Aucamville Project 11: Mary on the Cross (redux)

3/3:  I'd forgotten I'd already done a (quite different) little riff on this theme:  The Virgin and the Cross.

Toulouse is known as "la Ville Rose" (the Pink City) because of the brick with which its buildings have been constructed since at least the Middle Ages.  These bricks are not the smallish rectangular jobbies you might think of in American or English construction.  In Toulouse and the surrounding areas the principle brick is called a "foraine" and is about 45 x 25 cm and 5 cm thick.  They're quite heavy and make for a solid wall.  45 centimeters is no small shakes.

 

The gatehouse to the Aucamville cemetery gives a sense of the ingenuity with which these foraines can be put to use.  The walls are made with them, as are the decorative elements of the cornice and the pediment, even the frame of the arched entry.  I've always liked this gatehouse, which is simple  but elegant.  The size and shape of the cross in the pediment is determined by the material:  four foraines make up each arm, and to me, it has always looked something like a flower.  If you look at our other posts about architecture in Toulouse (example), you'll see that everything from walls to bridges to obelisks to chateaux are made with these foraines.  I suppose that's due to the fact that the soil around here is pretty much pure clay.  If I dig in my garden, I will find this clay with some river stones mixed in, but very little dirt or vegetal matter.

In Toulouse, the Terre Cabade cemetery (see the previous example I mentioned), whose entrance features two brick obelisks, takes it's name from this clay-like earth--"cavade" in Occitan.  (Like Spanish, the v and b sound is pretty much interchangeable in some Occitan dialects).

For stately buildings, this clay is put into a more or less standard mould and fired in a kiln to produce bricks of terra cotta, or terre cuite.  But humbler buildings, barns and even homes will be made of unfired brick.  The clay is mixed with some straw and dried in the sun.  The uncooked bricks have the same dimensions as a foraine.  They are not usually used on the north face of a structure, and even the humblest of buildings will use cooked brick at their foundation, as well as to frame windows, doors and reinforce the corners of a structure; sometimes a row or two will be thrown in to solidify the wall, along with smooth flat river stones, or galets.  This architecture is much like that of the American Southwest, with wooden beams and adobe walls.  The principal difference is that in France, one almost never finds a flat roof.

Anyway, this is less about architecture than it is to present a few images for The Gid, something that astonished him:  the Virgin Mary at the center of the cross.

The two examples presented here are typical of the region, in material and imagery:  they are made out of wrought iron as opposed to cut stone, and the crosses use a vegetal motif.  Get your Joseph Campbell out, as Yggdrasil definitely comes to mind.  In the first example below, I find a deft piece of work; the vines curl about Mary's head and the leaves are clearly star-shaped, thus evoking Mary's halo of stars.  Whether intentional or not, the leaves as a crown of stars symbolically connect Heaven and Earth, referring (I believe) to the Tree of Life as a kind of axis mundi (see Aucamville Project 4).  It would also connect the very terrestrial act of burying the dead with the post-mortem voyage of the soul to heaven.

Example 1.  Note how the vine forms a halo of star-shaped leaves around Mary's head.

In the second example, we find a form more common in this area, where the Cross itself is like a tree.  The flowers are lilies, symbols of the Virgin, almost exploding from behind her in a luscious bouquet of vegetal grace, iron-clad to boot.  The spring-like form to the right of Mary's head (from the viewer's perspective) adds an especially dynamic touch.  Recall also that the fleur-de-lis, a stylized lily, is a long-standing symbol of French royalty; the lily as a symbol of both French royalty and the Virgin Mary would also link Mary with France.  As an aside, a cock is also commonly used on these wrought-iron crosses and it, too, is a symbol of France.  Current notions of laïcité aside, France is a decidedly Catholic country, or at least a Marial one:  no village is complete without a statue of the Virgin.

Example 2:  The Queen is dead, long live the Queen.

These use of these crosses is not confined to grave markers; for a detailed discussion of the many ways they are used, please see "Too late, baby. Slay a few animals. At the crossroads."

I'm also looking forward to an upcoming guest post by LoS pal Tim Wilson, who will write about these crosses, especially in the funerary context, and traditions derived from the pre-Christian worship of Hecate.  I don't know what he'll write, but I'd like to mention that Hecate is a tripartite goddess who was often portrayed facing three directions; this is linked to her function as a goddess of crossroads, of which death is a sort, I suppose!  Hecate, unsurprisingly, is sometimes viewed as an influence on Marial attributes; the latter's symbol, the lily, in it's stylized fleur-de-lis version, is often used to symbolize the trinity.  Hecate was also seen as a Savior, the Mother of Angels, which definitely fits in with Mary's role in Catholicism.  She is also associated with the underworld, which is especially resonant in the context we're looking at here.  I predict Tim will go into these ideas pretty thoroughly and, if I know Tim, not without a great deal of erudition and a dash of humor.

Finally, the third example below is less typical of the region, but the mandala-like, vaguely floral motif at the center really grabbed my attention.  It may merely be a pretty abstract design, or it may be intended to represent a flower or even the sun; a floral motif is clearly present at the base of the cross, with leaves growing up the sides and some kind of flower on the middle, a lily perhaps, or a lotus.  The flower strikes me as vaguely Egyptian.  The extremities on the arms and top of the cross also seem like stylized flowers.  If the "mandala" is a solar symbol, this could allude to the Occitan cross used in these parts, which some theorize may derive from a Gaulish solar disc.

This stone cross also has a weird androgynous quality, evoking at once both a curvaceous feminine form and a phallus.

So in these iron trees and this stone representations of flowers, as well as in the flower-like design of the gatehouse pediment, we have an interesting visual metaphor for the ephemeral being immortalized.  The flower is ephemeral but, like the Christian hope for the faithful at the end of the world, returns to life.

One final thought.  As the Aucamvillois bury their dead in the clay, one can't help but wonder that if on some level they are reminded of the origin of all life in Adam, who the Bible tells us, was formed by God from a lump of clay and then fired in His kiln, so to speak.

Human life grown from the soil, like a brick....or a flower.

2D → 3D → ?

Mystical origami

A recent post, a bit of poetic sport, was inspired by the image above, which I ran across during my ongoing and peripatetic work on my Scout/Freemasonry book.  (The source post, btw, is pretty good:  Temple Building part two)  Looking for the image's provenance via Google image search, the diagrams in the last post were offered as similar results.

The Google search feature often yields surprises; it'd be a worthy esthetic concept to explore further.

The image above seems to be unique on the web, it only comes up where I originally found it (and used on LoS without permission, but I believe it falls under Fair Use).

