Inscribing moral communities in late-antique Burgundy: old values, multivalent meanings, and new avenues of research
p. 59-70
Résumés
The textual content of late-antique Gallic inscriptions has often been overlooked in favour of their ‘factual’ content. This chapter argues for the benefits of studying these epitaphs as texts, with visual and literary strategies. To do so, it focuses on one aspect: moral language.
First, it addresses the use of formula books in late-antique Gallic epigraphy. It argues that, while evidence for their existence is limited, patterns in the distribution of moral epithets suggest an actively maintained set of standards. This indicates the importance of the correct moral language, rather than apathy and illiteracy.
Second, it considers how the same moral value, caritas, was positioned differently on different epitaphs to emphasise different valences. By altering the material and syntactic placement of the word, and by using different cognates, inscribers used communal values to tell different stories.
Le contenu textuel des inscriptions de la Gaule de l’Antiquité tardive a souvent été négligé à la faveur de leur contenu « factuel ». Ce chapitre présente les avantages de l’étude de ces épitaphes en tant que textes utilisant des stratégies visuelles et littéraires. À cet effet, il met l’accent sur un aspect de ces textes en particulier : le langage moral.
Premièrement, l’utilisation de recueils de formules types dans l’épigraphie de Gaule romaine de l’Antiquité tardive est abordée. Tandis que les preuves pour leur existence sont limitées, des modèles dans la distribution des épithètes moraux laissent supposer la présence d’un recueil de formules types activement entretenu. Cela indique l’importance d’un langage moral correct plutôt qu’une passivité et un illettrisme.
Deuxièmement, la façon dont la même valeur morale, caritas, a été positionnée différemment sur différentes épitaphes est examinée afin de souligner l’importance de valences différentes. En changeant l’emplacement physique et syntaxique du mot et en utilisant des mots apparentés, les auteurs des inscriptions ont utilisé des valeurs communes afin de raconter des histoires différentes.
Entrées d’index
Mots-clés : Antiquité tardive, Bas Empire romain, période mérovingienne, royaume de Bourgogne, épitaphe, épigraphie funéraire, inscription funéraire, vertu
Keywords : Late Antiquity, Late Roman Empire, Merovingian period, Kingdom of Burgundy, Burgundy, Epitaph, funerary epigraphy, funerary inscription, virtue
Texte intégral
Introduction
1Scholars have frequently noted the decline of funerary epigraphy in late-antique Gaul, and have proposed various theories to explain it, but less attention has been paid to changes in the texts that were inscribed. In consequence, the text on these epitaphs is often treated as repetitive or a pragmatically ‘factual’ ancillary to other mortuary evidence, while additional communicative and narrative strategies are ignored (Treffort 2017: 197). It is only recently that the tendency towards brevity in medieval inscribed texts has been reappraised as a potential communication strategy, rather than symptomatic of material or literate decline (Ingrand-Varenne 2013: 213-234). As a result, scholars working on late-antique Gaul have generally failed to consider how epigraphic textual strategies were intertwined with material strategies, or the complex messages these techniques permitted. In this chapter, I focus on one common feature of late-antique epigraphic texts that merits further research in light of these new approaches: the values ascribed to the defunct.
2The suggestion that the values inscribed on epitaphs changed between the fourth and seventh centuries is not new. Françoise Descombes noted the existence of shifts in moral language in 1985. However, she approached the question as an editor and, for her, the value of identifying these transformations lay in their use in helping to date otherwise undated epitaphs. (Descombes 1985: 199-201). Paul Reynolds similarly observed the existence of shifts in moral language, but he noted it would require a thesis of its own. (Reynolds 2000: 292). The benefits of such an analysis can also be seen from the work of Jean-François Berthet, Bruno Pagnon and Henri Desaye, who conducted a similar analysis of the epithets found on earlier Roman epitaphs from the Rhône Valley (Berthet, Pagnon 1989: 43-57; Desaye 1989: 59-69). An analysis of changing epigraphic moral values in late-antique Gaul is, nonetheless, still overdue.
3One reason for this delay has been the argument that the language of late-antique Gallic epitaphs is formulaic and was not understood by its inscribers or recipients. A primary proponent of this argument has been Mark Handley, who suggested that the use of formula books not only obviated any need to understand texts but even led to situations where the inscribed text was simply wrong. (Handley 2003: 26; Handley 2000a: 54). According to this line of thinking, the precise epithets mentioned are, in many ways, irrelevant because their existence was purely symbolic.
