The hermit of Notre-Dame-de-Marceille

 

R.P. Migault writes that “the 17th century gives us the name of a hermit, Antoine Daude. This hermit was witness to a marriage contract, dated 3rd November 1611, between two people of Limoux. As he is known ‘to have known the parts well’, before embracing the lifestyle of the hermit, he had obviously lived in Limoux, from where perhaps he originated. He received the habit of the hermit from the hands of Mgr de Vervins around 1610. He died around the age of 80, and was buried on 17th September 1656, in the church of Notre-Dame-de-Marceille.” Hermits normally live alone, but also in a cave. The fact of the matter is that no specific details are given as to where exactly this man lived.

The ancient well, inside the Basilica of Notre-Dame de Marceille

But at least it is known that he was buried there. It is, of course, nothing special to be buried in a church; some churches are full of paving slabs that double as tombstones. In this regard, let us add that the floor of the church was originally made from boulders from the river Aude, at the bottom of the hill. These were quickly replaced, for obvious practical purposes, by stone slabs. But there is no mention of the existence of tombstones in the nave – and of no specific individuals interred there. In fact, apart from our hermit, there seems to be no specific record of any burials allowed here by the Church!

An ancient well

Let us also note that the ancient well seems to have been the focal point of all funerary activity, until the beginning of the Middle Ages, when it seems the well either dried up, or was lost when the nave of the church was enlarged – or during other modifications to the building. It would appear that nobody was interred here afterwards. But no doubt, requests for burials must have been received – and it would seem, therefore, that they were declined. This would suggest that someone in authority had the power and desire to decline such requests, and did so, even when notable people requested to be buried there. Why?
The first possibility could be largely due to simple material and technical reasons: ground water that might invade the tombs, resulting in moisture or pollution, if not poisoning of nearby springs. But this argument does not hold water, as the miraculous spring is only eight metres away from the church and its water seems perfectly fine. Furthermore, it is known that the first inhabitants made a ritual perimeter around the spring to dig funerary pits there. These burials seem to have continued into the era of the Romans, a people who had specific knowledge of hydraulic systems and water quality. If the water was harmful for human purposes, they would surely have put a stop to it. And after the Romans, the Merovingians continued this practice. Furthermore, the construction of a basement would not create any such problems: a basement would be ideal for tombs, as is in evidence in so many other churches.
Another disadvantage of not pursuing a policy of interment was that the Church missed out on income – something it was always loath to do. It is clear that selling space for the tombs of the deceased nobles of the area was a lucrative endeavour, if only because it was accompanied by subsidies in the form of saying prayers, masses and offerings for the deceased on an annual basis.
But Notre-Dame-de-Marceille definitely has missed out on that trade. The reason why should therefore be sought in other directions – taking us into an area where proof is more difficult – if not impossible – to gather. But in line with other assumptions, let us perhaps come up with the most straightforward answer: if the church was indeed built to seal off access to an underground complex, any burials in the church would, by default, open this complex up. Burials would therefore defeat the original purpose of the building – hence no burials would be allowed.
Let us further observe that only the span of the right-hand side of the nave comprises side chapels. The left-hand side is rectilinear and without any extensions apart from chapel of the Black Madonna. It is on this side that the well, the Madonna and the sacristy are situated. But it is unlikely that a tomb would be located in the sacristy.

Ancient drawing, showing the presence of the well (bottom middle)

Foreign labour

Against this framework, let us refer to a document of a vicar, César Brudinou, dating from the 17th century. This vicar asked for, and had fulfilled, works in the church. He employed a shaft sinker and two masons (which he got from Rome, Italy). The three men worked for twenty one days, without any break, to clean and restore the fabric “sealed in the undergrounds of the sanctuary”. When the job was completed, they left. Brudinou apparently stated laconically that these were “voluntary workmen in a quest for penitence”. It seems that somehow their twenty one-day shift was part of this penitence. It has to be said, though, that they did take one break: when mass was said, which they apparently attended.
Were there no local workmen knowledgeable enough to do the job? And were the closest available experts really only available in Rome? A more likely scenario seems to be that a foreign workforce, only speaking Italian, would have been a much better option when “discreet” work needed to be done. Furthermore, as they were from Rome, it is not beyond the bounds of probability that they were also used by the Vatican – and that they were therefore approved and classified as being able to hold secrets – to be discreet. Perhaps they had signed some sort of an official secrets act… Even if they were not “Vatican agents”, or might not be able to hold the secret, then it is clear that as they had no holidays, there was no chance that they would go and spill information to the locals. If they were indeed penitent, it is clear furthermore that there was no room for alcohol – the Blanquette de Limoux would not have been able to loosen their tongues.
The underground complex of the church was obviously in need of repair, but it seems that the person requesting the work to be carried out knew very well that no-one was allowed to know what was underneath. Hence, he had to go as far as Rome to find a workforce.

