when suddenly they realized that the heavenly Visitor was
already some steps away from them.
In their eagerness to join her again, they ran across the brook and were with her in a
moment. Thus, in the company of Maximin and Melanie, the Lady moved along, gliding over
the tips of the grass without touching it, until she reached the top of the hillock where the
children, after their sleep, had gone to look after their cows. Melanie proceeded her by a few
steps, and Maximin was at her right.
On reaching the summit, the Lady paused for a few seconds, then slowly rose up to a height
of a meter and a half. She remained suspended in the air for a moment, raised her eyes to
Heaven, then glanced in the direction of the southeast.
At that moment, Melanie, who had been standing at the left of the Lady, came in front in
order to see her better. Only then did she notice that the celestial Visitor had ceased
weeping, although her features remained very sad.
The radiant vision now began to disappear.
"We saw her head no more, then the rest of the body no more; she seemed to melt away.
There remained a great light," Maximin related, "as well as the roses at her feet which I tried
to catch with my hands, but there was nothing more."
"We looked for a long time," Melanie added, "to see if we could not have another glimpse of
her, but the Beautiful Lady had disappeared forever."
The little shepherdess then remarked to her companion, "Perhaps it was a great Saint."
"If we had known it was a great Saint," said Maximin, "we would have asked her to take us
with her."
Two children were destined to be the witnesses of
Mary's apparition at LaSalette: Maximin Giraud
and Melanie Calvat.
They were very poor, but without guile,
simple and straight-forward.
Maximin Giraud lived in the town of Corps with his father,
a wheelwright by trade. He was only 17 months old when
his mother died. His father soon remarried.
Maximin grew up in haphazard fashion, spending much
of his time with carefree abandon in the company of his
dog and goat as they roamed the streets of Corps.
Attendance at school was not compulsory and so he never frequented classes. The same
was true with regard to religious instructions.
Maximin spoke the patois or local dialect as did everybody in town, but he did learn a few
words of French as he circulated among the wagon-drivers and travelers at the stage coach
relays. He was 11 years old in 1846.
Melanie would soon be fifteen years of age but she did not look it. She too was from Corps.
Her father was a pitsawyer by trade but did not hesitate to take whatever job he could find
because of the large family he had to support; between 1827 and 1844 nine children were
born to the Calvat couple. Melanie was the fourth.
She was hired out as a shepherdess by the farmers of the locality before she was 10 years
old. In the spring of 1846 she was in the service of the Pra family at Albandins, on of the
hamlets of LaSalette.
Such a life away from home caused her to grow up puny and withdrawn. She also was
unable to read or write. As she was never present at the catechism classes, the local pastor
was unable to admit her to First Communion.
Neither of the children knew each other, as Melanie only returned to Corps during the winter
months.
ONE DAY IN AUTUMN
During mid-September, 1846, one of the farmers of Ablandins, Pierre Selme, was in need of
a cow-herder as his regular shepherd was sick. So he descended to Corps and called upon
his friend, the wheelwright Giraud.
"Loan me your son Maximin for a few days," he said to Giraud.
"Memin, a shepherd? He is much too scatterbrained for that!"
They argued and finally came to terms and thus, on September 14th, young Maximin arrived
at Ablandins.
On the 17th, he noticed Melanie in the hamlet. On the 18th they went together to watch over
their cows on the communal grazing lands on the slopes of the mountain known as "sous les
Baisses" (now, le Planeau).
During the afternoon, Maximin tried to converse with Melanie, but she at first remained
sullen. They did, however, learn that they had one thing in common: they both came from
Corps. As a result they became more friendly and agreed they would watch over their cows
tomorrow in the same place.
So on Saturday, September 19th, 1846, the two children climbed the mountain at sunrise,
each prodding the four cows confined to each other's care, with Maximin's goat and dog
tagging along.
When the Angelus rang at noon from the steeple of the LaSalette village church nestled in
the valley far below, the two shepherds led their cows toward "the fountain of the beasts", a
little pool of water formed by the stream with flowed down the ravine of the Sezia. (This pool
was located a few meters above where the present-day bridge is located over which the
pilgrims reach the church and visitors' residences.)
