Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World 9781407312200, 9781407341897

Table of contents :
Front Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements
Contributors
Introduction. A Turkish teapot, or thinking things through
Der Wert des Menschen und sein Preis. Das Verhältnis von Person und Eigentum bei Brautpreis, Wergeld und Sklaverei
Vergessen und neu belebt – das neolithische Steinbeil von seiner Produktion bis in die Neuzeit
Transformers Energize! Aegean Bronze Age rhyta in moments of transformation
Der Wert des Kupfers Über die Entstehung und den Wandel von Wert vor 4000 Jahren
Heavy metal in hallowed contexts Continuity and change in aes deposits in Central Italy and Sicily
The value of coinage in the Second Punic War and after
Votives and values: communicating with the supernatural
The real value of fake The curious case of cubiculum 34 in the House of Sallust (Pompeii VI 2, 4)
The de(con)struction of public monuments
Coin finds beyond the Danube: functions of fourth century gold coins within barbarian societies
From manufactured goods to significant possessions: theorising pottery consumption in late antique Anatolia
The power of things? Reconsidering the value of reused Roman material culture in the medieval period in Serbia

Citation preview

BAR S2592 2014 BOKERN & ROWAN (Eds)

Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World Edited by

Annabel Bokern Clare Rowan

EMBODYING VALUE?

B A R Bokern and Rowan 2592 cover.indd 1

BAR International Series 2592 2014 17/12/2013 11:59:46

Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World Edited by

Annabel Bokern Clare Rowan

BAR International Series 2592 2014

ISBN 9781407312200 paperback ISBN 9781407341897 e-format DOI https://doi.org/10.30861/9781407312200 A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

BAR

PUBLISHING

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements iii

About the contributors v

Introduction: a Turkish teapot, or thinking things through

1

Annabel Bokern and Clare Rowan

Der Wert des Menschen und sein Preis — Das Verhältnis von Person und Eigentum bei Brautpreis, Wergeld und Sklaverei 11 Emanuel Seitz

Vergessen und neu belebt — Das neolithische Steinbeil von seiner Produktion bis in die Neuzeit

23

Jennifer M. Bagley

Transformers Energize! Aegean Bronze Age rhyta in moments of transformation

35

Laerke Recht

Der Wert des Kupfers — Über die Entstehung und den Wandel von Wert vor 4000 Jahren

53

Martin Hensler

Heavy metal in hallowed contexts — continuity and change in aes deposits in Central Italy and Sicily 65 Andreas M. Murgan

The value of coinage in the Second Punic War and after Clare Rowan

i

77

Votives and values: communicating with the supernatural

89

Katherine M. Erdman

The real value of fake — the curious case of cubiculum 34 in the house of Sallust (Pompeii VI 2, 4) 101 Suzanne van de Liefvoort

The de(con)struction of public monuments 111 Stefanie Bauer

Coin finds beyond the Danube: functions of fourth century gold coins within barbarian societies 121 Dragana Eremić

From manufactured goods to significant possessions: theorising pottery consumption in late antique Anatolia 131 William Anderson

The power of things? Reconsidering the value of reused Roman material culture in the Medieval period in Serbia 145 Gordana Ciric

Acknowledgements

The construction and transformation of value is something of concern to multiple disciplines, and something that is intrinsically linked to the material world. Objects not only stand for particular values, they embody and affect them. To analyse and follow this process brings us closer to a better understanding of the relationship between humans, societies and objects, and the role of the material in everyday life. This topic has been a focus of discussion within the scientific programme of the Research Training Group ‘Value and Equivalence’, involving the participation of anthropologists, archaeologists and economists at the Goethe University in Frankfurt. The ongoing, fruitful and lively nature of the debate inspired two events which took place in Spring 2012, from which these contributions are derived. The first was a workshop entitled Momente der Transformation: Die Erzeugung und Zerstörung von Wert, organised by Alexandra Barb and Martin Hensler, PhD students within the research group. We wish to thank both Alexandra and Martin, as well as the presenters and participants for their lively discussion and debate. The second event was a panel at the 22nd Theoretical Roman Archaeology Conference in Frankfurt, entitled Embodying Value: The Transformation of Objects in and from the Roman World. Again we would like to thank all presenters at the panel, as well as audience members who contributed their ideas. The common themes and concerns raised by the presenters led to the decision to publish the proceedings from both events within one volume. The workshops and the ongoing research on this topic owe much to the academics at the Institute of Anthropology Frankfurt, and the Institutes of Archaeology at Frankfurt and Darmstadt, who founded the ‘Value and Equivalence’ Research Training Group. We would particularly like to thank the spokesperson of the group, Prof. Dr. Hans-Markus von Kaenel, for his support. The group and this publication are generously supported by the German Research Foundation (DFG). The layout for the publication was the work of Benjamin Richter, and we would like to thank him for his patience, hard work and enthusiasm throughout the process. We would also like to thank Prof. Ingo Pini for his kind permission to reproduce the front cover image.

iii

Contributors

William Anderson completed a PhD at the University of Melbourne in 2011. His research interests include late antique and medieval material culture, ceramics studies and landscape archaeology. He works in contract archaeology in Melbourne. Jennifer M. Bagley completed a PhD at the Ludwig Maximilians University, Munich. Her research interests include Neolithic and Iron Age material culture and archaeological theory. From 2010-2013 she was a postdoctoral fellow at the Goethe University in Frankfurt, analysing the relation of copper and social prestige. Stefanie Bauer is currently working on her PhD on Roman bronze frames at the Goethe University, Frankfurt. Her research interests include Roman bronze working techniques, the shaping of public spaces, and the representation of Roman elites. Annabel Bokern is the scientific coordinator of the Research Training Group ‘Value and Equivalence’ at the Goethe University, Frankfurt. Her research focuses on Roman portraiture, with special interest in private portraits, questions of perception, and contextualisation. Gordana Ciric is a doctoral student in Roman archaeology at the Goethe University, Frankfurt. Her research focuses on different uses of Roman coins in various social contexts and periods. Katherine Erdman is a PhD candidate in anthropology at the University of Minnesota - Twin Cities. Her research interests include European archaeology, religion and ritual, and the use and perception of watery landscapes. Dragana Eremic works in the National Museum in Belgrade, Serbia. Her interests include Roman numismatics (archaeology), late Roman and early medieval studies, and the history of collections. Martin Hensler is a doctoral student in Prehistoric archaeology at the Goethe University, Frankfurt. He works on the Bronze Age in Europe, and in particular with hoard finds and the consumption of metal objects. Andreas Murgan works at the Institute of Archaeology at the Goethe University in Frankfurt on his PhD about the functions and usage of uncoined metal in the western Mediterranean in the second half of the first millennium BC. His research interests include ancient money, iconography, and mythology. Laerke Recht is a research assistant at the International Institute for Mesopotamian Area Studies. Her research interests include Aegean archaeology, Near Eastern archaeology, religion, and human-animal studies. Clare Rowan is a research fellow in numismatics at Warwick University, UK. Her research interests include Roman history, visual culture, the Roman economy, and ancient money. Emanuel Seitz conducts research within anthropology at the Goethe University, Frankfurt. His research interests are theories of money, material culture, and the history of scholarship. Suzanne van de Liefvoort is a PhD student in Roman archaeology at Radboud University, Nijmegen. Her PhD thesis, on the appreciation of Roman domestic art, focuses on the perceived variances between authentic and non-authentic decoration.

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Introduction A Turkish teapot, or thinking things through Annabel Bokern and Clare Rowan

Figure 1 Turkish teapot, © Institute of Archaeology, Goethe University Frankfurt.

Archaeology Conference entitled Embodying Value: the Transformation of Objects in and from the Roman World. This volume brings together papers from both these events, which were organised within the framework of the Research Training Group Value and Equivalence: the Genesis and Transformation of Values from an Archaeological and Anthropological Perspective.2

We first began seriously thinking about value during a 2010 workshop entitled Theories of Value, organised by the postdoctoral fellows Jennifer Bagley and Hadas Weiss from the Research Training Group Value and Equivalence.1 The workshop examined the concept and meaning of ‘value’ from a largely theoretical perspective, opening the door for a discussion that would last within the group for the next several years. With the aim of exploring new ways of understanding how objects are (de)valued, used by, or influence people over time, a workshop involving archaeologists and anthropologists was organised in 2012 around the theme Momente der Transformation: Die Erzeugung und Zerstörung von Wert. The following week a session was held at the 22nd Theoretical Roman

During both events the discussion focused on two central questions. The first was on the ‘moment of transformation’, the moment(s) or processes in which an object gains or loses value. The second focus was on how objects and their

The Research Training Group was established in April 2010 by 11 senior researchers at the Goethe University Frankfurt. Eleven PhD students and 2 postdoctoral fellows are funded by the German Research Foundation (DFG) and about the same number of unfunded PhD candidates are associated members of the group: www.value-and-equivalence.de. 2

Thanks are due to Dr. des. Jennifer Bagley and Federico Buccellati for their perceptive comments on an earlier draft of this Introduction, and whose comments have improved the final piece. 1

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World associated value(s) transform as they enter new cultures and time periods. As these topics were discussed, broader ideas surrounding the relationship between humans and objects came to the fore, as well as ideas on how archaeology should operate and reconstruct the past. The value of objects is an incredibly complex theme with an impressive history of scholarship; one miscellany cannot hope to examine all aspects of this debate in detail.3 Instead this volume offers differing perspectives and examples of value generation and its connection to social-cultural networks as ‘food for thought’ for future research. The complexity of the subject area is revealed in the differing models and ideas proposed within this work. The interconnectedness of ‘people’, ‘objects’ and ‘things’ as they move through various life courses or biographies means that no one ‘solution’ to the value of objects is ever likely to be (or should be) settled upon, but the topic remains a fruitful one for exploration. In this introduction we limit ourselves to drawing out some of the general themes found within the individual contributions. The discussion to an extent reflects our own interests and thoughts; it is by no means an exhaustive exploration of the topic.

of understanding human interactions with the material world.5 The moment(s) of transformation: What gives an object value? This seemingly simple question can have no simple answer, witnessed in the varying approaches and perspectives provided in this volume. Some objects, by virtue of their very material, may hold an intrinsic value. Items of precious metal are a good example of this, obtaining value due to the scarcity of the material they are made from and its physical properties. Both Hensler and Murgan demonstrate this in their contributions: the metal content of Ösenringe in Bronze Age Europe and in pre-monetary objects in Italy and Sicily meant they were objects of value. Conversely, the material of objects may also contribute to a reduction of value: for us the physical appearance of the brown ceramic teapot mentioned above did not appeal to us, and contributed to our decision not to accept it from our colleague. As both Hensler and Murgan demonstrate, the obvious ‘intrinsic’ value of objects was determined and controlled by culture and society. In the case of the Ösenringe, it appears that the particular characteristics of the object were what gave it value (weight, diameter), more so than the metal itself. The differing metal compositions of pre-monetary aes objects suggest a similar phenomenon, where weight and perhaps form were of more importance than the precise type of metal alloy used.

Sitting down in Frankfurt University to write the introduction, we began by preparing a pot of tea. While cleaning the teapot the glass body of the vessel cracked. Disappointed that an object that had served us so well in the past was now at the end of its life, we threw the teapot in the bin, along with its lid. Remembering that our colleague across the hall also had a teapot, we went in to request a loan, which resulted in a Turkish metal vessel, the colleague`s tea from England, and the colleague himself joining us for tea and a chat. In return for the teapot we offered our colleague some of our ‘Kreppel’ (a German delicacy). Having no time to buy a new pot, we borrowed the Turkish teapot from our colleague daily. At some point our beleaguered colleague came in to offer us the use of another, older teapot, which he had recently been using to water his plants. The teapot´s old-fashioned style, and the way the teapot was presented to us (as a watering can) meant we refused the offer, continuing to drink tea out of the Turkish teapot. In this way the destruction of one object brought a series of actors together, building a network of relationships.

Different materials may be valued differently in different cultures depending on landscape and natural resources (amongst other factors), but value is also generated when the inherent properties of a particular material become apparent: colour, texture, strength, or flexibility, to name a few.6 Indeed, the materiality of some objects may ‘force’ one to notice them, seen in Ciric’s discussion of Roman monuments in medieval Serbia. Here the monumentality of these remains meant that populations living in the surrounding areas had little choice but to engage with them. As Hartman demonstrated for Classical Antiquity, drawing upon Assmann´s theory of collective memory, the physical appearance of these objects within their spatial context could enforce their relevance as Gedächtnismedien.7 Similarly, as Bagley discusses, the rediscovery of Neolithic stone axes throughout history invited differing explanations of their existence.

This story, at first glance somewhat mundane, reveals an entangled network of people and things. As archaeologists, ‘things’ or material culture have always formed the focus of our work, but recently other disciplines in the social sciences have increasingly turned their attention to material objects.4 And yet in spite of the ever increasing theoretical frameworks in which humans and things are brought together, a sense of dissatisfaction remains, either that we continue to privilege the human at the expense of the object, or that the on-going modern distinction between human and object continues to obscure new ways 3 4

Value might also be ‘uploaded’ to an object through knowledge. Hodder observes a situation in which students are given a piece of pottery but no contextual information; the interest and sense of wonder increases substantially On the neglect of ‘things’ see Hodder 2012. For dissatisfaction with the categories of ‘human’ and ‘object’ see Henare, Holbraad et al. 2007, 1-31; and Jones and Boivin 2010, 334, amongst others. 6 Renfrew 2005, 92 7 Schnapp 2003 initiated the discourse on the perception and value of ruins; Hartmann 2010 connects literary evidence with objects and focuses on ruins and Ruinenlandschaften in Classical Antiquity. 5

Graeber 2001 offers a good summary of previous work in the area. For an overview see Hodder 2012.

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A. Bokern and C. Rowan, Introduction: a Turkish teapot, or thinking things through when the students are informed the sherd is 3,500 years old and Minoan.8 Thus value is not only derived from the object itself, but from knowledge about the object. Perhaps our colleague’s offer of a substitute teapot would have been more successful had it been promoted as a rare 1970´s design artefact. Thompson added a new category to the socioeconomic model on the value of all ‘possessible’ things. Items without any value could not be grasped by the existing spheres of the transient and the durable. He therefore added rubbish as a category. Alongside other factors the presentation of an object may have the power to transform a thing of no value into a durable object, and lead to a continual increase of value.9 The role of display in the creation of value is touched upon by Recht in this volume, who observes that the presentation and appearance of rhyta in processions may have had an important role in value attribution.

Koons, mainly constituted by the artistic idea that precedes production and the transformative process of reproducing things in new combinations, altered dimensions and material.12 Returning to Thompson´s ‘rubbish theory’ at this point, the materials Koons selects for his objects are mainly to be found in the durable category, carrying a high material value, whilst the objects he selects to reproduce belong to the lower-value sphere of the transient category; in a short-term development they will end as rubbish. By the materialistic transformation of the object, as well as the performative act of the presentation and sales process, the art works of Koons cross over from being more or less rubbish to prestige objects of high material as well as nonmaterial value.

The perspective of the beholder

Knowledge (value) may be transmitted by linking information to a situation in a performative act as done by Hodder with his students, or, by contrast, through an association of context(s) over long periods of time. Visiting the exhibition Der grosse Potlatch in Dresden with our group in 2011 we witnessed a discussion between two boys who were both about 10 years old. They were comparing a wooden mask, recently produced in a First Nation community, with a golden mask from the time of Louis XIV, trying to decide which one of the exhibits might be of higher value. One of the boys stated that nothing could be more obvious than the immense value of the wooden mask. This was clear to him, he added, because it was hung up in the context of an exhibition and it looked very old as well. In this short episode the hiatus between material and non-material value becomes clear and highlights the transformations of value-concepts through contextualisation.10

In his Natural History Pliny preserves for us the rivalry between Parrhasios and Zeuxis. The latter became wellknown for the grapes he painted in such a realistic manner that birds came flying in to peck at them. He then painted a boy carrying grapes and as the birds flew in again, he got angry, stating that if he had been able to paint the boy as realistically as the grapes, the birds would have surely been scared off by the child.13 The artistic goal in this scene clearly is the effect of trompe l´oeil, thus demonstrating the mimetic skills of the painter, which seem to be the central point of value within this artistic contest. Nevertheless Zeuxis loses the competition in the end, because he tries to open a curtain in front of Parrhasios’ piece only to discover that the linen curtain was a part of the picture. Parrhasios thus demonstrates his skills by not only beguiling animals, but by overcoming the rationality of a human being, in this case of an artist.

When people view an artwork of Jeff Koons for the first time their initial reaction may be one of scepticism, even though these pieces are usually part of exhibitions: in the case of Sling Hook, a sculptural reproduction of a balloon lobster and dolphin hanging upside down from a fishing hook, spectators very often react with a spontaneous comment that they too could blow up a cheap balloon and display it in a museum. However, when informed that the sculpture is not a mass produced plastic balloon but rather metal sculpted with enormous precision and many hundreds of working hours in order to resemble a cheap massproduced balloon, scepticism at this stage usually turns into a sense of wonder and appreciation, and thus increases the value of the object in the eyes of the beholder.11 The artistic value of the object is, in terms of the art works of

The story offers a situation in which a greater or lesser similarity to a real object is the measure of value. This gradual measurement demands a point of comparison, which may be found in another art work, like the one Parrhasios presents, or in nature herself. Secondly, Pliny tells us that the recipient is highly relevant to the effect the art work causes. Up to a certain point it depends on the beholder, by what and when he can be deceived by a work of art. Not only do we have to take into account the level of awareness and knowledge of the viewer (an artist is a stronger obstacle than a bird), but also the sheer functioning of the brain. But what follows when the beholder ‘knows’ that he is looking at a ‘fake’ instead of the ‘real’ object? Zeuxis knew he was about to look at a work of art, but did not expect the curtain to be part of it. Or else he looked at the work of art and was still not capable of defining its

Hodder 2012, 32 Thompson 2003 10 On museum objects, art and context see Thiemeyer 2010, 6. 11 This was observed many times in the 2012 exhibition Jeff Koons. Sculptor at the Liebieghaus Skulpturensammlung in Frankfurt. The ‘cheap’ plastic dolphin seemed out of place, surrounded as it was by ancient Greek sculpture. 8

Still bound to the concept of the ‘Ready Made’ introduced by Marcel Duchamp, with the workgroup “Popeye” Koons sticks closely to the original appearance of the plastic models (inflatable pool animal toys). For an overview see Archer 2011. 13 Pliny, NH 35.36. For a discussion on the emulation of nature and the definition of mimesis, see Peres 1990.

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World components, due to the elaborate level of similitude. In the case of the dolphin created by Jeff Koons, the revelation of the true material of the sculpture also often results in a need to touch the object to reassure oneself of one´s full capacity of senses.14

pottery in the Mediterranean.19 Indeed, the ‘fake’ may even at times be valued more than an ‘authentic’ object. Pliny records that in Rome ‘fake’ or counterfeit coins were often purchased for more than the ‘real’ coin was worth;20 here the value of the ‘fake’ was to be found in the ability to study counterfeiting techniques and thus protect the Roman monetary system, something of greater value than whatever amount of money the ‘fake’ coin was worth.

This opens the question, whether a work of art or other kind of handcrafted object is seen differently when the ‘authenticity’ of it is known. In the Roman world there are many objects that resemble those items we in the modern world value more highly, simply because they are ‘authentic’ objects or made of ‘original’ material.15 But does this knowledge change the way our brains ‘digest’ what we see before our eyes?

Dealing with things Objects also gain value as they are used within society, often reinforcing social hierarchies or power structures. Here the value of an object is less tied to its material (though one can argue this is still important) and more to desire and access to particular objects. The manipulation of the perception of goods and access to them actively creates and reflects social hierarchy, defining relations between people.21 In Ciric’s example focusing on the reuse of Roman materials in medieval graves, the social status of the deceased determined how the objects were to be used, reinforcing the existing social hierarchy. Rowan’s discussion of the acceptability of coinage during the Second Punic War also highlights the connection between social hierarchy, power, and who determines an object’s ‘face’ value. Ingham suggested that money is produced in a struggle for power, and the value of the money concerned is a direct result of that power.22 The clear separation of the coinage of the Roman Republic and the Bretti demonstrates this idea in practice. But here the value strictly enforced by conflicting political authorities stands in contrast to the value individuals construct amongst themselves, perhaps in conflict with those in power.

These observations are brought to the fore in van de Liefvoort’s discussion of ‘real’ and ‘fake’ in Roman domestic marble decoration. Van de Liefvoort notes that information concerning the authenticity of a particular Rembrandt painting affects how the brain processes the image.16 The example demonstrates the effect object information has on human cognitive processes, and ultimately on how a particular object is valued. Van de Liefvoort’s exploration of Room 34 in the House of Sallust in Pompeii suggests that ‘authentic’ and ‘fake’ could be placed side by side in the Roman world without differentiation in its perception and evaluation. Eremić’s exploration of the use of gold coins in Late Antique Barbaricum also highlights the idea that there was no essential distinction between ‘real’ and ‘fake’ in this context: ‘fake’ Roman gold coins were used alongside ‘the real thing’ in the creation of jewellery. It seems that the authenticity of these objects was not essentially what made them valuable to their barbarian users. In the case of Roman imagery carried on coinage into Barbaricum, it may be the very unintelligibility of the image, now out of its original context, which may have given the object value.17 However, the clear preference for images of the emperor in the conversion of these coins into jewellery suggests some understanding on the part of the user.

As mentioned above, performative acts have an important role to play in the creation of value. Rituals, performance and other activities may change the value and status of particular objects. Value is thus not only generated through exchange, but through other human performances.23 Recht’s discussion of Bronze Age rhyta shows this idea in action: rhyta played an important role as a ‘transformer’ in ritual by transforming the liquids that passed through them. The existence of ‘trick’ rhyta, designed to mystify the viewer into believing the vessel was refilling itself shows the possible performative use of these pieces. Members of the local elite could make use of these ‘mystical’ objects to strengthen their cultic and social position by keeping the cause of the effect unclear and thus the beholder in awe. Other examples of such objects may be found in objects like the Himmelsscheibe von Nebra, which according to our understanding document astronomical knowledge

Conceptions of ‘authentic’ versus ‘fake’ seem to be more of a concern in the modern world, where industrialisation has brought forth ways of reproducing things without the use of human hands, while in antiquity copying and imitating implied the manual and artistic skills such a process required.18 The value of the ‘fake’ in ancient times may differ from culture to culture and from object to object as van Wijngaarden has demonstrated for Mycenean On what archaeologists can learn from artists see Renfrew, Gosden and DeMarrais 2004. 15 Rübel, Wagner and Wolf 2005, 143-4; Olsen, Shanks et. al. 2012, 22-6 16 Huang, Bridge, Kemp and Parker 2011 17 Morphy 2010, 282-3 18 Rübel, Wagner and Wolf 2005, 95-6 (Materialgerechtigkeit) and 14293 (Materialimitationen); Zanker 1992; Olsen, Shanks et. al. 2012, 23. On the effect of ‘mechanical reproduction’ on our perceptions of art, the chief work remains Walter Benjamin (Benjamin 1996). See also Berger 1972. 14

van Wijngaarden 2008, 135 Pliny NH 33.46.132 van Wijngaarden 1999, 2-3; Hildebrandt and Veit 2009 22 Ingham 2004, 78 23 Gosdon and Marshall 1999, 174; Joy 2009, 544 19 20 21

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A. Bokern and C. Rowan, Introduction: a Turkish teapot, or thinking things through accessible exclusively to a religious and social elite. Today we witness a similar mystification of these objects, some of them made of precious material like gold or bronze, in the way they are displayed in museums. In the Landesmuseum für Vorgeschichte in Halle the Himmelsscheibe is placed in a dark shrine-like room with a strong spotlight on this singled out semiophore.24 Just like entering a cathedral most visitors lower their voices and move slowly around the relic from the Early Bronze Age, wondering what it might have meant. It is a tightrope walk between the aesthetic presentation of ancient objects and the transmission of historic information to a broad audience.

are listed by type rather than context obscures the actual use(s) of the objects concerned. Returning to our teapot experience, if we were to classify our colleague’s older teapot according to form, colour, and fabric, rather than focus on its context, we would obscure the use of the object as a watering can. Object biography focuses not only on the production of the object, but also its consumption ‘as a social action occurring at a local scale’ (Anderson), a process which is a key producer of value and culture.27 In this context we return to Hensler’s discussion of what aspects determined the value of Ösenringe in Bronze Age society. To approach the problem he traces the use of Ösenringe following the process of consumption and shows that consumption as a form of communication implements concepts of value within societies. He suggests that Ösenringe did not only follow a special system of weight and value, but may be the initial object of such a system.

Everyday objects may be given additional value through their use or movement into the ritual sphere, as with the knives, plough blades and other objects discussed by Murgan or the rings and coins detailed by Erdman. This process of ‘adding value’ is at times marked on the object itself through an inscription or, more radically, the object’s destruction, as the object is then to some extent freed from the original significance and value that was attached at the moment of production (Bagley). At other moments it appears that the physical movement of the object, from the sacred to the profane sphere, or in a procession, may lead to a change in the object’s value. In these situations the ‘life’ of the object in terms of experience or ‘participation seniority’ adds to its intrinsic worth.

Just as an object may have many different potential biographies, so too can the same object be used and valued differently between cultures, or within the same culture or household. Anderson argues for such discrepant user experience in Late Antique Anatolia, and the idea is underscored by the variety of objects chosen as votive offerings in the contributions throughout this book. Both Erdmann and Murgan list numerous types of votive offerings, and although some objects might be deemed more ‘appropriate’ for particular purposes, the decision over which object to use appears to have remained with the individual. Hodder has also demonstrated the different ways things might be valued by different individuals, dependent on different abstractions like ideas, thoughts, words, feelings and senses; here he utilises Bourdieu’s definition of Habitus as an explanatory model.28 Rather than assuming that humans are bound by a culturally determined method of doing things, Hodder argues we might see that ‘humans are always seeking and searching to find new solutions that ‘work’ in a particular context within a particular strategy’. The alternative model proposed by Hodder and others is one of entangled networks: rather than a linear biography, a network underscores the multiplicity of options that might affect one object’s itinerary.29

Value lost and (re)found: the biography of the object The generation of ‘lived’ or ‘additional’ value through ritual or performance leads us to the concept of object biography.25 An object, like a person, might go through several ‘life-stages’, during which the object may gain, lose, or change value, a process that Appadurai labelled ‘tournaments of value’.26 By following the biography of an object we better understand its use and context within society, but in doing so archaeologists must pay close attention to context. This point is underlined in the papers of Anderson and Bagley. Bagley notes that in the case of Neolithic stone axes, only the object’s context, not the object itself, reveals how it was used. For Bagley, the continuous use and engagement with Neolithic stone axes from the moment of their creation until the modern day underscores a vital point for archaeologists – the presence of a stone axe does not necessarily indicate a Neolithic context, since these objects were rediscovered and reinterpreted over time. Anderson’s examination of ceramics in Late Antique Anatolia demonstrates how the tendency of archaeology as a discipline to develop typologies and to publish excavation reports where objects

At some point objects reach a rupture in their biographies, resulting in a loss of value, or the destruction/discard of the object. As Bauer observes in her discussion of the deconstruction of Roman public monuments, these destructive moments in an object’s life are rarely focused on in archaeology. But understanding an object’s ‘end’ is important, and not merely because this is the context that we most commonly uncover in archaeological excavations. If an object is used within social relationships, then the ‘death’ of the object must necessarily result in a ‘death’

Pomian 1998, 38-54 On object biography see Kopytoff 1986, 64-94; Joy 2009, 540-56; Gosdon and Marshall 2010, 169-78; and Hall 2012, 72-91, amongst others. 26 Appadurai 1986, 3-63 24 25

Dietler 2010, 59 Hodder 2012, 123; Bourdieu 1977 29 Hahn and Weiss 2013, 4 27 28

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World or transformation of the said relationship.30 In Bauer’s exploration of the destruction of bronze monuments, often the destruction occurs in connection with a change in social and/or political relationships, underlining the connection between objects and human society. But in many ways the ‘end’ of an object is somewhat ambiguous – objects may be rediscovered and given new meanings and values, as in the case with the Neolithic stone axes (Bagley).31 Metal objects that are ‘destroyed’ in the process of recycling are then necessarily transformed into other objects, like the metal inscription Bauer discusses that was used to fashion spare car parts. The material of the object in this situation is thus not touched by the destruction, but is instead transformed. Similarly the conversion of Brettian coinage into Roman denarii discussed by Rowan is a transformation of material (silver) from one object to another, in this case a transformation of a coin into a coin. In fact we might separate ‘object biographies’ from ‘material biographies’ – the destruction of an object does not necessarily bring about the ‘end life’ of the material concerned, evidenced in the grinding of Neolithic stone axes into powder for medicine (Bagley), or the grinding down of Samian ware for use as a colorant.32 In thinking about ‘things’ perhaps we need to acknowledge more the essential relationship between ‘materials’ and ‘forces’, in which materials react with the world to (re)generate things.33

period highlights the fact that the relationship between humans and things is one of entanglement.36 Humans interact with and come to rely on things, these things rely on other things to function, and things rely on people to repair and use them. In this instance the Roman people had placed great value, energy and resources into the creation of a monumental culture. The monuments created sparked ever greater and larger monuments, intensifying the relationship and dependency between person and object. These monuments needed other objects to function fully – a forum for display, for example, and in the case of large bronze doors, a temple or monumental building to which they were attached. These monuments, particularly those in bronze, were somewhat ‘unruly’ and could break or demand maintenance. This in turn led to the creation of a repair workshop in Brescia, where such maintenance could take place, in turn demanding the reuse of other monuments whose value was deemed to be lower by the ruling government. In some cases these relationships of dependency may outlive the culture that initially created them, as in the case of the repair of Roman aqueducts in the medieval period in Spain.37 The interdependency of things may again be illustrated by our teapot experience: once the glass body of the teapot broke, the rest of the object (the lid and the metal skeleton that held the body of the vessel) was also deemed to be destroyed or without use value. Since we were not capable of reusing the materials of the object, all these items were thrown away, underlining how things interact with and rely on other things.

Some objects, however, may be intentionally made for destruction or may need to come to an end to fulfil their purpose; the very value of their creation lies in their ability to be destroyed.34 Such is the case with totem poles, which are meant to decay and eventually return to the earth. This expectation was a cause of conflict during the repatriation of the famous G’psgolox pole from Sweden to its traditional Haisla owners, since museum representatives wanted the ‘priceless treasure’ to be preserved.35 The stone rhyta mentioned by Recht also appear to be an example of such objects, which may have been destroyed in a performative act. The need to destroy objects indicates their role as bearers of memory and culture; when a society needs to forget, objects are targeted. Well-known examples of this are the Roman practice of damnatio memoriae or the Bildersturm of the Middle Ages. The rejection of things, moving away from things, the declaration of that thing is of little or no value, seen in the ‘Latin’ invasion and destruction of bronze monuments in Constantinople (Bauer), is as important in the creation of identity, culture and relationships as more ‘positive’ interactions.

Dichotomies and beyond? People, objects and the human body The value(s) generated by the human-object relationship, like most of the themes touched upon in this introduction, is far too large to be treated exhaustively here and again we can only touch upon points of interest. A startling or perhaps not so startling common thread throughout this book is the way that objects appear to gain value according to the way they interact with, adorn, or represent the human body.38 The use of coins, deposited in the Douix (Erdmann), reused in Late Antique Barbaricum (Eremić) and medieval societies (Ciric) are one example of such objects, since they bear both human representations and can be worn on the body. Erdmann notes that one reason why particular objects may have been valued above others as votive objects was their connection with the human body.39 Rings, coins, weapons and sculptures are

Bauer’s example of the reuse of bronze monuments to repair other monuments in the city of Brescia in the Roman

Ingold 2007; Ingold 2010, 4-5 (acknowledging his debt to Heidegger); Hodder 2012 37 Martínez Jiménez 2012, 27-42 38 Graeber 2001, 92 notes how remarkable it is that objects often adopted as money come from materials that are otherwise used to adorn the human body. 39 Huth 2003 points out the scarcity of prehistoric anthropomorphic depictions. There seems to be some connection between the emergence of depictions of the human being and the earliest evidence for sanctuaries. 36

Pollard 2004, 47 31 Hahn and Weiss 2013, 4 32 Campbell 2012, 17 33 Ingold 2010 34 Rowlands 1993, 149 35 Jessiman 2011, 369, 374. The museum representative noted that ‘I would be very unhappy if [they] put the pole back according to [their] tradition because it would be destroyed’. 30

6

A. Bokern and C. Rowan, Introduction: a Turkish teapot, or thinking things through all in some way connected to the human being and can be found in ritual and sepulchral contexts. Such objects, when offered, could visibly or symbolically represent the individual performing the sacrifice. Many objects depict humans performing ritual acts, like the engravings on situlae or the decorations on Greek pottery. They connect the object symbolically with the ritual act performed by a human being.40

these objects. Roman orators, for example, recommended visualising a well-laid out house in one’s head to aid one’s memory. Different points to be made during a speech could then be placed in each room, allowing one to recall all the points to be made, and, by ‘walking through the house’ and its many rooms, one could go back and between different sections.46 Thus although the object was not actually present, it nonetheless was active in the cognitive process of human actors.

In some cases these objects even ‘speak’ to us, as we can see from the inscription on the Duenos Vase found in a votive deposit on the Quirinal in Rome, with an oath formula ending with the words ‘may a bad man not present me!’ (Murgan). The inscription directly addresses the reader in a ‘speech act’ performed by the object itself. Thereby a network emerges that connects the maker, the object, the presenter of the sacrifice, the recipient(s) and the act of offering.41 But at what point in the history of mankind did an object made of metal or clay, depicting an isolated part of the body, become intelligible as pars pro toto for its donor? Votive offerings like hands, feet or breasts seem familiar to us and we still know they are synonymous with the wishes for an individual´s health and wellbeing, something that was still common practice in the late Middle Ages and beyond. But such clarity cannot always be found, especially with ancient objects without inscriptions: anthropomorphic objects like the idols of the Cyclades prompt us to question what and whom they represent, though the number of these objects in sepulchral contexts and cultic deposits leaves us without doubt as to their relevance.

Malafouris explains that ‘extended mind’ theory and ‘embodied cognition’ means that ‘the body is not as conventionally held, a passive external container of the human mind that has little to do with cognition per se but a constitutive and integral component of the way we think. In other words, the mind does not inhabit the body, it is rather the body that inhabits the mind’.47 Since the body plays an active role in how we think, the material environment that surrounds the body must play a role as well. Thus objects can become a part of the body or a person, demonstrated in neuro-scientific research, which has identified that the systematic association between the body and inanimate objects can result in the incorporation of these objects into the body schema.48 Malafouris cites the example of a 73 year old woman, who, after having had a stroke and having been paralysed on her left side, failed to recognise the rings she had worn for years on her left hand. Once these rings were moved to her right hand, or placed in front of her, she recognised them and was able to link them to her own autobiography.49 Perhaps the natural conclusion of these developments has been the recent call to abandon the ‘human’ - ‘object’ division entirely.50 The value of objects is linked to the way they interact with both our minds and our bodies, and the implications of this need to be considered for present and future research.

The body is perhaps somewhat underrepresented in modern archaeological research,42 and yet increasingly both social science and cognitive research are beginning to identify the extent to which body, mind and objects are intertwined.43 Clark’s theory of the ‘extended mind’ highlights how cognitive processes and thought, once believed to take place within the confines of the brain, depend on external stimuli and ‘things’.44 A good example of this idea is the use of external devices for the storage of memory, whether in the form of Mesopotamian tokens or modern external hard drives.45 Similarly, when presented with a mathematical problem, many of us resort to a pen and paper to find the solution; in this way objects form an integral part of the functioning of the brain. Even when these objects are absent and we do the mathematical sum ‘in our head’, the way we visualise and solve the problem in our minds may still be influenced by ‘the pen and paper’, or how we would have laid out the problem using

The connection between mind, body and the material world raises the controversial topic of object agency. Latour has been instrumental in developing the idea of object agency, or Actor Network Theory, which assigns objects an active role in social and cultural interactions.51 The agency of objects has had a controversial reception, even within the collection of papers in this volume. Many see the assigning of agency to objects as the ‘lazy man’s option’, arguing that instead it is the role of social science to understand how it is that people believe objects have agency.52 Ingold has been instrumental in observing that what we categorise as the ‘agency’ of things in fact can be better understood as the interactions of materials with the forces of the natural world, the ‘flux of materials’.53 If we are to accept the Ad C. Herennium 3.16-24; Cicero de oratore 2.86.351-4; Quintilian instiutio oratoria 11.2.17-22 47 Malafouris 2008, 115 48 Malafouris 2008, 120 49 Malafouris 2008, 120; Berlucchi and Aglioti 1997, 561 50 Henare, Holbraad et al. 2007, 1-31; Jones and Boivin 2010, 348-51 51 e.g. Latour 1992, 225-8. See also Jones and Boivin 2010, 333-51; Pickering 2010, 192-208 52 Morphy 2010, 279 53 Ingold 2007 46

Huth 2003, 160-244 on situla art and 271-94 for an overview of human depictions in prehistoric art, with a focus on cognitive processes and aspects of individualisation. 41 Bredekamp 2010, 48-100 on first-person inscriptions and the development from Sprechakt to Bildakt. 42 Shilling 2008, 145 43 For an overview of the topic see Malafouris 2013. 44 Clark 2008, 1-18; Malafouris and Renfrew 2010, 1-12; Knappett 2011 45 On the tokens see Schmandt-Besserat 1992. 40

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World ideas offered to us by developments in material cognition, we must acknowledge the inherent potential or agency of objects, or the effect of the material world on human actors. As Malafouris observes in his discussion of the role of Mycenean swords in the development of Mycenean culture and ‘being’, ‘to deny the agency of the sword is to misconstrue the cognitive efficacy of material culture’.54 A sword may not be able to move itself, but its very presence invites the hand to perform actions and activities it would not otherwise have performed.

often have the benefit of first hand observation and interviews, something denied to archaeologists, who can then be accused of focusing only the object to the detriment of human actors. We are constrained by our material; it goes without saying that every archaeologist dreams of being able to time travel and observe ancient societies as living cultures. But in spite of the differences and constraints, the dialogue is well worth having. The conflict between interdisciplinary theory and the constraints of our material is something that we keenly feel and consequently this book offers case studies in how this gap might be breached. Instead of an overtly theoretical discussion we focus instead on the ancient material and how it might be interpreted. The contributions are not presented as ‘definitive solutions’ to the problems of value, and the use of theories of value in archaeological research. Rather they highlight the complexity of value and its transformation over time, and demonstrate the understanding to be gained from pursuing research in this area, particularly when conducted in collaboration with other disciplines.

The collapse of the division between mind/body/object is something that has for some time been suggested by anthropological research. Strathern’s study of Melanesian society demonstrated that the ‘person’ or ‘dividual’ within Melanesian culture was constructed and construed through exchange, relations and objects.55 In such a culture ‘objects make persons’.56 Mauss’ famous work The Gift noted that in Maori society when an object is given as a gift it contained a part of the giver within it (the hau).57 Mauss, with a westernised idea of what constituted an individual, explained this phenomenon through the concept of alienable and inalienable objects, maintaining that the person and the gift were still essentially separate. We may look at this interpretation anew in light of recent developments in ethnography. Instead of interpreting activities like gift giving in Maori society according to westernised notions of peoples and objects, ethnologists have sought to ‘think through things’ and to create new categories of understanding societal practices by abandoning the human/object division.58 The conceptual division between humans and things is a recent western understanding of the world, influenced by our notions of the individual and their rights. Seitz’s exploration of how a person might become an object for sale with a particular price emphasises what can be gained from abandoning this essentially modern understanding of the world. Seitz’s philological discussion of Homeric Greek and other terminologies underscores how other cultures, particularly those that have institutions of slavery, bride-price and Wergeld, conceptualise the ‘person’ differently, not distinguishing between the human being as a biological entity and the ‘individual’.

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In considering how value is constructed and transformed, we are forced to reflect on our own practice and its associated values. Our own experience as archaeologists working alongside anthropologists has resulted in the realisation that although both disciplines work on similar topics our perceptions can often be very far apart. To us this was particularly apparent in group discussion when both disciplines tried to find a common ground. Anthropologists

Malafouris 2008, 118 Strathern 1988 Fontijn 2002, 27 57 Mauss 1990 58 Henare, Holbraad et al. 2007, 1-31; Jones and Boivin 2010, 348-51 54 55 56

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A. Bokern and C. Rowan, Introduction: a Turkish teapot, or thinking things through in the Bronze Age of the Southern Netherlands, c. 2300-600 BC. Leiden, Faculty of Archaeology, Leiden University. Gosdon, C. and Y. Marshall 1999. The cultural biography of objects. World Archaeology 31, 169-78. Graeber, D. 2001. Toward an Anthropological Theory of Value. New York, Palgrave. Hahn, H. P. and H. Weiss. 2013. Introduction: biographies, travels and itineraries of things. In H. P. Hahn and H. Weiss (eds), Mobility, Meaning and Transformations of Things, 1-14. Oxford, Oxbow. Hall, M. A. 2012. Money isn’t everything: the cultural life of coins in the medieval burgh of Perth, Scotland. Journal of Social Archaeology 12, 72-91. Hartmann, A. 2010. Zwischen Relikt und Reliquie. Objektbezogene Erinnerungspraktiken in antiken Gesellschaften. Studien zur Alten Geschichte 11. Berlin, Verlag Antike e.V. Henare, A., Holbraad, M., et al. 2007. Introduction: thinking through things. In A. Henare, M. Holbraad and S. Wastell (eds), Thinking Through Things. Theorising Artefacts Ethnographically, 1-31. London, Routledge. Hildebrandt, B. and C. Veit (eds). 2009. Der Wert der Dinge. Güter im Prestigediskurs. München, Utz. Hodder, I. 2012. Entangled. An Archaeology of Relationships between Humans and Things. Chichester, Wiley-Blackwell. Ingham, G. 2004. The Nature of Money. Cambridge, Polity. Ingold, T. 2007. Materials against materiality. Archaeological Dialogues 14, 1-16. Ingold, T. 2007. Lines: A Brief History. London, Routledge. Ingold, T. 2010. Bringing things back to life: creative entanglements in a world of materials. ESRC National Centre for Research Methods. Working Paper Series 05/10. http://eprints.ncrm.ac.uk/1306/1/0510_creative_ entanglements.pdf (accessed 05/09/2013). Jessiman, S.R. 2011. The repatriation of the G’psgolox totem pole: a study of its context, process, and outcome. International Journal of Cultural Property 18, 365-91. Jones, A. M. and N. Boivin. 2010. The malice of inanimate objects. Material Agency. In D. Hicks and M. C. Beaudry (eds), The Oxford Handbook of Material Culture Studies, 333-51. Oxford, Oxford University Press. Joy, J. 2009. Reinvigorating the object biography: reproducing the drama of object lives. World Archaeology 41, 540-56. Knappett, C. 2011. An Archaeology of Interaction. Network Perspectives on Material Culture and Society. Oxford, Oxford University Press. Kopytoff, I. 1986. The cultural biography of things: commoditization as process. In A. Appadurai (ed.), The Social Life of Things: Commodities in Cultural Perspective, 64-94. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Latour, B. 1992. Where are the missing masses? The sociology of a few mundane artefacts. In W. E. Bijker and J. Law (eds), Shaping Technology/Building

Society: Studies in Sociotechnical Change, 225-58. Cambridge, Mass., MIT Press. Malafouris, L. 2008. Is it ‘me’ or is it ‘mine’? The Mycenean sword as body-part. In D. Borić and J. Robb (eds), Past Bodies. Body-Centered Research in Archaeology, 115-23.Oxford, Oxbow Books. Malafouris, L. and C. Renfrew. 2010. The cognitive life of things: archaeology, material engagement and the extended mind. In L. Malafouris and C. Renfrew (eds), The Cognitive Life of Things, 1-12. Cambridge, McDonald Institute for Archaeological Research. Malafouris, L. 2013, How Things Shape the Mind. A Theory of Material Engagement. Cambridge, Mass., MIT Press. Martínez Jiménez, J. 2012. Reuse, repair and reconstruction. Functioning aqueducts in post-Roman Spain. In B. Jervis and A. Kyle (eds), Make-do and Mend: Archaeologies of Compromise, Repair and Reuse, 27-42. Oxford, British Archaeological Reports. Mauss, M. 1990. The Gift: the Form and Reason for Exchange in Archaic Societies. London, Routledge. Morphy, H. 2010. Art as action, art as evidence. In D. Hicks and M. C. Beaudry (eds), The Oxford Handbook of Material Culture Studies, 265-90. Oxford, Oxford University Press. Olsen, B., Shanks, M., et al. (eds). 2012. Archaeology. The Discipline of Things. Berkeley and Los Angeles, University of California Press. Peres, C. 1990. Nachahmung der Natur. Hekunft und Implikation eines Topos. In H. Körner, C. Peres, R. Steiner and L. Tavernier (eds), Die Trauben des Zeuxis. Formen künstlerischer Wirklichtkeitsaneignung, 1-40. Hildesheim, Zürich, New York, Georg Olms Verlag. Pickering, A. 2010. Material culture and the dance of agency. In D. Hicks and M. C. Beaudry (eds), The Oxford Handbook of Material Culture Studies, 192208. Oxford, Oxford University Press. Pollard, J. 2004. The art of decay and the transformation of substance. In C. Renfrew, C. Gosden and E. DeMarrais (eds), Substance, Memory, Display. Archaeology and Art, 47-62. Cambridge, McDonald Institute for Archaeological Research. Pomian, K. 1998. Der Ursprung des Museums. Vom Sammeln. Berlin, Wagenbach. Renfrew, C. 2005. Archaeology and commodification: the role of things in societal transformation. In M. J. van Binsbergen and P. L. Geschiere (eds), Commodification. Things, Agency, and Identities, 85-97. Münster, LIT. Renfrew, C., Gosden, C. and E. DeMarrais (eds). 2004. Substance, Memory, Display. Archaeology and Art. Cambridge, McDonald Institute for Archaeological Research. Rowlands, M. 1993. The role of memory in the transmission of culture. World Archaeology 25, 141-51. Rübel, D., Wagner. M. and V. Wolff (eds). 2005. Materialästhetik. Quellentexte zu Kunst, Design und Architektur. Berlin, Dietrich Reimer Verlag.

