Notre Dame de la Daurade: The Black Virgin of Toulouse

Reprinted from the now-defunct Reticenteer, my old website, written in 2006.

More than 500 representations of the Virgin Mary in existence today are considered to be Black Virgins. Miraculous in their powers, they have long inspired—and continue to inspire—fervent devotion. Yet despite their number and the intensity of their following, much about their origins lies shrouded in myth and conjecture. Long ago, there were many more of these mysterious effigies, but several succeeding depredations have taken their toll. First came the 16th century Wars of Religion during which the Huguenots, in their iconoclastic fury, sent many to the bonfires. During the French Revolution, many more—including Notre Dame de la Daurade in Toulouse—were likewise destroyed. In our time, robbery has accounted for most of the losses, with the result that in some cases, Black Virgins have been locked away in their churches and chapels, unavailable for viewing by the general public. Some Black Virgins have fallen prey to the restorer’s hand; it has been discovered in many cases that a Black Virgin began life as a polychromatic one and was later—as often as the 19th century—painted black for reasons unknown. This does little, however, to clarify their mystery.

A Black Virgin is not simply a Virgin painted black. There are many representations of a dark Mary (and Jesus) in Africa, for example, or wherever there are dark-skinned Christians. Many of these depictions are recent and some are hundreds of years old, but they are not capital “B-V” Black Virgins in the sense of what we are talking about here. “Black Virgins” are found all over the world but have their origin in a European tradition, where most are found today, the highest concentration being the south of France.

What exactly then is a Black Virgin?

First and foremost a Black Virgin is identified by its dusky hue. It is usually of Medieval (or prior) origin and has a particularly devoted following due to its miraculous powers. Its origins are usually as obscure as its skin is dark. Myth has it that many of the Black Virgins were chanced upon in unlikely settings: in caves and grottoes, buried in the ground near springs or under bushes, hidden in trees. Often they were discovered by farmers plowing their fields. In some cases the farmers were alerted to its presence by the strange comportment of their animals, especially bulls, some refusing to cross the spot where a Black Virgin was buried, some seemingly attracted to the spot. Many of these Virgins were brought from the spot in which they were discovered and placed in a chapel, only to disappear from the chapel, somehow making their way back to whence they were discovered. The common thread of these legendary origins is an association with the earth and its life-giving waters, earth and vegetation.

Why are they black? Many writers have given a very prosaic explanation: being the object of such devotion, the years of exposure to incense and candle smoke have rendered some statues black. A fine, rational explanation that nevertheless fails to explain why only the skin of a Virgin turned black and left her garments multi-hued. Another explanation is that the pigment used for the skin, over time, due to either chemical reaction or decay, turned dark. This seems possible in some, but by far from all cases; there are simply too many for them all to have had this experience. This leaves us with hundreds of surviving Black Virgins whose color cannot be explained away by "physical" theories; we must thus look at other possibilities.

One theory is that the original Black Virgins were painted black under the influence of St. Bernard of Clairvaux (1090-1153), who in his numerous commentaries upon the Song of Solomon associated the phrase "I am very dark, but comely" (Song of Solomon 1:5) with the Virgin Mary. Bernard is known to have visited several shrines of Black Virgins (including that of Toulouse) and his theology emphasized an emotional, “earthy” connection with the Christ and the Virgin as opposed to the rationalist strain of Medieval thought exemplified by Abelard, Bernard's (vanquished) rival; Bernard played a crucial role in the development of the Marian cult and in the 11th century she became the most important intercessor between humanity and the Savior. In this vein, some go on to state that the Black Virgin represents something out of Templar and/or Cathar beliefs. Make of that what you will; for although Bernard was a supporter of the Templars, he preached vehemently against the Cathars.

