La Vierge de Chaillot

In Two Black Virgins of Paris  I wrote about Notre Dame de Bonne Délivrance and Notre Dame de la Paix.  In Nos Vierges Noires (1949) Saillens speaks only of these two examples in his section on Paris.  He also mentions a Chapel to Mary the Egyptian which contains a dark image of that saint.  In addition to these three examples, Begg (1985) mentions no less than 13 other examples, including reproductions, museum pieces and places where a Black Virgin was once reported to exist but no longer does.  Other citations merely have links of on sort of another to Black Virgins.

None of them mentions La Vierge de Chaillot, pictured above.  This Madonna and Child, clearly dark, is found in a side chapel dedicated to the Holy Family in the Church of Saint Pierre de Chaillot.  I stumbled across this church on my way to the Arc de Triomphe, in fact on my way to Neuilly to see Notre Dame de Bonne Délivrance.  Unfortunately, I missed visiting hours; as you can see from the photos here, the church is impressive, an Art Deco behemoth in concrete.

The Virgin pictured, however, is from the church which previously occupied this location dating from the 17th century.  The current edifice was built from private donations between 1933 and 1938 in a Romano-Byzantine model...with, as I said, a serious dose of Art Deco, especially in the sculptures by Henri Bouchard (1875-1960).  It's rather dark inside, as only a few stained-glass windows illuminate the space.

source

Curious, I Googled the name of the church plus "vierge noire" and came across an article referring to La Vierge de Chaillot as a Black Virgin: 

Si l’image a ainsi le pouvoir de modifier la pensée grâce à l’ordre de présentation ou à la sélection de certains thèmes, elle modifie également notre façon de considérer la Vierge par la manière dont on la figure. Ainsi, les représentations de vierges noires soulèvent bien des questions sur l’origine de ce type iconographique. À Paris, on en trouve actuellement à Sainte-Rita, Notre-Dame de Bercy (ill. 1), Sainte-Marie des Batignolles et Saint-Pierre de Chaillot. Sans pouvoir trancher au cas par cas à cause de l’insuffisance documentaire, on peut affirmer que cette situation tient soit aux matières utilisées (vieillissement entraînant une oxydation métallique, superposition de vernis, encrassement dû à la fumée des cierges,…) ; soit à l’idée qu’on se fait de Marie : certains s’accordent à penser que les artistes ont cherché un type ethnique, en s’appuyant sur le Cantique des Cantiques (« Nigra sum sed formosa »). Quelle que soit l’explication de la noirceur, cette couleur a modifié le rapport que les fidèles entretiennent avec la statue qu’ils fréquentent lors de leurs dévotions : l’art n’a nécessairement pas laissé leur pensée intacte par le fait même de son intervention.

In this article (Apport de l’archéologie à l’étude du culte marial parisien pour l’époque contemporaine) Marie-Laure Portal studies the cult of Mary in Paris and her iconography.  She talks about the theories surrounding the origin of her darkness but does not seem to find this of primary importance.  She is more concerned with how the color affects the relationship with her devotees:

"Whatever the explanation of the dark, this color has changed the relationship that believers have with the statue when they attend their devotions...."

Unfortunately, Portal doesn't speak of this and like her other identifications (Notre-Dame de Bercy, Sainte-Marie des Batignolles) this Virgin is not discussed by other writers on the topic.  Online searches find no other references to La Vierge de Chaillot as a Black Virgin.  I wonder how Portal came to the rather important conclusion quoted above.  Interviews, other accounts?  She doesn't say and her bibliography isn't clear as to the origin of this conclusion.

The fact this sculpture has a name does indicate she is of some importance, but there wasn't evidence of an especially active cult.  The church is adjacent, however to the church of Saint-Étienne-du-Mont, which was consecrated in 1626 but has its roots as a chapel built in 1222, when Saint Stephen was the patron of Paris.  There had been an abbey there since the 6th century, dedicated to Saint Genevieve.  It now houses the tomb of Saint Genevieve, Paris' current patroness.  In 1857, one Bishop Sibour, on his way to inaugurate the novena to Genevieve, was assassinated here; the assassin cried "Down with the goddesses!"  Why exactly, I'm not sure, although the assassin was a priest motivated by Sibour's support of the papal doctrine of the immaculate conception, proclaimed three years prior after centuries of bitter controversy.