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World Schmandt-Besserat, D. 1992. Before Writing: From Counting to Cuneiform (2 vols). Austin, University of Texas Press. Scott, S. 2006. Art and the archaeologist. World Archaeology 38, 628-43. Schnapp, A. 2003. Vestiges, monuments, and ruins: The east faces west. In M. F. Zimmermann (eds), The Art Historian: National Traditions and Institutional Practices, 2-24. New Haven, Yale University Press. Shilling, C. 2008. The challenge of embodying archaeology. In D. Borić and J. Robb (eds), Past Bodies. BodyCentered Research in Archaeology, 145-51. Oxford, Oxbow Books. Strathern, M. 1988. The Gender of the Gift. Berkeley, University of California Press. Thompson, M. 1979. Rubbish Theory. The Creation and Destruction of Values. Oxford, Oxford University Press. Thiemeyer, T. 2011. Die Sprache der Dinge. Museumsobjekte zwischen Zeichen und Erscheinung. In: Museen für Geschichte (eds), Online-Publikation der Beiträge des Symposiums “Geschichtsbilder im Museum” im Deutschen Historischen Museum Berlin, URL: http://www.museenfuergeschichte.de/ downloads/news/Thomas_Thiemeyer-Die_Sprache_ der_Dinge.pdf. (accessed 01/08/2013) van Wijngaarden, G. J. 1999. An archaeological approach to the concept of value. Mycenean pottery at Ugarit (Syria). Archaeological Dialogues 6, 2-23. van Wijngaarden, G. J. 2008. The relevance of authenticity. Mycenean-type pottery in the Mediterranean. In P. F. Biehl and Y. Y. Rassamakin (eds), Import and Imitation in Archaeology, 125-45. Langenweißbach, Beier & Beran. Zanker, P. 1992. Nachahmen als kulturelles Schicksal. In Bayerische Staatsgemäldesammlungen (eds), Probleme der Kopie von der Antike bis zum 19. Jahrhundert, 9-24. Forstinning, Kastner & Callwey.

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Der Wert des Menschen und sein Preis Das Verhältnis von Person und Eigentum bei Brautpreis, Wergeld und Sklaverei Emanuel Seitz

Wer die Institutionen Brautpreis, Wergeld und Sklaverei verstehen möchte, muss sich von unserer Moral verabschieden. Ob es sich bei Brautpreis und Wergeld um einen Gaben- oder Warentausch handelt, ist keine essentielle Frage. Der wesentliche Unterschied zur Moderne ist, dass ein Mensch zu einem tauschbaren Gut wird. Bei der Verwandlung in ein Gut wechselt die persona des Menschen, verstanden als gesellschaftliche Maske. Die Moderne kennzeichnet, dass sie nicht trennt zwischen der biologischen Klassifikation als Mensch und dem Status als Person (Mensch = Person). Die Person gilt als heilig, kann nicht gehandelt werden und hat daher einen Wert, der nicht mit dem Preis einer Sache identisch ist: ihre Würde (Preis ≠ Wert). Die Gesellschaften mit Wergeld, Brautpreis und Sklaverei basieren dagegen auf einer materialistischen Moral. Sichtbarer Beleg der Würde eines Menschen ist der Preis, den man für ihn zu zahlen bereit ist. Wert und Preis können noch synonym gehandhabt werden (Preis = Wert). Würdelosigkeit und damit Verlust der Anerkennung bedeutet den Verlust des Status als Person, wenn der Mensch Sklave wird (Mensch ≠ Person). Die Schuldknechtschaft, eine Hypothek auf die eigene Person, ist eine realökonomische Folge, die den Unterschied zur Moderne verdeutlicht. Wir sollten ferner von einem Eigentum ausgehen, das nicht veräußerlich ist, aber verpflichtet; es beschreibt das Verhältnis von Staat und Bürger, von Stamm und Stammesmitglied. vormodernes Menschenrecht, Identität und Anerkennung, Gabentausch, Güterlehre, Tauschtheorie

Whoever wants to understand the institutions of bride-price, wergild and slavery, has to separate himself from our current moral principles. The question is not whether bride-price or wergild are a form of gift or commodity exchange. Rather the essential difference is that, in contrast to modern conceptions of mankind, these institutions reflect the idea that a person can become a transferable good. This conversion into a transferable good changes the persona of a man, that is, his social mask. The modern understanding of mankind does not distinguish between the biological classification of someone as a human being and their status as a person (human being = person). The status of a person is sacred, it cannot be sold, and therefore has a value that is not identical to the price of an object: their dignity (value ≠ price). On the other hand, societies with bride-price, wergild and slavery are based on more materialistic morals. The visible evidence of a man’s dignity is the price that someone is ready to pay for him. Price and value can, in these situations, be treated as synonymous (value = price). Being without dignity means a loss of recognition and results in a loss of status as a person (human being ≠ person). This process occurs when a man becomes a slave. Debt bondage as a mortgaged personhood is an example of the real economic consequences of this conceptualisation, which differs from modern ideas of mankind. Moreover we should conceptualise a model of property that cannot be sold, but includes obligations for the owner. This type of property describes the relationship between state and citizen, and between tribe and tribesman. premodern human rights, identity and recognition, gift exchange, construction of goods, exchange theory

Auf dem Workshop „Momente der Transformation“ hielt ich am 27. März 2012 ein Referat, von dem ich dachte, es sei nicht mehr als ein essayistisch überwucherter Beitrag zur Semantik altgriechischer Wörter mit einer Beobachtung, die sich mit Befunden der aktuellen anthropologischen Forschung deckte.1 Unter dem schmissigen Titel „Ware,

Knecht und Käuflichkeit: Der Wert des Menschen“ verbarg sich eine Zusammenstellung der homerischen Termini für Kauf und Ehre, für Wert und Preis, kontrastiert mit der anarchistischen Theoriebildung David Graebers, den Ergebnissen konsumsoziologischer Forschung, einigen Zitaten namhafter Philosophen und den psychologischen

Ich danke den Einwürfen Federico Buccellatis, Mario Schmidts und Ralph Hempelmanns nach dem Vortrag. Ihnen verdanken ich die

Inspiration zu einigen der nun eingefügten Abschnitte. Ich widme den Aufsatz J. M.

1

11

Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World Lehren René Girards und William James. Die durchaus sprunghaften Ausführungen oszillierten in einer dumpfen Vorahnung immer wieder zwischen den Begriffen Person und Eigentum und berührten zwei Fragen: Inwieweit kann erstens von Käuflichkeit gesprochen werden, wenn bei Brautpreis, Wergeld und Sklaverei Güter gegen ein menschliches Wesen getauscht werden; und zweitens, welchen Wert hat in solchen Gesellschaften der Mensch selbst? Schließlich wirkt die Selbstverständlichkeit, mit der ein freier Mann seine Freiheit verlieren kann, aus heutiger Sicht ebenso prekär wie der Gedanke, die eigenen Töchter für Geld wegzugeben oder einem Mörder zu verzeihen, wenn er nur eine Kompensation zu zahlen bereit ist.

verankerten Auffassungen sind nicht nur der Widerschein abstrakter Theoriegebilde, die nur für Berufsphilosophen von Interesse sind, sie haben, wie sich zeigen wird, praktische Auswirkungen auf Politik, Wirtschaft und Rechtsprechung. Ein angemessenes Verständnis von Brautpreis, Wergeld und Sklaverei verlangt – so lautet meine These – gerade eine Inversion des aufgeklärten Bewusstseins: Bei ihnen ist die persona nicht identisch mit dem menschlichen Individuum (Mensch ≠ Person), während der Preis identisch ist mit dem Wert einer Sache (Wert = Preis). Wer dem zustimmt, für den verliert die Debatte an Wichtigkeit, ob die sozialen Zahlungen nun ein Gaben- oder Warentausch sind.

Was ursprünglich mehr als ein locker verfasster Denkanstoß gedacht war und die Lesefrüchte eines unermüdlichen Interesses verarbeitete, entpuppte sich im Lauf der Recherchen zu einem bislang ungelösten Forschungsproblem nicht nur der Altertumswissenschaft, sondern auch der Anthropologie, das sich erst lösen lässt, wenn wir unsere moderne Konzeption von Wert und Mensch aufzugeben bereit sind. Brautpreis und Wergeld gehören zu den sozial verpflichtenden Zahlungen, über deren Charakter schon seit über einem Jahrhundert gestritten wird.2 Ob es sich um einen Warenkauf oder einen Gabentausch handelt, ist die übliche Frage, doch für beide Transaktionsarten fehlt eine klare, allgemein anerkannte Definition. Die Diskussion fährt sich daher in Begriffsprägungen und Wortklaubereien fest und fordert politisch korrekte Umbenennungen ein, bis schließlich die Verwendung des „korrekten“ Namens als Erkennungszeichen für eine bestimmte Denkrichtung gilt – Substantivisten, Formalisten oder Marxisten –, statt den Gegenstand der Transaktion zu klären oder die Konzepte hinter den Praktiken zu erhellen.

I. Der Brautpreis und die soziale Biologie des homo sapiens Brautpreis, Brautgut, Brautgabe – diese drei Termini ringen um die rechte Beschreibung einer Handlung, die sich unserer Logik zu entziehen scheint. Man gibt Güter und erhält eine Person, als ob man Eigentum an ihr erwerbe.3 Fragt man aber die Betroffenen selbst, betonen sie nur zum Teil den Unterschied zwischen dem Kauf einer Konservendose und dem Erwerb einer Frau. In Melanesien gehört die Transaktion der Konservendose in den Bereich der Waren, der mit dem Pigdinwort bisnis bezeichnet wird, die Transaktion der Frau dagegen in den Bereich der Gaben, der kastom heißt; die Ethnie der Sonjo in Tansania verwendet dagegen rein ökonomische Termini für den Brautpreis, während auf Indonesien die Ethnie der Huaulu ihre Frauen zwar kauft, aber nie verkauft.4 Die Liste der Beispiele braucht nicht verlängert zu werden, um den entscheidenden Punkt deutlich zu machen: Sprachregelungen in dieser Frage können kaum verhindern, dass jeder Autor, der sich mit dem Brautpreis beschäftigt, zunächst in der Bringschuld sein wird, zu argumentieren, warum dieser Tausch von Frauen gegen Güter kein Kauf und warum die gegebene Gütermenge kein Preis sein soll.

Die Fruchtlosigkeit der Debatte halte ich für keineswegs zufällig, da sie, auch bei den Forschern selbst, den Kern des Selbstverständnisses als Mensch der Moderne betrifft und das wertfreie Urteil unmöglich macht. Es war die Frage selbst, die Frage nach der Transaktionsart, die irre geleitet hat. Brautpreis und Wergeld basieren auf einem Verhältnis von Wert, Person und Eigentum, das in einem antithetischen Widerspruch zum heutigen Verständnis steht; es deckt sich dagegen mit dem Verhältnis von Wert, Person und Eigentum in den Gesellschaften, die Sklaverei kennen. Die verschiedenen Forschungspositionen zeigen an, inwieweit die Autoren sich von ihren eigenen Prämissen lösen konnten, als Bürger westlicher Demokratien und als Mensch mit Menschenrechten.

So geschah es auch, nachdem der Völkerbund 1927 den Brautpreis als Sklaverei gebrandmarkt hatte (unter dem Protest der Anthropologen). In der Zeitschrift Man stritten von 1929 bis 1931 elf Vertreter der Zunft in 21 Artikeln und Briefen, inwieweit das Kompositionsglied Preis in bride price seine Berechtigung habe oder auf einem grundlegenden Irrtum der frühen Beobachter beruhe. Gegner dieses gewachsenen Terminus, unter anderem Seligman, Radcliffe-Brown und Evans-Pritchard,

In der postaufklärerischen Moderne wird jeder Mensch als eine einzigartige Person anerkannt (Mensch = Person) und der „wahre“ Wert einer Sache gilt als etwas, das zu unterscheiden ist von dem momentan gängigen Marktpreis (Wert ≠ Preis). Diese tief im allgemeinen Bewusstsein

Der Sammelband Hirschon 1983 hält leider nicht, was sein Titel (Woman and property. Woman as property) verspricht, weil den Autorinnen nicht bekannt zu sein scheint, dass es verschiedene Formen des Eigentums gibt. 4 Für PNG: gut beschrieben findet man die Sphärentrennung bei Akin and Robbins 1999, 7-16. Eingeführt wurde die Trennung von Foster 1995, 23-93. Zum Brautpreis: 154-60. Für Tansania: Gray 1960. Für Indonesien: Valeri 1994. 3

Vor dem Mauss’schen Essay über die Gabe diskutierte die historische Schule der Nationalökonomie über den Charakter der sozialen Zahlungen. 2

12

E. Seitz, Der Wert des Menschen und sein Preis bemängelten, dass Preis zwingend implizieren würde, es handele sich um einen Kauf, und betonten, dass die Braut jedoch nicht gekauft werde, weder im Bewusstsein der meisten afrikanischen Ethnien, noch in ihrer Terminologie. Von einem völligen Übergang in das Eigentum des Gatten sei die Übersiedlung der Braut weit entfernt, da meist ihr Klan noch Rechte auf sie behält. Es gehe daher entweder um die Besiegelung des Heiratsvertrages durch ein sichtbares Symbol oder um eine Kompensation, weil der brautgebende Klan ein Mitglied verliert, oder um ein Garantiepfand, das zurückerstattet wird, wenn die Ehe zerbricht. Die Befürworter hatten mit Lord Raglan einen argumentationsschwachen Wortführer, der sich auf die unmittelbare Eingängigkeit des alten Begriffs berief und die Gegner insofern zu entkräften vermochte, als dass für jede der Interpretationen ein Gegenbeispiel gefunden werden konnte. Die Gegner empfahlen als alternative Begriffe earnest, marriage settlement, dowry, indemnity, compensation, bride wealth, hedna und sponsalia, doch als Sieger überlebte nur der vielleicht am wenigsten unmittelbar einleuchtende Begriff bride-wealth. Für seinen Sieg war wohl ein argumentum ex auctoritate ausschlaggebend.5

weil sie als Mensch nicht völlig veräußerlich und damit nicht käuflich sein kann. Elegant ist diese Erklärung, doch bleibt unausrottbar ein Zweifel, ob das biologische Menschsein der Frau in dieser Frage überhaupt zählt. In einem gewissen Automatismus setzt der okzidentale Demokrat seit der Declaration of Rights die Zugehörigkeit zu einer biologischen Gattung gleich mit dem Anspruch auf Rechte, die für alle Mitglieder der Gattung zu gelten hätten. Im Sinne dieses Naturrechts hat jeder Angehörige der Gattung homo sapiens einen Anspruch auf den Status einer gesellschaftlich vollwertigen Person. Was aber, wenn dieses nicht mehr infrage gestellte Naturrecht selbst nichts weiter ist als eine besonders perfide Ausprägung institutionellen Rechts, perfide, weil es den Anspruch erhebt, naturgesetzlich zu sein, und deshalb keiner Rechtfertigung mehr bedarf? Die Gleichsetzung des Menschseins der Frau mit ihrem Status als Person, der unveräußerlich sei, entpuppt sich in diesem Fall als ignoranter Ethnozentrismus derer, die verständige Toleranz predigen, als Erblindung vor den Prämissen der eigenen Kultur, verkauft als nachhaltige Weitsicht. Wenn also auch die grundlegenden Klassifikationen in Natur und Kultur, in Person und Ding, in Subjekt und Objekt bloß institutionelles Recht sind,8 verbietet es sich geradezu, auf das biologische Wesen Rücksicht zu nehmen. Die Rede davon, Frauen könnten nicht veräußerlich sein, kettet sich an den irrigen Glauben, ein Mensch könne nicht veräußerlich sein. Der Veräußerung als Entfremdungsmechanik entziehen sich aber nur die gesellschaftlich vollwertigen Personen – und eben nicht der Mensch per se –, weil nur Personen als Subjekte gelten. Sie allein sind es (und nicht alle Menschen), die Eigentum erwerben können, verstanden als Verfügungsgewalt über oder Zugriffsrecht auf A n d e r e s , das nun als abhängig gilt von dieser Person, als das Eigene des Eigners oder als Besessenes eines Besitzers. Bevor man also den Brautpreis umetikettiert, sollte daher zunächst geklärt werden, wer oder was fähig ist, Person und Subjekt zu sein.

Neuere Interpretationsansätze sind eigentlich nicht hinausgekommen über die Triade Pfand, Kompensation und anerkennendes Siegel, auch wenn der Brautpreis in eine andere Zeitlichkeit gebettet wird. David Graeber interpretiert den Vorgang als Anerkennung einer lebenslangen Schuld, die nicht abgetragen werden kann, wie auch das Wergeld den verlorenen Menschen nicht ersetzt und den Schmerz nicht mildert, sondern mehr Eingeständnis und Anerkennung der Schuld des Mörders ist.6 Die Übergabe des Preises wird zum Vektorpunkt lebenslanger Verpflichtungen, statt in ihr eine einmalige Handlung zur Akquise zu sehen. Was gegeben wird und wieviel gegeben wird, ist bei dieser Art der Interpretation irrelevant, obwohl wir stellenweise horrende Beträge vorfinden wie etwa eine hundertköpfige Herde oder eine Geldsumme, die den Bräutigam dem Ruin nahe bringt.

Jeder feministischen Polemik gegen Lévi-Strauss9 zum Trotz gelten Frauen mit einem Preis als veräußerlich. Auf Papua-Neuguinea basiert die Logik des Frauentausches, wie es Marilyn Strathern nachwies,10 auf einem intermediären Status der Frauen zwischen Subjekt und Objekt. Frauen, Muschelschmuck und Schweine gelten gleichermaßen als „Wohlstand“ (wealth) und können als gemischte Mensch-Tier-Ding-Klasse untereinander Äquivalente bilden, zum Beispiel zwischen Teilen der Frau und Teilen der Objekte. Dieser Wohlstand hat im

Den ökonomischen Wert anerkennend, führte Znoj einen Unterschied zwischen Kaufen und Zahlen ein, oder besser gesagt: zwischen Zahlen und Bezahlen.7 Ehrgeschenke wie der Brautpreis nennt er nichtliquidierende Transaktionen, insofern der Kontakt zwischen den Tauschpartnern nach der Transaktion nicht abbreche, sondern gefestigt werde. Ein Warenhandel habe dagegen nur den Erwerb des transferierten Objektes im Sinn und kappe die Beziehung nach der Übergabe. Eine Frau könne nie eine Ware sein,

Zum Verhältnis Biologie-Institution: Douglas 1986, S. 55-67, 91-109. Vgl. zur Debatte exemplarisch van Baal 1975, 70-96. Es ist hier entscheidend, dass die Frau ein Gut ist und der Mann nicht. Er ist Akteur, sie erfährt die Aktion. Entwertet wird die Frau damit nicht! Bezeichnend sind Sätze wie „Even though behaving as an object, she is not really an object (...)“ (van Baal 1975, 96). Vielleicht sollte man das Verhalten ernst nehmen, anstatt westliche Kriterien heranzuziehen, warum das Verhalten falsch sein müsste. Die Gleichsetzung Güter mit Frauen findet sich bei Lévi-Strauss 1993, 118-27. 10 Strathern 1983, 162-72 8

Ich verzichte auf eine detaillierte Auflistung aller Ausführungen und Repliken. Der direkte Schlagabtausch begann mit Torday 1929 und endete mit Raglan 1931. Zitiert wird üblicherweise Evans-Pritchard 1931, der den Begriff bride-wealth einführte. Für den Gedanken einer kompensatorischen Zahlung, die dem Wergeld gleiche, vergleiche: Radcliffe-Brown 1929. 6 Graeber 2011, 131-44. Zugrunde liegt das Konzept der dette de vie von Rospabé 1995. 7 Znoj 1995, 91-8, 118-31

9

5

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World in der Trennung von Person und Sache manifestiert, ist ein rein gesellschaftlicher Status, der wenig mit der konkreten Lebenswirklichkeit zu tun hat. Wie komfortabel sein Leben auch immer sein mag, ein Mensch, der zum Sklaven wird, gilt in jedem Fall vor dem Recht als Sache und verliert damit den Status als freies Individuum der Gesellschaft (servus non habet personam;14 Dig. 1,5.3: Summa itaque de iure personarum divisio haec est, quod omnes homines aut liberi sunt aut servi).

Ehemann, Vater oder Klan seinen Besitzer und gilt als ein integrales Attribut dieser übergeordneten Personen, weshalb er nicht in der gleichen Weise zu veräußern ist wie die gewöhnliche Habe, sondern unter die Transaktionsart Gabentausch fällt. Nur der Mann kann im papuanischen System eine Person im vollen Wortsinn sein – oder: Eine Person kann nur männlich sein, was eben nicht das gleiche heißt. Der intermediäre Personen-Status der Frauen macht sie also nicht vollständig zu Dingen, aber zu Annexen der subjektfähigen Teile der Gesellschaft und damit zu Teilen der engsten Habe einer Person. Die Semi-Objektivierung ist somit nicht zwangsläufig eine Erniedrigung, eher im Gegenteil, die Frauen gelten als der wertvollste Besitz.

Ist nun die Braut beim Brautpreis eine autonome Person oder steht sie unter dem Verfügungsrecht eines Dritten? Im Sinne dieser Fragestellung ist der Brautpreis zunächst einmal ein Fall für die Ordnungsschemata der Sozialbiologie. Sobald die Braut z. B. als Gut oder Eigentumsteil einer übergeordneten Person zählt, ist ihr der autonomen Status in jedem Fall entzogen und ihre personnage gilt als veräußerliche Rechtssache. Die Voraussetzung ist eine Trennung von menschlichem Individuum und Personenstatus, wie sie heute nicht mehr gezogen wird. Aus diesem Grund wurde wohl 1927 der Brautpreis als eine Form der Sklaverei verurteilt.

Die Begriffe Person und Subjekt wurden jetzt etwas unbedacht ohne nähere Erläuterung eingeführt und dabei der Anschein erweckt, als ob beide Begriffe einander synonym wären. Das lateinische persona bezeichnet zunächst einmal die Maske eines Schauspielers, durch deren Mund er seinen Text erklingen lässt (per-sonare), und meint die (gesellschaftlich typisierte) Rolle (frz. personnage), die das Individuum spielt, nicht aber die Person selbst als ein unverwechselbares Individuum (frz. personne).11 Wie Marcel Mauss beobachtete, fehlte einigen indianischen Stämmen durchaus nicht der Begriff der Person als gesellschaftliche Rolle, wohl aber der Begriff von der Person als autonomes Subjekt mit individuellem Kern, das wir das Ich nennen. In Stamm, Klan und Bruderschaften definiert dort die allgemein tradierte Ordnung feste Personenrollen, die mit Namen ausgestattet werden, mit Ämtern, Ahnen, Masken, Eigenschaften und persönlichen Rechten. Wer eine dieser Positionen erbt oder erobert, bekommt automatisch den Charakter des Verblichenen übertragen und wechselt nur die Maske vor einem gesichtslosen Gesicht. Wenn der subjektive Kern fehlt, ist Maskerade kein Spiel, sondern Metamorphose.12 In der westlichen Moderne hat sich zunächst die Idee entwickelt, dass es ein Ich gibt, das nicht mit der Rolle zusammenfällt und die „eigentliche“ Person ausmacht;13 in einem zweiten Schritt wurde der Status als Person mit einem unverwechselbaren Ich jedem noch so durchschnittlichen Exemplar der Gattung homo sapiens zugeschrieben.

II. Die menschliche Person, ihre Habe und ihre Werte Veräußerlichkeit heißt auf den ersten Blick natürlich nicht unbedingt Käuflichkeit. Folgt man den Theoretikern seit dem Mauss’schen Essai sur le don, gibt es ja zwei Modi des Zahlens, einen für den punktuellen Kauf und einen für die lebenslang verpflichtende Gabe, einen für die Sphäre der Ökonomie und einen für die Sphäre der Moral. Formal lässt sich diese Unterscheidung nicht aufrechterhalten, weil eine Gabe, die zwangsweise erwidert werden muss, einem Kaufhandel zu ähnlich ist.15 Beide Transaktionen sind ein Tausch von Gut gegen Gut oder Leistung gegen Gut oder Leistung gegen Leistung, beide Transaktionen kennen Tauschraten, Profitgier und böse Absicht, beide ermöglichen das Erreichen des Geschäftsziels – Objekterwerb oder Statusänderung in einer soziale Beziehung – erst, wenn ein angemessener Preis geleistet wurde. Ein Blick auf die Sprache und die gesellschaftliche Praxis lässt außerdem erkennen, dass ständig eine Sphäre in die andere übergeht. Will man Brautpreis und Wergeld näher kommen, gilt es zunächst, ein positives Verhältnis zu einer materialistischen Moral zu gewinnen, die den Personenstatus an Besitz kettet.

Der Begriff der Person bildet auch die geistesgeschichtliche Grundlage für die Ausgestaltung des Rechts, das heute wie zu römischer Zeit zwischen Personen und Sachen trennt, jedoch sind diese rechtlichen personae alle rechtsfähigen Subjekte ohne Rücksicht auf ihr biologisches Wesen. Eine Firma tritt heute beispielsweise als Rechtsperson auf, als sei ihre Organisation ein lebendiges Individuum. Was sich

Als Beispiel kann man die altgriechische Epik heranziehen. Bei Homer bezeichnen das Verb tiō „ehren“ und das zugehörige Substantiv timē die Achtung, die einer Person in der Gesellschaft entgegengebracht wird, die Ehre, aber auch den Preis. timao, ein von timē abgeleitetes Verb,

Die Terminologie entleihe ich Mauss 1975, 223-53. Nicht zufällig deckt sich diese geistesgeschichtliche Voraussetzung mit der Beobachtung, dass die Nordwestküstenindianer bei ihren rituellen Maskentänzen keine Rolle spielen, sondern die Rolle sind. Deimel 2011, 217. 13 Mauss 1975 und Kobusch 1997 setzen zwar den Ursprung der Person anders an, halten aber beide den transzendentalen Wert für eine moderne Errungenschaft. 11

12

Zitat dieses römischen Rechtsgrundsatzes ohne Quellenverweis bei Mauss 1975, 244; vgl. Finley 1981, 114-5. 15 Derrida 1993, 16f., 20-8, 61-8 14

14

E. Seitz, Der Wert des Menschen und sein Preis Vor dem Richter der indogermanischen Sprachwissenschaft ist das Ringen um den rechten Begriff, ob Brautpreis oder Brautgabe, eigentlich ganz und gar lächerlich. Taucht man ein wenig in die Semantik der Wörter ein, findet man immer ein Konglomerat aus abstrakten Werten und materieller Übereignung, ohne dass die Sprecher auf die Idee kämen, diesen Vorgang zu verurteilen. Der Mensch kann nämlich schlecht abstrakte Werte, nicht einmal seine eigene Identität denken, ohne sie an die materiellen Dinge seines Eigentums zu ketten.

umschreibt die konkrete Ehrerbietung, die nicht anders vonstatten geht als im Überreichen von Geschenken. Der gleichen Wurzel entstammt tinō, das Verb für „rächen“ und „zahlen“ mit seinen diversen Ableitungen für Schmach, Strafe, Wergeld, Lösegeld (poiné) und Wiedergutmachung. Das Substantiv für Rache, ti-sis, bezeichnet den Akt des Zahlens selbst und könnte von tiō oder tinō kommen, wenn man sich rein auf die Derivationsregeln konzentriert.16 Will man den Kern der Wurzel *ti- < idg. *kwei- fassen, pendelt die Semantik zwischen Anerkennen, Ehren, Zahlen und Rächen.17

Wie die Konsumpsychologie in den letzten Jahren gezeigt hat,18 tickt der Mensch weniger geistvoll, als es das Christentum und der westliche Idealismus vorgaukeln. Er definiert sich auch und gerade über die Objekte, die sich in seinem Besitz befinden. Wer gerne liest, kauft Bücher – oder jammert darüber, nicht genügend Geld zu haben, um seinen Charakter ausleben zu können. Der Anthropologe René Girard hat diese Einsicht in den schönen Satz gegossen: Der Wunsch zu haben ist der Wunsch zu sein.19 Die enge Verquickung von Habe und Identität begründete Girard mit der Nachahmung und lehrte als Erklärungsmodell für menschliches Begehren das mimetische Dreieck (Abb. 1): Der Wille zu haben entspringt demnach nicht aus einer direkten Beziehung zwischen Mensch (A) und Objekt (O), sondern muss im Umweg über einen zweiten Menschen, den Rivalen (B), gedacht werden.

Diese enge Verzahnung von Begriffen der Moral und materieller Übereignung sind ein Schlüssel zur homerischen Gesellschaft. Gabe und Rache sind dort in ihrer friedlichen Ausführung das Gleiche, nämlich Gütertransaktion, zu unterschiedlichem Zweck. Die homerischen Konflikte vom Trojanischen Krieg bis zum Zorn des Achill kreisen stets um geraubte Geschenke und den Anerkennungsverlust, den der Besitzer dadurch erlitt. Was als schenkbares Gut (geras) gilt, nimmt keine Rücksicht auf biologische Befindlichkeiten, sondern ist gesellschaftlicher Status, der Frauen oder Dreifüße ohne Unterschied treffen kann. Homerische Werte sind wenig abstrakt und ihre Materialität geht soweit, dass man ohne mit der Wimper zu zucken von timēn tinō für „rächen“ spricht, das in zwei Arten übersetzt werden kann: Ich bezahle die Ehre oder ich zahle den Preis. Bestechlichkeit schwingt in dieser Formulierung nicht mit, sondern nur die Macht des Faktischen. Der anerkannte Status einer Person ist akkumulierte Güteranhäufung, Ehrverlust kann durch Aneignung ausgeglichen werden. Selbst im Deutschen lassen sich solche Dubletten von Materialität und Moralität finden, obwohl allzu hoch dotierte Geschenke schnell in den Bereich des Sittenwidrigen fallen und man Werte gerne als abstrakte Entitäten klassifiziert. Der Preis, die ökonomische Tauschrate, ist natürlich mit dem Verb preisen verwandt, zu dem Preislied gehört, das Berühmtheit steigert und der Taten Wert ins rechte Licht rückt. Nicht mehr als Anerkennung ist auch ein Preis, der für einen Wettkampf ausgelobt wird, zum Beispiel in Form eines Anhängers aus unedlem Metall an einem Polyesterband. Doch seltsamerweise gilt der Preis mit dem höchstdotierten Preisgeld dann wieder als die höchste Anerkennung. Nicht zuletzt schillert unser Wortpaar Schuld und Schulden: Die Moralschuld und ökonomische Schulden, englisch guilt und debt, führt das Deutsche sprachlich in einem Register.

Abbildung 1 Das mimetische Dreieck René Girards.

Innerhalb des mimetischen Modells verwirklicht das Subjekt seine Persönlichkeit im Widerstreit mit konkurrierenden Rivalen und den Objekten, die sich in deren Besitz befinden; unverwechselbar zu sein heißt demnach, etwas zu haben, das kein anderer hat. Das Credo des Subjekts lautet daher nicht einfach: „Ich will“ (AO), sondern ist stets ein: „Ich will, weil du hast (und ich werden will wie du).“ (A-B-O). Oder: „Ich will, damit du nicht hast (und du nicht wirst wie ich).“ (A-O-B).

Implizit halte ich die Blutrache nur möglich gegen andere Segmente und keineswegs für den Normalfall (ebenso Paul 2005): Die Sühnezahlung geht der Blutrache voraus. Erst wenn ein Staat oder Stamm das Gewaltmonopol ergriffen hat, gilt die Blutrache nicht mehr als mögliche ultima ratio und wird zu einer verfemten Handlungsoption. 17 Das LIV s.v. setzt drei homonyme Wurzeln mit den Bedeutungen aufschichten, anerkennen, rächen an. Zugrunde liegt eine Wurzel, deren Aktion materialistisch verstanden werden muss: Anerkennung und Strafen geschieht im Aufschichten von Gaben. Die zwingende Sichtbarkeit der homerischen Ehre in Gütern ist stets aufgefallen: Wagner-Hasel 2000, 171-96. 16

Dittmar 1992, 185-206 Girard 1992, 120-33. Vgl. ferner Aglietta and Orléan 1984, 25-52; Sloterdijk 2008. 18 19

15

Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World Eine Anthropologie im Gefolge der klassischen Ökonomik ging immer von einem allein stehenden Subjekt aus, das ein Ding braucht und desto mehr befriedigt werden kann, je mehr es von diesem Ding erhält. In Girards allzumenschlichem Reich aus Nachahmung und Eifersucht gibt es dagegen keinen abnehmenden Grenznutzen bei fortwährender Akkumulation, stattdessen steigt der Gewinn an Distinktion gegenüber den Rivalen und wächst die Selbstvergewisserung mit jedem Objekt, das man der Welt entzieht. Im Gegensatz zu Modellen der Evolutionstheorie oder der bedürfnisorientierten Ökonomik kann Girards Ansatz die Formen des unnützen und demonstrativen Konsums erklären,20 insofern sie Identität stiften und der Abgrenzung gegenüber Dritten dienen.

Kommunikationsmodelle geraten bei James‘ Konzept in arge Not, weil sie einen doppelten Sender (Ich und die Anderen) vorfinden und dem Bezeichneten kein festes Signifikat zuweisen können. Bei der Aneignung eines neuen Objekts kann daher die Bedeutung des Neubesitzes nicht vorhergesagt werden, doch mit Sicherheit wird das Objekt mit Bedeutung belegt, weil seine bloße Präsenz den Vergleich mit dem Nachbarn herausfordert.23 Im Gegensatz zur Freud’schen Psychoanalyse und dem daraus entstandenen Konzept der ‚inneren Objektbeziehung‘24 denkt James das Verhältnis des Subjekts zu Objekten und Habe über eine Auseinandersetzung mit einem Dritten als modellhaftem Konkurrenten und sucht die Motivation für Aneignung weniger in einem rein subjektiven Trieb aus unbewussten Tiefen. Haben und Nicht-Haben speisen die kognitive Aufbereitung der eigenen Identität und nach den Parametern des Habens richten sich auch Selbstachtung und Selbstbewusstsein aus.25

Diese Verknüpfung von Habe, Fremdsicht und Identität fordert nichts weniger als den Abschied von einem rein abstrakten Subjekt, wenn wir von Menschen in einer Gesellschaft sprechen und nicht vom Menschen an sich. Individualität in einer Gesellschaft aufzubauen, heißt Differenz in der Habe aufzubauen, und jede wahrgenommene Differenz – das ist eine Metaphysik oder Transzendenz sozialer Art – wird mit Sinn und Bedeutung belastet. Zu den Werten hinter der Physik des Gehabten kommt man, indem man das Gehabte durchschreitet, wieder und wieder, in Auseinandersetzung mit einem Konkurrenten. Wie es das Bourdieu’sche Habituskonzept deutlich gemacht hat, entscheidet nicht die reine Veranlagung des Individuums, sondern das fortwährende Training mit Dingen über die erfolgreiche Ausbildung einer Identität als verfeinerter, grober, gebildeter oder bodenständiger Mensch. 21

Der argusäugige und argwöhnisch beäugte Dritte als Konkurrent der eigenen Persönlichkeit kann auch zur Begründung dienen, warum Mangel entsteht und in einer ungezähmten Ökonomie eher unbegrenzte Gier zu herrschen scheint als ein Wille zur optimalen Verteilung. Eigentlich bietet die Erde alles für unsere lebensnotwendigen Grundbedürfnisse, wir könnten uns als Jäger und Sammler in der Kalahariwüste gesund und ausgewogen ernähren.26 Doch der Mensch hortet, weil er seinen Status und seine Identität an Besitz kettet, und daraus entsteht ihm Mangel, selbst bei bester Versorgung. Er begehrt nicht einfach ein Objekt, wenn er es zum Überleben braucht, er begehrt es stets zur Versicherung seiner eigenen Identität unter den Menschen, insofern er haben will, was ein anderer hat, wenn er so werden will wie dieser Konkurrent. Im Umkehrschluss versteht man auf einmal, warum Habelosigkeit in eigentlich allen Kulturen gleichbedeutend ist mit A-sozialität. Wer nichts hat und nichts verteilt, kann auch nichts erlangen und nichts werden; 27 ihm fehlt die soziale Persönlichkeit.

Vorläufer hierzu ist William James, der Begründer der amerikanischen Psychologie, mit seiner Definition des Selbst (self) innerhalb der Persönlichkeitspsychologie. Während das Ich nur einen unreflektierten Bewusstseinsstrom repräsentiert, ist das Selbst das reflektierte Ich, das eine Antwort geben kann auf die Frage: Was bin ich? Die Teile, aus denen sich das Selbst zusammensetze, seien spiritueller, materieller und sozialer Besitz neben dem reinen Ego. Ich bin also, was meine Werte und meine Habe sind – und was die anderen über mich und meine Habe denken.22 In lapidarem Pragmatismus definiert er:

Habelosigkeit bezeichnet hier den Besitzmangel des Penners, Clochards und Eremiten, nicht die Besitzvermeidung jener bettelnden Mönche jenseits der Mauern ihres mächtigen Klosters, das als Institution Armut verordnet. Diese institutionell verordnete Besitzvermeidung bestätigt im Umkehrschluss das Girard’sche Diktum vom Besitz als Vehikel der eigenen Persönlichkeit. Institutionen haben kein Interesse

In its widest possible sense, however, a man’s self is the sum total of all that he CAN call his, not only his body and psychic powers, but his clothes and his house, his wife and children, his ancestors and friends, his reputation and works, his lands and horses, and yacht and bank-account. (James 1981, 279, Hervorhebung orig.)

Für das Konzept der Präsenz habe ich mich inspirieren lassen von Gumbrecht 2010. Vgl. ferner: Bourdieu 1998. Einen Überblick über fragile Objektsemantik siehe Hahn 2005, 26-36, 113-42. 24 Vgl. Sandler and Sandler 1999; ferner Habermas 1999 als Beispiel für die Fallstricke der Semiotik. 25 Vgl. die Graphik James 1981, 313. Instinkte sind ihm ausdrücklich nicht blind und invariabel (vgl. S. 1004-58). 26 Sahlins 1972, 1-41: “Original Affluent Society” als Antwort auf Galbraiths Affluent Society (Galbraith 1998). 27 Gesellschaften mit einer Moral der Selbstlosigkeit können es allerdings erfordern, der Ärmste zu werden, weil man alles fortgeben musste, um Anerkennung zu gewinnen (De Vries 1853, 141). 23

Begründet 1899 von Thorstein Veblen (Veblen 2007, 79-108). Zum Training: Bourdieu 1998, 41-7. Zum Erheischen von Bedeutung bei jeglichen Unterschieden: Bourdieu 1998, 15-27. 22 James 1981, 279-92 20 21

16

E. Seitz, Der Wert des Menschen und sein Preis an starken, eigenständigen Persönlichkeiten, an ausgebildeten Individuen und Querköpfen. Wer die Institution repräsentiert, soll für ihren Fortbestand sorgen, mehr nicht.28 Organisierte Institutionen bekämpfen sogar die Ausdrucksfähigkeit der Personen durch Besitz, indem sie Differenzen in der Habe beschneiden und egalisieren. Der Mönch, der Soldat, der Kassierer und der Banker tragen gleichermaßen Uniform, damit sie nicht ihr eigenes Selbst zum Ausdruck bringen, sondern Ausdruck der Organisation sind, der sie angehören. Die Persönlichkeit soll verschwinden unter dem autoritativ verordneten Habitus, an die Stelle der Individualität treten Rolle und Funktion.

was angeeignet und veräußert werden kann, nicht nur Bräute und persönliche Werte wie Ehre, sondern auch der Status der Person selbst – und diese Güterzirkulation ist weder theoretisch noch praktisch ein Problem.30 Bestes Beispiel hierfür ist die Sklaverei. Sklave wird man auf zweierlei Art: als Kriegsbeute und als Schuldknecht.31 In den homerischen Epen erbeutet man Sklaven jenseits der Grenze. Anthropologisch erklärt sich dieser Befund aus der segmentären bis schwach hierarchisierten Struktur der homerischen Gesellschaft. Gegenüber Mitgliedern der eigenen Gruppe übt man unbedingte Solidarität, gegenüber Außenstehenden legt man das umgekehrte Verhalten an den Tag: ausgeprägte Fremdenfeindlichkeit und Menschenjagd. Der Sklave selbst muss dienen und steht außerhalb der Solidargemeinschaft, in die er überführt wurde. Deswegen ist er völlig veräußerlich: priasthai, das Wort für „kaufen“ taucht im mykenischen und homerischen Griechenland nur in Verbindung mit Menschen auf.32 Der Sklave scheint die erste voll ausgebildete Ware zu sein, über die Eigentum erworben werden kann, mehr noch als über Dinge, die ein Vehikel der eigenen Anerkennung sind.