4My contribution will therefore address two principal points. First, we will consider how the use of formula books can inform studies of inscribed language in late-antique Gaul. Second, we will take the example of transformations in the use of ‘caritas’ to analyse how textual and material strategies were combined to create epitaphs that used the same language to convey different and nuanced positions in society. Before we begin, it is useful to briefly review the case study that we will use in this chapter, Burgundy.
1. Epigraphic cultures of late-antique Burgundy
5The region of South-Eastern Gaul that fell under Burgundian rule in Late Antiquity offers a useful case study for this chapter as we possess over 500 epitaphs from the fourth to seventh centuries – of which around 60% are sufficiently legible for textual analysis. It is unclear to what extent the Burgundian regime’s power ever reflected or created cohesive cultural unity in the region (Favrod 1997: 471-84; Steiner 2003: 65-74; Wood 2018: 275-288; Wagner, Brocard 2018: 11-18). Nonetheless, the area under Burgundian control in AD 517, at the Council of Epaone offers a useful boundary for this study that facilitates easy comparison with other material and textual sources.
6The vast majority of these epigraphic texts were not discovered in situ and so, like other scholars, I make the assumption that they were mostly designed to be visible, but we cannot state this definitively in most cases. (Treffort, Uberti 2010: 2000). Still, although we will treat these texts as legible, that does not mean they occupied the same space, or that their placement can be reconstructed: at Sion, similar inscriptions could be erected vertically or horizontally. (Steiner 2019: 249-55). The only recent site where the placement of epitaphs can be firmly located, and seems to be consistent, is a church in Lyon, where late-sixth- and early seventh-century epitaphs were laid into the floor, above the heads of the deceased: nonetheless, the site was damaged and it’s possible we would have seen other arrangements if the transept had remained intact (Reynaud 1998: 169, 220).
7While Katalin Escher recently revived the argument that epigraphic practice in the region was limited to Romans, or Romanised barbarians, the use of dual names in the region render this conclusion tendentious and the following chapter will avoid drawing any ethnic conclusions. (Escher 2018: 34; Haubrichs 2018: 59-74). Clearer is that epigraphic practice was, by this period in Gaul, mostly limited to epitaphs and had become the preserve of moneyed classes: the practices and communities that we will discuss in this chapter are only useful for understanding wider practices insofar as we consider that other populations aspired to emulate or copy their values. (Heidrich 1968: 167-183; Heinzelmann 1976: 49-59; Epp 2015: 62). These shifts from the classical world are not distinct to Gaul, suggesting that wider trends continued to influence epigraphic practice, even after the political collapse of Roman rule. (Gauthier 2015: 213-4; Santiago Fernández 2011: 366). Thus, although the following chapter will focus on one small region, some of the points it raises may be transferable to epigraphic practices in other late-antique regions.
8Nonetheless, scholars have highlighted the existence of local epigraphic trends in late-antique Burgundy, on civic and provincial levels. The inscriptions of Merovingian Lyon display a considerable number of marital values and list the time spent married, a feature we don’t find elsewhere in Burgundy or Gaul (Soulet 1990: 139-146; Berthet, Pagnon 1989: 55). On a larger scale, the opening phrase used to begin the epitaph and the closing phrase used to date the death it commemorates both seem to differ between the ecclesiastical provinces of Lyon, Vienne and Arles: whether political or ecclesiastical boundaries was more important in these differences is unclear (Reynolds 2000: 170-194; Handley 2000b: 83-102). Even if broader cultural shifts encouraged a focus on epitaphs and limited their commissioners to individuals with significant capital, that did not stop people from adapting the practice to demarcate local cultural boundaries nor invalidate the interest in analysing local case studies, like this one.
2. Formula books and formulaic values
9In 1890, Edmond Le Blant suggested that some of the Merovingian inscriptions from South-Eastern Gaul were designed with the help of handbooks or model books. Through a comparison of similar strings of moral epithets found in sixth- and seventh-century epitaphs from Briord, Viennensis, he identified mistakes in metre and confusion between the singular and plural, and argued that these errors could be explained if the authors made recourse to the same model book (Le Blant 1890: 70-73). The thrust of Le Blant’s argument relied on the assumption that Merovingian authors wanted to create classical metrical texts, rather than a rhythmic text that lay somewhere between verse and prose: given the plethora of what he considers mistakes, this appears a disputable contention. Nonetheless, his general suggestion that handbooks exist remains widely accepted.
