The
people of the Middle Ages often lived cheek by jowl with the
remains
of antiquity, and built directly on top of them (cf. the
number
of Storia della Città dedicated to Ferentino: 16/16,
1980).
Much antique material was always visible, in quantities
which
decreased from the Middle Ages onwards; yet even as late
as the
eighteenth century, much remained: B. Tauleri (1702, 25)
writes
of a locality at Atina, extra muros, called Sede de'
Cavalieri,
where `are to be seen the foundations of large
buildings,
with worked stones, very beautiful busts, and many
broken
inscriptions'. Much more became available during the
Middle
Ages, as the result of either deliberate searches, or
natural
causes. All kinds of antiquities were uncovered, but
sarcophagi
were particularly sought.
The
occupation and neglect of land, and the action of the
weather,
could all play a part in uncovering antiquities,
especially
in times of flood, and in areas where a complicated
cultivation
system had broken down. Floods could uncover whole
sites,
as Tauleri (1702, 191) records: `In the year 1614, heavy
rainfall
swelled our River Molinaro, which devastated many
fields,
and carried earth away with it. With the dry weather an
antique
building was discovered, in which there stood many
worked
stones, amongst them one in which two heads are sculpted,
one
male, the other female' (the stone described was probably a
double
funerary stele). Modena was also prone to such natural
actions,
which `have from time to time uncovered the deep-buried
ruins
of ancient Mutina', as Muratori relates (AIMA
2.179f.).
Soil movements could uncover antiquities more slowly,
but
still without human intervention - as in areas of central
Italy
bearing Mediterranean Brown Earth, where the Etruscans
developed
whole networks of underground drainage channels called
`cuniculi'.
Many of which still fulfil their purpose (Judson
1963),
but the consequence of neglecting them is soil erosion:
`every
time there is heavy rain (and much of the rainfall is
torrential)
large quantities of soil are washed off the
cultivated
slopes. Every year the plough bites a little deeper
into
the crests of the ridges and the soil is washed down,
building
up along the edges or plunging into the valleys below'
(Kahane
1968, 5). Not that the problem was restricted to Central
Italy:
the build-up of deep alluvial deposits in Mediterranean
river-valleys
during Late Antiquity (called the `Younger Fill')
caused
great changes in the profile of the landscape from Greece
to
Spain and from North Africa to Palestine - presumably when
classical
drainage systems collapsed, the land structure
collapsed
with them (Hodges 1983, 56ff.).
Surface
crop marks frequently drew attention the remains of
structures
underground: variations in the colouring, growth rate
or
survival of the crop indicate the plan of what lies
underneath.
Walls covered by soil can be seen because the
vegetation
on top of them, which receives less water than
surrounding
crops because there is less soil, parches quicker
and
takes on a colour which distinguishes it from that of
adjacent
plants. As easy to detect are areas where ditches have
been
made, such as burial mounds, because the ditch tends to
fill in
slowly with a soil which is lighter, sometimes more
silt-like,
and frequently richer in humus than adjacent areas.
All
this is common knowledge today, because we associate
crop-marks
with photographs taken from the air. However, such
differences
can easily be identified on the ground, as Agache
(1961,
230f.) found by asking countrymen in northern France: a
horse-drawn
plough goes more easily through such one-time
ditches;
they are favoured by burrowing animals; cereals grow
too
quickly over such areas, and tend to topple over - leaving a
crop
mark which continues even after scything, because such
areas
are more difficult to cut than a standing crop. That such
marks
were known and understood in the Middle Ages is clear from
the
names they received - such as Tombelles, Champ de Bataille,
or
Sépulchre (ibid., 235f.). Burial mounds - more serious
obstructions
to the farmer - were also recognised for what they
were:
the term `tomba' is used in northern Italy from the
thirteenth
century to mean a motte with a ditch; that is, a
fortified
place which, like a burial mound, could also be
artificial,
and have the same elements of mound and ditch
(Settia
1980, 38f.).
We can
also show that antique sites were readily available,
but can
usually prove no more than that they were looted for
materials.
Archaeological evidence tells us when robber trenches
or
later constructions cut through earlier monumental structures
or
necropoleis. One example is the paleochristian cemetery of S.
Victor
at Marseille which, to the western side, was built on to
first
by Romanesque constructions, and then by a rampart to
protect
the abbey; and above the early layer were others,
postdating
the tenth century, re-using antique stelai and slabs
cut
from the earlier monolithic sarcophagi (Benoit 1947, 11ff.).
Treasure
hunting was clearly widespread (cf. Higgitt 1973, 11
for
England), but there is also tangential evidence that antique
sites
were explored from intellectual curiosity rather than in
the
hunt for spolia: Oldoni (1977/80, 2, passim) believes that
Gerbert
of Aurillac (c. 945-1003, who took the tiara as
Sylvester
II) explored the `grottoes' of ancient Rome.
Descriptions
survive of `useless' finds, such as the
Chronicle
of Lambert of Ardres, who died in the early
thirteenth
century (Mortet 1911, 181; Harmand 1961, 9): he
writes
of a Gallo-Roman site in the Pas-de-Calais as `that place
where
even today are found remains of the pagans, that is red
tiles,
the tops of red vases, and fragments of glass flasks ...'
(ANRW
2.4, 168 for site bibliography). And even when the search
was for
good building stone, antiquities turned up in the
process
could receive admiration, as in the description of finds
of
`shapely and beautiful vases, cippi, dishes and other
vessels'
near Cologne in the Chronicle of S. Pierre at
Oudenbourgh
(Mortet 1911, 172).
One
early twelfth-century text suggests a good acquaintance
with
old tombs and their contents: Guilbert de Nogent tells of
the
discovery of a Gallo-Roman cemetery while building the Abbey
of
Nogent-sur-Coucy; but this `was not disposed as we arrange
tombs,
but in a circle ... and in them are found vases the use
of
which is unknown to Christian times; from which we can
believe
that these are either pagan, or from the earliest
Christian
times, but made in the pagan fashion' (Mortet 1911,
318 and
n. 3). Even if it would be wrong to assume great interest
in such
antiquities on Guilbert's part, his knowledge is not in
doubt:
this seems to be the only account before the fifteenth
century
of an attempt to date by grave goods and disposition.
Frederick
II's interest in antiquities is well known, and he
is
known to have payed large sums for them. In 1240, we even
find
him permitting a dig near Augusta, which was a new town,
founded
only in 1232, and near to the Greek city of Megara
Hyblaea.