The "miraculous spring" on the sacred path, leading up to Notre-Dame de Marceille

It is clear, too, that this work was to be forgotten – not even to be known about. We did chance upon this document, but only in a very circumspect way: it was found in the archives of the Penitent order of St. Bertrand de Comminges. It was located in a batch of files and religious memoires belonging to the castle of Barbazan, near Montsaunès. But at the same time, it is obviously a very important document. To some extent, it proves that there is something underground at Notre-Dame-de-Marceille. But above all, it proves that in the 17th century, that something was in need of restoration. Furthermore, it is clear that somehow, these workmen had access to it from somewhere on the surface.

A mysterious well

So much for the church. Now let us consider the well. A well obviously penetrates into the ground – and might thus lead to the underground complex. It would definitely be a straightforward access route, easy to miss … and could explain how the thief was able to enter the church and steal the Black Madonna at the time of the French Revolution. Furthermore, the well might have been an element in a regulating or draining system.
The well inside the church had no practical purpose. The “miraculous spring” was located outside. Then, towards the 20th century, the decision was made to close it off completely: it was covered by paving slabs and today, any visitor to the church sees no visual sign that would betray the presence of a well inside the building. So, it would be logical to close it off. There was no apparent reason that it should be there, and a decision might have been made to remove it completely from the church’s premises. It was a potential danger, in more ways than one. At the same time, it was a lot of work for little benefit. If it was just a health and safety hazard, a nice metal grid could prevent any accident. After all, in normal circumstances, such wells are looked upon nostalgically, like the presence of the stone that fell from the ceiling, which is still kept in the church.
The well might have been the route for the burglary. The identity of the thief is unknown; the identity of the person who “recovered” the statue is known: François Lasserre. As mentioned previously, he was a prior of the Blue Penitents. And it is in that order that the note of Brudinou was unearthed. Is this a coincidence? Or were these the people that knew and operated the underground complex, perhaps like the Roman Salians before them? Also, note that the three Roman workmen were also on the premises as part of a “voluntary penitence”. Three times seems to be a bit of coincidence. Penitence and knowledge or exposure to the underground complex seem to go hand in hand. But that is not all: another person who seems obsessed with penitence is Bérenger Saunière of Rennes-le-Château: he would engrave on a Visigothic pillar the words “Penitence, Penitence”. Is this another coincidence? Or is there a possibility that there was a connection?
Who were these Blue Pentitents? They were congregations whose statutes emphasised penitential works, specifically fasting or other forms of discipline. God, they seemed to believe, could only be experienced by pain – suffering: deny the body pleasure, so the spirit can experience light. The number of such confraternities increased to such a degree that they soon were classified according to the colour of their robes, most often worn for processions or devotional exercises. This brings to mind the group of people known to move about at night around Notre-Dame-de-Marceille at the time of the Revolution. Although they were believed to dress in black, could it be another dark colour, like blue? Was a group of Blue Penitents active in this area? The answer seems to be yes, specifically as Lasserre was the one who “discovered” the statue, and documents on Notre-Dame-de-Marceille were recovered from their archives.
It is known that these confraternities often had their own churches and even their own cemeteries. Maybe some chose Notre-Dame-de-Marceille as their habitat.
First, let us assume this group of people did wear black and were penitents – this would have made them Black Penitents. The chief confraternity in this group was that of Misericordia, or of the Beheading of St. John, founded in 1488 to assist and console criminals condemned to death, accompany them to the gallows, and provide them with religious services and Christian burial. Intriguingly, other confraternities of Black Penitents are those of the Crucifix of St. Marcellus, a 4th century pope (feast day January 16).
The Blue Penitents, however, had confraternities in many regions, specifically in Rome – where, in total, more than one hundred confraternities lived. In France, a number of these confraternities were established under the patronage of St. Jerome. In all these organisations, aspirants had to serve a certain time of probation before being admitted.

