Written in Stone: The Medieval Lives of Roman Sarcophagi in Saint-Maximin

Introduction

When travelling back to Auvergne from Lyon, sometime between 474 and 477, Sidonius Apollinaris, the bishop of Clermont, set eyes on some labourers digging among tombs. Seeing that the tomb in question was his own grandfather’s, he had the men ‘tortured’ on the spot for desecration. ¹ This story shows the attachment that Sidonius held to Roman filial piety, in which male descendants venerated and cultivated memories of paternal ancestors. ² Arguably, funerary art was designed to commemorate the dead and perpetuate the memory of the deceased. Apollinaris later lamented the state of the cemetery, with vegetation growing from all sides. He was not so concerned about the state of the tombs per se, but the fact that the memory that was attached to them would vanish through neglect.

Memory involves a relationship with the past that is based on human experience. People cannot remember what they do not know or what was not transmitted to them. As Paul Connerton has pointed out, for memories to survive, they need to be re-enacted with strategies inscribing and incorporating rituals and texts as well as monuments. ³ Cicero thought that texts were a good way to achieve immortality as they would be a lasting memorial that would achieve more than ‘all the portraits and statues under the sun’. ⁴ Generally speaking, Cicero probably meant that text, depending on the way it was written, can be less subject to new interpretations. Certain meanings can, of course, be forgotten and errors can be made in interpretation, or by transcription, but if properly conserved, the text can carry a precise memory. With the caveat that if the text is not read, the memory is doomed to be forgotten.

Statues, on the other hand, with no text and no context, can be interpreted in radically different ways with time. A common example used to illustrate this point is the statuary on display in the Constantinopolitan cityscape after antiquity that came to be linked to new legends or reidentified with emperors or linked to Christian protagonists. ⁵ Sarcophagi were no exception. They too came to be reinterpreted in a variety of different ways. This was particularly the case in Southern France, where much like statues in Constantinople, their meaning became forgotten and they bore new identities. The memories linked to the first owner of these objects slowly faded into oblivion, as was the case for Sidonius’s grandfather’s tomb, or countless others that were simply reused and reidentified, as was common starting from late antiquity.

During the Middle Ages, some of these tombs came to signify something radically different: From simple tombs, they became objects of cults as some sarcophagi came to be associated with some of the most influential saints or important figures through texts. In the Alyscamps, a necropolis in Arles that housed many sarcophagi, the site as a whole became reinterpreted as a ‘memory space’ for the dead of a fictional battle led by Charlemagne against the Muslims that was thought to have unravelled there. The tombs were believed to have risen up from the ground to house those who had died in the battle. This story was sung in chansons de geste and eventually written down, thus creating a whole new signification for the Roman necropolis and its many tombs.

Tellingly, in the case of Arles, it is thus not so much that the objects were simply reused, as was the case for many sarcophagi, but that they were reinvented. In other words, not only were new meanings added to the tombs, but their history as a whole was reimagined to fit into a new narrative. Texts were used as the basis of that invented history; they became key to the interpretation of the tombs and, in time, the material proof of those written legends.

Many of these sarcophagi were part of a text-based model of viewing ⁶ whereby visitors would ‘see’ the objects through the known narrative. This study will examine how, after the original meaning of the tomb was lost, some sarcophagi in Provence came to be interpreted through other texts that were available during the contemporary period, namely, vitae. It will examine how text can reinvent an object and give it an entirely new meaning. The most significant example is the sarcophagus of Mary Magdalene located in the town of Saint-Maximin that became the focus of a major cult in the Middle Ages. I shall, thus, analyse how the text influenced and informed the interpretation of the object and show how it was through this text that the cult in Southern France was created and the object reidentified. In addition, as will be shown by examining pilgrimage accounts, the sarcophagi became the material proof of these legends and thereby reinforced the claims found in the vitae, namely, that Mary Magdalene was in Provence and preached there. Pilgrims no longer attempted to ‘read’ the object through iconographical analysis but simply interpreted the surviving physical tomb through the lens of the written legends that they already knew.