Another theory is that the Black Virgins are black because they follow the iconography established by religious images of various goddess cults of the Pagan world, be they Celtic, Teutonic or Greco-Roman; in short, Black Virgins represent a Christianization of whatever Pagan traditions were already present in a given region. Especially prominent among these theoretical predecessors are Cybele, Artemis and the Magna Mater. This theory seems to hold considerable merit in that these goddesses were frequently represented as black, and that in sites where a Black Virgin is present, an older pagan tradition often exists. A goddess who bears an especially striking resemblance is Isis, who by the Hellenistic period had become so popular that many other goddesses, including those previously mentioned, became identified with Isis in her various aspects. In Isis’ iconography (a crown of stars, a starry cloak, a crescent moon) and her numerous titles (“Queen of Heaven”, “Our Lady of the Waves”) there are certainly enough correlations to support the theory that she is an important forerunner of Marian iconography. One often finds Hellenistic statues of Isis suckling a baby Horus on her knee that are indistinguishable from the Christian version of this iconography, and by the Hellenistic era this iconography was already venerable. Like Mary, Isis has been associated with the rose (i.e. Apuleius’ 2nd century novel The Golden Ass) and one of the standard flowers of Isis, the lily, has also been associated with Mary in the form of the fleur-de-lis and/or lilies themselves. Ean Begg suggests that the lily carried by Isis may be echoed in the baton sometimes carried by Black Virgins, including Notre Dame de la Daurade.

The original Daurade Basilica was built on the vestiges of a Roman temple to Apollo, endowed by Galla Placidia in about 415 CE and beginning life as the Saint-Mary Basilica of Toulouse.[1] Hereafter it served as a chapel for the Visigothic Kings of Toulouse. In the 9th century the church became part of a Benedictine monastery and in the 11th century a Romanesque nave was added. During the period of the troubadours, it was a center of poets and members of the Company of Gay Science, who held their jocs florals (floral games) in honor of the Black Virgin every May. The original cupola was destroyed in 1703 after threatening to collapse. A new dome was erected in 1760 but only a year later the whole building had to be demolished, the dome having compromised the integrity of the walls. Apparently during the demolition a statue of Aphrodite was found among the rubble. A reconstruction project began in 1764 but the ambitious plans were delayed and finally made impossible by the construction of the quays and walls of the Garonne River on which the Basilica sits. The plans had to be modified, and the nave of the original basilica serves today as the transept. Work on the project was interrupted again by the Revolution. As a consequence, the basilica, though dedicated by Pope Pius IX in 1876, was not finished until 1883.

In 109 CE, legend has it that the Roman Consul Cepio drained a lake at the site of the current Daurade Church looking for the legendary “gold of Toulouse” taken from Delphi by the Volcae Tectosages[2], uncovering a statue of Pallas Athena in the process. (Athena, incidentally, was one of the goddesses sometimes represented as black).

According to Wikipedia:

The name Delphoi is connected with δελφός delphus "womb" and may indicate archaic veneration of an Earth Goddess at the site. Apollo is connected with the site by his epithet Δελφίνιος Delphinios, "the Delphinian", i.e. either "the one of Delphi", or "the one of the womb."

Also of interest is that Daurade suggests dorée or dorada, which in French and Spanish, respectively, translate to “golden,” or more specifically “gilded.” Many statues of Athena are known to have been gilded. Historical documents at the present church suggest that the name Daurade referred to brilliant frescoes that adorned the original church; certainly, no less apt a name could be applied to the current edifice, which is, save the brightly-colored altar to the Black Virgin, as dark and gloomy a church as I have ever visited. Gilded black Athenas aside, it is worth noting that the discovery of the precursor to Notre Dame de la Daurade conforms to the pattern we find in other Black Virgin origin stories, and that it was made while searching for a treasure associated with a place etymologically connected to the womb.

In any event, this statue was installed in the temple where it rested until the site became Christianized under the patronage of the aforementioned Galla Placidia in 415 CE. At this point the histories are unclear, and myth and history collide. Was the original statue of Athena re-consecrated as a Black Virgin, or was a Black Virgin dedicated that recalled this earlier effigy? We cannot say for sure, and in the 14th century this original was stolen and immediately replaced by another effigy, which, if we are to believe an inscription found underneath the current solce, was sculpted in Auch.[3] By the 17th century Notre Dame la Brune (the Brown)—was known as Notre Dame la Noire, after two hundred years of candle smoke supposedly further darkened the statue. During the Revolution her cult was forbidden, but her following was so strong that the authorities were forced to reauthorize it. However, in 1799 the effigy was burned on Place Capitole after public demonstrations of devotion by her followers alarmed the police. Another reproduction was carved from memory in 1807. One can only assume the memory was very faulty, because the current Virgin bears no resemblance whatsoever to a 14th century Christian icon. For an idea of what she looked like, we look to the Black Virgin of Solsona, in Catalonia, which was made in Toulouse and is believed to resemble the 14th century Virgin of the Daurade.