Apparently the celebrated occultist Eliphas Levi was a witness to this event.  He had in fact, recently met the assassin-priest and claimed to have dreamed about the assassination two nights prior.

So, we can assume the priest believed the doctrine of immaculate conception elevated Mary to the stature of a goddess.  Some observers have said the Black Virgins represent just that:  a Christianization of pagan goddesses.  In many ways, she is a goddess and in the south of France one is just as likely to find an image of the Virgin Mary in the center of crosses as much as an image of Jesus.  Just one last observation.  Saint Bernard, who is often cited as an influence on the color of the Black Virgin and who had an important role in the development of the worship of Mary, was opposed to the doctrine, which he felt dehumanized her and undermined her role as an earthly mother.

Where in the World?

Where am I?

Two Black Madonnas of Paris

While I'm in the process of re-publishing all my old Black Madonna essays on LoS, I figger I might as well get around to writing a little bit on some of the other Madonnas I've since seen but yet to write about.

Notre Dame de Bonne Délivrance, located in the wealthy Parisian suburb of Neuilly-sur-Seine, is one of the two Black Virgins I saw this time last year when I spent a week in Paris.  She is an utterly charming example of the genre, perhaps the most graceful I have seen; she's definitely one of if not the blackest. Her chapel is a tidy design, with clean lines and a delicate palette. Let's face it, French churches tend to be dark, damp and gloomy affairs. This statue is fortunate to be found in such a well-maintained spot, and regularly open to visitors. I saw her on a cold yet sunny day, and the light filtering gently through the stained-glass windows created a calm and cheery aspect.

One of these windows pictures a nobleman in prayer before the Virgin and in this window.  She is also very black. This contrasts with other Black Virgin chapels, such as Notre Dame de Tudet, where the Virgin is depicted on a banner as fair-skinned, or with Notre Dame de Sabart, who in a coronation hymn is referred to as "White and pure under her veils." Notre Dame de Bonne Délivrance is an example whose blackness is a critical identifying feature; she is unquestionably a "Black Madonna."

Readers who have followed my posts on "les Noires" may tire of this theme--that of the perception of and meaning attached to the Madonna's color--but I have yet to take a systematic approach to this topic and mention it for the benefit of readers who may be approaching each post as their first. For a more coherent explanation of what I'm on about, please see "From Majesty to Mystery: Change in the Meanings of Black Madonnas from the: Sixteenth to Nineteenth Centuries" (here).  Scheer does a great job of  examining at which point a black Virgin becomes a Black Virgin.

Allow me to quote Wikipedia at length to provide some history about this statue:

....Notre Dame de Bonne Délivrance....[is] also known as the Black Madonna of Paris. The statue dates from the 14th century, replacing an 11th-century version. It is 150 centimeters (59 in) tall, and made from painted limestone.

This statue was venerated by many notable French saints, including Vincent de Paul and Francis de Sales—it was in front of the statue that de Sales recited the Memorare, and made his religious conversion.....

When the church [St. Etienne des Grès] was destroyed during the Revolution, all its contents were sold; the statue was saved by a pious rich woman named Madame de Carignan. De Carignan was arrested during the Reign of Terror, and she would pray to Our Lady in prison with others who had been arrested for their Catholicism. When de Carignan was freed in 1806, she gave the statue to the Sisters of St. Thomas of Villeneuve, who had been imprisoned with her. The statue is still located in the chapel of the Congregation of the Sisters of St. Thomas of Villeneuve in Neuilly-sur-Seine.

Emile Saillens, in Nos Vierges Noirs (1945) has different dates.  Without even a legend to account for her origin, he says, the history of the sculpture dates to April 20th, 1533, when a confraternity was formed to honor her.  This confraternity had up to 12,000 members, among them members of the aristocracy, including Louis XIII.  Saillens doubts that the current statue dates beyond the Revolution, as old commentators write that she was a work in ancient, black stone, rudely sculpted and naiively painted.  They harped upon the coarseness of execution, even making a virtue of it.

Thus the current statue at Neuilly, Saillens concludes, cannot be the same; the current statue is both "modern" and gracefully executed.  We have no idea, then, what the original looked like.  Both Saillens and Wikipedia agree that the current statue replaced an older one; they disagree on the dates and are unclear as to when one replaced the other.  Other sources, however, also say the current statue is from the 14th century, replacing an 11th century original.