Presumably scavenging expeditions among the ruins of
the
Greek site for building material for the new city occasioned
finds,
and permission was then given in the hope that riches
would
be found, no doubt by digging up one of the cemeteries:
the
permit was for `those parts of Augusta in which it is
confidently
hoped that great finds are to be made', which can
scarcely
refer to anything as banal as building stone
(Huillard-Bréholles
1852/61, 7, 825). Another document of
the
same year could also refer to antiquities, and imported ones
at
that, for it mentions `stone statues (`ymagines') brought in
the
galleys, and now in the castle at Naples', to be sent to
Lucera
(Sthamer 1912, doc. 38). Other documents record his
transportation
of two bronzes from Grottaferrata to Lucera, and
the
payment of great sums of money for an onyx cup and other
antiquities
(Weiss 1958, 147f.). It is arguable that Frederick's
castle-building
uncovered some antiquities for him, but
references
are late, sparse and obscure: what, for example, were
the
certa signa at Lucera (1273: Sthamer 1912, doc. 56),
or the
lapides taken from the ditch at Manfredonia in 1279
(ibid.,
doc. 456)?
The
veneration of the relics of saints and martyrs is very old,
and
dates from as early as the second century, when proximity of
the
dead to relics was seen as an aid to the soul (Sumption
1975,
ch. 2; and cf. 131; 153). As Saint Augustine puts it,
`that a
person is buried at the memorials of the Martyrs, this,
I
think, so far profits the departed, that while commending him
also to
the Martyr's patronage, the affection of supplication on
his
behalf is increased' (De Cura pro Mortuis, xxii; Duval
1982,
499ff.). By extension, the cult nourished a belief in the
help
and protection afforded to living believers who visited
such
cemeteries - hence their frequent magnificence (Braun 1924,
1.608ff.
for reliquary graves; ibid., 1.525ff. for altar
graves).
It was regularised only in 787 with the requirement of
the
Second Council of Nicaea that new churches should be
consecrated
with relics, and old churches be furnished with them
retrospectively
(Heinzelmann 1979 for good bibliog.; Duval 1982,
761ff.).
Indeed, we might say that the veneration of saints'
relics
goes in some way against Christian teaching on the
relative
unimportance of the decayed body; and, as Morris has it
(1983,
25, writing of Britain), `the physical characteristics of
Christian
burial were in the main acquired through a sieving out
of
pagan mortuary practices'.
Three
features associated with the cult of relics have a
bearing
on the survival of antiquities. The first is that
Christian
burial practices are frequently similar to pagan ones,
and
therefore make use of similar (and sometimes the same)
impedimenta:
there is no great difference between Christians
meeting
at the grave, with a sacrificial table for the burial
offering
(sometimes combined with a Eucharistic offering), and
the
pagan traditions of the memorial banquet at the grave of the
loved
one, for the environment and materials required are
similar.
The second that Christian burials are often to be found
in
pagan cemeteries, with the same result that antiquities are
preserved
for centuries. But the most important is that when
cemeteries
extra muros become disused, the translation of
relics
intra muros occasions a search for fine vessels
(often
antique) in which to house them: bones or their
containers
had to be visible - hence their housing in the most
beautiful
containers available, which were often antique urns,
altars
and cippi (Braun 1924, 1.118ff.) or sarcophagi (cf. Koch
1982,
41-58).
Cemeteries
were, indeed, a central feature of pagan as of
Christian
life, and ancient laws forbad the disturbing of the
dead,
as Saint Gregory himself was to make very clear (Jounel
1977,
101). Constantine did not destroy the cemetery under S.
Peter's,
but simply buried it so that he could build his
basilica
on top (thereby perhaps beginning a fashion); his
action
is interesting, particularly when compared with the
traditional
distaste for corpses shown in the actions of
Constantius'
workmen (probably, in fact, those of his father) in
clearing
a site before laying the foundations for a church.
According
to Procopius (Buildings 1.iv.21), `the workmen
dug up
the whole soil so that nothing unseemly should be left
there'
- in the course of which procedure the bodies of the
Apostles
Andrew, Luke and Timothy were found; it is therefore
certain
that a cemetery was cleared to make way for the church.
Given
that in this respect Christian and pagan were in
agreement,
it was logical that the Theodosian Code made no
distinction
between pagan and Christian tombs when imposing
heavy
fines on those who violated them (Cod. Th. 9.17.4,
of
346). There was, of course, a belief that continuing
contact
with the dead contaminated the living; for this reason,
burial
was traditionally outside the pomerium, a Greek and Roman
practice
continued by the Christians (ibid., 9.17.6, of 363).
For
much the same reason, the Code condemned the contamination
of the
living by the re-use of material from tombs (9.17.4 of
356),
although this did not stop anybody, including Christians,
from
admiring or taking over the often splendid forms of pagan
mausolea
and sarcophagi (e.g. Frederiksen 1957, 91).
From
the third century onwards, in both Italy and Gaul
(Weidemann
n.d., 224), some pagan necropoleis and their
successors
became the focus of martyr cults because, in the
first
centuries of our era, Christian graves were scattered here
and
there in largely pagan necropoleis (which is hardly
surprising,
given the frequent difficulties even today in
deciding
whether graveyards are indeed pagan or Christian: cf.
Morris
1983, 53ff., and especially tables 5 and 6). Gradually, the
prestige
of the martyr-graves made them the focus for other
Christian
burials, while visits from pilgrims provided money for
the
erection of more or less magnificent shrines. What is more,
Christian
graves were often grouped in `areae', surrounded by
walls,
and therefore distinguished from the pagan tombs around;
such
areae provided some measure of protection in later
centuries.
These arrangements can still be seen at the Aliscamps
at
Arles, where some of the tombs are very tightly packed
(Benoît
1952); excavations at the suburb of Trinquetaille, and
around
S. Pierre at Narbonne showed a similar pattern (Benoît
1938,
354). Later, some martyr graves were to become the centres
for
embryonic mediaeval towns (Ennen 1956, 400ff.). In other
cases,
churches were founded extra muros, and over antique
cemeteries
- as at Bazas, where the convent of the Cordeliers
and S.
Martial are so placed (Lot 1953, 278).
The
abandonment of the necropoleis extra muros and the
translation
of the relics of saints and martyrs inside the
cities
was an important step in the survival of sarcophagi. The
most
popular collections of holy bones was at Rome, and most of what
we know
about the upkeep of martyr-graves and their subsequent
abandonment
comes from that city. Here the cemeteries (which
accounted
for much of her mediaeval eminence: Reekmans 1968,
174)
were visited by pilgrims from the fourth to the eighth
centuries,
as tourist guides make clear. Two factors occasioned
the
move. The first was pressure of events: frequent earthquakes
which
devastated structures, and Barbarian invasions which
pillaged
them (cf. Dulaey 1977). The second was a change in
religious
ideas: Dyggve (1952, 150, 155) dates from the fifth
century
the decision to make a grave compulsory for the holy
altar,
and therefore to introduce the altar-grave, and the
`characteristic
overcrowding with corpses' into urban churches.
