This shrine was erected in 1879 by the aristocrat who lived in the estate across the street from it: the Baron de Woelmont, whose coat of arms we find under the Madonna. When his wife lay deathly ill, he prayed to Mary and promised to build her a chapel if she but saved the baroness. She did, and he had her shrine constructed close to his home, but far away enough so that the villagers could gather there without bothering him or vice versa. It sits in the woods on a knoll above an ancient Roman road, on which one can still hike to the next village. The inscription under the coat of arms says: "Le ciel est ouvert pour recevoir les âmes qui ont mis leur esperence en Marie.” (i.e. Heaven is open to receive the souls, who put their hope in Mary.)

I don’t think it is a coincidence that on the same day in 2012, on which I visited the Black Madonna of nearby Walcourt, I also visited the Black Madonna of Maillen and had a very similar experience. In both cases educated men claimed to know that these Virgins aren’t actually “black Madonnas” while the people claim that they are. Here the sign on the road clearly points to the “Black Virgin” in the woods, all the people of the village have known her as such for generations, but the “better educated” gentleman in the manor house next door claims she is not a Black Virgin, that she merely looks black because the metal she is made of oxidized. Well, the whole phenomenon of Black Madonnas didn’t spring from educated minds, but from the needs of the common people of a powerful dark Mother. The people never asked: “Was she black from the beginning?” On the contrary, they often talk about how she turned black in a fire or by other means, theologically speaking, by taking on the sins of her children. Their question is: “Does she have power to help us?”

the shrine in Maillen