10The argument that Gallic inscribers were highly reliant on handbooks was recently taken forward by Mark Handley, who argued that he had found evidence for one such book in a Carolingian manuscript, Ms. BNF Lat. 2832 (Handley 2000a: 48-56). Handley argued that, while the Carolingian compiler had different objectives, the inclusion of a set of sixth-century Burgundian inscriptions attests to a distinct late-antique collection from this region (Handley 2000a: 51-2). Bernhard Bischoff previously argued that he had found a Carolingian handbook, so this would not be the first early-medieval epigraphic handbook. (Bischoff 1984: 50-53). However, given the differences between Carolingian and Late-Antique practices, and collections for repetition rather than devotion, it would be exceptional to possess earlier evidence.
11In all cases, Handley’s sylloge, if it indeed was a formula book, does not seem to be what Le Blant had envisaged. The metrical, primarily episcopal, inscriptions conserved in BNF Lat. 2832 are all unique in form and content, with cryptic references to offices held and relationships maintained. Their only use as a handbook would be for someone who needed to write a metrical inscription for a member of the senatorial and episcopal elite: a rather small subset of epigraphic business, even smaller if we remember that poets like Sidonius Apollinaris and Venantius Fortunatus became experts in this field and took long-distance commissions. Similarities do, occasionally occur (Descombes 1985: 414) but even these could have equally arisen from viewing or reading the original. Thus, the text for late-antique metrical epitaphs like those found in this Carolingian compilation was likely bespoke and produced separately from the channels through which regular epitaphs were designed. The reasons for the Burgundian docket of epitaphs in BNF Lat. 2832 merits attention elsewhere but, contrary to Handley’s claims, it is not evidence for the commonplace handbooks that underpin his arguments.
12More significantly, as studies of other forms of Merovingian written culture have shown, engagement with a formula book cannot be taken as proof of illiteracy, nor can every collection of texts be conceived of as a formula book: Handley’s closest comparative example, the Austrasian letters, seem to have been collected for other reasons (Handley 2000a: 55; Barrett, Woudhuysen 2016: 6-17). The need to frequently reproduce texts is often an indicator of a society that was frequently engaged in literary culture. Moreover, studies of modern epigraphy suggest that errors are most frequently made in regularly-used formulae because they are written and copied hastily (D’Encarnação 2019: 115-27). A point in favour of this argument is the effort with which Handley argues the palaeography of epitaphs was fitted to the basilica (Handley 2003: 27-28). In such an environment, it seems unsurprising if the text was also designed to fit the venue, rather than because there was a lack of local literacy.
13Further evidence can be found by studying the language of the epigraphic texts that Handley dismisses. The texts that inspired his ire, are primarily the long lists of values attributed to the deceased from Briord: the same texts that first interested Le Blant. These texts are therefore a useful starting point to think about epigraphic values and their repetition. For the sake of brevity, we will focus here on two examples of delineation: age-related and gendered.
14The burial of young people is differentiated from that of older people in various societies, but the lines on which those differences are drawn can still be renegotiated. We see that in the moral epithets given to deceased children on the epitaphs from our region. Aside from one undatable fragment, uses of the classical term dulcissimus/a, which had been the common term used for children in the second and third centuries, vanished from this usage in Burgundy in Late Antiquity, with our last example from AD 422 in Lyon.408.1 In its place a new set of terminology emerged in the fifth century: innox and its cognates. Nonetheless, these new terms were not direct parallels or replacements. Dulcissimus/a was a term used primarily to describe wives and children, with a preference for sons. Although children from the Roman Rhône valley were grouped together by this value, they were also grouped with their mothers as people whose value derived from their appeal to their legal guardian or pater familias. Other terms existed that could separate women from children, notably carissima and its cognates, but there was no distinct value for children in earlier epitaphs. In comparison, innox and its cognates were applied solely to children in late-antique Burgundy, with one rare outlier at 222. Moreover, following the introduction of this value, children generally ceased to be commemorated for other moral values. Workshops that designed the text for epitaphs in Burgundy thus shared an understanding that values of innocence were to be attributed only to children. Moreover, the continuity of this pattern until the end of this study in the seventh century suggests that the custom was actively understood and maintained rather than a fossilised trend.
15This hypothesis is strengthened by considering the re-emergence of dulcissimus, the value that had once described Roman children, in sixth- and seventh-century Briord to describe a 55-year-old man (RICG XV 264), a 48-year-old man (RICG XV 265) and a 25-year-old woman (RICG XV 266) and a married couple (RICG XV 269.) All of these commemorands are adults and, given that we see innox attested at the same site for children, it seems that the revived, seventh-century form of dulcissimus was now used exclusively to refer to adults and does not reflect confusion but rather the repurposing of an older word to conceptualise different relationships. Indeed, we can find comparative examples in local literature. Ruricius of Limoges used this term to refer to his own adult family and spiritual children. (Hummer 2018: 162.) Gregory of Tours regularly presents the term in conversations between adult parents and children, and he used the term to describe his spiritual brother, Aridius (Rosenwein 2006: 110-12). Rather than a poor misapprehension of a copybook, it seems that dulcissimus had been reintegrated into the epigraphic language of Burgundy during the Merovingian period with its contemporary meaning, as an epithet that now described adult bonds of (spiritual) kinship.
