The Miracle Part 19

"Insane?" said Liz with surprise.

"Oh, yes. So in due course three well-known doctors in Lourdes were asked to examine Bernadette. They did so. They found her nervous and, of course, asthmatic, but anything but insane, in fact quite normal mentally. The doctors wrote off her visions as a not-uncommon childish hallucination. Speaking of Bernadette's first vision, the doctors reported, 'A reflection of light, no doubt, caught her attention at the side of the grotto; her imagination, under the influence of a mental predisposition, gave it a form which impresses children, that of the statues of the Virgin that are seen on altars.' The three doctors concluded that once the crowds ceased giving her attention and following her, Bernadette would forget the illusion and settle down into her normal way of life and routine." Father Ruland smiled. "Which tells us something about how wrong doctors can be, or could be in those days. But the most important resistance to Bernadette's story came from the leading priest in Lourdes-"

"Father Peyramale," interjected Liz, to let Ruland know that she had done some homework and was not entirely uninformed.

"Yes, Peyramale," said Father Ruland. "From the first, he was the strongest doubter. He simply would not take Bernadette's visions seriously. He was a powerfully built man, mid-fifties, impatient, short-tempered although decent and kindly undemeath. It was after the thirteenth time that Bernadette had seen the apparition that she came before Father Peyramale, accompanied by two aunts. She had a message from the lady in the grotto. The lady's message was, 'Go and tell the priests that people are to come here in procession and build a chapel here.' Father Peyramale was not charmed. He addressed Bernadette sarcastically. 'You're the one who goes to the grotto? And you say you see the Holy Virgin?' Bernadette would not buckle under. 'I did not say that it is the Holy Virgin.' Peyramale demanded, "Then who is the lady?' Bernadette replied, 'I don't know.' Peyramale lost his temper. 'So, you don't know! Liar! Yet those you get to run after you and the newspapers say that you claim to see the Holy Virgin. Well, then, what do you see?' Bernadette answered, 'Something that resembles a lady." Peyramale roared, 'Something! So, then! A lady! A procession!' He glared at her aunts, whom he had thrown out of a church society for becoming pregnant while unmarried, and spoke savagely to them. 'It is unfortunate to have a family like this, which creates disorder in the town. Keep her in check and don't let her budge again. Get out of here!"

"What disorder was Bernadette responsible for?" Liz wanted to know.

"The crowds at the grotto were growing. At first a few had watched Bernadette's trances, then 150, then 400, and soon 1,500 people gathered to witness her visions, and finally as many as 10,000."

"Did she ever see Father Peyramale again?"

"Frequently," said Ruland. "In fact, the very evening after he had thrown her out, she retumed to see him once more. He had cahned down somewhat, and he asked Bernadette about the lady once more. 'You still don't know what her name is?' Bernadette replied, 'No, Reverend Father.' Peyramale advised Bernadette, 'Well, then, you must ask her.' After the fourteenth apparition, Bernadette retumed to the rectory and said to Peyramale, 'Reverend Father, the lady still wants the chapel.' Peyramale said, 'Did you ask her for her name?' Bernadette said, 'Yes, but she only smiled.' Probably, Peyramale smiled, too. 'She is having a lot of fun with you! ... If she wants the chapel, let her tell you her name.' When Bernadette saw the lady for the sixteenth time, she boldly asked the lady, 'Madame, will you be so kind as to tell me who you are?' According to Bernadette, the lady bowed, smiled, clasped her hands at her breast and replied, 'I am the Immaculate Conception." Bernadette raced to the rectory and repeated what she had heard. Peyramale was thunderstmck. 'A woman cannot have that name,' he gasped. 'You are mistaken! Do you know what that means?' Bernadette had no idea what it meant. Actually, the dogma of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary-that Christ's purity at birth extended to his mother Mary at birth -- was a highly sophisticated dogma announced by the Pope only four years earlier to help create a religious revival. That anyone as unschooled and ignorant as Bernadette could know about it seemed impossible. Father Peyramale was stumied. In my opinion, from that moment on, Peyramale was no longer a doubter. He believed everything that Bernadette had reported to him and would continue to tell him. From that moment on, he was on her side, one of her main backers."

