The Miracle (31 page)

She determined to encourage him to go on. She broke the silence. "You were saying. Father? This is all so fascinating. You were wondering about Bernadette and her visions."

Father Cayoux's head bobbed up and down. "I was thinking about it, the miracles," he said. His eyes focused on his visitors, and he addressed them directly. "You see, visions and miracles come cheaply to the villages of these Pyrenees valleys, as they do to so many young visionaries in Portugal and in remote parts of Italy."

"Do you mean that others like Bernadette had entertained similar visions?" asked Amanda.

Since Father Cayoux was apparently incapable of laughing, he met the question with a familiar snort. "Others like Bernadette? Countless others like Bernadette before she came along and in the years since. I have heard that between the years 1928 and 1975 there were at least eighty-three persons, in Italy alone, who claimed to have seen the Virgin Mary. You have heard about the incident at La Salette near Grenoble?"

"I think I read about it in passing," said Liz.

"I haven't," Amanda told the priest.

"La Salette was one of your typical rustic villages," began Father Cayoux with relish. "On September 19, 1846, two children of the village, shepherd children, Melanie Calvet, fifteen, and a boy of eleven, Maximin Girand, saw the Virgin Mary and heard prophetic secrets from Her. The boy was manhandled by the police, but refused to reveal the secrets. Both of the youngsters were interrogated for fifteen consecutive hours, but would not reveal the secrets. Instead, four years later, they sent the secrets that the Blessed Virgin had given them to Pope Pius IX, who did not reveal them. The authenticity of the vision seen by the pair was hotly debated. Melanie was abnormal in some ways, ignorant, and even Catholic apologists admitted that she was lazy and careless. Maximin was worse, a known liar, but clever and vulgar. Both were characterized as repulsive young people. Nevertheless, the Ul-tramontanes, the conservative church-over-state Catholics, bought their stories completely. After forcing the children out of sight—the girl was placed in a convent in England, the boy with the Jesuits—the good Fathers promoted the La Salette miracle, put it over, and the pilgrimages began and the community prospered. Sound familiar?"

"Incredible," said Amanda.

"La Salette was before Lourdes. The miracle at Fdtima in Portugal came after. Three shepherd children, Lucia dos Santos, ten, Francisco, nine, and his sister, Jacinta Marto, seven, on May 13, 1917, saw the Virgin Mary in a bush and once a month for six months thereafter. As usual, they heard secrets, and there was skepticism among the clergy and the children were even put on trial. But the children and their visions prevailed and Fdtima became a miracle shrine second only to Lourdes."

'The Fdtima youngsters must have known about Bernadette," said Liz, "as Bernadette probably knew about La Salette."

"Very likely," agreed Father Cayoux. "In Bernadette's case, however, she must have drawn her scenario, if such it was, from Betharram."

"Betharram?" said Amanda blankly.

"It is a town on the Gave de Pau, not far from Lourdes. It is a place where miracles supposedly occurred for many centuries. The Virgin Mary in white materialized there a number of times. The most dramatic apparition took place when a little girl fell into the river, and was certain to drown. The Virgin Mary appeared on the bank, held out a sturdy branch for the sinking girl to grasp, and she was pulled ashore and saved. Betharram had its own wonder worker in Michael Garacoits, who became Father Superior at the local seminary and was a splendid teacher. He also had the abihty to levitate. He died in 1863, and was canonized as a saint in 1947. Anyway, it was from Betharram that Bernadette may have fashioned her own Lourdes scenario."

Amanda was intrigued. "How?" she wanted to know.

"Bernadette was attracted by Betharram and used to visit the church there often. The Betharram church acknowledged that Bernadette was there praying for a number of days, four or five, before she had seen her first apparition. The very rosary Bernadette used at the grotto was the one she had purchased in Betharram. Michael Garacoits was still alive during and after Bernadette's apparitions. She was sent to see him and he believed her story from the start. When someone told him, 'This Lourdes may overshadow your Betharram,' Garacoits was alleged to have replied, 'What does it matter, if Our Lady is honored?' He visited the grotto many times before his death." Father Cayoux paused. "Well, the obvious point is that Bernadette could easily have picked up the Virgin Mary apparition idea at Betharram and imported it to Lourdes."