Those
clerics such as Vigilantius who ranted against people who
appeared
to worship dead bodies and relics, calling them
`gatherers
of ashes' (ibid., 157), were fighting a losing
battle,
as can be seen from the popularity of carrying relics
about
the person in small boxes (an example in HF 8.15),
and
placing them in Christian burials both in Britain and on the
Continent
(Meaney 1981, 184ff.).
We need
not dwell on the efforts of the papacy to restore the
cemeteries,
or on the structures frequently built over them
since
the time of Constantine (Reekmans 1968, 176ff.), except to
mention
the mausolea which pious Christians built in the
Christian
cemeteries, as near as they could get to the bones of
saints
and martyrs; some of these survive, such as those above
the
Cemetery of Praetextatus (ibid., 188). One structure in
Milan,
the complex of S. Lorenzo, may have combined the
functions
of martyrium and imperial mausoleum (Mirabella Roberti
1963).
To counteract depradation, important cemeteries were
sometimes
fortified, such as that on the site of S. Vittore in
Milan:
a cemetery from the first century, a mausoleum was later
erected,
perhaps for Maximian, and then protected by a castrum.
The
former, later to be known as the Capella di San Gregorio,
survived
into the sixteenth century, and some parts of the
castrum
were still visible three centuries later (Mirabella
Roberti
1967).
The
practice of translation, for which rich receptacles were
usually
required, appears to have begun in the East, and adopted
in the
West by S. Ambrose. It had spread to Gaul by the
mid-fifth
century, when S. Martin of Tours was moved from one
tomb to
another within his newly constructed basilica (McCulloh
1980,
313). There are other isolated examples in the centuries
following
the fifth century (for example those carried out by
Theodore
and Paul I in the seventh and eighth centuries), but
the
policy was confused, alternating between restoration and
translation
(Krautheimer 1980, 112f.; 345). The trigger for
wholesale
translation was perhaps Honorius I (627-38) movement
of the
remains of S. Pancratius to the crypt of his rebuilt
basilica
(McCulloh 1980, 321). Papal policy
therefore changed
from
the supply of mere `contact' relics (usually pieces of
cloth
placed for a time near the holy bodies, and thereby, it
was
believed, absorbing some of their sanctity) to the supply of
the
actual bones all over Europe. And by Carolingian times, as
Hubert
remarks (1982, 258), the practice sometimes `degenerated
into
collective madness': it is Pascal I, and Damasus, who,
above
all, `merit the title of cultor martyrum' (Jounel 1977,
99).
Rome,
then, was probably driven to take this new step by the
thirst
for relics (McCulloh 1980, 322), rather than taking a
spiritual
lead. Certainly, intra-mural burial seems to have been
practised
much earlier elsewhere (Février 1974, 126ff.). In
Gaul,
for example, its prohibition was apparently taken rather
lightly:
the Council of Nantes in 658, in permitting burial in
the
atrium or outside a church, but not in the church itself,
was
presumably bowing before a practice already popular (Boube
1955,
100f; see also Lesne 1936, 123ff.). Dyggve, in an
admirably
clear account (1952, 152-3), points out the liturgical
advantages
which extra-mural burial had over that in urban
churches:
for whereas the former could have as many altar-graves
as
there were martyrs or relics, the latter were allowed only
one
altar - a prohibition beginning to be evaded in the fourth
century
with the building of memorial chapels. The higher
revenue
extra muros, derived from pilgrims, had allowed the
construction
of sumptuous basilicas, which frequently made use
of
pagan spoils in their construction.
Furthermore,
the early cathedrals were often outside the walls
of
cities (cf. Violante 1966, for Italy) and, as martyr shrines,
helped
protect antiquities. Sometimes their names
proclaim this
function,
as at the early sixth-century foundation of
Saint-Vincent-de-Xaintes
(i.e. de Sanctis) just to the south
west of
the wall of Dax, in the Landes, which was probably built
on the
site of a villa. This was probably the cathedral until
its
transfer intra muros c. 1055, and its precinct has
yielded
many sarcophagi dating from the High Middle Ages
(Cabanot
1972, 3f.). Throughout Europe, indeed, it is not
unusual
to find the majority of pre-twelfth century churches
outside
the enceinte: at Senlis, to take one example, only two
out of
six are inside it.
Sarcophagi
are among the most spectacular and durable of
antiquities,
and may have inspired artists in the Middle Ages as
much as
they were to do in the Renaissance and later (e.g.
Adhémar
1939, 159ff.; Fusco 1979; Koch 1982, 627ff.; Andreae
1983);
they wre preserved for their decorative qualities, sometimes
giving
`naming' streets (e.g. at Rome: Via del Orso; Via Bocca
di
Leone) as well as for reburial. These prestigious objects
were
not only exported from Rome to distant parts of the Empire,
but
also made in some of the various provinces as well (Koch
1982,
266-311 - but none were made in Britannia), and they were
prized
by later centuries as a very symbol of Romanitas: it was
in
large measure their re-use which ensured their survival.
Sepulchral
altars also survived in large numbers, but could be
used
only as holy-water stoups; only infrequently did they
receive
the honour of imitation before the Renaissance (Williams
1941;
and cf. Greenhalgh 1982, 125).
In a
sense, the Church blessed the practices of plundering
cemeteries
and re-using sarcophagi and urns when it stipulated
that
relics (usually bones) were an essential part of any altar
(Hamann-Maclean
1949-50, 167), for it thereby formalised the
continuing
use of such vessels, pagan and Christian, as altar
tables.
This meant that there was an inevitable tendency to
rifle
Christian cemeteries for their relics (and sometimes
riches,
as the Crusaders did on the Fourth Crusade in
Constantinople:
Grierson 1962, n. 4), and both Christian and
pagan
cemeteries for their sarcophagi. Thus, when a vessel was
needed
for the relics of St Etheldreda, one was sought in
Cambridge,
surely in a Roman cemetery (Plummer 1896, 245): we
are
told that they looked `near the city walls', so they clearly
knew
where the cemeteries were normally located. Nor did they
really
hope to find a vessel: their search was for blocks of
stone
from which to piece together a sarcophagus - and the find
was due
to a miracle. Finer vessels were available in
Italy:
in 872 Pope Hadrian II gave relics of S. Clemente to the
church
of S. Clemente, at Torre dei Passeri
(Pescara);
these are now in a figured strigillate sarcophagus,
used as
an altar, and this arrangement could date either from
this
period or from the refurbishing of the years following 1176.
That
plundering was indeed a problem can be seen from the
formulation
of rules to regulate re-use - which could mean
multiple
burial, or evicting older bones: the Lex Salica
forbad
burial in a sarcophagus already occupied (a notion which
had a
long life); Henry III issued a decree forbidding multiple
burial
in a certain tomb at Bamberg in 1054 (MGH Dip. Reg.
