Suffering Itself

Suffering Itself

The marble original of Germain Pilon’s Virgin of Sorrows—completed in 1586 and intended for the Valois funerary chapel at the Basilica of Saint-Denis—wandered far and wide before finding itself at the Church of Saint-Paul-Saint-Louis, in the Marais. This is the occasion to remind viewers that, upon coming out of the Louvre, they would do well to venture into a few Parisian churches like that one, where they can also admire Eugène Delacroix’s Christ in the Garden of Olives (The Agony in the Garden). And from there, they can walk less than a quarter of an hour—including a brief stop in the Place des Vosges—and find themselves before another Delacroix: The Piéta, or The Deposition from the Cross, at the Church of Saint-Denys-du-Saint-Sacrement, on rue de Turenne. The Virgin of the Piéta, holding her son’s body on her knees, and the Virgin of Sorrows, alone on the Rock of Calvary, her arms piteously clasped to her chest—these are the two most touching images in Christian iconography, the pure representation of suffering. And, even with the marble original in mind, I prefer the Louvre’s terracotta model, humbler, more intimate, more alive. The whitened clay and faded polychromy adds to its desolation. I saw the Virgin of Sorrows a few weeks ago and couldn’t stay away for long, but when I wanted to come and collect my thoughts again at her side, I couldn’t find her anymore. She isn’t exhibited today while I describe her. But don’t worry, she’ll be back soon. (Richelieu, room 214, RF 3147).