Then they chased their cows toward a grassy knoll on the slopes of nearby Mount Gargas
(where the winding outdoor procession takes place daily). It was warm and the cows laid
down to chew the cud.
Meanwhile, Miximin and Melanie climbed the hillock to the "fountain of the men" on the left
bank of the stream.
Neat the fountain the children sat and ate their noonday meal of bread and cheese. Two
boys and a girl, who had been watching over their cows in the dale lower down, arrived at
the fountain and stopped to chat briefly.
After they had left Maximin and Melanie descended a few feet and crossed the stream where
there was a pile of stones and, close by, the empty hollow of a dried-up stream which flowed
only after the melting snow or when there was an abundant rainfall. It was known as the "little
fountain". (The next day, September 20, it would be observed that this dried-up fountain had
begun to flow again, and it has never ceased flowing since.)
A GLOBE OF FIRE
Near this little fountain, the two children lay down on the grass and fell asleep. How long
their slumber lasted is not certain - half an hour perhaps, or three quarters an hour, or
possibly more.
In any case, Melanie suddenly awoke and called Maximin.
"Memin, Memin, let us go and find our cows, I cannot see them anywhere."
Of course, being at the bottom of the little ravine, they could not see the meadow where they
had left them. Quickly they climbed the slopes opposite Mount Gargas. Turning around they
could view the entire alpine pasture land and were greatly relieved to see that their cows
had remained where they had been left, peaceable chewing the cud.
Reassured, Melanie began to redescend toward the dried-up fountain to recover her little
sack of provisions before once again watering the cows.
Half-way down the grassy slope she paused immobilized, frozen with fear.
"Memin," she called out, "look at that great light over there."
"Where is it," the boy replied, as he ran and stood at her side.
At the very spot where they had slept was a globe of fire. In the children's words, it was as if
the sun had fallen there.
The light swirled, then grew in size and, opening, disclosed within it a woman, seated, her
head in her hands, her elbows on her knees, in the attitude of one oppressed with grief.
Melanie, in her fright, raised her hands and dropped her shepherd's staff, Maximin though
only of defending himself.
"Keep your stick," he said to her, "I will keep mine and will give it a good whack if it does
anything to us."
Even after she conversed with them, the children could not identify their heavenly Visitor.
They would simply call her "the Beautiful Lady".
THE BEAUTIFUL LADY
The beautiful Lady now stood up while the children
remained transfixed where they were.
"Come near, my children, be not afraid. I am here
to tell you great news," she said to them in French.
Fully reassured by those words, the children hurried
to meet her. Her voice, they said, was like music. They
approached so near her that, as they later expressed it,
another person could not have passed between them
and her. The Lady also took a few steps toward them.
They looked at her and noticed that she did not cease weeping all the time she spoke to
them. As Maximin put it, "She was like a mama whom her own children had beaten and who
had escaped to the mountain to weep."
The beautiful Lady was tall and seemed to be made of light. She was dressed like women of
the region with a long dress, an apron nearly as long as the dress, a shawl that crossed
over her breast and was knotted in the back, and a cap or bonnet similar to the ones worn
by peasant women.
Roses crowned her head while another wreath of roses adorned the edges of her white
shawl and a third garland surrounded her shoes. Over her brow shone a light in the form of
a diadem.
On her shoulders shone a heavy chain and from a smaller golden chain hung a resplendent
crucifix with a hammer and pincers placed on each side of the Cross, a little beyond the
nailed hands.
THE MESSAGE
The unknown Lady now spoke to the children.
"We were drinking her words," they would say later, adding, "she wept all the time she spoke
to us."
Come near, my children, be not afraid; I am here to tell you great news.
If my people will not submit, I shall be forced to let fall the arm of my Son. It is so strong, so
heavy, that I can no longer withhold it.
For how long a time do I suffer for you! If I would not have my Son abandon you, I am
compelled to pray to him without ceasing; and as to you, you take not heed of it.
However much you pray, however much you do, you will never recompense the pains I have
taken for you.
Six days I have given you to labor, the seventh I had kept for myself; and they will not give it
to me. It is this which makes the arm of my Son so heavy.
Those who drive the carts cannot swear without introducing the name of my Son. These are
the two things which makes the arm of my Son so heavy.