"And that's what did it," said Liz.

"Not quite, but Peyramale's conversion was indeed a turning point," said Father Ruland. "But there were other factors, too, that dissipated doubt, and weighed the scales in favor of Bernadette's honesty. There was the cynical Dr. Dozous, who went to the grotto to watch her, saw her hold a burning candle in her hands while the flame crept down to her fingers. Afterward, when the doctor examined her hands, they showed no b.u.ms. There was the highly respected tax inspector, Jean-Baptiste Estrade, who mocked Bernadette until he saw her at the grotto, and who thought her performance was greater than any by the French actress Rachel, and that convinced him she was honest. Estrade came away saying, 'That child has a supematural being in front of her.' Then the whole succession of early miracles."

"What miracles?" Liz wondered.

"The son of a tobacco seller who had sight in only one eye. He drank some of the water from the spring Bernadette had discovered and was able to see with both eyes. There was Catherine Latapie, who had fallen from a tree and partially paralyzed her right hand. At the grotto, after she dipped the hand in the stream, her paralysis disappeared. There was Eugenie Troy, whose vision was impaired and whose eyes were bandaged. She embraced Bernadette and was cured. Perhaps the most publicized cure was that of Napoleon Ill's two-year-old son, heir to the French throne, who had suffered a serious sunstroke in Biarritz. There was fear that the sunstroke might lead to meningitis. His govem-ess traveled to Lourdes, spoke to Bernadette, filled a bottle with the spring water, and sprinkled it on the suffering prince. With that, his sunstroke vanished. And with that the Emperor ordered Lourdes and the grotto opened freely to the pubUc. From then on, it became the most attended religious shrine in the Westem world."

"Sounds to me like the cures really did it," said Liz.

Father Ruland hiked his shoulders, and said casually, "Make what you want of the cures, but Bernadette herself never thought too much of them. She was a very sick little girl, as you know, suffering ft-om severe asthma and undemourishment. When she was extremely ill, she did not go to the grotto. She had no faith in its curative powers. Instead, she traveled to the village of Cauterets, thirty kilometers from here. It was a spa and she went there for the thermal baths. But they did not cure her."

"Still, Bernadette went there."

"Because the spa was highly spoken of in her day."

"I might look in on it, if I have time."

"It's not very interesting, but if you go there have a look at the church, Notre-Dame de Cauterets, and especially the modern chapel inside the church, the Chapelle Sainte Bernadette. Request the local priest to show you around-I forget his name-Father Cayoux, I think, I'm not sure. But, I repeat, there's not much else to see." He took out his box of cigarillos, and sought a fresh one. "Anyway, there it is, the whole series of events that made Lourdes what it is, the succession of events that happened and, of course, the cures for so many except Bernadette."

Liz had been jotting something. She put her pencil and notebook away, slowly, allowing a few seconds of silence to elapse, and then she inquired innocently, "Wasn't there something more that made the grotto notable?"

"Something more?"

"I read that politics played a major role in its fame."

"Poltics-" repeated Father Ruland, knitting his brow. "Ah, you mean the showdown for control between Peyramale and Father Sempe. Is that what you mean?"

"I think so. What happened?"

"Well, to put it in a nutsh.e.l.l, after the area's bishop, Laurence by name, had appointed a commission of inquiry, and the commission had declared that Bernadette's visions had been authentic, the bishop felt that Father Peyramale was too local and provincial to be the promoter of Lourdes. The bishop appointed four members of the nearby Garaison order, led by Father Sempe, to take over Lourdes and the shrine. Whereas Peyramale's plans were limited to building a basilica above the grotto. Father Sempe envisioned Lourdes as the world's center for pilgrimages. It was he and his order who obliterated Peyramale in their rush for bigness. They created, at the edge of Lourdes, the Domain of Our Lady. There they funded the vast esplanades, staged real processions, completed the basilicas. They fought Peyramale to the ground, eventually obliterated his reputation, and in effect made the shrine what it has become today. Is that what you mean by politics?"

Liz Finch could not fault Ruland for lack of frankness. He apparently had covered everything for her, yet had not confessed to any real chicanery and hype. A little, but not much. A bone of contention to nibble at, but nothing to take a real bite out of. Smart man, clever man.