Imp.
Germ. 5.440); and the Council of Macon in 585 had
already
ruled against re-use before decomposition (James 1977,
163).
Here again, perhaps saints led the way: witness the
discovery
of the bones of no less than the Three Magi outside
the
walls of Milan in the time of Frederick I (L-B no. 2248);
the
discovery of relics of two saints in a marble sarcophagus at
Verdun
in the early eleventh century (ibid., no. 2049); the four
martyrs
interred in San Giovanni Calabita, near Ostia, c.
890; or
the two in San Fausino at Brescia - both groups in
re-worked
sarcophagi (Pisa 1982, nos. 85 and 137). Multiple
occupation
was also popular with noble families, as with the
laying
of several members of the Savelli family in the fine
sarcophagus
in S.M. in Aracoeli (Agosti 1983, 7), or the
re-working
of a sarcophagus in 1097 for the remains of Azzo II
d'Este
and Cunegond of Bavaria (Pisa 1982, no. 59; Rebecchi
1984,
330f.). Such prestigious vessels were therefore used as
family
`vaults,' and the family continued to be the key to the
usage
of tombs, as can be seen by a Salernitan document of 1094
concerning
the tomb of the Gisolfus family, to go in the atrium
of the
church. They reserved full rights over the monument,
including
cleaning out old bones and installing new bodies, and
restoring
the tomb itself (AIMA 1.573B). Indeed, it may
usually
have been the family itself which regulated re-use -
witness
the frequent demand that the family owning the tomb be
consulted,
as in the sixth-century conciliar documents urging
intending
violators merely to seek the permission of the `domini
sepulchrorum'
(Young 1975, 75f.). Again, the emphasis on the
duties
of the family in matters of burial was no more than a
continuation
of Roman practice, where the burial or cremation of
a body
was the business of the relatives, and any sacrifices to
be made
would be by the family to family gods. The Church, in
Young's
opinion, simply refused to organise the domain of burial
customs,
intervening `only where it is obliged to correct some
abuse
that threatens to encumber its authority'. He places the
earliest
church pronouncement on funerary customs at 785/6, and
that
simply names incineration and tumuli as pagan (Young 1977,
6). The
confusion of multiple occupancy is well illustrated by a
sarcophagus
with the bones of a member of the Cocceia family,
and so
inscribed, under the altar table in the chapel of S.
Silvestro
in S. Columbano at Bobbio. Presumably the monks
thought
the bones were those of a saint: did they simply throw
out the
lay bones and replace them with saint's bones, omitting
to
change the inscription or, equally likely, prizing the
decoration
so greatly that they left the inscription alone?
When
did the vogue begin? Christians were as culture-conscious
as
pagans, and large numbers of Early Christian sarcophagi
survive
to illustrate the point. Both pagan and Christian
vessels
are found in re-use, with the pagan ones more
sought-after
because they are both more numerous and of higher
quality.
Indeed sarcophagi, like other pagan spolia except
statues,
were simply too valuable and prestigious to be avoided
simply
because they were pagan. Given the interchange of
practices
between pagans and Christians, it is therefore
impossible
to date exactly the beginning of the fashion for
Christian
burial in sarcophagi. At Arles, one early dated
specimen
is that of Bishop Concordius (died 380), whose
sarcophagus,
with inscription, was preserved until the
Revolution
in the crypt of Saint-Honorat and is now in the
Museum
of Christian Art (Benoît 1947, 10). Christian re-use
of
pagan vessels is perhaps almost contemporary with the
manufacture
of new and Christian ones: thus S. Hilaire (d. 449)
was
probably buried in a pagan sarcophagus with the Legend of
Prometheus,
of the late third century, which went to the Louvre
in 1822
(Benoît 1954, no. 99). Rebecchi (1978, 269) believes
that,
in Italy, the practice began in the fourth century,
suggesting
as reasons not only general economic collapse but
also
the destruction of `pietas', so perhaps the same causes had
the
same results in Gaul. We have seen that laws were
promulgated
to prevent too hasty a re-use, presumably because
the
practice was frequent. Gregory of Tours tells of one
particularly
gruesome case: a priest at Clermont rightly defied
his
bishop and, for his pains, was thrown into a great
sarcophagus
of Parian marble in the crypt of S. Cassius Martyr
there;
by the grace of God, he was able to move the great lid,
and
escape from the vessel and its mouldering body (HF
4.12).
As had
always been the case, burial in a sarcophagus was the
preserve
of important people, the definition of which the
Christians
extended to Princes of the Church (Fohlen 1948,
185f.)
and saints (Gaul supposedly has no less than thirty
sarcophagi
containing their bones: James 1977, 34), as well as
the new
Holy Roman Emperors and the various aristocracies
(examples
in Esch 1969, 49f. and n. 185; list of Roman examples
in
Agosti 1983, 4). Indeed, the best vessels went to the most
important
people, as when the porphyry sarcophagus of
an
Emperor (perhaps Gratian, died 382), was set by Bishop
Angilbert
(824-859) in Sant' Ambrogio to house the relics of
Gervase,
Protase and Ambrose (Pisa 1982, no. 139); similarly the
French
kings from the Carolingian period onwards used pagan
vessels
when possible (Erlande-Brandenburg 1975, 39f.). For S.
Augustine's
remains, Dodwell (1982, 125ff.) suggests that an
antique
vessel was imported to England from Gaul. When the
vessel
was of porphyry, the transmission of Imperial power
either
to the Popes or, in some instances, to the Praefectus
Urbi,
was reason enough for re-use (cf. Agosti 1983, 5f.; and
Pisa
1982, no. 86).
The
practice was well established by the seventh century, and
perhaps
had never died - although the problems of dating make
this a
difficult matter to resolve, as in a dispute over
whether
sarcophagi which house some bishops who died in the
seventh
century are contemporaneous or re-used (James 1977,
33f.).
Two sarcophagi at Ancona, and nearby Osimo, appear to
have
held a saint's bones - the one produced for the purpose in
the
fifth century, the other already in re-use in the sixth
(Pisa
1982, nos 212 and 213). Such growing popularity is later
reflected
in the frequency with which scenes of burial in
manuscripts
and frescoes feature antique sarcophagi, often
strigillate
(cf. Bloch 1946, figs 229-31), as well as in
seventh-
and eighth-century imitations of antique vessels
(Vieillard-Troikouroff
1961, 266 and n. 35). There was certainly
nothing
unusual in the practice by the ninth century, when the
supposed
remains of S. James were found already reposing in a
white
marble sarcophagus near the present-day Compostella -
presumably
in a pagan burial ground.