I've seen the Latin cross/cube configuaration before, may have even used it to make cubes, dice perhaps, but don't recall having an explicit "huh" kind of reaction.  Perhaps I did.  On the other hand, as far as I can recall, this is the first time I've seen the pyramid broken down into the cross "pattée" recalling alternate versions of the Maltese Cross or the St. George Cross used by the Swedish Rite of Freemasonry (a  Christian rite which is practiced in all the Scandinavain countries, name notwithstanding).  Not to mention the similar Templar variant. 

At the mention of Templars, I can't help but recall mass murderer Anders Behring Breivik, a self-styled Templar and now-expelled member of the Norwegian Order of Freemasons, who practice the Swedish Rite and use a red cross pattée in their coat of arms.  This thought is inevitable given the events in Aurora, Colorado which occurred after this post was started. (I actually wrote it about 10 days ago, just after the recent DARPA post mentioned at the start of this one, and publish it today after a few additions.  It was, btw, written before my last post, a few brief thoughts about the theories surrounding the recent shootngs in Aurora, Colorado.)

InTemple Building part two, the author states "The Maltese Cross is the expression of the Higher World, the Latin Cross of the Lower World."  Perhaps this is true; the crosses in the image do appear to form a stylized figure of a human figure.  Intriguingly, "many crowns worn by monarchs have jewelled cross pattée (or pattée) symbols mounted atop the band.....A cross pattée is particularly associated with crowns in Christian countries."  Maybe this is because it does represent the "Higher World" associated with the head.  In our stylized human it "is" the head.

I'm not informed enough to write about the intersection of mathematics, geometry and mysticism, but I do know that science and mysticism have gone hand in hand like chocolate and peanut butter, from Pythagoras to Isaac Newton.  Numerology, though often an insipid banality pushed by synchromystics, actually has an interesting and venerable history.  I recall reading The Chosen by Chaim Potok, a novel about the relationship between two Jewish kids, among other things.  One of these boys wants to become a mathematician, which gives hims a certain deftness with numbers that impresses his friend's rabbi father when bandying about numbers in order to find the esoteric meanings of Biblical texts.  I later learned this was called gematria, defined by Wackelypoolia as:

(Hebrew: גימטריה‎ gēmaṭriyā) is a system of assigning numerical value to a word or phrase, in the belief that words or phrases with identical numerical values bear some relation to each other, or bear some relation to the number itself as it may apply to a person's age, the calendar year, or the like. It is likely that the term derives from the order of the Greek alphabet, gamma being the third letter of the Greek alphabet (gamma + tria) Alternatively, the word "gematria" is generally held to derive from Greek geōmetriā, "geometry", which was used as a translation of gēmaṭriyā, though some scholars believe it to derive from Greek grammateia, rather; it's possible that both words had an influence on the formation of the Hebrew word. It has been extant in English since the 17th century from translations of works by Giovanni Pico della Mirandola. Although ostensibly derived from Greek, it is largely used in Jewish texts, notably in those associated with the Kabbalah.

It is interesting that the word is derived in all likelihood from the word "geometry", a composite of two ancient Greek words: γεωμετρία; geo- "earth" and -metria "measurement" ergo "measurement of the earth."

Mysticism and geometry, of course, come together most forcefully in Freemasonry, whose mystical and ethical system is expressed in geometrical metaphors regarding shapes and the tools that draw them.

The Virgin and the Cross

I've mentioned a few times recently (in comments anyway) that in the southwest of France we find crosses which have Mary at the center as opposed to a crucified Jesus.

For the Gid, who was pretty flabbergasted by this, I present a couple of photos of the phenomenon.

The first used to be a grave marker; a neighbor rescued it from the scrap heap and it's now in my possession.  Note the vegetal motif.  This one's been re-painted with rust-proofing paint.

The following image comes from Le Burgaud, a neighboring town I've mentioned previously; in this town there is a small chapel dedicated to Notre Dame de Aubets along with a sacred spring.  This second example is particularly striking.  The vegetal motif on the cross is less abstract and the cross itself like two logs lashed together.

 

A lot could be said on this topic but I've written so many things about Marial shrines lately I'm totally fuggered on it.  Suffice it to say that's it's pretty clear evidence of the thriving cult of Mary in France and may have something to do with pre-Christian goddesses of the crossroads such as Hecate and the Mater Larum, both of which, like Mary in the Cross (usually found as a grave marker--exhibit A--or crossroad marker--exhibit B), have associations with the afterlife. (previously).

Make of that what you will.

"Too late, baby. Slay a few animals. At the crossroads."

This "croix de chemin" both marks an intersection and memorializes a chapel to 

St. Blandine, destroyed during the Revolution.

This post began when I mentioned to Gid that here in the south west of France one often finds roadside crosses (croix de chemin) with the Virgin Mary at the center as opposed to a crucified Jesus.  The Gid was a bit surprised by this and requested a photo, so I've tried to oblige him.  These crosses do in fact sometimes represent the crucified Jesus.  They can also be unadorned, simple crosses or crosses made to look like unworked logs covered in vines and flowers.  Some are adorned with symbols of the Crucifixion:  a cock, spear, ladder, various tools and implements.....

In the Toulouse region, these small monuments are suchlike:  they are generally about chest-high square pillars, maybe 3 feet (1m) to a side, made of brick.  A cross is mounted on top, made of wrought iron.  Viola.  Simple.  They are ubiquitous.  In the relatively small town of Aucamville, I can count more or less a dozen off the top of my head, but perhaps there are more....

I've pondered these monuments for years and have several theories about their origin; I lay them out in three categories.

Category one is practical.  Imagine when roads were simple dirt tracks, at best.  When it snows, the roads would quickly become covered, side roads easy to miss.  The cross would then pop up, like those poles you see by the side of the road in the mountains, in order to mark the edge of the road.  I should mention that these crosses invariably mark the junction of either a t-intersection or crossroads.

The southwest, however, is not the snowiest of regions, so perhaps this explanation is not the origin--merely added value.  They may have been markers in the wider sense:  "OK, Johann, head towards Grenade and when you come to the second cross, go left." Or maybe, "The farm you're looking for is three crosses down the road."  Where the streets have no name, the cross guides.

My second category is linked to superstition.  My first instinct was to think of the Blues legends of the crossroads.  You know, go to the local crossroads at midnight and make your deal with the devil, play guitar like Ralph Macchio, etc.  A cross would offset this unholy place, no?  In fact, I have read that crossroads were traditionally regarded with apprehension as places where the roads converge were especially prone to unforeseen encounters.  Strangers presented a larger danger in those days, I think.  Cathar heretic?  Sorcerer?  Plague victim?  Without an explicit diabolical association, they could still represent vague forms of danger from the four corners of the earth.

I tend to think that a crossroads, being a cross, might have provoked unease because people were essentially trampling a cross underfoot.  Maybe by dedicating a cross at these spots, the populace felt they'd mollified Jesus into not sending Michael down with a flaming blade in order to make quick with the smiting.  It seems quite possible, much like the theory that the red cross became a symbol of health after the practice of painting them on walls to prevent peasants from pissing there....

