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Iconographie funéraire romaine et société

 | 
Martin Galinier
, 
François Baratte

Contextes archéologique et iconographique

The Mythology of Everyday Life

Michael Koortbojian

for Michael Fried

Texte intégral

An earlier version of some of this material was presented at the Berkeley symposium, “Flesheaters”, in 2009; my thanks to C. H. Hallet and T. J. Clark, on that occasion, for the invitation to a highly stimulating event, and to all those who participated, especially B. C. Ewald and R. Bielfeldt, whose perceptive criticisms greatly improved the paper that was subsequently given at Perpignan. To M. Galinier and F. Baratte, our hosts at Perpignan, and to all those in attendance whose comments have improved this final version, I am equally indebted. The dedicatee will, I trust, accept this as a token of enduring friendship.

I

  • 1 Relief of Ti. Claudius Dionyos: Kleiner, 1987, 107-9; Sinn, 1991, 67. Capitoline Selene and Endymio (...)

1During the course of the second century, the fashion for mythological imagery as a means of celebrating and commemorating the dead emerged as the dominant trend on Roman sarcophagi. One of the many varied aspects of this gradual change in funerary practice is the recognizable manner in which myth endowed an old repertory of “real life” images with new contexts and new meanings. So, for example, the charming image on the tomb relief of Ti. Claudius Dionysos, in which Claudia Prepontis watches over Claudius’ slumbering form [ill. 1], is given new evocative power and grander emotional force when this conjugal scene is recast in the mythological counterpart of its composition, Selene’s discovery of the sleeping Endymion [ill. 2]1. For the mythological image brings with it a full narrative of its protagonists’ love and the endlessness of Selene’s nightly “discovery”–a narrative not only familiar from images and texts, but one whose significance in the funerary context was readily, albeit variously, comprehended. Yet, conversely, it was only against the background of such scenes of “real” conjugal tenderness as we find on Claudius Dionysos’ relief – “real” scenes for which the Selene and Endymion story offers itself as an analogy or correlative– that the mythological image might claim its full purchase and attain its most profound effect.

ill. 1 - Ti Claudius Dionysos relief (Vatican); photo: Nathan Dennis.

ill. 2 - Endymion sarcophagus (Museo Capitolino); photo: DAIR neg.

ill. 3 - Bologna stele with shepherd (Museo Civico, Bologna); scan: Museum, Bologna RSC_0271.

Life and Myth

  • 2 Susini, 2001[= 1958]; Susini in Susini; Pincelli, 1960, 8-10; Corbier, 2006, 244-5 and fig. 130a.
  • 3 Sic tibi, quae votis/optaveris, Omnia/cedant, studiose /lector, ni velis/titulum violare/meum. (“Th (...)
  • 4 Cf. the fragmentary relief from Sulmona, where the motif of the shepherd and his flock appears to s (...)

2A reciprocity between life and myth, and its role in the funerary art of the Romans, constitutes the first of this essay’s claims. Such an interplay between the appearance of certain aspects of “real life” on the earlier forms of commemorative monuments and what emerged on the new narrative sarcophagi is found on other examples, as well. An unusual North Italian stele, now in Bologna [ill. 3], displays a pastoral scene of a swineherd and his pigs2. Unfortunately, the monument’s precise significance is lost to us. Its verse inscription is entirely formulaic3, and offers no explicit information about the deceased; but its relief, which so eloquently speaks of that rural care so central to the Vergilian tradition, was surely meant to evoke –along with whatever else– a sense of that peaceful, indeed primordial harmony between man and nature that served as a palpable metaphor of happiness4.

ill. 4 - Pisa Muses/Bucolic sarcophagus (Pisa); photo: DAIR neg. 77.268.

  • 5 Arias et al., 1977, 53-4; Koortbojian, 1995, 81-2.
  • 6 Cf. Himmelmann, 1974, 156-8, for a relationship with Verg., G. II. 458, and for the clipeus portrai (...)

3The same topos also makes its appearance in the Endymion repertory [ill. 2]; but perhaps more telling is the role it plays on an unusual sarcophagus, now in Pisa [ill. 4]5. Here, set in contrast to a gathering of the muses, the image of the shepherd and his flock–which so evidently belongs to the same tradition as that on the Bologna stele–takes on added significance. The fundamental difference between this sarcophagus’ two vignettes, bucolic and mythic, is underscored by the relief’s juxtaposition of a perspectival landscape and an abstract screen of isolated foreground figures. Visually distinguished in this fashion, the two vignettes’ allusions to a contrast between pastoral care and intellectual sustenance evokes nothing so much as the contrasting spheres of nature and culture, and those values that the Romans associated with each of these realms6. Here, detached from both “real life” and mythic narrative, their form –their conspicuous mode of presentation and the juxtaposition of their incommensurate subjects– suggests the abstract, indeed intellectual basis of the sarcophagus’ message: the deceased figured in the medallion is to be understood as having lived in a delicate harmony of both of these spheres. Thus, the two scenes, drawn from life and from myth, comment on each other, reciprocally: while the presence of the shepherd and his flock demands that we view the muses in relation to social life, conversely, the appearance of the muses imbues such a scene of “everyday life” with the character of myth.

ill. 5 - 2nd Ti Cl. Dionysos grave altar with dextrarum iunctio; scan: Koln FA 1178-08_21604.

ill. 6 - Vatican Protesilaos sarcophagus; scan: D-DAI-ROM-72.612.

ill. 7 - Vita Romana (General’s) sarcophagus with portraits (Mantua); scan: D-DAI-ROM-62.126.

  • 7 Dextrarum iunctio: Reekmans, 1958; Davies, 1985; Saladino, 1995. Julio-Claudian grave altar from th (...)
  • 8 Rome, Antakya, and Damascus sarcophagi: Koch-Sichtermann, Abb. 287, 456, and 463, respectively.

4Now, many other examples of such calculated reciprocity between life and myth present themselves amid the sarcophagus repertory. Various elements of the ubiquitous and long-standing iconography of civic life find their analogues on the mythological reliefs. Thedextrarum iunctio, that staple of military fides, known, perhaps most famously on the Esquiline tomb painting, could, by extension, signal matrimonial concordia, whether on the grave altars of a husband and wife [ill. 5], or interpolated within the narratives of myth, as on the Vatican Protesilaos sarcophagus [ill. 6]7. Sacrifice, so essential to all aspects of Roman religious life and a fundamental element of the vita romana repertory [cf. ill. 7], is performed by winged putti on a clippeus sarcophagus in Rome [ill. 8], and by Cupid and Psyche on a casket in Antakya. And, in a similar fashion, just as the capture of prisoners so often figured as part of the vita romana cycle, erotes enact the scene on a fragmentary relief, now in Damascus8.

  • 9 Cf. the treatment in Grassinger, 1994.