"I suppose -- yes, I suppose that is what I meant by politics."

"Well, there you have it all." Ruland pushed himself to his feet. "Now I must be on my way, but if there is ever anything else you wish to inquire about, feel free to call upon me."

Five minutes later, when Liz stood in the morning sunlight before the Palais des Congr, she realized that she had scribbled only three useful lines in her notebook, and those at the very end of the session. She read what she had scribbled: "Bernadette did not believe in the cures at the grotto, and for her own cure she went to the village of Cauterets. Be sure to go to Cauterets and check that out, and ask for Father Cayoux."

She stuffed the notebook into her purse. You're d.a.m.n right she was going to Cauterets, in fact this very afternoon.

Following the address on the shp given to her by Yvonne, the hotel receptionist, Amanda Spenser at last came upon the Marian Car Rental, a side-street front office with a small automobile lot behind it.

Going inside, Amanda found one customer ahead of her, a weird-looking woman with orangish hair, studying a map spread on the counter. The clerk, a Frenchman too young to grow a fiill mustache, was drawing a red line on the map to give his customer directions to somewhere.

The young clerk straightened up. "There you are. Miss Finch. Just be certain you get on highway N21 going south. After that you'll have no trouble. It is not much of a drive, merely thirty kilometers."

'Thank you," said the customer, accepting car keys from the clerk. "Let me go over the route once more. No, you needn't do it with me. You can attend to the other lady."

The clerk moved sideways, and greeted Amanda questioningly, as she stepped closer to the counter.

"Can I help you, madame?" the clerk inquired.

"Yes, you can," said Amanda, setting the slip in front of him. "The receptionist at my hotel suggested I come here. She thought you might have a car available for rental this afternoon."

The clerk took on a mournful expression. "I am sorry, madame, so sorry. Our last available vehicle was just taken minutes ago."

"Danunit," muttered Amanda.

This was frustrating. She had spent much of the morning bored to tears at the grotto, while Ken had silently given himself over to prayer before the stupid hole in the hill. After lunch she had decided she couldn't do a repeat visit, and had sent Ken off to the domain alone. She had determined to use the afternoon better by resuming her pursuit of Bernadette. She had to prove, the sooner the better, that the peasant girl from Lourdes was more fit to be a patient of a clinical psychologist than to be a saint whose visions could save people. Then, remembering the bit of historical gossip that the taxi driver from Eugenie-les-Bains had given her, Amanda had made up her mind to spend the afternoon driving to the village where Bernadette had actually gone for her cure. And now, no car.

"Dammit," she repeated aloud, "and all I wanted to do was to go to some little town near here called Cauterets. Sure you couldn't find a car somewhere for a few hours if I gave you something extra?"

"Madame, in a week like this one, no cars no matter for how much money."

Crestfallen, about to leave, Amanda heard the rustle of another person beside her. It was Miss Orange Hair.

The other one was asking her something. "Did I hear you say you wanted to go to Cauterets?"

"That's right."

"Fm Liz Finch, the lady who hired the last car, the one you wanted. And I'm about to drive to Cauterets." She hesitated. "Are you, by any chance, a member of the press?"

Amanda dismissed the notion with a short laugh. "Press? Me? Anything but. I'm Amanda Clayton, here from Chicago. I'm visiting Lourdes with my husband, who's hoping for a cure. I wanted to do some-some sightseeing in my time off, and I heard that Cauterets is worth a short visit."

"Well, in that case," said Liz Finch, "be my guest. I've got the BMW, and we're both headed for the same spot, so come along, if you want to. I could stand some company on the road."

Amanda was delighted. "Do you mean it? That's very kind of you. I'll be glad to share your expenses."

"You heard me say be my guest. I have no expenses. I'm here on an expense account." She folded her map. "Come on, let's get the show on the road."

They settled into the slick and clean BMW sedan. The women strapped themselves into their seats, and Liz nimbly took the car through the traffic. About a half mile from the main square, they drove past the Palais des Congres and Les Halles on the Avenue du Marechal Foch, and then swung left and merged into the highway labeled N21 and headed south.