Neben dieser freiheitlichen Weihe und Opferung des Selbst zugunsten einer höheren Macht steht, was Goffmann eine ‚totale Institution’ nannte.29 Irrenanstalten und Gefängnisse rauben den Insassen nicht nur die Bewegungsfreiheit, sondern auch die Möglichkeit, ihre Persönlichkeit sichtbar zu machen, sie zu entäußern und auszuleben, sodass die Eingeschlossenen zu einer homogenen Masse entindividualisierter Menschgedinge werden. Die entzogene Freiheit in solchen Institutionen bezieht sich auf Habe und Gebaren gleichermaßen. Auf der Seite des Habens muss aller Besitz bis auf wenige Kleinigkeiten abgegeben werden, der Wohnraum hat bereits Einrichtung, statt eingerichtet zu werden, die Kleidung, die zweite Haut des Menschen, weicht der Sträflingskluft und die Frisur der Einheitsfasson. Auf der Seite des Gebarens sind die Zeiten fremdbestimmt, wann ein Insasse aufsteht, wacht, arbeitet, schläft oder spazieren geht; sie folgen dem Takt der Autorität und liegen außerhalb eines selbstbestimmten Rhythmus des Individuums. Wer in solchen Institutionen seine Freiheit verliert, wird nicht nur von der Gesellschaft isoliert, sondern auch von seinem Selbst entfremdet. Defizitär fühlt sich auch, wer nicht hat, was er glaubt zu sein. Bei den scheinbar abstrakten Werten wie Person und Individuum können wir Moral und Materialität nicht trennen, weil Identität immer ein Bewusstsein ist, das sich gleichermaßen auf Abstraktes und Konkretes richtet. Die Selbstdefinition steht sich nicht vor der Alternative zwischen Haben oder Sein, ihr Ziel ist die Harmonie zwischen Haben und Sein.

Wollte man einen Sklaven befreien, musste ein Lösegeld gezahlt werden. Das Lösegeld ist der Preis eines Mannes, dessen Zahlung ihn wieder als gesellschaftlich anerkannte Person einsetzt. Und der Dichter benutzt das Verb lyo „lösen“ für diese Tätigkeit – das gleiche Wort, das auch die Zahlung eines Wergeldes bezeichnet, für eine Kompensation und Wiederherstellung der Familienehre. Was beide Male stattfindet, ist eine Restituierung des Status als anerkannte Person in den Registern einer materialistischen Moral: Gelöst wird diese Person, insofern sie wegen einer materielle Übereignung Abhängigkeit zu einem anderen verliert und Ehre, Anerkennung und Personalität gewinnt. Die Rhetorik moderner Unbestechlichkeit will den Zusammenhang umkehren und spricht davon, dass man trotz einer materiellen Übereignung des Lobbyisten seine Unabhängigkeit zu wahren imstande war. Übereignung produziert in jedem Falle Bringschuld und provoziert eine Neudefinition des interpersonellen Verhältnisses der Tauschpartner. Eine materialistische Moral, wie wir sie bei den homerischen Griechen finden, integriert dieses ReizReaktionsschema zum Moralprinzip, anstatt es, wie die Moderne es tut, zum Feind der Moral zu stilisieren.

III. Der Wert des Menschen und sein Preis

Die eigene Person unabhängig von der gesellschaftlichen Rolle zu definieren, ist ebenfalls eine äußerst moderne Errungenschaft, die als Entdeckung des Individuums firmiert wird. Autobiographien erlangen in der Moderne

Die Untrennbarkeit von Moral und Materialität, von Habe und Identität, wie ich sie geschildert habe, ist heute faktisch präsent, aber theoretisch prekär. Wenn wir aber versuchen, eine durch und durch materialistische Moral zu denken, gerät die gesamte Umwelt in den Bereich dessen, 28 29

Pace Elwert 1987, 304-6. Elwerts These, die „Venalität“ habe sich in der Vormoderne ausgedehnt, steht unter der Prämisse, der Wert der Gabe sei völlig unterschieden vom Wert der Ware – und die Gabe sei anökonomisch. Ich halte den Güterwert in beiden Transaktionsarten jedoch für gleich und keineswegs negiert im Warentausch. 31 Zur Schuldknechtschaft: Finley 1977. Zu den Unfreiheiten: WickertMicknat 1983. 32 Wagner-Hasel 2000, 243-6; dort auch der Zusammenhang von Grenzüberschreitung und Sklaverei. Zu den mykenischen Verhältnissen: Fischer 2008. 30

Zur natürlichen Trägheit der Institutionen: Douglas 1986, 91-128. Goffmann 1973, 16

17

Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World eine neue Form und entwickeln sich von reinen res gestae als Tatenberichte für die kollektive Erinnerung zu einer Nabelschau, die den eigenen Charakter skizziert und nicht nur die Verdienste.33 Auch hier beginnt man, das Intrinsische jenseits des Äußerlichen zu suchen und ‚Person’ verliert seine lateinische Ursprungsbedeutung als Charaktermaske im Theater.

als hätte ein Rabelais oder ein Surrealist sie verfasst. Ernst genommen steckt dahinter die Auffassung, in all diesen Elementen konvertierbare Güter zu finden, die ein sichtbarer Ausdruck des persönlichen Wertes sind. In der charakteristischen Verknüpfung von Materiellem und Immateriellem kann es keinen Widerspruch zwischen Reichtum und käuflicher Ehre geben, stattdessen ist das Credo ganz homerisch:

Dieses materialistische Prinzip formulierte Thomas Hobbes Anfang der Frühen Neuzeit im Leviathan mit der Klarheit, die für ihn typisch ist:

To give great gifts to a man, is to honour him; because it is buying of protection, and acknowledging of power. (Hobbes 1839, 76-7, Abt. I, 10)

The value, or WORTH of a man, is as of all other things, his price; that is to say, so much as would be given for the use of his power: and therefore is not absolute; but a thing dependent on the need and judgment of another. (Hobbes 1839, 76; Abt. I, 10; Hervorhebung orig.)

Hier kommen nun die zwei Modalitäten des Bezahlens wieder ins Spiel, die Znoj falsch verstanden hat. Zahlen ist eine Aktion, die zwei Zwecke haben kann: Kaufen oder Anerkennen, tiō/tinō oder priasthai. Die Zeitlichkeit der Beziehung zwischen den Tauschpartnern ist dabei völlig irrelevant, es geht um die Deixis. Kaufen zielt auf Etwas, Anerkennen auf Jemanden.36 Was gekauft werden kann, ist nicht nur Eigentum, sondern auch Schutz und Rechte, was anerkannt werden kann, ist nicht nur Ehre, sondern auch der Status, den eine Person erhält. Anerkennen und Kaufen brauchen beide eine exakte Bezifferung des Wertes in Preisen, da Hierarchien und Abhängigkeiten produziert werden, genauer gesagt: Schuldigkeit. Das moralische Preisen oder der ökonomische Preis produzieren, nachdem sie geleistet wurden, beim Empfänger moralische Schuld oder ökonomische Schulden, deren Abtrag in beiden Fällen wieder ökonomischer Natur ist, weil eben der Wunsch zu haben nichts weiter ist als der Wunsch zu sein. Abgelten, vergelten, entgelten sind in gleichem Maß für die ökonomische und moralische Schuld verwendbare Wörter.

Die Definition begreift die Humanevaluation als ein rekursives mimetisches Dreieck, bei dem die Parameter Fremdsicht und materielle Übereignung über den eigenen Status entscheiden (B-O-A). Hobbes entdeckt zwar die Individuen als Substrat eines Staates, sie leben aber noch in einer Gemeinschaft und sind ständig vertikalen Spannungen mit einer Hierarchie ausgesetzt.34 Ohne Hemmung setzt Hobbes den Preis des Menschen gleich mit dem Preis der Dinge in der Sphäre der Ökonomie und sucht gar nicht erst einen Wert jenseits des kurrenten Tauschkurses. Die Frage nach einem „eigentlichen“ Wert, wie es im Deutschen heißt, als einem wahrhaften Transzendenz-Wert, der die Erscheinung im Preis übersteigt, stellt sich für Hobbes gar nicht, denn der Preis ist nicht die Verkörperung der Macht, er ist nur sein transferiertes Gegenstück. Wo die Neoklassiker individuelle Nützlichkeit, die Klassiker und Marxisten gesellschaftliche Arbeit verorten, nämlich in diesem eigentlichen Zentrum, ist bei Hobbes eine leere Mitte, die reine Relativität eines Marktpreises.35

Der Brautpreis ist daher sicher kein verfehlter Begriff, da er den genauen Charakter der Transaktion offen lässt. Wie sich aber kaum bezweifeln lässt, akquiriert der Bräutigam durch den Brautpreis offensichtlich kostenpflichtige Rechte oder Privilegien wie etwa Sex, Arbeit oder die Zugehörigkeit ihrer Kinder zur Familie des Mannes, die er nicht bekäme, wenn er nicht zahlen würde. Diese Umkehrprobe zeigt, dass beim Brautpreis doch ein Tausch stattfindet, den die Gegner des Begriffes leugnen möchten. Doch selbst in ihrer Argumentationslinie behielte der Begriff „Brautpreis“ seine Berechtigung. Während das Pfand sachlich falsch ist, weil nicht in allen Kulturen der Brautpreis zurückerstattet wird, sind Anerkennung und Kompensation durchaus Bereiche, die in einer materialistischen Moral einen Preis kennen, einen Preis, der vom Wert noch ungeschieden ist.37

Hobbes spottet im folgenden Abschnitt sogar auf denjenigen, der seinen Wert selbst festschreiben möchte, weil der Käufer – und nicht der Verkäufer – den Preis bestimme. Die Terminologie des Handels dient Hobbes durchaus nicht als reine Metapher. Manifestation des Wertes ist ihm alles, was ehrt, namentlich Ämter des öffentlichen Lebens, Gehorsam, Gebete, Geschenke, Herrschaftsinsignien, Vertrauen, Annahme eines Ratschluss, Lob und Titel. Die Aufzählung müsste gattungsgemäß ernst gemeint sein, erscheint aber wie eine literarische Liste, die chaotisch das Unähnliche ballt,

Die Unterscheidung Etwas und Jemand habe ich mir von Spaemann entliehen, der damit gut den Status des Sklaven als Etwas und den der Person als Jemand fassen kann. Spaemann 1996, 11f. 37 Einen Überblick über die Entwicklung der Theorie von Wert und Preis gibt Lichtblau 2007. Interessanterweise hat sich Mauss nicht recht gegen den Terminus Brautkauf (und nie gegen den Ausdruck Preis) gewehrt, obwohl er ihn als Teil der totalen Leistungen sieht (vgl. Mauss 1990, 45, im Orig. prix d’achat (!) de la fiancée). Im germanischen Raum betont er dagegen die Funktion des Brautpreises als Pfand (Mauss 1990, 151) und 36

Weintraub 1982, xi-xix, 1-18, 377-9 Eine gelungene Einführung in die Hobbes’sche Methode und den Kontrast zu bisherigen Staatslehren bietet Kersting 2009, 17-66. 35 Foucault 1974, 212 konstatiert eine systematische Verwechslung von Wert und Preis vor dem 18. Jh. und zeichnet nach, wie erst das gemeinsame Maß der Arbeit gefunden werden musste, um den Wert eigenständig zu definieren (Foucault 1974, 211-68, 274-9, 310-22). 33 34

18

E. Seitz, Der Wert des Menschen und sein Preis IV. Das doppelte Eigentum

seiner Person, ihres Status und ihrer Beziehungen. Die freie Person der Moderne als rechtliches Konstrukt ist unverkäuflich und nicht belastbar, sie steht außerhalb jeder preislichen Bezifferung. Die Person – das ist entscheidend – kann nicht in interpersonellen Verträgen verpfändet werden und nicht als Sicherheit dienen für ein Kreditgeschäft. Hypotheken laufen auf Häuser, Autos, Fernseher, aber nie auf Menschen.41

Um das Verhältnis zwischen Person und Gesellschaft zu erklären, entwickelte die französische Anthropologie Ende des zwanzigsten Jahrhunderts das Konzept der Lebensschuld, der dette de vie.38 Schuld gibt es demnach nicht nur horizontal zwischen Vertragspartnern, sondern auch vertikal zwischen dem Individuum und der Gesellschaft. Das Individuum sei von Geburt an verschuldet gegenüber dieser höheren Instanz, dem es sein soziales Leben verdankt. Man zahle Steuern, Abgaben, Opfer, um sich davon zu lösen, ohne sich jemals lösen zu können. Das Problem ist nur – wie David Graeber in seinem neuesten Buch richtig erkannt hat:39 Schuld impliziert eigentlich per definitionem die Rückzahlbarkeit und Befreiung als Möglichkeit für denjenigen, der verschuldet ist, ansonsten wäre es Schicksal, dem man sich blind zu ergeben hätte.

Als passende Parallele für den Begriff des absoluten Eigentums erscheint zunächst die mittelalterliche Unterscheidung zwischen proprietas plena und proprietas nuda.42 Das nackte Eigentum ist abstrakte Gehörigkeit über ein Gut, ohne die Früchte nutzen zu können, während das volle Eigentum den Nießbrauch einschließt. Die Früchte des Gutes ‚Person’ sind jedoch die Produkte seiner Arbeit und können in der Moderne verwendet und mit einem Preis versehen werden. Eingeschlossenes Nutzungsrecht finden wir hingegen beim Rechtskonzept der res extra commercium,43 derjenigen Dinge, die außerhalb des Rechtsverkehrs stehen und nicht gehandelt werden dürfen. Zu diesen Rechtsdingen zählten Luft, Wasser, Plätze, Straßen und heilige Objekte als öffentliche oder extrahumane Güter; sie waren dem alleinigen Zugriff einer Privatperson entzogen und dienten im weitesten Sinn dem allgemeinen Wohl. Die Moderne entzieht den Personenstatus oder Subjektstatus des Menschen dem Rechtsverkehr, und das nicht aus Gründen des öffentlichen Nutzens, sondern wegen der absoluten Freiheit, die sie dem Individuum zuschreibt. Dieses Postulat stellt Tag für Tag die Exekutive in Gefängnissen und Irrenanstalten infrage, wenn sie vom Schutz der Gesellschaft spricht. Die Autonomie der Person des Bürgers steht in einem ständigen Konflikt mit einer von ihm geschaffenen Rechtsperson, dem Leviathan des Staates.

Das Verhältnis des Individuums zur Gesellschaft kann meines Erachtens nur schlecht in diese Terminologie eingepasst werden. Der passende Zugriff liegt weniger in der Schuld als im Eigentum. Wem gehören eigentlich mein Land und mein Haus? Wenn ich Mieter bin, steht ein Eigentümer über mir, aber selbst wenn ich Eigentümer bin, steht der Staat über mir als eine Art transzendentalem oder absolutem Eigentümer der letzten Instanz. Praktisch heißt das: Ich kann mein Stück Land nicht für autonom erklären oder an Frankreich verkaufen, ohne einen Konflikt mit dem Staat zu provozieren und seine Gewalt zu spüren. Wessen Herr ich in der Demokratie sein sollte, dessen Knecht werde ich mit einem Mal. Der Staat darf über mich verfügen, als sei ich ein besessenes Gedinge. Außerdem nutznieße ich Staatsland – selbst wenn ich es mein Eigentum nenne – und zahle hierfür Steuern und Abgaben wie ein Mieter seine Miete an den absoluten Eigentümer. Nicht die Schuld, wie die Theoretiker der dette de vie denken, sondern das Eigentum verdoppelt sich in eine horizontale und eine vertikale Richtung, in ein interpersonelles Eigentum und ein Eigentum zwischen Individuum und Gesellschaft. Dieses Problem des doppelten Eigentums40 stellt sich genauso in vormodernen Stammesgesellschaften: Was gehört mir und inwieweit gehöre ich und meine Habe dem Stamm oder dem Klan?

Ein anderes Eigentumsverhältnis zur Person findet sich in Gesellschaften mit den Institutionen Brautpreis, Wergeld, Sklaverei und Schuldknechtschaft. Brautpreis und Wergeld kennen feste Preise. Die Person und ihr Status konstituieren sich so sehr über Besitz und den Erhalt von Besitz im Tausch, dass der Rechtsstatus als Person selbst Gegenstand der Tauschbarkeit wird. Als Beutesklave verliert man den Personenstatus durch Pech, als Schuldsklave durch Verpfändung, durch eine Hypothek auf sich selbst, auf seine eigene Person, und man kann diesen Status nur zurückerlangen, wenn ein Lösegeld gezahlt wird. Kein absolutes, nur gewöhnliches Eigentum besitzt man in solchen Gesellschaften an seiner eigenen Person. Das gewöhnliche Eigentum ist tauschbar und damit potentiell verkäuflich.

Das vertikale, das absolute Eigentum ist ganz wörtlich als losgelöst zu verstehen, weil es sich der Sphäre der Tauschbarkeit entzieht. Ich kann meine Staatsangehörigkeit nicht verkaufen und jemand anderem übertragen, während das mit meinem übrigen Eigentum möglich ist. In der modernen Ideologie ist der Mensch absoluter Eigentümer verwendet ironische Anführungszeichen. 38 Rospabé 1995; Aglietta and Orléan 2002, 7-11, 46-53 39 Graeber 2011, 62 40 MacPherson 1980, 15 macht aufmerksam auf das Privateigentum des Individuums als stille Prämisse der Moderne. Mit dem Begriff „kollektives Eigentum“ ist zuviel Schindluder getrieben worden, als dass er verwendbar wäre. Das ist auch nicht die Idee, sondern: Das Privateigentum wird auf hierarchisch höherer Ebene zu bloßem Besitz. Oder anders formuliert: Was ist selbst bei Privateigentum dem Zugriff und der Verfügbarkeit entzogen?

Das Privileg, dass wir hingegen ein absolutes Eigentum an unserer eigenen Person besitzen, erscheint uns so selbstverständlich, dass es Mühe macht, die Debatte Im Gegensatz zum Nexum im röm. Recht, vgl. Mauss 1990, 121-7. Gefunden in Luhmann 1988, 193. 43 Zu diesem Rechtskonzept: Weidner 2001, 1-33. 41 42

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World nachzuvollziehen, die sich in der Frühen Neuzeit um die Frage entspann, wieweit ein Bürger auf sich selbst Zugriff haben dürfe. Rousseau wandte sich im Contrat Social, Mill in seiner Abhandlung On Liberty gegen eine absolute Verfügbarkeit über sich selbst, die so weit ginge, dass sich der Mensch aus eigenem Antrieb heraus verkaufen könne.44 Absolute Unveräußerlichkeit des eigenen Körpers würde zu sehr zum Essentiellen des Menschen gehören, als dass es eine Freiheit geben könne, nicht frei zu sein. Was hier als Freiheit bezeichnet wird, ist ein absolutes Eigentum an der eigenen Person, das der Staat, zumindest in den Theorien des Sozialvertrags, nicht antasten kann. Der Wert des Menschen rutscht in der Moderne aus der tauschbaren Sphäre heraus und kennt keine Äquivalente mehr. So formuliert Kant als Antithese zu Hobbes:

der Menschenwelt. Der Wert des Menschen ist sein Preis, aber der höchste Wert des Menschen seine Preislosigkeit. Bibliographie Abkürzungen LIV

Rix, H. and M. Kümmel 22001. Lexikon der indogermanischen Verben. Wiesbaden, Reichert.

Aglietta, M. and A. Orléan 1984. La violence de la monnaie. Paris, Presses universitaires de France. Aglietta, M. and A. Orléan 2002. La monnaie entre violence et confiance. Paris, O. Jacob. Akin, D. and J. Robbins 1999. Money and Modernity. Pittsburgh, Pa, University of Pittsburgh Press. Bohannan, P. 1955. Some principles of exchange and investment among the Tiv. American Anthropologist, 57, 60–70. Bourdieu, P. 1998. Praktische Vernunft. Frankfurt am Main, Suhrkamp. Deimel, C. 2011. Der große Potlatch. In C. Deimel and S. E. Holland (eds): The Power of Giving, 213-17. Berlin, Deutscher Kunstverlag. Derrida, J. 1993 [1991]. Falschgeld. Zeit Geben I. München, Fink. De Vries, D. 1853. Voyages from Holland to America, A.D. 1632 to 1644. Oxford, Bilin and Brothers. Dittmar, H. 1992. The Social Psychology of Material Possessions. Hemel Hempstead, Harvester Wheatsheaf. Douglas, M. T. 1986. How Institutions Think. Syracuse, NY, Syracuse University Press. Elwert, G. 1987. Ausdehnung der Käuflichkeit und Einbettung der Wirtschaft. In K. Heinemann (ed.), Soziologie wirtschaftlichen Handelns, 300-21. Opladen, Westdeutscher Verlag. Evans-Pritchard, E. 1931. An alternative term for “BridePrice”. Man (Old Series) 31, 36-9. Finley, M. I. 1977. Die Schuldknechtschaft. In H. G. Kippenberg (ed.), Seminar: Die Entstehung der antiken Klassengesellschaft, 173-204. Frankfurt am Main, Suhrkamp. Finley, M. I. 1981. Die Sklaverei in der Antike. München, C. H. Beck. Fischer, J. 2008. Sklaverei und Menschenhandel im mykenischen Griechenland. In H. Heinen and J. Deissler (eds), Menschenraub, Menschenhandel und Sklaverei in antiker und moderner Perspektive, 45-85. Stuttgart, F. Steiner. Foster, R. J. 1995. Social Reproduction and History in Melanesia. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Foucault, M. 1974. Die Ordnung der Dinge. Frankfurt am Main, Suhrkamp. Galbraith, J. K. 1998. The Affluent Society. Boston, Houghton Mifflin. Girard, R. 1992. Das Heilige und die Gewalt. Frankfurt am Main, Fischer-Taschenbuch-Verl. Goffman, E. 1973. Asyle. Frankfurt am Main, Suhrkamp.

Im Reich der Zwecke hat alles entweder einen Preis, oder eine Würde. Was einen Preis hat, an dessen Stelle kann auch etwas anderes als Äquivalent gesetzt werden; was dagegen über allen Preis erhaben ist, mithin kein Äquivalent verstattet, das hat eine Würde. (Kant 1786, 77; Hervorhebung orig.) Hier gliedert sich das Konzept des Wertes auf in einen bezifferbaren Preis und eine unbezifferbare Würde und es trennen sich die Sphären von zweckhafter Ökonomie und zwecksetzender Moral, deren Güte antimaterialistisch gemessen wird. Diese Würde ist es, gegen die der Brautpreis verstößt, und zwar definitorisch verstößt. Selbst wenn die Braut als vollwertige Person gilt und sich nur der Rechtsperson ihres Klans unterordnen muss, widerspricht der Preis selbst den wichtigsten Grundsätzen einer westlichen Demokratie. Der erste Artikel des Grundgesetzes und der Menschenrechtscharta der Vereinten Nationen sind ein Echo des Kant’schen Diktums, das noch heute nicht verklungen ist. Mit Bezug auf diesen Artikel im Grundgesetz verurteilte das Oberlandesgericht Hamm 2011 den Brautpreis dann auch im Sinne einer antimaterialistischen Moral als sittenwidrig.45 Die Ideologie einer Kultur zeigt sich weniger darin, welches Gut gekauft und welches geschenkt wird;46 der ideologische Kern verbirgt sich hinter der Frage, was mittels Gütern eingetauscht und was dagegen niemals ein Gut werden kann. Erst dann sieht man die historische Entwicklung klar und kann den Unterschied zwischen einem demokratischen und einem hierarchischen Menschenbild definieren. In der individualistischen Moderne verliert die Person an Käuflichkeit, während alle Dinge zu Waren werden. Mit dem Wachsen der Käuflichkeit in der Objektwelt schrumpft die Käuflichkeit

Horwitz 1999, 35f. Oberlandesgericht Hamm Urteil vom 13.01.2011 – I-18 U 88/10. 46 Contra Bohannan 1955 44 45

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E. Seitz, Der Wert des Menschen und sein Preis Graeber, D. 2011. Debt. Brooklyn, N.Y, Melville House. Gray, R. 1960. Sonjo bride-price and the question of African “wife purchase”. American Anthropologist, 62, 34-57. Gumbrecht, H. U. 2010. Diesseits der Hermeneutik. Frankfurt am Main, Suhrkamp. Habermas, T. 1999. Geliebte Objekte. Frankfurt am Main, Suhrkamp. Hahn, H. P. 2005. Materielle Kultur. Berlin, Reimer. Hirschon, R. (ed.) 1983. Women and Property. Women as Property. London, Croom Helm. Hobbes, T. 1839. Leviathan or the matter, form, and power of a Commonwealth ecclesiastical and civil. In W. Molesworth (ed.), The English Works of Thomas Hobbes of Malmesbury 3. London, John Bohn. Horwitz, M. J. 1999. Eigentum und Person. In H. Siegrist and D. Sugarman (eds), Eigentum im internationalen Vergleich, 33-45. Göttingen, Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. James, W. 1981. The Principles of Psychology. Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press. Kant, I. ²1786. Grundlegung zur Metaphysik der Sitten. Riga, Hartknoch. Kersting, W. 2009. Thomas Hobbes zur Einführung. Hamburg, Junius. Kobusch, T. 1997. Die Entdeckung der Person. Darmstadt, Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft. Lévi-Strauss, C. 1993 [1967]. Die elementaren Strukturen der Verwandtschaft. Frankfurt am Main, Suhrkamp. Lichtblau, K. 2007. Wert / Preis. In J. Ritter (ed.), Historisches Wörterbuch der Philosophie 12, 586-91. Basel, Schwabe. Luhmann, N. 1988. Die Wirtschaft der Gesellschaft. Frankfurt/M, Suhrkamp. Macpherson, C. B. 1980. Die politische Theorie des Besitzindividualismus. Frankfurt am Main, Suhrkamp. Mauss, M. 1975. Eine Kategorie des menschlichen Geistes: Der Begriff der Person und des „Ich“. In H. Ritter and A. Schmalfuß (eds), Marcel Mauss: Soziologie und Anthropologie, 223-53. München, Carl Hanser. Mauss, M. 1990. Die Gabe. Frankfurt am Main, Suhrkamp. Paul, A. 2005. Die Rache und das Rätsel der Gabe. Leviathan 33.2, 240-56. Radcliffe-Brown, A. 1929. Bride-Price, earnest or indemnity. Man (Old Series) 29, 131-2. Raglan, F. R. S. 1931. Bride-Price. Man (Old Series) 31, 284. Rospabé, P. 1995. La dette de vie. Paris, Découverte; M.A.U.S.S. Sahlins, M. 1972. Stone Age Economics. New York, Aldine de Gruyter. Sandler, J. and A.-M.Sandler 1999. Innere Objektbeziehungen. Stuttgart, Klett-Cotta. Sloterdijk, P. 2008. Erwachen im Reich der Eifersucht. Notiz zu René Girards anthropologischer Sendung. In R. Girard (ed.), Ich sah den Satan vom Himmel fallen wie einen Blitz, 240-54. Leipzig, Verlag der Weltreligionen. Spaemann, R. 1996. Personen. Stuttgart, Klett-Cotta.

Strathern, M. 1983. Subject or object? Women and the circulation of highlands New Guinea. In R. Hirschon (ed.), Women and Property, 158-75. London, Croom Helm. Torday, E. 1929. Bride-Price, dower, or settlement. Man (Old Series) 29, 5-8. Valeri, V. 1994. Buying women but not selling them: gift and commodity exchange in Huaulu alliance. Man (New Series) 29, 1-26. van Baal, J. 1975. Reciprocity and the Position of Women. Assen, Van Gorcum. Veblen, T. 2007 [1899]. Theorie der feinen Leute. Frankfurt am Main, Fischer-Taschenbuch-Verlag. Wagner-Hasel, B. 2000. Der Stoff der Gaben. Frankfurt, Campus. Weidner, A. 2001. Kulturgüter als res extra commercium im internationalen Sachenrecht. Berlin, De Gruyter. Weintraub, K. 1982. The Value of the Individual. Chicago, University of Chicago Press. Wickert-Micknat, G. 1983. Unfreiheit im Zeitalter der homerischen Epen. Wiesbaden, Franz Steiner Verlag. Znoj, H. P. 1995. Tausch und Geld in Zentralsumatra. Berlin, Reimer.

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Vergessen und neu belebt – das neolithische Steinbeil von seiner Produktion bis in die Neuzeit Jennifer M. Bagley

Im Zeitraum ihrer Entstehung dienten neolithische Steinbeile vor allem als multifunktionale Werkzeuge. Seltener konnten sie in Abhängigkeit von Form, Material, Farbe, Herkunft oder Schäftung aber auch anderen, sozialen oder religiösen Zwecken zugeführt werden. Mit dem Ende der Steinzeit ging das Wissen um die Beile und deren Bedeutung verloren, die Objekte selbst konnten und können aber auch heute noch zufällig gefunden werden und bedürfen einer Erklärung. Beginnend mit den Metallzeiten lässt sich eine magische Bedeutung der Beile nachvollziehen, die ab der römischen Antike einen Schwerpunkt im Schutz vor Blitzen aufweist. Trotzdem lassen sich regionale und zeitliche Verschiebungen in ihrer Interpretation nachzeichnen, etwa in der Assoziation mit Zeus, Jupiter oder Thor. Der vorliegende Beitrag beleuchtet an diesem Beispiel die Beziehung zwischen Menschen und Dingen. Dabei stellt sich heraus, dass es sich um ein wechselseitiges Verhältnis handelt, in dem die Dinge keinen rein passiven Charakter besitzen, sondern den Menschen zum Handeln animieren – andererseits aber einer kulturellen Aneignung unterliegen, die sich in der Änderung des Namens, der Bedeutung und des Wertes und seltener sogar der Form äußert. Dass es sich bei Dingen aber um eigenständige Akteure im Sinne der Akteur-Netzwerk-Theorie Bruno Latours handelt, wird hier abgelehnt. Neolithische Steinbeile, Donnerkeile, Mensch-Ding-Beziehung, Akteur-Netzwerk-Theorie, Kulturelle Aneignung

Neolithic stone tools were mainly used as multifunctional utensils at the time of their creation. In some cases and depending on their form, material, colour, provenance or mounting, they were probably used in social and religious contexts as well. The knowledge of these axes, their usage and meaning, was lost at the end of the Stone Age. But the objects were still found and continue to be found today and their existence needs explanation. Beginning with the Bronze Age a magical meaning was likely associated with these objects, suggested by the archaeological finds. From antiquity onwards this meaning focused on protection from thunderbolts. However there are regional and chronological shifts in the interpretation of these objects, for example through their association with Zeus, Jupiter or Thor. Building on this example, the relationship between humans and objects is analysed. It becomes clear that this is a mutual bond, in which the object does not have a passive character, but pushes man to act. In this relationship the object is also liable to cultural acquirement through the changing of its name, meaning, value, and sometimes even its form. Nevertheless, this contribution questions the idea that objects act as independent actors within a network of humans and things as suggested by Bruno Latour. Neolithic stone Axes, thunderstones, human-object-relations, Actor-Network-Theory, cultural acquirement

„Cerauniae, so ihren Namen davon haben, daß man annimmt, sie fallen mit dem Blitze aus den Wolken herab. Sie sind von verschiedener Form, oft kegelförmig oder wie ein Hammer, oder wie ein Beil mit einem Loch in der Mitte. Es gibt verschiedene Meinungen über ihren Ursprung, in dem einige, da sie Geräten aus Eisen gleichen, annehmen, sie seien nicht Donnersteine, sondern wirkliche, versteinerte Eisengeräte. Diese Meinung aber wird widerlegt durch Beobachtungen vertrauenswürdiger Leute, welche diese Steine gerade an den Orten gefunden haben, wo der Blitz in ein Haus, einen Baum oder ähnliches eingeschlagen hat. Darum sagt man, daß sie sich bilden, aus der Vermischung der Blitzdämpfe, mit metallischen Stoffen und der

dichten Feuchtigkeit in den dicken Wolken, wozu sich der Einfluß der Wärme von Sonne, Sternen und dem flammenden Blitz gesellt. Auch diese Anschauung hat zwar ihre Schwierigkeiten wegen der verschiedenen Formen der Durchbohrungen; doch hat sie große Wahrscheinlichkeit für sich. Andere nehmen an, daß der Sturm die Steine, die sich in der Erde bilden, hoch in den Himmel hebt und daß sie dann wieder mit dem Blitz herabfallen; aber auch diese Auffassung enthält gewisse Bedenklichkeiten.1“

1

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O. Worm, Museum Wormianum, 1655. Zitiert nach Reitinger 1976, 523.

Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World Einleitung – Form und Eigenschaften materieller Kultur

Soziologie und Technik zu beobachten, das Objekt wird zum Mittler, das nicht nur Sinn transportiert, sondern selbst Sinn konstituiert und/oder modifiziert. Damit erhält der Schlüssel ein Eigenleben – er wird zum Aktanten in einem Netzwerk, das sich aus der Wohnsituation und allen weiteren daran beteiligten Aktanten (menschlichen wie nicht-menschlichen) entspinnt.7

Wir sind in unserem Alltag umgeben von zahllosen Dingen, die wir in der Regel ohne weitere Reflektion nutzen. Das Erkenntnispotential der Untersuchung von Dingen – der Begriff wird hier für von Menschenhand gefertigte Objekte verwendet – ist in den letzten Jahren von unterschiedlichen Seiten betont worden. So beschäftigen sich neben der Archäologie und Ethnologie in letzter Zeit auch die Soziologie, Psychologie und Philosophie mit der Welt der Dinge.2 Dabei stellt sich immer wieder die Frage, welche Rolle die materielle Kultur für den Menschen und die Gesellschaft spielt. Dem Objekt wird in den letzten Jahren von unterschiedlichen Seiten eine mehr oder weniger aktive Rolle im Sinne einer „material agency“ zugesprochen. So spricht etwa der französische Soziologe Bruno Latour von Dingen als eigenständigen Aktanten in einem Netzwerk aus Menschen, Objekten und Hybriden.3 Ausgangspunkt ist dabei eine Kritik an der Moderne, die eine Unterscheidung von Natur und Gesellschaft vornimmt, die nach Auffassung Bruno Latours in der Realität aber nicht besteht.4 Daraus entwickelt er seine Form der AkteurNetzwerk-Theorie5, in der die Dinge über Handlungsmacht verfügen, die außerhalb des menschlichen Einflusses liegt. Auf das einzelne Individuum und seine Beziehung zum Objekt bezogen verdeutlicht er dies etwa am Beispiel des „Berliner Schlüssels“.6 In Berlin wurden über einen gewissen Zeitraum Schlüssel produziert, die über zwei Bärte verfügten. Von außen musste die dazugehörige Tür aufgeschlossen werden, dann musste der Schlüssel durch das Schlüsselloch nach Innen geschoben werden, um auf der Innenseite die Tür wieder zu verschließen. Nur nach dem Abschließen der Tür von Innen konnte der Schlüssel wieder gezogen werden. So wollte man vermeiden, dass Fremde die betreffenden Gebäude unbefugt betreten konnten und die Hausordnung, die ein Verschließen der Tür von 20 Uhr bis 8 Uhr vorsah, eingehalten wurde. Bruno Latour fragt nun nach dem Wesen dieses Schlüssels. In gewisser Weise ersetzt der Schlüssel Schilder, die auf die Hausordnung verweisen oder Vermieter, die auf eben diese aufmerksam machen. Damit wäre er aber „nur“ ein Zeichen, was der Qualität des Schüssels nach Meinung Bruno Latours nicht gerecht werden würde. Darüber hinaus repräsentiert er soziale Beziehungen: Die von Vermieter und Mieter, Hauswarten, Dieben und den Ingenieuren und Schlossern, die den Schlüssel konzipiert haben. Aber auch dies wird nach Auffassung Bruno Latours der Realität noch nicht gerecht. Vielmehr ist hier eine Verbindung von

Vor diesem theoretischen Hintergrund werden in den letzten Jahren vor allem in der englischsprachigen Theoriediskussion zur Archäologie Fragen gestellt wie etwa „was Objekte wollen“, in welcher Beziehung sie zum menschlichen Körper stehen und welche Konsequenzen dies für die Entwicklung des Menschen und der Gesellschaft hat.8 Um sich der Frage nach der Beziehung zwischen Mensch und Ding und damit auch nach der Bedeutung der Dinge zu nähern, müssen diese auf zwei Ebenen betrachtet werden: Zum einen handelt es sich um eine stoffliche Präsenz, zum anderen haben Objekte eine symbolische Bedeutung. Beide Aspekte sind miteinander verschränkt, sollten aber immer eigenständig berücksichtigt werden. Material und Form eines Objektes legen eine bestimmte Nutzung nahe. Diese wird in der Regel durch den Menschen im Laufe des Lebens erlernt und unterliegt kulturellen Konventionen. Zwar ist auch eine „Zweckentfremdung“ denkbar, doch werden sich daraus nicht die vollen Möglichkeiten des entsprechenden Objektes ergeben. Bei Dingen des Alltags überwiegen die materiellen Aspekte, aber auch diese können, etwa im Laufe einer individuellen menschlichen Biographie, mit symbolischen Bedeutungen aufgeladen werden. Bei anderen Objekten, vor allem solchen, die in der Ritualpraxis eingesetzt werden, steht die symbolische Ebene im Vordergrund. Auch hier spielen Form und Material aber immer eine große Rolle. Unter Berücksichtigung dieser beiden Ebenen – Material und Form sowie symbolische Bedeutung – wird Dingen ein Wert zugeschrieben. Er bezieht sich damit zum einen auf eine ökonomische Ebene: auf das Zusammenspiel von Angebot und Nachfrage, den Arbeitsaufwand, die Herkunft usw., zum anderen auf die symbolischen Bedeutungen der Dinge – ihre Relation zu den Werten und dem Weltbild einer Gesellschaft. Beides wirkt sich auch auf den Preis aus. So macht etwa Igor Kopytoff darauf aufmerksam, dass der hohe Preis von Kunst in unserer modernen Gesellschaft vor allem damit zu erklären sei, dass die Kunst und der Künstler einen hohen Stellenwert in unserer Vorstellung von Kultur einnehmen.9 Für Tomáš Sedláček ist sogar die

Einführend zur materiellen Kultur siehe Hahn 2005. Für unterschiedliche Ansätze aus den genannten Disziplinen siehe etwa Bosch 2010; Habermas 1999; Senett 2008; Liessmann 2010 (hier allerdings mit einem sehr weit gefassten Dingbegriff). 3 Bei Hybriden handelt es sich um Mischwesen aus Natur und Gesellschaft. Ein Beispiel bildet das Ozonloch, einem Phänomen, an dem Politik, Wissenschaft, Wirtschaft und Natur beteiligt sind (Latour 1998, 7-8). 4 Latour 1998 5 Einführend in die Actor-Network-Theory Latour 2010. 6 Latour 1996

Kurz vor Fertigstellung des Manuskripts wurde ich auf einen Beitrag M. Jungs (Jung 2012) aufmerksam gemacht, der sich am Beispiel eines Steinbeiles von der Côte d’Ivoire mit dem Konzept der Objektbiographie beschäftigt, in einem zweiten Schritt aber auch auf die Actor-NetworkTheory im Sinne Latours zu sprechen kommt und hier Kritik übt. Seiner Meinung nach ist „das Fehlen einer Theorie regelgeleiteten Handelns, mit der die Eigenlogik des Sozialen zur Geltung gebracht werden könnte“ (Jung 2012, 381) der Grund für die Überbewertung der Dinge im Sinne eigenständiger Aktanten. 8 Gosden 2005; Malafouris and Renfrew 2010 9 Kopytoff 1986, 82

2

7

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J. M. Bagley, Vergessen und neu belebt ganze Ökonomie nicht von den Wertvorstellungen einer Gesellschaft zu trennen.10 Dabei kann sich der Wert der Dinge im Laufe der Zeit verändern, etwa wenn sich Werte und Konventionen einer Gesellschaft verändern. Zum Teil spielen hier aber auch Mechanismen der Mode eine Rolle – so können Objekte im Laufe ihres „Lebens“ zu Müll und zu einem anderen Zeitpunkt zu begehrten Antiquitäten werden.11 Dabei verändert sich sowohl der Preis der Dinge als auch deren Wertschätzung. Solche Veränderungen lassen sich vor allem durch schriftliche und mündliche Berichte rekonstruieren. Eine Analyse urgeschichtlicher Funde ist aufgrund des Fehlens entsprechender Quellen eine Herausforderung. Durch die Kontextualisierung der Funde und die damit verbundene Rekonstruktion ihrer Nutzung lassen sich aber Indizien für die angesprochenen Wertsetzungsprozesse sammeln.