16The gendered use of epithets can be seen by considering the application of the common seventh-century expression “amicus omnibus”, which is used exclusively to commend adult men, most of whom are middle-aged or older3. This could not have been mindlessly copied, or it would have ended up on female epitaphs.4 Meanwhile, “omnibus cara” is exclusive to women; the only example of a man being dear is to his civitas.4 Again, this situation mirrors what we find in contemporary texts, where friendship is generally the preserve of men and charity that of wives (Nelson 1999: 1285; MacNamara, Halborg, Whatley 1992: 7; Réal 2001: 267-8.)
17There are thus two problems with dismissing the values inscribed on epitaphs on the basis of their potential derivation from formula books. First, the very existence of late-antique Gallic formula books – although unproven – might equally attest to an active, literate epigraphic culture in which authors sought to maintain the same style and uphold social boundaries, rather than to widespread illiteracy. Grammatical differences or difficulties do not preclude comprehension of the topic, as anyone who has tried to write in a new language can confirm. Second, even inscribed texts that are considered to be derived from handbooks nonetheless only attribute specific values to specific social groups, indicating that if people did use books, they did not copy blindly but rather selected the appropriate words for the defunct in question.
18Rather than weakening our study, the use of handbooks may instead provide a firmer basis on which we can draw conclusions. If we accept that the content of inscriptions was intentionally formulaic and even derived from shared handbooks then we can draw firmer conclusions on the basis of less extent evidence. Moreover, this explanation does not erase the commissioner either: Lisa Bailey suggests, people are unlikely to have commissioned a text with which they totally disagreed. (Bailey 2016: 16-7). Whether or not she is correct, it seems unlikely anyone would have commissioned a text that they did not think would be received positively in contemporary society.
3. Negotiating complex identifications
19Guaranteeing the positive reception of an epitaph is not an unimportant concern. While grave goods could be disinterred, their primary message was likely directed at those present when the inhumation took place. Whatever messages were conveyed through the ceremony and its material components, these could be remembered and retold later, as descendants began to remember the relative that they wish that they had had. In contrast, the above-ground, fixed presence of epitaphs created a different set of problems for a late-antique society in flux: the need to create a past that justified an envisioned future, while also remembering someone so that they could remain a paragon of virtue to future generations if other avenues prevailed.
20To explore this, the following section will consider the manners in which five epitaphs from late-antique Gaul use the same value of caritas. By using a qualitative approach, we can consider how the placement of text on different lines, and the juxtaposition of different elements through the choice of syntax affect the message of the text, even where the same epithets or values are deployed.
21It is, however, useful to begin with a fourth-century inscription, even if it uses dilectissima rather than carissima, because it shows the format in which carissima had been used in the first to third centuries AD in the region. Were we to redate many borderline inscriptions that have been characterised as pagan, we would likely find caritas used in this format in the fourth century, as the epithet carissima, used to describe a woman who was dear to her husband. (cf. Heijmans 2000: 87-95.) Moreover, even if current divisions of modern epigraphic corpora may create a world where the pagan and Christian Gallic epitaphs do not co-exist, epitaphs like this one remain barely distinguishable: the earliest Christian epitaphs did not impose spiritual meanings on epithets.
Sofroniae, dilectissimae
coniugi, Fl(auius) Vrsicinus maritus,
cum quo uixit annis
V, mens(es) VII, dies IIII, posuit
in Χρο, quiescenti in pace.389
Tr: For Sofronia, a most beloved wife resting in peace, Flavius Ursicinus, the husband with whom she lived 5 years, 7 months and 4 days, raised [this epitaph] in Christ.
CIL XIII.2428; Reynolds 387.
22By the mid-fifth century, though, spousal inscriptions became rare and Christian terminology entered the main text of the inscription. The latter was still couched in the reuse and appropriation of traditional terminology, and we should not consider these trends oppositional. A good example is the epitaph for Sofroniola, dated to mid-fifth-century Vienne.
Castitas, fides, caritas,
pietas, obsequium
et quaecumque Deus
faeminis inesse
praecepit, his ornata
bonis Sofroniola
in pace quiescit.