5Yet perhaps the most general and striking index of this interpenetration of life and myth is the imposition of portraits on so many of the protagonists on the mythological sarcophagi [ill. 6, 15]. The change of style from the rest of the reliefs’ elements that is displayed so often by these portraits not only suggests that the scenes replicate established models –with respect to style as well as iconography– but that both artists and patrons had little concern about the clash of appearances that results from the portraits’ imposition. In such instances we are confronted with a fundamental –although little recognized– paradox: on the one hand, an intensification of individuation realized by the superimposed portraits of the deceased, and, on the other –simultaneously– a de-personalization of those individuated men and women elevated in the formulaic guise of the exemplary protagonists of myths, by which they are subsumed and whose themes they allegorize9.

ill. 8-Clippeus sarcophages with putti clasping hands (in Rome); scan: D-DAI-ROM-36.238.

  • 10 Reinsberg, 2006.
  • 11 Rodenwaldt, 1935; idem 1940.

6Much the same may be said about the role of portraits on the so-called “Generals’ sarcophagi” [ill. 7], on which the formulaic scenes in the life of a Roman commander are similarly individuated in their appearance, yet not in their stereotypical message10. As Gerhardt Rodenwaldt demonstrated long ago, the conventional scenes of aristocratic public life that appear on these sarcophagi have been drawn from the state monuments and the coinage, yet there is nothing that compels us to regard them in their new context as a literal rendition of any particular individual’s bios11. Indeed, the formulaic character of these images on the sarcophagi, and, in particular, their synoptic narrative of multiple scenes, paratactically arranged, often in a hierarchical as opposed to chronological sequence, argues strongly against such particularization. Rather, on these sarcophagi such scenes of the vita romana served as expressions of those larger social ideals that were the focus of their patrons’ aspirations, and this essentially allegorizing character of their imagery, in which individuality gave way to conventionalized types, when coupled with the reliefs’ format and intended context –identical to those of the mythological reliefs– established an implicit reciprocity between the two repertories, Menschleben and mythological.

7Thus, two conclusions suggest themselves. First: just as the Endymion sarcophagi [ill. 2] expand upon, one might say aggrandize, the image of Ti. Claudius Dionysos [ill. 1], and conversely, Claudius’ image contextualizes our understanding of the Endymion tale as an allegory, so the “General’s” sarcophagi [ill. 7] suggest a similar relationship with those “official” monuments from which their imagery derives and upon which they elaborate. On the “General’s” sarcophagi, the imagery derived from state art aggrandizes the individual’s social role, while the commemorative force of its new funerary context, universalizes that very imagery. Hence, a second conclusion: it was the early mythological sarcophagi, with their multiple scenes and their manifestly allegorical intention, that not only legitimated, but provided the model for both the formal character of the later vita romana series and the grander, universalizing response to, and interpretation, of its imagery. For such a “mythic” quality was equally essential to the funerary context and commemorative purpose of both the vita romana and the mythological repertories.

ill. 9 - Dining sarcophagus (Vatican); scan: D-DAI-ROM-90.413.

ill. 10 - Hunting sarcophagus (Copenhagen); scan: D-DAI-ROM-2001.2253.

ill. 11 - Bucolic idyll sarcophagus of Iulius Achilleus (Vatican); photo: DAIR neg.1939.1.

ill. 12 - Intellectual life sarcophagus (Rome, Museo Torlonia); scan: D-DAI-ROM-8026.

ill. 13 - Rinucini sarcophagus (Berlin); photo: Antikenmuseum inv. 1987.2.

The Symbolism of the Vita Privata

  • 12 Demythologization: Koortbojian, 1995, 138-40 with earlier bibliography; Ewald will treat the proble (...)

8The same sense of reciprocity between myth and life may be seen to have been at work on the large repertory of non-mythological sarcophagi that began to emerge towards the end of the 2nd century and to flourish during the 3rd. These reliefs, characterized by what is widely known as “demythologization,” abandoned the imagery of the literary and legendary past in favor of representations drawn –presumably– from everyday life: dining [ill. 9], hunting [ill. 10], or bucolic idylls [ill. 11], and intellectual life [ill. 12] –were chief among its themes12. But despite our conventional categorizations, on the sarcophagi all of this imagery still belonged to the world of metaphor, and all of these “real life” themes were aggrandized in their portrayal at the tomb so as to function –and to be comprehended as– symbols.

  • 13 “Calculus of virtues”: I adapt a formula from D’Ambra, 1996.

9Recognition of the inherent symbolism of these daily life scenes was, once again, the legacy of the mythological reliefs–and this forms the basis of the second of this essay’s claims. For over two generations, the mythological sarcophagi had conveyed what we might call a “calculus of virtues,” a series of recognizable thematic elements whose broad significance epitomized established social values13. Many of the “demythologized” sarcophagi elaborated this precedent in striking fashion. Excerpted from everyday life, many of the themes evoked by the new imagery drawn from the vita privata and re-contextualized in the funerary sphere also functioned as symbols, elevated in an extravagant stereotypicality –and this is the crucial point– elevated as if to the status of myth themselves.

  • 14 Brilliant, 1992; Blome, 1992; Zanker (50-2) and Ewald (292-4) in Zanker; Ewald, 2004.

10This emerges most explicitly when such elements, ostensibly drawn from life, were set in opposition to one another, or to the myths. The Rinuccini sarcophagus, now in Berlin [ill. 13], whatever interpretation we might offer for its distinctive conjunction of life and myth, provides us with the most well-known example14. But our concern is with its basic structure, with the conjunction and contrast of images drawn from life and from myth, and the many correlatives this relief has within the broader corpus of sarcophagus imagery.

ill. 14 - Vita romana sarcophagus with, clippeus and Mars & Rhea; photo MNR.

ill. 15 - Vatican sarcophages with Mars/Rhea and Selene/Endymion; photo: DAI inst. Neg. 74-535.

ill. 16 - Marriage and Dioscuri sarcophagus (Florence); scan: D-DAI-ROM-75.230.

ill. 17 - Hunting/Learning sarcophagus (Berlin); scan: Art Resource 418795.

ill. 18 - Vita activa/vita contemplative sarcophagus (Naples); photo: DAI inst. Neg. 63-635.

11Several examples must suffice. Similar in structure and conception, if, however, not in form, is another sarcophagus [ill. 14] that combines the standardized elements of the vita romana repertory with a mythological vignette; in the context of its imagery of marital concord and duty towards the gods, one wonders if the image of Mars’ approach to the sleeping Rhea was not intended to suggest the deceased’s continuing devotion to the wife he has left behind–a possibility perhaps reinforced by the myth’s conjunction on the famous Vatican sarcophagus [ill. 15] with Selene’s visit to Endymion. Not unrelated is the pairing of the marriage vignette with the Dioscuri [ill. 16], in which both the “real life” and mythological motives are intended to evoke concordia.

  • 15 Schmidt, 1993.