Abbildung 1 Depotfund mit fünf Beilklingen aus Jadeitit aus Mainz-Gonzenheim © GDKE-Lmmz (Ursula

Vor diesem Hintergrund werden in der Folge neolithische Steinbeile untersucht. Von besonderem Interesse ist dabei die Nutzung der betreffenden Objekte über mehrere Jahrtausende, jeweils unter anderen Voraussetzungen und mit unterschiedlichen Bedeutungen verbunden. Dabei erstreckt sich der Gebrauch von nicht-schriftführenden Kulturen des europäischen Neolithikums bis in die frühe Neuzeit und verdeutlicht dabei die Unterschiede in den jeweiligen Interpretationsmöglichkeiten und Bedeutungen. In welcher Beziehung stehen also solche Beile zu ihren Nutzern? Lassen sich Anhaltspunkte zu ihrem symbolischen und/oder ökonomischen Wert finden? Lassen sich Netzwerke rekonstruieren und wodurch werden diese geschaffen? Was wollen neolithische Beile – und wollen sie überhaupt etwas?

ist.14 Auch das Material mit seinen zum Teil kräftigen Grüntönen spricht für eine außergewöhnliche symbolische Bedeutung. Neben den Flachbeilen werden im Spät- und Endneolithikum Schaftlochäxte und –hämmer hergestellt, die sich zumindest zu Beginn in ihrer Form an kupferne Exemplare anlehnen. Dafür sprechen auch schmale Grate oder Rillen, die sich über einige Objekte ziehen und als Reminiszenzen an Gußnähte interpretiert werden.15 Diese entwickeln aber wohl schnell eine Eigendynamik und dienen auf zahlreichen Beispielen als zierende Elemente, ohne dass der Verweis auf kupferne Exemplare verstanden werden musste. Solche Stücke werden in der Regel als Prestigeobjekte oder Statussymbole angesprochen.16 Im Falle eines Stückes aus Cham „Eslen“ ist auf Grund der Bergung unter Wasser die Schäftung erhalten. Diese ist mit mindestens 1,2m Länge bei kleinem Durchmesser für einen alltäglichen Einsatz ungeeignet. Zudem wurde der Schaft durch Birkenrinde und Pech mit einer feinen schwarzweißen Verzierung versehen, was für eine Auslegung auf Sichtbarkeit spricht. Die Bedeutung dieses Stückes scheint damit mehr im sozialen oder religiösen Bereich zu suchen zu sein.17 Darüber hinaus ist bereits im Neolithikum eine kultisch-religiöse Nutzung anzunehmen, wenn entsprechende Klingen in der Wand von Gebäudestrukturen eingebaut wurden, wie dies z. B. auf der Magura Gorgana bei Pietrele in Rumänien der Fall ist.18 Auch in miniaturisierter Form, womöglich als Anhänger getragen und gelegentlich auch aus Bernstein hergestellt, zeigt sich das Beil als Objektkategorie mit unterschiedlichen Assoziationen und Funktionen.19 Stammen Beile und Äxte aus Gräbern, wie etwa im Gräberfeld von Varna, obl. Varna, Bulgarien, so sind sie in der Regel mit männlichen Individuen zu assoziieren und werden hier als Zeichen

Produktion und Nutzung im Neolithikum Geschliffene Beile und Äxte wurden im ganzen europäischen Neolithikum in unterschiedlichen Formen und Größen aus unterschiedlichen Gesteinen hergestellt. Die Mehrheit der Stücke diente wohl als multifunktionales Werkzeug und war mit einem hölzernen Griff geschäftet. Manche Exemplare implizieren durch ihre Form, Größe und ihren archäologischen Kontext, also vor allem die Art ihrer Niederlegung, einen sozialen und/oder religiösen Zusammenhang. Zu denken ist hier etwa an die ungewöhnlich großen und flachen Steinbeile Südskandinaviens, die als Einzelstücke oder in Horten mit mehreren Exemplaren niedergelegt wurden12, oder an die aus italischem Jadeit gefertigten Beile, die sich in weiten Teilen Westeuropas vor allem in Horten finden (siehe Abbildung 1).13 Diese sind zum Teil so angeordnet, dass eine ehemalige Schäftung unwahrscheinlich

Rech 1979, 20 Siehe z. B. Lichter 2010, 369 Katnr. 298 und 299. 16 Ramminger 2010 17 Lichter 2010, 370f Katnr. 306 18 Hansen et al. 2004 19 Klimscha and Nowak 2009, 35 14 15

Sedláček 2012 11 Siehe etwa das Beispiel der englischen Webbilder bei Thompson 2003, 35-54. 12 Rech 1979, 15-16 13 Klassen, Pétrequin and Cassen 2011 10

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World In der späten Bronze- und der Eisenzeit lässt sich in einigen Gräbern die Beigabe von Steinbeilen nachweisen. In die Bronzezeit datiert etwa eine doppelkonische Urne aus Vesenbühren, Landkreis Cloppenburg in Niedersachsen, die eine Axt enthielt. An den Übergang von Bronze- und Eisenzeit (800-700 v. Chr.) gehört eine Urne mit steinerner Axt aus Aldendorp bei Alfeld (Leine), Landkreis Hildesheim, ebenfalls in Niedersachsen. Aus den hallstattzeitlichen Gräberfeldern in Maissau, Bezirk Hollabrunn und Etzmannsdorf bei Straning, Bezirk Horn in Niederösterreich stammen zwei Brandgräber mit je einem Nephritbeil und in Schabenberg bei Mainzlar an der Lumda, Landkreis Gießen in Hessen wurde auf der Deckplatte eines hallstatt-C-zeitlichen Grabes ein Flachbeil abgelegt.25 In die Latènezeit datiert ein sekundär durchlochtes Steinbeil aus Grab 51 vom Dürrnberg Bezirk Hallein in Österreich das als Amulett getragen werden konnte. Unverändert wurden Beile zudem in Grab 39 vom Dürrnberg bei Hallein, in Asperg „Grafenbühl“, Landkreis Ludwigsburg, Grab 15, Mühlacker, Enzkreis, Brandnest in Hügel 1 und Ehrstädt, Rhein-Neckar-Kreis, Hügel 2, Grab 1 niedergelegt.26 Ludwig Pauli schreibt Objekten aus älteren Perioden, darunter auch neolithischen Steinbeilen und Pfeilspitzen, in der Latènezeit vor allem einen „Stoffwert“ zu. So lassen sich in einigen Gräbern der Latènezeit auch unbearbeitete Bruchstücke von Kristall, Quarz, Jaspis oder Sapropelit nachweisen, die in den weiteren Zusammenhang der Amulette eingeordnet werden. Im Fall der Steinbeile und Silexpfeilspitzen tritt nach seiner Meinung die Form zum Material- bzw. Stoffwert „[…] wobei ihr Charakter als Waffe und Werkzeug nicht unwichtig gewesen sein dürfte.“27 Pauli geht hier also ganz selbstverständlich davon aus, dass die ehemalige Funktion der entsprechenden Objekte bekannt war. In den genannten Zusammenhängen ist kaum von einer profanen Nutzung auszugehen – vielmehr hatten die betreffenden Objekte wohl symbolischen Charakter. Dies wird auch durch einige kleinere Beispiele unterstrichen, die gefasst wurden und so als Amulett bzw. Anhänger getragen werden konnten. Ein entsprechendes Stück findet sich etwa im Hortfund von Witaskowa (ehemals Vettersfelde), voj. Lubuskie in Polen. Das kleine Beil wurde hier im Bereich des Nackens in Gold gefasst und so zum Anhänger umgearbeitet.28 Aber auch aus Siedlungszusammenhängen lassen sich Beispiele neolithischer Steingeräte nachweisen – so etwa eine Salzmünder Prunkaxt aus Sachsen-Anhalt, die in einer Grube mit spätlatènezeitlicher Keramik geborgen werden konnte, oder ein Steinbeil aus der eisenzeitlichen Siedlung Halle(Westfalen)-Amshausen, Landkreis Gütersloh, Nordrhein-Westfalen.29 Ebenfalls aus einer Siedlung, diesmal aber aus einem unter dem Fußboden eines eingetieften Hauses in situ geborgenen Hortfund stammt das neolithische Steinbeil von Libčice-Chýnoc, okres

der Männlichkeit oder als Statussymbole hochrangiger Persönlichkeiten angesprochen.20 Ab etwa 2300 v. Chr. verlieren die Steinbeile mit dem verstärkten Aufkommen von Kupfer und Bronze langsam an Bedeutung. Mit den veränderten Formen der Schäftung geriet die ursprüngliche Nutzung und Bedeutung der Steinbeile womöglich schon im Laufe der entwickelten Bronzezeit in Vergessenheit. Zwar zeigt das Zitat von Ole Worm zu Beginn dieses Beitrags, dass bereits im 17. Jh. in Erwägung gezogen wurde, dass es sich um alte Werkzeuge handelt, doch konnte erst ein Analogieschluss mit rezenten Bevölkerungsgruppen, die Steinbeile nutzen, hier Sicherheit bringen.21 Assoziationen mit Thors Hammer, dem Ceraunia des Zeus oder dem Hammer des Heiligen Martin (siehe unten), zeigen aber auch, dass die Nähe zu Formen zeitgleichen Werkzeugs bewusst oder unbewusst wahrgenommen wurde. Für das Neolithikum bleibt also festzuhalten, dass mehrere Ebenen der Nutzung und Bedeutung von Steinbeilen angenommen werden können. Zwar handelt es sich in der Regel sicherlich um multifunktionale Werkzeuge – Form, Material, Schäftung und Niederlegung legen aber für einige Exemplare eine soziale, etwa in Form von Prestigeobjekten oder Statussymbolen, bzw. eine kultischreligiöse Bedeutung nahe.

Nutzung in den europäischen Metallzeiten Mit dem Aufkommen bronzener Klingen verändert sich auch die Form der Schäftung von Beilen. Zwischenfutter und Keulenschäftung kommen nun nicht mehr zur Anwendung und die Nutzung steinerner Exemplare als Werkzeug wird aufgegeben. Ihre Bedeutung geriet damit wohl in Vergessenheit und die bronze- und eisenzeitlichen Funde belegen ebenso wie jene Exemplare der Antike und des Mittelalters wohl eine Umdeutung jener Objekte, die aus Zufall gefunden wurden.22 So findet sich im frühbronzezeitlichen Fürstengrab von Leubingen Landkreis Sömmerda in Thüringen ein deutlich älteres Beil, das in der Regel als bewusste Rückberufung auf das Neolithikum und damit als tradiertes Herrschaftssymbol gedeutet wird.23 Damit würde sich der Grabinhaber aus Leubingen in eine neolithische Tradition setzen. Tobias Kienlin macht darüber hinaus darauf aufmerksam, dass eine solche Tradierung nicht allein vom Bestatteten ausgehen muss, sondern auch von der Gruppe der Bestattenden getragen werden kann, die sich in einem ebensolchen Erbe sehen.24

Vandkilde 2006; Whittle 1995 Müller-Beck 1998, 11 22 Klimscha and Nowak 2009, 39-40 23 Kienlin 2008, 195 mit weiterer Literatur. 24 Kienlin 2008, 195

Reitinger 1976, 526 Pauli 1975, 127 27 Pauli 1975, 127 28 Nawroth 2007 29 Klimscha and Nowak 2009, 36

20

25

21

26

26

J. M. Bagley, Vergessen und neu belebt Praha-zapad in der Tschechischen Republik.30 Hier fanden sich neben dem Steinartefakt unter anderem latènezeitliche Waffen und Werkzeuge, zum Teil nur in Fragmenten. Die Interpretation dieses Befundes erweist sich als schwierig, interessant scheint aber der Zusammenhang mit Werkzeugen – möglicherweise ein Hinweis auf eine eisenzeitliche Umnutzung im handwerklichen Gebrauch, etwa als Schleifstein?

beschreibt in diesem Zusammenhang unterschiedliche Objekte, darunter eines, das einem Beil ähnlich sähe. Eine seltene Art werde darüber hinaus an Stellen gefunden, die vom Blitz getroffen wurden. Den betreffenden Objekten werden magische Fähigkeiten zugeschrieben.36 Da Plinius eine griechische Bezeichnung nutzt, deutet sich an, dass Steinbeile auch schon im antiken Griechenland eine besondere Bedeutung besessen haben.37 Darauf verweisen auch einige Funde und Befunde, so etwa ein aus Griechenland stammendes schwarzes Beil mit Abraxes-Inschrift und ein Exemplar aus der Unterstadt von Pergamon, das in drei Tafeln geschnitten und mit magischen Sprüchen versehen wurde.38 Solche Steinbeile mit Inschriften weist Dieter Quast der Gruppe der magischen Gemmen zu.39 Hier sollte womöglich die Kraft der Steinbeile, die als Exotica von sich aus schon mit einer besonderen Kraft versehen waren, durch Inschriften unterschiedlicher Art potenziert werden. Das von ihm vorgestellte Beil des 2./3. Jhs. n. Chr. aus der Sammlung des Prinzen Christian August von Waldeck, das dieser wohl in Italien erstand, weist neben mehreren Anrufungen die Bitte um Schutz und einen Liebeszauber auf.40 Plinius berichtet darüber hinaus, dass der Glaube an die magische Kraft der Donnerkeile auch bei den Etruskern weit verbreitet war.41 Den Begriff fulmen nutzen Plinius und Cicero in der De divinatione ebenfalls für einen Donnerkeil, der aber unter Einfluss der Stoiker als natürliches Produkt beschrieben wird, dass durch die Hitze aufeinandertreffender Wolken entsteht. Hier wird also eine eher naturwissenschaftliche Erklärung einer magischen Bedeutung, die in den Bereich des Aberglaubens verwiesen wird, gegenübergestellt.42 Die Begriffe ceraunia und brontea, die ebenfalls für die Steinbeile genutzt wurden, beziehen sich dabei auf ein Objekt, das Zeus bzw. Jupiter von den Zyklopen übergeben wurde und das zusammen mit Blitz und Donner die Attribute des Gottes bildete. In militärischem Zusammenhang sind neolithische Steinbeile wahrscheinlich eben durch diese Bezugnahme auf die Waffen des Zeus als Schutz und Unterstützung von Bedeutung. Darüber hinaus wurde ihnen wohl eine schützende Wirkung vor Blitzschlag und Feuer zugeschrieben.43 Diese Beziehung wird auch dann deutlich, wenn etwa der römische Feldherr und spätere Kaiser Galba einen See in Kantabrien entwässern lässt, in den der Blitz eingeschlagen hat, um das dort vermutete Steinbeil zu bergen.44 Ein so erheblicher Aufwand zur Auffindung des erhofften Objektes deutet auf den hohen Wert, der diesem zugesprochen wurde. Plinius der Ältere berichtet zudem, dass Magier gezielt nach entsprechenden Objekten suchten.45 Wie cerauniae in den Besitz

Zwar legt die Mehrheit dieser Beispiele eine religiöse oder soziale Bedeutung der neolithischen Steinbeile in den europäischen Metallzeiten nahe, doch erweist sich eine weitere Interpretation als schwierig. Dies liegt zum einen an den bislang wenigen gut beobachteten Beispielen, die kaum eine Regelhaftigkeit der Nutzung erkennen lassen, zum anderen an den fehlenden schriftlichen Quellen, die weitere Möglichkeiten der Interpretation eröffnen würden. Eine umfassende Aufarbeitung und Zusammenstellung der entsprechenden Beispiele könnte aber weitere Erkenntnisse erbringen.

Nutzung in der Antike Die Quellenlage ändert sich mit der Nutzung der Steinbeile in der Antike. Nun wird zum ersten Mal auch in schriftlichen Quellen von den entsprechenden Objekten und ihrer Bedeutung berichtet. Allerdings gilt dies nicht für alle Funde und Befunde und einige Fragen müssen auch hier offen bleiben. Beile treten nun in unterschiedlichen Zusammenhängen auf, etwa in Siedlungen, Kastellen und Tempeln.31 So sind aus mindestens 24 gallo-römischen Umgangstempeln entsprechende Objekte bekannt32, wobei die Klingen zum Teil wohl absichtlich zerbrochen wurden.33 Wahrscheinlich wurden Beile insgesamt als Schutz und glückbringende Amulette in unterschiedlichen Situationen eingesetzt. Immer wieder sind sie in Zusammenhang mit Brennöfen oder anderen Einrichtungen, die mit Feuer in Beziehung stehen, zu beobachten und könnten hier als Schutz vor Bränden gedient haben.34 Aus dem Bereich eines Töpferofens in Heddernheim, Frankfurt am Main, stammt ein Beil, das aufgrund der beobachteten Abnutzungsspuren als Glättstein gedient haben könnte.35 Ob damit aber von einer rein profanen Nutzung auszugehen ist, muss offen bleiben. Im 1. Jh. v. Chr. berichtet Plinius der Ältere in seiner Naturalis Historia von der magischen Bedeutung des Donnerkeils. Er nutzt dabei unter anderen den vom griechischen keraunos hergeleiteten Begriff ceraunia und

Helfert and Ramminger 2010, 230 Klimscha and Nowak 2009, 34 38 Klimscha and Nowak 2009, 35 39 Quast 2011 40 Quast 2011, 251 41 Helfert and Ramminger 2010, 236 42 Helfert and Ramminger 2010, 232-3 43 Helfert and Ramminger 2010, 234 44 Laut Überlieferung sollen dabei insgesamt 12 Beile geborgen worden sein: Reitinger 1976, 525. 45 Helfert and Ramminger 2010, 235 36 37

Sankot 2001 Helfert and Ramminger 2010, 229 Carelli 1997, 399; Horne and King 1980 33 Klimscha and Nowak 2009, 36 34 Helfert and Ramminger 2010, 234 35 Ramminger 2007, 43 30 31 32

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World unterschiedlicher Personengruppen kamen, ob es sich vor allem um zufällige Lesefunde handelte oder ob sie auch gekauft bzw. verkauft werden konnten und sich die hohe Wertschätzung auch in ökonomischen Zusammenhängen niederschlägt, also durch einen hohen Kaufpreis, lässt sich nicht beantworten.

beigemessen wurde, ist darüber hinaus womöglich mit dem mittelalterlichen Konzept der Singularitätsmagie in Verbindung zu bringen, die auffälligen und seltenen Objekten eine besondere Bedeutung zumisst54 und auch der Vorgang des zufälligen Findens könnte sich auf die Wertschätzung der Objekte ausgewirkt haben.55 Neben schriftlichen Quellen ist in Mittelalter und Neuzeit sicher aber auch eine mündliche Weitergabe entsprechender Überlieferungen von großer Bedeutung. Dass es sich dabei um weit verbreitete Vorstellungen handelte, zeigen Begriffe wie Donnerkeil im Deutschen, thunderstone in Englisch, pierre de tonnerre auf Französisch, donderbeitel in Niederländisch oder torestein im Norwegischen.56 In der Regel wurde die Entstehung des Donnerkeils mit einem Gewitter in Verbindung gebracht (siehe Abbildung 2).57 Besondere Bedeutung hat er dann auch im Schutz vor Blitzen, was sich bereits in der Namensgebung andeutet.

Nutzung in Mittelalter und Neuzeit In Mittelalter und Neuzeit spielt das neolithische Steinbeil, nun vor allem unter der Bezeichnung „Donnerkeil“ im Volksglauben eine wichtige Rolle. Er wird oft in das Dachgebälk gelegt oder gehängt, aber auch unter dem Boden vergraben oder in eine Mauer eingemauert.46 Im frühen Mittelalter Zentraleuropas lassen sich bereits entsprechende Befunde ausmachen. So wurden in der Siedlung Develier-Courtételle im Schweizer Kanton Jura mehrere Fragmente neolithischer Steinbeile gefunden, die Mehrheit im Bereich zweier Gebäude, die im 7. Jh. n. Chr. einem Brand zum Opfer fielen. Sie werden durch Robert Fellner im Sinne eines Blitzschutzes interpretiert.47 Eines der dort gefundenen Exemplare weist eine wahrscheinlich im Frühmittelalter eingebrachte Durchlochung auf, womöglich um es direkt am Körper zu tragen.48 Für Skandinavien sind entsprechende Befunde im 11. Jahrhundert nachgewiesen, ein Zeitraum, in dem sich der christliche Glaube wohl noch nicht vollständig durchgesetzt hatte.49 Zwar finden sich Steinbeile in weiten Teilen Europas in Mittelalter und Neuzeit zumeist in Bauernhäusern und Ställen, doch konnten auch einige Exemplare in Schlössern und Kirchen beobachtet werden.50 Selten scheinen Steinbeile darüber hinaus in scheinbar profanen Zusammenhängen aufzutreten, etwa in Grab 101 von Saffig, Landkreis Mayen-Koblenz in RheinlandPfalz oder als Einzelfund aus Jülich, Landkreis Düren in Nordrhein-Westfalen. Spuren von Gold deuten hier darauf hin, dass die beiden Stücke als Probiersteine zur Prüfung goldener Münzen zum Einsatz kamen.51

Zunächst handelt es sich bei der Entstehung der Beile nach diesen Vorstellungen vor allem um einen natürlichen Prozess, der christlichen Vorstellungen

Für die mittelalterliche und neuzeitliche Interpretation der Steinbeile ist Plinius der Ältere immer noch von großer Bedeutung, da sich Marbod, Bischof von Rennes und Isidor von Sevilla in ihren Abhandlungen zu den cerauniae auf Plinius beziehen.52 In Zusammenhang mit den Fruchtbarkeitsvorstellungen scheint zudem die nordische Überlieferung zu Thor/Donar von besonderer Bedeutung gewesen zu sein, denn neben seiner Verbindung zum Gewitter war er auch für die Vegetation und als Beschützer der Menschen tätig.53 Die große Macht, die den Steinbeilen

Abbildung 2 Donnerkeile fallen bei einem Unwetter vom Himmel. Illustration aus dem Ortus Sanitatis 1517 (nach Mennung 1925, Abb. 2).

Reitinger 1976, 511 Fellner 2012 48 Fellner 2012, 241 49 Demuth 2002, 113-14 50 So z. B. in der Dreifaltigkeitskirche in Alsfeld oder dem Dom zu Halberstädt: Klimscha and Nowak 2009, 37. 51 Mehling 1998, 94 Anm. 278 52 Helfert and Ramminger 2010, 235; Klimscha and Nowak 2009, 32 53 Reitinger 1976, 533-4 46 47

Riha 2005, 67 Mehling 1998, 112-3 Reitinger 1976, 520-1 57 Eine Zusammenstellung der unterschiedlichen Interpretationsversuche findet sich bei Reitinger 1976, 522-4. 54 55 56

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J. M. Bagley, Vergessen und neu belebt nicht widerspricht. Dass Donnerkeile im christlichen Aberglauben aber durchaus auch in direkte Verbindung mit Gott gebracht wurden, zeigt ein Zitat Martin Luthers, in dem er wünscht, dass: „[…] gott so ernstlich und mit so groszen donneräxten auf die harten Köpfe schlehet“.58 Auch der christliche Gott ist hier also in der Lage, Blitze bzw. Donnerkeile als Strafe zu schleudern. Da ein Blitz nicht zweimal an derselben Stelle einschlagen solle, ist der Donnerkeil der beste Schutz vor weiteren Treffern.59 Die mündliche Weitergabe führt darüber hinaus zu einer Dynamik60, die regional unterschiedliche Schwerpunkte der vorgestellten Wirkung ebenso wie einer Anpassung an aktuelle Probleme ermöglicht.61 So wird den Donnerkeilen auch hohe Wirksamkeit zum Schutz des Viehs, in der Unterstützung dessen Fruchtbarkeit und der Medizin beigemessen. Neben dem Bestreichen der kranken Körperteile mit dem Beil finden sich auch Rezepte, die den Abrieb von Donnerkeilen vermischt mit Wasser als Medizin für unterschiedliche Krankheiten anpreisen.62

Im 16./17. Jahrhundert werden dann deutliche Zweifel in Bezug auf die Herkunft der Donnerkeile und ihre magische Wirkung geäußert. Dabei wird auch schon früh auf die Ähnlichkeit mit Werkzeugen verwiesen und die Überlegung kommt auf, ob es sich bei den entsprechenden Stücken um Versteinerungen ehemals eiserner Exemplare aus der Vergangenheit handeln könnte.68 Trotz der immer zahlreicher werdenden Zweifel lässt sich die Nutzung von Donnerkeilen, vor allem in ländlichen Gegenden, bis in das 20. Jahrhundert hinein verfolgen. Im Zuge der Restaurierung vieler Höfe in der zweiten Hälfte des 20. Jahrhunderts konnten Donnerkeile immer wieder in ihrer „ursprünglichen“ Anbringung beobachtet werden. Leider wurde diese nur in Ausnahmefällen ausreichend dokumentiert, so dass sich in den heutigen Sammlungsbeständen zum Teil nicht mehr nachvollziehen lässt, aus welchen Zusammenhängen die entsprechenden Objekte stammen. Sie wurden in der Regel unter ihrer neolithischen, also ursprünglichen Herstellung eingeordnet, ohne den weiteren Verlauf der Objektbiographie zu berücksichtigen.

Eine Wertschätzung und weitere Nutzung der Objekte könnte grundsätzlich auch aus ästhetischen Gründen angenommen werden.63 Zumindest einige Steinbeile könnten durch ihre Farbe und die Hochglanzpolierung als besonders auffällig und schön empfunden worden sein. Dabei muss unklar bleiben, ob diese Eigenschaften für sich allein stehen konnten, oder ob sie lediglich eine Verstärkung anderer Bedeutungsaspekte bewirkten. In einigen schriftlichen Quellen deutet sich der materielle wie symbolische Wert der Beile zumindest an, etwa wenn sie in Inventarlisten aufgenommen wurden, die zur Festlegung des Verkaufspreises eines Gehöfts führten. Andererseits ist in einigen Fällen belegt, dass Bauern ihren Donnerkeil auch für immens hohe Summen, die Ihnen geboten wurden, nicht verkaufen wollten. So soll 1930 in Eberstädt, Landkreis Gotha ein Bauer sein Beil auch für hundert Mark nicht hergegeben haben.64 Ähnliches schildert auch Philipp Dieffenbach bereits 1835, wenn er davon berichtet, dass „Hirten und Landleute“ die Beile auch zu einem hohen Preis nicht abgeben wollen.65 Gelegentlich ist auch das Verleihen entsprechender Stücke gegen Geld nachgewiesen.66 Vereinzelt wird erwähnt, dass manche Krämer Donnerkeile im Angebot hatten, ohne dass hier ein Preis genannt werden würde.67 Möglicherweise schwankte dieser auch nach Form, Farbe und Größe der Beile und konnte daher kaum allgemein angegeben werden.

Auswirkungen der langen Nutzung auf das Objekt Um die Objektbiographie oder eher die Nutzungsgeschichte dieser Objektkategorie und damit die Verschiebung der Bedeutungen und Wertzuschreibungen nachvollziehen zu können, ist die Kenntnis des archäologischen Kontextes, etwa innerhalb einer neolithischen Siedlung oder eines Grabes, eines römischen Kastells oder eines neuzeitlichen Fachwerkhauses, von unmittelbarer Bedeutung. Die lange Nutzung eines Donnerkeils lässt sich in der Regel nicht am Objekt selbst ablesen oder nachweisen. Stein ist ein äußerst widerstandsfähiges Material und die Niederlegung unter dem Fußboden, in Mauern oder im Dachgebälk stellt das Objekt auf keine Proben. Allerdings existiert eine kleine Gruppe von Exemplaren, deren lange Nutzung sich unmittelbar in ihrer Erscheinungsform niederschlägt. Darunter fallen Abriebspuren, denn dem Pulver wurden, wie bereits erwähnt, Heilkräfte zugesprochen.69 Auch bei anscheinend zerbrochenen Stücken könnte es sich also um die Reste „medizinischer Donnerkeile“ handeln. Zudem ist ein womöglich beabsichtigtes Zerschlagen in provinzialrömischen Zusammenhängen angedacht worden.70 Für die Neuzeit sind Fälle auch schriftlich überliefert, in denen der Donnerkeil zur Feier einer Hochzeit oder dem Bau eines Hauses in mehrere Stücke zerteilt wurde, um seinen Schutz auf die gesamte Familie, die sich nun räumlich trennte, zu erweitern.71 Darüber hinaus wurden einige, vor allem kleinere Steinbeile gefasst und am Körper getragen.72 Schon im

Zitiert in Grimm and Grimm 1860, 1241. Demuth 2002, 112 60 Zur Dynamik mündlicher Überlieferung siehe etwa Assmann and Assmann 1983, 277. 61 Siehe dazu die Zusammenstellung der Beispiele für Donnerkeile in unterschiedlichen Regionen bei Reitinger 1976. 62 Reitinger 1976, 531-4; Klimscha and Nowak 2009, 33. Aus Hammershöj in Dänemark ist überliefert, dass die Gabe von kleinen Splittern eines Donnerkeils in Wasser die schwere und schon als hoffnungslos geltende Kolik eines Mannes heilte: Reitinger 1976, 533. 63 Mehling 1998, 101-2 64 Reitinger 1976, 535 65 Zitiert bei Ramminger 2007, 46. 66 Reitinger 1976, 535 67 Reitinger 1976, 535. Siehe dazu Ramminger 2007, 45-7. Sie geht 58 59

allerdings davon aus, dass auch die sekundär genutzten Steinbeile in der Regel aus lokalen neolithischen Zusammenhängen stammen. 68 Reitinger 1976, 522 69 Reitinger 1976, 531-4; Klimscha and Nowak 2009, 33 70 Klimscha and Nowak 2009, 36 71 Reitinger 1976, 535

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World 11. Jahrhundert soll Heinrich IV. ein in Gold gefasster Donnerkeil übergeben worden sein.73 Aus griechischen und römischen Zusammenhängen stammen Steinbeile, die als Gemmen mit magischen Inschriften versehen sind. Neben Schriftzeichen können hier in einigen Fällen auch Bilder, so etwa Darstellungen des Mithras beobachtet werden.74 Eine solche „Umarbeitung“ der Beile lässt sich bis ins Mittelalter beobachten, etwa wenn sie mit byzantinischen Kreuzen oder romanischen Ornamenten versehen sind (siehe Abbildung 3). Gelegentlich wurden sie auch zu neuen Geräten ergänzt, etwa wenn sie mit einem Stiel aus Metall versehen oder wie im Fall des Richtschwertes aus Reutlingen am Knauf befestigt wurden.75 Eine neue Schäftung legt das Erkennen des Beiles als ebensolches Werkzeug nahe – dies wird durch den sogenannten „Hammer von St. Martin“ unterstrichen, der dem Heiligen zur Zerstörung heidnischer Idole gedient haben soll.76

zu eigen machen – die Form, den Namen, die Bedeutung und Nutzung verändern. Letztendlich ist der Mensch hier aber nicht alleiniger Herr über das von ihm geschaffene Objekt, sondern wird von diesem in seinen Vorstellungen und Handlungen beeinflusst. Im hier erörterten Fall werden den Beilen im Verlauf ihres Weges nacheinander und gleichzeitig mehrere unterschiedliche Konnotationen zugewiesen. Nachdem die ursprüngliche Bedeutung als Prestigeobjekt, Statussymbol, Ritualobjekt, Werkzeug und Waffe vergessen ist, regt das Auffinden von Beilen in späteren Epochen zu Erklärungsversuchen an. Für ihre Nutzung in den vorgeschichtlichen Metallzeiten sind der Interpretation bedingt durch die archäologische Quellenlage gewisse Grenzen gesetzt. Mit dem Beginn schriftlicher Quellen zum Thema im 1. Jh. v. Chr. scheint sich dann eine gewisse Kontinuität in der Interpretation anzudeuten. Der Schutz vor Feuer und Blitz spielt dabei eine herausragende Rolle. Für die mittelalterlichen und neuzeitlichen Quellen ist das Liber lapidum seu de Gemmis des Marbod (1035-1125) von besonderer Bedeutung. Da die Naturgeschichte des Plinius als eine seiner Hauptquellen gilt, erklärt sich die Kontinuität einiger der mit dem Donnerkeil in Verbindung stehenden Vorstellungen.77 Darüber hinaus sind aber auch andere Funktionen etwa als Fruchtbarkeitsmittel oder Medizin belegt. Auf magischen Gemmen der Antike konnten unterschiedliche Wünsche und Bitten festgehalten werden, Schutz, Gesundheit und Liebe sind aber besonders häufig vertreten. Dazu treten mündliche Überlieferungen, die für die Weitergabe entsprechender Vorstellungen sicher eine bedeutende Rolle spielten. Diese erlauben gleichzeitig eine kontinuierliche Verschränkung von Vergangenheit und Gegenwart sowie eine recht spontane Anpassung an aktuelle Bedürfnisse. Eine Rückbeziehung ähnlicher Eigenschaften in die europäischen Metallzeiten sollte auf dieser Grundlage allerdings nicht geschehen. Zudem zeigen ähnliche Vorstellungen in Indonesien, die prähistorische Artefakte mit Blitz und Donner in Verbindung bringen, dass sich entsprechende Überlegungen auch unabhängig voneinander entwickeln können.78 Darüber hinaus ist in Europa auch für historische Epochen eine kontinuierliche Anpassung an die zeitgenössischen Bedürfnisse zu beobachten. So werden die Stücke zunächst mit Jupiter und Zeus, im Norden auch mit Thor in Zusammenhang gebracht, während dieser Aspekt in christlichem Zusammenhang verloren geht. Auch deutet sich in der Vorstellung einer positiven Auswirkung vor allem auf die Fruchtbarkeit des Viehs eine Anpassung an die jeweiligen Bedürfnisse der Bevölkerung an, die die Stücke ja bereits über lange Zeiträume nutzte. Eine Verbindung zwischen dem Thorshammer und der Fruchtbarkeit von Mensch und Vieh ist im Norden allerdings auch schon in vorchristlichen Zeiten belegt.79

Abbildung 3 Steinbeil mit sekundär angebrachter romanischer Verzierung (nach Montelius 1906, 68 Abb. 100).

Das neolithische Steinbeil als Träger unterschiedlicher Bedeutungen Am Beispiel des Donnerkeils mit seiner langen und wechselvollen Nutzung, die sich über mehrere Jahrtausende ziehen kann, lässt sich die Beziehung zwischen Mensch und Objekt auf ganz besondere Weise zeigen. Diese Beziehung ist geprägt durch eine wechselseitige Einflussnahme, wobei stets versucht wird, das Neue in bereits bekannte Rahmen einzuordnen. Damit prägt und verändert das Objekt die Vorstellungen und das Weltbild des Menschen, indem es ihn zwingt, eben diese durch seine Anwesenheit an die neuen materiellen Verhältnisse anzupassen. Der Mensch dagegen kann sich das Objekt Beispiele bei Quast 2011, 252 Abb.2. Eggers 1974, 25 74 Quast 2011 75 Für eine Zusammenstellung entsprechender Beispiele siehe Quast 2011. 76 Quast 2011, 257 72 73

Klimscha and Nowak 2009, 32 Carelli 1997, 401 79 Demuth 2002, 112-13 77 78

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J. M. Bagley, Vergessen und neu belebt Am Beispiel der neolithischen Steinbeile verdeutlichen sich auch die oben erwähnten Ebenen der Bedeutung von Dingen in Form ihrer Stofflichkeit einerseits und ihrer Symbolik andererseits. Besonders die Verschränkung der beiden Ebenen ist hier von Bedeutung, denn Form und Material nehmen offenbar unmittelbaren Einfluss auf die Neu- bzw. Uminterpretation der Stücke. Zum einen erinnern die Beile und Äxte an eine Waffe oder ein Werkzeug - für Südniedersachsen ist z. B. auch bis in die frühe Neuzeit hinein der Brauch belegt, als Schutz gegen Gewitterstürme eine moderne eiserne Axt zur Hand zur nehmen.80 Zum anderen wird mit Schneide und Keilform offenbar die Kraft des Blitzes assoziiert. So entsteht eine Verbindung zu Thor und Zeus, die in Mittelalter und Neuzeit immer weiter verdrängt wird. In der frühen Neuzeit sucht man dann nach einer „wissenschaftlichen“ Erklärung des Phänomens und versucht, die Form mit Vorstellungen zur Funktion der Welt in Einklang zu bringen. Mit der Kolonialzeit und der Entdeckung fremder Gesellschaften wächst der Zweifel an der magischen Bedeutung des Donnerkeils und an seiner Entstehung durch das Einschlagen des Blitzes. Trotzdem hält sich der Aberglaube an die Donnerkeile bis ins 19. Jahrhundert, in Einzelfällen sind auch Berichte aus dem frühen 20. Jahrhundert überliefert. Die kulturelle Aneignung der Objekte führt nicht nur zum Ausbau neuer Beziehungen zwischen Mensch und Objekt, sondern auch zu neuen Netzwerken zwischen Menschen, etwa wenn das Steinbeil verliehen wird, um in einem anderen Haushalt zu helfen. So entstehen komplexe Wechselspiele zwischen Menschen und Objekten, in denen die Dinge nicht auf eine rein passive Rolle beschränkt sind, sondern durch ihre Anwesenheit gepaart mit der zugeschriebenen Bedeutung durch den Menschen neue Handlungen und Verknüpfungen evozieren.

Suche nach solchen Objekten sowie das Verkaufen, Tauschen und Verleihen neolithischer Steinbeile. Alle diese Handlungen nehmen Einfluss auf menschliche Beziehungen. So kommt es durch ein Verleihen oder Schenken von (Teilen der) Beile zur Ausbildung oder Stärkung bereits vorhandener Bindungen.83 Innerhalb dieser zwischenmenschlichen Verbindungen, die sich im Objekt manifestieren, muss zusammen mit der Bedeutung auch der Wert der Beile und Äxte immer wieder neu ausgehandelt und festgelegt werden. Bedeutung und Wert stehen dabei in Relation zueinander und dies hat wiederum wohl auch Auswirkungen auf den Preis, ohne dass dieser mit dem Wert gleichzusetzen wäre. Aufgrund der weiten Verbreitung von Steinbeilen und –äxten im Neolithikum und den guten Erhaltungsbedingungen des Materials ist wohl davon auszugehen, dass zunächst die Mehrheit der Funde durch die späteren Nutzer auf dem Feld bzw. in der Natur zufällig gefunden wurden. Sie sind damit nicht an finanzielle Aufwendungen gekoppelt. Welche Gegenleistungen für das Verleihen oder Teilen eines Steinbeiles üblich waren, lässt sich den schriftlichen Quellen nicht entnehmen. Wahrscheinlich war dies auch kaum festgesetzt und vielmehr von der jeweiligen Situation abhängig. Während die Bedeutung der Beile im Volksglauben zumindest des Mittelalters und der Neuzeit also recht festgelegt erscheint, ist ihr ökonomischer Wert ständigen Aushandlungsprozessen unterworfen, der aber nur in Augenblicken der Transaktion von Bedeutung ist. Erst spät tauchen in Quellen Hinweise auf den Verkauf entsprechender Objekte auf. Sie werden damit zwar zur Ware, verlieren ihre symbolische Bedeutung aber offenbar nicht, soweit es sich nicht um das Ankaufen durch frühe Sammler handelt. Wenn ein Objekt seine Bedeutung wechselt, muss es zum Teil von seinen ursprünglichen Zusammenhängen befreit werden um dann, womöglich im Rahmen eines Rituals in einen neuen Bezug eingeordnet und so der Gesellschaft wieder zugeführt werden zu können. Dieser Vorgang erinnert in gewisser Weise an die rites de passage, also die Übergangsriten in menschlichen Gesellschaften. Arnold van Gennep beschreibt für den Übergang zwischen verschiedenen Lebensstadien, etwa an der Schwelle zum Erwachsenenleben, bei Hochzeit oder Tod solche Riten, die in drei Schritten eine Herauslösung der betreffenden Individuen aus ihren alten Zusammenhängen, eine Übergangs- oder Zwischenphase, gefolgt von der Konstituierung der neuen Stellung geprägt sind.84 Im Fall der neolithischen Steinbeile hat sich ein ähnlicher Prozess über einen sehr langen Zeitraum vollzogen. Die Herauslösung der Stücke aus ihrem ursprünglichen Zusammenhang erfolgte über das schrittweise Vergessen ihrer ursprünglichen Bedeutung als Werkzeug, Waffe aber auch rituelles Objekt. Damit starten die Beile in späteren Zeiten als eine Art “leere Hülle”, frei von Inhalten und

Deutlich wird hier also die Möglichkeit, dass Objekte zeitgleich oder nacheinander unterschiedliche Bedeutungen repräsentieren können. Diese werden darüber hinaus an regional und zeitlich bedingte Bedürfnisse der Gesellschaft angepasst.81 Es handelt sich um ein ständiges Wechselspiel zwischen Mensch und Objekt, das auf der Seite der Gesellschaft zu einer Aneignung der Dinge führt. Diese drückt sich durch gelegentliche Anpassungen am Objekt selbst, einer neuen Bezeichnung – etwa als Donnerkeil – und an der Festlegung einer „richtigen“ Nutzung aus.82 Auf der anderen Seite werden durch die Objekte aber auch Veränderungen in der Vorstellungswelt und in Verhaltensweisen der sie nutzenden Gesellschaften angestoßen. Diese umfassen religiöse Vorstellungen und Praktiken, womöglich aber auch die gezielte Barner 1957, 183 Eine solche Beobachtung konnte auch H. Belting am Beispiel des Gnadenbildes der Madonna von Guadalupe in Mexiko machen. Dieses wurde, nachdem es ein Symbol der Kolonialherrschaft gewesen war, nach der Unabhängigkeitserklärung „zum nationalen Symbol des jungen Staates umgedeutet […]. Ohne daß es sein Aussehen verändert hätte, wurde es in einer neuen Zeit mit einem anderen Traditionsverständnis identifiziert und mit neuen Augen betrachtet. Das kollektive Imaginäre hatte den Blick auf das gleiche Bild verändert“ (Belting 2001, 54). 82 Zur kulturellen Aneignung siehe Hahn 2005, 99-107. 80 81

Zur gesellschaftlichen Auswirkung der Gabe siehe grundlegend Mauss 2009 (1923/24). 84 van Gennep 2005 (1909) 83

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World Wert, die mit neuen Bedeutungen gefüllt werden konnte, gemäß menschlichen Bedürfnissen vielleicht auch gefüllt werden musste. Im Rahmen der Aneignung wurden die Stücke mit einem neuen Namen und einem „richtigen“ Umgang versehen. In seltenen Fällen wurde dabei auch die Form verändert, etwa durch eine Fassung oder eine zeitgemäße Verzierung. Zeichen eines neuen Umgangs sind auch Abriebspuren oder das Zerbrechen der Stücke, wie es oben bereits beschrieben wurde. In besonderen Fällen lässt sich sogar ein Ritual rekonstruieren, das eine solche Umnutzung ermöglichte oder erweiterte. Dies zeigt sich zum einen an den antiken Gemmen, die durch das Versehen mit magischen Formeln und Bildern in ihrer Macht potenziert wurden, zum anderen in einigen schriftlich überlieferten Segenssprüchen des 8. Jahrhunderts n. Chr., die einer christlichen Nutzung antiker Gegenstände allgemein vorausgehen konnten.85 Offenbar waren Form und Material für diesen Prozess von großer Bedeutung. Durch ihre Keilform wurden die Beile mit dem Blitz in Zusammenhang gebracht, was je nach Epoche und Region wiederum eine Assoziation mit Zeus, Jupiter oder Thor zur Folge hatte. Auch das polierte Material und die zum Teil auffälligen Farben wie tiefes Schwarz oder unterschiedliche Grüntöne werden gelegentlich erwähnt und in die Bewertung einbezogen.

bietet in seiner Materialität Möglichkeiten an und schließt andere aus. Der Mensch berücksichtigt diese Kriterien für seine Einordnung in das jeweilige Weltbild, wobei seine eigenen Bedürfnisse ebenfalls von Bedeutung sind. Andererseits wird das Weltbild durch die Erfahrung des Objektes erweitert und in manchen Details angepasst und verändert. Es kommt zu einer Wechselwirkung, in der das Objekt in seiner Materialität eine aktive Rolle einnimmt. Insgesamt geht es hier um einen gesellschaftlichen Aushandlungsprozess, der im Einzelfall durchaus, wie beim Berliner Schlüssel, wieder zu weiteren Abhängigkeiten und Zwängen führen kann – das Objekt muss aufgrund gesellschaftlicher Konventionen auf eine bestimmte Art und Weise genutzt werden oder bestimmte Situationen erfordern den Einsatz eines bestimmten Objektes. In diesem Zusammenhang steht auch der ökonomische Wert der Objekte – er ist abhängig von ihrer kulturellen Bedeutung. Die Vorstellung, dass es sich um magische, schützende Artefakte handelt, weckt die Nachfrage auf dem Markt, das eingeschränkte Angebot, da es sich um Zufallsfunde handelt, regelt den Preis. Darüber hinaus haben einzelne Objekte für die Besitzer mit großer Wahrscheinlichkeit einen hohen persönlichen Wert, etwa wenn es sich um Familienerbstücke handelt, oder wenn die „Wirksamkeit“ durch einen Vorfall „bestätigt wurde“. Die Frage, was neolithische Steinbeile wollen, scheint damit falsch formuliert zu sein. Sie wollen nichts aus sich selbst heraus sondern aus der Zuschreibung, die sie durch den Menschen erfahren haben. Allerdings sind sie in ihrer Beziehung zum Menschen nicht passiv. Sie strukturieren unser Leben – aber nicht aus sich selbst heraus. Sie tun es mit der Bedeutung, mit der sie durch die Gesellschaft und deren Geschichte aufgeladen wurden und werden. Es handelt sich um ein Wechselspiel zwischen Mensch und Objekt, wobei das Beil oder jedes andere Objekt bestimmte Konnotationen durch seine Materialität anbietet und andere ausschließt. Durch die mit dem Objekt verbundenen Vorstellungen und Handlungen werden bestehende Netzwerke erweitert bzw. bilden sich neue Netzwerke aus – auch durch das Kaufen/Verkaufen oder Verleihen. Damit nehmen Objekte unmittelbaren Einfluss auf unser Leben und die Art und Weise, wie sich Individuen und Gesellschaften definieren. Erst in den letzten Jahrzehnten wird diese Bedeutung der Dinge in den Kulturwissenschaften wieder voll wahrgenommen und entsprechend untersucht.