Martinianus,
iugalis eius, titulum
ex more dicabit.
Obiit octaum idus iunias.
RICG XV.72.
Tr: Fidelity, Love, Duty, Deference and all that God ordained in women, Sofroniola rests in peace, decorated with these qualities. Martinianus, her husband, dedicated this epitaph in accordance with custom. She died on the 8th day before the Ides of June.
23Due to the references to castitas and caritas, Paul Reynolds singled this inscription out as typical of the new, Christian, late-antique ideal (Reynolds 2000: 292). This differed significantly from the earlier analysis by Françoise Descombes, who argues that the vocabulary of this inscription does not differ significantly from the, presumably, pagan inscriptions of the third and fourth centuries (Descombes 1985: 325). Unfortunately, neither has addressed these conflicting assertions further or more thoroughly, and only Descombes provided an explanation for her assessment. She argued that there is no clear Christian valence except for the addition of the reference to God, and that the virtues list is ambiguous: pietas and obsequium could refer to divine service and duty, or service and duty to the woman’s husband, Martinianus, and that the text leaves this open to interpretation.
24However, as the layout suggests, the inscriber made distinct efforts not to divide words across the line, as was commonly the case in the third- and fourth-century lists of virtue. This effort to segregate virtues by line was not solely artistic, and I suggest it can help us to discern a directed reading of the list of qualities. Castitas, fides, and caritas are grouped together on the first line, forming a trinity of marital virtues that is visually bookended by the visual similarity between castitas and caritas. On the second line, pietas and obsequium are grouped, and these values are situated closest to God (Deus), with obsequium placed above the word in direct vertical alignment. This visual orientation helps us to resolve the role of obsequium: while this was occasionally used as a marital virtue in Roman Lyon (one inscription even lists obsequium maritale), it was mostly used to describe the relationship between masters and slaves, or patrons and freedmen. (Maclean 2018: 37-8). It was never a common epithet – this inscription is our last attestation of it in Burgundy – and MacLean associates its rare Roman use on inscriptions with marriages between freedwomen and their former owners (Maclean 2018: 41): if Sofroniola was not a former slave, as demographics of late-antique commemoration would suggest, then this visual separation may also have served to avoid an unwanted comparison between willing enslavement to the divine, as opposed to unwilling enslavement to a man.
25The oblique reference to other virtues that God may require or encourage is mirrored in two fifth-century epitaphs from Anse in Lugdunensis for deceased young women, which note that God granted the deceased many good qualities: God functions here to endorse and bestow traditional virtues, not to impose a new moral order.5 These formulations are near-unique to the fifth century – there is one similar example from the sixth century but this epitaph, as we will see, is directly written to mirror that of Sofroniola. Yet more suggestive is the gendered nature of this phrasing in prose inscriptions: all commemorands who receive it are women. In stark comparison with the contemporaneous episcopal inscription for Hilarius of Arles, which confidently lists his virtue and stride into heaven (Guyon 1989: 151), these examples suggest a parallel and gendered deference towards God; heightened in the case of Sofroniola by the implied juxtaposition with her husband, who can judge that she fits God’s requirements. Through this phrasing, the division between divine and human relationships is reinforced but presented as complementary, not oppositional.
In Χρι /no/mene, in huc loc[o requiescunt]
in pace fedelis famu[lus Dei Ampeliu]-
s et Singenia, qui uixer[unt in coniu]-
gali, adfectu et carita[te]
annis circiter LX, aut a[nnos eosdem cont]-
inuos in pace Dominica p[erman]-
serunt: quorum uita talis f[uit ut lin]-
quens coniux maritum XX a[nnos ]
excedens in castitate perpetua]
perduraret.
Obiet uenerabilis memoriae Ampe[lius]
sub die XVI k(a)l(endas) decembris, Fisto et
Marciano con(sulibus.)
Transiet bone recordationis Si[ngenia]
sub die III k(a)l(endas) ianuarias, <p>(ost) c(onsulatum) Viat[oris],
(cross) In Χρι nomine.
CIL XII.1724/ Reynolds 40.
Tr: In Christ’s name, Ampelius, slave of God, and Singenia rest in this place in faithful peace.* They lived about 60 years with love and marital affection, whereby/whereof they lived [???] years in the Lord’s peace. Such was their life, that the wife, outliving her husband by 20 years, endured in unbroken chastity. Ampelius of venerable memory died sixteen days before the kalends of December, during the consulship of Fistus and Marcianus. Singenia, of worthy recollection, passed away three days before the kalends of January, after the consulate of Viator. [Erected] in the name of Christ.