The third category is something I'd wondered about and in discussing these things with my neighbor, my feeling was supported: Christianization.  Recall that the Romans had tutelary and guardian deities (lares) for just about everything: cities, neighborhoods, down to the individual households.  There were even lares of intersections:

Lares Compitalicii (also Lares Compitales): the Lares of local communities or neighbourhoods (vici), celebrated at the Compitalia festival. Their shrines were usually positioned at main central crossroads (compites) of their vici, and provided a focus for the religious and social life of their community, particularly for the plebeian and servile masses.

This festival was annual and its name itself derives from "crossroads": 

In ancient Roman religion, the Compitalia (Latin: Ludi Compitalicii) was a festival celebrated once a year in honor of the Lares Compitales, household deities of the crossroads, to whom sacrifices were offered at the places where two or more ways meet. The word comes from the Latin compitum, a cross-way.

There is even precedent for honoring a feminine deity at the crossroads.  Apparently, a "mother of the lares" was honored at them, her devotees hanging woolen effigies which were believed to have replaced the actual sacrifice of children.  Hmm, a mother deity....the sacrifice of children....the cross with Mary at the center may have some kind of foreshadowing here.  The roadside crosses too, are often decorated with flowers upon Mary's feast days.

From the Late Republican and early Imperial eras, the priestly records of the Arval Brethren and the speculative commentaries of a very small number of literate Romans attest to a Mother of the Lares (Mater Larum)....She is named as Mania by Varro (116–27  BC), who believes her an originally Sabine deity. The same name is used by later Roman authors with the general sense of a bogey or "evil spirit". Much later, Macrobius (fl. AD 395–430) describes the woolen figurines hung at crossroad shrines during Compitalia as maniae, supposed as an ingenious substitution for child sacrifices to the Mater Larum, instituted by Rome's last monarch and suppressed by its first consul, L. Junius Brutus.

In this context the following may even indicate aspects of the Black Madonna:

Modern scholarship takes the Arval rites to the Mother of the Lares as typically chthonic, and the goddess herself as a dark or terrible aspect of the earth-mother, Tellus...Mercury leads her to the underworld abode of the dead (ad Manes); in this place of silence she is Tacita (the silent one). En route, he impregnates her. She gives birth to twin boys as silent or speechless as she. In this context, the Lares can be understood as "manes of silence" (taciti manes).

Manes of silence?

Hecate, another figure associated with the underworld, was thus honored, and her shrines served as signposts to find one's way, one would assume in a literal and spiritual sense.  This most certainly included the afterlife as well, as Hecate was the goddess of this realm.  These three forms: literal direction, spiritual direction and navigating the underworld, neatly echo our three categories of purpose outlined above.

In a similar fashion, food was often left at the crossroads to honor Hecate, especially at junctions where three roads converged --what we often call a "Y-intersection".

Frequently a pole was erected at the intersection and three masks would be hung from it to pay homage to Hecate and to request her guidance in helping to choose the right direction.

Interesting in this context is that the iron crosses used for the croix de chemin markers often serve to adorn grave markers as well.  Could we here be seeing an echo of Greco-Roman devotion, in which literal space was marked by a kind of road sign which also had connotations of the journey of the soul in the afterlife?  As we will see, the roadside cross was often used along the route to the cemetery, so that the funeral procession could stop and make appropriate prayers.

Could this ancient association of the crossroads with a goddess of the underworld have influenced the the legend that the Devil, Lord of the Underworld, will appear at a crossroads 'round Midnight?

Crossroads also played a part from time to time in the Imperial cult, indicating that the honorees were not only feminine principles:

In 86 BC, offerings of incense and wine were made at crossroad shrines to statues of the still-living Marius Gratidianus, the nephew of the elder Marius, who was wildly popular in his own right, in large part for monetary reforms that eased an economic crisis in Rome during his praetorship.

After returning to the subject of the roadside cross and formulating the above speculations, I decided to re-read some articles I hadn't read in a while on the topic.  The first, from French Wikipedia, is "Croix de chemins".  This article distinguishes three types of cross:  memorial crosses, boundary crosses and crossroad crosses.  I've spoken a bit about the idea of the memorial and boundary marker in past posts, but in this article I focus mainly on the third type.  This category is the only which has an article of it's own:  "Croix de carrefour".  Under the "functions" heading it mentions the religious use, of course, but indicates they were also used as guide stones, specifically for when roads were covered by snow.  Whereas I'm quite sure  I thought of the first point independently, I think this is where I first heard of the idea that they were used in snowy conditions, but, as I've mentioned, the Toulouse area isn't the snowiest of regions.

The crossroad cross is described as having its origin in the Christianization of megaliths and other pagan monuments, as well as in the practical purpose of defining the limits of parishes, the location of hamlets, as a guide for religious processions.  Why the crossroads?  As stated before; one can get lost more easily there than on the straight and narrow and besides, they've always stood for uncertainty from any direction, a place where the likelihood of a malefic encounter is heightened: 

Le carrefour, dans de nombreuses symboliques, évoque un choix pour lequel il est facile de se tromper de direction, donc de tomber sous la domination des puissances maléfiques.

I have focused primarily on crossroad crosses, but this here site deftly summarizes the roles and types of crosses:  the roadside cross; the processional cross marking the route of, hey hey! religious processions; the boundary cross; the cemetery and village cross (unlike the crossroad crosses which often feature Mary, these usually feature a crucified Jesus); crosses at bridges, summits and springs; finally, memorial crosses.

Unless you read French, this site won't do you much good and the pics aren't stunning but they do their job and show you what the crosses look like.  Note these come from Cantal, north of where I live in the Lomagne area northwest of Toulouse; the Cantal Crosses have much more variety and are hewn from stone.  As I've said, these parts, like most of the buildings in Toulouse and environs, the socles are made from brick and the crosses themselves wrought iron.

I've posted a few example from Aucamville, including one in my possession that was once a grave marker.  No, I didn't desecrate a grave....it had been thrown on a pile of rubble after having presumably come loose from the tomb.  Some of these village cemeteries are in a shocking state of disrepair and it's not uncommon to find a pile broken headstones and iron thrown into an unused corner of the cemetery, invariably behind a high-brick wall on the edge of town....questions of sanitation and what not.