Fazit Die ursprüngliche Funktion und Bedeutung des neolithischen Steinbeils ist beginnend mit den europäischen Metallzeiten wohl vergessen worden. Es befand sich ähnlich wie die englischen Webbilder bei Michael Thompson auf dem Weg zum Müll, wurde aber wieder entdeckt und bildete nun eine Art Container, der mit neuem Sinn und einem neuen ökonomischen sowie inhaltlichen Wert gefüllt werden konnte und vielleicht musste – es gehört wohl zu den Grundbedürfnissen des Menschen, sich seine Umwelt zu erklären. Um eine solche Neuzuweisung zu erbringen, mussten aber einige Punkte beachtet werden, um ein in der jeweiligen Gesellschaft schlüssiges Bild zu ergeben. Das Steinbeil musste also einerseits in seiner Bedeutung dem Weltbild der nutzenden Gemeinschaft angepasst werden, andererseits musste das Weltbild einer Gesellschaft gegebenenfalls so verändert werden, dass es das Vorhandensein bestimmter Objekte erklären konnte. Daher wird das Beil mit Jupiter, Zeus, Thor oder bestimmten „natürlichen“ Vorgängen in Zusammenhang gebracht. Dabei ist eine Neuinterpretation nie ganz frei. Durch seine Materialität nimmt das Objekt Einfluss auf die Zuschreibung von Wert und Bedeutung. So werden Material, Farbe und Form berücksichtigt, um ein schlüssiges Bild der Erklärung zu schaffen. Die Zuschreibung von Wert und Bedeutung geschieht hier also in einem Wechselspiel von Mensch und Objekt. Letzteres

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Transformers Energize! Aegean Bronze Age rhyta in moments of transformation Laerke Recht

This paper examines the well-known Bronze Age Aegean vessel type of rhyta as agents of transfer and transformation. A series of ‘moments’ presents the variety of contexts in which rhyta occur, including as transformers of content, as part of ritual processes and geographical movements. I explore how rhyta were important players not only in religious acts, but also in acts of display and secrecy, whether in processions in the Aegean or abroad, in magic tricks, or as hidden from human view in building deposits. It is argued that their transformative potential makes rhyta multifaceted vessels suitable for a variety of contexts which range from practical to symbolic, but they are often not reducible to simply one or the other. rhyta, Bronze Age, Aegean, transformation, transfer, agency

Im Zentrum des Artikels steht die Untersuchung der Funktionen, die der Gefäßtypus des Rhyton als Vermittler für Transfer und Transformation in der bronzezeitlichen Ägäis einnehmen konnte. Eine Anreihung einzelner ‚Momente‘ soll die kontextuelle Spannbreite, innerhalb derer Rhyta vorkommen, verdeutlichen; als Instrument zur Transformation des Inhalts, als Bestandteil eines rituellen Vorgangs sowie räumlicher Veränderungen. Es wird untersucht, inwiefern Rhyta eine wichtige Rolle bei religiösen Anlässen, bei öffentlichen oder aber auch geheimen Handlungen spielten; im Verlauf von Prozessionen, bei Zaubertricks oder in der Abgeschiedenheit von Depots. Aufgrund ihres transformativen Potentials ist der Gefäßtypus des Rhyton äußerst facettenreich. Er konnte in vielerlei Kontexten, praktischer oder symbolischer Natur, zum Einsatz kommen. Rhyta, Bronzezeit, Ägäis, Transformation, Transfer, Agency

Since materiality is not reducible to a set of given conditions or practices common to all cultures and all times, it is surely necessary to undertake study of specific cultural moments to understand particular contextual notions of the material world and its propensity to forge, shape, interpolate, and possibly even challenge and undermine social relations and experiences. … It is crucial for archaeologists to interrogate the specific moments of crafting, forging, exchanging, installing, using, and discarding objects… (Meskell 2005, 6-7).

the two ‘moments’ that Meskell calls ‘exchanging’ and ‘discarding’. Aegean Bronze Age rhyta The word rhyton (plural rhyta or rhytons) comes from the Greek ῥεȋν, ‘to flow’. Here it is used to refer to a specific type of vessel which has two openings, one called the ‘primary’ opening and the other the ‘secondary’ opening (I follow Robert Koehl in this definition).2 The primary opening is at the top of the example shown on Figure 1. It is larger than the secondary one, but can be either narrow

With these engaging words, I hope to introduce the world of Aegean rhyta and their role in moments of transfer and transformation.1 After a short review of the occurrence of rhyta in the Bronze Age Aegean, I will move on to a discussion of their transformative character using specific moments as case studies. Focus will be on

Koehl 2006, 5-7. Compare the more popular and well-known definition of ‘rhyton’ as a drinking vessel, usually in the shape of a horn and/ or animal head. Petit uses a definition similar to Koehl’s, although he understands the primary, larger opening as used for filling, the secondary one for emptying (Petit 1989, 15). As discussed below, the secondary opening may in some types have been used for both filling and emptying the vessel. See also a short discussion of various definitions and further references in Specht 1981, 15. There are exceptions to this rule; a few vessels have more than one ‘secondary’ opening, for example a selection of female anthropomorphic vessels from EM II – MM IA Crete (Branigan 1969, 34-5). 2

I am grateful to Robert Koehl, Joanna Day and Tibor-Tamás Daróczi for reading and commenting on earlier drafts of this paper. Any errors remain my own. 1

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Figure 2 Chart showing number of rhyta from the Aegean and the site with the most examples from each area.

partly due to Crete being more extensively researched, but the variation is too large to be insignificant, and clearly rhyta were of greater value to the inhabitants of Crete than elsewhere, whatever their exact function. Imports and local imitations are also found elsewhere in the Mediterranean and further afield; I will come back to these below. Rhyta have been found in many different archaeological contexts, including temples and sanctuaries, storage facilities, settlements and graves, and not uncommonly they are found with other vessels related to liquids, such as drinking and pouring vessels.4 The vast majority of rhyta are not found in contexts directly associated with cult: they are found in palaces, houses, storerooms and other structures whose precise function has not been identified.5 The comparatively small number of rhyta securely associated with cult supports the idea that their use varied greatly and included activities related to industry and craft. The rhyta occur in a huge variety of shapes, material and decoration. The shapes can be roughly divided into two main types: figural and geometric. The figural vessels were subdivided by both Karo and Koehl into those that depict a complete object or human/animal, and those that only include the head.6 The figural examples include shapes of cattle, birds, bird hybrids, felines, fish, humans, tortoises, ovids, equids, beetles, hedgehogs, triton shells, pithoi, flowerpots, baskets, buckets, poppy capsules, boots, a

Figure 1 Conical rhyton with indication of primary and secondary openings. From Pylos, Tomb E8. LH IIA. Clay. H. 24.4cm, D. 104.cm. Drawing by the author, after Mountjoy 1993, 56, fig. 89.

or wide, with the smallest examples being around 1cm in diameter. The secondary opening, at the bottom of the vessel shown, is almost always around 0.5cm in diameter. The terminology of ‘primary’ and ‘secondary’ should not be taken to imply that contents always entered through the primary opening and exited through the secondary one, as the secondary opening in some cases seems likely to have been used for both input and output (see below). In the Aegean, rhyta are found mostly on Mainland Greece and on Crete (Figures 2-5). Chronologically, rhyta first occur on Crete in the Early Minoan II period (c. 2500 BC), but they do not occur elsewhere and on the Mainland until the beginning of the Late Bronze Age, (Late Helladic I, around 1600 BC). In all areas, they continue to be manufactured until the end of the Bronze Age.3 The finds of rhyta on Crete far outnumber those of other areas, even in the Late Bronze Age (Figures 2-5). It is possible that this discrepancy is

Koehl 2006, tables 5-13 A good example of the ‘mixing’ of objects related to cult and industry/ craft is presented below, from a possible building deposit at Knossos. Another good example comes from Palaikastro Building 7, especially Room 12, where the assemblage has a similar composition of objects associated with both areas: ox head rhyton, octopus style piriform jar, rounded bowls, kalathos, blot and trickle jug, askos, pyxis, miniature bottle, tripod vase, bone spoon and other bone fragments, three conical cups, three loom weights, quernstone, five stone tools, triton shell, stalactite fragment, pumice, and larnax fragments (Sackett 1996, 51-4). 6 Karo 1911, Koehl 2006 4 5

Rhyta, especially in the shape of animals or animal heads and as the better known drinking horns, continue to be made after the Bronze Age – see examples in Tuchelt 1962. 3

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Figure 3 Greece. Map generated by Tibor-Tamás Daróczi.

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World

Figure 4 Mainland Greece. Map generated by Tibor-Tamás Daróczi.

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L. Recht, Transformers Energize!

Figure 5 Crete. Map generated by Tibor-Tamás Daróczi.

granary/beehive, shields, pomegranates and a driver and chariot. The geometric shapes occur as alabastron-shaped, conical, globular, piriform and ovoid, and as bowls, cups, jars and hydria. In the beginning (i.e. from EM II), only full animal shapes occur, and these continue until the end of the period, which is completely in line with other media, where all kinds of animals abound.7 However, from the Middle Minoan period onwards the geometrical shapes appear and become increasingly popular, especially the conical version.

significance, since the Minoan examples cluster around MM III – LM I,8 although there are examples dated later;9 rhyta of other materials are too rare for the material itself to be a strict chronological marker. Some vessels have inlays, foil and other decorative elements made of clay, shell, faience, gold, silver, bronze, copper, schist, rock crystal and jasper – the most exquisite example is perhaps the famous ox head rhyton from the Little Palace of Knossos made of serpentinite with shell, crystal and jasper inlays in the muzzle and eyes, and horns of a different material, perhaps gold (Figure 7).10 The decoration on rhyta (painted or engraved) is also very varied – rhyta can be plain or decorated with abstract or geometric patterns, but frequently figural elements occur, including humans, plants, animals, buildings, natural landscapes and ‘symbols’ often associated with cult. We even find elaborate scenes involving human characters, for example on the so-called ‘Harvester Vase’, with a procession of men involved in a celebration and carrying long poles,11 the ‘Boxer Rhyton’ with registers of men apparently boxing and fighting bulls,12 and the ‘Sanctuary Rhyton’, depicting a building in a rocky landscape with goats, birds, so-called ‘horns of consecration’ and an ‘incurved’ altar.13

Rhyta were made in many different materials, although clay is by far the most common – see Figure 6. A few examples occur in gold, silver, faience and ostrich eggshell, but otherwise the remaining vessels are made of various types of stone (antico rosso, basalt porphyry, breccia, calcium carbonate, chlorite, gabbro, gypsum, lapis lacedaemonius, limestone, marble, obsidian, rock crystal, serpentinite and tufa). Vessels made of materials other than clay may have carried higher value, although one should be careful not to simply assume this as a given fact. The stone rhyta may have chronological

The first study dedicated specifically to Aegean rhyta was carried out in 1911 by Georg Karo,14 prompted by the magnificence of the silver ox-head rhyton found in Shaft Grave IV at Mycenae.15 He divided the rhyta into three basic forms: animal heads, complete animal bodies and ‘trichterförmige’ (i.e. funnel-shaped) rhyta. The latter he only grudgingly admits into the category.16 The zoomorphic vessels were believed to be ‘Trinkgefäße’ (drinking vessels), and the geometric shapes to be wine Warren 1969, 84 e.g. Koehl 2006, nos. 318-21, dated LM II – LM IIIA 10 Evans 1928, 527-30, figs. 330-2; Koehl 2006, no. 307 11 Forsdyke 1954; Koehl 2006, no. 110 12 Evans 1921, 688, fig. 508, 690, fig. 511; Koehl 2006, no. 651 13 Shaw 1978; Platon 1985, 164-9; Koehl 2006, no. 204 14 Karo 1911 15 Schliemann 1878, 250-1 16 Karo 1911, 265 8

Figure 6 Chart showing the materials of rhyta in the Aegean, using data from Koehl 2006.

7

9

e.g. Morris 2007, 183-9

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World properly includes the animal shapes).20 Specht believes that the conical rhyta were not primarily for liquids, but rather used in connection with ploughing and sowing, with the vessel containing the seeds and dispensing them into the ground. The association with agriculture would then explain the further use of this type of rhyta in cult – the vessels containing grain could be used as offerings in a fertility cult. She admits that the rhyta may also have held liquids (the rhyta in this case serving as dispensers), but assigns this to a later development, and argues that the unglazed nature of the vessels makes them unsuitable for fluids.21 Frédérique Petit writes that all rhyta were surely used for libations,22 but echoes the notion that the great difference in shape between zoomorphic and geometric types must represent a difference in how there were used. The geometric shapes may thus have been used for filtering wine or transferring liquids from one vessel to another – they are in any case assigned to ‘domestic’ usage.23 The zoomorphic shapes he prefers to see as vessels involved in elite activities, especially those of stone and metal, but emphasises that these activities need not be cultic, and that many of the vessels were found in palatial contexts.24 The same sentiment is shared by Wolfgang Schiering, who refers to their religious usage, but mentions that conical rhyta were possibly used for ‘profane’ purposes as well.25 Most recently, Aegean rhyta have been the topic of a meticulous study by Robert Koehl.26 Koehl provides a comprehensive catalogue and analysis of all the known Bronze Age Aegean rhyta to date, with a new typology based on the size of the primary opening (wide/narrow) and the presence or absence of feet. Like others before him, Koehl sees a variety of functions depending on the type of rhyton. His Type I and II (footed and footless rhyta with a narrow primary opening) were most likely filled by immersing them in the liquid, letting them fill through the secondary opening to the desired level, then placing a finger over the primary opening to contain the liquid and removing it again for the liquid to pour out.27 In order to empty the Type I rhyta entirely (the majority of which are zoomorphic), the vessel would need to be tipped, implying a pouring action which Koehl interprets as suitable for use in libation.28 The Type II vessels do not need this and would also be suitable for straining or filtering, and may have been used in non-religious contexts.29 Type III rhyta (footless with a wide primary opening) are interpreted as

Figure 7 Ox head rhyton. From the Little Palace of Knossos (Crete). LM IB? Serpentinite with inlays of shell, crystal and jasper. Restored. H. 20cm. Drawing by the author, after Higgins 1981, fig. 202.

dispensers, although he does allow that, for example, the ox head rhyta would be impractical for such purposes, and that especially here, we may speak of cultic uses.17 In a study of Minoan stone vases, the stone rhyta were assigned a purely ritual function, used only for libations,18 and the same conclusion has been reached concerning Aegean rhyta in the Levant.19

Specht 1981, 15 Specht 1981, 16 and 18 22 He uses the word ‘libation’ (Petit 1989, 16), which strictly speaking is defined as the pouring of a liquid as an offering – i.e. it is inherently a religious action, but judging from the comments following, the reference is more broadly to the use of liquids, without any specific religious or cultic content. 23 Petit 1989, 16 24 Petit 1989, 17-18 25 Schiering 1998, 57-64 26 Koehl 2006. See also earlier, preliminary studies: Koehl 1981; Koehl 1990. 27 Koehl 2006, 260-5 28 Koehl 2006, 262-3 29 Koehl 2006, 264-5 20 21

It has also been questioned whether the ‘trichterförmige’ vessels really belong in the category of rhyta (which Karo 1911, 270 Warren 1969, 84, 166-7 19 Yon 1986, 268-78; Yon et al. 2000, 15; Yon 2006, 151 17 18

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L. Recht, Transformers Energize! strainers or filters,30 with liquids being poured through the primary opening, filtered either through an attachment near the rim or a filter placed inside the vessel, and exiting through the secondary opening. Lastly, he suggests that Type IV rhyta (footed with a wide primary opening) were also filled through the secondary opening by submersion in liquid: the vessel would be tilted to keep the liquid in, and the same for pouring it out; an action perhaps also associated with libation. The secondary opening on these vessels is usually off-centre, meaning that through this method about a third of the vessel could contain liquid. What is more, this method would filter the liquid to some degree.31

are published singularly.32 It is predominantly agreed that rhyta more often than not have ritual functions and associations, but that certain types – especially geometricshaped ones, and Koehl’s Types II and III – may also have been used in less obviously cultic events like the production of beer, wine, textiles, and other activities that needed funnelling, filtering or straining devices. Chemical analysis of different types of rhyta to reveal contents shows the greatest potential to help understand the different uses. The data collected by Koehl provides the basis for tables and statistics presented at the end of his work,33 and is the data used in the current study for general observations concerning the distribution of rhyta (Figures 2-6; 8-9).

Apart from these works, rhyta more commonly occur in specific site reports, as part of specialist studies, or

Figure 8 Distribution map and chart of rhyta in the Bronze Age Near East. Map generated by Tibor-Tamás Daróczi (* not shown on map).

e.g. Benson 1966; Laffineur 1973; Sakellarakis 1990. See the bibliography of Koehl 2006 for a comprehensive list. 33 Koehl 2006, Tables 1-26 32

Koehl 1990, 354; Koehl 2006, 269-74 31 Koehl 2006, 274-6 30

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Figure 9 Distribution map and chart of Bronze Age hedgehog rhyta. Map generated by Tibor-Tamás Daróczi.

Moments

in initiation rituals between childhood and adult life), and such rituals usually involve a transformation of the subject of the ritual. The use of rhyta is one way of facilitating transformation in such rituals. Their cultic associations have already been hinted at above, with their discovery in tombs, sanctuaries and shrines, their decoration with motifs linked to cult, and the zoomorphic shapes of animals, which are also often linked with cult.36 In the Bronze Age Aegean, some rhyta may have formed part of a ritual ‘assemblage’. This is suggested by a seal from Naxos and a seal impression from Ayia Triada (Figures 10 and 11). The seal from Naxos depicts a male figure with one arm outstretched, holding onto an upright spear, the other held straight down by his side. On the left is a palm tree, thought to be associated with cult.37 In front of the male figure is a collection of objects: an ‘offering’ table, a sword, a jar (or perhaps a frontal animal head or even animal-headed rhyton?), a spouted jug and a conical rhyton. The seal impression from Ayia Triada shows an ox on an offering table, with its legs crossed below – on the left a human figure holds its arms out over the animal. Above is a collection of objects similar to those on the Naxos seal, although the preservation of the impression makes them less clear: a sword, a jar (?), ‘horns of consecration’ and what is most likely a conical rhyton. The use of rhyta in rites of passage is also suggested by a scene on an MC bridge-spouted jar from Akrotiri – on one of side of the

How, then, are rhyta part of transfers or transformations – or, as they are labelled here, ‘transformers’? What follows is an exploration of moments where rhyta might be understood in this manner.34 Being vessels, inherently created to contain, they have the ability to transfer their contents from one place to another. Given their small secondary opening, rhyta were used mainly, if not only, for liquids. Regardless of the manner of filling (through primary or secondary opening), this liquid must literally pass through the vessel. In this process, the liquid may be metaphorically or physically transformed: metaphorically, the liquid may be perceived as moving from human to divine possession, or from being a man-made substance to one suitable for supernatural beings, for example in rituals of libation. The rhyton is here the instrument that allows the transformation, standing as an intermediary or in between spheres.35 Religious rituals often involve transfer between spheres (for example in funerary rituals between life and death,

The transformative potential of Late Mycenaean rhyta has also been recognised recently in an engaging article by Emily S. Anderson, who focuses on their materiality and the embodied, rich sensory experience involved in handling and using this type of vessel (Anderson 2011). 35 This need not mean that such ‘spheres’ should be interpreted as opposing concepts along the lines of sacred- profane, but that a difference was indeed in some instances perceived and that an agent was necessary to move from one to another. 34

It should be reiterated that this does not mean that they are always linked to cult. 37 Marinatos 1984 36

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L. Recht, Transformers Energize! jug two men are depicted engaged in a libation ritual: one pours from a large jug into a cup-rhyta held by the other male, with liquid pouring out the bottom onto a plant.38 The cultic setting of these images is unmistakable, and the rhyta are clearly placed as part of an assemblage. A link to animal sacrifice is obvious in the impression, and suggested by the table and sword on the Naxos seal. Koehl believes that rhyta were a core component of a ‘libation set’ used exclusively by priests.39 I will not delve into the issue of exactly who performed and partook in the rituals here - the topic of gender and status in the Bronze Age Aegean, and in particular of the rituals performed only by men or women, deserves more attention than can be given in this short paper. Suffice it to say that the identification of anthropomorphic figures in the iconography as priests/ priestesses or deities is fraught with difficulties, and without written evidence, extremely difficult to verify. It can be said with certainty, however, that images depicting ritual do show the participation of both male and female figures, and both genders are associated with sacrifice and libation (for females performing sacrifice see the Ayia Triada sarcophagus,40 for a male performing sacrifice, Figure 11).41 Another case of rhyta working as agents of transformation may properly be described as lying between the physical and metaphorical.42 I here refer to very rare vessels which have been called ‘trick vases’.43 Trick vases are better known from Archaic and Classical Greece, and Noble divided them into three categories: 1) those meant for practical jokes, 2) those designed to mystify, and 3) those meant to deceive. Amongst the Bronze Age rhyta, Koehl has identified five rhyta with a hollow internal cone attached to the rim and an ‘airhole’ on the rim near the handle: these would fit into Noble’s ‘to mystify’ category (Figure 12).44 Noble believed that this type of vessel was filled out of view by immersion in liquid, then a finger was placed over the secondary opening and over the airhole. The liquid could then be poured from the internal compartment, and demonstrated to be empty. But by removing the finger from the airhole, the cone would fill again, as if by magic (the amphora described by Noble could be refilled up to ten times).45 This process could then be repeated, and it would seem that the vessel was refilling itself. Apart from giving the vessel a life of its own, this function also implies that they were used for pouring liquids in a public arena.

Figure 10 Seal CMS V no. 608. From Naxos, Chamber Tomb 2 (LH IIIC context). LH IIIA1-2. Agate. Drawing courtesy of CMS.

Nikolakopoulou 2010, fig. 21.3a-b Koehl 2006, 337 40 Paribeni 1908 41 Another appealing suggestion for the use of rhyta in ritual is that they contained perfume for ritual hand- washing (Koehl 1990, 358). A similar usage has been proposed for a type of vessel (‘libation jug’) thought to be used for ritual pouring in the Near East (Winter 2010, 247-50). 42 The concept of object agency has only recently come to the fore in archaeology, but has great potential for a deeper and more complex understanding of how humans relate to their surroundings, including ‘objects’. A recent excellent example of such a study can be found in Winter 2010, 307-31. 43 Noble 1968 44 Koehl 2006, nos. 380-1, 387, 390 and C3 38 39

Figure 11 Seal impression CMS II.6 no. 173. From Ayia Triada. LM II – IIIA1? Drawing courtesy of CMS.

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World for rhyta have been found in the Bronze Age Aegean. This may mean that they were made of perishable material not discoverable in the archaeological record, or that the ‘stopper’ function was performed temporarily by a human finger. However, for at least some types of rhyta, it is likely that stoppers were not necessary for the vessel to perform its intended function. This would, for example, apply if the vessel was used for filtering or straining. A LH IIIA2 – LH IIIB rhyton from Midea subjected to chemical analysis was a conical rhyton, very suitable for straining. The results showed that it had contained wine and barley beer,48 consistent with the usage suggested (although it should be noted that it need not have contained the two substances at the same time). Further, as will be seen below, it appears that the ‘filter’ function for conical rhyta was used in Egypt and the Levant. In these instances, rhyta again function as agents of transformation, in a moment transforming their contents from one substance to another, whether it be from a smaller to a larger amount, physical or symbolic, real or imagined. This applies whether used in ritual, in industry, or as funnels, sprinklers, strainers, filters, pouring vessels, or libations. The iconography suggests another type of transfer associated with rhyta that is more geographical in nature: in the few images we have of rhyta, they often occur as part of what are interpreted as processions, moving from one location to another.49 The most famous example is perhaps the so-called ‘Cup Bearer’, part of the ‘Procession Fresco’ from the South Propylaeum at Knossos.50 The wall-painting shows a male figure carrying a blue conical rhyton.51 He holds onto the handle with one hand, and the second hand is placed towards the tip of the rhyton, but note that it is not on the tip itself, nor is he using a finger to keep the secondary opening closed. There is no external sign of a stopper, so either the stopper is placed, hidden, on the inside or, perhaps more likely, the vessel is actually empty. No exact parallels for the rhyton depicted have been discovered, but it has repeatedly been suggested that the blue colour and vertical lines indicate silver.52 This, along with the large size of the vessel53 and its high-held

Figure 12 ‘Trick vase’ rhyton with internal cone. From Phaistos (Crete), Room 63d. LM IB. Clay. H. 20.0cm, D. 13.6cm. Drawing by the author, after Pernier and Banti 1951, 175, fig. 104.

In other words, to be effective, they had to be seen, and the liquid had to repeatedly be poured out – perhaps as in later times, during the serving of alcoholic beverages or as part of ritual actions. In physical terms, rhyta may also have functioned as ‘transformers’. Koehl suggests that his Type III rhyta may have been used as filters, for example for alcoholic beverages.46 The idea is that a small tuft of wool with spices and herbs would be placed in the secondary opening, wine would be poured through the vessel, and the liquid coming out would not only be unclotted, but also flavoured.47 The substance would thus, through the agency of the rhyton, be transformed from inconsumable to consumable and flavourful. Although this idea has not been conclusively proven, support can be found in the fact that no stoppers

Tzedakis and Martlew 1999, 171, no. 164 In turn, the so-called ‘Harvester Vase’, an LM I piriform chlorite or serpentinite rhyton from Ayia Triada, is thought to depict a procession (Forsdyke 1954; Koehl 2006, no. 110 for further references). Depictions of processions on rhyta (but never with rhyta) may also be seen on a LM I rhyton fragment from Knossos (Evans 1902-1903, 130, fig. 85; Koehl 2006, no. 763, for further references) and a LH IIIB1 fragment from Ayia Irini (Caskey 1964, 332, pl. 62a K2071; Koehl 2006, no. 1148 for further references). 50 Evans 1928, 704-12, pl. XII and fig. 443. The date is controversial (LM IA-B/LM II/LM III). 51 Although only one other human is connected with the Cup Bearer with certainty (the back of an arm with an arm-ring surviving just in front of the rhyton), other fresco fragments were found nearby, and Evans imagines the Cup bearer as part of a 48-person procession (Evans 1928, 709-10). A reconstruction of the beginning of the Procession Fresco can be seen in Immerwahr 1990, pl. 40. 52 e.g. Evans 1928, 705; Immerwahr 1990, 88 53 Koehl estimates it to be about 75cm from rim to tip – the largest conical 48 49

Noble 1968, 374 Koehl 1990, 356-7; Koehl 2006, 269 It is also possible that spices or psychoactive ingredients were soaked in the wine for a time before being filtered (as suggested by Joanna Day, personal communication). 45 46 47

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Figure 13 Section of wall-painting from the Tomb of Menkheperrasonb. From Thebes, the north side of the West Wall. 18th Dynasty. Drawing by the author, after Davies and Davies 1933, pls. IV-V.

position at eye level emphasise the visual value of the vessel. Two other depictions of conical rhyta on Aegean frescoes (from Tiryns and Ayia Irini) are too fragmentary to add significantly to this impression.54

the south half of the ‘West Wall’ of the Hall of the Tomb of Rekhmire are conical rhyta, as well as head-shaped rhyta of an ox, a canine, felines, and a griffin (18th Dynasty, reign of Thutmosis III).59

Images of procession lead to the next topic, because paintings from Egyptian tombs show Aegean-looking men bringing merchandise to Egypt (Figure 13). These ‘Keftiu’ have long wavy hair and wear knee-length kilts, and are usually identified as Minoans or Aegeans, but the issue remains controversial.55 In any case, the men bring objects of distinctly Aegean character, including a much broader array of rhyta than can be found in Aegean imagery: there are head-shaped rhyta of cattle, felines, canines and perhaps griffins, as well as conical and piriform shapes.56 For example, ox head, jackal head, feline head, conical and ovoid rhyta appear on the ‘West Wall North’ of the Tomb of Menkheperrasonb (18th Dynasty, reign of Thutmosis III);57 ox head, canine head, lion/lioness head and griffin head rhyta appear on the ‘West Wall North’ of the Tomb of Useramun (18th Dynasty, reign of Thutmosis III);58 and on

The head-shaped rhyta are often held with the neck downwards, sometimes on a plate or in a shallow bowl,60 and when carried, they are always held high: all features which focus on the presentation of the objects. The conical rhyta are usually carried low, at an angle, although one is held high and upside down61 and another held high as if serving guests (from the Tomb of Haremheb, Saqqara).62 The content and function of the vessels remain elusive: in most cases, there are no indications of what, if anything, they contained, or how they were used. The only hints we have are the upside down rhyton (could this position mean that there was liquid in the vessel but that the secondary opening was not closed?) and a few instances of small extensions near the tip of conical rhyta.63 These extensions could be interpreted as plugs, or perhaps as an attached vessel stand64 – both of which would appear to be adaptation or deliberate transformation of Aegean usage.

rhyton found so far measures only 43.7cm (Koehl 2006, 252). 54 Although it could be of some interest that they both appear to be in a tilted position, which may be how the vessel was held when in use. See Rodenwaldt 1912, 157, no. 226, pl. XVI.4; and Abramowitz 1980: 67, no. 129, pl. 7. 55 See, for example, Vercoutter 1956; Wachsmann 1987; Rehak 1998; Panagiotopoulos 2001; MacGillivray 2009; contra Vandersleyen 2003. 56 Although the objects are recognisably Aegean (in particular, Minoan), certain anomalies associated with the ‘Keftiu’ and the objects they carry can be detected. For instance, the ‘Chief of the Keftiu’ from the tomb of Menkheperrasonb – on the first register, to the left – is depicted as a Syrian in both dress and hairstyle, and the same goes for the next two leaders, labelled as ‘Chief of Kheta’ and ‘Chief of Tunep’ (Davies and Davies 1933, 4, pl. IV). The second register of foreigners on this painting exclusively depicts Syrians, yet one of the men carries a clearly Aegeantype conical rhyton (Davies and Davies 1933, pl. V, second person from the left). Some objects appear Aegean in style, but exact parallels are not actually found in the material record – griffin-head shaped rhyta would fit perfectly in the Minoan iconographic repertoire, yet no examples of this shape have been found (Koehl 2006, 247-8). Wachsmann notes further such anomalies, and generally attributes them to the artist’s transference of motifs (Wachsmann 1987, 49-77); see also comments by Rehak 1998, esp. p. 47. 57 Davies and Davies 1933, 2-9, pls. IV, V and XX 58 Dziobek 1994, 91-2, pls. 20, 22a, 23b, 74 and 92

Processions involve movement from one place to another, and hence the transfer of the rhyton between locations, along with a broader assemblage of people and objects, as part of complex rituals or proceedings. The iconography indicates that when it comes to rhyta, the visual aspect was of the upmost importance: in these images, rhyta are always displayed, not used. Indeed, they may even have been empty – the ‘Cup Bearer’ fresco shows no sign of a stopper and on none of the rhyta in Egyptian wall paintings is the Davies 1943, 17-25, pls. XVIII-XX. For more examples and references, see Vercoutter 1956, pls. XXXVII- XLIII; and Koehl 2006, nos. F1-F28 and F32-F36. 60 Davies and Davies 1933, pl. XX; Vercoutter 1956, pls. XXXVII-XLI, nos. 244, 247-8, 250-3, 257-8, 261, 265, 272, 276, 277-80; Dziobek 1994, pl. 74 61 Davies and Davies 1933, pl. V 62 Brack and Brack 1980, pl. 37b 63 Davies and Davies 1933, pl. V and XX; Brack and Brack 1980, pl. 37a 64 Koehl 2006, 252 59

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World content indicated, although this is done for other vessels. When studying ancient pottery, we often have to remind ourselves that although what we find in the archaeological record is largely only the vessels themselves, it was the content and usage that mattered.65 But this need not always have been the case – we seem here to have an instance where the vessel itself is what was valued. Properties such as shape, colour, brilliance, material and decoration may in these cases have been of particularly high value.

Moments of exchange and appropriation Building on the idea of geographical transfer and the Egyptian wall-paintings, we may note that Aegean rhyta and local imitations have also been found outside the Aegean: in Egypt, the Levant, Mesopotamia, Cyprus, Anatolia and Sardinia (Figure 8). The presence of Aegean vessels outside the Aegean itself has sparked much research and a particular interest in the special form of rhyta, especially for the Levant, with discussions and catalogues by Leonard,66 Gert Jan van Wijngaarden,67 Marguerite Yon,68 and Hans-Günter Buchholz.69 The types of rhyta found are most commonly conical or zoomorphic. They appear to have largely adopted the Aegean usage of the objects, but with some appropriation – or transformation – to suit local cultural habits. I will take two case studies as examples: 1) conical rhyta with strainers, and 2) hedgehog-shaped rhyta in the Levant.

Figure 14 Egyptian imitation of Aegean conical rhyton, with strainer. From Tell el-Dab῾a (῾Ezbet Helmi), H/ II-x/13, ‘Ansammlung 1’. Early 18th Dynasty. Clay. H. 16.9cm, D. 10.3cm (rhyton) and H. 6.1cm, D. 13.0cm (strainer). Drawing by the author, after Hein 1994, 244245, nos. 310 and 314.

was found in an ‘offering pit’,72 both of which hint that the vessels may have been used for ritual purposes or in preparation for cultic events. A conical rhyton with the strainer attached, found in Ugarit, but in this case imported from Cyprus, provides another example of a Near Eastern adaptation of Aegean vessels.73 Here, the sieve is part of the vessel itself, and placed very near the rim, and essentially has the same effect as the Egyptian rhyton with separate strainer.74

Conical rhyta with strainers Several clay conical rhyta have been found at Tell el Dab῾a / ῾Ezbet Helmi in Egypt (Early 18th Dynasty).70 The vessels were all made of local Nile clay, and are therefore clearly imitations rather than imported specimens. What is interesting is that at least one of the rhyta was found with a clay strainer that fit neatly into the primary opening (Figure 14). If Koehl is correct that this type of rhyton was used as a strainer in the Aegean, here we have a case of adaptation of the vessel for such a usage. In the Aegean, we do not have evidence of straining devices attached to rhyta. It would then seem that the Egyptians adopted a similar filtering function, but transformed the technique used to carry it out. It should be noted that one of the other rhyta was found in a location ‘probably near or inside the area of the Sutekh temple district’,71 and one of the others

Hedgehog rhyta ‘Why a hedgehog?’ Albert Leonard asked in 2000, and the question remains an intriguing one (Leonard 2000).75 In the varied repertoire of animal-shaped rhyta in the Aegean, hedgehogs are one of the least common species. Hedgehogshaped rhyta have only been found on Mainland Greece, Koehl 2006, no. E9. Müller (1998) describes the many offering pits found at Avaris, associated especially with graves and temples. They often contain ‘miniature’ vessels, which Müller interprets as objects that were not actually used (some were found filled with mud or sand), but as purely symbolic. The rhyton found in an offering pit was a ‘miniature’, with a height of 4.2cm and a rim diameter of 7.0cm. 73 Yon 1980, no. 2, pl. XIII.3+5 74 Leonard reports another rhyton with strainer from Ugarit (Leonard 1994, 93, no. 1414), but the drawing referred to is very unclear (Schaeffer 1978, 308, fig. 36.17). 75 The topic was also discussed in some detail by Buchholz for Greece, with reference to finds in Egypt, Mesopotamia, Syria and the Levant (Buchholz 1965; Buchholz 1995), and by Rystedt with a focus on rhyta and askoi (Rystedt 1987 – note that the ‘new’ hedgehog vessel presented in this publication proved to be modern). 72

e.g. Skibo 1999 Leonard 1994, esp. 90-5 van Wijngaarden 2003 68 Yon 1980; Yon 1986; Yon 1997; Yon et al. 2000, 15-17; Yon 2006, 150-1 69 Buchholz 1999, esp. 595-8 and fig. 96 70 Hein 1994, 244-5, nos. 310 and 314; Hein 1998, 553; Koehl 2006, nos. E6-E9 71 Hein 1998, 553, fig. 1, inv. 7545 65 66 67

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L. Recht, Transformers Energize! and there only four examples to date, from Prosymna, Tanagra and Vari. Interestingly, they are more frequent outside the Aegean than within, despite being manufactured there, having been found on Cyprus (Myrtou-Pigades and Maroni) and in the Levant (Tell Abu Hawam, Kamid elLoz, Tell Sera’ and Ugarit) (see Figure 9).

Buchholz believed that the hedgehog had strong religious associations, and notes its likely apotropaic importance due to its spines, its ability to resist poisons and to keep the household free of rodents and snakes.88 The hedgehog is in some areas a hibernating animal, and may therefore also have been a ‘symbol of resurrection’, but Leonard thinks that the appeal was rather to the ‘bravery and natural defenses of the hedgehog when confronted by some of humankind’s most feared enemies’.89 The hedgehog may also have been used for medicinal purposes.90

It seems that the theme of the hedgehog has a much longer history in the Near East than in the Aegean. In the Aegean, the known hedgehog rhyta all date to LH IIIA2-IIIB1.76 They are not among the great variety of zoomorphic rhyta of EBA Crete, and in fact, it is doubtful if hedgehog representations occurred in any form on Minoan Crete – Buchholz refers to amulets from the sanctuary of Petsofas,77 but the excavation report itself only suggests the hedgehog as a possible identification; in the published images, the objects look more like known beetles from Crete.78 On the Greek Mainland, a limited amount of hedgehog representations do occur,79 though all are dated to LH IIIA2 or later. A possible earlier example is a vessel or figurine from Chalandriani on Syros, which represents a sitting hedgehog (or bear?) holding a bowl, with a single opening in the bowl; this is dated to Early Cycladic II, c. 2700-2200 BC.80

Whatever its exact symbolic importance, the hedgehog certainly appears to have a longer history in the Near East, and it is possible, therefore, that in the case of hedgehog rhyta, the Mycenaeans were responding to a local need, fitting the export to suit the receiver, rather than the receiver appropriating an exotic import. It may, however, have been attributed special value because it came from abroad.

Moments of discard: the power of the hidden In some cases, it may be argued that rhyta were deliberately taken out of circulation, either through destruction or by being placed in a location where they were no longer available for human usage, for example in so-called building deposits. A possible case of rhyta being deliberately destroyed has been suggested for stone rhyta, in particular those in the shape of a bovine head.91 There are 23 fragments of stone bovine rhyta, representing a minimum of six complete vessels.92 Not a single stone rhyta in the shape of a bovine head has been found complete. This may be no coincidence, since other stone vessels do survive as complete examples.93 Further,

In contrast, the first hedgehog representations in the Near East may date as far back as the 7th millennium BC, with examples from Bouqras in Syria (dated 6400-5900 BC).81 The first known hedgehog rhyton is probably the vessel from Jebel Aruda, dated 3500-3300 BC.82 It has both openings on the back, the secondary opening being an extra tube protruding out over the head of the hedgehog. The vessel was repaired in antiquity, testifying to the value attributed to it. A vessel from Arpachiyah from the Halaf period is probably also a rhyton.83 The primary opening is on the back through a cup-shaped top, and there may well have been a secondary opening through the mouth (unfortunately, this part is broken). Rhyta have also been found in second millennium Chagar Bazar and Tell Chuera.84 Hedgehogs are also found represented in other forms: as figurines (e.g. Tell Mozan),85 amulets (e.g. Tell Brak),86 and on seals and seal impressions (e.g. an IsinLarsa seal from Mesopotamia).87

Buchholz 1965; Buchholz 1995 Leonard 2000, 311-12, 314 90 Landsberger 1934, 103-4. McMahon thought that the examples from Chagar Bazar were ‘rattles’ (McMahon 2009, 203-4), based on analogies with similar finds in Mesopotamia. At Tell Asmar two hollow animal figurines were found, apparently with small pebbles inside (Frankfort et al. 1940, 211, 235, 240, figs. 119d, 121a, As. 31:400 and As. 30:22). However, these specimens do not appear to have the two openings that are clearly visible on the drawing of the Chagar Bazar example (McMahon 2009, pl. 71.18), in line with the usual location of rhyta openings. As musical instruments, the specimens functioning as ‘rattles’ may also have had ‘magico-religious’ associations (Buchholz 1965, 87) – note also the sistrum (a type of rattle) depicted in the hand of one of the men on the ‘Harvester Rhyton’. 91 Rehak 1995. Vessels of this shape, regardless of material, are almost univocally called ‘bull’s heads’. Given that only the head is depicted, it is in fact impossible to determine gender, and I therefore prefer to use terms such as ‘ox’, ‘bovine’ or ‘cattle’. Cows do occur in Aegean iconography (e.g. Evans 1921, 511, fig. 367; CMS II.3 no. 88 and CMS I no. 67), but more often than not, images of cattle (and many other animals) are ‘gender-neutral’, in the sense that the sex of the animal has not been indicated (e.g. CMS I no. 198, CMS II.3 no. 125, CMS IX no. 129). Further, very few animals have the potential to be sexed merely by the depiction of the head – sheep, goats and cattle are not in this category, but the lion/lioness is one instance, because only the male has a mane. (But note: is the famous limestone feline head from Knossos a lion or a lioness? See Evans 1928, 828, fig. 542). 92 Rehak 1995, 438 88 89

Koehl 2006, nos. 44-7 Buchholz 1965, 80 Bosanquet et al. 1902-1903, 377, pl. XIII, 62-3, comp. examples published in Davaras 1988, and CMS II.1, nos. 402, 405, 434, IV, no. 99. 79 Buchholz 1965, 78-80 80 Betancourt 2007, fig. 2.6 81 Weiss 1985, no. 9. Yon thought that the hedgehog type may in fact have originated in the Near East (Yon 1985, 272), which seems very likely given the provenance of the first known examples. Note, however, some very early specimens from Bulgaria and Romania dated to KodžadermenGumelniţa-Karanova VI (c. 4500-4000 BC, Busch 1981, 130-1, 198 nos. 147 and 225; Hansen 2007, 259, fig. 157.2). 82 Weiss 1985, no. 34 83 Mallowan and Rose 1933, 88, pl. Va, A99 84 Moortgat 1962, 19, figs. 13-14; McMahon 2009: 203-4, pl. 71.18 85 Hauser 2007, 295-7, nos. 400-1 86 Mallowan 1947, 101-2, no. 2, pl. X 87 Collon 1987, 44-5, no. 154 76 77 78

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World some of the fragments are found in deliberately closed contexts, as, for example, what appears to be a cist or building deposit at Knossos.94 Rehak suggests that these rhyta were destroyed by an initial hit above the muzzle, since no fragments survive from this area.95

One of the building deposits at Knossos was found in the southwest area of the Palace, near the place where the ‘Cup Bearer’ fresco was found, and the Procession Corridor.103 The deposit was found in a hollow, dug into the MM IB material, under a possible gypsum floor. The contents were dated to LM IB and consisted of a cup rhyton and two loom weights. This is an intriguing assemblage, juxtaposing seemingly domestic activity with ritual deposition. It may suggest that rhyta were part of a great variety of activities, including industries and crafts,104 but also that objects from activities considered ‘secular’ were appropriate for these foundation deposits: most importantly, it may suggest that strict modern categories of ‘profane’ and ‘sacred’ do not apply.

The importance of the bovine stone rhyta may again be related to the use of cattle as sacrificial animals in the Bronze Age Aegean – they are the animals most frequently depicted as sacrificed in Aegean iconography (most famously and explicitly on the Ayia Triada sarcophagus).96 Decorative elements on the bovine head rhyta support this association, such as the rosette on the forehead of the silver rhyton from Mycenae, and the double-axe motif on the forehead of the Knossos Little Palace rhyton.97 The horns were given special treatment, either by being of a different material or, as with several clay rhyta, being cut before firing and decorated with extra rolls of clay at the base of the horns;98 this may also be what is depicted on certain seals, for example on CMS II.3 no. 11 and XI no. 259, although here the horns remain intact. Sacrificial animals were sometimes part of processions and adorned with various ornaments, often placed on the forehead or the horns, and the double-axe was an important religious symbol also strongly associated with sacrifice.99

Conclusion In ‘moments of discard’, rhyta are deliberately taken out of circulation and, it could be said, thereby lose their value, but the ‘value’ of the rhyta may rather lie precisely in its destruction, or in being ‘hidden’. Rhyta appear to attain a seemingly paradoxical role where display and secrecy are two sides of the same coin. This is best epitomised by the trick rhyta, where the hidden is what makes the display of magic possible. The importance of display can likewise be detected in the extravagant material and decoration, coupled with iconography from the Aegean and Egypt, where the vessels are presented rather than used. The ‘miniature’ rhyton from Tell el-Dab῾a embodies a similar paradox, having been created for presentation, but likely never used, and eventually ‘hidden’ in an offering deposit. The rhyton’s ability to transform and be transformed in a variety of situations marks it as an extremely versatile and socially charged vessel: a Bronze Age transformer.