12If we return once again to the Pisa sarcophagus [ill. 4], we recall that complimentary values might be signaled by different motifs. And much the same structure can be seen to be at work, even without explicitly mythic elements. Scenes of hunting and intellectual life [ill. 17]15, or of hunting and bucolic repose [ill. 18], might similarly be juxtaposed to suggest the contrasting virtues of the vita activa and the vita contemplativa.

ill. 19 - Cava dei Tirenni; scan: D-DIA-ROM-67.591.

ill. 20 - Female huntress sarcophagus (Rome, San Sebastiano); scan: D-DAI-ROM-79.1849.

  • 16 Numerous examples of each in Amedick, 1991.

13Or, what appear to be related vignettes within a visualized narrative [ill. 19] may well be understood similarly, as figuring the virtue of ritual obligation and the pleasures of its accomplishment –of officium and a subsequent gaudium. Even single themes –such as the conclamatio or those representing childhood– whose appeal to “real life” seems all the more palpable, nevertheless suggest, in their very stereotypicality, that social conventions are here epitomized16. As such images served as analogies for whatever might actually have transpired in specific instances in the lives of individuals, on the sarcophagi they were offered as allegories of the meanings of everyday existence, and were intended to call to mind not only the social customs they depict, but the values attached to them –perhaps nowhere more so than with scenes of the pleasures of drinking and dining. What is striking is the broad applicability of all such scenes, an expansive purchase that was surely a major factor in their wide appeal, for this imagery was limited neither to a specific gender, nor to a particular social class.

14The claim made here is that the depiction of everyday life--its social forms, its behavioral categories, and its most basic and characteristic activities –asserted itself as a new form of myth, what has here been called “the mythology of everyday life.” Now, the exemplary character of such images has seldom been in dispute; what must be insisted on is not only that there is nothing essentially “private” about such imagery –indeed, quite the contrary– but that the conventional notion of “demythologization,” while convenient to signal the abandonment of Greek myth on the sarcophagi, fails to account for the validity of what should properly be regarded as the articulation of a new commemorative repertory of images better suited to the representation of distinctly Roman values. Moreover, this new repertory, no longer tied to social class by its imagery, was thus open to ever-greater diversity by means of the expanded range of vignettes that might be juxtaposed.

ill. 21 - Metropolitan Endymion sarcophagus: rear, with horses; scan: Art Resource 422266.

  • 17 Amedick, 1991, Kat. no. 167; Andreae, 1980, Kat. no. 150; cf. a similar huntress on a sarcophagus a (...)

15One further example [ill. 20] shall, hopefully, lend some validity to such a claim for an imagery of Roman mythos17. This is, of course, not an image of a social role drawn from real life: hunting was not a woman’s role. Nevertheless, when understood symbolically, this, like most of the motives of this new, “demythologized” imagery, offered the flexibility, and the adaptability, that Greek myth had long provided for the allegorization of a mundane existence. Thus, amidst the sarcophagi’s “calculus of virtues,” many aspects of life could be held to evoke commonly held virtues and the values associated with them, and these might serve in the elaboration of what we should consider as a new, Roman mythos: what has here been called the “mythology of everyday life”.

II

  • 18 The widely-held rejection of the sarcophagus imagery’s relationship to the afterlife is due largely (...)

16Several questions arise. In the context of the tomb, were these images of this life intended to evoke some sense of the next? What do we know about how the ancients imagined what lay, unknown, beyond the boundary of this mortal world? Why is it that the ordinary doings of everyday existence should have seemed appropriate metaphors of an unknown afterlife? And why, when set in the context of death and the afterlife, should such everyday imagery be regarded as the equivalent of myth? With respect to all these questions, certain things may be said about the imagery on the sarcophagi and their symbolism with at least some small confidence18.

Visions of the Afterlife

  • 19 Cf. CLE 1233 = CIL III. 686, 12: et reparatus item vivis in Elysiis; CLE 1189.16: vivis in Elysium; (...)

17The Romans, like the Greeks before them, conceived the afterlife in numerous forms, often contradictory: the imagery revolves around the polarities of light/dark, bliss/misery, and so on. A sense of the full gamut is recounted, most famously, in Aeneid VI, where Vergil describes the hero’s passage through the bleak terrors of the Underworld, and his arrival at the shining amoena virecta fortunatorum nemorum sedesque beatas (Aen. VI. 638-9), the Elysian fields. The poet’s hopeful vision is a pastoral realm, of shaded woodlands, whose meadows and banks are forever refreshed by streams (673-5), where unyoked horses pasture amidst the fields (652-3) –a vision not unknown on the sarcophagi [ill. 21]19.

ill. 22 - Underworld sarcophages in Villa Giuli; scan: D-DAI-ROM-7312.

  • 20 Underworld sarcophagus in the Villa Giulia: Sichtermann in Koch; Sichtermann, 1982, 189 and notes ( (...)

18Just as well known were the Underworld’s horrors, and they too found form in the funerary sphere with the stories of the Danaids, Oknos and the ass, Cerberus, Kairos, as well as Chronos and Aion [ill. 22]20.

19Despite this contrast of positive and negative visions, in both instances we deal with metaphors, albeit metaphors conveyed in distinctly different modes. While the pastoral example illustrates, one might say, literalizes, in the most general form, several of those same underlying metaphors by means of which Vergil defined Elysium, the Underworld sarcophagus depicts a series of recognizable mythical protagonists whose narratives, when they are recalled to mind, serve as the visual equivalents of figures of speech for future torments. Lucretius makes this abundantly clear when he speaks of the imagery of hell:

As for all those torments that are said to take place in the depths of Acheron, they are actually present here and now, in our own lives. There is no wretched Tantalus, as the myth relates, transfixed with groundless terror at the huge boulder poised above him in the air. But in this life there really are mortals oppressed by unfounded fear of the gods and trembling at the impending doom that may fall upon any of them at the whim of chance (III. 978-83, tr. R. Latham).

  • 21 Lattimore, 1962, 159-71.
  • 22 Hades as “the unseen”: Beekes, 1998, on *a-wid-; noted in Bremmer, 2002, 4. Imagery of the Afterlif (...)

20For Lucretius (who goes on to cite Tityos, Sisyphus, Cerberus and the Furies), these are metaphors for the travails of mortal existence. Yet the reverse was equally true in antiquity, for a whole host of figures stood for the unknown quality and character of the afterlife yet to come: a voyage, sleep, the dark of night, or an eternal home21. It is thus hardly surprising that the images of the Roman repertory for the beyond –positive or negative– were drawn from life, and served as metaphors for the unknown to come. Indeed, the name Hades itself is associated, etymologically, with “the invisible” or “the unseen”22, and in the face of the seeming finality of death, such metaphors drawn from everyday existence offered solace with the familiarity of their imagery and the hope that all that we know of this life might not cease to be.