OK, so this is a hubbub of ideas.  I'm not so sure I've done the subject justice, confusedly evoking both underworld figures such as Hecate and Tellus:  "chthonic....a dark or terrible aspect of the earth-mother" and the Virgin Mary.  In the French Southwest at least, Mary, like her pagan counterparts, is a tutelary figure of the crossroads and a spiritual guide.  Yet Mary herself, though usually associated with Isis, the Great Mother and Cybele, has in the Black Virgin the cthonic aspect of these other goddesses; BV's were often found in caves or buried in the earth.  Perhaps it should come as no surprise that Apuleis, in perennial LoS favorite The Golden Ass, identifies Hecate with Isis. Googling "Hecate and the Virgin Mary" I'm not surprised many people make the link.  And why not?  Being thrice-headed, she represents a trinity.  Her powers linked to regeneration and rebirth are not incompatible with Mary's, nor her dominion over childbirth.  The Virgin is indeed believed to have a special role in childbirth; for both Mary and Hecate, this roles was represented by a serpent.

Though Hecate evolved into a vampiric and terrible figure, she began more benignly, something of a protectress.  By the Middle Ages, she was a Witch Queen.  Could this be a result of the growing popularity of Mary in the Middle Ages, perhaps a subsequent need, even if unconscious, to distance her from her prototypes?  Is it a coincidence that midwives and healers, working in Hecate's domain, began to be accused of being witches?  The first witch, Lilith, Adam's first wife, was transformed into a demon when Yahweh booted her from Eden for daring to proclaim herself equal to Adam.   But it was Eve who eventually brought Adam down and brought the curse of pain and suffering upon the process of giving birth.  But Mary, free from their Original Sin, was able to counter the pain and danger of birth, if the right prayers were offered and objects such as her belt rented for such occasions (ND de la Daurade).

It is said that four rivers flowed from Eden to the four corners of the world, forming a great cross.  Each crossroads is a microcosm of this vast cross covering the world.  The center of each crossroads is the center of the world, if not the universe. The axis mundi is "a point of connection between sky and earth where the four compass directions meet. At this point travel and correspondence is made between higher and lower realms".  Hecate and Mary, are unsurprisingly both considered as mediators between heaven and earth, Hecate especially seen as a gatekeeper and patron of the liminal; what could be more liminal than birth, or death?  Each one impossible without the other.

Trouble was knowing which paths lead to heaven and which ones to hell.  Linger too long, and who know who'll turn up.  Choices, choices.  At least in the Southwest, you've got the Virgin Mary looking over you, sometimes from a cross cast to look like wood, decorated with vines and flowers.  An instrument of death, with wood taken, according to legend, from the Tree of Life, if not the Tree itself.  Carpentry seems to have played a large role in the symbolism of rebirth; the tree returns to life each Spring, the carpenter transforms dead wood into useful, even if sometimes cruel creations.  Jesus, the carpenter, killed on a wooden cross.  Noah saved humanity in a big wooden Ark.  The other tree in Eden, that of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, has a name that says it all.  Good and evil, more paths, more choices.

None of this is a direct analogy, role by role, blow by blow, but it is a kind of associational cloud in which we can see faces peering back us, at times distinct, at others, blending into one.  At times distinct and unique all at once, leaving us with a vantage point filtered as if through old glass, forms defined by what isn't rather than what is; questions as opposed to the artificial transparency of answers.

I once saw a sign that said "if you can't dazzle 'em with diamonds, baffle 'em with bullshit."  I may make it my new motto.  That or "Wherever you go, there you are."

Notre Dame d'Alet

Rose window; Notre Dame d'Alet, Montaigut-sur-Save

Let me begin by presenting you with the legend, translated from this page. This text originally appeared in the Almanach Catholique Français (1922).

The Legend of Our Lady of Alet

Around 1200 CE, not far from the Bouconne forest five leagues from Toulouse, an inhabitant of Montaigut named Raymond or, as they say in those parts, Ramounet, was busy plowing his fields to prepare them for the next sowing.

It was hot, the soil hard, the oxen heavy and the man himself a miscreant without fear of God or the Devil. His mouth was far quicker with a blasphemy than a prayer.

The oxen were loathe to obey and the blows Ramounet gave them with his goad did nothing to quicken their step. On the contrary; at one point they stopped and refused to budge. This was all that was needed for the laborer to lose his patience.

A blasphemy was forming on his lips but at the very moment when, to add some oomph to his imprecation, he lifted his eyes to Heaven, he saw the Holy Virgin holding the baby Jesus in her arms. The Mother of God spoke to him:

"Raymond," she said, "go on my behalf to the villagers of Montaigut and tell them I want them to build me a chapel."

Raymond, dazzled, replied fearfully:

"Madame, everyone in Montaigut knows me and if I tell them you appeared to me, they won't believe it."

"Plant your goad in the ground," replied the Virgin.

Raymond obeyed and planted his goad, which was instantly covered in flowers.

As you can imagine, Raymond left posthaste for the village, carrying his flowery goad. He performed the mission entrusted to him by the Virgin and the people believed him. But where to build the chapel? The Holy Virgin hadn't said.

After some deliberation it was decided to build the chapel in the very field where Raymond labored.

But another marvel followed. Despite all the hard work carried out in building the chapel during the day, the night found all the work demolished. Work was thus stopped during several days as no one wanted to waste their efforts. Finally, the exasperated master mason threw his trowel into the air saying:

Where my trowel falls
The chapel will be built

And the trowel seemed to take flight, falling to earth at the summit of a hill that dominates the rich valley of the Save River and overlooks the village of Montaigut.

There, the oratory still visible today was built, magnificently restored under the care of R.P. Caussette in 1867.

Numerous pilgrims come to this sanctuary, open year round for the devotion of the faithful. The principal celebration is on the 8th of September [Nativity of the Virgin].

Notre Dame d'Alet, Montaigut-sur-Save

Nigra sum sed formosa

Every detail of this legend corresponds to those surrounding Black Virgins: the strange behavior of oxen while plowing; the demand for a chapel to be built; lack of success in executing this order until the Virgin herself points out where it should be built; the miracle of flowers. Black Virgins often have special chapels located on hills overlooking towns....

Other details conform perfectly to the characteristics of the Black Virgins, though not mentioned in this article. The chapel dedicated to Notre Dame d'Alet sits on a hill, but the spot where she originally appeared was in a field below. According to the nun who takes care of the chapel, that place is marked by a spring. No need to recapitulate that this is typical of Marial apparitions, black or otherwise.

Unlike run-of-the-mill Virgins, a Black Virgin usually has a fervent cult. Indeed, again according to our learned nun, this chapel was the pilgrimage destination for Toulousains during the entirety of the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. It remained the most important destination in the region until it was eclipsed by the cult of Saint Germaine of Pibrac (1579-1601). Private veneration of Saint Germaine dates from 1644, when her body was exhumed and found to be incorrupt, but her cult seems to have taken wing in the 19th century. (I maintain Saint Germaine is just another, more approachable manifestation, not simply of a virgin, but the Virgin).

