The Miracle Part 7

Mich.e.l.le nodded and was back on the phone. "Gisele? How are you? This is Mich.e.l.le again. . . . Tired, you say? Ah, we are all tired. But listen, this is something special. I have with me a prominent American journalist, a lady from Paris named Liz Finch. She has just arrived in Lourdes. She does not wish to take our routine guided press tours. She would much prefer to have her own escort to show her around the city, to visit the historic sites, the domain, the grotto. It could be worth your while." A pause. "One hundred fifty francs an hour." A pause. "Thank you, Gisele, I'll tell her."

Mich.e.l.le hung up and swiveled to face Liz. "You are in luck. Miss Finch. Gisele askod that you wait for her right here. She'll pick you up in fifteen minutes."

"Great."

"Pleased to be of help. While waiting, you might want to acquaint yourself with our latest accommodation, a press tent outside, especially put up to handle the influx of journalists starting tomorrow. There are counters and desks with electric typewriters, a battery of telephones for long-distance calls, supplies, refreshments. You can use anything you wish, at any time, when there is free s.p.a.ce."

"Thanks. I'll have a peek at it tomorrow. I want to concentrate on one thing at a time. I want to learn all about Bernadette and Lourdes before I do anything else. I hope this friend of yours, this guide-"

"Mademoiselle Gisele Dupree."

"Yes, I hope she can help me."

The press officer smiled rea.s.suringly. "I promise you, Miss Finch, she'll tell you more than you'll ever need to know."

They were on the first lap of their walking tour, in the footsteps of Bernadette, on the way to see the cachot, or cell-the Gaol as Gisele called it-where the Soubirous family had dwelt in poverty when Bernadette was fourteen and had seen the first apparition of the Virgin Mary at the grotto.

They were striding in step, and Liz kept her gaze fixed on the young tour guide, pretending to be attentively listening to her, but actu- ally studying her. When they had been introduced in the press office twenty minutes ago, Liz had taken an instant dislike to her guide because at first impression the girl had reminded her of Marguerite La-marche, her API rival. Gisele Dupree was beautiful and s.e.xy in that special French way, possessing the overall beauty and sensuality that Marguerite had always flaunted. The guide had made Liz imjnediately feel ugly and uncomfortable, and once more aware of her own kinky carroty hair, beak of a nose, thin lips, undershot jaw, sagging b.r.e.a.s.t.s, flaring hips, bowlegs. In the world of femininity, Gisele was one more of the enemy.

But now, since meeting, walking with her, studying her more closely, Liz could see that except for her overall perfection Gisele was not like Marguerite at all. Marguerite was willowy and aloof Gisele, striding beside her, was completely different. She was not your typical high-fas.h.i.+on French model. She was your typical French gamine. Gisele was small, maybe five foot three, with pale corn-silk hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her face was frank, open, serious. A pair of white-rimmed heart-shaped sungla.s.ses sat low on her pet.i.te nose. Above were large green-gray eyes, and below, moist full lips, especially the lower lip. Beneath her sheer white blouse, her skintone bra hardly hid her straight firm b.r.e.a.s.t.s and prominent nipples. In her pleated white skirt, she resembled a healthy, tanned, outdoor child-woman. Liz guessed her to be about twenty-five years old.

Marching along, Gisele recited her piece with gravity, trying to make it interesting, with certain emphasis here, certain pauses there, even though she was only repeating what she declaimed during her tours every day. For a French girl, her colloquial English, Americanese really, was right off" the streets of Manhattan. When she was greeted by pa.s.sersby who knew her, she replied not only in French, but in acceptable Spanish and German upon occasion. A remarkable young one to be trapped in a remote provincial town like Lourdes. Liz was beginning to warm up to her companion. Liz decided to be more attentive and tuned in.

"So, as you can gather," Gisele was saying, "Bernadette's father, Fran9ois Soubirous, was always a loser. He was a strong, silent, maybe hard-drinking man, and inept at business. At thirty-five, he had married a nice gentle woman of seventeen named Louise, and a year later the couple had their first child, and this was Bernadette. They were living at the Boly mill, where Franois ground his neighbors' grain, but he even-tually lost the mill. He was too extravagant with money, and had a poor head for business. Then he worked as a day laborer, later was loaned some money which he invested in another mill, and within a year he had lost that mill, too. Of the eight children that followed Bernadette, only four survived infancy-Toinette, Jean-Marie, Justin, Bernard-Pierre-and the family sank deeper into poverty, until a relative installed them in an abandoned prison cell, the Gaol, which an official at the time described as 'a foul, somber hovel' It was four meters forty by four meters, damp, malodorous, smelling of manure. It was awful. You shall see for yourself in a few minutes."