No
distinction seems to have been made between Christian and
pagan
vessels, for both received the accolade of imitation and
re-use
- as with the `Merovingian' and `Paleo-Christian' vessels
made in
the twelfth century (Vieillard-Troikouroff 1961). The
ancient
interdictions against disturbing the dead applied to
sarcophagi,
and although there are no accounts of Christians
violating
cemeteries in their outrage at paganism there is, as
we have
seen, plentiful evidence that they were disturbed for
their
sarcophagi. Even Gregory of Tours, a hammer of the pagans
if ever
there was one, writes with appreciation of several
sarcophagi
of Parian marble (Knoegel 1936, nos 302, 303, 320,
323),
including a whole collection which he says was in the west
mausoleum
of S. Vénérand at Clermont (Gloria Confess.
34);
these are now lost, but the one which he says contained
the
remains of S. Ludre is still at Déols, and is
third-century
pagan (Vieillard-Troikouroff 1976, 407). Again,
the
comment that the Parian sarcophagus of Saint Felix, of
Bourges,
had a lid in a different material proclaims that the
vessel
itself was an old one in re-use (Ward-Perkins 1960, 29).
In
Italy also, re-use begins early: at Modena, old sarcophagi
are
already being re-cut and re-used in the fourth century
(Rebecchi
1984, 321); at the Abbey of Ferentillo, the Longobards
preserved
no less than five vessels - `the most notable nucleus
of
figured Roman sarcophagi in Umbria' (Pietrangeli 1952). It is
not
known where they came from, but if the tradition is correct
which
makes one the tomb of Feroald II (died 732; cf. Pisa 1982,
no. 6)
then the collection may well be a conspicuously early one
-
antedating a comparable one at Farfa. Comparisons between the
stucco
figures at Cividale and antique sculpture at Aquileia
(Beutler
1982, 202ff.) might suggest that Longobard knowledge of
ancient
sites was not rare.
But a
socially wider re-use of sarcophagi, at least in Italy,
appears
to date from the later eleventh century, perhaps
reflecting
the greater availability of vessels as a result of
population
expansion over old cemeteries; in Rome, the vogue for
such
inhumation reached its height in the twelfth century
(Agosti
1983, 6); at Pisa, Rebecchi (1984, 330) suggests 1119 as
the
date of the first display of a re-used sarcophagus at the
Duomo,
but the fashion begins in earnest in the later thirteenth
century
(Parra 1983, 477ff.). For two Modenese vessels, for
example,
we have fourteenth century evidence that they were
indeed
found `while digging the ditches of the upper suburb'
(Pisa
1982, no. 117); for others, the evidence is tangential: at
Acerenza
(Potenza), two front panels (Pisa 1982, no. 187) are
incorporated
in the campanile, together with funerary stelai,
which
suggests the discovery of a necropolis. In Spain, Serafin
Moralejo
has noted at Gerona that sarcophagi were re-used at the
very
time that the walls were being built (turn of the twelfth /
thirteenth
century: Pisa 1982, nos 168 and 170); and that the
existence
of no less than eight must indicate the discovery of a
necropolis.
He draws the same conclusion from the incorporation
of
inscriptions and stele in San Pedro de Arlanza (Burgos),
where
sarcophagi were also re-used (ibid., docs 184 and 185), and
for the
vessel in San Pedro el Vejo, Huesca (ibid., doc. 183).
The
vogue for marble sarcophagi was as
strong in England as on
the
Continent, which it perhaps tended to ape: references to
saints
and martyrs buried in marble are therefore not rare. At
Canterbury,
Archbishop Theobald (died 1161) was laid in a
sarcophagus
(L-B England, no. 819; cf. no. 683), and S. Thomas
had a
`new' vessel (ibid., no. 768), while his shrine was also
rich in
marble (ibid., no. 792). At S. Albans, the tomb of the
eponymous
saint was `marble with marble columns' (ibid., no.
3952).
The sarcophagus of Sebbi, King of the East Saxons (died
692/4)
was too small, but Bede tells us that a miracle enlarged
it to
fit (Plummer 1896, 366-8).
Even
for the powerful, however, some types of vessel soon
became
scarce: if, as Deér has convincingly suggested (1959,
154ff.),
the Normans followed a papal vogue when they had
themselves
laid in porphyry tombs, they presumably sought
antique
vessels, but in vain. Having access to Rome for the
material
itself (ibid., 117ff.), they had to make up new tombs,
some of
which were monolithic, and probably from part-shafts of
large
columns; that of Roger II, however, is made of
uncompromisingly
plain slabs, the effect of which is mitigated
only by
the richness of the canopy. If porphyry was scarce, were
other
rare marbles equally so? Could it be that the terracotta
columns
now in the museum at Grottaferrata were indeed a
substitute
for rare and valued marbles - for porphyry and verde
antico?
And frequently, contemporary vessels ape antique
practice,
as with some of those of Bolognese professors (Grandi
1980,
178).
The
following account discusses the conditions under which
antique
sarcophagi were displayed, and hence made available to
the
Middle Ages; the ways in which shortages occurred; and what
was
done to mitigate them.
As
during Antiquity, the Middle Ages displayed sarcophagi
above
ground: some were decorated, others sometimes had their
own
decorated cenotaph above them, the most famous instance
being
the those at Jouarre (Périn 1982); and the parallels
between
martyr graves with sarcophagi or caskets displayed for
veneration
and the decorated sarcophagus-like cenotaphs of the
wealthy
is clear. Indeed, a sarcophagus in the open air could
still
be the focus for the Mass in the later Middle Ages, with
the
altar laid out on its lid, if one thirteenth-century account
of the
deeds of Honorat (Bédier 1914, 408f.) at the tomb of
Vezianus
in the Alyscamps reflects contemporary practice.
Vessels
with decoration only on the lids were sometimes buried
in the
ground so that only the lids were visible, and plain or
nearly
plain vessels might be either buried, or displayed in the
open
air; decorated sarcophagi, however, were made to be
displayed
above ground, often in mausolea, for the admiration of
the
living (cf. Rebecchi 1978, 269ff.). This can clearly be seen
from
the design of most funerary structures, the very shape of
which
required sarcophagi as the focus of attention: and there
is some
continuity between the design of pagan mausolea and that
of
Christian basilicas (particularly with regard to annular
corridors:
Winfeld-Hansen 1965). Thus the ritual
circumambulation
practised in Greek and Roman religious
observances
regarding the dead finds its continuation in the
crowd-management
designs of the great pilgrimage basilicas. The
focus
of attention remains relics, often housed in spoliated
vessels
displayed either in corridor crypts (on that built by
Gregory
the Great for S. Peter's, and on later developments, cf.