*Or, Ampelius, faithful slave of God; Or, the slaves of God Ampelius and Singenia rest….
26Caritas here is the manner through which Singenia and Ampelius lived out their forty-year marriage. Its juxtaposition and combination with adfectus supports the reading of caritas in the sense of mutual marital esteem and affection that was common in earlier Roman epitaphs, even if the combination of terms suggests that caritas may have an additional, spiritual valence here. The use of the form “caritas” rather than the older carissimus and carissima matches what we saw in the inscription for Sofroniola, supporting the suggestion that fifth-century commemorators attempted to resituate this traditional virtue to focus on the act of love rather than the value of having merited it.
27The emphasis on time spent together in the peace of God leads to the impression that the couple were either baptised during their marriage or that their marriage was conceived as a union formed in the presence of God. While Reynolds approaches this text through the former interpretation, I see no reason to even reconstruct eosdem here, especially as this would be unusually complex grammar for a prose inscription (Reynolds 2000: 326). The strongest evidence against this reading, however, is the lack of suitable parallels. While we have other examples from classical Lyonnaise inscriptions that list the length of marriage, we have none that list the duration of baptismal life, let alone as a function of marriage. However, we do have evidence for the commencement of marriage as a dedication of shared life to God in the Gallic Carmen Ad Uxorem, a fifth-century Gallo-Roman poem written in the structure of a traditional epithalamium – the verse typically pronounced at Roman and late-antique wedding ceremonies. In the translation of Roberto Chiappiniello we read “Come now, I pray, faithful partner of my affairs, our anxious and brief life let us consecrate to the Lord God” (Age iam, precor, mearum/comes inremota rerum/trepidam brevemque vitam/Domino Deo dicemus; Chiappiniello 2007: 115-138). While linguistic parallels are limited, this epitaph and the Carmen Ad Uxorem both associate marriage with a joint profession to, and for, God.
[hi]c requiescit in pace bone memoriae Eufemia, Deo
[sa]crata, omni gracia spiritale ornata: quae
[pr]ima est caritas c[la]ra uirgini[t]as piaetas.
[?X]XXIII suae anno, morte per[d]idit et uita<m>
[in]uinit, quia suaum uite autore dilexit in
[t]eris, cum ipso iunta est in caelo: obiit in Χρ/ο/:
resurrictura in <g>loria: depo(sitio) k(a)l(endas) [ianua]ri(as) ?[februa]ri(as)
RICG XV.112.
Tr: Here Eufemia of laudable memory rests in peace, dedicated to God, decorated with every spiritual grace, of which the foremost in glory are Love, Virginity, Duty. In the thirty-third year of her life, she lost to death and won life: because she loved the Maker of her life on earth, she is with Him in the heavens. She died in Christ and will be resurrected in glory. The burial [took place] on the kalends of [January or February.]
28Caritas is singled out by its pre-eminence in the word order. Descombes takes ‘clara’ to be in the ablative case and applies it to all the values in her translation (“qui sont d’abord et de manière éclatante”; Descombes 1985: 445), while Reynolds merges it with prima (most outstanding were; Reynolds 2000: 538), but it could equally be an adjective applied to caritas (glorious Love). In all cases the syntax serves to separate caritas from the other virtues, further emphasising its pre-eminence and the Biblical parallel, from a passage where Paul notes what has been left to the man of God after the ascension. In the Douay-Rheims translation, this reads: “And now there remain faith, hope, and charity [fides, spes, caritas], these three: but the greatest of these is charity [caritas.]”6 The trinity of virtues in the epitaph is likewise emphasised through the visual structure, reserving one line for the exposition of all virtues and the primacy of caritas among them. While the use of caritas in the epitaph for Sofroniola was positioned to reflect a melding of its traditional use in marking marital affection with divine values, the text in Eufemia’s inscription emphasises the latter.
29As Descombes notes, the order is reversed here against that on the epitaph for Sofroniola: here the information that we are discussing spiritual graces precede the list themselves (Descombes 1985: 446-7). This effect is strengthened by the prominent situation of Deus on the first line. While the information itself remains the same, the new structure lends itself to prioritising the importance of the divine mandate rather than the graces themselves: any similarity between the corresponding virtues with earlier practice is incidental to their role as divine precepts. The substitution of “uirginitas” for “castitas” may also be more strident than Descombes supposes: while Descombes dismisses castitas as appropriate for a wife not a nun, we continue to find it as an epithet for male and female religious until the end of the period (Descombes 1985: 447). This strident tone fits with the repeated references to Eufemia’s devoted life and guaranteed resurrection, a theme generally reserved for bishops in this period. Whereas the epitaph for Sofroniola relies on the reuse of traditional epithets, the author of Eufemia’s epithet saw her virginity as a mark of distinction that needed to be distinguished from the more universal castitas. The substitution of virginity and the syntax strengthen the Christian valence of the traditional values, caritas and pietas, but the decision to invert an old form and the inclusion of traditional language suggest that the epitaph sought to emphasise the exceptionality of Eufemia within the moral community of Vienne rather than to separate her from it.