"That's where Bernadette lived?" Liz inquired. "How did she get along?"

"Not too well, I'm afraid," said Gisele. "She was a tiny, rather attractive, girl, only four foot six, gay and basically bright, but she was uneducated, unable to read, spoke no French, only the local Bigourdan dialect, and she was frail, suffering from asthma and undernourishment. To help her family, she worked as a waitress in her aunt's bar. She also often went to the nearby river, the Gave de Pau, to pick up bones, driftwood, pieces of sc.r.a.p iron to sell to dealers for a few sous."

They had turned into a narrow street, many of its old buildings with flaking plaster and in general disrepair, when Gisele said, "Here we are. The Rue des Pet.i.ts-Fosses, and that's the Gaol straight ahead on the left. Number fifteen. Let's go in."

Pa.s.sing through the entrance into the building, Liz heard Gisele explain that the room that had sheltered six members of the Soubirous family was at the back, at the end of a long hall, from which a htany of subdued voices could be heard. They walked along the hall to a low doorway in the rear. Inside, Liz saw a group of perhaps a dozen English pilgrims, gathered in a semi-circle, heads bowed as they chanted in unison, "Hail Mary, ftill of Grace, the Lord is with Thee ..."

Moments later, their devotions completed, the group filed out, and Gisele motioned for Liz to enter. Except for two crudely made wooden benches, and a few logs stacked on the fireplace hearth, the room was devoid of ftimis.h.i.+ngs. A large crucifix, brownish wood, hung above the mantel.

Liz shook her head. "Six people?" she asked. "In this hole?"

"Yes," agreed Gisele. "But remember, it was from here that Bernadette went on February 11 in 1858, to gather the firewood that would- well, in a sense-light Lourdes up for the whole world." Gisele gestured toward the room. "Well, what do you think of it?"

Liz was studying the plaster that had fallen away from the walls exposing the dirty embedded rocks.

"What I think," said Liz, "is that the city fathers and the Church have done a lousy job of preserving the room in which the girl lived, the girl who would make the town so famous and prosperous. I don't understand the neglect."

Gisele apparently had never thought of this, had seen the historic site too often to realize how poorly it had been kept up. She looked around it with fresh eyes. "Maybe you're right, Miss Finch," she murmured.

"Okay, let's go on from here," said Liz.

Emerging into the street once more, Gisele announced professionally, "Now we will go to the Lacade mill, then the Boly mill where Bernadette was born, after that the Hospice of the Sisters of Christian Instruction and Charity of Nevers where Bernadette finally received some education-"

Liz held up her hand. "No," she said. "No, we're not bothering with all that nit-picking. I'm a joumahst, and there's no story in any of that. I want to go straight to the main dish."

"The main dish?"

"The grotto. I want a taste of the grotto of Ma.s.sabielle."

Momentarily off-balance by this change in her routine, Gisele recovered quickly. "All right. Off we go. But we might just as well walk past the Boly mill on our way. It's just a few meters from here. Number Two on the Rue Bernadette Soubirous -- and from there we can walk downhill and head for the grotto."

"Is it far?"

"Not far at all. You will see."

They resumed their walk and within a few minutes were standing in front of the stone dwelling that bore one-foot-high block letters that read: MAISON OU EST NEE STE BERNADETTE LE MOULIN DE BOLY.

"So what's this?" Liz wanted to know, gazing up at the three-story house in the comer of an alley. "Is this where her parents lived?"

"Yes, when Bernadette was born."

"Let's give it a quickie," said Liz, as she went inside followed by Gisele.

From the entry hall, Liz saw an open doorway and a wooden staircase. Through the doorway, Liz looked into a souvenir shop. Gisele hastily explained, "What is now a shop used to be, in Bernadette's time, a kitchen and downstairs bedroom. Let me take you upstairs to see Bernadette's own bed." As they began to ascend the staircase, Gisele added, "These are the original stairs." They feel like it, Liz thought, uneven and creaky.

The pair arrived in a bedroom. It was not large, but it was not cramped, either. "Not too bad," said Liz.

"Not too good," said Gisele.

"But it's not exactly one of your hovel hovels," said Liz. "I've seen worse family rooms in parts of Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C., and in Paris."

"Do not be fooled. This was remodeled and cleaned for tourists."

Liz examined the furnis.h.i.+ngs of the room. Bernadette's own double bed, covered with a blue checkered bedspread, was enclosed in a gla.s.s showcase, which was cracked. On the wall, amid a mess of graffiti, were hung three framed timewom photographs of Bernadette, her mother, her father. At the far end, an aged grandfather clock and a bureau upon which stood several cheap statuettes of the Virgin Mary were protected from tourists by ordinary wire mes.h.i.+ng.

