The strange Black Madonna

 

“The history of our pilgrimage is lost in the continuation of the centuries. We could not assign a date, nor an original description to the object of the first prayers of the faithful.” This is what Mgr Beauséjour – Saunière’s nemesis – wrote in August 1912 about the statue of Notre-Dame-de-Marceille.
It is clear that the statue was at the origin of Christian worship at Notre-Dame-de-Marceille. It is also clear that this veneration is very old – no-one questions the extreme age of the statue that is still venerated in the basilica. Where it was originally placed, is the subject of some debate. Some seem to suggest it was in or near the miraculous spring, others speak of an underground chapel.

The discovery of the Black Madonna

The story of its discovery has already been recorded, but we will repeat it here once again: “At one time, in the quite remote past, a ploughman who cultivated his field on the slope of Marcellan saw his ox stop, as if halted by an invisible obstacle. He pushed it in vain, to urge it on, but it stood stock-still and resisted every prodding. The ploughman, who was amazed at first, suddenly felt the only other thing he could do was to call to Heaven for help. Then, somehow inspired by this plea for divine assistance, he began to dig the ground where the ox had stopped, only to find that it contained a statue. It was that of a wooden Madonna, brown and dark, with a celestial smile on her face. With great respect, he took the statue to the door of his house, where everyone in his family rejoiced at the sight of it. But their joy was short-lived: the following morning, the Madonna had disappeared. The ploughman returned to his field, and found the image in the place where he had discovered it the day before. Again, he rejoiced and carried it home, but in vain. It returned once again to the place where he had found it. He tried a third time, but to no avail. The stature returned to its hole in the ground.”
The news of the discovery apparently spread very quickly. The local monks recognised this intervention as divine will… and, according to the tradition, they built the first chapel there, to house the statue. Apparently, this story was depicted in a painting, on display until 1793, when it was lost during the upheavals of the French Revolution.

The statue of a black saint

What does the statue look like? One description was made on 15th August, 1912, at the request of Mgr de Beauséjour, the bishop of Carcassonne:
“We wanted to study this statue, without the gilded coat which wraps it, in order to identify it conclusively. We were surrounded by qualified people and we believe we can affirm that it goes up back to the eleventh or the twelfth century.
“It is a virgin, made of wood (height 55cm, excluding base), sitting on an armchair of which there are only the frailest remains. She wears an evening gown, covered by a full coat, which still has its collar and is fastened all round by staples. The head of the virgin is surmounted by a wooden circle, the circular base of a crown, from which the florets have disappeared. This crown still has a veil, which falls onto the shoulders of the virgin, and covers the higher part of the coat. The Mother, on her left arm, holds the child Jesus, sitting on her knee, whose mutilated hands held an object now worm-eaten, perhaps a bird, which is so often the case.
“The folds of the dress, the pointed shape of the sandals, the presence of the crown, that of the veil which is somewhat detached, the attitude and the general aspect of the statue, all indicate that in spite of the many mutilations and the passing of time, the virgin stems from the era we have indicated above.”
Thus history and legend meet. However, the tradition has it that this wooden statue was created to replace another statue, which was much older and the source of many more legends and rumours. This “much older” image was the carved stone, venerated in the megalithic complex that originally stood on the site. However, unless there are some remains left in the miraculous spring, which has now been built over, there is no way for us to know the truth about the carving or the details of what it showed.
To this, we need to add that often in times of war or social turmoil, religious or historical treasures are often secreted in hiding places, often underground. After some time, their exact hiding place is often forgotten, and the original treasure is replaced with a more recent reproduction.
In the case of Notre-Dame-de-Marceille, we need to consider whether in this scenario, the hiding place was a hastily dug pit, the exact location of which was consequently lost – either by design or accident – or whether it was safely placed in an underground complex, the existence of which was known to only a handful of people. In the latter scenario, revealing the existence of the underground complex might not have agreed well with those who knew all about it, and hence the statue might have been moved, or a legend created as to how the statue was rediscovered. Is this idle speculation? It might seem that way at the moment, but wait…