Sarcophagi and Reinterpretation: Reuse and Reinvention

Sarcophagi, by definition, are monuments for the dead, that is, they were meant and designed to honour the memory of a specific person. In fact, it was not rare to find sarcophagi with portraits of the deceased and sometimes of the patron of the sarcophagus. ⁷ Janet Huskinson, for instance, interprets sarcophagi as both mediating certain aspects of human life and reflecting different roles through which people could negotiate their identity. ⁸ More broadly speaking, scholars often interpret sarcophagi as expressions of social identity and bearers of symbolic meanings. ⁹ Yet, they are perhaps the most commonly reused objects in the Roman world, primarily reused to carry the memory of a new person or simply as spolia, used and incorporated into newly created architectural settings. In all these cases, a sarcophagus’s identity changed significantly. Objects and their settings can carry different meanings, and art historians today are reinterpreting our sense of objects as actors, carrying their stories with them and eliciting certain responses by virtue of their material qualities. ¹⁰

Reuse of Roman sarcophagi began in late antiquity, and the new owners had little qualm in desacralising the memory of a previous user. The case of the sarcophagus of Phaedra and Hippolytus, a second-century tomb found in Arles, is a good example. The lid of the sarcophagus initially carried a sculptural representation of the deceased couple. By the fourth century, the sarcophagus was reused and the new owner simply removed the sculpture of the man on the back and transformed the woman, who was on the front, into a man. This phenomenon continued well into the Middle Ages. One of the most common and most cited examples is that of Charlemagne, who was buried in a late antique sarcophagus. Again, if any thought was given to the original owner of the object, that is never mentioned in the sources. In many cases, the original epigraphy was removed and replaced with words added commemorating the new owner.

Although during the Late Antique period, reuse often meant forcefully removing the traces of the original owner and patron, this appears to have been less common in the Middle Ages. Specific knowledge about the history of a tomb was largely forgotten, and after multiple reuses, it might have been considered a normal practice to repurpose tombs. It seems quite obvious that people would have recognised Late Antique sarcophagi as something ‘old’. In the fresco in Sant’ Angelo in Formis dating between approximately 1072 and 1086 representing the entombment of Christ, the artist chose to represent a Roman sarcophagus similar to those found in early Christian settings. A similar sarcophagus was depicted in a manuscript illustration of the vita of St Benedict dating from around 1071. Late Antique sarcophagi, in essence, looked ‘ancient’, their carving was typical of the Roman era, and the use of marble was largely associated with that period, and that is precisely what made them valuable and sought after.

Working in parallel to reuse, reinvention became a common practice in Provence. Reinvention is a process by which the history of an object has been reimagined to fit a new narrative. It is, thus, quite different from reuse. In the case of Charlemagne, for example, the sarcophagus was probably chosen because it signified antiquity. Thus, although the specific history of the sarcophagus and its original bearer was not emphasised and was sometimes erased (as in the case of the Phaedra sarcophagus), no efforts were made to recreate a specific history of the sarcophagus. In the case of reinvented sarcophagi, a history was created for the object so that it could ‘translate’ into the medieval world and fit into a narrative that was created for it. ¹¹ It, thus, legitimised the cult through the invention of an object that was thought to have been there for hundreds of years and inscribed it into local history. ¹² It was, thus, a way to appropriate and invent a cult. Indeed many sarcophagi in Provence came to be associated with early saints.

In the twelfth century, a local legend based on a version of the saint’s vita (the BHL 5545) claimed that Saint Martha, believed to be Mary Magdalene’s sister, had lived in the Provençal city of Tarascon and slayed the local dragon, the Tarasque, that was threatening the people and later converted the city to Christianity. As a result of these achievements, Martha Daas argues that although she was a biblical saint, Martha’s medieval popularity stemmed more from her Gallic accomplishments than her role in the Gospel narrative. ¹³ In 1187, a Late Antique tomb was found in Tarascon and was assumed to belong to the saint. It became material proof of the legend and testified to the presence of her body in the city of Tarascon.