Saillens states, according to other commentators, that the "Grès" of the original church were probably grave markers and that a Black Madonna was likewise surrounded by a cemetery in Marseilles and Arles.  Given that he also speaks of Notre Dame de la Paix in Paris, it is odd he doesn't mention that She, too, presides over a cemetery!  Saillens also suggests that in both Lyon and Paris the cult of Isis was replaced by that of the Black Madonna.

This Madonna was the object of a fervent cult and was invoked against a number of miseries and calamities, not the least of which was heresy.  She was especially useful against the Huguenots.  I found this striking, as Notre Dame du Taur, a Virgin of Toulouse not generally recognized as a Black Virgin, was also known as Notre Dame de Delivrance after she saved the city from Huguenots in 1562!

As Wikipoop says, devotion to this Virgin dates back at least to the 11th century; St. Etienne des Grès was built on the site of an oratory built by St. Denis--Patron Saint of Paris--and dedicated to St. Stephen. If we consider that St. Denis (Dionysus) was martyred circa 250 CE, we're looking at a Virgin with a connection to the earliest days of Christianity in Paris. Denis was one of the seven "apostles to the Gauls" sent from Italy by Pope Fabian to Christianize what is now France. For his pains, Denis lost his head:

After his head was chopped off, Denis is said to have picked it up and walked ten kilometres (six miles) to the summit of Mont Mars (now Montmartre), preaching a sermon the entire way, making him one of many cephalophores in hagiology.

Another of these seven apostles was Saint Sernin (Saturninus), who also died from a head injury, his brains bursting out of his cracked skull after being dragged through Toulouse by a raging bull. Sernin's companion Saint Papoul (Papulus), evangelist of the Lauragais, was also beheaded and, like Denis, is a cephalophore (a category of saints who were beheaded then carried their heads in their hands, or spoke).  This seems to be a particularly French hagiographic element; one folklorist counted 134 examples of cephalophores in France alone.  If memory serves me correctly, these head-carrying saints almost all date from rather early on; it's easier to claim it happened when the event is in the distant past....rest assured, the case for John Paul II's canonization doesn't include anything so fancy!

Notre Dame de la Paix is another Black Madonna in Paris, found in the chapel serving the Picpus Cemetery. Is is small, maybe a little over a foot high, and dates from the 15th century. It is said to have cured Louis XIV of a serious illness. Like the Virgin in Neuilly, she is also in a convent, in this case with the Sisters of the Sacred Heart.

Picpus Cemetery is notorious because of its proximity to the Place de la Nation, which we have already discussed and which, under the name Place du Trône Renversé, was the site of the scaffold and the guilloutine. Picpus Cemetery holds numerous victims of this infernal machine, but (presumably) none of them were cephalophores, urban legends notwithstanding.  At least 1300 people were interred in mass graves in Picpus.  The remains of General Lafayette (who died naturally and was buried with decorum) are here, as are those of his mother-in-law and sister-in-law; unlike the General, these unfortunates were guillotined and thrown into the pit.  Perhaps given it's shameful history, it's not the easiest place to find. The chapel and cemetery now sit across the narrow street from a large service station and the chapel itself is grey, drab and somewhat gloomy.

A question I have, though, is whether or not Notre Dame de la Paix is really a Black Virgin. The statue is dark and Begg and Saillens, as well as at least one or two other online writers, refer to her as such, but neither of these latter are traditional academics.  Indeed, I often suspect that people see a Black Virgin where historically, the Virgin in question might not have been perceived as such at all. Nevertheless, one of these writers does have some background to offer:

This icon went through many hands before arriving in Paris. She was a gift to the royal family line of Joyeuse, given as a wedding present. It first place of residents [sic], was Chateau de Couiza very close to Rennes le Chateau of South of France. The statue was passed through the family line and made its home in Toulouse, before finally coming to Paris in 1576. It finally came into the hands of Charles de Lorraine, the Duc de Guise, who built a beautiful chapel to house this Black Virgin....The Lady of Peace was finally given as a gift to the Sisters of the Sacred Heart in 1806.