Horn
1979, 1.196ff.), or in the main body of the church which,
by the
ninth century, might have as many as thirty altars, all
with
relics of some kind (ibid., 1.208ff.). Sometimes, indeed,
as in
the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, the sarcophagi were even
tailored
to the setting (De Francovich 1958/9, 19f.); elsewhere
at
Ravenna, the concern for display is clear for, of the forty
sarcophagi
visible today or traceable to that city, no less than
sixteen
are carved on all four sides (Lawrence 1945, 1). They
were
therefore likely to be available to the Middle Ages, who
naturally
followed the same practice, as at Jouarre, mentioned
above
(Elbern 1971). Even when they had become buried, their
whereabouts
were frequently well known, if we may judge from the
evidence
of place-names (Cameron 1977, 118) or later imitations
(Vieillard-Troikouroff
1961).
In Gaul
as in Italy, sarcophagi were displayed from Early
Christian
times, and were often kept in funerary crypts and
hypogea,
all extra muros, as we learn from Gregory of
Tours
(Vieillard-Troikouroff 1976, 394). In the Merovingian
period,
thanks no doubt to the growing importance of the cult of
relics,
sarcophagi and their revered contents rose to greater
prominence,
being frequently transferred into the choir of a
church,
sometimes specially built to house it (ibid., 395f.). A
roughly
contemporary translation occurred in Italy. Sarcophagi
were
also pressed into use as altar tables and/or altar frontals
- very
suitable considering the origins of the Christian altar.
The
so-called Tomb of S. Hilaire in the church at S. Hilaire
(Aude;
cf. Caviness 1973, 216ff.), a twelfth-century pastiche of
the
manner of those late antique sarcophagi to be seen in Provence,
was so
used. In S. Trophîme, Arles, three altars are graced
with
sarcophagi, including a Traditio Legis in the apse chapel,
and a
superb specimen with the Crossing of the Red Sea in the
north
transept. All three appear to be only front panels, but
the Red
Sea sarcophagus is enhanced by being set on a fine base,
which
is surely antique. Such usage was probably common, and is
also
found in Italy, for example in San Giovanni al Mare, Gaeta
(Pisa
1982, no. 194). Such placings are probably contemporary
with
the construction of the church, given parallel
installations
of the same period - such as that at Bourg
Saint-Andéol,
where the whole sarcophagus is used under the
altar
table. In other instances, the top of the sarcophagus
serves
as the altar table (Fohlen 1948, 188f.).
Presumably
such vessels were looted from the cemeteries where
they
had been displayed. One such is at Martres Tolosanes, near
Toulouse,
where excavations in a paleochristian cemetery (which
might
have been in use as early as the late fourth century:
Boube
1955, 1957) have revealed the practice of displaying
marble
sarcophagi both in the atrium of the basilica and in
funerary
chapels, as well as in the open air. Some were highly
decorated
but others plain; and some were arranged so that only
their
decorated lids were visible above ground. It is ironical
that
other undecorated specimens, which were indeed buried, have
survived
to our own day intact, whereas the excavators collected
only a
mass of fragments (estimated as belonging to five or six
vessels)
remaining from those which were on display - `the
inevitable
victims', as Ward-Perkins writes (1960, 32), `of the
cupidity
and the iconoclasm of later generations.' Those in the
nave of
the basilica were indeed buried, probably as much in
response
to the ban on burial within churches as to facilitate
circulation
within the building. This practice was clearly
popular,
because it was allowed in the atrium (Boube 1955,
100f.):
here were found the richest tombs, in marble, and no
doubt
once protected by ciboria and railings. To the south and
west of
the basilica were arranged mausolea, their walls and
floors
veneered with marble, and with undecorated sarcophagi
protected
under slabs of marble; far from being fourth-century
structures
like the basilica itself, these were arranged hither
and
thither in various rooms of the antecedant Roman villa.
Similar
arguments have been adduced to suggest the display of at
least
the lids of sarcophagi elsewhere; in some open-air
locations,
erosion could have produced the same result (P[ac]
erin
1982, nn. 12, 14), but the church porch was a more popular
display
area. This was the case at Saint-Victor, Marseille
(Demains
d'Archimbaud 1971, 97f.); in the funerary basilica of
Saint-Seurin
at Bordeaux, which dates perhaps from the late
sixth
century onwards; and in the Abbey of Saint-Victor in
Marseilles,
where the lay-out post-dates the mid-eleventh
century
(i.e. following the Benedictine re-occupation of the
site),
and includes one Christianised (if perhaps not originally
Christian)
strigillate example, surely exhumed from the
paleochristian
necropoleis on the site (Demians d'Archimbaud
1972,
22f.). Martres Tolosanes was therefore by no means unique.
So
famous were cemeteries where sarcophagi were displayed that
legends
collected around them - not surprisingly, when one
considers
that interest in antique splendour displayed by
mediaeval
authors called upon to describe the tombs of heroes
(Faral
1967, 325ff.). Dante mentions the Alyscamps at Arles,
alongside
that of Pola, in his Inferno (9.112-16; cf.
Bracco
1965, 284-5), and the former features in several
mediaeval
epics as the place where Roland, Oliver, and other
remnants
of that famous rearguard repose - in antique sarcophagi
(Bédier
1914, 394ff.; Moisan 1981, 139ff.; nor was its fame
restricted
to epics in French: Geith 1977). Many sarcophagi were
above
ground there: one tale (in a thirteenth-century Life:
Bédier
1914, 406ff.) tells how Bishop Honorat of Arles was
left in
peace in the Alyscamps when his companions sat up in
their
sarcophagi and told the monks who had come to possess the
body to
leave it where it was. Even in the later Middle Ages,
sarcophagus
lids were sometimes still visible: the romance of
Girart
de Roussillon (lines 4269-71) records that the
sarcophagi
at Quarré-les-Tombes were arranged in two
superimposed
layers (cf. Louis 1982, 1.149), perhaps indicating
that
the upper vessels were cenotaphs not tombs - although the
poet
says that the buried sarcophagi were also `very beautiful'.
Another
site which features in the same romance has sarcophagi
of
different dates piled on one another (Delahaye 1982, 818):
perhaps,
then, we may imagine the lower sarcophagi as having
their
sides buried and their roofs displayed, as was perhaps the
case at
Martres Tolosanes - and the late superposition (which
may
have been widely practised: Périn 1982) as the result of
the
popularity of the burial place.
Such
unfinished vessels, imported rough-dressed from the
quarries
with the design simply blocked out, were perhaps not
particularly
prized, because of the work required to recut them.
When
reworked, however, it can be difficult to guess their
original
state, as with two sarcophagi in S. Apollinare in
Classe,
Ravenna, of Archbishop Grazioso (died 788; Zucchini
1968,
No. 61), and of Giovanni VII, probably of 784 (Zucchini
1968,
No. 60): the former is recut from two sarcophagi in
different
marbles, one for the vessel, the other for the lid;
the
second from only one (Rossi 1974, 36ff.). In both cases, the
antique
work has been almost entirely obliterated in favour of
the
new, perhaps indicating either confidence on the part of the
mediaeval
craftsmen, or vessels which were never finished. Thus
De
Francovich asserts that unfinished sarcophagi were readily
available
in the earlier Middle Ages, citing that of S. Aquilino
in S.