Liz sniffed. "What is it? A room, another shabby room, that's all. No story. I want to get to the story."

Descending into the street, they were on the Boulevard de la Grrotte once more. They began walking again, then halted. "There," Gisele said, pointing toward a gray, wrought-iron gate on the far side of the bridge across the river, "that's the beginning of the Domaine de la Grotte, also called the Domain of the Sanctuaries. Forty-seven acres. To give you a better picture, we really should approach the grotto from this far end."

Peering off, Liz saw a vast expanse that might be regarded as a football field, except that it was somewhat oval. She shrugged amiably. "Whatever you say."

They came off the bridge, advanced toward the gate, and entered through it onto what Liz realized resembled a vast parade ground.

"We've just come through the Saint-Michel gate into the actual domain area," explained Gisele, "and this esplanade leads all the way up to the three churches at the far end-the tallest on top with the two bell-turrets and the octagonal spire is the Basilica of the Immaculate Conception or the Upper Basilica, below it the Crypt, and at the bottom the Basihca of the Rosary. The Crypt with its chapel was built first, followed by the Upper Basilica, but when the clergy realized that these couldn't hold the daily influx of pilgrims, the planners added the Basilica of the Rosary at ground level, with its fifteen chapels, to seat two thousand more people. The holy grotto is off on the right side of the Upper Basilica. It cannot be seen from here."

Liz Finch was hobbling to a metal bench. "I've got to get off my feet a minute." She sat down with a sigh of relief and kicked off her flat-soled brown shoes. She waved her hand at her surroundings. "What in the h.e.l.l is all this? You called it the domain. What does that mean?"

Gisele came over briskly to join her. "Well, it-but first, before you can understand what this means, you've got to understand what the grotto means. Because the grotto made this possible." She eyed Liz squarely. "Do you know why the grotto is so important?"

"Well, sure, that's where Bernadette claimed that she saw the Virgin Mary a number of times, and the Virgin Mary told her a secret. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, but to understand fully, Miss Finch, you'd better know exactly what happened here if you intend to write about it. The Virgin Mary appeared before Bernadette eighteen times between February 11 and July 16 of 1858."

"That's right," said Liz. "I remember their mentioning that at the press conference in Paris, and later I researched those apparitions."

"Well, you should know as much as possible about the visitations, because that's what this is all about."

Liz sighed again, suffering in the heat. "If you insist. But don't describe all eighteen. I couldn't endure that in this weather."

"Oh, no, no, you don't need every detail. Just allow me to tell you of the first apparition completely. After that, a few highlights of the other visits. Surely, that will be enough."

Liz found a handkerchief and mopped her brow. "The first one," she said. "Then a few highlights. Okay, I'm listening."

At once, comfortably, Gisele Dupree sat down and fell into her tour-guide patter. "At daybreak, a Thursday morning, February 11, 1858, Bernadette, her younger sister, Toinette, and one of her sister's schoolfriends, Jeanne, decided to go to the banks of the Gave de Pau, the river at the edge of town, and gather driftwood and sc.r.a.ps of bone to help Bernadette's family. Because the morning was chilly, and Bernadette's health was poor, her mother insisted that she wear her capulet- a sort of hood-and stockings besides her dress and sabots. Remember, Bernadette was fourteen years old at the time, unschooled but intelligent. The three girls went past the Savy mill and along the ca.n.a.l toward the Gave which joined the ca.n.a.l near a large cave, or grotto, known as Ma.s.sabielle. The other two girls quickly waded through the cold water of the ca.n.a.l, and after urging Bernadette to follow them, searched along the bank for bits of driftwood. Bernadette planned to wade across the ca.n.a.l, but held back to take off her shoes and stockings. As she leaned against a boulder to do so, something curious happened, something that would affect the entire world." Gisele paused dramatically. "It was very curious."

"Go on," said Liz, patiently.

"I will relate the occurrence in Bernadette's own words," continued Gisele. "I have memorized them. Here is how Bernadette spoke of it afterward. 'Hardly had I taken off" the first stocking when I heard a noise something like a gust of wind. I turned toward the meadow and saw that the trees were not moving at all. I had half noticed, but without paying any particular attention, that the branches and brambles were waving beside the grotto.

" 'I was putting one foot into the water when I heard the same sound in front of me. Then I was frightened and stood straight up. I lost all power of speech. I looked up and saw a cl.u.s.ter of branches and brambles underneath the highest opening of the grotto tossing and swinging to and fro-although nothing else stirred.