I can't vouch for this history, but why not? It makes no wild claims and seems plausible enough, and it's damn interesting that She stayed for a spell in the Southwest, especially Toulouse and near Rennes-le-Chateau. Saillens substantiates this history, but refers to the small statue as an ebony reproduction of the "Vierge de Joyeuse" destroyed in 1793.  This Virgin took Her name from the family with which she was associated.  The original, a gift, is thought to have been created in 1518 and based upon a Greek prototype of Eirene [Eirene means "peace"!] carrying Ploutos (see here) on her left arm, and olive branch in her right.  Saillens supposes that the olive branch and the black color might have symbolized the union between two families (it was a wedding present, if you'll recall), both of which had lands and properties in areas where other Black Virgins had popular cults.

While I should probably focus on Saillens' identification, I'd like to say a word or two about those online references because they seem to represent a contemporary feminist position, an emotional identification with a Virgin whose blackness represents an accentuated femininity, earthliness and power, not to mention pre-Christian prototypes.

There is a reference to her on a site that speaks of "healing tours" and the "sacred feminine."  I admit I am a little derisive towards this kind of thing, but only because it seems something historically suspect is being propagated. It's interesting, nonetheless, to speculate as to why these Black Virgins are so important to a certain "new-agey" feminist element. I think the yearning for some sign that there can be a place within traditional religion is a strong pull. Dissatisfied with the Church, one can still find within its iconography something powerful, of value, something to redeem it.  Catholics, Evangelicals, Protestants, it's a man's world; it's only natural that strong, spiritual women would seek an alternative to a world in which women are denied (to varying degrees) the same access to the clergy that men have, and thus implicitly not quite equals.

That said, the tendency to overreact and make wild assumptions about Mary Magdalene or the Virgin Mary tends to detract from the credibility of this approach from a historical point of view.  Which does nothing to diminish its validity as a spiritual phenomenon, in my opinion; it merely adds fuel to my speculative fires as to how many "Black Virgins" are products of contemporary as opposed to traditional perceptions.

Sadly, I lack access to the primary resources needed to trace these identifications, which is a pity, because my instinct tells me these could be two very instructive examples....

Tossa del Mar and La Virgen de Montserrat

Previously published on my old website.

La Virgen de Montserrat, La Moreneta, "The Little Black", is one of the most celebrated Black Virgins among the approximately 500 reported to exist worldwide. Patroness of Catalonia, she takes her place among those Black Virgins which in addition to generating fervent devotion, serve as national symbols, such as Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico and the Queen of Poland at Czestochowa.

La Moreneta is not restricted to a purely nationalist role. Secondary images—copies—can be found outside Catalonia at Lourdes and Santiago de Compostela, two of the most important pilgrimage destinations in the Catholic world.[1] When I first entered Tossa del Mar’s (Catalonia) parish church and ran directly into a Black Virgin I was stunned. Her presence was much less surprising when I realized I was facing a reproduction of La Moreneta rather than a primary image proper to Tossa. Nevertheless she was unexpected, for I had never run across a mention of her presence there. Even the ubiquitous Begg Gazeteer[2] lists copies of La Moreneta and other famous Virgins, but nothing about Tossa.

The parish church at Tossa is dedicated to Saint Vincent, a Hispano-Roman Christian martyred during the reign of Diocletian in 304 CE. The church has chapels dedicated to the Immaculate Conception, the Ascension of Mary and both the Virgen of Carmen and the Virgen of Lourdes. La Moreneta is found at the entrance, to the right. Opposite her and at the same height there is a statue of the Virgin of Fatima. That makes six separate shrines to the Virgin in this modestly-sized church, including some of the most revered apparitions in the Catholic world: Lourdes, Fatima and Montserrat.

A seventh image is found on an 18th century tapestry representing the legend of the invocation of the Mare de Déu del Socors (socors = aid, assistance, rescue). As the legend goes, a small boy called Xixanet was playing marbles one day and broke a jar of cooking oil his mother had given him to fill. “The Devil take you!” she cried in anger. And take him he did. A demon arrived to carry the clumsy lad away to the Pit. Horrified and repentant, the mother quickly called upon the Virgin, who arrived with her sceptre (known as “sa mitja cana”[3]) and drove the demon off and sent him back to whence he came. This act is remembered in a popular dance performed when this miracle is celebrated on July 2nd. July 2nd, in addition to being a feast day for several other saints, is also the original day of the Feast of the Visitation, the day the Virgin Mary went to visit Elizabeth, mother of John the Baptist. This Virgin is honoured in Tossa in a small chapel near the parish church. It was erected in the 16th century by mariner Antonio Caixa after a promise made for favors received. She remains the Patroness of Tossa’s sailors and fishermen.