Other, similar, examples can be found from the region. Many of the sarcophagi in the crypt of the basilica of Saint Victor in Marseilles came to be associated with early martyrs that were ‘collected’ by the monks. ¹⁴ However, the best example to illustrate the connection between narrative, imagination and reuse is that of Mary Magdalene in the town of Saint-Maximin. The example of the Magdalene is of particular interest because, unlike the sarcophagi of Martha or those found in Saint Victor, Mary Magdalene’s tomb had been described in her vitae and thus offers rare insight concerning how texts can provide information about the way a reused object was perceived.

The Literary Source

The cult of Mary Magdalene in Southern France grew from a textual tradition. During the eleventh century, an early version of the vita or life of Mary emerged that described how the body of Mary Magdalene had been found in Provence in a tomb that depicted various episodes of the saint’s life and was brought to Vézelay to secure it from Muslim incursions that were ongoing in the region. ¹⁵ The narrative claimed that Mary Magdalene had been sent from the Holy Land on a boat with no sails that drifted to Provence, where she then lived out the rest of her life. Several versions of that story were then re-transcribed, with varying elements and protagonists. This textual tradition contributed to the prestige of the Burgundy abbey that could, thus, claim to have the relics of a biblical saint.

This story did not go unnoticed in Provence, and the Provençaux competed for claims to the rightful body of the Magdalene. In 1279, Charles II of Anjou led an excavation with the objective of finding the location of the tomb of the saint. He found not only what he believed was her sarcophagus but also the tombs of some of her companions. In one of them he claimed to have found her body, along with a note explaining that it had been moved to the sarcophagus of Sidonius that was nearby to protect it from Muslim attacks. So, in effect, the monks in Burgundy were thought to have the body of Sidonius. This was devastating for Vézelay whose cult lost its aura, especially after Pope Boniface VIII officially recognised the sarcophagus of Mary Magdalene in Provence.

The Angevins certainly had a vested interest in promoting the Provençal cults as they contributed to enhancing the prestige of the family that had arrived in Provence over three decades earlier but it is also quite possible that Charles held a particular admiration for Mary Magdalene. ¹⁶ It is clear that the house of Anjou adopted Mary Magdalene as a patron saint for both the territory and the dynasty. In fact, Katherine Jansen credits the Angevins with spreading the cult from its origins in France to Naples because it became the symbol of the ruling dynasty. ¹⁷ Hence, it is of little surprise that soon after the discovery of the tomb, Charles II of Anjou commissioned a basilica to enshrine the sarcophagus, thus turning a private mausoleum into a crypt at the centre of an important cult.

And yet, the iconography of the imagined tomb described in the vitae on which the cult was based did not correlate with that found in the mausoleum. In fact, the object itself dates from the fourth century, the last period of large-scale production of Roman sarcophagi, and was probably made in Rome and shipped to Gaul. Far from being unique, the iconography is fairly common for sarcophagi found in the region: The main scene that is now damaged was a triumphal cross flanked on each side by a sleeping soldier. Most of the scenes on the sides can still be distinguished; on the far left is the execution of Paul in which we can also see his executioner. Next to Paul is the scene where his arrest is being made. There are three men; the head of the man in the middle has been lost, and the other two are looking towards the left as if they were watching Paul’s fate. The scenes on the right represent scenes from the Passion of Christ: The scene on the extreme right is Pontius Pilate washing his hands, and next to it is an image in which Christ is standing between two guards. Nothing in the iconography that we see today would, thus, suggest that this tomb belonged to Mary Magdalene. Yet, the Late Antique sarcophagus came to be ‘read’ through the vitae. It is a rare case in which a text generated the interpretation for an object, that is to say, that the tomb was informed by a kind of ‘foreknowledge’ and was both a real object and an imagined object since an idea of the existence of the tomb of Mary Magdalene was created in a textual tradition before the sarcophagus was reinvented. This imagined sarcophagus was freighted with ideas and stories quite separate from its own literal object biography and cycle of reuse.