When the bishop comes…

The above discussion of the substitution is not idle chatter. The issue was raised by Mgr. de Rébé, who included a very significant and enigmatic detail in a confidential letter addressed to a correspondent whose function was carefully excluded. We found reference to the document in a letter of 21st July, 1641, in the files of Allan Marquis de Saves, also published in the annals of Maurice Mout in 1755 – Toulouse, (collection Jonet and Sauche).
These documents and logic suggest that it was not divine intervention, but a carefully planned out project. Playing devil’s advocate for the moment, we should state that if the statue had been there for a long time, and it was indeed Divine Intervention, why the ox had not stopped there earlier? Idle speculation again, but given the extra-ordinary circumstances of the “official story”, is the that version likely? More likely, our ploughman would be part of a plan, to identify his field as the setting for a “divine intervention”. If the purpose of the project was to build a shelter for the statue, than the ploughmen might have been given money in return for his loss of income.
But there might be more to this than just an exchange of property for money. The field might actually have been located on top of an underground complex, which obviously must have had an access. The building could therefore be built on top of this underground complex, to guarantee that access to the complex was strictly regulated – or cut off. Thus, the quick erection of the building would make sure that the existence of the underground complex remained a carefully guarded secret. Obviously, if anyone knew of such an entrance, it would be our ploughman – after all, he spent most of his time in the area, and would notice any strange rocks or cavities in or near his field. Once the shelter was in place, there would no longer be any possibility that anyone might accidentally stumble across the access to the underground complex.
Mgr de Rébé visited Notre-Dame-de-Marceille. It has to be said that the bishop’s coming was justified from the point of view that he seemed to be carrying out certain checks, inspecting certain details that apparently could only be performed on site. His report reads that during his visit, he was able to discover elements that seemed to reveal to him what was there, and which should not be revealed to the public at large at any cost. This meant that three statues had to be removed from the site, as they were not “decent”. But that is not all. The three images were not destroyed – their fate was contrary of that of the Black Madonna: they were put into a hole in the ground, to be forgotten. Note that de Rébé states specifically they should not be destroyed, but buried. It suggests he either knew their value, or respected it – and though he did not want them to be revealed publicly, neither did he want them to be destroyed.
But there is another question: why did he not remove them from the area of Notre-Dame-de-Marceille, take them somewhere else? Furthermore, what was so indecent about these statues? Although a devout Catholic might have been surprised to learn that Christian churches were built on pagan sites, de Rébé and many others knew their history and were familiar with how “indecent”, pagan statues were often found near churches – evidence of their former use. Still, either de Rébé had great respect for the pagan origins of these sites, or somehow these statues were more important than most. Perhaps de Rébé was more “pagan” than Christian: he had to follow orders and make sure the statues were not discovered again, but at the same time they would remain on site, to “paganly empower” the Christian sanctuary.
Another dignitary of the Church, Mgr. de Grignan, applied the same technique. He also discovered stone statues and decided to rebury them. This practice is bizarre. It is as if the statues are indeed important, but at the same time revealing. Taking them elsewhere might have resulted in more questions – or observations from certain people with some knowledge, who might not be allowed to “know”. It seems as if the statues had to be “retained”, as if they would have some future purpose; literally, it feels as if they were important, but that their accidental discovery was not at the right time – which was deemed to be “later”.
In theory, this means that from the 17th century onward, the area around the basilica was a discovery waiting to happen: any ploughman or gardener would, given he was working on the right location, be able to chance upon such statues or other finds. Perhaps it would indeed be another “miraculous discovery”. This in itself does not make sense. And perhaps when they say “reburied” there is a bit more logic to it than assumed. If there is indeed an underground complex, perhaps they were “buried” in the sense of being stored there. That way, their future use – and preservation – would be less down to luck, and more down to logic – and intelligent design. In this scenario, some people would be in the know, others would not. Perhaps this could explain the ensuing frenzy in the centuries afterwards when various dignitaries would fall over themselves to acquire Notre-Dame-de-Marceille. Perhaps their intention was that, once in their possession, they would be able to recover this valuable archaeological deposit stashed away in an underground complex.