Notre Dame de la Daurade is especially protective of children, pregnant women and ensures safe childbirth—so much so that another one of her titles is Notre Dame des Bonne Couches (Our Lady of Good Childbirths)—and votive plaques to this effect cover the walls of her chapel to this day. Many other Black Virgins have the same power and not surprisingly, we find this attributed to many Goddesses of the Classical world, such as Diana/Artemis. Notre Dame de la Daurade has an uncommon but not unique feature in that she is draped in an actual dress, which is changed according to the season. In times past women could “rent” her belt to ensure a particularly fast and painless delivery.[4] This very specific detail is recorded in cults dedicated to Hera and, tellingly, Isis.

Notre Dame de la Daurade has other powers. She has often been called upon in periods of drought to bring rain, which is in keeping with her role as a fertility figure. The last time a procession with the effigy was held for this purpose was in 1790—in the thick of the Revolution. She could also offer protection from other threats. Crowds were said to gather around her when Simon de Montfort laid siege to Toulouse in 1218 (apparently it worked; Simon was crushed by a stone launched by a catapult tradition says was operated by a team of women). In 1630, during a procession referred to as the “Descent of Notre Dame de la Daurade,” her image was carried in procession when the plague threatened the city. Again, in 1672, a procession with the effigy saved the Saint-Michel neighborhood from being destroyed by a fire. Two paintings in the church commemorate this event. In our own era, on August 15, 1944, the people of Toulouse carried her through the streets to pray for deliverance from the Nazi occupation.

The Basilica of the Daurade sits on the Garonne River just to the south of the plaza bearing its name. Although the façade is quite monumental (albeit unremarkable) and of a classical order, the front doors are rarely open and most people pass by without even looking up. Because the façade faces a narrow street on the other side of which sits the river, the casual passerby is given little opportunity to remark upon its existence; I imagine that many assume the church is part of the fine arts school to which it is attached. One enters the church by an unassuming hallway on the north side of the nave. The unprepared visitor is in for a shock, however, because the interior is much larger than one might anticipate, highly decorated but utterly gloomy. In fact, the chapel of Notre Dame de la Daurade is the only colorful place in the basilica.

The chapel of Notre Dame de la Daurade occupies the southern end of the transept. The effigy itself surmounts an altar decorated with lily motifs. Even the lamps to either side of the statue are suspended from brackets formed to look like lilies. The altar is made out of ceramic, and the wall behind the effigy is made up of a mosaic depicting God the father and a host of angels. The Black Virgin herself stands upright with the infant Jesus upon her left arm. She holds a baton stiffly in her right arm. Her body is draped with a real dress, which upon every occasion I can remember has been blue. Postcards in the church, however, depict a yellow dress; I am told that the dress is changed according to the season. Both Mary and Jesus are crowned, and an ovaloid halo of stars surmounts the pair.

Perhaps the most curious motif of the chapel is the serpent, which is repeated in at least six separate images throughout the basilica. The most striking is a mosaic on the floor directly underneath the Virgin. The mosaic depicts a jaunty fellow, his tongue flickering over the apple. The symbol of the serpent is repeated on a relief, which adorns the right pier that forms a kind of entrance to the chapel. In this the monogram of Mary is surmounted by a crown and radiates rays of light; four cherubs look on. Underneath is an upturned crescent moon around which the serpent has wrapped itself.

Directly across from this relief is another depicting the paraclete, emitting rays of light, descending upon a lily—one must assume Mary—held by a disembodied hand. Six cherubs look on

The serpent appears in other contexts. Around the corner from the relief of the hand and the lily, we find a depiction of the tablets of the Ten Commandments and a staff. A snake is coiled around the staff in 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 recognize their sin and 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 Pharoah by throwing down the rod, which becomes a serpent. Pharoah 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 at the Daurade sanctuary thus refers not only to the healing powers of the Virgin but of redemption through Christ.

Serpents were widely associated with healing in the ancient world. 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.

At the northern end of the transept, in the position analogous to that of the relief depicting the monogram of Mary, we can find a cross emitting rays of light. The serpent is wrapped around the base of the cross. Five cherubs look on.