Liz leaned forward. "We appreciate your forthrightness. Father. Many priests might not be as reahstic and candid. Clearly, you are a man of faith yet one who holds the Bernadette story suspect."

"I'm afraid that is my feeling," said Father Cayoux.

"Bernadette's frequent visits to Betharram certainly give reason for holding Bernadette suspect," said Liz. "I wonder if you have any other evidence that might indict Bernadette?"

Father Cayoux backed off" slightly. "That might indict hef? No, I have no proven evidence against her or her honesty. Just suspicions, just circumstantial evidence that makes her story questionable."

"Any of this you wish to speak about?" pressed Liz.

"There is too much, far too much," said Father Cayoux. "For one thing, Bernadette's parents. Francois and Louise Soubirous are portrayed, in those pretty color booklets they sell you in Lourdes, as impoverished, stmggling, but industrious parents, perhaps too generous and charitable. Nonsense. They were both terrible drunks. I do not mean to visit the sins of the parents on the children, but just to show

you what an unstable background Bernadette had. Nor did she have a decent home or a decent meal in all the years before she saw the apparitions. Her father was not fit to make a living. Bernadette was famished most of the time. The food she ate was mostly commeal porridge, watered-down vegetable soup, commeal and wheat bread sometimes mixed with rye. She often threw up her food. She might have suffered from ergotic poisoning as well."

"Which can make people hallucinate," interjected Amanda.

"It can," said Father Cayoux. "But even without such poisoning, her stomach was empty and her head was light. All the family starved. Bernadette's brother was seen scraping candle wax from the church floor for food. Bernadette, unlearned, constantly hungry, constantly ill with asthma, and without dependable love was certainly a candidate for -- as you suggested, Mrs. Clayton—hallucinations."

"Yet," said Liz, "Bernadette was so exact in what she saw and what she heard. And this made a favorable impression on most believers."

Father Cayoux nodded. "Well, let's examine how our heroine might have come to what she saw and heard. The Virgin Mary that Bernadette saw was very young, too young, skeptics thought, for a Mother of Christ. As one English skeptic, Edith Saunders, explained—" Father Cayoux reached for a folder on his desk, and located a sheet of paper inside. He began to read from it. " 'Bernadette looked into the grotto and saw hard reahty. She was despised and rejected and had no way of making herself admirable. Life had cast her disarmed into its competitive arena. She was fourteen years old, but so small and young-looking that she appeared to be only eleven. . . . The ideal of a little girl is naturally a little girl, and the apparition had the form of a girl of dazzling charm and beauty. She appeared to be about ten years old, and in being even smaller than Bernadette she consolingly proved that one could be very small and yet be perfection itself.' "

To Amanda's analytical mind, this was all insightful. Bernadette had been suffering from reactive psychosis, the obvious result of real environmental pressure. Bernadette had undergone a total flight from reahty. In order to escape the problems of living, she had lost herself in imaginary satisfactions that made her existence more endurable.

Father Cayoux deserved praise. "That information, that's very good," Amanda told him.

"There is more, much more," Father Cayoux promised. "The Virgin that Bernadette saw was wearing a pure white dress. Well, that's more or less traditional. And Bernadette herself admitted that the Virgin was dressed much like the Children of Mary, a group of young

Catholic women volunteers in the village who were very beloved and were often attired in pure white dresses."

"What about the Immaculate Conception bit?" Liz intemipted. "The Virgin infonning Bernadette that she was the Immaculate Conception, a concept that Bernadette could not have known about."

Father Cayoux uttered one of his characteristic snorts. "Bernadette knew about the Immaculate Conception, that I guarantee you. She may not have understood the concept, but she knew about it. After all, when Bernadette was staying in the town of Bartres a few months before her visions, she attended or saw the Feast of the Immaculate Conception celebrated there as a holy day. The Feast of the Immaculate Conception was also a holy day in Lourdes itself. Bernadette certainly absorbed this."

"Yet, Bernadette carried it off, presented it all as something new to her," Liz said.

"Possibly with some help," Father Cayoux added mysteriously. He proceeded to clarify and expand on his remark. "There may have been a degree of stage management."

"Meaning?" Liz prodded.