Black and white

But let us continue with the story of the Black Madonna. She displays some remarkable details, for those with eyes to see them. After all, the spring is said to benefit eyesight. The most striking aspect of the statue is its face. It has an enigmatic smile, its eyes are wide open, with dark pupils, which seem to scan the visitor. According to an old inscription, it stated that he “who sees the statue smiling at him, is certain to obtain the grace which he came to beseech”.
Reading through the various works on the subject, one detail seems to have escaped all authors: although the virgin is indeed black, the child Jesus is not; it is white. This might not be remarkable on first reading, but it is obvious that if the Virgin Mary was indeed black, then a totally white child would be – at the very least – an oddity. It is clear that some symbolic layer is at work here. Perhaps it was to express how the Black Madonna – dark symbolising the obscure, the underground – had somehow been the source of a light, solar child. Darkness would give birth to light. This in itself is pagan imagery: in Greece, Crete to be specific, the god Zeus was said to have been born in a cave. We know of Newgrange, where the sun penetrates the darkness of the passage grave on 21st December, the longest night of the year. The interplay of light entering the darkness, and being born from it, is a well-known pagan symbol. And with the presence of a megalithic complex on this site, we can only wonder whether this subtle hint had to incorporate that same message.
A final oddity of the statue is that most often, the object of worship in a church is prominently displayed. In this instance, the statue is almost hidden in the church – shielded by a railing that obscures the view. But that is not all. Apparently, the niche sheltering the virgin originally had an inscription: “Do not look at me, because I became brown.” The existence of this inscription is mentioned in a document known as the “Homage to Baron Podenas”. Here, someone has stated that the statue should not be looked at. “Avert your eyes.” It also makes you wonder about the use of the verb “to become”: it suggests that originally, the statue was not brown.
Speculation on the two parts of the sentence could be endless, but some is interesting. For example, was the inscription added at the moment when a switch occurred, when the original stone statue had been lost, and the new wooden statue of a Black Madonna installed? Were people asked to avert their eyes from this reproduction, as it was somehow not the real deal? Still, it is clear that few have paid attention to this detail; apart from the above homage, no-one else seems to have referred to it.
We know that in the early 20th century, experts identified the age of the statue as dating from the 11th or 12th century. But it did not always reside inside the church during that time. In fact, it was removed at the time of the French Revolution – but unlike the previously mentioned painting, it was recovered. On 1st February, 1791, an inventory was made of the goods of Notre-Dame-de-Marceille. It was the first in a long process of further inventories, seizures, sales and in general a degradation of the wealth of the estate. Another official report, dated 20th July, 1793, lists an inventory of everything that is in the church, including the Black Madonna. But then it disappears. It is reported “stolen”. But it is noted that the doors were not broken into, nor were any of the windows smashed. Was it a miraculous disappearance, on par with her miraculous appearance centuries earlier?