The final depiction of the serpent is located behind the altar in the apse. Here we find 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.

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 own 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.

Sources:

Begg, Ean. The Cult of the Black Virgin. London: Penguin Arkana, 1996.

Cassagnes-Brouquet, Sophie. Vierges Noires. Rodez: Editions du Rouergue, 2000.

Daurade Basilica, Corendal Art’Toulouse. http://www.corendal.com/java-corendal/arttoulouse/monuments/detail/?monumentid=APPL-MONM-8 (last visited December 11, 2005).

Delphi, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Delphi (last visited December 11, 2005).

Landow, George P. Victorian Types, Victorian Shadows; Biblical Typology in Victorian Literature, Art, and Thought. Boston and London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1980. 1998 web version: http://www.victorianweb.org/religion/type/ch4e.html (last visited December 11, 2005).

The New Oxford Annotated Bible with the Apocrypha, New Revised Standard Version. Oxford University Press, USA, 1977.

Notes

[1] Galla, daughter of Emperor Theodosius and half-sister of Emperors Honorius and Arcadius, was a devout Christian and endowed many churches, especially in Ravenna. Her connection with Toulouse stems from her marriage to Athaulf in 414, brother of the Visigothic King Alaric who sacked Rome in 409 and took her hostage in that year or in 410.

[2] Tolosa was the capital of the Volcae Tectosages from sometime in the 3rd century BCE until conquered by Julius Caesar in 52 BCE.

[3] The inscription reads “Maître Raynaud me fit de sa main à Auch.” (Master Raynaud made me by his hand at Auch). The text appears to be in 14th century lettering and is all that remains of the first copy.

[4] The belt, now housed in the Musée National des Arts et Traditions Populaires (Paris) is inscribed with the words: “O Marie, Divine Mére, Priez pour Moi. Protegez-Moi.” (O Mary, Divine Mother, Pray for Me. Protect Me.)

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.

"Everything begins in mysticism and ends in politics."

Here's a little ditty that brings together a few recurring LoS themes and fancies:  snakes, wimmins, a triangle, political vandalism, violence, sculpture....

It all begins with a quotation from a fellow by the name of Charles André Joseph Marie de Gaulle, known as "Chucky D" to his pals, not to be confused with Public Enemy front-man "Chuck D".   Actually, I just made that up.  One of his nicknames was, however, "the great asparagus."  Which just goes to prove that truth is stranger than fiction.

Flag of Free France; Wikicommons

Nous dirons à la France, simplement, comme Péguy : « Mère, voici vos fils qui se sont tant battus ». General de Gaulle, June 18, 1942

 

The line comes from Charles Peguy's poem Ève (1913).  Péguy was an ardent socialist and nationalist (two words which never sound well together) and later in his short life became a devout and mystical Catholic.  He wrote a play Le Mystère de la charité de Jeanne d'Arc that first appeared in 1910.  Joan of Arc, as we have already seen, remains a potent nationalist symbol in France.  He also had a special fondness for the Virgin Mary; indeed, he spent the night before his death decorating with flowers a small statue in the village where he was stationed.  Despite his devotion to Eve, Jeanne d'Arc and the Virgin, he was killed by a shot in the forehead on the eve of the battle of the Marne on September 5th, 1914.

Charles De Gaulle was evoking Péguy in 1942 to honor the volunteers who fought for Free France. In 1948 a monument was created for these volunteers, the centerpiece of which is a massive bronze sculpture by Antoine Bourdelle, student of Rodin and native of Montauban (prefecture of the department in which I live). Péguy's words "Mère, voici vos fils qui se sont tant battus", undoubtedly because of de Gaulle's speech, are etched on the front.

Appropriate line from a poem (Ève) which also includes the lines:  "Happy are those who die for the carnal earth/ but only if it be for a just war."  I've also come across another interesting piece of information about Peguy's poems here (no author listed):

"The arms of Jesus are the Cross of Lorraine / Both the blood in the artery and the blood in the vein, / Both the source of grace and the clear fountain" (from La Tapisserie de Sainte Geneviève, 1912). Noteworthy, during World War II the Cross of Lorraine was used as the symbol of the forces of Free France. Both the Resistance and the Vichy government cited Péguy's patriotic writings.