Return to the hermit

But let us return to our resident hermit, Antoine Daude, whose presence on site coincided with the repairs carried out by our Italian workmen. It was also the time when Mgr. de Rébé carried out his round of inspection and asked for the burial of the uncovered stone statues. But that is not all. He asked that daily, shortly before nightfall, the church should be closed. He asked this both of the overseers in the church and of the hermit. Why? It seems that the bishop wanted to perform activities on site that might cause people inside the church to become suspicious – perhaps the odd sound, or perhaps a particular interest in a particular corner of the church. Again, it is evidence that de Rébé was on the prowl for something, and that he was not alone.
Let us go back to the remark made by R.P. Migault, when he writes that Daude accepted the “habit of hermit from the hands of Mgr. de Vervins”. It is a strange way in which to become a hermit. It suggests that Daude was either employed or initiated – rather than following a vocation. Furthermore, the “dress of a hermit” is not specific, but the dress code of a secret society, a fraternity – such as that of the penitents - often is. Furthermore, the name Daude is quite intriguing, for the river Aude runs at the foot of the hill. Was it, therefore, Daude or d’Aude? Was our hermit simply called “Antoine”, who lived along the Aude?
However, more strangeness lurks along the river. Hermits were notorious for living far removed from civilisation. Although Notre-Dame-de-Marceille might seem far away when compared with Limoux’s market square, it is in fact, often busier! The basilica was a place of pilgrimage and the many visitors would make the sought-after solitary lifestyle of a hermit impossible.
Therefore, a more likely scenario is that the hermit was a “guardian”, someone with a specific task, to be on site and make sure that anyone, who might drift off the path, could be stopped in his tracks. Furthermore, a little publicity near the church could state that somewhere nearby, lived a hermit, which would obviously have meant that the pious pilgrim would not venture near – a hermit, after all, wanted solitude. A pilgrim, in search of penitence himself, would make sure that he would not upset his fellow seekers for the blessing of God.
Nevertheless, although a hermit there was, a hermit was not mentioned in the archives. Despite the fact that we do know that he lived there from 1610 till 1656, when he was buried in the church, on 17th September, where exactly was he buried? In the church itself, or nearby? If so, why the exception, when we know that apparently no-one else was buried there? Was it a favour, as, after all, he did live there – where else would they bury him? We will never know why. Still, in the introduction to his book, R.P. Migault mentions that “caves” were filled in about 1860, in the chapel of the Cross. Therefore it seems that towards the 20th century, a different policy was pursued, in which the caves were filled in, the well was closed – and the former existence of the underground chambers was forgotten.
The question to ask is why was the underground complex filled in? Was it no longer deemed important? Was it too difficult to keep secret or operational? If it ever contained anything important, had that “thing” now been removed elsewhere? Again, these are questions with no obvious answers. But there is clearly an obvious pattern.

Return to the well

Today, any visitor to the church will find it difficult to imagine that there was once a deep water well in the nave. Furthermore, most guides no longer refer to its existence. The most recent document that still refers to it is by Migault, written in May 1962. The modern guide merely lists an ancient drawing of the building of the church, in which the well is still depicted.
Still, we have some further details about this well. It was situated on the opposite side of the entrance. According to a technical study by Professor Pierre Verdeil, of the Faculty of Sciences of Montpellier University, the internal diameter of the well was 1.6 metres, the depth close to 8.5 metres, with the height of the water level apparently constant, at approximately 0.8 metres.
The well was apparently dug in a “molasse”, made up from gravel, sand and pebbles. At a depth of 7.65 metres, the lining was made from stones from the river, assembled without mortar; the bottom of the structure was left untouched, to allow the free flow of water. A blockage of approximately 1 metre, using the stones from the river, ensured the integrity of the native ground. Furthermore, it was stated that the bottom of the well took the form of an upturned cone, thus allowing the water to be used until the reservoir was completely drained.
All well and good, but it does not explain why the well was there. Furthermore, this report suggests that the well could not have been used as the method of access for the thief, who stole the Madonna, suggesting that there is another secret connection between the church and the underground complex – or that the guard was indeed an accomplice in the theft of the Madonna.
The well therefore defies all logic, for not only did it apparently not conceal a secret access, there was no reason to build the well there. Slightly further south, it was easily possible to obtain large quantities of subsoil water. Why anyone would want to make a well here – from a purely logistical perspective – defies all logic.

Was the water from the well used in the underground complex? Was it used by initiates – penitents – in search of something, guardians of whatever? Was it the water used in a ritual, a baptism by water, the symbol of initiation? Whatever it was, Lasserre concluded that it was not miraculous. But if it was “secret”, why were all visitors invited to drink it? It is just one more contradictory observation that can be made about the well inside the church.
Although we are sure that the well must have had a purpose at some time, it is clear that in the past two centuries, a decision was made to remove it from memory. It is also clear that the well is somehow connected with the underground complex, but how precisely, is unknown. Furthermore, it is obvious that the well and the complex were originally secret, and filled in later – more recently, before all references to them were carefully thrown away in the hope that the mists of time would obscure knowledge of their existence – including their present existence. For it is clear that the complex does still exist; it just seems to be no longer accessible.