As mentioned, fragments from a stone rhyton were found in a possible building deposit at Knossos. Building deposits (perhaps better known as ‘foundation deposits’) might be placed under floors or inside the structure of a building, for example in walls, benches or altars. Their exact purpose is unknown, but in an extensive study of Near Eastern foundation deposits, Ellis suggests four main categories: sanctification, protection, commemoration and elaboration.100 To this can be added the possibility that these deposits were boundary markers, placed between spheres, and Herva’s recent suggestion that such deposits were part of a more dynamic relationship between humans and their environment.101 Building deposits constitute highly symbolically charged deposits, usually placed during the construction or restructuring of a building, but there is no reason to believe that they lose their potency after deposition. Their deposition may have been a matter of display and celebration, but they are thereafter hidden from human view and their power lies precisely in this concealment. Koehl identifies building deposits with rhyta at Pyrgos, Kommos, Phaistos, Knossos and Akrotiri.102

Bibliography Abbreviations CMS Corpus der minoischen und mykenischen Siegel EM/MM/LM Early/Middle/Late Minoan EH/MH/LH Early/Middle/Late Helladic

e.g. Koehl 2006, nos. 205-6, 225, 1126 Rehak 1995, 439 n. 21 95 Rehak 1995, 442, 451 96 Paribeni 1908. One should, however, be wary of calling it the sacrificial animal par excellence, since a complete survey of sacrificial animals found in all the material of the Bronze Age Aegean reveals that other animals were at least as prominent, if not more so, for example in the zooarchaeological record (Recht forthcoming). 97 Schliemann 1878, figs. 327-8; Evans 1928, fig. 330 98 Koehl 2006, 328-9. See also Marinatos 1986, 30-1. 99 Nilsson 1950, 194-235; Marinatos 1993, 79, 145; cf. Haysom 2010 100 Ellis 1968, 165-8 101 Herva 2005 102 Koehl 2006, 332-3, and Table 15. See also examples listed by Boulotis 93

Abramovitz, K. 1980. Frescoes from Ayia Irini, Keos. Parts II-IV. Hesperia 49, 57-85. Anderson, E. S. K. 2011. Through vessels of embodied action: approaching ritual experience and cultural interaction through Late Mycenaean rhyta. In J. E. Francis and G. W. M. Harrison (eds), Life and Death in

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1982; and Herva 2005. 103 MacDonald 1990, 85-7, fig. 8 104 For further contexts where loom weights and rhyta have been found together, see Koehl 2006, Table 17.

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World Platon, N. E. 1985. Zakros: The Discovery of a Lost Palace of Ancient Crete. Amsterdam, Hakkert. Recht, L. forthcoming. Sacrifice in the Bronze Age Aegean and Near East: a Poststructuralist Approach. British Archaeological Reports International Series. Oxford, BAR Publishing. Rehak, P. 1995. The use and destruction of Minoan stone bull’s head rhyta. In R. Laffineur and W.-D. Niemeier (eds), Politeia, 435-60. Aegaeum 12. Liège and Austin, Université de Liège and University of Texas. Rehak, P. 1998. Aegean natives in the Theban tomb paintings: the Keftiu revisited. In D. Harris-Cline and E. H. Cline (eds), The Aegean and the Orient in the Second Millennium, 39-51. Aegaeum 18. Austin and Liège, Université de Liège and University of Texas. Rodenwaldt, G. 1912. Tiryns: die Ergebnisse der Ausgrabungen des Instituts. Athens, Eleutheroudakis und Barth. Rystedt, E. 1987. Vases in the shape of hedgehogs Mycenaean and later. Medelhavsmuseet Bulletin 22, 28-39. Sackett, H. 1996. A bull’s head rhyton from Palaikastro. In D. Evely, I. S. Lemos, and S. Sherratt (eds), Minotaur and Centaur, 51-8. Oxford, BAR Publishing. Sakellarakis, Y. 1990. The fashioning of ostrich-egg rhyta in the Creto-Mycenaean Aegean. In D. A. Hardy (ed.), Thera and the Aegean World III, Vol. 1, 285-308. London, The Thera Foundation. Schaeffer, C. F.-A. (ed.) 1978. Ugaritica VII. Paris and Leiden, Paul Geuthner and E. J. Brill. Schiering, W. 1998. Minoische Töpferkunst: die bemalten Tongefäße der Insel des Minos. Mainz am Rhein, Philipp von Zabern. Schliemann, H. 1878. Mykenae: Bericht über meine Forschungen und Entdeckungen in Mykenae und Tiryns. Leipzig, F.A. Brockhaus. Shaw, J. W. 1978. Evidence for the Minoan tripartite shrine. American Journal of Archaeology 82, 429-48. Skibo, J. M. 1999. Pottery and people. In J.M. Skibo and G.M. Feinman (eds), Pottery and People: a Dynamic Interaction, 1-8. Salt Lake City, University of Utah Press. Specht, E. 1981. Zum trichterförmigen Rhyton. Archäologischer Anzeiger 1981, 15-19. Tuchelt, K. 1962. Tiergefässe in Kopf- und Protomengestalt: Untersuchungen zur Formgeschichte tierförmiger Gießgefäße. Berlin, Gebr. Mann Verlag. Tzedakis, Y., and H. Martlew (eds) 1999. Minoans and Mycenaeans: Flavours of Their Time. Athens, Greek Ministry of Culture. Vandersleyen, C. 2003. Keftiu: a cautionary note. Oxford Journal of Archaeology 22, 209-12. Vercoutter, J. 1956. L’Égypte et le monde égéen préhellénique. Cairo, L’institut Français d’archeologie orientale. Wachsmann, S. 1987. Aegeans in the Theban Tombs. Leuven, Peeters. Warren, P. 1969. Minoan Stone Vases. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press.

the mid-second millennium BC. In David Warburton (ed.), Time’s Up! Dating the Minoan Eruption of Santorini, 155–70. Athens, Danish Institute at Athens. Mallowan, M. E. L. 1947. Excavations at Brak and Chagar Bazar. Iraq 9, 1-87+89-259+i-iv. Mallowan, M. E. L., and J. C. Rose. 1935. Prehistoric Assyria: The Excavations at Tall Arpachiyah 1933. London, Oxford University Press. Marinatos, N. 1984. The date-palm in Minoan iconography and religion. Opuscula Atheniensia 15, 115-22. Marinatos, N. 1986. Minoan Sacrificial Ritual: Cult Practice and Symbolism. Stockholm, Paul Åströms Förlag. Marinatos, N. 1993. Minoan Religion: Ritual, Image, and Symbol. Columbia, University of South Carolina Press. McMahon, A. 2009. Once There Was a Place: Chagar Bazar, Settlement Archaeology at Chagar Bazar, 19992002. Exeter, Short Run Press. Meskell, L. (ed.) 2005. Archaeologies of Materiality. Malden, Mass., John Wiley & Sons. Moortgat, A. 1962. Tell Chuēra in Nordost-Syrien: vorläufiger Bericht über die dritte Grabungskampagne 1960. Köln and Opladen, Westdeutscher Verlag. Morris, C. 2007. Animals into art in the ancient world. In L. Kalof (ed.), A Cultural History of Animals in Antiquity, 175–98. A Cultural History of Animals 1. Oxford and New York, Berg. Mountjoy, P. A. 1993. Mycenaean Pottery: An Introduction. Oxford, Oxford University Committee for Archaeology. Müller, V. 1998. Offering deposits at Tell el-Dab῾a. In C. J. Eyre (ed.), Proceedings of the Seventh International Congress of Egyptologists, 793-803. Leuven, Peeters. Nikolakopoulou, I. 2010. Middle Cycladic iconography: a social context for ‘A new chapter in Aegean art’. In O. H. Krzyszkowska, (ed.), Cretan Offerings: Studies in Honour of Peter Warren, 213-22. London, British School of Athens. Nilsson, M. P. 1950. The Minoan-Mycenaean Religion and its Survival in Greek Religion. 2nd ed. New York, Biblo and Tannen. Noble, J. V. 1968. Some trick Greek vases. Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society 112, 371-8. Panagiotopoulos, D. 2001. Keftiu in context: Theban tomb-paintings as a historical source. Oxford Journal of Archaeology 20, 263-83. Paribeni, R. 1908. Il sarcofago dipinto di Haghia Triada. Monumenti antichi pubblicati per cura della reale accademia dei lincei 19, 5-86. Pernier, L. and L. Banti. 1951. Il palazzo Minoico di Festòs scavi e studi della missione archeologica Italiana a Creta dal 1900 al 1950, Vol. 2: Il secondo palazzo. Rome, Libreria dello stato. Petit, F. 1989. Les rhytons égéens du bronze moyen au bronze récent. In R. Laffineur (ed.), Transition: Le monde égéen du bronze moyen au bronze récent, 1319. Aegaeum 3. Liège, Université de l’Etat à Liège, Histoire de l’art et archéologie de la Grèce antique.

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L. Recht, Transformers Energize! Weiss, H. (ed.) 1985. Ebla to Damascus: Art and Archaeology of Ancient Syria. Washington, Smithsonian Institution Traveling Exhibition Service. van Wijngaarden, G. J. 2003. Use and Appreciation of Mycenaean Pottery in the Levant, Cyprus and Italy (1600-1200 BC). Amsterdam, Amsterdam University Press. Winter, I. J. 2010. On Art in the Ancient Near East, Volume II: From the Third Millennium B.C.E. Leiden and Boston, Brill. Yon, M. 1980. Rhytons chypriotes a Ougarit. Report of the Department of Antiquities Cyprus 1980, 79-83. Yon, M. 1986. Instruments de culte en Méditerranée orientale. In V. Karageorghis (ed.), Acts of the International Symposium “Cyprus Between the Orient and the Occident”, 265-88. Nicosia, Zavallis Press. Yon, M. 1997. Rhytons zoomorphes vases figuratifs au bronze récent. In V. Karageorghis, R. Laffineur, and F. Vandenabeele (eds), Four Thousand Years of Images on Cypriote Pottery, 49-60. Brussels, Vrije Universiteit. Yon, M. 2006. The City of Ugarit at Tell Ras Shamra. Winona Lake, Eisenbrauns. Yon, M., V. Karageorghis, and N. Hirschfeld. 2000. Céramiques Mycéniennes: Ras-Shamra-Ougarit XIII. Paris, ERC-ADPF.

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Der Wert des Kupfers Über die Entstehung und den Wandel von Wert vor 4000 Jahren Martin Hensler

Wertvolle Objekte, Wertansammlungen, Wertvernichtung sind Begriffe, die in der Archäologie häufig im Zusammenhang mit den umfangreichen Metallensembles bronzezeitlicher Depots fallen. Nur selten wird die damit verbundene Frage nach dem Wert selbst gestellt. Warum waren Objekte wertvoll? Was war die Basis des Wertes? Auf diese Fragen kann hier keine finite Antwort gegeben werden, doch sollen Alternativen zu den in der Forschung oft zurückprojizierten modernen Vorstellungen, Wert richte sich überwiegend nach Gewicht, Volumen und Material, aufgezeigt werden. Der Wert setzt sich aus unterschiedlichen Eigenschaften und Zuschreibungen zusammen. Ösenringe, Hortfunde, Frühbronzezeit, Kupfer, Wert, materielle Kultur, Konsum.

Objects of value, the collection of value, and its loss, are concepts which often arise in archaeology when confronted with the extensive metal assemblages of bronze age deposits. Only rarely are the associated questions asked about the concept of value itself. Why were objects valuable? What was the basis of this value? No definitive answers to these questions can be offered here, rather alternatives to the modern understandings of value, often projected from the present onto the past, are outlined. In these studies value is predominantly connected to weight, volume and material. Value rests both on different properties and appreciations. Ösenringe, hoards, early bronze age, copper, value, material culture, consumption

Ösenringe

In den Nachbardisziplinen der Vor- und Frühgeschichte wird seit langem über materielle Kultur diskutiert.1 Seit einigen Jahren findet dieser Diskurs in der europäischen und deutschsprachigen Archäologie vermehrt seinen Niederschlag.2 Angeregt durch diese Entwicklung wird das archäologische Material als materielle Kultur gesehen und hinsichtlich seiner Bedeutung und Wirkung untersucht. Diesen Faden greift das Dissertationsprojekt auf, das diesem Beitrag zu Grunde liegt. Im Zentrum des Interesses stehen die sogenannten Ösenringe der frühen Bronzezeit Mitteleuropas. Durch die Analyse dieser Objekte wird der Konsum von Kupfer und dessen Wert untersucht.

Ösenringe (vgl. Abb. 1) sind charakteristische Objekte der Frühbronzezeit Mitteleuropas. Eine Epoche, in der Kupfer bereits zu den gängigen Werkstoffen zählte, die aber unzweifelhaft noch agrarisch geprägt war und in der Metallurgie überwiegend eine marginale Rolle innerhalb der Subsistenzstrategien spielte. In der Zeit um 2000 v. Chr. wurden sie zwischen Rhein und Karpaten, Alpen und Ostsee in Gräbern und Horten vergraben.3 Benannt sind sie nach den charakteristischen Enden. Wahrscheinlich überwiegend im offenen Herdguss in einer Sandform gegossen, wurden erst die Stabkörper zu runden Stangen überarbeitet, die Enden flach gehämmert und durch Einrollen in die namensgebende Form gebracht, bevor die Stäbe zu Ringen gebogen wurden.4 Dabei benutzte man überwiegend Kupfersorten bestimmter Materialzusammensetzungen, die als Hinweis auf die elementare Zusammensetzung der Ausgangserze gedeutet und somit als Herkunftsanzeiger der Rohmaterialien oder aber als Anzeichen gezielt hergestellter Legierungen angesehen werden.5 Eine dieser Materialsorten ist das

Dieser Aufsatz stellt eine leicht geänderte Form eines Vortrages dar, der im Rahmen des Workshops „Momente der Transformation“ gehalten wurde. Er zeigt einen Zwischenstand eines der Forschungsprojekte des Graduiertenkollegs „Wert und Äquivalent“. An dieser Stelle möchte ich mich bei allen am Graduiertenkolleg beteiligten Personen und Institutionen, besonders meinem Betreuer Prof. Dr. R. Krause, für die Unterstützung bedanken. Für Anregungen und Diskussionen gilt mein Dank auch S. Fürst, Uni Mainz. 2 Vgl. Hahn 2005; Beispielsweise zeigt sich dies im Graduiertenkolleg „Wert und Äquivalent“ an der Goethe-Universität Frankfurt am Main und der Technischen Universität Darmstadt. 1

Die Begriffe Hort und Depot werden hier synonym und wertungsfrei verwendet. 4 Junk 2003, 170-3 5 Zu diesem Ansatz gibt es verschiedene Arbeiten. Zusammenfassend Krause 2003, bes. 201-6. 3

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World Trotz ihrer unscheinbaren Form waren diese Ringe bereits vielfach Gegenstand von Objektstudien.8 Hauptsächlich beschäftigten sich die jeweiligen Arbeiten nur mit einzelnen materiellen oder formalen Eigenschaften. Schwerpunkte lagen auf ihrem Vorkommen in Horten, dem Gewicht, dem Material und den Materialeigenschaften. Erst H. Vandkilde erstellte einen gesamtheitlichen Überblick, eine Objektbiographie, die auf den älteren Arbeiten aufbaut und diese mit ethnologischen und soziologischen Theorien verbindet.9 Gerade die Kombination der archäologischen Fakten mit den geistes- und kulturwissenschaftlichen Theorien zeigt den zukünftigen Weg für vergleichbare Studien. Vandkilde befreite zudem die Diskussion um die Ösenringe von der Bürde der dialektischen Diskussion über die Deutung der Horte mit ihren Polen profan und sakral, Ware und Gabe. Aufgrund des häufigen Vorkommens der Ringe in den Horten, waren die Versuche ihrer Interpretation diesen wechselnden Dogmen unterworfen.10 Hortfundhorizonte mit Schatzverstecken bedrohter Menschen, die in scheinbar kollektiver Angst vor Invasoren oder inneren Unruhen ihre Wertobjekte vergruben, wurden zu einer weltlichen Erklärung ebenso herausgearbeitet, wie man individuelle Warenverstecke wandernder Handwerker in ihnen sehen wollte.11 Schließlich setzte sich die sakrale Interpretation weitgehend durch. Angeregt durch neuere Arbeiten zur Hortdeutung, wie denen D. Fontijns, wird dieser Dualismus langsam aufgelöst.12 Weitere Archäologen schließen sich dieser Auffassung an. Horte werden nicht nach ihrer möglichen Motivation untersucht, sondern hinsichtlich ihrer Bedeutung für die Gesellschaft. Von Händlerverstecken oder Opfergaben werden sie zu strukturellen Elementen der menschlichen Lebenswelt. Sie erfüllten Aufgaben als ordnungsstiftende Fixpunkte in der Strukturierung der Umwelt, in der zeitlichen Staffelung des Lebenswegs und innerhalb der Gemeinschaft.13 Diesem allgemeinen Paradigmenwechsel soll im Folgenden Rechnung getragen werden.

Abbildung 1 Maßstabsgetreue Skizze eines Ösenringbarrens mit Darstellung des Durchmessers.

sogenannte Ösenringkupfer. Die Bezeichnung beruht auf dem überaus häufigen Nachweis einer bestimmten Elementkombination mit deutlichen Anteilen an Arsen, Antimon und Silber aber ohne Nickel in den Ösenringen.6 Noch heute ist das unterschiedliche Maß an Sorgfalt, das man für die einzelnen Produktionsschritte aufgebracht hat, augenscheinlich. Viele Ringe sind schlecht gegossen, anschließend kaum überarbeitet und nur grob geformt. Fein gearbeitete Exemplare findet man überwiegend in Gräbern. In einigen Fällen kann durch ihre Lage im Grab eine Nutzung als Halsring rekonstruiert werden.7 Diese Ösenhalsringe sind aufgrund ihres Überarbeitungsgrades, des Materials und des Gewichts von den Ösenringbarren aus Horten zu trennen. Es ist ihrer Ähnlichkeit und der Forschungsgeschichte geschuldet, dass sie weiterhin unter einem Namen geführt werden. Gut gearbeitete leichte Exemplare sind auch aus Horten bekannt, doch fehlen die groben und schwereren Barren in den Grablegen gänzlich. Die Art ihres Auftretens im archäologischen Befund ist regional unterschiedlich. Im südlichen Verbreitungsgebiet, Süddeutschland, Böhmen und Österreich, dominieren reine Horte, die im Umfang zwischen wenigen Ösenringen und einigen hundert Exemplaren variieren. Parallel dazu gibt es in den donauländischen Bronzezeitgruppen Gräber mit einzelnen oder kleinen Sets von Ösenringen. Weiter nördlich, von Mitteldeutschland und Mähren bis an die Ostsee, deponierte man gemischte Horte, Ensembles mit nur einzelnen oder wenigen Ösenringen, dafür aber kombiniert mit Schmuck, Trachtbestandteilen, Waffen und Werkzeugen. Verglichen mit dem Voralpenland gibt es im nördlichen Verbreitungsgebiet nur wenige Bestattungen mit Ösenringen.

Forschungsgeschichtliche Theorien zur Deutung der Ösenringe hinsichtlich Wertgrundlage und den Momenten der Wertentstehung und Wertwandlung Wert wird in diesem Beitrag nicht als eine universal definierte Eigenschaft verstanden, sondern als ein Konstrukt aus dem Gegenstand eigenen und ihm

Z. B. Menke 1982; Eckel 1992; Lenerz-de Wilde 1995; Butler 2003; Krause 2003; Junk 2003; Vandkilde 2005. 9 Vandkilde 2005. Dieser ganzheitliche Ansatz zur Deutung bronzezeitlicher Horte wird u.a. bei Ţârlea 2008 weiter ausgeführt. 10 Eine gute Zusammenfassung bei Fontijn 2002. Die letzte Dogmatisierung zur Deutung der frühbronzezeitlichen Horte erfolgte mit dem Ausstellungskatalog Hänsel and Hänsel 1997. Der plakative Titel „Gaben an die Götter“ wurde zum Leitfaden der Hortdeutung. 11 Horte als Verstecke aus Notzeiten z. B. Reinecke 1930, 112 Anm. 15. Zu den Verwahrfunden Stein 1976, 12, 30. 12 Fontijn 2002; Fontijn 2008 13 Zur räumlichen Gliederung Ballmer 2010. Zur Funktion in der Gesellschaft Krenn-Leeb 2008; Krenn-Leeb 2010. 8

Vgl. z. B. Krause 2003, 297. Zur Trageweise Novotná 1984, 6. Zur Lage in den Gräbern z. B. Neugebauer and Neugebauer 1997 Verf. 47, 110, 130, 143 und weitere. 6 7

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M. Hensler, Der Wert des Kupfers zugeschriebenen Komponenten.14 Für die Menschen in der Bronzezeit ergab sich der Wert eines Gegenstandes aus dessen Eignung, die bestehenden Bedürfnisse zu befriedigen. Diese Eignung und somit der Wert war abhängig von den Eigenschaften der Objekte. Dem Gegenstand eigene Komponenten können dabei Gewicht, technische Eigenschaften des Materials und Ähnliches sein, während zugeschriebene Komponenten beispielsweise symbolische oder emotionale Aufladungen sowie Sinngebungen durch Menschen sind. Durch diese Kriterien wurde der Wert beeinflusst und geregelt.

Ösenringbarren, Ösenhalsringe als eine Abstufung von unterschiedlich weit bearbeiteten Rohlingen.17 Unter anderem wurden arbeitsteilige Herstellungsprozesse rekonstruiert, in denen die Ringe in Heimarbeit und abseits der Lagerstätten überarbeitet wurden. Die Horte bildeten die jeweiligen Vorräte an zu bearbeitenden Rohlingen.18 Novotná vermutete eine Entwicklung vom einfachen Schmuckobjekt zu einem Symbol. Durch die Ringe wäre die soziale Stellung des Trägers kommuniziert worden.19 Mit der Beigabe solcher Ringe in Kindergräbern wird möglicherweise die Erblichkeit der mit den Ösenringen verbundenen Funktionen oder Rollen belegt.20 Für die Erklärung des Vorkommens der Halsringe in Horten könnten Deutungsansätze aufgegriffen werden, die in die Richtung von Grabdepots oder einer Charakterisierung des Gebenden oder des Adressaten durch die Objekte weisen.21

Als Einstieg in die Diskussion um Wert, speziell den Wert des Kupfers und der Ösenringe, wird ein Überblick über die Vorstellungen gegeben, die rückblickend mit den Artefakten verbunden wurden. Oft gehen die jeweiligen Autoren nicht explizit auf die angenommene Wertgrundlage ein, doch bieten die Interpretationsmodelle die Möglichkeit, diese zu rekonstruieren. Exemplarisch wird dies an einigen Deutungsversuchen umgesetzt.

Es steht außer Frage, dass Ösenhalsringe teilweise Halsschmuck und möglicherweise Statussymbole oder Prestigeobjekte waren. Ebenso sicher sind Ösenhalsringe und Ösenringbarren zu unterscheiden. Für letztere ist eine Verwendung als Schmuck oder Trachtbestandteil nicht anzunehmen. Ebenso lassen sowohl die Gewichte als auch die Materialzusammensetzungen darauf schließen, dass Barrenringe nicht die Rohformen von Ösenhalsringen waren.22 Über den Phänotyp kann man zwar eine enge Verbindungslinie zwischen beiden Artefaktgruppen ziehen, doch sind sie getrennt voneinander zu behandeln.

Zur Veranschaulichung der Rekonstruktionen der Wertgrundlagen in den einzelnen Deutungsansätzen, dienen fünf Oberbegriffe. Als umschreibende Bezeichnungen werden Schmuck/Halbfertigprodukt, Verhandlungsform des Rohmaterials, prämonetäres Zahlungsmittel, Gaben an die Götter und soziale Praxis aus der allgemeinen Diskussion übernommen. An mehreren Punkten überlagern sich die hinter den Worten verborgenen Vorstellungen. Diese Begriffe bewegen sich auf unterschiedlichen Ebenen. So sind Verhandlungsform, Schmuck und Zahlungsmittel auf die Objekte bezogen, während Gaben an die Götter und soziale Praxis den Umgang mit diesen beschreiben. Da auch die handlungsorientierten Ansätze durch die Konzepte hinter den Gegenständen bedingt sind, werden sie den anderen vergleichend zur Seite gestellt.

Der Wert eines solchen Schmuckstückes und auch zu einem gewissen Teil dessen Rohlings, würde sich auf Zuschreibungen gründen. Das Material hätte als Grundvoraussetzung der Existenz und der elementaren Eigenschaften des Gegenstandes seine Bedeutung, doch würde dieses durch weitere Komponenten überlagert werden. Allen voran wäre es die Form, die für einen Schmuckgegenstand relevant ist. Weitere wichtige Punkte können Farbe, Glanz, Klang, Herkunft und Objektbiographie sein. Weitere mögliche Bestandteile sind Tabus und soziale Regeln oder Sitten, die den Wert der Gegenstände und den Umgang mit ihnen beeinflusst haben könnten. Beispielsweise sind Reglementierungen denkbar, wer bestimmten Schmuck besitzen und tragen durfte. Solche nichtstofflichen Eigenschaften von Objekten sind nicht zu überprüfen, aber wahrscheinlich ein wichtiger Bestandteil der damaligen Lebenswelt gewesen.

Schmuck/Halbfertigprodukt Das Vorkommen zahlreicher Ösenringe in Gräbern und dort in einer eindeutigen Lage am Hals der Toten, die eine Rekonstruktion als Schmuck oder Trachtbestandteil ermöglicht, führte zu einer Einordnung aller Ösenringe in die Kategorien Schmuck oder Tracht.15 Verschiedene Forscher haben bis in die jüngere Vergangenheit die fertigen Ösenhalsringe als idealen Zustand der Ösenringbarren angesehen, der bei allen Exemplaren angestrebt, doch nicht bei allen erreicht wurde.16 Manche Archäologen beschrieben die Reihung Spangenbarren,

Butler 2003, 240-1 Novotná 1981, 125 20 Mitscha-Märheim 1929, 188 21 Zur Verbindung zwischen Grab und Hort z. B.: Krenn-Leeb 2008, 172-3. Zu einem „Göttinnenkult“ im Zusammenhang mit der frühbronzezeitlichen Deponierung von Halsringen in Schleswig-Holstein vgl. Endrigkeit 2010, 87. 22 Zu den Gewichten Lenerz-de Wilde 1995, 267-9; zur Metallzusammensetzung Krause 2003, 114-17. Dieser merkt auch an, dass die teils unterschiedliche Zusammensetzung chronologisch bedingt sein kann. 18 19

Vgl. hierzu z. B. Kopytoff 1986, 83 der eine vergleichbare Verbindung aus dem Gegenstand eigenen und ihm zugeschriebenen Komponenten annimmt. 15 Zur Lage der Ösenringe in Gräbern z. B.: Novotná 1984, 6; Neugebauer/ Neugebauer 1997. 16 Z. B. Butler 2003. 17 Stein 1976, 42-5 14

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World hatte, die durchaus in einer Verbindung mit dem Wert stehen könnte. Mögliche Aspekte sind Farbe, Klang, Formbarkeit oder aber die Herkunft. Bei dem Interpretationsansatz als Verhandlungsform wird dem bronzezeitlichen Menschen hinsichtlich der Wertgrundlage für die Objekte ein sehr rationales Denken unterstellt. Ausschlaggebend für die Wertschätzung wären allein der Materialwert und der Gebrauchswert des Kupfers. Die Verhandlungsform wäre nach bestimmten Kriterien normiert worden. Gewicht, Handhabung beim Transport und weitere Punkte mögen dabei wichtig gewesen sein. Durch die Formgebung hätte man den Wert sehr einfach erkennen und die Ringe als Bündel bewerten und verhandeln können. Allerdings hätte man die Form nicht zwingend benötigt, um den Wert des Gegenstandes zu bestimmen.

Verhandlungsform von Rohkupfer In der wissenschaftlichen Auseinandersetzung mit den bronzezeitlichen Funden kam sehr früh die Meinung auf, es handle sich bei den Ösenringen um die frühbronzezeitliche Verteilungsform für Rohkupfer.23 Gemeint ist damit die Gestalt, in der das Kupfer von den Schmelzplätzen der Erze zu den Verbrauchern gelangte. Mit der Deutung als Tauschgut wurde häufig auch eine Funktion als Wertmesser oder als Tauschmittel verbunden, auf die später eingegangen wird. Dieser Überlegung verdanken die Objekte ihre heutige Bezeichnung als Barren. Ausgangspunkt für diese These war die Gleichförmigkeit der Gegenstände sowie deren häufiges Auftreten in Horten. Zudem konzentrieren sich die Funde im Umfeld der Lagerstätten von Kupfererzen und werden mit größerem Abstand zu diesen seltener. Im Zusammenhang mit diesem Ansatz steht der Vorschlag, Horte als eine gezielte Beeinflussung des Kupfermarktes zu sehen, da es sich um eine absichtliche Verknappung des verfügbaren Materials handle.24 Bezieht man diese Sichtweise auf die allgemeine Hortsitte, so führt sie zu einer überwiegend profanen Deutung. Barrenhorte wären Händlerverstecke, Materiallager von Gießern oder Metallvorräte von Gruppen.

Prämonetäres Zahlungsmittel Der Ansatz, frühbronzezeitliche Kupfergegenstände als prämonetäres Zahlungsmittel zu deuten, ist sehr populär. Mehrfach wurde diese Überlegung bereits in die Diskussion um verschiedene Objekte eingebracht.28 Für die derzeitige Bevorzugung dieses Ansatzes in der Wissenschaft ist eine Arbeit von M. Lenerz-de Wilde maßgeblich verantwortlich.29 Über die Gleichförmigkeit und die Standardisierung hat sie auf eine Funktion der Ösenringe als frühe Form von Geld geschlossen. Sie postulierte eine Entwicklungsabfolge von den Ösenhalsringen über die Ösenringbarren und die Spangenbarren bis hin zu den mittel- und spätbronzezeitlichen Brucherzstücken.30 Ihr Kernargument war die scheinbare Normierung des Gewichts der Ösenringbarren in dem Bereich um 200 g. Sie zeigte regionale Unterschiede in diesen Konzentrationen auf, die um einige Gramm schwanken. Ihrer Meinung nach wurde versucht, diese Gewichtsbereiche möglichst genau zu erreichen. Die entsprechenden Konzentrationen um 200 g sind in ihrer statistischen Aufarbeitung des Fundstoffes offensichtlich, doch ob diese angestrebt oder das Produkt einer andersartigen Normierung waren, bleibt offen. Insgesamt ist festzuhalten, dass Ösenringe durchaus Funktionen erfüllt haben können, die heute in erster Linie Geld zugesprochen werden. Lenerz-de Wilde zählte mit Bezug auf P. Einzig einige mögliche Funktionen „primitiven Geldes“ auf. Bei diesen handelte es sich um Wertspeicher, Wertmaßstab, Tauschmittel und die nicht kommerzielle Gabe, die dem Zahlungsmittel entspricht.31

Mit Hilfe der inzwischen sehr zahlreichen Metallanalysen bronzezeitlicher Objekte konnte R. Krause zeigen, dass das charakteristische Ösenringkupfer überwiegend an das Verbreitungsgebiet der Ösenringe gebunden ist.25 Um aber die These der Verhandlungsform zu stützen, fehlt der Beleg für ein regelhaftes Umschmelzen. Wäre dies der Fall gewesen, so müssten wesentlich mehr Kupferartefakte anderer Gestalt die typische Materialkomposition des Ösenringkupfers haben, was aber nur für bestimmte Regionen zutreffend ist.26 Eine Funktion als Verhandlungsform von Rohkupfer ist also nicht allgemein zu belegen. Erschwert wird dies zusätzlich durch das mögliche Wiederverwenden alter Kupferobjekte durch Einschmelzen und das Legieren mit anderen Metallen oder Kupfersorten. Dennoch sind viele Kupfersorten an bestimmte Objekttypen gebunden, nicht so aber beispielsweise eine Variante des Ösenringkupfers, jene mit Nickel. Diese kommt in weiten Teilen Mitteleuropas vor, doch nur in verhältnismäßig wenig Barren.27 Es fehlen weiterhin klare Indizien. Diese kurze Zusammenstellung zeigt, dass hier noch Raum für weitere Untersuchungen ist.

Die verschiedenen genannten Funktionen erfüllten die Barrenringe unterschiedlich gut, beziehungsweise lassen sich diese Funktionen argumentativ unterschiedlich schlüssig belegen. Durch die ungleiche Verteilung von

Ausgehend von der häufigen Verwendung des Ösenringkupfers zur Herstellung von Ösenringbarren, kann man allgemein darauf schließen, dass das Material eine gewisse Relevanz für die Bedeutung der Ösenringe

Z. B. v. Brunn 1947; Coblenz 1951. Lenerz-de Wilde 1995. Weitere Arbeiten in dem Zusammenhang sind Sommerfeld 1994 und Lenerz-de Wilde 2002 und 2011. 30 Lenerz-de Wilde 1995, 320-1 31 Lenerz-de Wilde 1995, 230; Einzig 1949 zitiert nach Lenerz-de Wilde 1995. 28

Z. B. Klose 1931, 150; Tihelka 1965, 83. 24 Bradley 1990, 40 25 Krause 2003, 160 26 Krause 2003, 164 27 Krause 2003, 164-6, 200 23

29

56

M. Hensler, Der Wert des Kupfers Kupferlagerstätten und die weiträumige Verteilung der Ösenringe wird bereits angezeigt, dass Ösenringe Gegenstand von Austauschbeziehungen waren. Welche Rolle sie dabei spielten, ist unklar. Mit hoher Wahrscheinlichkeit kann man von einer Funktion abseits des alltäglichen Austauschs ausgehen, denn für diesen ist die Menge an Kupfer in einem Ösenring zu groß. Beispielsweise kommt K. Rassmann für das Gräberfeld von Franzhausen auf eine Menge von im Schnitt 67 g Kupfer pro Erwachsenem, was verglichen mit einem Ösenring von 180 bis 200 g relativ wenig ist.32 Diese Argumentation baut allerdings auf der Prämisse auf, Kupfer per se als wertvoll und begehrenswert einzuschätzen und die Menge des Kupfers als Kriterium für Wert, Wertschätzung und soziale Gliederungen anzusehen. Sobald einem dauerhaften Gegenstand ein Wert innewohnt oder ihm zugesprochen wird, kann er als Wertspeicher dienen. Da Kupfer gerade im Vergleich zu organischen Materialien verhältnismäßig widerstandsfähig ist, würde es sich als Wertspeicher anbieten. Eher unwahrscheinlich ist eine Nutzung als Wertmaßstab. Dafür fehlen archäologische Belege und für archaische Gesellschaften ist nach H. Znoj von singulären Gleichsetzungen und nicht von einer allgemeinen Vergleichbarkeit von Wert auszugehen. Singuläre Gleichsetzung meint eine ad hoc Verhandelte oder mittels gesellschaftlicher Regelung, beispielsweise durch Tauschsphären, herbeigeführte Übereinkunft über die Gleichsetzung des Wertes bestimmter Objekte. Diese Gleichsetzung bezieht sich auf den konkreten Austausch von den beispielhaft gewählten Objekten oder Objektgruppen A und B. Eine gewisse Menge A entspricht einer gewissen Menge B. Durch die zusätzliche singuläre Gleichsetzung von A mit einer weiteren Objektgruppe C ergibt sich nicht, dass C mit dem Äquivalent von B zu A gleichwertig und austauschbar ist.33 Möglicherweise können solche Relationen innerhalb der Horte gefunden werden. Dafür ist eine Analyse der Hortkomposition notwendig.34 Die Deponierungen und das gemeinsame Vorkommen bestimmter Gegenstände sind noch kein Beleg für eine solche Relation. Notwendig wäre das regelhafte Auftreten bestimmter Verhältnisse. Einer Deutung als Zahlungsmittel steht nichts im Wege. Betrachtet man die Horte als Gaben an die Götter, ist es naheliegend. Ebenso könnten die Ringe innerhalb der Gesellschaft als Zahlungsmittel bei unterschiedlichen Anlässen gedient haben. Mittels Zahlungen könnten beispielsweise Schulden, nicht nur im materiellen Sinn, gesühnt und dadurch die gesellschaftliche Ordnung gesichert werden. Dabei muss und kann häufig keine absolute Entsprechung geleistet werden, auch bedingt durch den fehlenden Wertmaßstab.35 Abgesehen von den später behandelten

Gaben an Götter, würde ein archäologischer Nachweis solcher Handlungen nicht entstehen oder zu deuten sein.

Rassmann 2011, 350. Wobei solche Zahlen aus teilweise beraubten Gräberfeldern und Rekonstruktionen von persönlichem Kupferbesitz und Jahresbedarf mit Vorsicht zu betrachten sind. 33 Znoj 1995, 78-9, 82-3 34 Diese Analyse wird nach der Fertigstellung ein Teil der Dissertation sein, aus der hier berichtet wird. 35 Vgl. Znoj 1995, 91-2.

36

Grundlage für die Verwendung als Zahlungsmittel wäre die allgemeine Akzeptanz als ein solches, also ein zugeschriebener Wert. Der Wert des Materials spielte sicherlich eine Rolle, doch ist die mit der Form verbundene Vorstellung beherrschend. Es kann durchaus verschiedene Gründe geben, warum diese Gegenstände mit einer solchen Zuschreibung verbunden gewesen sein könnten. Möglicherweise waren die Ösenringbarren durch die Ähnlichkeit ihres Erscheinungsbildes mit den Halsringen wichtiger Personen wertvoll geworden und haben sich als Zahlungsmittel etabliert. Ausgangspunkt kann aber auch eine Funktion als Rohmaterialbarren und die diesen entgegengebrachte Wertschätzung gewesen sein.

Gaben an die Götter Bisher wurden drei Deutungsansätze, als Schmuck/ Halbfertigprodukt, Verhandlungsform oder Zahlungsmittel, für die Artefakte skizziert. Für ein tieferes Verständnis der Objekte ist es notwendig auch zwei der gängigen Interpretationsmodelle der häufigsten Befunde mit Ösenringen zu besprechen. Depotfunde als Opfergaben, Votivgaben oder wie A. und B. Hänsel schrieben „Gaben an die Götter“ zu deuten, hat eine lange Tradition.36 Prinzipiell kann ein Gegenstand aller drei oben beschriebenen Gebrauchsformen als eine Gabe an höhere Mächte verwendet werden, doch ist dieser Ansatz eng mit dem der prämonetären Zahlungsmittel verbunden. Über die besonderen Eigenschaften von Kupfer, seine Bedeutung in der Frühbronzezeit und die selektive Zusammenstellung der Horte hat B. Hänsel ein Primat der kultischen Deutung konstruiert.37 Der Mensch habe in Abhängigkeit zu den Göttern gestanden und versucht, diese milde zu stimmen.38 Tatsächlich widerspricht die überwiegende Zahl der Hortfunde dieser These nicht. Zumindest die Entstehung der Horte in rituellen Handlungen, scheint wahrscheinlich. Dennoch sind Vorbehalte gegen ein solches Dogma angebracht.39 In Fall der Verwendung als Gaben an die Götter ist die Zuschreibung die dominante Wertkomponente. Alles kann an höhere Wesen geopfert werden und möglicherweise dadurch selbst noch Wert erhalten. Dass der Wert nicht zwingend an das Material oder die Form gebunden sein muss, ist an den unterschiedlichen Objekten, den verschiedenen Zusammenstellungen und den unterschiedlichen Materialien zu sehen. Zu erinnern Zur Historie dieser Deutungsrichtung Fontijn 2002, 15. Zur Formulierung „Gaben an die Götter“ vgl. Hänsel and Hänsel 1997. 37 Hänsel 1997, 13-15 38 Hänsel 1997, 12-13 39 Eggert 2003, 428-39 40 Endrigkeit 2010, 84 verweist auf neolithische Horte mit Silices. Zur Funktion von Keramikdepots Krenn-Leeb 2008, 183-4.

32

57

Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World ist hier an neolithische Deponierungen ohne Kupfer und bronzezeitliche Keramikdepots.40

eines Gegenstandes, sondern flexibel oder singulär durch gesellschaftliche Regeln definiert.46 Auf Grund dieser beiden Faktoren sind konkrete Werte archäologisch nicht zu rekonstruieren.

Soziale Praxis Seit einigen Jahren wird vermehrt nicht mehr nach der vordergründigen Motivation für eine Deponierung gefragt, sondern nach den tieferliegenden Funktionen für die Gesellschaft. D. Fontijn kam zum Schluss, bei Horten könne es sich unter anderem um Versuche handeln, importiertes fremdes Material in der lokalen Gesellschaft zu rekontextualisieren und nutzbar zu machen.41 Zudem könne ein Zusammenhang mit der Annahme und Aufgabe bestimmter Funktionen und Rollen durch einzelne Personen bestehen. Beispielsweise könnten Waffenhorte Reste einer Handlung sein, in der ein Krieger in die zivile Gesellschaft überführt wurde und dabei seine militärische Ausrüstung aufgab.42 Andere Ansätze beschäftigen sich mit der räumlichen Strukturierung der Lebenswelt durch Depots.43 A. Krenn-Leeb wiederum sieht in den Horten Mittel, um bestimmte Strategien der Tradition, Innovation und Legitimation umzusetzen.44 Die Niederlegung der Horte wird zur Kommunikation. Diese funktioniert fiktiv mit höheren Mächten oder real innerhalb von und zwischen Gruppen.45 In diesen Bereich fallen zudem Zahlungen zur Reduktion von innergesellschaftlichen Spannungen wie Wergeld und Brautpreis.

Es ist aber möglich und notwendig, die Grundlage des Wertes herauszuarbeiten. Die Frage lautet also nicht wie viel etwas wert war, sondern welche Komponentenkombinationen den Wert schufen. Waren es das Material, die Nützlichkeit, die Form, Zuschreibungen oder sonstige Faktoren? Hierfür wird der Umgang mit Ösenringen als Konsum betrachtet. Konsum ist ein Prozess, der bei der Entdeckung des Bedürfnisses beginnt, über die Wahl der notwendigen Charakteristika von Dienstleistungen oder Objekten zur Befriedigung des Bedarfs, dem Erwerb, dem Gebrauch, dem Vorzeigen, dem Verbrauch bis zum Entäußern, der Auf- oder Abgabe des Gegenstandes und der Schaffung von Grundlagen für künftigen Bedarf reicht.47 Zentral ist der Gedanke, dass Konsum durch die Gesellschaft geregelt wird, doch der Konsum ebenso die Gesellschaft bestätigt und umformt.48 Konsum ist Kommunikation und wird als solche praktiziert und wahrgenommen.49 Personen werden durch den beobachteten Umgang anderer Menschen mit Gegenständen geprägt. Daher ist davon auszugehen, dass Personen, die in einer Gesellschaft sozialisiert wurden, gerade in einer Epoche, die noch stärker in ihren Konsumentscheidungen reglementiert war, sich an vergleichbaren Kriterien oder Wertmaßstäben orientieren.50 Diese waren ausschlaggebend für den Erwerb und spiegeln die grundlegenden Komponenten des Wertes wider. Auf eine sehr einfache Formel reduziert: Benötigt man nur Kupfer, ist die Form zu vernachlässigen; orientiert man sich an der Form, so wird diese relativ einheitlich sein. Gibt es für diese Eigenschaften kein geeignetes Mittel zur Festlegung eines Äquivalents, so bestimmt das Bedürfnis den Wert und dies zeigt sich in den gewählten Kriterien.51 Rekonstruiert man die Charakteristika, so kommt man der Struktur des Werts näher. Dementsprechend werden die Ösenringe hinsichtlich ihrer Eigenschaften untersucht. Hierzu gibt es bereits einige Vorarbeiten.52 Bisher können nur Ausschnitte der laufenden Arbeit präsentiert werden.