The vita that was at the origin of the legend and thought to have been written in Vézelay was the Vita apostolica (BHL 5443–5449) ¹⁸ dating from the eleventh century. It was the most frequently copied version and was considered an ideal material for preaching (materia praedicabilis), as it was used to vivify and deepen monks’ knowledge of the saint. It described the tomb vividly, as a ‘white marble sepulchre, including the outline of the saint at the Saviour’s feet in Simon’s house as she presented her homage of perfume to honour his shameless humanity for the tears that she shed among the guests’. ¹⁹ The author focused on the episode of the life of the saint at the house of Simon. Another vita that Victor Saxer names the Vita evangelico-apostolica (BHL 5450) was written at the end of the eleventh century and is a fusion between the Cluniac homily (BHL 5439) and the Vita apostolica-eremetica (BHL 5443–5449). This version describes a slightly different depiction of the iconography of the sarcophagus, noting that ‘the white marble sepulchre [was carved] with … sculptures showing Mary Magdalene at the Lord’s feet in Simon’s house receiving forgiveness for her sins as she offers the care that Christ needs due to his humanity, in view of her sepulchre’. ²⁰

Yet another vita attributed to Rabanus Maurus, archbishop in Mainz, ²¹ described the same tomb in a very similar way. The so-called Vita apostolica-eremitica (BHL 5443–5449) ²² was influenced by the Vita apostolica with the addition of details regarding her eremitic life. ²³ It is particularly interesting because it differs considerably from the original text in the description of the tomb. It not only includes the anointing scene but also adds a new iconographical element: the burial of Christ. As this version notes, ‘[h]ow Mary Magdalene hastened to Christ’s tomb, was the first to benefit from the manifestation of the Lord, was sent by Him to the apostles as an apostle and announced to them that He had ordered her, as can be seen on the bas-reliefs of the sepulchre.’ ²⁴ According to Saxer, the hagiographer relied on the Vita evangelico-apostalica and would have interpreted the description of the scene as being that of the morning of Easter, ²⁵ thus, in turn, creating a new iconography for the sarcophagus. Another explanation is that the hagiographer was inspired by the Narratio posterior (BHL 5491) itself taking elements from the chanson de geste known as Le Chanson de Girart de Roussillon. ²⁶ The Narratio posterior turns out to be of particular interest since it offers a description of the tomb that is extremely detailed. ²⁷

While most of these vitae probably originated from Burgundy, the legend started to evolve and reach a wider audience, notably when Jacobus of Voragine, an Italian chronicler and archbishop of Genoa, included it in his Golden Legend. Written around 1260, the Golden Legend became one of the most widely copied compilations of saints’ lives from the medieval period. ²⁸ Voragine included descriptions of the iconography of the tomb, although he simplified it by keeping only the essential descriptions. In his words, the Magdalene was buried in ‘a sepulchre in which the sculpture … illustrated the presence of the relics of Saint Mary Magdalene: the bas-reliefs represented the story of the saint’s life’. ²⁹ Perhaps drawing on this or a related tradition, Vincent de Beauvais, a friar attached to the Dominican house in Paris, mentioned the tomb in his Speculum Historiale, an encyclopaedic like text ordered by Louis IX, whose goal was to retrace the history of the world since its creation. He describes Magdalene’s tome in familiar terms, as ‘[a] white marble tomb … with sculptures representing the saint, who came from the Lord to Simon’s house offering the homage of her humility and perfume without any shame for her tears among the guests’. ³⁰

Hagiographers are, of course, not historians, and the edification and a taste for the marvellous were often sought in such texts. Authors sometimes deformed historical truths to fit a particular narrative. It was not uncommon for hagiographers to cite and copy certain texts, while at the time adding new elements to the story. This was what Michel Zimmermann calls an ‘écriture continuée’, that is both conservative and cumulative, as he puts it: ‘heritage can only be conceived from a perspective of prolongation and updating’. ³¹