  • 23 Repertory: Rumpf, 1939; not specific stories: Zanker in Zanker; Ewald, 2004, 117-77, esp. 173.
  • 24 Rightly pointed out in Brandenburg, 1967, whose analysis is nonetheless undermined by a failure to (...)
  • 25 Gegenwelt: Muth, 2000.
  • 26 Cf. again, Brandenburg, 1967, for an emphatic denial of the imagery’s funerary significance on the (...)

21Much the same may be said, mutatis mutandis, for a positive image such as the Seathiasos [ill. 23]. Its early predominance amid the sarcophagus repertory provides another visualization of a possible metaphor of the afterlife. Like much of the Dionysiac series, to whose themes it is clearly related, the Seathiasos’ status as an aspect of Greek myth is unusual, in that it is not comprised of specific stories that are the mainstay of the mythological tradition23. Nor do these Meerwesen reliefs depict a journey to the Underworld; nor does their imagery evoke in any palpable fashion the fate of the soul24. Nevertheless, with their watery imagery, the charm of their hybrid creatures, and the cavorting of their amorous couples, these images do evoke those well-known metaphors of the afterlife –the “Blessed Isles” or the “Realm of Ocean” (cf., for example, Horace’s fluctus Stygiis and insulae divitiarum [C. IV. 8.25-7])– and thus suggest that such representations were intended to stand, not merely in contrast to mortal existence (as a Gegenwelt), but to vividly signal, by means of such clichés, the continuation of this life’s sensual pleasures in the next25. The fact that such imagery makes its appearance in the domus as well as the tomb underscores rather than contradicts such a view, as the particular context informs these images’ capacity to suggest, on the one hand, the pleasures of this life, and on the other, that of the next. And thus acknowledgement of these images’ metaphorical structure compels that one reject both the minimalist view that their subject matter is merely decorative and its counterpart, that such imagery is the expression of established beliefs about the future26.

22Such a “funerary” interpretation might hold equally, and generally, with respect to the imagery of “everyday” life. The pleasures of dining suggest the same sort of double appropriateness to both home and tomb –despite their customary association with the Epicurean strains of Horace’s carpe diem [C. I. 11], or their primacy amid Lucretius’metaphors of men’s happy existence, when reclining at banquet, “goblet in hand and brows decked with garlands”, they regale each other about the brevity of life (III. 912-15). The inscriptions on several well-known funerary monuments make this plain. For example, a conventional claim that one should enjoy these pleasures now, for nothing better is yet to come, is proclaimed in the epitaph of Flavius Agricola, who declares:

Tibur mihi patria, Agricola sum vocitatus,
Flavius idem, ego sum discumbens ut me videtis,
Sic et aput superos annis quibus fata dedere
Animulam colui, nec defuit umqua(m) Lyaeus...
Amici, qui legitis, moneo, miscete Lyaeum
Et potate procul redimiti tempora flore
Et venereos coitus formosis ne denegate puellis:
Cetera post obitum terra consumit et ignis.

  • 27 CIL 6.1785a = CE 856, with Häusle, 1980, 98-99; Koortbojian, 2005, 301 (commentary and bibliography (...)

(“Tiber was my home, I am called Agricola, also Flavius. I am reclining here for you to see. In this fashion, and in those past years which the fates gave me, I cultivated my soul, and never lacked Lyaeus [wine]... Friends, you who read this, I admonish you, mix wine, and drink from afar, crowning your temples with flowers, and don’t deny sex to beautiful girls: Whatever else is [left] after death, the earth and fire consumes”)27.

23While the text admonishes the living to take their enjoyments while they can, the reproach belies a paradox. For the inscription is unambiguous: while Agricola speaks–in the present tense–of the pleasures of his former life, here in his tomb, as if from beyond the grave, his recumbent portrait statue is meant to recall his lifetime example. At Agricola’s tomb, his claim to posterity in time-honored Epicurean fashion –that death consumes all– is gainsaid by an imagined form for his continued existence.

24Compare the tomb inscription of Gaius Rubrius Urbanus, which describes him thus:

Qui dum vita data <e>st sempter vivebat avarus heredi parcens, invidus ipse sibi, hic accumbentem sculpi genialiter arte se iussit docta post sua fata manu, ut saltem recubans in morte quiescere posset securaque iacens ille quite frui. Filius a dextra residet qui castra secutus occidit ante patris funera maesta sui. Sic quid defunctis prodest genialis imago? Hoc potius ritu vivere debuerant.

  • 28 CIL 6.25531 = CLE 1106; trans. from Stenhouse 2002, 302, slightly adapted; cf. Koortbojian, 2005, 2 (...)

(“He, who, while life was granted him, always lived as a miser, parsimonious to his heir and envious even of himself, ordered that after he met his fate he should be artfully carved reclining here amiably, by a skilled hand. This was so that at least recumbent in death he might be able to rest, and reclining, he might enjoy peace and quiet. His son, who died following the camp before the sad last rites of his father, sits to his right. And so what do the dead have to gain from this amiable image? They should rather have lived in this way”)28.

  • 29 See Panofsky, 1992, 36, on the simultaneous assertion of prospective and retrospective points of vi (...)
  • 30 Cf. Friedlander, 5.285, concerning funerary inscriptions that display “the lowest and most degenera (...)

25This epitaph is explicit: in contrast to Agricola’s claim that in the image on his tomb he appears just as he had when he enjoyed the fruits of life, Urbanus’ inscription accompanies an image of his reclining form that is explicitly intended to depict him not as he lived, but resting in a fashion that only death had afforded him. So, both Agricola’s and Urbanus’ monuments, each in its own way, simultaneously portrayed these men, retrospectively, as if still alive, and prospectively, as if reclining happily in their new state29. Both offered a way to think about what was yet to come at the close of this life –and did so with an imagery that was eminently recognizable to all. Thus it is mistaken to regard such funerary monuments merely as simple, and perhaps naïve, expressions of those Epicurean doctrines about the finality of death to which they often clearly allude: for on these tombs, the deceased is imagined as speaking from beyond the grave30. Yet neither these monuments, nor the sarcophagi, are, in any strict sense, illustrations of religious beliefs. The well-worn metaphors and “poetic clichés” to which they give form are merely expressions of the most mundane kind of hope in the face of the unknown. Just as in the case of the Meerwesen sarcophagi [ill. 23], here the fate of the dead is conceived as a continuation of present pleasures that are projected onto the future: the consolation for the living is that, while an afterlife might be unknown, the dead are imagined as happy, and represented as such –in imagery all might understand.

  • 31 Cf. Panofsky, 1992, 29, on the reclining figures atop Etruscan urns: “they represent an attempt to (...)

26Thus, once again one recognizes how the early sarcophagi’s mythological imagery, such as that of the Meerwesen, has established a model for the interpretation of the broader thematic range of the later repertory. Those many other images drawn from everyday life with which we have been concerned follow this same logic. These scenes of hunting, of philosophy, or of the pleasures of the table [ill. 10, 12, 9], display a series of positive images of the enjoyments of this life, yet in their sepulchral settings these images were not merely retrospective: as we have seen, in the context of the tomb they also might evoke an equally pleasurable afterlife–and this was the basis for their powers of consolation31.

ill. 23 - Sea-thaisos sarcophagus; scan: Koln Mal 1636-03_17553,02.