But Pibrac had barely taken the number one spot when it was eclipsed by Lourdes, which was attacting thousands of visitors by the mid-nineteenth century. The Virgin abides. In any event, the cult of Notre Dame d'Alet remains active and a procession and pilgrimage are held every year on the day of her Nativity. (Pictures here).

So, we've got oxen, miracles, a spring, an active cult and we've even got the color: Notre Dame d'Alet. The statue presented to me was definitely dusky in hue as a result of the material in which she is made. Like many BV chapels, there are various light-skinned depictions, but the painted ex-votos have been placed around the darker pietà.

All of which leads me to several interesting thoughts. First of all, Notre dame d'Alet is not considered a Black Virgin site, despite all the shared characteristics with this typology. Secondly, recall that the Marial apparition at Montaigut was with the baby Jesus. In fact, such statues are represented here. But it's interesting that the ex-votos and special chapel within the chapel are grouped around a dusky pietà, despite the disparity with the legend.

Ex-voto painting; Notre Dame d'Alet, Montaigut-sur-Save

Is this a sign that on some level, the darkness of this sculpture speaks to the faithful more forcefully than the light-skinned sculptures, despite the fact that the latter are more in tune with the legend?

At the same time, the pietà here is not considered a "Black Virgin." Which leads us back to a point worth pondering. Most popular works about Black Virgins focus on the origin and meaning of the figures. Which is as it should be perhaps, even though it's perhaps a speculative and potentially futile exercise. Theories as to the origins abound; "meaning" is in the mind of the beholder.

What be more easily documented, however, is when the Black Virgins began to be perceived as black. That is to say, when was it that commentators felt it necessary to mention a dark color at all. Moreover, when did this perceived blackness began to take on importance? For there's the rub. Black Virgins, as we've said, have fervent cults; among the faithful this blackness is of critical importance. Indeed, the "restoration" of some Black Virgns have revealed they were originally polychrome....much to the distress of her faithful.

In any event, Notre dame d'Alet is perhaps a valuable case study to test the thesis of Monique Scheer, who for me has written to most useful article on the phenomenon I've read to date. her influence on my thinking is evident in this passage from From Majesty to Mystery:

A positivistic approach toward ascertaining the ontological status of their blackness is most likely futile and in any case tells us nothing of how the color was perceived and interpreted among believers. That is why, in this essay, I will approach the question of when and why the madonnas became black in terms of a history of perception. What patterns of interpretation would have been available and relevant to viewers to make sense of the skin color? How do these change over time? And can the explanation for the existence of this coloring be sought in these meanings?

A few dollars more

I don't have much to say on the following point, but I would like to add that I find in this story a rather obvious sexual component. The laborer, preparing the fields for planting his seed, is stymied by recalcitrant beasts. Lo! A shining woman appears and commands him to plant his goad, or long stick, into the earth. Instantly, flowers appear on his staff. The sexual metaphor may only be apparent to the post-Freudian mind; who knows if such an interpretation would have been considered pre-Freud?

But this sexual metaphor is, to me, just that; the interaction of the brutinsh Raymond and the Virgin not only gives birth to flowers, but presumably sparks a spiritual transformation as well. Tellingly, the Wikipedia article on the goad speaks more about spiritual metaphors than practical concerns. Quoting An Encyclopedia of the Biblical World:

The image of prodding the reluctant or lazy creature made this a useful metaphor for sharp urging, such as the prick of conscience, the nagging of a mate, or the "words of the wise," which are "firmly embedded nails" in human minds (Eccles. 12:11-12).

And quoting The Kabbalah Tree: A Journey of Balance & Growth:

Lamed means 'goad' and in particular an ox-goad, as if we use the power of Gevurah to goad that Aleph ox, the silent letter, into a more tangible physical existence in the heart of the tree [of life]. Lamed begins the Hebrew words for both "learn" and "teach," and so encompasses the most Kabbalist of activities, study. Kabbalah has never been a path of pure sensation, but always has used study to goad us into higher consciousness. Lamed, alone of the Hebrew alphabet, reaches above the height of all the other letters. Through learning we extend ourselves above ordinary awareness.

The goad also is linked to the crosier, or staff carried by high-ranking church officials:

The traditional explanation for the form of Western crosiers, beyond the obvious reference to the bishop as a shepherd to his flock, is this: the pointed ferrule at the base symbolizes the obligation of the prelate to goad the spiritually lazy; the crook at the top, his obligation to draw back those who stray from the faith; and the staff itself his obligation to stand as a firm support for the faithful. It is considered to be both a rod and a staff (Psalm 23:4): a rod for punishing the recalcitrant, and a staff for leading the faithful.

Other symbolism, though perhaps less germane to this legend, will certainly strike a chord with anyone who has followed our posts on serpents and rods:

The Eastern Orthodox and Eastern Rite Catholic crosier, is found in two common forms. One is tau-shaped, with curved arms, surmounted by a small cross. The other has a top comprising a pair of sculptured serpents or dragons curled back to face each other, with a small cross between them. The symbolism in the latter case is of the bronze serpent made by Moses in Numbers 21:8-9. It is also reminiscent of the caduceus or the rod of the ancient Greek god Asclepius whose worship was centered around the Aegean, including Asia Minor, indicating the role of the bishop as healer of spiritual diseases.

How 'bout them apples?

This legend dates from the time when the cult of the Virgin was becoming wildly popular and when the Virgin became an important intercessor in the Catholic mind. The goad, a slightly sexual symbol at the very least, also evokes spiritual flowering, discipline, punishment and leadership....

Throwing down the donny

Finally, it would be remiss not to mention that there is another Notre Dame d'Alet....or was. In Alet-les-Bains there was once a powerful Benedictine monastery, the seat of a bishopric and a cathedral dedicated to Notre Dame. Thus it was often referred to as Notre Dame d'Alet, or Aleth. This word is a Frenchification of a much older Celtic word: Alekhta. The town is obviously very old, founded by Celts upon the Aude River, perhaps due to the thermal springs found there. These were, and still are, considered as healing waters and tradition has it that temple to Diana or Cybele was erected there under Roman influence; this Roman presence there leads one to wonder what kind of syncretization went down.

Although a fascinating story unto itself, I haven't found any indication that this Alet is linked to Notre Dame d'Alet of Montaigut, which also bears traces of Roman presence. Another Aleth in Brittany, like Montaigut, has roots in pre-history, a later Celtic presence and was even later occupied by Romans, but it's hard to say if there is a toponymical relation.

Still on the hunt for the connection....

Aucamville Project 6: From the universal to the particular

Macrocosm and microcosm is an ancient Greek Neo-Platonic schema of seeing the same patterns reproduced in all levels of the cosmos, from the largest scale (macrocosm or universe-level) all the way down to the smallest scale (microcosm or sub-sub-atomic or even metaphysical-level). In the system the mid-point is Man, who summarizes the cosmos.