If the harvest is spoilt, it is all on your account. I have you
warning last year with the potatoes ('pommes de terre')
but you did not heed it. On the contrary, when you found
the potatoes spoilt, you swore, you took the name of
my Son in vain. They will continue to decay, so that
by Christmas there will be none left.
The French expression, "pommes de terre", intrigued Melanie. In the local dialect the word
for potatoes was "las truffas", whereas "pommes" for Melanie meant the fruit of the apple
tree. Hence she instinctively turned toward Maximin for an explanation, but the Beautiful
Lady forestalled her.
Ah, my children, do you not understand? Well, wait, I shall say it otherwise.
If you have wheat, it is no good to sow it; all you sow the insects will eat, and what comes up
will fall into dust when you thresh it.
There will come a great famine.
Before the famine comes, the children under seven years of age will be seized with trembling
and will die in the hands of those who hold them; the others will do penance by the famine.
The walnuts will become bad, and the grapes will rot.
Here the Beautiful Lady addressed the children separately, confiding to each a secret. She
spoke first to Maximin, and though the little shepherd did not perceive that her tone of voice
had changed, Melanie at his side could not hear a word, though she still saw the Beautiful
Lady's lips moving.
Then came Melanie's turn to receive her secret under similar conditions. Both secrets were
given in French.
Again, addressing the two children in the idiom familiar to them, the Lady continued:
If they are converted, the stones and rocks will change into mounds of wheat, and the
potatoes will be self-sown in the land.
Do you say your prayers well, my children?
Both answered with complete frankness. "Not very well, Madam."
Ah, my children, you must be sure to say them well morning and evening. When you cannot
do better, say at least an Our Father and a Hail Mary. When you have time, say more.
There are none who go to Mass except a few aged women. The rest work on Sunday all
summer; then in the winter, when they know not what to do, they go to Mass only to mock at
religion.
During Lent, they go to the meat-market like dogs.
Have you never seen wheat that is spoilt, my children?
"No, Madam," they replied.
But you, my child, you must surely have seen some once when you were at the farm of Coin
with your father.
The owner of the field told your father to go and
see his ruined wheat. You went together. You took
two or three ears of wheat into your hands and rubbed
them, and they fell to dust.
Then you continued home. When you were still half and
hour's distance from Corps, your father gave you a piece
of bread and said to you: "Here, my child, eat some bread
this year at least; I don't know who will eat any next year,
if the wheat goes on like that."
Confronted with such precise details, Maximin eagerly
replied, "Oh yes, Madam, I remember now; just at this
moment I did not remember."
Then the Lady, again speaking French as the beginning of her discourse and when giving
the secrets, said to them:
Well, my children, you will make this known to all my people.
These were her last words.
Meanwhile, the two witnesses were still standing motionless at the spot where the
conversation had taken place, when suddenly they realized that the heavenly Visitor was
already some steps away from them.
In their eagerness to join her again, they ran across the brook and were with her in a
moment. Thus, in the company of Maximin and Melanie, the Lady moved along, gliding over
the tips of the grass without touching it, until she reached the top of the hillock where the
children, after their sleep, had gone to look after their cows. Melanie proceeded her by a few
steps, and Maximin was at her right.
On reaching the summit, the Lady paused for a few seconds, then slowly rose up to a height
of a meter and a half. She remained suspended in the air for a moment, raised her eyes to
Heaven, then glanced in the direction of the southeast.
At that moment, Melanie, who had been standing at the left of the Lady, came in front in
order to see her better. Only then did she notice that the celestial Visitor had ceased
weeping, although her features remained very sad.
The radiant vision now began to disappear.
"We saw her head no more, then the rest of the body no more; she seemed to melt away.
There remained a great light," Maximin related, "as well as the roses at her feet which I tried
to catch with my hands, but there was nothing more."
"We looked for a long time," Melanie added, "to see if we could not have another glimpse of
her, but the Beautiful Lady had disappeared forever."
The little shepherdess then remarked to her companion, "Perhaps it was a great Saint."
"If we had known it was a great Saint," said Maximin, "we would have asked her to take us
with her."
| LaSalette Apparition of Our Lady of LaSalette |
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