In the case of Mary Magdalene, authors did not necessarily doubt the truth of the text, and the vita that seems to have included the first description of the sarcophagus, the Vita Apostolica, was probably written by monks at Vézelay hoping to justify how it was that they were in possession of the relics of the saint. In order to add credibility to the text, it is completely conceivable that they invented an iconography for the tomb of the saint. ³² As was not uncommon among hagiographers, they would sometimes ‘continue’ the story by adding various elements. When Jacobus of Voragine wrote his Golden Legend, it is probable that he did not actually visit each location himself but that he sought his information in various versions of life, including the Vita apostolica. ³³ But by doing so, he stitched a local legend into a wider historical narrative; hence, the story was already well accepted outside Burgundy before the tomb was discovered in Provence. Indeed, as Carlo Delcorno demonstrated, the Golden Legend provided material for preachers to compose their sermons. The infusion of Magdalenian lore into sermons helped to enliven them and provided the raw material for late medieval preachers’ conceptualisation of the Magdalene apostolate. ³⁴ It also served to connect Provence and France to the Holy Land.

Arguably, even if there was no actual tomb, the object had come to exist in the collective imagination. ³⁵ It is worth noting that this imagined iconography did have resonance with the iconography of Mary Magdalene that would have been common in the twelfth century. The saint at the feet of the Lord was frequently represented in Italian art. ³⁶ It is also visible in one of the lintels at the abbey church of Vézelay along with a depiction of Mary Magdalene with Christ and Simon. ³⁷

Descriptions of the Sarcophagus

Because the iconography was created before the tomb was found, and, as we have seen, the iconography of the tomb does not correspond to that described in the vitae, the question remains: How did pilgrims react to this disparity? It is reasonable to assume that pilgrims would have been well aware of these vitae, whether preached as homilies, part of sermons or in clerical explanations given at the shrine. How exactly did they, thus, ‘read’ the iconography of the actual tomb in comparison or conjunction with what was described in the narrative texts?

Sadly, we have few pilgrim testimonies. Our first account dates from 1316, some decades after the discovery of the tomb in 1279. The inquisitor Bernard Gui offers one example in an off-hand remark in his Flores Chronicorum. He simply stated that the sarcophagus was ‘historiated and sculpted’. ³⁸ Known for his erudition, it seems improbable that he would not have realised that the iconography described in the vitae was not the one found on the sarcophagus. It is, nevertheless, believed that he did not actually see the sarcophagus himself but simply ‘reported’ facts that were described to him. ³⁹ Victor Saxer thought that his informant was none other than Jean Gobi, one of the most illustrious priors of Saint-Maximin between 1304 and 1326. ⁴⁰ It is interesting to note that Gobi does not mention the iconography of the sarcophagus in his Miracles of Saint-Maximin, which contains 84 testimonies of miracles that took place around the tomb of the Magdalene in Provence. ⁴¹

Another account is that of Philippe Cabassole in his Libellus historialis, written 75 years after the sarcophagus was discovered. He notes that ‘among other stone monuments, a marble tomb was exhumed adjacent to the alabaster tomb, the perfume of which heralded the sacred content even before it could be seen’. ⁴² It is again unclear whether Cabassole saw the sarcophagus, but we do know that his text was an advocacy in favour of the Provençal pilgrimage, which is why Saxer only gave it limited interest. ⁴³ Sadly, no iconographical description was included, but he did mention a specific scent ‘announcing’ the sanctity of the tomb, which was a common element found in medieval hagiographic texts. He also mentions the alabaster tomb, as did Bernard Gui. He wrote that there were two tombs visible in the crypt, one of alabaster that presumably initially belonged to the saint and the other of marble in which the body of the saint was discovered in 1279. This testimony, thus, reinforces the theory that the body of the saint was moved into the sarcophagus of Saint Sidonius (the marble one) in 710 by Christians living nearby during Muslim attacks, thereby confirming the hypothesis that Vézelay had Sidonius’s body that they took by mistake.