The same article also has the following quote:

"Faith is a great tree, an oak tree rooted deep in the heart of France", Péguy wrote in Le mystère des Saints Innocents (1912). 

This is very prophetic, if only a prophecy by coincidence.  The name "de Gaulle" is said to come from either "gaule" a long pole which was used in the Middle Ages to beat olives from the trees, or "galle" which in the language of Asterix means "oak", the sacred tree of the Druids.  One could argue that de Gaulle was France's mighty oak in the storm, rooted deeply and keeping the faith of a Free France alive.  Interestingly, the lance, or long pole (gaule) of the sculpture honoring the fighters of Free France is adorned with olives.  Another prophetic coincidence.  The statue dates from 1922.


Bourdelle's "La France," fourth copy, Paris.  LoS photo.

Peguy's lines translate into ""Mother, behold your sons who have fought so hard."  This line undoubtedly refers to the crucifixion of Jesus as described in John 19 (KJV): 

26 When Jesus therefore saw his mother, and the disciple standing by, whom he loved, he saith unto his mother, Woman, behold thy son! 27 Then saith he to the disciple, Behold thy mother! And from that hour that disciple took her unto his own home. 

Indeed the statue features a stylized representation of the crucified Jesus, on an inverted triangle.  I'm not sure why or if there are other examples of this symbolism.  Its inclusion here is certainly to link Peguy's lines to the Crucifixion, thus effectively linking the dead of the Free French Forces ("FFL" in French) to Jesus' martyrdom.  Thinking back to Ève, which begins "Happy are those who die for a carnal earth", one is reminded of the Beatitudes, which begin with either "Blessed are the...." which some translate as "Happy are the...." 

La France, detail.  LoS photo.

We have discussed the serpent quite a bit.  Here it could refer back to the story of Moses in the desert, quoted by Jesus:  14 And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up: 15 That whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have eternal life. (John 3, KJV) or the conflation of Biblical types indicating that ultimately, the crucifixion was a victory over Satan. 

But the snake isn't looking very vanquished here.  Indeed; it seems to be quite friendly with the woman.  As wee have seen, Péguy seems fascinated by sacred women and in the "trinity" mentioned above, Eve and the Virgin are linked by the serpent, a link explicitly referred to in French Marial iconography.  As Eve is ostensibly responsible for mortality and the need for sexual intercourse to reproduce, Mary, with a sex-free conception, gave birth to the perfect man who could return us to immortality. "If you believe in that sort of thing," to quote my childhood hero Indiana Jones.  (See my essay here for more on this). 

But perhaps this is pushing it a bit far, as I've read else where that the woman is Athena.  Thus the serpent might represent Erichthonius, of whom Athena is the adoptive mother.  According to the tale, Hephaestus once tried to rape Athena and some semen shot onto her thigh.  She flicked the offending glob onto the ground.  It was from this that Erichthonius was born.  There are variations upon this tale.  Erichthonius may be the snake that accompnaied Athena, a mythical ruler who may have been half-serpent or, in a variation, was once seen with a snake coiled about him.  Thus in this context the serpent may represent wisdom or Athena's unviolated purity.  This would be in keeping with a nationalist rhetoric, or to commemorate the Resistance to foreign invaders.

La France, detail.  LoS photo.

I would also comment on the gesture in this statue.  It is said to be Athena scanning the horizon, but it also forms a kind of salute.  There is something of her gesture of the Venus of Lloret, although I may be pushing this a bit to far.  In that post I discussed that both Venus and Athena, according to some legends, were born as fully-grown, independent women.  This would also fit into a nationalist identity; the statue is called "La France" after all, and it is no one's child.

I found quite a bit more about this statue on a website containing extracts of an article originally appearing in Memoire Vive (2010), the journal of the Centre de Documentation Historique de l'Algérie.  I have translated and summarized the important bits as follows.

 

In 1922 or thereabouts, the French government decided to erect a monument commemorating the arrival of American troops at the end of WW1, in 1917.  It was to be built near Bordeaux and two architects (Ventre and Damour) thought about placing "La France" in front of a lighthouse, scouring the horizon for the arrival of allied troops.

Bourdelle was eventually chosen to execute the work and after some equivocation he took up the task.