30A few decades later, however, we see the beginnings of a shift towards clarifying the nature of these virtues and classifying them in relationship to particular recipients or behaviours. An example of this transition can be seen on the epitaph for a priest named Paschasius, in a rare long prose inscription from the mid to late sixth century. As the text is so long, we will review only the relevant passage:
caretate primus, humilitate alt(u)s, humanetate largissimus omnes piae dilegens odio habens nemenem
Reynolds 735/ CIL XIII.2705.
Tr: The upmost in love, elevated through humility, generous due to his humanity, loving everyone dutifully, hating no one.
31The primacy given to caritas mirrors the virtues we have seen in the previous epitaphs from the fifth and early-sixth century, as does the use of an initial trinity of values, here caritas, humilitas and humanitas. However, there are two notable differences. First, the strength of these virtues is used to explain why Paschasius has come to be lauded. Whereas earlier-sixth-century inscriptions suggested that the deceased possessed a range of desirable qualities, and might be exceptional for doing so, here the emphasis lies on the surpassing nature of that quality. In addition, the audience of these actions is mentioned. While ‘everyone’ is suitably vague, this inscription focuses attention on the relationship between the deceased and the recipient of their virtuous behaviour in a manner that was not present in earlier inscriptions.
32The shift back towards emphasising the beneficiaries of virtuous behaviour that we see in the epitaph for Paschasius is more explicit in other inscriptions that can be dated to the same period, such as one from 565 or AD 566 from Vienne. The name of the recipient is now lost, but she was commended as:
[…? fede pre]ce[pua] , [?natal-/
?omn]ibus cara, pauperbus pia, mancipiis benigna/
orauit semper quod obtenere meruit.
RICG XV.41.
Tr: Loving towards [her freedwomen? everyone?], dutiful towards the poor, kind to her slaves, she always prayed to obtain what she merited.
33The anonymous woman is commemorated for her caritas and pietas, values that we have already seen across centuries of Southern-Gallic epigraphy. However, these virtues are now bounded and made explicit to particular relationships – the poor, her slaves. Any ambiguity over the direction of caritas or pietas is replaced by a clear statement of charitable benevolence towards her social inferiors and, in the cases of the mancipia, her human possessions. Moreover, the introduction of the recipient emphasises the idea that virtue is laudable behaviour in a particular context, not an inherent trait or characteristic. Equally important, the return to using an adjectival form, rather than a noun form, transforms the virtue from a quality that is somehow contained by the person into a description of the person themselves. In addition to removing the ambiguity over the directionality of a virtue like caritas (is the person loveable or loving?) this shift centres the personal virtuousness of the deceased by making them a virtuous actor rather than a vessel for virtue.
34As we have seen, while the same values were invoked across centuries of epigraphic tradition, different meanings were highlighted at different moments through the use of syntax and visual structure. During the tumultuous fifth century, commemorators used these values in deliberately multivalent texts, evoking a shared sense of community by obscuring any differences of interpretation. The preferred reading was highlighted, but not necessitated. By the end of the sixth century, however, inscriptions began to delimit the meaning of wide-ranging virtues like pietas and caritas to specific acts, by focusing on the application of virtuous behaviour to a particular relationship. Moreover, the very implications of these epithets changed: whereas earlier epitaphs implied that the deceased were an asset to their community due to their abundant possession of these values, later epitaphs emphasised the personal actions of the deceased and their individual merit, separating the deceased from their community by making that community into recipients of virtue.
35A much larger set of examples would be needed to fully explore the implications and changing patterns of moral language in epitaphs, and that merits publication elsewhere in a longer format. Still, my analysis of changing uses of caritas shows the need for more work that analyses the literary and material narratives of late-antique epigraphic texts, and suggests some potential avenues this method may reveal through the example of changing uses of the same moral vocabulary.