The revolving doors of the French Revolution

On 25th July, 1793, the police chief was given the task of carrying out an investigation into the disappearance. He turned up nothing. On 30th July, the national agent of Limoux drew up another report, with a complaint against “an unknown young woman who took advantage of the moment when a census of the church’s effects was made, to remove the statue”. So it seems an unknown woman somehow was either involved in the census, or managed to get in, and stole the statue. But there was no trace of her, or the statue. No-one seemed to know her, even though apparently one or more people saw her take it. The agent seems to have been extremely frustrated when taking statements, as he mentions in his report how people speak of a miracle. It suggests that our officer might have suspected the witnesses were not telling everything and that he was suspicious of them. Also, it is clear that the Revolution had seriously harmed the power of the churches and in essence had made them “accessible” to the police. Our officer was working “on the edge”, putting church affaires under civilian scrutiny – a novelty for those days, and fraught with the danger of stepping on the wrong toes, or angering the people involved.
Nevertheless, or perhaps with renewed vigour, the agent continued his investigation. He then learned that the statue was not stolen in July, but had actually disappeared on 29th June – suggesting the official census of the church’s goods carried out on 20th July was falsified – or at the very least incorrect. It did underline that his witnesses were lying to him. What is even more perplexing is that the agent learns that on the day of the theft, the church was guarded and that no-one would thus have been able to force open the doors – unless the officer guarding the premises was involved in the disappearance and aided entry. Obviously, the agent has more questions than answers: what to make of the mysterious woman, and also what to make of how the thieves entered the premises, if not aided by the guard?
The report mentions an intriguing detail; a strange detail. It reports how in the field next to the church, there suddenly appeared, as if rising from the ground, a strange young woman, dressed in black. She fled, running, apparently holding onto the statue of the Madonna. This would be remarkable, as the statue is quite heavy. The guard was said to have run after her, but in vain. Not that she outran the guard, but because suddenly, he no longer saw her or the statue. It was as if the ground had swallowed her up…
On 8th August, the Revolutionary Committee of Limoux was summoned, together with the municipal council and the national agent of Pieusse. Apparently, this disappearance was of great concern to them, specifically as it affected their newly acquired status in the community. It seems that the inhabitants were more and more worried about its disappearance. To some extent, one should perhaps wonder whether the theft was orchestrated so as to cause a loss of face and esteem to the new Revolutionary officials – who after all had done away with the power and esteem of the Church… the bailiwick of the Black Madonna.
Whoever was behind the theft and whatever the motive, it is known that rumours began to circulate about how a group of unknown people began to move around at night on the grounds of Notre-Dame-de-Marceille. Furthermore, like the woman before them, they seemed to “disappear”. This would soon lead to rumours that an underground complex had been discovered where hidden treasures were buried, said to have been entrusted by rich local aristocrats, with people descending on the place from… no-one knew where they came from. If these were indeed strangers, they were definitely intimately aware of the area and specifically of the underground complex. Furthermore, it seems that somehow, there was a connection from this complex to the inside of the church – used by the thief of the Black Madonna. Although no-one knew who these people were, it seems that they all shared one characteristic: they were dressed in black. Although it would not help any police investigation, it does show their actions were organised.
In order to calm the situation, the revolutionary committee made a formal complaint against the overseers of the church on 21st June, 1794, stating they had removed the statue. This complaint, however, was never followed up.
Wherever she was hiding, we do know that the Madonna turned up: in the trunk of François Lasserre, former regional prior of the Blue Penitents. As to the identity of the young woman, nothing would ever be heard about her. Nor would there ever be any trace of the group of individuals that somehow seemed perfectly knowledgeable about the old underpasses of Notre-Dame-de-Marceille. What was going on here? It is clear that the witnesses had lied to the police, and that the police therefore charged them. But soon after this charge, the statue was recovered, and no further legal action was ever taken. It seems likely the members of the church itself had been responsible for the removal of the Madonna and when pressed by the police, became so afraid that they decided to stop their activities and give the Madonna back to the community. Why? Why steal, or rather hide, it in the first place? Good questions…
After the Revolution, the statue would be returned in time for the reopening of the church, on 8th March, 1795. G. Migault wrote on the subject: “This episode of the removal of the statue is curious, almost like a detective novel; it is, however, brought back to us in all the letters, in the official reports of the national agents.” Indeed. But it also shows that at the time of the French Revolution, two hundred years ago, there was definitely still an underground complex near the church, with a group of people aware of it – and making use of it. Furthermore, one would suggest that the complex still exists today…