I think this just about sums up what I intend to do with this latest installment of the Aucamville Project. We've gone on at great length about many themes on LoS: obelisks, sacred stones, the Tree of Life, snakes etc. and there are a few things in town worth mentioning as they reflect this wider dialogue. As most of what needs to be said on the subject has already been said in other posts, I'm just going to present the local manifestations with a few bits of trivia and new observations, with a few personal comments thrown in.

The Virgin Mary and Satan: Smackdown!

In a very recent post (Jesus was in shape) we looked at the symbolism of the serpent and cross, or rod. By way of explanation we also looked at those images of the Virgin where Satan is vanquished under her foot. It's a rather common motif in the South of France. Near our village church there is a small plaza with a statue of the Virgin doing exactly this, vanquishing.

Although the discussion of Mary appears in a recent post, it comes from an article I wrote years ago about Daurade Basilica. You may have also noticed that Daurade Basilica is my namesake. This is because when I moved to Toulouse I lived in a quartier called Croix-Daurade (Golden or Gilded Cross). I then moved to the very center of town where my small quartier was simply called La Daurade, after the basilica. Although far from gilded these days, the orginal building was a Byzantine-style orthogonal church with Byzantine-style guilded frescoes; hence the name of my quartier and now, my moniker. Pretension is deflated when you realize a Daurade is also a tasty fish--the gilt-head breem.

If you check out the English Wikipedia entry on the basilica, there is a column from the original church (400 to 600 CE) with a striking vegetal motif--stone and tree become one.


Our own statue of the Virgin is missing her left arm, smashed apparently by a stone-throwing mysterious stranger (according to a friend who lives next to the plaza). Oddly, I already had (and still have) a small icon of the Virgin, missing her left arm. I'm left-handed, too.

Pole Dancing with Snakes

It occured to me that the portal of the village church is flanked by two small pillars on each side. This is not unusual but is yet another example of the use of in this case not structurally necessary pillars to demarcate the threshold of a sacred space. The capitals of these pillars are sculpted in the form of dragons, or serpents. Though not specifically wrapped around the shaft of the pillar, as in the aforementioned post, there is an evocation of said image, at least in my mind.

Just for kicks, here's a link to some sexy women with serpents.

St. Blandine Chapel: Got Milk?

This chapel was razed during the Revolution and sold off for the building materials. For some reason, pregnant women and wet nurses went to this chapel to pray for abundant milk. Incidentally, pregnant women also go to the Black Madonna at the Daurade to ensure a smooth delivery and for the well-being of their newborns.

Blandine's legend doesn't seem to have anything to do with breast milk. She is the Patron Saint of those falsely accused of cannibalism, however. Her martyrdom was particularly gruesome: roasted alive and then thrown to wild bulls, still living. None of this may be so out of place after all. Local icon Notre Dame de Boisville is still solicited for the protection of children and martyrdom by bull is a potent image in Trans-Pyrenéan culture, especially here: Patron of Toulouse Saint Sernin was martyred by an angry bull. Additionally, a rather large number of Black Virgins are reputed to have been discovered due to the strange behavior of bulls, whether they were especially averse to or attracted to where the Virgins lay hidden.

In any event, the site of the chapel is now marked by a roadside cross which when viewed casually appears to have a serpent coiled around it. In fact this is a ribbon and vines. But still it too reminds us of the rod/cross and serpent motif described in our recent post, as well as another link to the vine imagery once associated with the Daurade. Off the cuff, one could in times past rent the belt of the Black Madonna, a kind of glorified ribbon, to lay over the belly during childbirth. Given what the Virgin crushing the snake implies (again, please see Jesus was in shape), could it be that the serpent, the ribbon and the vines are all symbolically linked to one another, as a way of reminding the faithful of the origins of sin and the ways to defeat it?

Monument aux Morts

This section doesn't merit a funny title. Every town has one of these monuments, often in the form of an obelisk, a form you may recall occupied a lot of our time in 2009. Strictly speaking, in Aucamville, it isn't an obelisk. It's as if Aucamville went for the bargain model and got a 2D version. Viewed from afar it's an obelisk but close up one can see that the pyramidion atop the column only has two slopes and is flat.

You can also see that there are quite few names on it (25 WW1 dead). I'm not sure of the population at this time but in 1954 it was 756 and in 1999 was 790. One can only surmise that during the Great War there weren't many more, there may have been less. It is an indication of what an effect the war must have had on people, no one was immune. Which is why I get a little miffed when people slam the French as "cheese-eating surrender monkeys" for the Second World War. After having 11% of your entire population killed or wounded twenty years prior might make one less enthusiastic about the prospect of doing it all over again. To put this in persective, US casualties amounted to one-third of one percent of the overall population. Not quite the same psychic shock.

Not to downplay US casualties. My great-uncle Tom Sanders was KIA during the Meuse-Argonne Offensive on September 28, 1918 (my birthday). His brother John made it out alive--barely. Hospitalized and medically discharged as a result of exposure to gas, he died a young 47 years old a result of the stress to his heart.

Sadly my great-uncle and over 26,000 other men died as a result of poor leadership and being thrust into battle while too green; they fought this battle not because they were ready, but because they were near the area.

This all took place near Verdun, in the north. Incidentally, Aucamville is 7 kliks away from Verdun-sur-Garonne. Some American men came to France for adventure and found death. I came here and started a new life.

That is all.

Jesus was in shape (Gid remix)

The Trigger

It all began with this logo of the Stade Toulousain, the storied rugby union club of Toulouse. I've seen it millions of times and it never rang synchromystic bells, except the red and the black: Stendahl, of course; accounting terminology, yes; the anarchists and reds of the Spanish Civil War. In Toulouse, this latter is not as far-fetched as it may first appear.

The logo appears banal enough, really. A shield, a show of strength, the diabolic and virile colors, aggression and warning, blood and bile, the S. the T. Stade Tolousain. Simple. But one day, my kid was drawing the logo, tracing it from the computer screen, and something struck me. It resembles a serpent and tau I saw in a local basilica; then the associations exploded: the snake on the Tree of Life; the snake vanquished under the foot of the Virgin; but especially, Moses fending off a serpent plague with a bronze snake on a tau--a scene John evokes for the crucifixion.

I'm not crazy. I don't know what the designer of this logo intended. But therein lies not the rub. We're all about the bean-pole of the empty vessel: a head, a pair of eyes, a set of memories, a keyboard. We say sumpin', and we aims to extrapolate upon the association.

Before we wander too far down this associational trail of images, let's take a moment to consider the historical context in which Stade Toulousian arose.