"While Father Peyramale would not allow his fellow priests to attend Bernadette's exercises at the grotto," said Father Cayoux, "he did permit Bernadette to have constant contact with these clergymen in the confessional. These clergymen, in Lourdes and Bartres, were Marians, strongly pro Mary and in favor of the Immaculate Conception dogma, and one of them once pointed to Bernadette, saying, 'If the Blessed Virgin were to appear to anyone, that's the sort of a child She would choose.' Furthermore, her Lourdes confessor constantly advised Bernadette, despite all restrictions, to continue to go to the grotto. In short, there were members of the church pushing for the acceptance of the visions. Nor were Bernadette's parents as far removed and as innocent of the happenings as has been made out. Once, when Bernadette came down to the grotto, with a great crowd on hand, perhaps four thousand people, Madame Jacomet overheard Frangois, Bernadette's father, whisper to her, 'Don't make any mistake today. Do it well.' "

"Wow," said Liz. "Is that really tme?"

"It was noted firsthand," Father Cayoux assured her.

Amanda, whose mind was on her Ken, went to something else. "But the original cures, like the Troy girl," she said to the priest, "what about them?"

"Many of the cures were not ascertained," said Father Cayoux. "You've cited a perfect example. Eugenie Troy. Twelve years old. She had been blind for nine years. She WMit to Lourdes, to the grotto, from

Luz, and was embraced by Bernadette, and came away with her sight fully restored. Shortly after, her priest in Luz revealed that Eugenia had never been totally blind, had always been able to see and to work at her job. There had been no cure at all, and besides, the doctors in 1858 were very limited in their knowledge, and unscientific."

"But they are scientific today," Liz challenged him, "and cures supposedly occur."

Amanda turned to Liz. "There is wish fulfillment, self-hypnosis, and there are so many diseases that physicians still don't know enough about, and many are eventually—especially under certain stimuli—self-curing."

"Precisely," agreed Father Cayoux. "There can be cures, but they need not be regarded as miraculous." With a grunt, he lifted his bulk out of the chair and stood over the two women. "After the cures began, and Lourdes had its foothold in fame, there was a problem. The problem was the young Bernadette, who was growing up as a legend What to do with her? Continual exposure to the public, long after the visions had ceased, might lead her to contradictions, unvisionary behavior, might erode her legend. The masters of Lourdes encouraged her to remove herself from the public eye, become a relatively faceless nun. To this end, her masters encouraged her to leave Lourdes forever. She decided to go to Nevers, enter the convent of Saint-Gildard, become a cloistered nun. Before Bernadette was removed to Nevers, an eligible young man, an aristocrat and medical student, who had fallen in love with her, came to Lourdes to propose marriage. Bernadette was never told about that. The young man was rejected by her guardians, and she was spirited out of sight to the convent."

The women had come to their feet. "Might there be anything of interest for us in Nevers?" Liz wondered.

"I don't know," said Father Cayoux. "It is true that Bernadette's novice mistress in Nevers, Mother Vauzou, did not believe in Bernadette's visions. Mother Vauzou also treated her little nun harshly, almost sadistically, because she considered Bernadette too self-important and vain. However, this may have been Mother Vauzou's problem and not Bernadette's. At any rate, that was in the old days. I have no idea how the sisters up there regard Bernadette today, probably highly since she was elevated to sainthood after her death in 1879." He was ftissing about his tabletop now, obviously eager to retum to his duties. "You might go up there and see for yourself."

"We just might," said Liz. "Father, I don't know how I can thank you enough, for Mrs. Clayton and myself, for the time you've given us and for the balanced picture you've given us of Bernadette."

"My pleasure, I've tried my best to help," said Father Cayoux grumpily. "Good luck to you both."

Aiter they had left the presbytery, exiting from the front entrance into the waning afternoon, they paused to light cigarettes and then looked at each other.

"Well, what do you think?" Amanda wanted to know.

"What do you think?" countered Liz.

"For me, fascinating stuff, a healthier view of the Lourdes matter," said Amanda. "Maybe I'll try to repeat some of it to Ken. Only—"

"Only what?"

"Only I'm not perfectly sure about our fat priest friend," said Amanda. "It crossed my mind that much of his cynicism, backbiting, might have been caused by pique and jealousy of Lourdes, and the way it has outstripped Cauterets as an attraction."