4. Moral communities?
36In the previous sections, we have seen how formula books are not a useful diagnostic for the literacy of a community, and communities instead seem to have chosen to fix on the same values even where different forms of presentation could alter the emphasis or interpretation. The formulaic nature of moral language was therefore a valued and intended feature of epitaphs, rather than an inadvertent side-effect of failing literacy or pre-fabricated stones. In this final section, I suggest that it is useful to approach this language in the context of the group in which this formulaic language was established and shared. For shorthand, I term this a “moral community.”
37How these communities functioned in Burgundy from the fourth to seventh centuries is a topic for another paper and falls decidedly outside the scope of this short contribution. Nonetheless, thinking about the community dynamics in which formulaic language could be preserved and developed allows us to elucidate a few hypotheses and important limitations from the evidence and approaches that we have surveyed. The tight preservation of certain uses indicates that moral values were actively maintained and defined. Yet, we would be remiss to infer that we are necessarily dealing with “a one-way, ecclesiastical process of grooming that was intended to discipline both outward conduct and inner dispositions into conformity” (Van Dam 1988).
38The moral language that was invoked in late-antique Burgundy did not necessarily emerge within local communities, nor was its value necessarily was derived from any (imagined) sense of communal origin. However, that does not mean that we need to consider the motivations behind it to come as some form of ecclesiastical workshop directive, or to discount the active role of local commissioners in selecting these value words and shaping their meaning. Instead, the value in values may come primarily from displaying a privileged awareness of what constituted correct behaviour as much as the behaviour itself. After all, the decision to accord with values proposed by better-informed authority figures is thus necessary for being equal – or even superior to them – in virtue. Rather than envisaging the use of moral language on epitaphs through a dichotomous lens of active choice or passive repetition, we would do well to remember that, while true consent is an alien concept to late-antique Gaul, agency is not only found in divergence, and the moral conformity we find in these texts may have been a beneficial and active choice. (Wilkinson 2015; Dossey 2010: 167-8)
Conclusions
39In this chapter, I have addressed two issues: the value of studying formulaic values, and the ways that textual and material strategies were used to lend different interpretations to the same moral formulae. The shared palette of values in late-antique South-Eastern Gaul cannot be reduced to evidence for widespread illiteracy or apathy, but instead could be used to paint a variety of different life stories. By the design and placement of these values, the artisan could highlight or minimise different perceptions of what those behaviours entailed. The moral language of these texts was shared, but that did not render it meaningless.
40This argument is not to suggest that every commissioner at every workshop had an equal ability to consult with artisans and shape the epitaph that they bought. Yet, even if we concede that some epitaphs may have been bought “off the peg” or according to an expected formula, these differences may well have shaped the choice of design or the order in which values were selected or proposed, especially if the commissioner was allowed to see the final design on a wax tablet before agreeing to the purchase. Rather than envisaging a dichotomous situation in which epitaphs were either individually commissioned or bought “off the peg”, this analysis of moral language and its presentation suggests the avenues by which individual commemorators could shape or tint the memory of their lost ones within the bounds of social expectations, as well as the problems with viewing conformity as passivity.
41By reconsidering the use of moral language on late-antique epitaphs, we can better understand the ways that late-antique societies faced the transition between life and death. Epitaphs reflect a set of negotiations between individuals and communities, past and present and future, the living commemorator and the commemorated defunct. Rather than prescribed or meaningless words, moral language offered a canvas and palette with which people could approach that complexity and find a place for their dead as pillars of once and future communities.
Bibliographie
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10.1515/9783110598384 :Notes de bas de page
1 Undatable: RICG XV.16; Last-known use: CIL XIII.2353.
2 CIL XIII.2356; CIL XIII.2382; RAC (1978) 6/ Reynolds 311; CIL XIII.2413; RICG XV.100; RICG XV.197; RICG XV.200; RICG XV.245; CIL XII.2701; CIL XIII.2384; CIL XIII.2412; CIL XIII.2392; RICG XV.148; RICG XV.206; CIL XII.1729; CIL XIII.2417; RICG XV.118. For dulcissimus cf. Berthet, Pagnon 1989: 54.
3 RICG XV: 97; 98; 181; 246; 263; 267; 269; 270.
4 RICG XV: 41; 59.
5 CIL XIII.1655: In qua, q(uid)quit habent cunctorum uota parentum, contulerat tribuens omnia pulchra D(eu)s; CIL XIII.1656/Reynolds 26: In qua quidquid [bo]norum est, contuler- [at] cuncta D(eu)s.
6 1 Cor. 13.13: Nunc autem manent fides, spes, caritas, tria haec: major autem horum est caritas.
Auteur
University of London, Department of History, London, United Kingdom
University of Reading, Department of Classics, Reading, United Kingdom
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