Eventually (and strangely), her cough and all her consumptive symptoms and
fever did leave. Bernardina’s
countenance became bright, her conversation sparkled, she laughed heartily, and
she did not seem to become tired, but she then entered into a nine-day period
of crisis. During that time, everything she said and did was spiritual, sometimes
even mysterious, and she only reluctantly ate food at the sisters’ urging,
after nearly fasting for three days. While resisting food she’d reply that
nourishing the body was beneath her, and that she wanted to quit this earth and
earthly things. She wanted to divest of all her possessions, even her clothes,
so that she could ascend with Christ into heaven. Once she called herself
Nabuchodonosor (a common earlier transliteration today often rendered as
Nebuchadnezzar), and said that like him she would eat grass as an ox and dwell
with cattle for seven years. Another time she called herself Abraham, and then
again Isaac, with the latter character seeming to please her most because he
was ready to be sacrificed. She recited long and complicated passages of
scripture with great ease, as though she had always been perfectly acquainted
with every part of them. She sometimes composed songs based on spiritual texts
with advice for those present, often alluding to certain passages of the holy
writings in a way that astonished everyone. Our dear Father Clorivière asked
her where and how she had learned all these things. She laughed and said she
had read them in the Holy Court, a
large book owned by the community which she had been free to peruse, although
she lamented that she often read too much of it. She sometimes related past
events, and even those from the lives of others. She foretold a circumstance
that came to pass within two months. During this period she remained fully
sensible of everything she said and did, remembering every detail, and she
sometimes wondered aloud why she had such a strange affectation.
After her nine-day crisis passed, Bernardina’s cough
returned even worse than before, and as it turned out she had only three more
months to live. Although she had always feared death, all dread left her a few
weeks before she died. She said that if she only had to consider her actions by
themselves and have confidence in them alone then she would have great cause to
tremble at her last moments. However, when she reflected on the merits of
Christ, she felt encouraged to meet her last hour with joy, and “thus did she
animate and encourage herself to follow the will and good pleasure of her God
in this dangerous passage from time to eternity.” This dear sister begged
pardon of the whole community in general, and of each one in particular whom
she believed she had offended in the least, with sentiments of the most
profound humility and her own deficiencies. She also proved her resignation to
the will of God, for when Fr. Clorivière was injured and confined to his room
during the time when she was to receive the last sacrament, she had to receive
it from Fr. Carey, with whom she was unacquainted, and she didn’t offer the
slightest sign of uneasiness. Happily, however, her passing was delayed by two
days, and Fr. Clorivière was able to come to the infirmary on crutches to
comfort her and pray by her bed when “she finally closed her eyes to this
mortal world.” She preserved her perfect presence of mind to the last; about a
quarter of an hour before her death she said her feet were cold, and Fr.
Clorivière directed that a warm brick be placed by them. The infirmarians
didn’t hear his order, however, and concluded that her cold was that of
impending death, so they asked her again what she wanted, and she said firmly,
“Do what the Father has told you.” Then, after a short agony, she happily slept
in our Lord.
It seems worthy to notice that all these three McNantz
sisters, Bernardina, Isidora, and Mary Leonard, died on great Sundays, this one
being the first Sunday of Lent. Isidora died on Easter Sunday, and amiable
little Mary Leonard went on the first Sunday of Advent. In these three sisters
may we have--as we may justly hope--three advocates in heaven where we all
expect to meet one day, never more to part.
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