In reality, neither sarcophagus in the crypt is made of alabaster. An alabaster box is described in the Bible when a woman, Mary (who later became Mary Magdalene in the Middle Ages), came towards Christ with a container filled with precious ointments to apply to him while he was sitting in the house of Simon. It is unclear what the link with the tomb in Saint-Maximin was, but it is not impossible that the fine marble on Mary Magdalene’s tomb was mistaken for alabaster. None of the vitae mentions alabaster so this appears to be a Provençal invention. Moreover, neither Cabassole nor Bernard Gui attempted to transcribe the exact iconography described in the vitae on the tomb. Pilgrims who visited the tomb in the next few centuries were also very evasive when it came to its description. Still, they pointed out ‘facts’ that could legitimise the cult. One important aspect was its age, which was a common criterion used for authenticating relics. ⁴⁴

We have no known testimonies from the fourteenth century, but we do have some accounts from the fifteenth century that offer additional information about the tomb. A German doctor, Jérôme Munzer, in his book Voyage en Provence in 1495, ⁴⁵ and Hans Von Waltheim ⁴⁶ in 1474, both describe their impressions of their travel to Provence. One of the objectives of their travel was to see the sites linked to Mary Magdalene. Both mention that they saw the tomb, but neither man describes it, leaving us with no iconographical detail. Hans Von Waltheim simply wrote, ‘[t]hus, the brother took us and showed us the sacred tombs of Mary Magdalene, Saint-Maximin and all the other dear saints mentioned above who are buried there.’ ⁴⁷ He does, however, mention a very interesting detail: He cut away a piece of sarcophagus to bring back home as a souvenir which explains why the central part of the sarcophagus is missing. Munzer is more laconic noting only that he saw the tomb of Maximin among other ‘famous things’. ⁴⁸

Other testimonies offer additional observations, such as an account by the friar Jérôme Durant, from the Order of the Minims, dating from 1586, in which he manifests a great devotion to the tomb and kissed it while prostrating himself but without giving any descriptive elements about the iconography. The pilgrims who wrote accounts were typically not sparing with details. For instance, Hans Von Waltheim described the relics of Mary Magdalene in some detail, noting that ‘Mary Magdalene’s skull was particularly wide with large orbits, and her teeth and blond hair were kept in another reliquary.’ ⁴⁹ Moreover, he also mentioned details about the story behind specific relics, explaining that a monk shared the story of how the body of Saint Anne came to be found in the city of Apt. The monks probably drew on various local legends. ⁵⁰ It is unclear, then, why no one chose to expand or comment on the sarcophagus, perhaps it was not deemed interesting enough to describe. Maybe it was not properly lit or pilgrims simply did not know its history and no monk found it relevant enough to share.

In these accounts, the iconography of the sarcophagus was not questioned or deemed particularly worth expanding on. Rather the legend, which took its roots in the vitae, became the accepted interpretation for the tomb. Knowledge of the stories influenced the way that the object was perceived. In this respect, it is what we may call a ‘scriptural’ pilgrimage, whereby pilgrims would see the topography and the objects of the landscape through the lens of the biblical narrative. As Jas Elsner and Joan Rubies have identified, two prominent examples of such pilgrimages include the Holy Land itself and the cult of Peter and Paul in Rome. In both contexts, the text, in the form of the Bible and its commentaries, justified the interpretation of the sites mentioned in it as being worth visiting and ‘the site provided material proof of the actual setting and context of any scriptural event’. ⁵¹

In Provence, the vitae tradition that developed for Mary Magdalene served a similar purpose as the scriptures did, in that stories of the saints were set in the specific topography of Provence; therefore, pilgrims came to see and experience the sites where saints had lived and died. This scriptural characteristic, shared between Provence and the Holy Land, established certain parallels in the pilgrimage experience at each destination. When pilgrims visited the Holy Land, they often went there with the objective of finding a history that they already knew and ignoring other aspects of the places that they were visiting. ⁵² In the case of the sarcophagus of Mary Magdalene, the text described how the sarcophagus was perceived and, arguably, a pilgrim’s knowledge of the legend prevented him from perceiving the sarcophagus in any other way than through a religious interpretation.