The statue was to be 9 meters high, 3.4 meters wide and 1.4 meters deep.  Bourdelle chose to represent France with Pallas Athena in her aspect as warrior goddess, enveloped in snakes, allegedly representing wisdom, but which may have Biblical implications or involve metaphors of purity.  She indeed seems to be holding her arm up as if to look into the distance.  She has a shield and lance, this latter adorned with olive branches of peace (recall that "de Gaulle" may come a word for a pole used to beat olives from trees).

His niece served as the model for the figure, although it was apparently his secretary who posed for the arms.  It is said that when the latter asked why she was enveloped in snakes, Bourdelle smiled and said:  "As they say in France, be careful of the Americans."  (DSK would concur.  Come to think of it, both his tales of woe and Athena's involve an incriminating glob of semen....)

Apparently, four bronze examples of "la France" were made from the original models.

One was used by Bourdelle for his First World War memorial in Montauban.  I'm not sure when it was made, but the memorial was dedicated on November 13, 1932.  It is currently located on the esplanade of the Cours Foucault (pictured here).

Another decorated the entrance to the Grand Palais during the exposition of decorative arts in 1925.  It was stored away waiting for a planned museum of modern decorative arts and it lay there, abandoned.  It was later discovered by the mayor of Birançon, who contacted the artist's widow in order to acquire it for his town.  This one measured 4.55 m in height and was placed on the porch of the local Chateau, gazing over the peaks of the Alps. (pictured here).

In 1938, another example was placed at the exit of the train station of the Bois de Boulogne to salute the arrival a visit by English royals.  The exact location remains unknown and it would appear that this was in fact a gilded plaster copy destined for the Palais de Tokyo, later to become the Museum of Modern Art.

The copy which started this whole post, number four, was erected on June 18, 1948 to commemorate the "appel du 18 juin," the speech by de Gaulle in which Péguy was quoted.  It was erected at the instigation of General de Larminat, president of  the Association des Français Libres.  This rests upon a socle with a plaque honoring the memory of those who fought for Free France, adorned with the Cross of Lorraine.  It replaced the gilded plaster copy while awaiting work yet to be completed, an Apollo by Charles Despiau. 

That same year, de Larminat honored the FFL and colonel Colonna d'Ornano, killed in action in 1941, by placing a similar plaque on the socle of the Algiers version. It reads:

" Mère voici vos fils qui se sont tant battus

Aux volontaires des Forces Françaises Libres morts

pour l'honneur et la Liberté de la France

18 juin 1940, 9 mai 1945 "

This third version (1935) measured 9 meters (high, I assume) and had originally been placed at the entrance of the "foire d'Alger." After the foire, it was put on the terrace of the Musée de Beaux-Arts, where she scrutinized the Mediterranean.  This one has the most storied history. 

As a symbol of de Gaulle, the statue was blown up on the evening of November 26, 1961 by the OAS (Organisation armée secrète), a far-right group who despised de Gaulle for what they perceived as his treason towards Algeria, then a French Department, after his actions led to Algerian independence in 1962.  The socle was pulverized and the statue damaged. 

After this symbolic attack, the pieces were collected and stored until the statue could be repaired.  The French ambassador obtained permission to recover the statue but the French administration refused to pay for the transport cost, instead foisting the responsibility upon Paris' Bourdelle museum.  It was eventually taken to be repaired but the part of the support which depicted the snakes, as well as that part of the lance which held the olive branches, were too damaged to be repaired.  This lance was later sawed down in order for it to fit inside the museum of the Saint-Cyr Coëtquidan military academy.  A fitting tribute...this was where de Gaulle earned the nickname "the great asparagus."  Full circle.

La France, version three: 
http://www.cheminsdememoire.gouv.fr/page/affichelieu.php?idLang=fr&idLieu=781

So, it took some digging but some interesting facts have been brought to light.  The version I saw seems largely forgotten, not quite as honored as her sisters elsewhere.  As I studied this curiosity, kids skateboarded below and a couple of French hipsters cadged cigarettes while a few yards away, hordes of people stood in line for the Basquiat expo.  Which somehow seems a fitting example of another Péguy quote:

"It will never be known what acts of cowardice have been committed for fear of not looking sufficiently progressive."