Sporting History

Fraternal organizations date back to the ancient past; we know of them among the Greeks and Romans, for example. During the middle ages, trade-based guilds or lay fellowships of confraternities were common. Closer to our time, the 19th century saw an explosion of groups, fraternities and clubs. In the US, an estimated 50 percent of adult males belonged to a club or fraternity at the beginning of the 20th century, leading historian Arthur M Schlesinger to refer to the US as "a nation of joiners."

Part of this was due to the emergence of a middle class with time on its hands; for the first time, leisure became more widely available and at the same time more regimented, mirroring perhaps the more regimented life of the worker in an emerging industrial capitalist economy. Leisure became sport. Baseball and American Football have their origins in the late 18th or early 19th century, but it wasn't until the second half of said century that the rules were codified and the first leagues formed. The first professional American football league dates to 1903 after evolving out of rugby, although the NFL formed in 1920. Walter Camp, who perhaps is the single most important figure in its development during the 1870's onward, was also a vigorous proponent of exercise, penning several works on the subject. The National League (1881) of Baseball joined the American League in 1901 to form MLB.

Concurrent with the increasing coherence of organized sport, the Anglo-Saxon world experienced an upsurge in so-called "Muscular Christianity." Put simply, this refers to "a movement during the Victorian era which stressed the need for energetic Christian activism in combination with an ideal of vigorous masculinity." Although originating in England, the doctrine found a strong reception in the US. The YMCA (1844), for example, was influenced by it, and the organization's version has left us with volleyball and basketball.

The link of athleticism and Christianity is not as zany as it might seem. The New Testament includes a number of athletic metaphors linking faith with racing and even boxing. According to Wikipedia, "Such metaphors also appear in the writings of contemporary philosophers, such as Epictetus and Philo, drawing on the tradition of the Olympic Games, and this may have influenced New Testament use of the imagery."

19th century religious movements also involved aspects of health and diet. The Mormons (Book of Mormon, 1830) have had bans on caffeine. The 7th Day Adventists (1863) are known for a heavy emphasis on diet and health. Kellog's corn flakes were created by an Adventist as a natural extension of the sect's practices; the Kellog company itself dates to 1906. Mary Baker Eddy (Christian Science, 1866) left us Science and Health. The Oxford Group of the 1920's and 30's sviewed sin as a disease.

In Europe, the same growth of sport and athleticism was occurring. The "father of gymnastics" Friedrich Jahn may have studied theology and philology, but his gymnastics movement, the Turnverein, spread starting in 1811 and influenced a physical culture movement which came to encompass Muscular Christianity. The Czech Sokol and following Scandinavian and Anglo-Saxon culture of bodybuilding and gymnastics were heavily influenced. On other fronts, the German Scout-like Wandervogel was founded in 1896. Baden-Powell founded the Scouting movement in 1907. In sport, the Football Association was formed in 1863. FIFA in 1904. Stade Toulousain, point of origin for all of this, also traces its origin to 1904. Rugby's first rules were written in 1848, that revolutionary year, and perhaps its final form was set off in 1863 when the Football Association formed. Rugby union (15 players) has been governed by the same board since 1886. 13-player rugby (league) can be dated to 1895.

The 19th century ferment of sport, athleticism and a spiritual emphasis on the benefits of being sound in body has had an enduring legacy. Muscular Christianity emphasized manliness and our instinct is that it refelects certain colonial insecurities about the fitness of young men. What but sport can arouse the full-on nationalism of the fans, the undulating flag-waving masses, the closest thing to a Nuremberg rally--witnessed every weekend. Sport was wholesome. Billy Sunday, popular evangelist in the 1920's, denounced drinkin' and card playin', but baseball was okay, even edifying. The Fellowship of Christian Athletes (1954) would also seem to adhere to this mode of thinking. The Promise Keepers, though not specifically a sporting group, is centered around the idea of masculinity and reclaiming one's role as a man: fit, rugged, head of the household. Telling that the groups was founded in 1990 by the head football coach at the University of Colorado. And this guy uses the Muscular Christianity heritage flat-out, athletic/spiritual metaphors abound, time to trim the "spiritual gut", etc. His program: "In short, it's a fitness program for men based on the example of Christ... "

Okay--now that we've placed the formation of Stade Toulousian into the context of rising fraternalism and Muscular Christianity, let's start that tour of images that we've associated with the logo of Stade Toulousian.

Healing Serpents

Let's begin with the chapel of the Black Virgin at the Daurade Basilica in Toulouse, where we find several serpent images. First, near the chapel, we find a depiction of the tablets of the Ten Commandments and a staff. A snake is coiled around the staff, which has the form of a tau. This refers to a curious incident in the Old Testament book of Numbers. In Numbers 21 the Israelites have just set out from Mount Hor by way of the Red Sea and, disheartened by their difficulties, speak reproachfully against God and Moses. So the lord sends fiery serpents among the people and many die from the bites. The people return to Moses and recognizing their sin, ask Moses to pray for a reprieve.

“And the LORD said to Moses, “Make a fiery serpent, and set it on a pole; and every one who is bitten, when he sees it, shall live”.

So Moses made a bronze serpent, and set it on a pole; and if a serpent bit any man, he would look at the bronze serpent and live.” (Numbers 21:8-9)

According to my annotated Bible this echoes the serpent magic practiced in the ancient world, e.g. Egypt. The bronze serpent, called Nehushtan, itself became an object of worship and the Israelites burned incense before it until the reign of Hezekiah, who broke it into pieces (2 Kings 18:4).

In Exodus 7:8-13, we find the famous story of Aaron’s rod. God instructs Aaron and Moses to impress Pharaoh by throwing down the rod, which becomes a serpent. Pharaoh has his sorcerers do the same, but Aaron’s rod swallows them up. The incident is repeated in the Quran, and many traditions developed around the rod, associating it not only with the Tree of Life, but the Cross. Indeed, Jesus himself makes the connection between the incident in Numbers and his own destiny: “And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.” (John 3:14-15). Its inclusion of the snake/tau image at the Daurade sanctuary thus refers not only to the healing powers of the Virgin but of redemption through Christ.

Another depiction of the serpent in the Daurade Basilica can be found in a massive oil painting of Mary as the Queen of Heaven. She has a halo of stars and stands upon an upturned crescent moon. In this image the snake is being vanquished. Mary’s right foot rests upon his head and his body seems uncomfortably pinioned underneath the moon. It is a common theme and is even in my own village of Aucamville, one can find a statue of Mary treading upon the wily Beast.