Liz, who had been concentrating on her directions, now relaxed. "Here we go," she said. "Thirty kilometers to Cauterets. That's eighteen miles or so. Shouldn't take long, except the clerk back there said the last ten kilometers climbs up a canyon and might slow us down." She glanced at Amanda. "Why'd you pick Cauterets as a place to visit? I'm told it's not much."

"Well-" Amanda hesitated briefly. "If you want the truth-but first I'd better find out something. Are you a Catholic?"

"I'm an out-and-out atheist. Why?"

Amanda was relieved. "I wanted to tell you the reason I'm going to Cauterets, and it would have been difficult to tell a believer. I'm not a Catholic, either, just a run-of-the-mill convert and by profession a clinical psychologist who doesn't believe in miracles. Or in supernatural visions."

Liz grinned. "I think we're going to have a good trip."

"But my husband, Ken Clayton -- well, he's really not my husband yet, he's my fiance-well, he's a fallen-off" Catholic who suddenly got religion again. Not that I fully blame him for reaching for something. You see -- let me explain -- we were in love, were soon to be married, when it was discovered that Ken had a malignant tumor on the upper thigh."

"Sorry about that," said Liz. "That's dreadful."

"He was supposed to undergo surgery. But surgery in that area is iffy stuff". Nevertheless, it was his only hope. Then, in the Chicago papers, he read the story about Bernadette's secret-that the Virgin Mary is returning to Lourdes this week."

"It was probably my story he read," said Liz.

Amanda was surprised. "You're a reporter?"

"With the Paris Bureau of Amalgamated Press International of New York. I filed The Reappearance Time story that ran in most U.S. papers. Your Ken probably read my story."

"Probably," agreed Amanda.

"Anyway, go on," urged Liz. "What happened to Ken after he read my piece?"

"He got religion, put off the important surgery, and hightailed it here to Lourdes to see if the Virgin Mary could cure him."

"And you came along?"

'To try to bring him to his senses. The longer he puts off" surgery, the less chance for survival he has. I'm trying to convince him he's wasting his time here. I don't think the Virgin Mary is coming back, because I don't think she was here in the first place."

Liz shot her companion a look of delight. "Hey, Amanda, you're a girl after my own heart."

"That's why I wanted to go to Cauterets. I want to prove to Ken that Bernadette herself did not believe the grotto could cure. I heard a rumor to that effect, that when Bernadette was ill, she didn't pray at the grotto. Instead, she went to Cauterets to take thennal baths. If I can verify that's true-"

"It is true, I a.s.sure you," intemipted Liz.

Amanda sat up. "You know it's true? For sure?"

"I can guarantee it's a fact, as given to me by the best Bernadette authority in Lourdes. That's Father Ruland, a bigwig priest there, close to the bishop of Tarbes and Lourdes, and a sort of an expert on our grotto girl." She laughed. "Now I can tell you why / am going to Cauterets. You won't believe it, but it's true. I'm going for the same reason you're going. To prove Bernadette was a phony."

"Well, I don't know if she was a deliberate phony. She may have believed she saw all those apparitions. She may have been hallucinating."

"Whatever, what difference?" Liz sang out. She pointed from the open driver's window. "It's a beautiful day out there, and getting more beautiful. Look at that scenery."

They had been driving through a wide river valley, the ripe green hillsides dotted with chalets. A bit of Switzerland in France, Amanda thought, especially with those snow-capped mountain peaks, like irregular sentinels rising in the distance. She had noticed that they had pa.s.sed through a village named Argeles-Gazost, and now they were entering another village called Pierrefitte-Nestalas.