Begg’s entry on La Moreneta is extensive and worth quoting in its’ entirety: 

The documentary evidence for the devotion to Our Lady of Montserrat dates from 932 when the count of Barcelona confirmed and renewed an endowment made to the shrine by his father in 888, soon after the BV was found among the rocks. The gift was confirmed again by in 982 by Lothair, King of France. According to the legend, the rocks of Montserrat, formerly smooth, became serrated at the Crucifixion, after which the statue, carved by St. Luke, was brought from Jerusalem to Barcelona by St. Peter. It was hidden on the Sierra de Montserrat to save it from the Moors, and was found by shepherds guided by a choir of angels, possible in the 8 C. (Moss and Cappannari state it is known to have been black since at least 718). When the Bishop of Manresa tried to move it to his cathedral it refused to budge.

The present statue is a 12 C.(?) majesty; 38 ins; seated with the child held centrally. Montserrat is the home of Catalan nationalism and scholarship, where the language has always been preserved thanks to the great monastery library of the Benedictines and the famous boys’ choir, the Escalona. The sardana is danced regularly in front of the Church. [As with the non-black Virgin of Tossa] The BV is concerned with fertility and marriage, “No es ben casat qui no dun la done a Montserrat” (He is not well wed who has not taken his wife to Montserrat). St. Ignatius of Loyola received his vocation there and hung up his sword. Wagner was inspired to write Parzival there (Montserrat as Grail Castle). Goethe and Schiller both attributed great importance to Montserrat, and the house where Beethoven died was an ancient fief of the abbey.

Former Temple of Venus

Right off the bat, one notices themes typical to other Black Virgins. Found by shepherds (or herdsmen), the statue was immovable thenceforth from the place where it was discovered. The special relationship with fertility and marriage is common (see Notre Dame de la Daurade). It’s also quite common to find important Marial shrines on the site of old pagan temples. The Grail connection is a bit more fanciful; it is surprisingly common folklore among les Noires, at least in Begg's work; but one must be careful to sift through the manure to make sure any Grail connections are not the more recent additions of goofballs. That said, the idea that the Grail is not a thing but an idea, some kind of secret knowledge, is intriguing when we consider that La Moreneta was supposedly hidden at this site to protect her from the Moors. There are a number of Black Virgins, such as those at Tarascon-sur-Ariege and at Thuir, associated with victories over the Moors. In the legend of St. Fris, who in many ways is a surrogate for the Virgin, a victory over the Moors results in the death of our hero, whose body was then hidden within a rock, only to spring forth with new life centuries later. In many details St. Fris’ legend there are echoes of Santiago de Compostela, patron saint of Spain known as Santiago Matamoros: “the Moor-Slayer.”

In another article Michael P. Duricy clarifies some details. At first the image was called La Jerosilimitana due to the belief that it had been carved in the early days of the church. In what Duricy calls a “well-attested” account the image came to Montserrat in 718 to save her from the Moors. She then disappeared until about 890, when shepherds reported to their priest that they had heard singing and seen lights in the mountains, a fact confirmed by both the priest and Bishop. La Moreneta was discovered in a cave and placed in a small church erected to house her.

Several sources consulted (Duricy, Morris) seem to favour the notion that La Moreneta is black due to prolonged exposure to candles and incense smoke. If Moss and Camppannari’s assertion that she was known to have been black since at least 718 is correct, a date which comes more than 150 years before her cult became well-established, this seems unlikely. The original statue, wherever it may be now, has long since disappeared. It would have easily predated the intense interest in Mary that developed in the 11th and 12th centuries. Perhaps, says, Duricy, what the shepherds found was a statue of Isis and Horus, often pictured as black and whose iconography was adopted by Christians for their representations of Virgin and Child.

The current effigy, however, dates from much later. Its blackness may result from the influence of the commentaries upon the Virgin by St. Bernard, or may come from some Grail-related esoteric symbolism. Perhaps it faithfully reproduces the color of the lost original. I reject the notion that it was the result of candles and smoke. My tentative proposal, a notion coming from recent encounters with other legends, is that there is some connection with the long struggle against the Moors; how exactly I’m not quite sure. I am reminded though, of the Al-Hajar-ul-Aswad, the “Black Stone” around which the Kaaba is built. This is the holiest shrine of Mecca, the focal point of Islam. The Black Stone is said to be black from having absorbed the sins of the faithful, who make the Hajj in hopes of kissing the stone and thus expiating their guilt. Its silver frame is a vaginal form, echoing the shape of the Moon around whose cycles the Muslim calendar is based.