Lorenzo, Milan (1959, 129 and fig. 100), and maintaining
that
this is third-century work with all the architectural
detailing
finished - but the ground left rough until its
completion
in the early eighth century. On the other hand,
perhaps
Ravenna is an exception, for it has been argued that new
sarcophagi
(such as that in S. Vittore: ibid., 1958/9, 140f.)
were
being produced there until the earlier ninth century.
Equally,
we find paleochristian sarcophagi `updated' by the
simple
addition of an inscription, such as that of Archbishop
Theodore
in S. Apollinare in Classe, re-used at the end of the
seventh
century (Zucchini 1968, No. 24), or that taken by the
Traversari
family from 1225, of the late fifth century (ibid.,
No.
26).
Sometimes
paleochristian sarcophagi, like their pagan
counterparts,
were partially recut, presumably to improve their
appearance.
This is the case with the now fragmentary vessel for
the
bones of S. Guilhem, at Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert, of
which
three sides are early in date, but the fourth presents a
stylish
pastiche of early work. The saint had occupied the
sarcophagus
from the ninth century, and it seems likely that the
recarving
(and perhaps the retouching of the faces on all four
sides)
was done during the growth of his cult in the twelfth
century,
perhaps after 1138 when the church was dedicated to
him,
and at a time when the site was recommended for pilgrims on
the way
to Santiago; certainly, carving on four sides makes it
clear
that the sarcophagus was to be viewed and venerated from
all
directions (Caviness 1973, 213ff.). Again, the reverse of a
palaeochristian
vessel with the dextrarum iunctio was decorated
to form
the tomb of Urban VI in 1309 (Agosti 1983, 7f., for
other
examples). Such recutting seems to have been a matter of
fashion,
as with the pilastri acritani, or the Lion Hunt
sarcophagus
of Costanza in Palermo (Vaccaro Melucci 1966, cat.
17).
Very occasionally it is impossible to say whether a work is
antique
or not, as in those of Henry and Roger at Palermo (died
1172
and 1161: Giuliano 1980, 21f.). Indeed, evidence from
fourteenth-century
Naples suggests not only that vessels were
plentiful
there but that, if their new inhabitants were
prestigious,
their decoration could be expendable. Thus the tomb
of
Marino (?) Piscicelli (died 1327) is presumably a classical
piece,
cut back and recarved on one face (Bridges 1956, 167f.,
pl.
23c); that of Riccardo Piscicelli (died 1331) is more
explicitly
`anti-conservation' in that the main face of the
vessel,
a third-century Seasons sarcophagus with portrait
medallion,
was designed to be hidden against a wall, while the
other
three sides were re-cut in shallow relief (ibid., 168f.,
pl.
23a, b); the composite Filomarino tomb, of 1335, does the
same
with a Dionysiac (?) sarcophagus, and adds another partly
re-cut
sarcophagus frontal to the scheme (ibid., 169ff.).
Of
course, those with influence could send abroad for a
vessel:
thus the famous Proserpina sarcophagus in Aachen may
well
have been imported by Charlemagne (Beutler 1982, 65ff.).
Other
had to make do with imitations: according to a suggestion
by
Erlande-Brandenburg (1975, 179), for example, the receptacle
for
Carloman (died 771), showing a combat between a man and a
lion,
was an imitation antique rather than the genuine object.
And
there were much less elegant solutions. The Merovingian
vogue
for plaster sarcophagi (especially in the Ile-de-France)
is
perhaps one reflection of the shortage, but make-and-mend was
the
usual reaction. In the Alyscamps at Arles are two local
sarcophagi
which can be dated to the very end of the fourth
century,
made, like most, of Carrara marble; they have been
built
up painstakingly out of re-used fragments, unequal in size
and
often in colour, and then clamped together. They are not
hastily
put together, nor of poor craftsmanship, and from the
careful
work which went into them we can deduce that marble was
in very
short supply - so short that it was sometimes impossible
to
match even fragments (Benoît 1952, 123-4, and fig. 4). A
parallel
can be seen in the tomb of a Germanic `military chief'
at
Vermand (Aisne) of c. 400, which shows the introduction
of
Roman fashions presumably because he served in their army:
his
sarcophagus is made up of slabs from a dismantled funerary
monument
(Paris 1981, 173ff.). That such practices were
long-lived
can be judged from sarcophagi nearly at ground level
in the
Alyscamps, which can be dated from coins to the
thirteenth
and fourteenth century (Benoît 1947, 10); these are
frequently
simple cases of re-use, but sometimes they are cut
from
monolithic receptacles into a set of slabs which could then
be
joined together carpentry-fashion. Thus, even at one of the
most
popular and populous of all cemeteries, there were
shortages
- although these must have been eased by the
eleventh-century
rebuilding work, which dug right into the
earliest
(fourth century) layers of tombs, which were then
reused;
the same must have happened when a Carolingian building
was
placed on the site, as is clear from fragments of Carrara
marble
sarcophagi incorporated in the wall of the Carolingian
`area'
(Benoît 1952, 119, 123 and fig. 2).
Marble
penury was widespread in Gaul, as excavations at Alba
in the
Ardèche have shown (Esquieu 1975). This was an
important
pagan site, but has a superimposed paleochristian
level,
and finally the twelfth-century church of S. Pierre on
top.
Several of the paleochristian sarcophagi are from re-used
stone
(ibid., 9-10): one employs cannellated stone, another
includes
a nine-line inscription relating to the corporation of
ancient
Alba, and a third incorporates two blocks decorated with
fasces
from the entablature of the same civic monument. The lids
are
even more fragmentary than the vessels: those too short are
made up
with bricks, or stones, or with two slabs of different
size
and thickness; one example even has a column shaft lying
over
the cover - evidently employed as a stele or grave-marker.
Dating
of such finds is difficult because of the absence of
either
grave-goods or money, but the excavators suggest the
fifth
or sixth century. Similar works are common in the museums
of
France - such as the sarcophagus at Châteauroux built up
from an
early Imperial architectural frieze with eagles, or that
in
Nîmes with griffons (Hamann-Maclean 1949-50, 166, fig. 6).
Such a
desire to use Roman antiquities whatever the cost in
time or
labour is shown particularly well by an item at Langres
(Musée
S. Didier, no. 192): this began life as a pedimented
aedicule
with a full-length figure or figures, but the figures
were
hacked out at some unknown date to make a roomy tomb.