Liz was speaking again, as she maneuvered the BMW through the town. "I interviewed Father Ruland in Lourdes this morning, and he's the one who told me that Bernadette did not believe her grotto could cure, or at least she had no interest in its curative powers. When she felt ill, she traveled to the spa in Cauterets to take the thermal baths and hoped to be healed. So it is probably a true story, coming as it did from Ruland. But still, when you're writing an expose you want to be superpositive. I made a telephone call to Cauterets and arranged to interview Father Cayoux, the parish priest there." She paused. "Yes, I'm trying to do what you also want to do. Expose this Bernadette for what I suspect she was. A sicky or a liar, one or the other. People have wanted to believe her for so long that n.o.body's really looked carefully at the facts. Everybody takes her story-well, on faith. I want to do a big number out of here, a big blast, and if ever, this is the week to do it. But when you go worldwide like that, you'd better have the goods. And I hope to find it, some of it or all of it, in Cauterets." She gave Amanda another grin. "We have the same purpose. Only different motives. So it's going to be a fun day. Can't wait to get there. Oops, we must be in the home stretch, because we're climbing."

A sharp turn out of the village had brought them up a steep road, a winding mountain road, along a precipitous cliff, and past a few miniature waterfalls. Liz was driving at a slower speed. They crossed a high bridge over a gorge through which a river-the map told them it was the Gave de Cauterets-rushed. The valley before them was widening now and they could make out the village of Cauterets, resembling a French resort town, nestled beyond.

Soon they were in the town, and pa.s.sing two thermal-bath buildings identified on their more detailed map as Thermes de Car and Neothermes.

"There they are," said Liz, "the places Bernadette considered more useful for her health than the grotto."

Next, they found themselves in the Place Georges Clemenceau, the main square. Over the rooftops and beyond they sighted the spire of the church, Notre-Dame de Cauterets, their destination.

Liz indicated the spire. "That's where we're headed."

"In the footsteps of Bernadette," Amanda said almost gayly, filled with optimism at finding what she wanted to know.

They reached a narrow one-way street. Rue de la Raillere, that wound up to the church. At the top, they realized that the tiny square in front of the church also served as a parking lot. They emerged from either side of the BMW, both stretching as they studied the church. The church was encircled by a wrought-iron fence built into dirty-white stone blocks.

Liz was reading her watch. "On time," she said, "actually five or ten minutes early for my appointment with the parish priest. Might as well go in and find him."

They walked in step across the square, which they saw was the Place Jean Moulin, noted the statue of a French soldier and the plaque listing the names of the town's dead in World Wars I and II, and continued on up a steep flight of steps and into the church entrance.

Indoors, there was a handful of wors.h.i.+ppers, and Ma.s.s was coming to an end. They held back, and Amanda surveyed the interior. The altar area ahead, past the pews, was surprisingly bright and modern, circular marble steps leading to a beige-carpeted platform and a cheerful blond-painted square altar.

The Ma.s.s had ended, the paris.h.i.+oners and tourists leaving, when Amanda saw Liz step out to intercept a downy-cheeked youngster, with the look of a choir boy, who had come up the aisle.

"We have an appointment with Father Cayoux," Liz said in French. "Is he around?"

"I believe he is in the presbytery, madame."

"Would you be kind enough to tell him that Miss Finch is here from Lourdes to see him?"

"Gladly, madame."

As the boy hurried off, Liz, followed by Amanda, began to inspect the decorations along the inner walls of the church. Beside a doorway near the altar area, Liz halted to examine a curious old Vierge-a four-teen-inch-high statue of the Virgin Mary-blue and peeling, set under a gla.s.s bell on a wooden ledge.

Amanda pointed to the plaque beneath it. "Look at that."

Bending to the plaque, Amanda translated aloud in English. "In the year of our Lord 1858, between the seventeenth and eighteenth apparition, the little Lourdaise, the humble prophet of Ma.s.sabielle, Bernadette Soubirous, came to Cauterets for her health, said her rosary before the statue of this Vierge."

"Well, that confirms it all right, what Father Ruland told me," said Liz with pleasure.

The downy-cheeked boy had reappeared. "Father Cayoux is in the presbytery. He will receive you. I will show the way." But he did not move, instead pointed his finger to the statue of the Virgin Mary on the ledge. "You are interested in Saint Bernadette's visit?"

"Very much so," said Amanda.

"Here, I will let you see the room dedicated to her."

The boy hurried up some carpeted steps through a doorway, and Amanda and Liz followed him.

"Chapelle Sainte Bernadette," the boy explained.

It was a narrow, starkly modern room, with patterned carpeting, maroon-covered armless bench chairs, a few small sculptured holy figures on the plain light-brown walls.