But this speculation remains at this time something of a flight of fancy……what I would like to know is when she first became called “Moreneta” which as we stated at the beginning means “little dark one.” Perhaps we should amend that to mean the “little Moor.”

Works Consulted
:
Begg, Ean. The Cult of the Black Virgin.

Capella de la Mare de Déu del Socors. (tourist pamphlet in Catalan and Spanish)

“Cana” http://ca.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cana

Duricy, Michael P. Our Lady of Montserrat. http://www.udayton.edu/mary/meditations/olmont.html

Iglesia Parroquial San Vincente. (tourist pamphlet, Spanish)

See Also:

Morris, Paul N. Patronage and Piety: Montserrat and the royal House of Medieval Catalonia-Aragon.


Notes:

[1] In the Middle Ages, Compostela ranked with Rome and Jerusalem as a way to earn a plenary indulgence for all ones’ sins.

[2] Found in the of the interesting if not-entirely-reliable Gazeteer of  The Cult of the Black Virgin.

[3] According to Catalan Wikipedia, a “cana” is an old unit of measurement found throughout the old Catalan and Occitan world measuring more or less 1.6 meters depending upon the region. A "mitja cana" or half-cana would thus measure 80cm or about a foot-and-a-half long.

Notre Dame de Cahuzac

Re-published from my now defunct website.

According to the table of Vierges Noires located here and based upon the works of Jean-Pierre Bayard and Jacques Bonvin, there is a small polychrome Virgin from the 14^th century located at Gimont, in the Gers.  Why a polychrome Virgin is in the list is curious enough though there must there must be a reason for its inclusion.  Searching the internet I came across the briefest of blurbs on a message board where soon-to-be brides talk about where their weddings and receptions will take place, what the groom will be wearing, that sort of nonsense.  One of them mentions that the religious ceremony will take place in “Gimont (Gers) l'après midi dans la chapelle de la vierge noire probablement” that is to say “the afternoon in the chapel of the vierge noire probably.”  Given that this could be a misidentification I tried the usual Boolean fandango and came across another, more official reference from the Fleurance tourist office which speaks of “une chapelle honore la Vierge Noire de Cahuzac. Les pèlerins de St. Jacques de Compostelle trouvaient refuge à l’Abbaye de Planselve, une construction cistercienne etc. etc.…”  Translation:  “A chapel honoring the Vierge Noire de Cahuzac.  Pilgrims to Santiago de Compostela found refuge at Planselve Abbey, a Cistercian construction etc.etc.”

Googling “Notre Dame de Cahuzac” brings up scant information except for news about a Catholic school of that name associated with the parish.  One does find that the chapel was erected in the 16^th century in brick and stone to honor the virgin which appeared to a shepherd.

Other than those three skimpy references, one finds no further reference to a Vierge Noire at Cahuzac.  The chapel does have many of the characteristics of the Vierge Noire.  The cult is evidently very active, with candles abundant, devotion to Notre Dame de Cahuzac specifically rather than Mary generally and with votive plaques and decorations attesting to her intercession for various cures and salvations.  An apparition to a shepherd also jibes with Vierge Noire legendry.  Most importantly, she is definitely dark in hue.

Unlike every other Vierge Noire I have seen, however, she is not a Virgin in Majesty or a Madonna and Child, but is here a pieta; a Virgin of Pity who holds the dead Christ in her lap, a motherly gesture to be sure, but one which is not usually associated with les Noires.

One also finds that this chapel once housed another statue called Notre-Dame-des-Neiges (Our Lady of the Snow).  This was a mother and child which from photographs is a particularly charming piece.  It was (or is) made of wood and dates from the first quarter of the 14^th century.  It sits 50 centimeters high.  Unfortunately some dickhead stole it during the night of January 7/8 in 1980.  Apparently it was put up for auction in Amsterdam in November 2003.  One assumes the government made some effort to recover the piece or to at least try and convince the Dutch authorities to do something about it, but as far as I know it’s somewhere in private hands.  (More scant data).

So, what’s up with Our Lady of the Snow?  Being a lazy bastard I present you with this explanation cut and pasted from the wikisource article itself cadged from the 1913 Catholic encyclopedia.