Alle Ansätze wirken schlüssig hergeleitet und plausibel. Bereits dies zeigt, dass der Wert der Objekte innerhalb der sozialen Praxis sehr vielseitig sein kann. Daher muss Wert in diesem Fall über Zuschreibungen funktioniert haben. Die Zuschreibung des Fremden muss ersetzt werden, um die Gegenstände oder das Material nutzen zu können. Als Zeichen für bestimmte Rollen werden sie vergraben, um diese Rollen abzustreifen. Nur durch die von außen an sie herangetragenen Bedeutungen als neu, modern oder bedeutsam, können sie für Innovation oder einen Herrschaftsanspruch stehen.

Konsumkriterien als Ausgangspunkt zur Rekonstruktion der Wertgrundlage Diese Zusammenstellung zeigt, dass häufig ein bestimmter Wert vorausgesetzt ist, doch überwiegend nicht näher auf diesen eingegangen wird. Das Konzept Wert ist für die Vorgeschichte schwer zu fassen. Dies liegt nicht nur an der Quellenbasis der archäologischen Wissenschaften, sondern auch an den gesellschaftlichen Voraussetzungen. Wert war keine allgemein vergleichbare Eigenschaft

Wiswede 2000, 24 Z. B. Wiswede 2000, 25; Douglas and Isherwood 1996, XXIV. 49 Douglas and Isherwood 1996, 38-41; Foxhall 1998, 306; Bosch 2010, 78 50 Zur Regulation von Konsum in vormorderne Gesellschaften im Vergleich zu heute z. B. Bosch 2010, 35. 51 Das Fehlen eines Mittels zur Feststellung des Wertes kann am Fehlen eines Wertmaßstabes liegen oder an dem abstrakten Wert durch Zuschreibungen. Zur Verdeutlichung kann der moderne Kunstmarkt genommen werden. Kunst und der Besitz von Kunst haben einen hohen zugeschriebenen Wert, der aber nicht beziffert werden kann. Dies führt zu teilweise sehr hohen Preisen. 52 Zu den Gewichten Lenerz-de Wilde 1995; zum Material Eckel 1992; Krause 2003; Junk 2003. 47 48

Fontijn 2002, 278-9 Fontijn 2002, 232 43 Ballmer 2010 44 Krenn-Leeb 2008, 183-7 45 Zu Horten als Kommunikation Krenn-Leeb 2008, 177; Vachta 2008, 118. 46 Znoj 1995,73-84 41 42

58

M. Hensler, Der Wert des Kupfers

Abbildung 2 Histogramm der Durchmesser süddeutscher Barrenringe in 0,5 cm Schritten.

Konsum der Ösenringe

Gewicht M. Lenerz-de Wilde legte dem Wert der Ösenringe deren Gewicht, also die Masse an Kupfer, zugrunde.53 Mit Histogrammen, aufgeteilt in 10 g Schritten, hat sie verdeutlicht, dass sich die Gewichte, wie oben bereits beschrieben, in bestimmten Bereichen konzentrieren. Für Süddeutschland ermittelte sie einen Mittelwert von 187 g und die Spanne zwischen 190 und 200 g als jene, mit der häufigsten Merkmalsausprägung. In den übrigen Regionen mit Funden von Barrenringen, hat sie ähnliche Werte erhalten, die jedoch um einige Gramm abweichen können. Zwei Gruppen an Gewichtswerten sind erkennbar. Depots aus Niederösterreich und Mähren haben die Gipfel der Gewichtsverteilungen überwiegend bei 200 g. Böhmische und süddeutsche Horte weisen solche Ansammlungen der Messwerte zwischen 180 und 190 g auf.54 Um eine gewichtsbasierte Wertgrundlage zu belegen, werden häufig weitere Fakten angeführt. Hierzu zählen die gelegentlich vorkommenden angegossenen Manschetten und Drahtumwicklungen an Barren, die teils als Gewichtskorrektur gedeutet werden, sowie die Bündelung zu ungefähr gleich schweren Sets. Es ist aber weiterhin umstritten, ob die Umwicklungen Gewichtskorrekturen waren.55 Die erwähnte Bündelung ist nicht regelhaft nachgewiesen, ebenso die teils auftretende Verdoppelung der ungefähren Standardwerte der Ringgewichte.56 Eine Konzentration der Gewichtswerte der Ösenringe in bestimmten Bereichen ist offensichtlich, diese

Tabelle 1 Konzentration, Mittelwert und Standardabweichung zu den Durchmessern der Ösenringe nach Regionen.

Konzentrationen muss aber nicht auf „gewichtsbezogene Werteinheiten“ zurückgeführt werden.57

Durchmesser Analysiert man den Durchmesser der Ösenringe, und damit die größte Entfernung zwischen zwei sich ungefähr parallel zur Öffnung gegenüberliegenden Punkten auf der Ringaußenseite (vgl. Abb. 1), so erhält man Ergebnisse, die in ihrer Qualität mit denen Lenerz-de Wildes für die Gewichte vergleichbar sind.58 Die Werte konzentrieren sich ansatzweise normalverteilt um bestimmte Messwerte. Je nach Region schwankt die genaue Ausprägung der Merkmale (vgl. Tab. 1; Abb. 2-4). Untereinander ähneln sich die Histogramme. Lediglich die regionalspezifischen Werte der Ringe aus Hortfunden Mährens und Polens

Lenerz-de Wilde 1995 Lenerz-de Wilde 1995, 238, 292 Tab. 7 55 Moucha 2005, 29-31; Mansel 2010, 216 56 Zu den Bündeln ähnlicher Schwere Winghart 1990, 44; zur Dopplung der Gewichte z. B. Neugebauer 2002, 38. 53 54

Für diese Werteinheiten plädiert Lenerz-de Wilde 2011, 193. Alle Daten stammen aus der in Arbeit befindlichen Dissertation und werden nach Abschluss dort nachzulesen sein. 57 58

59

Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World

Abbildung 3 Histogramm der Durchmesser niederösterreichischer und burgenländischer Barrenringe in 0,5 cm Schritten.

Abbildung 4 Histogramm der Durchmesser polnischer Ösenringe in 0,5 cm Schritten.

sowie überregional die der Ringe aus Gräbern weichen von dem Muster ab. Das Histogramm der Ringe aus Polen (Abb. 4) weist eine weite Streuung und mehrere Peaks auf, die jedoch in ihrer Ausprägung nie an die Hauptkonzentration um 16 cm heranreichen. Allenfalls eine entfernte Ähnlichkeit kann zum Histogramm der Durchmesser der Ringe aus Gräbern (Abb. 5) erahnt werden. Dieses zeigt ein breites Spektrum zwischen 10,5 und 20,5 cm. Innerhalb dieses Intervalls gibt es eine relativ gleichmäßige Verteilung mit einzelnen Spitzen. Neben der graphischen Darstellung verdeutlichen ebenso Mittelwert und Standardabweichung, dass die Ösenringe aus Gräbern von jenen aus den Horten zu trennen sind. Man kann diese Argumente noch mit den bei Lenerz-de Wilde genannten Erkenntnissen zu den Gewichtsunterschieden und R. Krauses Ergebnissen zu den unterschiedlichen Materialsorten ergänzen.59

Die gezeigten Verteilungen können so gedeutet werden, dass bei den Ösenringen aus Horten ein bestimmter Durchmesser beabsichtigt war, der heute etwa 16 cm entspricht. Im Gegensatz dazu waren persönliche Objekte wie die Ösenhalsringe aus Gräbern nicht einer solchen Standardisierung unterworfen, sondern den persönlichen Bedürfnissen, wie beispielsweise Halsumfang oder Statur, angepasst. Die mährischen und mehr noch die polnischen Ringe aus Horten zeigen, verglichen mit den anderen Regionen, ein uneinheitliches Bild. Womit dies zu begründen ist, bleibt vorerst offen. Möglicherweise wurden die Ringe aus anderen Distributionssystemen bezogen, Befunde falsch als Horte angesprochen oder die dortigen Deponierungen stehen, was durch die an persönliche Ausstattungen erinnernden Ensembles bereits angedeutet wird, in einer engen Verbindung mit konkreten Personen und die Ringe entsprechen zum Teil jenen aus Gräbern.60 Zur Ähnlichkeit mancher Horte mit Gräbern z. B. Hansen 2002; Vergleichbar die Horte als Selbstausstattung oder Totenschatz in der 60

59

Lenerz-de Wilde 1995, 267-9; Krause 2003, 114-16

60

M. Hensler, Der Wert des Kupfers

Abbildung 5 Histogramm der Durchmesser von Ösenringen aus Gräbern.

Weitere Maße und Eigenschaften

der Ösenringe mit Bedeutung geführt haben.62 Im Verlauf der Frühbronzezeit kann sich diese Wertschätzung von den Personen gelöst haben und mehr oder weniger unabhängig von diesen zu einer Wertschätzung der Ösenringe geworden sein. Schließlich wurden die Verbindungen zu den Personen und den Ursprüngen als Halsringen womöglich vollständig getrennt und die ehemalige Form verlor sich. Durch die gezielte Reproduktion formaler Eigenschaften etablierte sich ein bestimmtes Gewicht, das allenfalls Grundlage, doch nicht Ausdruck für ein Gewichtssystem war. C. Renfrew beschreibt die an solchen Entwicklungen beteiligten Objekte mit dem Ausdruck constitutive symbols und verbindet diese mit den, die Gesellschaft organisierenden, institutional facts.63 Dabei handelt es sich um Konzepte wie Ehe und Eigentum, die Einfluss auf das Leben der Menschen haben. Ösenringe könnten als konstitutives Symbol der Ursprung für ein Wert- und später Gewichtssystem gewesen sein, nicht Resultat dessen Anwendung. Das wechselseitige Verhältnis von Konsument und Gegenstand, die Repräsentation einer personengebundenen Rolle durch die Ringe, deren symbolische Aufladung durch die Konsumenten und deren Zuschauer, die selbstständige Vermittlung des aufgeladenen Wertes und schließlich die gänzliche Loslösung von der Person und der ursprünglichen Form könnten Grundlagen eines solchen überregionalen Systems gewesen sein. Der Wert würde dabei anfangs nicht auf dem Materialwert beruht haben, sondern rein auf der Zuschreibung von Wert, wobei die Verwendung eines besonderen Materials diesen Prozess sicher begünstigt hätte. Die Zuschreibung war allen Anscheins nach an die Form der Ringe gekoppelt. Wichtig wäre nicht primär die Menge des verwendeten Kupfers, sondern die Verbindung zu dem Konzept hinter dem Symbol gewesen. Neben der Form könnte das

Neben dem Durchmesser gehören weitere Eigenschaften zur Form der Ösenringe. Beispielsweise sind die Höhe, als entsprechende Größe senkrecht zum Durchmesser, die Ösenenden und die Formen des Stabquerschnitts zu nennen. Wichtig ist sicherlich ebenso die Materialzusammensetzung, denn sie ist es, die direkte Auswirkungen auf Farbe, Haltbarkeit und technische Eigenschaften hat. Zusätzlich kann die Zusammensetzung Hinweise auf das oder die Ursprungsgebiete der Ringe liefern. Bisher können zu diesen Punkten leider noch keine Ergebnisse vorgestellt werden.

Überlegungen zum Wert Es konnte gezeigt werden, dass die Menge an Kupfer nicht die einzige regelhafte Eigenschaft der Ösenringe ist. Mindestens ein formales Merkmal war ebenso standardisiert. Aufgrund der Häufung der Messwerte kann vermutet werden, dass der Durchmesser eine Rolle bei der Konsumentscheidung spielte und somit ein Teil der Wertgrundlage war. Möglicherweise resultierte das standardisierte Gewicht nicht aus einem Gewichtsystem, sondern aus der Form des Gegenstandes. Der kommunikative Aspekt des Konsums der Ösenringe kann zu dieser Kombination geführt haben. Häufig wird die Kette Ösenhalsring – Ösenringbarren – Spangenbarren als typologische Abfolge vorgestellt.61 Spangenbarren sind Kupferstangen mit einer leichten Biegung, denen den Ösenringbarren vergleichbare Funktionen zugesprochen werden. Folgt man diesem Modell, so kann das Tragen von Ösenringen durch bestimmte Personen, zu einer Aufladung

Hierzu bereits erwähnt Novotná, 1981, 125. Renfrew 2001a, 130; Renfrew 2001b, 97-9; Renfrew bezieht sich dabei auf Searle 1995. 62

jüngeren Bronzezeit bei Hundt 1955, 123. 61 Z. B. Lenerz-de Wilde 1995, 288.

63

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World Arbeits- und Forschungsberichte zur Sächsische Bodendenkmalpflege 1, 40-5. Douglas, M. and B. Isherwood 1996. The World of Goods. Towards an Anthropology of Consumption. London and New York, Routledge. Eckel, F. 1992. Studien zur Form- und Materialtypologie von Spangenbarren und Ösenringbarren. Zugleich ein Beitrag zur Frage der Relation zwischen Kupferlagerstätten, Halbzeugproduktion und Fertigwarenhandel. Saarbrücker Beiträge zur Altertumskunde 54. Bonn, Habelt. Eggert, M. K. H. 2003. Das Materielle und das Immaterielle: Über archäologische Erkenntnis. In U. Veit, T. L. Kienlin, Ch. Kümmel and S. Schmidt (eds), Spuren und Botschaften: Interpretationen materieller Kultur. Tübinger Archäologische Taschenbücher 4, 423-61. Münster, New York, München and Berlin, Waxmann. Endrigkeit, A. 2010. Bronzezeitliche Depotfunde in Schleswig-Holstein. Eine kulturhistorische Studie. Universitätsforschungen zur prähistorischen Archäologie 178. Bonn, Habelt. Einzig, P. 1949. Primitive Money in its Ethnological, Historical and Economic Aspects. London, Eyre & Spottiswoode. Fontijn, D. R. 2002. Sacrificial Landscapes. Cultural Biographies of Persons, Objects and “Natural“ Places in the Bronze Age of the Southern Netherlands, c. 2300-600 BC. Analecta praehistorica Leidensia 33/34. Leiden, University Institute for Prehistory. Fontijn, D. R. 2008. ‘Traders‘ “hoards“’ Reviewing the relationship between trade and permanent deposition: the case of the Dutch Voorhout hoard. In C. Hamon and B. Quilliec (eds), Hoards from the Neolithic to the Metal Ages. Technical and codified Practices ; session of the XIth annual meeting of the European Association of Archaeologists. British Archaeological Reports. Int. Series 1758, 5-17. Oxford, BAR Publishing. Foxhall, L. 1998. Cargoes of the heart’s desire: the character of trade in the archaic mediterranean world. In N. Fisher and H. van Wees (eds), Archaic Greece: New Approaches and New Evidence, 295-309. London, Duckworth. Hahn, H. P. 2005. Materielle Kultur. Eine Einführung. Berlin, Reimer Verlag. Hansen, S. 2002. „Überausstattungen“ in Gräbern und Horten der Frühbronzezeit. In J. Müller (ed.), Vom Endneolithikum zur Frühbronzezeit: Muster sozialen Wandels? Tagung Bamberg 14. - 16. Juni 2001 aus der Professur für Vor- und Frühgeschichte der Universität Bamberg. Universitätsforschungen zur prähistorischen Archäologie 90, 151-173. Bonn, Habelt. Hänsel, B. 1997. Gaben an die Götter - Schätze der Bronzezeit Europas - eine Einführung. In A. Hänsel and B. Hänsel, Gaben an die Götter. Schätze der Bronzezeit Europas; Ausstellung 1997, 11-22. Berlin, Preußischer Kulturbesitz.

Material mit einer weiteren Wertzuschreibung versehen gewesen sein, zumindest würde dies die bevorzugte Verwendung bestimmter Kupfersorten erklären. Wertvoll waren dabei eventuell die durch Farben, Glanz oder sonstiges vermittelten Informationen. Diese können Ausdruck von Distributionssystemen, der Demonstration der Teilhabe an solchen Verteilungsnetzwerken oder der Verbindung mit einem realen oder gedachten Ursprung gewesen sein. Tragen, Nutzen, Verteilen und Deponieren von Ösenringen waren womöglich kommunikative Akte, die dem wissenden Betrachter solche Informationen über den Konsumenten vermittelten. An den unterschiedlichen Nutzungsmustern der Ösenringe, bezogen auf die verschiedenen Arten der Ringe und auf die regionalen Unterschiede, erkennt man, dass Bedeutung und Wert situationsabhängig und wandelbar waren. Je nach Ort und Situation konnten die Ringe unterschiedliche Aufladungen besitzen. Ein flexibles Wertkonzept ermöglicht es dabei viel besser auf das heterogene Fundbild der Ösenringe einzugehen. Es zeigt sich, dass die Reduktion von Wert auf einen einzigen Aspekt wie Gewicht nicht angebracht ist. Eine Kombination von verschiedenen Komponenten ergab den Wert eines Gegenstandes. Dem hier präsentierten Ansatz folgend, sind weitere mögliche Kriterien als solche zu identifizieren und zu untersuchen. Darauf aufbauend soll ein neues Modell zur Distribution und Konsumption von Kupfer am Beispiel der Ösenringe in die Forschungsdiskussion eingeführt werden.64

Bibliographie Ballmer, A. 2010. Zur Topologie des bronzezeitlichen Deponierens. Von der Handlungstheorie zur Raumanalyse. Prähistorische Zeitschrift 85, 120-31. Bosch, A. 2010. Konsum und Exklusion. Eine Kultursoziologie der Dinge. Bielefeld, transcriptVerlag. Bradley, R. 1990. The Passage of Arms: an Archaeological Analysis of Prehistoric Hoards and Votive Deposits. 2nd Edition. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. von Brunn, W. A. 1947. Die Schatzfunde der Bronzezeit als wirtschaftsgeschichtliche Quelle. Forschungen und Fortschritte 21-23, 257-60. Butler, J. J. 2003. Ingots and insights: reflections on rings and ribs. In M. Bartelheim, E. Pernicka und R. Krause (eds), Die Anfänge der Metallurgie in der Alten Welt. Forschungen zur Archäometrie und Altertumswissenschaft 1, 229-43. Rahden/Westfalen, Verlag Marie Leidorf. Coblenz, W. 1951. Ein Depotfund der ältesten Bronzezeit von Niederneundorf bei Görlitz. Hensler, in Vorbereitung. Dissertation mit dem Arbeitstitel „Kupferdistibutionssysteme (Metallurgieketten) in Alpen und Westkarpaten“. 64

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M. Hensler, Der Wert des Kupfers Hänsel, A. and B. Hänsel. 1997. Gaben an die Götter. Schätze der Bronzezeit Europas; Ausstellung 1997. Berlin, Preußischer Kulturbesitz. Hensler, M. In Vorbereitung. Dissertation. Hundt, H.-J. 1955. Versuch zur Deutung der Depotfunde der nordischen jüngeren Bronzezeit unter besonderer Berücksichtigung Mecklenburgs. Jahrbuch des Römisch-Germanischen Zentralmuseum Mainz 2, 95140. Junk, M. 2003. Material Properties of Copper Alloys containing Arsenic, Antimony, and Bismuth. The Material of Early Bronze Age Ingot Torques. http://nbn-resolving.de/urn:nbn:de:swb:105-1299566 Stand [14.03.2013]. Klose, O. 1931. Die zeitliche Stellung des prähistorischen Kupferbergbaues in den Ostalpen. Mitteilungen der Anthropologischen Gesellschaft in Wien 61, 137-55. Kopytoff, I. 1986. The cultural biography of things: commoditization as process. In A. Appadurai (ed.), The Social Life of Things. Commodities in Cultural Perspective, 64-91. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press.
 Krause, R. 2003. Studien zur kupfer- und frühbronzezeitlichen Metallurgie zwischen Karpatenbecken und Ostsee. Vorgeschichtliche Forschungen 24. Rahden/ Westfalen, Verlag Marie Leidorf. Krenn-Leeb, A. 2008. Strategie und Strategem: Überlegungen zu Tradition, Innovation und Legitimation anhand der frühbronzezeitlichen Depotfunde in Österreich. In K. Schmotz (ed.), Vorträge des 26. Niederbayerischen Archäologentages, 163-96. Rahden/Westfalen, Marie Leidorf. Krenn-Leeb, A. 2010. Ressource versus Ritual Deponierungsstrategien der Frühbronzezeit in Österreich. In H. Meller (ed.), Der Griff nach den Sternen. Wie Europas Eliten zu Macht und Reichtum kamen. Internationales Symposium Halle (Saale), 16.21. Februar 2005. Tagungen des Landesmuseum für Vorgeschichte Halle 5, 281-329. Halle/Saale, SachsenAnhalt, Landesmuseum für Denkmalpflege und Archäologie. Lenerz-de Wilde, M. 1995. Prämonetäre Zahlungsmittel in der Kupfer- und Bronzezeit Mitteleuropas. Fundberichte aus Baden-Württemberg 20, 229-329. Lenerz-de Wilde, M. 2002, Bronzezeitliche Zahlungsmittel. Mitteilungen der Anthropologischen Gesellschaft in Wien 132, 1-23. Lenerz-de Wilde, M. 2011. Neue Ringbarrenhorte Bronzen als Wertträger (Prämonetäre Zahlungsmittel). In U. L. Dietz und A. Jockenhövel (eds), Bronzen im Spannungsfeld zwischen praktischer Nutzung und symbolischer Bedeutung. Beiträge zum internationalen Kolloquium am 9. und 10. Oktober 2008 in Münster. Prähistorische Bronzefunde XX 13, 177-98. Stuttgart, Steiner. Mansel, K. 2010. Ösenringbarren. Das Rätsel des Kupferdepots. In R. Gebhard (ed.), Archäologische Staatssammlung München. Glanzstücke des Museums, 126-7. Berlin and München, Deutscher Kunstverlag.

Menke, M. 1982. Studien zu den frühbronzezeitlichen Metalldepots Bayerns. Jahresbericht der bayerischen Bodendenkmalpflege 19/20, 5-305. Mitscha-Märheim, H. 1929. Zur älteren Bronzezeit Niederösterreichs. Mitteilungen der Anthropologischen Gesellschaft in Wien 59, 181-94. Moucha, V. 2005. Hortfunde der frühen Bronzezeit in Böhmen. Prag, Archeologický ústav AV ČR. Neugebauer, J.-W. 2002. Die Metalldepots der Unterwölbinger Kulturgruppe Ragelsdorf 2 und Unterradlberg 1 und 2. Überlegungen zum prämonetären Charakter der niedergelegten Wertgegenstände. Mitteilungen der Anthropologischen Gesellschaft in Wien 132, 25-40. Neugebauer, Ch. and J.-W. Neugebauer, J.-W. 1997. Franzhausen : das frühbronzezeitliche Gräberfeld I. 1. Materialvorlage, Textteil. Fundberichte aus Österreich. Materialhefte A 5,1. Horn, Berger. Novotná, M. 1981. Zur Stellung und Funktion einiger Typen der Bronzeindustrie in der älteren Bronzezeit. Slovenská Archeológia 29, 121-9. Novotná, M. 1984. Halsringe und Diademe in der Slowakei. Prähistorische Bronzefunde XI 4. München, Beck. Rassmann, K. 2011. Metallverbrauch in der frühen Bronzezeit Mitteleuropas – Produktion, Zirkulation und Konsumption frühbronzezeitlicher Metallobjekte als Untersuchungsgegenstände einer archäologischen Wirtschaftsgeschichte. In J. Müller and S. Hansen (eds), Sozialarchäologische Perspektiven. Gesellschaftlicher Wandel 5000–1500 v. Chr. zwischen Atlantik und Kaukasus. Archäologie in Eurasien 24, 341-63. Darmstadt, von Zabern. Reinecke, P. 1930. Die Bedeutung der Kupferbergwerke der Ostalpen für die Bronzezeit Mitteleuropas. In Schumacher-Festschrift. Zum 70. Geburtstag Karl Schumachers – 14. Oktober 1930, 107-15. Mainz, Wilckens. Renfrew, C. 2001a. Symbol before concept: material. In I. Hodder (ed.), Archaeological Theory Today, 122-40. Cambridge, Polity Press. Renfrew, C. 2001b. Commodification and institution in group-oriented and individualizing societies. In W. G. Runciman (ed.), The Origin of Human Social Institutions. Proceedings of the British Academy 110, 93-117. Oxford, Oxford University Press. Searle, J. R. 1995. The Construction of Social Reality. London, Allen Lane. Sommerfeld, Ch. 1994. Gerätegeld Sichel. Studien zur monetären Struktur bronzezeitlicher Horte im nördlichen Mitteleuropa. Vorgeschichtliche Forschungen 19. Berlin and New York, de Gruyter. Stein, F. 1976. Bronzezeitliche Hortfunde in Süddeutschland. Saarbrücker Beiträge zur Altertumskunde 23. Bonn, Habelt. Ţârlea, A. 2008. The concept of “selective deposition”. Peuce Serie Nouă 6, 63-132. Tihelka, K. 1965. Hort- und Einzelfunde der Úněticer Kultur und des Věteřover Typus in Mähren. Mit einem

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World Beitrag von L. Págo „Zur Frage der Benutzung von Spektralanalysen für die Bewertung vorgeschichtlicher kupferner und bronzener Gegenstände“. Fontes archaeologiae Moraviae 4. Brno, Archeologický ústav CSAV. Vachta, T. 2008. Studien zu den bronzezeitlichen Hortfunden des oberen Theissgebietes. Universitätsforschungen zur prähistorischen Archäologie 159. Bonn, Habelt. Vandkilde, H. 2005. A biographical perspective on Ösenringe from the Early Bronze Age. In T. L. Kienlin (ed.), Die Dinge als Zeichen. Kulturelles Wissen und materielle Kultur. Internationale Fachtagung Johannes Wolfgang Goethe-Universität Frankfurt am Main 3. – 5. April 2003. Universitätsforschungen zur prähistorischen Archäologie 127, 263-80. Bonn, Habelt. Winghart, St. 1990. Ein frühbronzezeitliches Ösenringdepot von Grub, Gemeinde Valley, Landkreis Miesbach, Oberbayern. Das Archäologische Jahr in Bayern, 42-4. Wiswede, G. 2000. Konsumsoziologie - Eine vergessene Disziplin. In D. Rosenkranz and N. F. Schneider (eds), Konsum. Soziologische, ökonomische und psychologische Perspektiven, 23-72. Opladen, Leske und Budrich. Znoj, H. 1995. Tausch und Geld in Zentralsumatra. Zur Kritik des Schuldbegriffes in der Wirtschaftsethnologie. Berner Sumatra-Forschungen. Berlin, Reimer Verlag.

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Heavy metal in hallowed contexts Continuity and change in aes deposits in Central Italy and Sicily Andreas M. Murgan

Amongst the numerous finds from the middle and second half of the first millennium BC discovered in sacred contexts in Central Italy and Sicily, the uncoined metal (mainly known as aes rude and aes signatum) found in temples and graves is relatively understudied. Through their archaeological contexts, these pieces can reveal practical and theoretical aspects surrounding cult practices. This article uses comparatively well published examples of such metal finds, in conjunction with other historical sources, to consider the religious deposition of these objects, which has a long tradition in this region that continued throughout the period of Roman expansion and lasted until at least the late Republic. This raises questions about the purposes of this material across time, space (Italy or Sicily), place (temples or graves), and continuity and change in ritual behaviour. Learning more about the aim, function and the embodied value(s) of aes in sacred contexts can lead to a better understanding of its use as a votive, sacrifice, or gift to the deceased. deposition, dedication, pre-monetary metal, coins, context, sanctuary

Das hauptsächlich unter den Begriffen Aes rude und signatum bekannte ungemünzte Metall stellt unter den zahlreichen Funden, die aus der Mitte und der zweiten Hälfte des ersten Jahrtausends v. Chr. aus sakralem Kontext in Mittelitalien und Sizilien stammen, eine relativ unerforschte Materialgattung dar. Ihre archäologischen Befunde, Heiligtümer und Gräber, tragen jedoch Informationen, die sowohl theoretische als auch praktische Aspekte antiker Kultpraktiken näher beleuchten können. In Verbindung mit anderen Quellen soll anhand von verhältnismäßig gut publizierten Beispielen die religiös motivierte Niederlegung dieses Materials untersucht werden, welche auf eine lange Tradition zurückgeht und sich über die Periode der römischen Expansion hinweg bis mindestens in die späte Republik zurückverfolgen lässt. Es werfen sich Fragen auf nach der Bedeutung dieses Materials im Lauf der Zeit an verschiedenen Orten in unterschiedlichen Kontexten, sowie nach Kontinuität und Wandel in den vollzogenen rituellen Handlungen. Eine verbesserte Kenntnis der Zwecke, Funktionen und enthaltenen Werte von Aes in sakralen Kontexten ermöglicht ein tieferes Verständnis für den Gebrauch als Votiv, Opfer oder Geschenk für die Toten. Deponierung, Weihung, vormünzliches Metall, Münzen, Kontext, Heiligtum

Introduction: defining the sacred

monumental structures, cultic deposits are also found at exceptional natural locations like wells, rivers, groves, mountains or caves. Cultic activity also took place at graves, an environment of transition from the sphere of the living to the sphere of the dead. These different types of ‘sacred’ place will be considered throughout this paper.

In the Graeco-Roman period, the sacred had a greater importance than it has in the modern western world, and life was loaded with mythical meanings.1 The sacred or hallowed sphere was entangled with daily life and permeated ancient landscapes. The omnipresence of religion meant that people used cultic activity to attempt to influence situations they could not otherwise control. To modern eyes, the most visible places for these ritual activities are sanctuaries. But in addition to built,

Due to the entanglement of the sacred and the profane sphere, the term ‘hallowed context’ is not easy to define. In many cases it is difficult to discern sacred contexts from the non-sacred. Besides obvious examples like a sanctuary or a grave, one cannot be sure that the classification of a context as ‘profane’ corresponds with the ancient reality. In addition, we should not forget that ‘obviously’ sacral contexts could also supply profane needs. For example, temples could also serve as treasury buildings, holding the thesaurus, whose purpose was the collection of money

The research for this article comes from the broader Lichtenberg research project, ‘Coinage and the Dynamics of Power: the Western Mediterranean 500-100 BC’, funded by the VolkswagenStiftung. I wish to thank the project leader, Prof. Dr. Fleur Kemmers, for her encouragement and comments. Furthermore, I want to thank Dr. Clare Rowan, who enhanced this article with advice and improved my English. 1

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World that could be used, for example, for the maintenance of the sanctuary.2 A well-known example is the temple of Saturn in the forum romanum where the aerarium, the treasury of Rome, was situated.3 In this case value was held under divine protection, but it never belonged to the deity. The situation becomes further complicated when we consider the fact that in the period concerned Central Italy was inhabited by a variety of different peoples and tribes (e.g. Etruscans, Latins, Umbri, Osci), all with their own particular languages, traditions and rituals. In general, valuable items or objects loaded with meaning were used as votive offerings in the region concerned. The former were defined by their intrinsic value or high quality, for instance objects made of silver like jewellery or coins. The latter could bear a particular relevance that linked the donor with a targeted mythical entity, like the terracotta figurines made from models produced in vast quantities – for others such objects might appear both worthless and meaningless.

Figure 1 Piece of aes rude © Trustees of the British Museum.

Different occasions demanded different types of donation. Some objects were suitable only in a very specific context (for example, when votives were marked with the name of the receiving deity, or figurines depicted a particular god), while others could be used more universally (e.g. perishable material like wine or consumable offerings). One of the primary attributes of money is its generalpurpose usability, so it is little wonder that coins are found as offerings in a variety of contexts, for example in sanctuaries, graves, and other deposits.

Figure 2 Round ingot © Trustees of the British Museum.

The focus of this article is a group of metal objects that are classically interpreted as an early form of money. The socalled aes rude, aes signatum and aes grave consist of pieces of copper, tin, lead and iron in differing alloys and with different purity. They are, from a chemical point of view, pieces of ‘heavy metal’ that have an intrinsic value because of their metal content. The term aes rude encompasses chunks, lumps and ingots of cast copper and bronze, objects that were chopped to different weights as and when required (Figures 1 and 2). Since they lack a standardised form or weight, it is believed that in transactions these objects were measured and valued through weighing with a set of scales. The term aes signatum has been used to describe bronze bars that bear signs on one or both sides. It is a confusing term that derives more from the history of modern research than any ancient reality, and should not be used furthermore.4 Instead this work uses the terms cast or bronze bars, which are a more accurate reflection of the nature of the material. Earlier bronze bars are marked with a so-called ramo secco pattern, meaning ‘withered branch’ (Figure 3). Later bars bear different pictures like animals or tools (Figures 4 and 5). These bars have a standardised form but still differ in weight and are often chopped. The

Figure 3 Ramo secco bar © Trustees of the British Museum.

term aes grave is used for the heavy cast bronze coins of Rome (Figure 6), which have a standardised form and weight. This article will focus on how all these objects were used in sacred or hallowed contexts throughout time and space. For this investigation, several examples from clearly sacral contexts in Sicily and Italy are given in order to illustrate how these items were used in pits, sanctuaries and graves. Unfortunately one is confined to the well-published cases; many other finds of this material still await proper publication. The examples demonstrate the specific role these objects had outside of everyday

Crawford 2003, 70-1, 76-80 Nawracala 2011, 45 4 Crawford 2009 2 3

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A. M. Murgan, Heavy metal in hallowed contexts

Figure 6 Aes grave coin with Janus head and prow © Trustees of the British Museum.

Figure 4 Cast bronze bar with elephant and sow © Trustees of the British Museum.

Figure 7 Places mentioned in the text.

clear stratigraphy provides one of the very few possibilities to date the use of aes rude and cast bars, while providing some insight into the processes of deposition. Initial archaeological fieldwork was undertaken in 1901 by Paolo Orsi,5 followed by excavations led by Piero Orlandini in the 1960s.6 In 19917 and 19948, two further campaigns took place. The resulting preliminary reports from these excavations are the basis for the following discussion. The assignment of the sanctuary to Demeter is based on the graffiti found on the ceramics that had been dedicated.9

Figure 5 Cast bronze bar with anchor and tripod © Trustees of the British Museum.

transactions, their ability to travel between the sacred and profane spheres, and how their associations and value changed according to context.

Orlandini identified five layers in the sanctuary that were stratigraphically well-distinguished.10 Layer one, on top,

The votive pits from the sanctuary of Bitalemi, Gela (Sicily)

Orsi 1907 Orlandini 1966; Orlandini 1967 7 Fiorentini 1993-1994, 721 8 Orlandini 2003 9 See most recently Verger 2011, 17. 10 Orlandini 1966, 11-17 5

Opposite the ancient city of Gela, across from the river of the same name, lie the ruins of the extramural thesmophorion of Demeter, which is situated on a sandy hill at the estuary mouth. The sanctuary of Bitalemi is important because its

6

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World was medieval and contained a small chapel dedicated to Virgin Mary of Bethlehem, built in the 13th century and in use until modern times. Connected to the small church was a medieval cemetery. Layer two was a sterile sand stratum, which documents an interruption in the use of this area. Layer three is split by a sterile sand stratum into two substrata, both of which had evidence of Roman farming activity. One farm is dated to the 3rd and 4th centuries AD, the other to the Augustan period. Layer four contained the architectural remains of the Greek sanctuary, which was erected in the middle of the 6th century BC during extensive readjustments to the cult area. A destruction at the end of the 5th century BC, generally connected with the sack of Gela by the Carthaginians in 405 BC, forms the end of the use of the sanctuary, and finds from the 4th and 3rd century BC are scarce. Because the whole hill consisted of sand, an argillaceous stratum was brought in from elsewhere to serve as foundation for the Greek sanctuary complex. This layer separates the upper strata from the first phase of the sanctuary.

were locally produced, some were imitations of imported pottery, and some were actually imported from Corinth, Rhodes or Ionia; one figurine even comes from Crete. Numerous loom weights complete the inventory of clay material objects. Interestingly, the objects were often laid down or stuck into the sand head first, perhaps as a reflection of the chthonic character of the goddess. The few vessels in an upright position may thus have contained sacrificial liquids like oil or wine – one example was filled with pebbles. Amongst these finds, Orlandini’s team also uncovered metal objects. From the bed of the stratum came iron knives which were associated with pots and the bones of small animals and traces of fire, and can therefore be interpreted as sacrificial knives. From the middle of the 6th century BC comes a set of agricultural tools (a pick, a scythe and two plough blades).14 Of these votive deposits, 31 are of special interest here. In 1967 Orlandini published them under the title ‘Depositi votivi di bronzo premonetale’,15 a label which already offers a clear interpretation of the material. In total approximately 102kg of bronze was buried, with the total weight per deposit ranging from 350 to 7095g, with one lonely peak at 11,700g. The most common group of objects within these deposits are aes rude, with individual pieces weighing between 5 and 3300g. Two pieces, in deposits 15 and 23, bore engraved letters or signs whose meaning is unknown. Another group is formed by a multitude of different twisted and fragmented bronze sheets and plates, the remains of different objects like bowls or phiales. Some of these were originally decorated, for example with dots. Different types of tools were also found in a fragmentary condition: equipment for metalworking like melting pots and moulds, devices for cutting like axes and knives, and a variety of other instruments like graters and broken bits of objects like handles. A final group is formed by jewellery, consisting of rings, bracelets, pearls and fibulae.

In layer five, the area appears to be a ritual place without stone architecture. Nevertheless, the base of the small building G8 (5.65m x 4.40m) could be detected, which was made of mud bricks that were positioned directly onto the sand.11 This was dated to the very beginning of the 6th century BC. About 15m to the north-east a second wall was detected, built in the same manner, but further information could not be obtained. Due to the oddness of the remains and their unusual orientation, Orlandini dismissed a sacellum as a possible function, and instead proposed the existence of other temporary buildings, skenai, which were constructed during feasts. Uta Kron disagreed with this interpretation and argued that the structures were permanent and at least had utilitarian functions, if not used as thesauroi or oikoi.12 In 2003, Orlandini returned to this point, and agreed with Kron’s interpretation.13 But apart from this building, the character of the early sanctuary was roofless: the whole layer consisted of votive deposits that were precisely placed into the sand. The deposits were found at different heights within the layer, which on average is 1m thick. These different positions within the stratum illustrate the relative chronology of the objects. The careful method of placement indicates separate, individual burials, not the purge of an overfilled sanctuary in a classical bothros. Based on the stratigraphy and datable material like pottery, it is clear that the deposits belong to the 7th and 6th centuries BC, starting in the middle of the 7th century BC and continuing until the middle of the 6th century BC in the upper part of the stratum. Dedicated ceramics had a variety of forms and functions (e.g. skyphoi, kalykes, stamnoi, hydriai, amphorai, alabastra and other unguentaria, as well as pinakes), and terracotta lamps and votive figurines were also found. Some of these

Two of the cast ingots repay further discussion. The first derives from deposit 26 and was buried with 72 pieces of aes rude, as well as fragmented metal sheets and tools like needles or the remains of knives. On both sides of the ingot, which weighs 425g, a ramo secco sign is visible. The second example comes from deposit seven and also has a sign on both sides, but here the image is not as clear. However, it is likely also to be a ramo secco pattern. According to the stratigraphy of the site, both deposits have been dated to the period 570-540 BC. With this, a terminus ante quem for the appearance of ramo secco can be established.

11

Orlandini 1967, 178 Kron 1992, 620-3 13 Orlandini 2003, 510

14

12

15

The type, size and arrangement of the deposits reveal some aspects of the ritual performed. Many of the deposited items are well-suited as dedications to Demeter, a female deity with a chthonic character and associated with fertility.16 Orlandini 1966, 23-9 Orlandini 1965-1967 16 Kron 1992, 623; Verger 2011, 17-9

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A. M. Murgan, Heavy metal in hallowed contexts As demonstrated by the inscriptions on the ceramics, the ritual activities at the site included thesmophoriai, feasts that were largely performed by women. This, in addition to the feminine character of many of the dedications (e.g. the jewellery), has led to the suggestion that the sanctuary was only frequented by women.17 But this assumes that the sanctuary was used only for the thesmophoriai, or that the female character of the ritual was strictly enforced in the area. Furthermore, it does not explain the presence of tools that are not associated directly with the female sphere, like the metal working equipment. One also cannot exclude the idea that a male could dedicate ‘feminine’ objects to a female deity. Although the thesmophorion was likely not important outside the region, the traceable contact sphere provided by the dedicated objects is impressively wideranging. In addition to local products, objects came from both east and west, spreading from France to the eastern areas of the Black Sea.18 The objects may thus have passed through many hands before reaching the sanctuary, and the identity of the final owner is difficult to reconstruct. The problems with interpreting the gender of the dedicator led Kron to suggest that we look not for the person dedicating the object, but for the reason behind the dedication. Independent of the dedicator’s gender, Kron argued that a sacrifice might have been paid for and benefitted the whole family.19 If Kron is correct, we might see families as having an active role behind the visible dedications in the sanctuary. This idea, one not often considered in modern scholarship, could equally apply to other groups like trade guilds or military units, with an individual acting as a representative. But the individuals or groups behind these dedications remain difficult to reconstruct.

3. Other donations might have been chosen because they combined both the above attributes, i.e. intrinsic and extrinsically generated value. These were objects made out of valuable materials that also had additional meanings or significance for the cult (e.g. the agricultural tools, which are connected with fecundity), or valuable objects whose individual history connected the giver with the gift (e.g. objects of bronze, which became fragmented during the ritual process, but which still had an intrinsic value). Thus intrinsic or extrinsic value, or both, played an important role in the votive selection process. Analyses done by Verger on the composition of the different deposits demonstrate that there was no overall framework beyond personal preference when choosing which object to dedicate.20 Items from different regions of the ancient world in different states of use (e.g. broken or whole) were used in a similar manner. The use of objects with both intrinsic and extrinsic value is also seen in Rome, our next example. Votive pits in Rome One of the characteristics of early cult in Rome was the use of votive pits, seen in a series of finds. The first example derives from the Quirinal, where a votive pit was found in 1878 at the church of S. Maria della Vittoria. The first report on the find was written by de Rossi, who compared different features from the Quirinal, Viminal and Esquiline Hills.21 This publication was supplemented in the 1960s by Gjerstad with more detail and an overview of the finds.22 The pit measured around 3m in diameter and the embankments were revetted by rubblework walls of roughly dressed tufa blocks. The contents of the pit included a large amount of pottery, the only finds which have survived until the present day. Gjerstad lists impasto ware, bucchero, Italo-Protocorinthian and Italo-Corinthian vases, red slip, plain white, black glazed and coarse ware. In the great majority of cases, the pieces are intact or could be restored. Furthermore, objects of terracotta (e.g. beads or spindle-whorls, discs that are interpreted as votive cakes or libation tablets, a figurine), some pieces of bone (perhaps part of a pyxis) and iron (spear-heads and other undetermined objects, although these are rare as at Bitalemi) and a large number of bronzes were reported, but these have since been dispersed. The traces of ash and bones of animals reflecting ritual sacrifices have also not survived until the present day. The bronze objects can be split into groups of jewellery (fibulae, earrings, circlets), tools (e.g. handles, vessels, a shield boss), sheets from fragmented objects like bowls, and various unidentified

The example of Bitalemi demonstrates that material traditionally considered as pre-monetary was deposited with objects and tools that are normally not classified as items that embody or store value. But while the latter objects might be connected to sacrifices concerning fertility and the female sphere, the pre-monetary material does not fit into the picture so easily. These objects have no obvious connection to the cult of Demeter, nor are they valuable from a visual standpoint. The only reason for depositing these objects is their intrinsic worth, the amount of raw metal material contained within the object. Thus there were three main reasons behind the decision to choose a particular object to sacrifice at the sanctuary: 1. Items were chosen because of a clear thematic connection to the deity (here fertility and the feminine sphere), although, in terms of material, they were worthless (e.g. pebbles) or had lost their value during ritual practice (e.g. the broken pottery). 2. Objects which carried value mainly/only through their intrinsic worth could also be chosen (e.g. aes rude).