Initially I was baffled by these representations of the serpent, but an illuminating essay on Biblical typology by George P. Landow, Professor of Art History and English at Brown University, partially clears up the matter of the unusual imagery:

Certain problems arise in making representations of Genesis 3:15 since it comprises a prophetic, rather than an historic or legal, type…. One common solution is to combine two realistically depicted images in a realistic - that is, non-historical - manner. For example, mediaeval carvings of the Madonna which show her with one foot upon a serpent take Mary as the seed of the woman. These carved Madonnas offer visual images of a symbolic or spiritual act, since Mary nowhere in the Bible treads upon a snake. The artist therefore has juxtaposed two realistic images, one of Mary and one of a serpent. Whereas the pictorial representation of a legal or historical type depicts only those elements present in the type itself, this portrayal of a prophetic type conflates two times, for it includes the serpent from the Fall and Mary, mother of Jesus, in the same image. A second instance of such conflation of two times appears in those mediaeval Crucifixions that include a snake curled around the Cross. The snake rarely gives the impression of having been bruised, and only the viewer's knowledge of Genesis 3:15 explains its presence.

Genesis 3:15 then, is where God says to the serpent after Eve admits to eating of the apple: “And I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your seed and her seed; it shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel.” The logic of the paintings is thus explained, but the reason for the inclusion of the prophetic type in the Daurade remains elusive until we read on to 3:16: “To the woman he said “I will greatly multiply your pain in childbearing; in pain you shall bring forth children…”

Thus, the iconography of the chapel serves to remind the pregnant woman precisely why she suffers, and why the intercession of Mary is necessary. For Mary conceived without sin and gave birth to the Savior who, through his Sacrifice upon the Cross, gave humanity the opportunity of washing away their sins.

At the opposite end of the transept from the Black Virgin, there is a depiction of the Cross. As the Sacrifice of the Christ offers humanity the chance for salvation from sin, Mary offers the pregnant woman salvation from the punishment incurred through Original Sin as described in Genesis 3:16. In this chapel a cross with a tetragrammaton in glory has a snake coiled around it. We speculate that this connects the role of Christ with Mary; references the actions of Moses; calls to mind the intrinsic relationship between sin and the Trees of Life and Knowledge; and among other possibilities, reminds us of Christ as Healer.

Salvation Through Health

As the examination of the iconic serpent imagery in Daurade basilica shows, the serpent is a complex symbol associated with a variety of meanings; two common tanglings are religion and health. Thus, for example, we find the previously discussed tale of Moses' bronze serpent. Originally it healed, but as time went on, it was worshiped.

Likewise, Asclepius, the Greek god of healing, was symbolized by and often depicted carrying a wand or rod around which a serpent was wrapped. It is still used in medical symbolism today.

Another ancient symbol used in medicinal symbolism is the Caduceus, typically represented as a winged staff around which two snakes are coiled.

It often used interchangeably with the Rod of Asclepius, although the latter is considered more accurate despite the common usage of the Caduceus. The Caduceus has been linked with Tamit, the Phoenician goddess of the moon, but is more usually associated with Hermes, father of alchemy and known to the Romans of Mercury. In alchemy, the crucified serpent was used to represent making the elixir of mercury, a healing potion of sorts, which was made by removing the “volatile” element. The serpent represents the poisonous mercury held in check by the “soufre d’or” of the cross.

Predating both these rods, as well as that of Moses, is the Mesopotamian god Ningishzida. He was a god of healing; unless you prefer to think Western Civ and/or the Israelites grew up in a vacuum, it's hard not to see the link; the serpent(s) and stick represent healing and thus, health in general, and it has been with us from the farthest reaches of our symbolic history. Logos redolent of these ancient images proliferate from this image as far back as 2000 BCE.

The Salvation Army; plus obligatory Masonic References

Earlier, we tried to place the formation of the Stade Toulousian in an historical context fraternalism and Muscular Christianity. Other images come to mind. Check out the Crest of the Salvation Army, an image which we obviously associated with Stade Toulousian logo:

The Salvation Army was founded in 1878--right in the same time frame as the rise of rugby and other popular team sports. The Crest features a cross and crown reminiscent of those featured prominently on the early publications of experimental sects with radical health proscriptions: Christian Science (1879) and Jehovah’s Witnesses (1869). The Salvation Army, like the YMCA (and also, Alcoholics Anonymous) promotes the health of "mind, body and spirit." This three-part mission refers to Jesus' stages of development. This idea of progressing in steps or stages, passing rapidly through thresholds echoes the idea of ranks in the military and Scouting. In the logo a five-pointed crown is decorated with five gems and surmounted by five five-pointed stars. There are seven “shots” at the bottom of the crest which represent the seven truths of the Gospel. The S in the center wrapped around the cross represents “Salvation”. It also reads as a dollar sign and a snake on the cross. Spiritual hygiene for the armies of the Lord. Blood and Fire. The red and the black.

This cross and crown is also the symbol of the Masonic Knights Templar.

In addition to the Knights Templar, the 33 rays of the sun (count 'em) might be evocative of Freemasonry, to a mind so primed....

Freemasonry is, of course, much older than the Salvation or rugby or the YMCA, or the Scouts, but it is easy to imagine that any well-established fraternal organization, like Freemasonry or the Benedictines would have had a powerful influence (both directly and indirectly) upon a era so focused on joining and forming teams and organizations of men. The aforementioned Football Association was formed at pub called The Freemason's Tavern, later destroyed to build The Freemason's Hall, headquarters of the UGLE. Some people believe a baseball diamond is the Masonic square and compasses. Random we searches reveal that this guy's interests include Freemasonry and soccer. Freemasons even seem to have been pretty important in transmitting to us the lovely game of golf.

Which brings us to money, the filthy luchre of sport!

$: There is no other god but me

When we think of religion, how not but think of money money money. Actually, I didn't think that, but I did think that the pole and snake dance reminded me of the dollar sign--which is the next symbol to explore in our associational tour: Mr. Moneybacks. Ducks bathing in seas of golden coins. Silver, more likely, one theory is that the S and I comes from der silver mines in SLP. And that's San Luis Potosi not Salt Lake Punk. There are many other theories of its origin, but for us, we like the weirdo esoteric explanations, things we've touched on in LoS. This is because we wear sausage gloves.

Some say the dollar sign derived from the symbols of Hermes, god of tricksters, bankers and thieves. We've already talked about him. Supporters of this theory point to the image of the Caduceus Hermes often carries. Others point to an alchemical provenance; it has been used to represent cinnabar since the 18th century. You will remember the serpent and cross has other alchemical meanings. It may also derive from the Spanish coat of arms. Previously discussed due to the inclusion of the Pillars of Hercules, here draped with an s-shaped ribbon, the image evokes many LoSian themes....

Bringin' it All Back Home

[Sorry, D, but I didn’t come up with a snappy conclusion for this. In your earlier draft you’d mentioned in the intro that you were going to take us through Palestine? I didn’t get that, so I wonder it maybe you had some more associational images in mind. If so—it’d be pretty easy to keep tacking on more sections like we’ve done here, each section basically focusing on one or two images that you associated with the Stade Toulouse image. You’ve good work here! Keep at it! – gid]

And that's a good enough ending for me.