"Dedicatio Sanctæ Mariæ ad Nives".

A feast celebrated on 5 August to commemorate the dedication of the church of Santa Maria Maggiore on the Esquiline Hill in Rome. The church was originally built by Pope Liberius (352-366) and was called after him "Basilica Liberii" or "Liberiana". It was restored by Pope Sixtus III (432-440) and dedicated to Our Lady. From that time on it was known as "Basilica S. Mariæ" or "Mariæ Majoris"; since the seventh century it was known also as "Maria ad Præsepe". The appellation "ad Nives" (of the snow) originated a few hundred years later, as did also the legend which gave this name to the church. The legend runs thus: During the pontificate of Liberius, the Roman patrician John and his wife, who were without heirs, made a vow to donate their possessions to Our Lady. They prayed to her that she might make known to them in what manner they were to dispose of their property in her honor. On 5 August, during the night, snow fell on the summit of the Esquiline Hill and, in obedience to a vision which they had the same night, they built a basilica, in honor of Our Lady, on the spot which was covered with snow. From the fact that no mention whatever is made of this alleged miracle until a few hundred years later, not even by Sixtus III in his eight-lined dedicatory inscription [edited by de Rossi, "Inscript. Christ.", II, I (Rome, 1888), 71; Grisar (who has failed to authenticate the alleged miracle), "Analecta Romana", I (Rome, 1900), 77; Duchesne, "Liber Pontificalis", I (Paris, 1886), 235; Marucchi, "Eléments d'archéologie chrétienne", III (Paris and Rome, 1902), 155, etc.] it would seem that the legend has no historical basis. Originally the feast was celebrated only at Sta Maria Maggiore; in the fourteenth century it was extended to all the churches of Rome and finally it was made a universal feast by Pius V. Clement VIII raised it from a feast of double rite to double major. The mass is the common one for feasts of the Blessed Virgin; the office is also the common one of the Bl. Virgin, with the exception of the second Nocturn, which is an account of the alleged miracle. The congregation, which Benedict XIV instituted for the reform of the Breviary in 1741, proposed that the reading of the legend be struck from the Office and that the feast should again receive its original name, "Dedicatio Sanctæ Mariæ".

Analecta Juris Pontificii, XXIV (Rome, 1885), 915; HOLWECK, Fasti Mariani (Freiburg, 1892), 164-6.

MICHAEL OTT

Our Lady of the Snow is a widely revered apparition of the Virgin and there is a large church dedicated to her in Prague, a vast cemetery in her name in Montreal, a large shrine in Belleville, Illinois and a famous Cistercian abbey in Ardeche.  The Cistercians, if you recall, also had an abbey near Cahuzac.

So in this chapel one finds a Black Virgin along with the usual cast of characters:  Jeanne D’Arc, St. Germaine de Pibrac and not one but two chapels dedicated to St. Thérèse.  All of them represent the French penchant for saints who were suffering young girls.  Along with another young sufferer, St. Bernadette (of Lourdes fame), they are the most popular Saints in France.  In the Midi-Pyrenées and thereabouts you will find at least three of them in every church you visit.  From Aucamville to St. Gaudens, I’ve seen them everywhere.  Saints Germaine and Thérèse are especially noted for miracles involving flowers and their iconography always includes them, recalling the virgin Mary in the process. (See Women from Los).

The church is covered in marble votive plaques thanking the Virgin for healings and near misses, salvation from war and who knows what other small “miracles.”  There are also several framed ribbons on the walls.  I’m not sure of their significance but they are very feminine.  The phrase “P.P. Moi” can only mean “priez pour moi”: “pray for me.”

Along with more traditional votive plaques, the ribbons are plentiful.  Other artifacts on the walls include a military standard and a propeller, of all things.  The walls have been painted in an elaborate geometric tromp l’oeil  pattern suggesting niches and recalling the even more elaborate patterns at the Albi cathedral.  Great care went into decorating the chapel. 

In the panoply of Vieres Noirs extant, then, ND de Cahuzac rests one of the least typical, but she is probably worthy of inclusion in the list.  As we have seen elsewhere, what qualifies as a bona fide Black Madonna is very fluid;  Though she might not have originally been considered among their number, it is clear that many regard her as such now, perhaps by this association elevating her as something beyond the common Virgins and imbuing her with a special significance.  I place the information about her before you and let you be the judge.