Clearly,
sarcophagi were of continuing use, but old funerary
sculptures
were of no use whatever. Inscriptions were also
re-cycled
by re-cutting the verso - witness the late
ninth-century
epitaph of Boson, king of Burgundy, in Vienne,
which
was re-cut for another client in 1216 (Deschamps 1929,
56f.);
more crudely, stones of half-round section, originally
used
for capping walls, were taken over as sarcophagus lids
(Sauter
1971, 169).
The
re-use of fragments in Provence and Aquitaine still occurs
in the
later Middle Ages, but only occasionally, and then
perhaps
for special reasons: for example, the `Arduinus'
sarcophagus
at Saint-Victor, Marseille, of the eleventh century,
is
still a patchwork confection - an example of marble shortage,
of
transportation difficulties, or of both; although the
likelihood
that the original vessel came from Rome could
indicate
that it was specially prized, and therefore patched to
preserve
it (Demains d'Archimbaud 1971, 98ff.). At Martres
Tolosanes,
on the other hand, the fragments were used in building,
because
the site was so rich in complete vessels. This was
probably
site of the private cemetery of a rich family of
Gallo-Roman
aristocracy, or so it is inferred from the high
quality
of some of its sarcophagi (Boube 1957, 37); it may have
been
abandoned by the sixth century, for it is distant from
populous
urban centres, having formed part of the great villa of
Chiragan.
As we have seen, many of its sarcophagi were displayed
above
ground and, at some unknown period, were broken into
fragments:
when the monks of S. Sernin, Toulouse, occupied the
area at
the beginning of the eleventh century, they used these
fragments,
now catalogued by Boube (1957) in building a new apse
to the
basilica; and `blocks of marble, flat and decorated, were
used to
level the ground outside, to fill in the funerary
chambers,
and to feed the four lime kilns found, in the course
of the
dig, in the ground of the present church' (ibid., 38).
Complete
sarcophagi from the same range of centuries survive at
Martres,
and were re-used in the Middle Ages. It could be that
they
were found during the eleventh century building work,
having
somehow been buried, and thus escaped the destruction
visited
upon their fellows. We have evidence suggesting that the
monks
were uninterested in sarcophagus fragments and
particularly
prized complete ones: for details have survived of
an
early thirteenth-century lawsuit in which the Prior of
Martres
was accused of misappropriating two sarcophagi (Boube
1955,
108).
Italy
possessed more high quality sarcophagi than Gaul, but not
enough
to satisfy the demand, which required their transport
from
various parts of the peninsula to the newly prosperous
locations
(Giuliano 1980, 20f.). Made-up vessels (except for
lids)
are rare, one exception being the supposedly early
ninth-century
tomb of Bishop Sabino in the cathedral of Canosa,
which
includes a sheet with imbrications for the front, and
fifth-
or sixth-century transennae for the rear panel (Chiancone
1981).
Pre-Romanesque imitations of antique vessels (such as the
Nereid
panel on the facade of Calvi Cathedra: Belting 1969, 50,
54f.)
are also rare, suggesting that the demand was satisfied by
the available
originals. In Italy as in Gaul, it is likely that
many of
the sarcophagi which were re-used had never been buried,
but
were available in atria or mausolea; we might imagine Duke
Theodore
of Naples (died 729) finding his Dionysiac sarcophagus
(with
the central female bust!) in a tomb in the area, as it has
been
suggested that the workmanship is local (de Franciscis
1977).
Another characteristic of Italy is the re-use of urns,
one
example from many being the figured Etruscan urn used for a
saint's
bones in S. Biagio della Valle, a dependancy of S.
Pietro,
Perugia (Leccisotti 1956, 1.60, n. 4).
If, in
Gaul, the re-use of pieces of marble might suggest a
veneration
for the material itself, rather than for its
associations,
this is presumably not the case in Italy, for even
those
cities like Genoa and Pisa which were near marble quarries
were
concerned to import antique sarcophagi even in those
centuries
when the quarries were in production. The Pisans
certainly
got some of their inscriptions from Ostia, and it is
likely
that some of their sarcophagi came from the same place;
Bozzo
(1967, 12ff.) believes that the same conclusion must be
drawn
for Genoa, for which there are plentiful records of trade
with
Rome in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, even if none
detailing
sarcophagi. The urns and sarcophagi of Amalfi are a
matter
of some dispute, but Manacorda (1979) is confident that
the
distribution of such vessels on the peninsula, reflecting as
it does
the largest limits of the Amalfitan State (his fig. 1,
p.334),
must indicate that they were brought in by the Republic,
rather
than in Antiquity - which, he acknowledges, is no more
than
Mommsen wrote in the last century (CIL 10.61).
The
vogue for re-using decorated sarcophagi ended when they
became
collectors' items (although there are some examples of
re-use
in the twentieth century); this was the case by the early
sixteenth
century in Italy, and a little later in France. Plain
stone
chests were not for collecting, they were re-used time
and
again, and there are examples in Poitou as late as the
seventeenth
century (James 1977, 69). Supplies of decorated
sarcophagi
kept coming to light as a result of successive waves
of
population expansion. Thus the continuing fertility of the
Alyscamps
at Arles is confirmed by the account of the visit of
Catherine
de' Medici and Charles IX in 1564, when they chose
several
of the best specimens and eight porphyry columns from
the
church of Notre Dame de la Major (built on the line of the
ancient
walls and on the site of a temple, or so it is
believed).
All was loaded on to a boat, which then sank (Constans
1921,
368f.). Such permission to remove sarcophagi was special,
for as
early as 1518 the commune had forbidden strangers to take
material
from the Alyscamps without the consent of the consuls
(ibid.,
loc. cit.). Even as late as 1806, Napoleon ordered
columns
of marble and granite to be taken from the traditional
site of
the `Temple of Diana' (on the heights by the
amphitheatre)
to decorate the Louvre (Benoît 1951, 34).
By such
transfers, the stocks of sarcophagi were taken out
of
circulation into museums. But much has also been completely
lost,
especially since the Renaissance, as can be seen by
comparing
descriptions with survivals. Ravenna (perhaps a
traditional
plundering place, from the later Empire to the
Malatesta)
is a case in point: we know of forty Ravennate
sarcophagi
from descriptions alone - for the works themselves
have
vanished. Indeed, the Mausoleum of Bracciaforte, demolished
in the
seventeenth century, is known to have contained thirty
sarcophagi
(Lawrence 1939, 31): although a few survive (e.g.
Zucchini
1968, Nos. 11, 26), the great majority of these have
been lost
since then - that is, during centuries which
supposedly
treasured the relics of antiquity. Similarly, of the
great
series of Imperial sarcophagi in Constantinople, and first
listed
in the tenth century, only four vessels and a few
fragments
survive (Grierson 1962).