" 'Almost at the same time there came out of the grotto a golden-colored cloud, and soon after a Lady in white, young and beautiful, exceedingly beautiful, no bigger than myself, who greeted me with a slight bow of Her head. At the same time She stretched out Her arms slightly away from Her body, opening Her hands as in a picture or statue of Our Lady-over Her right arm hung a rosary.

" 'I was afraid and drew back. I wanted to call the two girls but did not have the courage to do so.

" 'I rubbed my eyes again and again. I thought I must be mistaken.

" 'Looking up, I saw the Lady smiling at me most graciously and seeming to invite me to come nearer. But I was still afraid. It was not a fear such as I have felt at other times, however, for I would have stayed there forever looking at her, whereas when you are afraid you run away quickly.

" 'Then I thought of saying my prayers. I put my hand in my pocket and took out the rosary I always have with me. I knelt down and tried to make the Sign of the Cross but I could not lift my hand to my forehead: It fell back.

" 'The Lady meantime stepped to one side and turned toward me. This time she was holding the large beads in Her hand. She crossed Herself as though to pray. My hand was trembling. I tried again to make the Sign of the Cross and this time I could-I was not afraid anymore.

" 'I said my rosary. The Lady pa.s.sed the beads through Her fingers but did not move Her lips. While I was saying my rosary I was watching as hard as I could.

" 'She was wearing a white dress right down to Her feet, and only the tips of Her toes were showing. The dress was gathered high at the neck from which there hung a white cord. A white veil covered Her head and came down over Her shoulders and arms almost to the bottom of Her dress.

" 'On each foot I saw a yellow rose. The sash of the dress was blue and hung down below the knees. The chain of the rosary was yellow, the beads white and big, and widely s.p.a.ced.

" The Lady was alive, very young, and surrounded with light.

" 'When I had finished my rosary, the Lady bowed to me smilingly. She retired to the interior of the rock-and suddenly the golden cloud disappeared with Her.' That was Bernadette's first vision. That was the beginning."

Gisele fell silent. Liz remained silent.

At last, Liz spoke. "You mean everybody believed in that hallucination?"

"n.o.body believed it at the start," said Gisele simply. "In fact, Bernadette wanted to keep the story to herself. But her sister repeated it to their mother, and the mother slapped Bernadette for speaking such nonsense. After that, after subsequent visions at the grotto, the parish priest. Father Peyramale, mocked her and the normally good-natured Commissioner of Police Jacomet accused her of being a liar."

"But she kept going back to the grotto and saw the Virgin Mary seventeen more times?"

Gisele nodded seriously. "Eighteen times in all. You wish to hear the highlights?"

"All right. The highlights only."

"Three days later, Bernadette was drawn back to the grotto, fell into a pale ecstatic trance, and saw the Virgin Mary again. Four days after that, Bernadette saw the Virgin a third time, and the Virgin spoke and requested Bernadette to come to the grotto regularly for the next two weeks. She said, 'I do not promise to make you happy in this world, but in the next.'

"Despite much opposition, Bernadette obeyed the Virgin's instructions and continued to pray at the grotto. Impressed by Bernadette's sincerity and demeanor, the townsfolk began to follow her to the grotto and watch her."

"And Bernadette kept seeing the Virgin Mary?"

"Yes. The seventh time was when the Virgin told Bernadette the last of her secrets, that she would make a reappearance at the grotto this year. The thirteenth time the Virgin appeared before Bernadette, she told the girl two things. 'Go and tell the priests to build a chapel here ... I want people to come here in procession.' It was recorded that there were 1,650 persons gathered as spectators at the grotto on that morning."

"Did they see and hear what Bernadette saw and heard?"

"No, of course not," said Gisele. "The Virgin Mary was visible only to Bernadette and could be heard only by Bernadette."

"Umm. Well-"

Ignoring Liz's obvious skepticism, Gisele hurried on with her story. "Bernadette's most important sighting of the Virgin was the sixteenth one. It happened at five in the morning. The Virgin was waiting for her at the grotto and, according to Bernadette, 'She put Her hands together again at the level of Her breast, lifted up Her eyes to Heaven and then told me that She was the Immaculate Conception.' Since presumably Bernadette did not know, at that time, what the Immaculate Conception was, her repeating of what she had heard gave her report greater veracity. In fact, when she reported that to Father Peyramale, the parish priest, up till then a skeptic, he did a turnaround. He became convinced that Bernadette's visions of the Celestial Lady were true wonders. Bernadette saw the Virgin again on April 7, and then there was a long lapse until July 16, when Bernadette had an inner call, hastened to the grotto, and saw the Virgin Mary for the last time."