Tranquility in the Ordinary

27A concern with the possibility of an afterlife, just as with what has been called here “the mythology of everyday life,” belongs properly to philosophy. For images of the familiar and the ordinary have a long and venerable history, not only as visual or literary metaphors for the afterlife, but as objects of philosophical inquiry, since it is the problem of the real nature of those myriad objects and experiences of everyday life that commands philosophical scrutiny. Thus the metaphors –or, one might say, the exempla– of philosophy provide a corollary to those we have examined amid the funerary representations on the sarcophagi –and it to these we now turn, in order to understand how and why the ordinary might serve to represent, more broadly, the problem of the certainty of our knowledge, and more specifically, of whether or not such knowledge might extend to the question of what awaits us after death.

28Among the most heated debates among the philosophical schools were those devoted to whether or not real and certain knowledge might be attained from experience. This had, as one of its corollaries, the question of whether or not such experience ceased, like sensation, with death. For instance, Epicurus could famously reject any belief in the afterlife, and claim that “death was nothing to us” (Ep. Men. 124 = Lucr. III. 830); conversely, Sextus could respond that this was merely a dogmatic assertion of certainty in the face of a long cultural and literary tradition to the contrary (G 270‑78). Indeed, for the Skeptics, an uncertainty about the experience of death was no different from their views about any other experience, and thus, Sextus would respond that “not even death can be deemed something by nature dreadful, just as life cannot be deemed something naturally fine. None of these things is thus and so by nature: all are matters of convention and relative” (PH 3.232).

  • 32 Thus Sextus: “No one disagrees concerning the fact that the underlying object (tà hypokeimenon) app (...)
  • 33 “Adhering then, to appearances, we live in accordance with the normal rules of everyday observances (...)

29The purpose of the Skeptics’ questioning, as it focused philosophical scrutiny on all perceived appearances, as perceptions, was to undermine the possibility of forming a sufficient judgement about their reality –for appearances varied32. This they demonstrated by a series of general arguments to suggest that our sense-impressions of how the world appears not only may differ, for a variety of reasons, but are substantially independent, literally “outside of,” any true predicate of such experience (tà ektòs hypokeímena). Thus, one might hold that, in a very limited way, these sense-impressions represent the world to us all, since the true character of those ostensible objects of our experience is neither demonstrably identical with their appearance to us, nor susceptible to judgement –and thus the objects of philosophical investigation remain fundamentally unknown. The intended result was to bring about a suspension of judgement (epoché), the sole method by which the philosopher might achieve tranquility (ataraxia). So, in the face of contradictory accounts of the objects of their philosophical scrutiny, the Skeptics claimed that certainty –about the afterlife just as about anything else– was unobtainable, and thus tranquility, not knowledge, became their professed goal. As a result, they resolved to experience the world without such knowledge, forced to accept that they lived amid the ordinary and the everyday33.

  • 34 For example, with respect to our view of the world around us (“the same tower from a distance appea (...)

30Here we find the philosophical parallel to the everyday imagery of the afterlife. As the very nature of the Skeptic’s method of inquiry required exemplification, one might say, representation, all of their examples of the uncertainty of what appears to us concerned everyday matters34. Tranquility of mind depended on an acceptance of what is familiar, precisely because, in our engagement with life’s very ordinary everydayness, we are, in fact, untroubled and unperturbed by the paradoxes of experience. Scrutiny of the familiar brought understanding and –for the Skeptics– not only a suspension of judgement but a sense of tranquility that allowed one to live without certainty. This is the technical, philosophical counterpart to the purely secular, commonplace vision offered by sarcophagi’s imagery of everyday life and the consolatory power of their representations. Yet the question that still remains to be answered is why this should be so.

The Equivalent of Myth

31Representations have the capacity to exercise our understanding and, ultimately, to bring us pleasure by means of a particular form of aesthetic scrutiny, and in this fashion the ordinary character of so much of what constitutes our everyday existence might be transformed into the object of profound contemplation. So, in the specific case of the sarcophagi, contemplation of the everyday might lead to understanding, such understanding might prove consoling, and consolation in turn, might offer the gratification that brings relief. But why?

32Aristotle, in a famous passage in the Poetics, made the general case directly:

Everyone delights in representations. An indication of this is what happens in fact: we delight in looking at the most proficient images of things which in themselves we see with pain, e.g., the shapes of the most despised wild animals and of corpses. The cause of this is that learning [= the exercise of the understanding] is most pleasant, not only for philosophers but for others likewise (but they share in it to a small extent). For this reason they [= all men] delight in seeing images, because it comes about that they learn as they observe, and infer what each thing is, e. g. that this person [represents] that one (Poetics 48b6-16, tr. R. Janko; cf. similarly, Rhet. 1371a30-1371b11).

33But Aristotle goes on to point out that representations give different kinds of pleasures depending on whether or not they are familiar:

For if one has not seen the thing [that is represented] before, [its image] will not produce pleasure as a representation, but because of its accomplishment, colour, or some other such cause (48b17-19).

  • 35 Cf. De Memoria 450b20-31, where Aristotle makes plain that one is capable of seeing an image as an (...)
  • 36 Poetics 59b18-30; cf. 60a13-18 on the question of staging Homer’s description of Achilles’ pursuit (...)

34Here one sees the relevance of these ideas to the imagery of everyday life: the recognizable character of representations gives pleasure on account of its very recognizability –we enjoy representations when we recognize them as such; all the rest, whatever its interest, is mere artifice35. Yet recognizable in what sense? Aristotle was aware of certain constraints that applied to some arts and not to others. Epic, unlike tragedy, did not require the visual enactment of its subject matter on the stage, with all the limitations that entailed, and thus epic held far greater scope for the diversity of its narrative structure, for the representation of the marvelous, and for the evocation of phantasiae36.

  • 37 The early mythographers had similar scruples about verisimilitude: see Cameron, 2004, 90-1.

35The chimerical Mischwesen of the Seathiasos sarcophagi [ill. 23] posed this very problem. Their parts were recognizable, yet such composite creatures belonged, not to this world, but to the mythic past and those literary accounts that preserved it; as Lucretius would say, “they were certainly not formed from life, since no living creature of this sort ever existed” (IV. 739-40). While Horace would famously declare that poets, just like painters (and, by implication, sculptors, as well), had the right to dare to compose such examples of the marvelous, such freedom had its limits: to their detriment would the poets recount that “the wild would mate with the tame... snakes with birds, lambs with tigers” (AP 12-13); with respect to their painted equivalents, Vitruvius would simply declare such things “monsters” (VII. 5.3)37.