"You're telling me it was when the Virgin called herself the Immaculate Conception," said Liz, "that everyone tumed into tme believ-ers?"

"There was more that did it," said Gisele. "There was the fact that the seventeenth apparition was attended by a skeptical scientific person, a Dr. Pierre-Romain Dozous, who watched as the flame of the lighted candle Bernadette was holding licked at her fingers, yet afterward she showed no b.u.ms from the flame. And then real miracle cures began. Above all, there was Bernadette's unquenchable belief and sincerity. The police chief tried to trap her, to prove she was reporting the whole event to make money. But she never accepted a single sou. And she could not be tricked into making a contradictory statement. She was simple, straightforward, and wanted no public attention. Actually, she retired from the public eye, became a recluse, and then a nun eight years later. Anyway, five days after her last vision, the bishop of Tarbes and Lourdes formed his commission of inquiry. And less than four years later, he announced, 'The Apparition which calls itself Immaculate Conception, what Bernadette saw and heard, is the Very Holy Vir-gm.

"It didn't stay simple," said Liz. "How did we go from sweet, simple Bernadette to-to this?"

The guide's face was creased in thought.

"Look, it would take too long to explain it all, but let me tell you the main things that happened after Bernadette's visions were proclaimed authentic. Father Peyramale, following the Virgin's request, began to build a church above the shrine. But the diocesan authorities decided that the happening was too momentous to be left to a local priest, who was small-time, had no good head for finance. So they turned the area over to a nearby group of Catholic fathers, the Garaison fathers, later called the Fathers of the Immaculate Conception, known for their aggressiveness and promotional skills. These priests, under Father Pierre-Remy Sempe, the bishop's former secretary, went to work. For processions, they purchased land and built this esplanade, a kind of super park, as part of the Domain of Our Lady. Then they finished the Upper Basihca. Then they raised money to build the Rosary Basihca. Finally, two years after the first large organized pilgrimage of eight thousand people came here to the grotto, the railway company- which had been lobbied-diverted its trains to pa.s.s through Lourdes. Within seven years, the first foreign pilgrimages arrived from Canada and Belgium. After that, Lourdes belonged to the entire world, and today over five million pilgrims and tourists come here annually."

Gisele Dupree stood up. "Now I think you are ready to see the grotto."

Liz mopped her brow once more and rose to her feet. "Okay, the grotto."

As they strode along the seemingly endless grounds of the domain, Gisele pointed off to a series of offices under a sloping walk that led to the Upper Basihca. "There you see The Hospitality, which is in charge of the comfort of visitors, mainly pilgrims. Further down is the center for the brancardiers, the volunteers who come from everywhere to push the three thousand bath chairs, the several thousand wheelchairs, and to carry the most serious invalids in one hundred fifty stretcher trolleys. The Medical Bureau, where miracle cures are reported and studied by doctors of every religious faith or no faith at all, is also under that rising walkway on our right. Nearby is a hospital-there is a second one on the far side of the river." Gisele saw Liz take out her pack of cigarettes, and admonished her firmly. "Sorry, Miss Finch, smoking is not permitted in the domain."

"Wouldn't you know," said Liz in an undertone.

"Now we are at the Upper Basihca, quite a sight," said Gisele. "We can climb up either of those twin walkways and staircases to the entrance and go inside."

"Thanks, but no thanks," Liz said grumpily.

"Are you sure? The interior is so immense and overwhelming-the nave, the silver-gilt hearts around the nave bearing some of the words that the Virgin spoke to Bernadette, like, 'Penitence . . . You must pray for the conversion of sinners! ... Go and drink at the fountain and wash in it! ... I am the Immaculate Conception!' You'll appreciate the nineteen stained-gla.s.s windows."

Liz shook her perspiring face and head vigorously. "Gisele, no more guide-book stuif. Just show me the grotto."

Grisele emitted an unhappy sigh. "The grotto. Very well. It is around the comer of the Basihca, through that archway."

On aching feet, Liz trailed after her guide to the far side of the obscenely mammoth churches. They went past a rack of candles for sale, and came upon a sizable group of people standing, sitting on benches, kneeling in prayer. Some were in wheelchairs. They were all focused on one object to the left.

Liz turned slightly, and there it was. The grotto. The grotto of Ma.s.sabielle. A plain old dark-gray cave burrowed into the hillside by nature, with shrubbery and trees high above it. Liz had not known what to expect, but she was disappointed. For a wonder of the world, it was not much.