36By contast –and here we return to our imagery of everyday life– those sarcophagi of dining, of hunting, of pastoral pleasures or of intellectual life– all this imagery provided a repertory of recognizable activities, which, in their differing spheres, constituted the mortal pleasures, par excellence. What the sculptors and patrons of the sarcophagi realized –as had Aristotle, in his own way, long before– was that all of these activities not only give pleasure when we perform them as participants, but give pleasure when we discover them as the subjects of representations. Their ordinary, everyday-ness is elevated to a new status by its transformation into a work of art: when the context in which such things are experienced changes, when they form the matter of representations, when we experience them as representations –when they might thus elicit a new form of scrutiny with its concomitant understanding and consequent satisfactions.

  • 38 This and the following adapts Assman, 1997 [1992] and Hölscher, 1988, Hölscher, 1995.

37It is in this manner that such everyday images may be held to constitute the equivalent of myth. Over time these images became the codification of much of what ancient society held –consciously and explicitly– to be of significance for itself. As the matter of everyday existence, these images served to convey the forms and structures of communal practice, whose effectiveness, as modes of unification and integration, vouchsafed their status as fundamental aspects of cultural knowledge. And when embedded in new contexts that facilitated new scrutiny, such images helped to transform the very mundanity of their subject matter and to allow them to assume their generalizing character, so that they might not only exemplify fundamental social values, but grant that rapport between images and values a permanent status by their continued role in the formation and performance of public ritual38.

38Employed in society’s rituals, such representations became the objects of aesthetic, if not philosophical, scrutiny, and thus were acknowledged, as a result, as cultural symbols. Thus, in the funerary context scenes of dining, of hunting, of reading –indeed, of all aspects of everyday life– did not merely represent personal memories about a particular deceased individual, but elevated those memories as an exemplary vision for society as a whole. The carefully constructed imagery on the sarcophagi was devised to celebrate individuals –whether according to the norms of social virtues or the evocative power of Greek mythology–, individuals who epitomized those aspects of ordinary existence that gave life value, that conferred on society its structures, and that imparted a sense that this had always been the case, from time immemoriam. From this perspective, one sees that the imagery emblazoned across the fronts of the sarcophagi –sarcophagi of every type, mythological and non-mythological– was never designed to illustrate beliefs or doctrines, theological or philosophical, in any systematic manner. This imagery was a complex fabric of metaphors, by means of which ideas, behaviors, and rituals associated with aspects of both ordinary life and the wondrous character of myth might be elevated by their representation so as to convey to the future society’s communal vision –or visions– of itself.

39Thus, one recognizes that the mythology of everyday life emerged as forms of life and forms of art intersected, when, amid the full panoply of ordinary existence, elements of experience were reforged by social practice and granted exemplary status by the new functions they were enlisted to serve and the new contexts in which such functions took form. Such an intersection is apparent in the relationship between the visualization of the undying devotion of Claudia Prepontis for her husband, Claudius Dionysos [ill. 1], and their parallel forms on the Endymion sarcophagi [ill. 2]; it is perhaps even more recognizable in the imposition of the portraits of an unknown husband and wife on the Vatican Rhea Silvia/Endymion relief [ill. 15]. The refashioning of life in works of art is equally revealed by the juxtaposition of the varying image repertories so as to evoke the vita activa and contemplative [ill. 4, 17, 18], in those that comprised the highly codified “biography” of the Roman Feldherren [ill. 7], in the charismatic images of Bera, bequeathed to the future in the persona of a hunter [ill. 20], or of so many deceased Romans [ill. 9], remembered for all time amidst the pleasures of the table. All constituted visions of the beyond, and all of these, displayed on the sarcophagi, were merely expressions of what has been called here the “mythology of everyday life”. This “mythology” was, at its heart, a claim that life’s everyday pleasures –of drinking and dining, of hunting, of contemplation– were the best one could look forward to, because they were the best that the living might know. That what awaited the dead was familiar was a thought –indeed, a myth– that was surely consoling, and one that offered relief from worry about what lay beyond the boundary of this mortal world.

III

40Finally, it may be acknowledged that more recent philosophy is perhaps even more suited to our purpose than ancient, and more pointedly enlightening. For in some modern discussions we find the varied strands of the foregoing arguments intertwined to similar effect–and it is to these, in conclusion, that we turn.

  • 39 Cavell, 1979, primarily on Wittgenstein’s ideas of “everyday” language; cf. Cavell, 1994.

41In the writings of Ludwig Wittgenstein are found continuing ruminations on the question of “everyday-ness”, as a matter of language and of life in general39. With respect to both, Wittgenstein conceived of the ordinary as if it were hidden from us on account of its very simplicity and familiarity. Among numerous examples, we find the following:

  • 40 Wittgenstein, 1998, 63-7e (written, 1930).

Nothing could be more remarkable than seeing someone who thinks himself unobserved engage in some quite simple everyday activity. Let’s imagine a theater, the curtain goes up and we see someone alone in his room walking up and down, lighting a cigarette, seating himself, etc. so that suddenly we are observing a human being from outside in a way that ordinarily we can never observe ourselves: as if we were watching a chapter from a biography with our own eyes, –surely this would be at once uncanny and wonderful. More wonderful than anything that a playwright could cause to be acted or spoken on the stage. We should be seeing life itself. –But then we do see this every day and it makes not the slightest impression on us!... only the artist can represent the individual thing so that it appears to us as a work of art... The work of art compels us –as one might say– to see it in the right perspective, but without art the object is a piece of nature like any other...40

  • 41 For an attempt, see Fried, 2008, from which the preceding example is drawn.

42A full and adequate account of this passage is beyond both my means and our purpose41. Nevertheless, it is clear, at the very least, that for Wittgenstein this fundamental invisibility of the everyday was overcome by its representation, representation in which its very ordinariness might be recognized as worthy of profound attention –attention that might transform everyday actions and events, rendering them, as he says, “uncanny and wonderful at the same time (unheimlich und wunderbar zugleich)”. For Wittgenstein, such works of art offered the opportunity for an all-too-rare “unbiased vision” of “life itself (das Leben selbst)”.

43This, as should by now have become clear, is the philosophical correlative of the claim made here for the sarcophagi with scenes from everyday life, and their elevation of their paradigmatic scenes to something like the status of myth. On these works of art, in the context of the tomb, one was intended to comprehend the representation of those enduring values central to, and epitomized in, everyday existence.

  • 42 Wittgenstein, 1960, 129 (written 1933-4).

44But the parallel with Wittgenstein’s thought may be pressed even further, and returns us to the question of consolation –albeit consolation in a much broader sense. For in his attempt to ascertain what it means to recognize that which is familiar– Wittgenstein’s example is no less mundane than what is at stake in distinguishing an ordinary pencil – he asserts that the feeling produced by such familiarity is relief; he concludes, “Now isn’t this feeling of relief just that which characterizes the experience of passing from unfamiliar to familiar things”42?

45It was in precisely this sense that the ancient monuments that appealed to the “everyday” effected a vision of an unknown afterlife, how they rendered it knowable, and how that experience brought consolation. This was the profound effect of the “mythology of everyday life”.

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Notes

1 Relief of Ti. Claudius Dionyos: Kleiner, 1987, 107-9; Sinn, 1991, 67. Capitoline Selene and Endymion sarcophagus: Sichtermann 1992, Kat. no. 27. Other aspects of the relationship between the grave altars and the sarcophagi are discussed in Junker 2005/2006.

2 Susini, 2001[= 1958]; Susini in Susini; Pincelli, 1960, 8-10; Corbier, 2006, 244-5 and fig. 130a.

3 Sic tibi, quae votis/optaveris, Omnia/cedant, studiose /lector, ni velis/titulum violare/meum. (“Thus, to you, who read [this inscription] with care, would be granted everything that you will have desired, as long as you do not violate my epitaph”).

4 Cf. the fragmentary relief from Sulmona, where the motif of the shepherd and his flock appears to signal a pastoral existence forsaken: Felletti Maj, 1977, 127-8 and fig. 36; the slab’s fragmentary inscription is CIL I, 2, 1776 = IX, 3128 = ILLRP 975 = Buecheler, CLE, no. 184: [Ho] mines ego moneo ni quei diffidat {sibi} (“I warn all men, lest one despair of...”).

5 Arias et al., 1977, 53-4; Koortbojian, 1995, 81-2.

6 Cf. Himmelmann, 1974, 156-8, for a relationship with Verg., G. II. 458, and for the clipeus portrait as the “9th muse”; Andrew Stewart has pointed out to me the similarity with Hesiod (cf. Theogony, 1-35).

7 Dextrarum iunctio: Reekmans, 1958; Davies, 1985; Saladino, 1995. Julio-Claudian grave altar from the Museo Nazionale Romano: Helbig, III, no. 2296 (E. Simon); Felletti Maj, 318 and fig. 149. Vatican Protesilaos sarcophagus: similar interpretation in Davies, 1985, 636; Zanker (101) and Ewald (doc. 35) in Zanker; Ewald, 2004.

8 Rome, Antakya, and Damascus sarcophagi: Koch-Sichtermann, Abb. 287, 456, and 463, respectively.

9 Cf. the treatment in Grassinger, 1994.

10 Reinsberg, 2006.

11 Rodenwaldt, 1935; idem 1940.

12 Demythologization: Koortbojian, 1995, 138-40 with earlier bibliography; Ewald will treat the problem in a forthcoming article. Survey of the monuments and cogent discussion of the problems they pose in Brandenburg, 2004.

13 “Calculus of virtues”: I adapt a formula from D’Ambra, 1996.

14 Brilliant, 1992; Blome, 1992; Zanker (50-2) and Ewald (292-4) in Zanker; Ewald, 2004.

15 Schmidt, 1993.

16 Numerous examples of each in Amedick, 1991.

17 Amedick, 1991, Kat. no. 167; Andreae, 1980, Kat. no. 150; cf. a similar huntress on a sarcophagus at Nieborow Schloss (Poland): Birk, 2011, 248 and fig. 7.10; Sande, 2009.

18 The widely-held rejection of the sarcophagus imagery’s relationship to the afterlife is due largely to the criticisms of Cumont 1942 in Nock, 1946; cf. the related arguments in Brandenburg, 1967; recently, questioned, cautiously, by Zanker in Zanker; Ewald, 2004, 128; 132-3. Muth, 2000 acknowledges the imagery’s polyvalence. On the sarcophagus imagery of the afterlife, Schauenburg, 1995 and, recently, Galinier, 2009.

19 Cf. CLE 1233 = CIL III. 686, 12: et reparatus item vivis in Elysiis; CLE 1189.16: vivis in Elysium; cf. Lattimore, 1962, 313 and n. 92. Pastoral Sarcophagus: rear panel of the Endymion sarcophagus in New York (Sichtermann, 1992, Kat. no. 80).

20 Underworld sarcophagus in the Villa Giulia: Sichtermann in Koch; Sichtermann, 1982, 189 and notes (with bibliography); cf. further, 189 n. 11, for a now lost sarcophagus depicting Protesilaos and Laodameia, Herkles and Cerberus, Danaids, Odysseus and Sirens, Satyr and Maenads; Ewald, 1998, 239 n. 17 (as a “pasticcio”).

21 Lattimore, 1962, 159-71.

22 Hades as “the unseen”: Beekes, 1998, on *a-wid-; noted in Bremmer, 2002, 4. Imagery of the Afterlife: overview in Toynbee, 1971; Lattimore, 1962 [1942] treats the inscriptions; and recently, Chaniotis, 2000 on the Greek material in particular. Contradictory metaphors: Panofsky, 1992 [1964], 17-18. Cf. Cole, 1993 on the absence of unambiguous eschatological implications in later (Roman) Dionysiac tradition when compared to the explicit evidence for the underworld on the famous “Golden Tablets” (on which see Graf, 1993).

23 Repertory: Rumpf, 1939; not specific stories: Zanker in Zanker; Ewald, 2004, 117-77, esp. 173.

24 Rightly pointed out in Brandenburg, 1967, whose analysis is nonetheless undermined by a failure to appreciate the fundamentally metaphorical character of this imagery; cf. his dismissal of “poetic clichés” (206).

25 Gegenwelt: Muth, 2000.

26 Cf. again, Brandenburg, 1967, for an emphatic denial of the imagery’s funerary significance on the grounds that it cannot be construed as either a literal illustration of any of these operative metaphors (journey to the Underworld, the Iles of the Blessed, etc.) or, as a result, as a believable manifestation of Jenseitsglauben, Glaubenvorstellungen, or Jenseitsvorstellungen; Brandenburg, 2004, mainly concerned with the 4th century sarcophagi, is less polemical. For his claim about the basically decorative character of the imagery, see especially Brandenburg, 1967, 220-1, with its implicit dismissal of the significance of context; cf. the persuasive arguments for the significance of the funerary context in Zanker, 2000.

27 CIL 6.1785a = CE 856, with Häusle, 1980, 98-99; Koortbojian, 2005, 301 (commentary and bibliography); Zanker in Zanker; Ewald, 2004, 158-9.

28 CIL 6.25531 = CLE 1106; trans. from Stenhouse 2002, 302, slightly adapted; cf. Koortbojian, 2005, 299 (commentary and bibliography).

29 See Panofsky, 1992, 36, on the simultaneous assertion of prospective and retrospective points of view.

30 Cf. Friedlander, 5.285, concerning funerary inscriptions that display “the lowest and most degenerate form of Epicureanism”.

31 Cf. Panofsky, 1992, 29, on the reclining figures atop Etruscan urns: “they represent an attempt to depict the future by perpetuating the appearance of the present”.

32 Thus Sextus: “No one disagrees concerning the fact that the underlying object (tà hypokeimenon) appears to be of this or that kind; the question is whether it really is such as it appears to be” (PH 1.22).

33 “Adhering then, to appearances, we live in accordance with the normal rules of everyday observances, undogmatically, without holding opinions, seeing that we cannot remain wholly inactive” (PH 1.23); cf. Diogenes Laertius IX. 62, for Aenesidemus’ comment about Pyrrho that “it was only his philosophy that was based upon suspension of judgement, and that he did not lack foresight in his every day acts”. For the “ordinary life” as a response to the charge of apraxia, see Thorsrud, 2009, ch. 9; Fine, 2003.

34 For example, with respect to our view of the world around us (“the same tower from a distance appears round, yet square when near” [I. 118]); with respect to the different roles of our senses (“honey seems to some pleasant to the tongue, but unpleasant to the eyes; so that it is impossible to say whether it is absolutely pleasant or unpleasant” [I. 92]); with respect to the apparent nature of things themselves (the marble of Taenarum “seems white when planed, but in combination with the whole block... appears yellow” [I. 130]); or with respect to the state and circumstances of the observor (children “are all eagerness for balls and hoops, men in their prime choose other things, and old men yet others” [I. 106]).

35 Cf. De Memoria 450b20-31, where Aristotle makes plain that one is capable of seeing an image as an image, as well as seeing it “as” the mimesis of something. For some of the philosophical problems involved, cf. Wollheim, 1980.

36 Poetics 59b18-30; cf. 60a13-18 on the question of staging Homer’s description of Achilles’ pursuit of Hektor. Phantasiae: discussion in Koortbojian, 2005.

37 The early mythographers had similar scruples about verisimilitude: see Cameron, 2004, 90-1.

38 This and the following adapts Assman, 1997 [1992] and Hölscher, 1988, Hölscher, 1995.

39 Cavell, 1979, primarily on Wittgenstein’s ideas of “everyday” language; cf. Cavell, 1994.

40 Wittgenstein, 1998, 63-7e (written, 1930).

41 For an attempt, see Fried, 2008, from which the preceding example is drawn.

42 Wittgenstein, 1960, 129 (written 1933-4).

Table des illustrations

Légende ill. 1 - Ti Claudius Dionysos relief (Vatican); photo: Nathan Dennis.
URL http://books.openedition.org/pupvd/docannexe/image/7111/img-1.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 188k
Légende ill. 2 - Endymion sarcophagus (Museo Capitolino); photo: DAIR neg.
URL http://books.openedition.org/pupvd/docannexe/image/7111/img-2.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 192k
Légende ill. 3 - Bologna stele with shepherd (Museo Civico, Bologna); scan: Museum, Bologna RSC_0271.
URL http://books.openedition.org/pupvd/docannexe/image/7111/img-3.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 112k
Légende ill. 4 - Pisa Muses/Bucolic sarcophagus (Pisa); photo: DAIR neg. 77.268.
URL http://books.openedition.org/pupvd/docannexe/image/7111/img-4.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 292k
Légende ill. 5 - 2nd Ti Cl. Dionysos grave altar with dextrarum iunctio; scan: Koln FA 1178-08_21604.
URL http://books.openedition.org/pupvd/docannexe/image/7111/img-5.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 104k
Légende ill. 6 - Vatican Protesilaos sarcophagus; scan: D-DAI-ROM-72.612.
URL http://books.openedition.org/pupvd/docannexe/image/7111/img-6.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 128k
Légende ill. 7 - Vita Romana (General’s) sarcophagus with portraits (Mantua); scan: D-DAI-ROM-62.126.
URL http://books.openedition.org/pupvd/docannexe/image/7111/img-7.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 136k
Légende ill. 8-Clippeus sarcophages with putti clasping hands (in Rome); scan: D-DAI-ROM-36.238.
URL http://books.openedition.org/pupvd/docannexe/image/7111/img-8.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 280k
Légende ill. 9 - Dining sarcophagus (Vatican); scan: D-DAI-ROM-90.413.
URL http://books.openedition.org/pupvd/docannexe/image/7111/img-9.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 136k
Légende ill. 10 - Hunting sarcophagus (Copenhagen); scan: D-DAI-ROM-2001.2253.
URL http://books.openedition.org/pupvd/docannexe/image/7111/img-10.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 180k
Légende ill. 11 - Bucolic idyll sarcophagus of Iulius Achilleus (Vatican); photo: DAIR neg.1939.1.
URL http://books.openedition.org/pupvd/docannexe/image/7111/img-11.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 152k
Légende ill. 12 - Intellectual life sarcophagus (Rome, Museo Torlonia); scan: D-DAI-ROM-8026.
URL http://books.openedition.org/pupvd/docannexe/image/7111/img-12.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 156k
Légende ill. 13 - Rinucini sarcophagus (Berlin); photo: Antikenmuseum inv. 1987.2.
URL http://books.openedition.org/pupvd/docannexe/image/7111/img-13.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 148k
Légende ill. 14 - Vita romana sarcophagus with, clippeus and Mars & Rhea; photo MNR.
URL http://books.openedition.org/pupvd/docannexe/image/7111/img-14.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 236k
Légende ill. 15 - Vatican sarcophages with Mars/Rhea and Selene/Endymion; photo: DAI inst. Neg. 74-535.
URL http://books.openedition.org/pupvd/docannexe/image/7111/img-15.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 212k
Légende ill. 16 - Marriage and Dioscuri sarcophagus (Florence); scan: D-DAI-ROM-75.230.
URL http://books.openedition.org/pupvd/docannexe/image/7111/img-16.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 328k
Légende ill. 17 - Hunting/Learning sarcophagus (Berlin); scan: Art Resource 418795.
URL http://books.openedition.org/pupvd/docannexe/image/7111/img-17.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 208k
Légende ill. 18 - Vita activa/vita contemplative sarcophagus (Naples); photo: DAI inst. Neg. 63-635.
URL http://books.openedition.org/pupvd/docannexe/image/7111/img-18.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 184k
Légende ill. 19 - Cava dei Tirenni; scan: D-DIA-ROM-67.591.
URL http://books.openedition.org/pupvd/docannexe/image/7111/img-19.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 172k
Légende ill. 20 - Female huntress sarcophagus (Rome, San Sebastiano); scan: D-DAI-ROM-79.1849.
URL http://books.openedition.org/pupvd/docannexe/image/7111/img-20.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 156k
Légende ill. 21 - Metropolitan Endymion sarcophagus: rear, with horses; scan: Art Resource 422266.
URL http://books.openedition.org/pupvd/docannexe/image/7111/img-21.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 140k
Légende ill. 22 - Underworld sarcophages in Villa Giuli; scan: D-DAI-ROM-7312.
URL http://books.openedition.org/pupvd/docannexe/image/7111/img-22.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 252k
Légende ill. 23 - Sea-thaisos sarcophagus; scan: Koln Mal 1636-03_17553,02.
URL http://books.openedition.org/pupvd/docannexe/image/7111/img-23.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 263k

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Princeton University

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