Verger 2011, 58-64 de Rossi 1878 22 Gjerstad 1960, 145-60; Gjerstad 1966, 376-7

Orlandini 1966, 30 Verger 2011, 25-57, especially Fig. 36 19 Kron 1992, 635-8, 649-50 17

20

18

21

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World fragments and lumps of aes rude. In all the bronze objects total c. 600 specimens and have a total weight of 3kg.

Independent of further detail, the text is obviously an oath formula that should be connected to a ritual context, an object dedicated in a sanctuary and later deposited in the bothros amongst a variety of dedicated objects. Both deposits on the Quirinal belong to a group of early finds in Rome where no remains of sanctuary buildings could be found. Gjerstad thus sees them as ‘loci sacri sine tecto’ with deposits in so-called ‘favissae’.

The composition of the finds suggests that this pit was a sanctuary deposit. In contrast to the votive pits of Bitalemi, the find from S. Maria della Vittoria is characterised by the creation of a single pit of larger dimensions, in which the votive objects were all placed at the same time. This means that we do not have the direct result of ritual practice, but rather the secondary act of burying the offered dedications of the sanctuary in a bothros/favissa in order to free up space for new offerings. Gjerstad dated the material from the ‘pre-urban’ period until the 4th to 3rd century BC. Thus, the deposit must have taken place in this period at the earliest. Because of the secondary nature of the context it is senseless to analyse the association of objects. Items that had been offered over a long period of time were only placed together after the purge. But nonetheless the deposit reveals which objects were chosen to sacrifice. The deity is unknown and the votives are of no help in this regard, since the items are suitable for sacrifices in a general way, and could have been used for many deities. Again there is a mix of objects: those that have extrinsic value attached to them (e.g. the terracotta discs), items that have mainly/ only intrinsic worth (aes rude being the prime example), and intrinsically valuable objects which are visibly given additional meaning through ritual processes (like the intentionally broken bronze vessels). Again these items do not appear to have a visible hierarchy, and selection may have remained with the individual.

A third example is a deposit found in the 1920s at an unknown sanctuary, this time on the Capitoline.25 The deposit was placed within and below a stone wall of cappellaccio blocks that belonged to the oldest sacral building unearthed during the excavations. Gjerstad rightly noted the connection between the ‘remains of votive offerings associated with the cult practised before the erection of the temple’ and the need for the building itself to have a foundation deposit in order to satisfy ‘the desire to preserve the sacred power and the continuity of the cult by taking care of the sacred objects and using them again for sacred purposes’.26 Gjerstad believed that this explained the uncommonly long accumulation period of the objects in this foundation deposit. Once again, the objects recovered are comparable to the other deposits discussed above. Beneath traces of fire, the pit contained pottery (bucchero, plain white ware, Italo-Corinthian style ware, coarse ware), terracotta (discs of unknown purpose like those mentioned above in the Quirinal deposit), jewellery (bronze rings) and pieces of bronze. The last are of particular interest: several thin bronze sheets were shaped into rough anthropomorphic forms, with sizes ranging from 2.1 to 3.6cm. Their rough appearance resembles the fragmented bronze sheets and associated aes rude, but their form is closer to votive figurines, and these objects thus may combine the functions of these two rather different object groups.

In 1880, two years later and again on the Quirinal, in the area of the Villino Hüffer near the church of San Vitale, a similar votive deposit was found containing a variety of objects including pottery and aes rude.23 Again the finds were dispersed and consequently a detailed analysis is not possible. But according to the descriptions given of the find, it seems that the composition was comparable to the votive pit mentioned above. One find from the pit was preserved, the famous Duenos Vase, named after one of the words contained in the inscription around the vessel. This inscription is written in very early Latin, and its interpretation is still contested today. But following Gjerstad and his translation from 1960, the text might be understood in the following way (and it should be noted that Gjerstad channelled the archaic nature of the Latin into his translation): 24

Votive practices in Italy outside Rome The following examples, which come from outside Rome, are later in time. The first two finds, Velitrae and Tifernium Tiberinum, lack a detailed context but nonetheless provide some information relevant to the discussion here. The first example comes from ancient Velitrae, which is close to Rome and today known as Velletri. In 1784 a small deposit was found at the church of S. Maria della Neve, which Haeberlin wrote consisted of two cast bronze bars and an inscribed tablet. The first bar bears an image of a flying eagle with a thunderbolt on one side, and Pegasus and the inscription ROMANOM on the other (RRC 4/1a). The second bar is decorated with a sword and scabbard (RRC 8/1). Haeberlin reported the third object was a bronze tablet with an inscription in the Volscian language.27 The inscription seemed to provide more

He who puts me on the market swears by the gods: ‘Thy girl shall not be amiable to thee, shall not stand by thee, unless thou wilt befriend her by using (my) assistance.’ Good man has made me for a good purpose and for the benefit of a good man; may a bad man not present me!

Helbig 1880, 137-9; Dressel 1880, 158-60; Gjerstad 1960, 160-5 Gjerstad 1960, 161-4 provides some insight into the abundant philological discussion.

Colini 1927; Colini 1940, 209; Gjerstad 1960, 190-201 Gjerstad 1960, 195, 198 27 Haeberlin 1910, 64 no. 1, 80 no. 1

23

25

24

26

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A. M. Murgan, Heavy metal in hallowed contexts information concerning the deposit, which, following Untermann, reads as follows:28

hypothesis is also possible, where the tablet may have been chosen as a sacrificial object because of its intrinsic value, detached from its original context mentioned in the inscription for a secondary use as a massive bar of bronze. In this case there would be no need to hypothesise about accompanying votives since detachment from its primary context would have transformed the object itself into a votive. But this hypothesis raises the problem that the tablet would thus be a recycled object used as a sacrifice, but taken from another sacrificial context, thus being in absolute contrast to the aim for which it was made (i.e. not to touch the sacrifice). If these votive objects had been somehow removed from another sacrificial context, one would then expect the inscription to be deleted or at least marked as a sign of transition.

Erected for the deity Deklun[a/us]. If somebody touches [the object] in order to repair it, an expiatory sacrifice shall be performed. He shall sacrifice a cow and (a further unknown thing) with pots and wine. If somebody does this with the knowledge of the comitium, it shall be pious to remove [this item]. Erected by the meddices NN and NK. According to the inscription, objects which were brought to the sanctuary had to be left there and could not be altered. If repairs were needed, an entire procedure had to be initiated involving sacrifices and a public decision. Given this, the question arose as to whether the bars were deposited with this inscription as a part of the expiatory sacrifice for the repair of an object that was perhaps a cult image. In terms of use and function, the bars may be what was referenced with the unknown word in the inscription, or perhaps were used as a substitute for the entire sacrifice: the cow, the unknown object, the wine and the pots. Over 100 years later, in 1910, additional excavations revealed a Volscian temple directly under the church,29 which was assigned, on the basis of the inscription given above, to a deity named Dekluna or Deklunus.

The second example has unfortunately lost its context completely. In 1899 at Città di Castello in Umbria, ancient Tifernium Tiberinum, charcoal burners dug up a bronze bar decorated with a bull walking to the left on one side and a bull walking to the right on the other (RRC 5/1). It was found directly beneath the surface, without any associated finds. On one side, an Umbrian inscription was engraved in retrograde letters: FUKES SESTINES. FUKES is, following Haeberlin, linguistically related to the Latin word focus, meaning fire or hearth, and it is suggested in this context that the work refers to the sacred fires in a sanctuary.33 A second reading is VUKES instead of FUKES, related to the Latin lucus, a sacred domain or grove,34 which has a similar meaning. SESTINES refers to Sestinum, today Sestino, a town quite close to Tifernium Tiberinum, around 30km away. Both words in the inscription are written in the genitive and mean ‘[object] of the hearth of the Sestines’. Depending on whether the text is interpreted as a genitivus subiectivus or obiectivus, there are two possible meanings: the object is intended for the hearth, or it is from the hearth.

It took over 100 years until the mistake of Haeberlin was corrected. Crawford has recently noted that all the reports of the find before Haeberlin’s compendium mentioned both the inscription and the bars, but never together.30 Thus the connection between the bars and the inscription no longer stands, and we should thus talk of the two finds individually. But what is undisputed is that all three objects come from the sanctuary of Velitrae, regardless of the imprecision surrounding their publication. In terms of chronology, both the inscription and the bars are roughly contemporary. The inscription has been dated to c. 275 BC, suggested by the letter forms, while Roman bars were not created earlier than the beginning of the 3rd century BC.31

If the first interpretation is correct, we might see here the preparation of a votive for the sanctuary of Sestinum. The act of inscribing would convert the bar from a replaceable and more general purpose piece of money to a personalised votive offering intended for a certain destination, thus giving it additional extrinsic value. If the second translation is correct, we have here an example of an object intentionally leaving a sanctuary and intentionally being marked as such. A thief, for example, would not have done this. In this case, an item of stored value was given to someone, perhaps as a payment or gratuity, meaning the object left the sanctuary to serve a monetary function. Here the inscription would have worked in the same manner that inscriptions work on coins. Just as on coins the inscription or legend referred to where the coin was struck, the inscription here might also refer to the origin of the money. One might speculate that the removal of the item from the sanctuary required a procedure similar to

The reason the bars were chosen for dedication was, as far as we can reconstruct, because of their intrinsic value. The inscription on the tablet suggests that this object was given an extrinsic value through the act of inscribing, in addition to its intrinsic worth, since it is a very large bronze object. Crawford emphasised the fact that the three pieces were imported ‘portable objects’, since the bars were cast in Rome and a Volscian inscription would still have been a surprise in Velitrae at this time.32 The tablet may have been dedicated with other objects which have not survived (e.g. the unknown erected object for Deklun[a/us]), which may also have been imported and might thus have had value as exotic items, indicating a high value. But another Untermann 1956, 135 Mancini 1915 30 Crawford et al. 2011, 340-2 31 Crawford 1969, 11; Crawford 1974, 131-3 32 Crawford et al. 2011, 340 28 29

33 34

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Haeberlin 1910, 143-4 no. 2 Untermann 2000, 439-40

Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World that described in the inscription of Velitrae. Or it is also possible that such decisions could be made more easily for smaller objects. Additionally, this example tells us about the area of influence of this sanctuary, especially when we consider the topographical positions of Sestinum and Tifernium Tiberinum. There is not only the distance of 30km between the sanctuary and the find spot, but in order to travel from one location to the other one must cross the Apennine Mountains.

as monetary material given as a dedication, replacing their pre-monetary counterparts. Graves Turning now to the last category of contexts considered here, graves, we again find interesting points of commonality. For Sicily, Verger pointed out that the composition of some votive deposits from Bitalemi were remarkably similar to grave goods found in Greek female and child graves in Sicily, particularly in the case of feminine objects like spindle whorls or jewellery.39 The same observation might be made for the votive pits and graves of Rome. The similarities between the two contexts is so high that de Rossi was unable to decide whether a deposit found in 1878 was a votive pit or a grave, eventually deciding in favour of a human burial.40 Since the relatives of the deceased were duty-bound to guarantee the deceased a successful journey into the underworld with all the belongings that were needed in his or her future (if the deceased had not personally arranged his or her burial during their life), it is understandable that the dedications in graves had a significance similar to sanctuary votives given during a person’s lifetime, which might explain this commonality.

The last example comes from a still later context. The sanctuary of Gravisca lies on the coast near the village of Lido di Tarquinia, about 75km north-west of Rome. This Graeco-Etruscan complex consisted of several buildings that were explored in the 1960s and 70s. The excavations resulted in numerous publications.35 Building Gamma, which was constructed at the end of the 5th century BC, was identified as an area associated with the cult of Aphrodite Turan and Uni.36 It was here that the majority of coins arising from the sanctuary were found. The majority of these coins were found in court I, which was furnished with a series of altars. Together with the coins, a piece of aes rude and a rich series of votives were found, including pottery (e.g. bucchero, Corinthian ware, Etruscan vases, black and red figured pottery, unguentaria, coarse ware), terracotta (e.g. architectural remains, lamps, figurines), metal (e.g. sheets of gold and bronze, hooks, lances, bronze and iron slag), jewellery (e.g. silver rings), and natural remains (e.g. animal bones, ostrich eggs).37 The coins are made of silver or bronze, and include both struck and cast examples, for instance aes grave. They are Campanian, Etruscan, Roman Republican or Punic issues and range in date from the end of the 5th to the 2nd century BC.38

In 1987, Bergonzi and Agostinetti published an article in which they surveyed monetary finds in tombs in the first millennium BC, surveying Italy, Central Europe and the East (mainland Greece, Macedonia, Ionia, as well as Pantikapeion).41 Graves which contained pieces of aes rude, cast bars and coins were compared against the location of hoards containing the same material. The main area in which uncoined metal was used was demonstrated to be the Po valley and Central Italy, whereas South Italy largely used coins in both hoards and graves. In Etruria and Latium a certain overlap between the two systems can be observed, a consequence of the appearance of coins in Rome and the circulation of coinage over time.

This find gives a good insight into the practice of consecrating different objects from different regions in one context. Items that are commonly considered money, as well as votives of other materials, are again used for comparable purposes, and were brought to the sanctuary on multiple occasions over a period of about 300 years. Once again dedications with intrinsic and extrinsic value were used in similar ways. The reasons why certain objects were chosen as dedications cannot be reconstructed from the archaeological material. Due to the great variety of votives it seems that the dedicants were quite free in their individual decisions, which were likely dependent on the occasion and personal prosperity. However, a change in the use of the material considered money is visible here. Whereas aes rude was present in significant quantities in earlier sanctuaries, in this deposit there is only a single piece. Instead coins appear and seem to adopt the function

Independent of the distinct regional preferences in terms of the type and form of metal chosen, the observation can be made that the offering of heavy metal was not uncommon in graves. A special case that might demonstrate the close similarities between dedications in both graves and sanctuaries is the deposit at the lapis niger in the Roman Forum. Here pottery was found, as well as an archaic bronze figurine and objects of bronze and copper like fibulae, circlets, rings, pendants and approximately 50 pieces of aes rude.42 The forum overall and particularly the lapis niger were heavily loaded with mythical meaning; for the lapis niger mythical associations were so strong that the place was marked by black marble plates and was never built on again.43 Under these plates, relics of a sacral

Fortunelli (ed.) (1993-), Gravisca. Scavi nel santuario greco. Bari. Edipuglia. For a complete list of publications dating to 2001 and earlier see Fiorini 2005a, 253 n. 2. 36 Fiorini 2005b, 39-92 37 Fiorini 2005b, 205-58 38 Visonà 1993; Gorini 2004 35

Verger 2011, 22 de Rossi 1878, 70-2 41 Bergonzi and Piana Agostinetti 1987 42 Savignoni 1900 43 Steinmann 2011, 81-2 39 40

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A. M. Murgan, Heavy metal in hallowed contexts construction have been found that were ascribed to the early Roman Vulcanal. Additionally, according to myth, the grave of either Romulus or his foster father Faustulus was located here.44 Whether the reason for the deposit was the sanctuary or the grave is unclear. Perhaps it was a sacrifice for both, fulfilling a ritual function for the cult of Vulcan and a grave ritual for the city founder at the same time.

divine sphere, these objects became something different to common money, and were used like other votive items as a medium for exchange with the divine, either as thanks for divine benefactions received, or as an offering in hope of such benefits. This dichotomy between the sacred and profane applications of money might be explained by models deriving from anthropology, which identified this phenomenon in research on the nature of money. Of interest to our discussion is Bloch and Parry’s model that describes the possibility for money to have different meanings, even in the same society.48 Bloch and Parry recognised two different spheres of exchange and transaction: a short-term cycle for individual transactions and a long-term cycle connected to the ‘social or cosmic order’.49 This model, which Aarts applied to Roman culture,50 may clarify how aes was used. In profane contexts, (pre-)monetary objects belonged to the short-term sphere, where they were used in individual cases and subjected to competition and trade. By contrast, in hallowed contexts these same objects were given to gods and thereby entered the long-term sphere. ‘Therefore money has to be converted form (sic.) the short-term to the long-term cycle, and in most cases this conversion is performed ritually’,51 as we can retrace in all our cases. Aes (as well as other impersonalised votives like wine or oil) functions here as a given sacrifice, as a gift that ‘is based on an exchange of inalienable objects between interdependent transactors’.52 But for (pre-) monetary objects, their nature is alienable. It is the long-term character of the donation (the given objects do not return to the giver), that made it possible for alienable objects to be ‘transacted between conceptually interdependent persons.’53 The crucial point therefore was the long-term relationship between the dedicator and the receiving deity, whereas the sacrificed object could be of reduced importance.

Conclusion All these examples show that the offering of metal, transferring it from the profane to a hallowed sphere, was not an unusual phenomenon in Central Italy and Sicily. It is impossible to reconstruct the details of particular religious rituals from the archaeological record, nor is it possible to wholly understand the reasons why an individual chose one type of votive object over another. But from the archaeological record similarities emerge in the region stretching from Sicily to the Po valley. In this melting pot of different indigenous and non-indigenous peoples, one could say that a certain similitude becomes visible, a homogeneity in the heterogeneity, where the Romans were one group among many. Understanding the metal material as money, one has to consider the following possible monetary functions for these objects: they functioned as a means to accumulate wealth, as a store of value, a unit of calculation, a means of exchange, or a means of payment. The discussion about the functions of coins in different time periods is already a rich one, but for aes rude and currency bars the situation is more complicated. Often people feel safe using the term ‘pre-monetary material’ to describe these objects. Early Roman leges like the Lex Tarpeia and the Lex Papiria indicate the use of aes as a means of payment for fines.45 Pliny’s comment ‘Servius rex primus signavit aes, antea rudi usos Romae’46 is well known, but this is far from being an eyewitness report. In the archaeological record, aes turns up in the profane sphere deposited in hoards, where, in the majority of cases, it is chopped up in order to achieve particular weights; in later contexts these aes rude pieces are also deposited with coins.47 These contexts reflect different functions of money.

The practice of ritually depositing valuable metal objects persisted throughout the first millennium BC, although there was some shift in the type of objects dedicated as new items entered the region (e.g. coins appear alongside aes rude). The archaeological record reveals an overall persistence of ritual with some subtle developments and alterations: continuity in change. Once sacrificed, some objects had to remain in their new sacred context and could not be touched, at least in the sanctuary of Deklun[a/us] at Velitrae. To overcome this restriction, special procedures may have had to be performed, including further sacrifices or public decisions. Under what conditions and for which material this took place must remain open, but it is likely that purpose-related reuse of votives was permitted.54 In

Looking at the material in sacred contexts, aes is treated in the same way as other votive material like tools, jewellery, pottery, figurines or iron knives. Assuming that not every votive automatically has a monetary function, here these pieces of aes do not appear to function as a unit of calculation, means of exchange or a means of payment in a literal sense. In fact, the material appears to have been used as a ‘holder’ of value in a broader sense than money, in that it was an object which was difficult to obtain and which cost its owner to sacrifice. But by being used in the

Bloch and Parry 1989, 22-3 Bloch and Parry 1989, 23-4 50 Aarts 2005, 12-4 51 Aarts 2005, 13 52 Bloch and Parry 1989, 8 53 Bloch and Parry 1989, 8 54 Aarts 2005, 20-1 48 49

Coarelli 1983, 161-78 See Thomsen 1957, 19-48 Pliny NH 33.43 47 Crawford 1969 passim 44 45 46

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World contrast to their entrance into the hallowed sphere through sacrifice, valuable objects, like aes and coins, might have regained their monetary functions once they had exited this sphere, for instance to pay for repairs to the sanctuary. The pre-monetary and monetary material was practically predestined for such purposes. Both types of material could easily be ‘spent’ because of their manageability and because they were accepted outside the sanctuary, when the votives returned to the sphere of short-term transactions. In this regard, temples were the beneficiaries of the system. The use of such votive materials for the benefit of the cult may explain the flourishing of temples in the 6th and 5th century BC, as Smith suggested in 2001.55

Bergonzi, G. and Piana Agostinetti, P. 1987. L’«obolo di caronte». «Aes rude» e monete nelle tombe: la pianura padana tra mondo classico e ambito transalpino nella seconda età del ferro. Scienze dell’antichità. Storia, archeologia, antropologia 1, 161-223. Bloch, M. and Parry, J. 1989. Introduction: money and the morality of exchange. In J. Parry and M. Bloch (eds), Money and the Morality of Exchange, 1-32. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Coarelli, F. 1983. Il Foro Romano. Periodo arcaico. Rome, Ed. Quasar. Colini, A. M. 1927. Le recente scoperte sul Campidoglio. Capitolium 3, 383-8. Colini, A. M. 1940. Nuovi avanzi archeologici dei tempi più antichi di Roma. In C. Galassi Paluzzi (ed.), Atti del V congresso nazionale di studi romani. Volume secondo, 205-12. Rome, Istituto di Studi Romani. Crawford, M. H. 1969. Roman Republican Coin Hoards. London, Royal Numismatic Society. Crawford, M. H. 1974. Roman Republican Coinage I. Introduction and Catalogue. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Crawford, M. H. 2003. Thesauri, hoards and votive deposits. In O. de Cazanove and J. Scheid (eds), Sanctuaires et sources dans l’Antiquité. Les sources documentaires et leurs limites dans la description des lieux de culte. Actes de la table ronde. Naples, 30 novembre 2001, 69-84. Naples, Centre Jean Bérard. Crawford, M. H. 2009. From aes signare to aes signatum. Schweizerische numismatische Rundschau 88, 195-7. Crawford, M. H. et al. 2011. Imagines Italicae. A Corpus of Italic Inscriptions. London, Royal Numismatic Society. de Rossi, M. S. 1878. Intorno ad un copioso deposito di stoviglie ed altri oggetti arcaici rinvenuto nel Viminale. Bullettino della Commissione archeologica comunale di Roma 6, 64-92. Dressel, H. 1880. Di una antichissima iscrizione latina graffita sopra vaso votivo rinvenuto in Roma. Annali dell’Instituto di corrispondenza archeologica 52, 15895. Fiorentini, G. 1993-1994. Attività di indagini archeologiche della soprintendenza beni culturale e ambientali di Agrigento. Kώκαλος. Studi pubblicati dall´Istituto di storia antica dell´Università di Palermo 39/40, 71733. Fiorini, L. 2005a. La nuova stipe votiva di Gravisca. In A. Comella and S. Mele (eds), Depositi votivi e culti dell’Italia antica dall’età arcaica a quella tardorepubblicana. Atti del Convegno di Studi. Perugia, 1-4 giuno 2000, 245-58. Bari, Edipuglia. Fiorini, L. 2005b. Topografia generale e storia del santuario. Analisi dei contesti e delle stratigrafie (Gravisca. Scavi nel Santuario Greco 1.1). Bari, Edipuglia. Gjerstad, E. 1960. Early Rome III. Fortifications, Domestic Architecture, Sanctuaries, Stratigraphic Excavations (Skrifter Utgivna Av Svenska Institute i Rom (Acta Instituti Romani Regni Sueciae) 17:3). Lund, Gleerup.

In addition to the continued use of metal, continuity can also be seen in the topography of these areas, with sacred places retaining their status over time. Christian churches were later built over the deposits at Bitalemi, near the votive pits from the Quirinal and the Capitoline, and over the temple from Velitrae. These churches thus drew on and transformed the spiritual meaning of these locations. With the aid of context based analyses we can reveal more information about ritual continuity and change in Central Italy and Sicily, and perhaps build a more detailed picture about the different inhabitants of these regions. Good publications about this often visually unattractive material are still very rare, but remain the foundation of our knowledge. Hopefully future publications will enhance this picture, and the so-called pre-monetary material can be reintegrated into our understanding of the material culture of the ancient world, to better understand how objects gained and embodied different kinds of value, and how these values were transformed through time and space. This short study has underlined the benefits to be gained from paying renewed attention to this oft forgotten material.

Bibliography

Abbreviations RRC Crawford, M. H. 1974. Roman Republican Coinage I. Introduction and Catalogue. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Aarts, J. 2005. Coins, money and exchange in the Roman world. A cultural-economic perspective. Archaeological Dialogues 12, 1-28.

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Smith 2001, 19-20

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A. M. Murgan, Heavy metal in hallowed contexts Gjerstad, E. 1966. Early Rome IV:2. Synthesis of Archaeological Evidence (Skrifter Utgivna Av Svenska Institute i Rom (Acta Instituti Romani Regni Sueciae) 17:4). Lund, Gleerup. Gorini, G. 2004. Le monete. In I materiali minori (Gravisca. Scavi nel Santuario Greco 16), 157-71, Bari, Edipuglia. Haeberlin, E. J. 1910. Aes Grave. Das Schwergeld Roms und Mittelitaliens einschliesslich der ihm vorausgehenden Rohbronzewährung. Frankfurt am Main, Joseph Baer. Helbig, W. 1880. Adunanze dell‘instituto. Bullettino dell’Instituto di corrispondenza archeologica 6, 12942. Kron, U. 1992. Frauenfeste in Demeterheiligtümern: Das Thesmophorion von Bitalemi. Eine archäologische Fallstudie. Archäologischer Anzeiger, 611-50. Mancini, G. 1915. Velletri — Saggi di scavo attorno e sotto la chiesa di S. Maria delle Neve o delle Ss. Stimmate, e scoperta di un tempio volsco. Notizie degli scavi di antichità, 68-88. Nawracala, R. 2011. Der Saturntempel. In B. Steinmann, R. Nawracala and M. Boss (eds), Im Zentrum der Macht. Das Forum Romanum im Modell, 45-7. Erlangen, Friedrich-Alexander-Universität Erlangen-Nürnberg. Orlandini, P. 1965-1967. Gela — Depositi votivi di bronzo premonetale nel santuario di Demetra Thesmophoros a Bitalemi. Annali. Istituto italiano di numismatica 1214, 1-20. Orlandini, P. 1966. Lo scavo del thesmophorion di Bitalemi e il culto delle divinità ctonie a Gela. Kώκαλος. Studi pubblicati dall´Istituto di storia antica dell´Università di Palermo 12, 8-35. Orlandini, P. 1967. Gela: nuove scoperte nel Thesmophorion di Bitalemi. Kώκαλος. Studi pubblicati dall´Istituto di storia antica dell´Università di Palermo 13, 177-9. Orlandini, P. 2003. Il thesmophorion di Bitalemi (Gela): nuove scoperte e osservazioni. In G. Fiorentini, M. Caltabiano and A. Calderone (eds), Archeologia del mediterraneo. Studi in onore di Ernesto de Miro (Bibliotheca Archaeologica 35), 507-13. Rome, L’Erma di Bretschneider. Orsi, P. 1907. Santuario suburbano a Bitalemi (Scavi aprile–maggie 1901). Monumenti Antichi della Reale Accademia dei Lincei 17, 575-730. Savignoni, L. 1900. La suppellettile archeologica trovata sotto il niger lapis del Foro Romano. Notizie degli scavi di antichità, 143-6. Smith, C. J. 2001. Ritualising the economy. In A. J. Nijboer (ed.), Interpreting Deposits: Linking Ritual with Economy (Papers on Mediterranean Archaeology. Caeculus 4), 17-23. Groningen, Groningen Institute for Archaeology. Steinmann, B. 2011. Kleine Heiligtümer. In B. Steinmann, R. Nawracala and M. Boss (eds), Im Zentrum der Macht. Das Forum Romanum im Modell, 76-83. Erlangen, Friedrich-Alexander-Universität ErlangenNürnberg. Thomsen, R. 1957. Early Roman Coinage. A Study of the Chronology. I. The Evidence (Nationalmuseetsskrifter.

Arkaeologisk-historisk raekke V). Copenhagen, Nationalmuseet. Untermann, J. 1956. Die Bronzetafel von Velletri. Indogermanische Forschungen 62, 123-35. Untermann, J. 2000. Wörterbuch des Oskisch-Umbrischen. (Handbuch der italischen Dialekte 3). Heidelberg, Winter. Verger, S. 2011. Dévotions féminines et bronzes de l’extrême nord dans le thesmophorion de Géla. In F. Quantin (ed.), Archéologie des religions antiques. Contributions à l‘étude des sanctuaires et de la piété en Méditerranée (Grèce, Italie, Sicile, Espagne) (ARCHAIA 1), 15-76. Pau, Université de Pau et des pays de l‘Adour. Visonà, P. 1993. Gravisca e punta della Vipera: Le monete. Numismatica e antichità classiche. Quaderni ticinesi 22, 41-60.

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The value of coinage in the Second Punic War and after Clare Rowan

This article examines the double-sided nature of the value of coinage in the ancient world. A coin’s value can derive from a particular government or authority, or its value can be created between two private actors in the marketplace. One type of value may be privileged over the other in particular periods and contexts, and thus an ancient coin could move between different spheres of value, with its worth being calculated and re-calculated according to context. These at times conflicting value-attribution mechanisms are explored through a case study of the coinage of Capua and the Bretti during the period of the Second Punic War and after. While government-sponsored value was privileged in Southern Italy during the period of conflict, Roman monetary policies after the war provided incentive for the creation of local value attributions between private individuals. coinage, the Bretti, Capua, Roman Republic, ideology

Die Wertentstehung bei Münzen ist für die antike Welt ambivalent: Einerseits wird der Wert einer Münze durch eine Regierung oder eine andere Autorität bestimmt, andererseits kann ihr Wert auch zwischen zwei privaten Akteuren auf einem Marktplatz ausgehandelt werden. Zu bestimmten Zeiten und in unterschiedlichen Kontexten ist die eine der beiden Wertbeimessungen der anderen überlegen. So konnten antike Münzen zwischen divergierenden Wertsphären wandern, während die jeweilige Kaufkraft angepasst an den Kontext berechnet wurde. Diese manchmal widersprüchlichen Mechanismen der Wertzuschreibung stehen im Zentrum der Fallstudie zur Münzprägung von Capua und der Brettier im Zweiten Punischen Krieg sowie in der Folgezeit. Während der durch Autoritäten fixierte Wert in Süditalien in der Konfliktphase privilegiert war, lieferte die römische Münzpolitik nach dem Krieg den Anreiz zu lokalen Wertaushandlungen unter privaten Individuen. Münzen, die Brettier, Capua, römische Republik, Ideologie

Modern understandings of value have been influenced to a significant extent by our understanding of money, which is traditionally defined as an object that can act as a medium of exchange, a unit of account and/or a store of value.1 It is these functions that have made money central to the discussion of value in both archaeology and anthropology. But this description of the function(s) of money is dissatisfying in many respects. Different forms of money perform some or all of the functions above, but money also has an influence on people and society that goes beyond this standard economic definition. Money’s function as a means of payment was an important one in the ancient world, a function that should be studied separately from the role of money in exchange. Money also has a symbolic function, it can evoke an emotional

response, and it represents power.2 These functions derive from the political contexts of currencies, which are often overlooked in favour of more economic interpretations. But in order to understand money and how it operates in society, the political and the economic aspect of this medium need to be addressed. This contribution focuses on one form of money in the ancient world: coinage. In fact, coinage provides a useful metaphor with which to understand money more generally. The anthropologist Keith Hart argued that money, like coinage, is double-sided: it is simultaneously the product of a social organisation from the ‘top down’ (symbolised by the ‘heads’ side of the coin which usually bears a representation of the authority), as well as from the ‘bottom up’ (symbolised by the ‘tails’ side of a coin, which normally bears a numerical value).3 Money is a token of authority and an aspect of relations between people (‘heads’). But at

This research forms part of a broader group research project at the Goethe University Frankfurt entitled Coinage and the Dynamics of Power: the Western Mediterranean 500-100 BC, funded by the VolkswagenStiftung. Thanks are due to the project leader, Prof. Dr. Fleur Kemmers, as well as to Andreas Murgan and Ulrike Wolf for helpful suggestions. This article also owes much to the discussions and feedback given by the Research Training Group Value and Equivalence at the Goethe University, in particular Felix Brandl and Federico Buccellati. 1

Graeber 1996, 4-10; Backhaus 1999, 1075-6; Marten and Kula 2008, 183-5; Wynne-Jones and Fleisher 2012, 19 3 Hart 1986, 637-8; Lambek 2001, 748; Wynne-Jones and Fleisher 2012, 25 2

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World the same time it is an object that can be used for exchange, capable of entering into definite relations with other things, and, in this sense, it is also detached from people (‘tails’). These two sides of money are seen in the different approaches to the medium in the modern world. Token theories of money suggest that money has a value made by law, while commodity theories of money argue that its value is derived from the marketplace, and that money can function as a type of commodity. But both sides of money are indispensable. Many interpretations of money focus on one aspect at the expense of the other, but if we are truly to understand money, we must acknowledge both sides of the coin.

back into a Roman alliance.4 The importance of Capua meant that it became a focus of the Roman war effort, and Livy reports that Hannibal allegedly promised to make it the new capital of Italy.5 Close reading of the textual evidence suggests that Capua used the Hannibalic invasion to begin to increase their hegemony in the region.6 Capua was both influential and wealthy, but it was only during the rebellion from Rome that the city struck its own coinage.7 That Capua would only strike coinage at this particular juncture suggests a strong connection between coinage and power, a connection that is also well established in anthropological research. Indeed, money is one of the key mechanisms through which people experience the power of a ruler or state, and as a consequence the ability to issue or assign value to a currency is often closely controlled.8 Roman control of the Campanian region may have prevented Capua from issuing her own coinage before this point. Capua’s imperial ambition during the war manifested itself not only on the military scene, but also within a more economic sphere, with the release of her own currency. This connection between money and (supra)regional power is articulated by Polybius. In his section on the Roman constitution, Polybius compares Rome with Sparta. He observes that one of the reasons Sparta’s imperial ambitions failed was that they lacked a universal currency; on this particular point, the Romans were superior.9 Polybius, writing in the second century BC when Roman power was uncontested and Roman silver currency pervasive, suggests the importance of coinage to Roman ambitions, and to the ambitions of those who would challenge Roman power.

The value of coinage in the ancient world was also simultaneously state-sponsored and derived from the marketplace. This inherent dualism in value and in coinage itself is particularly clear in the monetary practices of southern Italy in the period of the Second Punic War and after (from 218 BC). During this period both aspects of a coin’s value are apparent. The political value of coinage is prominent during the war: those contesting Roman supremacy struck their own coins carrying images that referred to alternative political entities. Hoards from the period suggest that a coin’s value was heavily connected to different political domains, represented by particular numismatic iconography. The authority who struck the coin was key in assigning value, a phenomenon probably linked to the role of coinage in both making and receiving state payments. After the war, the Roman political system continued to underwrite the value of precious metal currency, but there was a shift in the use of small change in some regions of Southern Italy. For lower denominations, the ‘tails’ aspect of money played an increased role in attributing value. Obsolete and old coins continued to circulate, suggesting that coinage became a product whose value was agreed upon privately in the marketplace. This switch in emphasis highlights the dual nature of money, where two valuation systems are simultaneously present, and where one method of valuation might rapidly gain precedence over another in response to political, social and economic circumstances.

The coinage produced by Capua during the Second Punic War underlines the role of coinage as a circulating token of authority. The timing of the coins and their iconography clearly indicate their political value. Although some coin iconography references local culture (e.g. the two draped xoana found on an aes issue, HN Italy 495), many other issues draw on numismatic iconography that was already circulating in the region.10 One aes issue bears the image of two warriors swearing an oath over a pig (HN Italy 487, Figure 1), a reference to a Roman aureus type struck earlier in the war (225-12 BC, RRC 28/1, Figure 2). Crawford interpreted the Roman issue as a call to arms and loyalty for all Roman allies.11 The appropriation of the type by Capua suggests that the Roman image was viewed, understood and remembered, and then redeployed in a new context as a call to loyalty to Capua. Capua thus adopted the imagery of power in order to proclaim her own

The political value of coinage: Rome, Capua and the Bretti during the Second Punic War (218-202 BC) The Second Punic War was a conflict between two influential Mediterranean powers: Carthage and Rome. The war was a serious challenge to growing Roman power within the region, a challenge brought to Rome first hand by Hannibal’s invasion of Italy. After a significant Roman defeat at the battle of Cannae in 216 BC, many cities within Italy defected to Hannibal, amongst them the influential city of Capua. The revolt of Capua features heavily in ancient narratives of the Second Punic War, highlighting both Roman shock and Capua’s importance as a regional leader, who could either lead other cities into revolt, or

Livy 25.15.18-20, 26.1.2-5, with discussion in Fronda 2010, 100-26. Livy 23.10.2 Fronda 2007, 93-6; Fronda 2010, 125 7 HN Italy 479-510; Breglia 1948, 3-8; Giard 1965, 235-60; Moroni 1968, 97-112 8 Wynne-Jones and Fleisher 2012, 26 9 Polybius 6.49.8-10 10 See the listing of coins in n. 7, above, and Giard 1965, 237-9. 11 Crawford 1974, 715 4 5 6

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Figure 1 Reverse of an AE coin of Capua with an oath scene (ANS 1944.100.456). (Reproduced courtesy of the American Numismatic Society).

Figure 3 AE coin of Capua with Nike crowning a trophy (SNG Australia 40). (Reproduced courtesy of the Australian Centre for Ancient Numismatic Studies).

The striking of coinage by Capua and her allies ceased after their rebellion was quashed in 211 BC. Very little of the coinage is found today in the archaeological record.14 It is difficult to know if this is because the Romans intentionally destroyed Capuan coinage after her defeat, or because the issues were only produced for a short time by a city under siege. Livy notes that the harsh terms imposed on Capua after her defeat included the handing over of gold and silver.15 By contrast, the coinage of the Bretti, who also joined forces with Hannibal, is found in relatively large numbers within their territory in Southern Italy. Before Roman control of the region, Brettian cities had struck their own coins, but this appears to have ceased with the Roman defeat of Pyrrhus (Hipponium, for example, last struck coinage in c. 280 BC). The Brettians had supported Pyrrhus, and lost a significant portion of their holdings after his defeat. It was only during their rebellion from Rome in the Second Punic War that the Bretti struck coinage again.16 As with Capua, the decision to strike coinage comes at a moment when the Brettians asserted their independence and hegemony, suggesting a link between coinage and the power struggles that were taking place within the Mediterranean. The iconography of these coins again drew on existing numismatic repertoires, with references to Pyrrhus, Rome, Carthage, and Syracuse, amongst others.17 In contrast to the issues of Capua, Brettian coins were produced in large quantity, and are frequently found in archaeological contexts in Southern Italy, particularly within the region of modern day Calabria.

Figure 2 Roman AV stater with an oath scene (RRC 28/1). © Trustees of the British Museum.

hegemonic intentions. This same type is struck by Capua’s ally Atella (HN Italy 466), underlining this interpretation. Capua’s allies Atella and Calatia also only strike coinage at this time, with both cities releasing a series of lower denomination aes issues.12 Capua and her allies have several similarities in their numismatic iconography, and all struck a common type: Nike crowning a trophy (HN Italy 467, 474, 493, Figure 3). This imagery, which also graced the coinage of Syracuse and the Seleucids, became the standard type for Roman victoriati coinage. That Capua and her allies struck identical or similar coin types highlights the role currency played in power politics – the coins and their iconography were statements of Capua’s intent, and a symbol of the control she already had over the region. That these coins were produced for political reasons as much as economic ones is evident from the fact that Capua and her allies often overstruck existing Roman coinage to produce their own issues.13 There was thus an existing currency that Capua had been using before her revolt, but the changed political circumstances meant that the Capuans no longer recognised Roman-sponsored value. Roman coins were thus converted. 12 13

The archaeological contexts of Brettian coins reveal that in Brettian-controlled Southern Italy during the Second

On the finds (in Rome, Labico, Città Sant’Angelo, Capua, Calatia and Atella) see Cesano 1931, 615-37; and Giard 1965, 241, 245. 15 Livy 26.14.8 16 On the coinage of the Bretti see Regling 1921, 80-8; Scheu 1961, 51-66; Pfeiler 1964, 7-50; Arslan 1989; Parise 1993, 187-96; Taliercio Mensitieri 1995, 127-51 and HN Italy 1940-2012. 17 Arslan 1989, 63-9; Caccamo Caltabiano 1995, 156-73; Carrocio 2000, 249-50 14

Livy 26.15.5; Breglia 1948, 6; Frederiksen 1959, 82; Fronda 2007, 99 Hersh 1953, 37, 45-6; Crawford 1985, 62

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Figure 4 Map of Southern Italy with the sites mentioned in the text. Image created by author.

Punic War the value of coinage was underwritten by the state. A coin was only recognised as valid if it had been struck by a particular political body, in this case the Bretti and their allies, the Carthaginians. This is underlined by an examination of the precious metal coin hoards deposited during the Second Punic War in this region (c. 218-200 BC) (Figure 5).18 Although many of these hoards are poorly or incompletely recorded, they nonetheless provide a general impression of what types of coin circulated together, and what coins were buried with one another as a store of value.

the archaeological excavations at Morgantina in Sicily provide a fairly secure chronological point, which dates the introduction of the denarius-system to the Second Punic War.20 The coins of the Bretti are dated to the Second Punic War on the basis of overstrikes, hoards (where they are found together with Carthaginian coins of this period), and because some Brettian iconography imitated issues of this period.21 These hoards can thus be assigned to the period of the Second Punic War with reasonable certainty. In precious metal hoards from the Second Punic War that contain Brettian coins, the issues are generally found together with Carthaginian issues, and Roman coins are usually absent (Figure 5). This is even the case for exceptionally large hoards. The Vibo Valentia 1969 hoard, for example, contained 866 silver Brettian issues.22 No other mint was represented. The Tiriolo hoard contained 328 Brettian silver coins and 343 Carthaginian pieces (IGCH 2021). In hoards of this period from the region, only two Roman coins are found: one in the Cantanzaro hoard (IGCH 2019) and one in the Locri hoard (IGCH 2014). Crawford interprets the Roman coin in the Cantanzaro hoard as war booty, since it is found alongside coins from Neapolis, Taras, and Heracleia.23 The Roman coin in the

Generally an ancient coin hoard contained coins withdrawn from circulation by an individual, which were deposited for safekeeping, and/or with the intention that the coins would be worth more at a later date. They thus provide an idea of the currency in circulation in a particular region or time period.19 The turbulent period of the Second Punic War meant that many hoards were buried and not recovered, providing a significant record for the modern day archaeologist. The coins in these hoards are largely dated by their discovery in archaeological contexts, or by the fact that they are deposited alongside other coins that are more securely dated. For Roman Republican coins, On the hoards see Arslan 1989, 37-8. See also Taliercio Mensitieri 2004, 209 and 217. 19 See Reece 1987, 57; Howgego 1993, 220-1; and Lockyear 1999, 21545; amongst others.

Buttrey 1979, 149-57 Pfeiler 1964, 7-50; Arslan 1989, 28-31; Taliercio Mensitieri 1995, 128 22 Arslan 1989, 38 23 Crawford 1985, 288

18

20 21

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Figure 5 Composition of precious metal hoards from the region of Bruttium, c. 218-200 BC. Chart by author.

Locri hoard may be considered a stray. The two hoards with Roman issues in them should be viewed against the majority of hoards in the region which contain no Roman coins. Brettian and Carthaginian coinage appear to have circulated together, to the exclusion of currency coming from Rome. A similarly exclusionist policy can be seen for hoards in other regions of Italy. Despite being of almost pure silver, Brettian silver coins are almost never found hoarded together with Roman coins.24 Their value within the Roman sphere of influence was not recognised, just as the value of Roman silver was ignored within the Brettian region of control.

that produced them.26 Civic laws may also have meant that foreign coin was not accepted as currency within particular regions. ‘Closed’ markets, where traders had to convert their existing currency into local specie, are known elsewhere in the ancient world.27 At least some of the coinage of the Bretti and the Romans in this period would have been intended as pay for their respective soldiers, and the use of their own coinage would have meant that numismatic iconography would reach a specific target audience. Thus there may be a variety of mechanisms which prevented the mixing of Roman and Brettian coinage, but the phenomenon reflects a situation in which state-sponsored value was important to a coin’s acceptability and usability.

This was likely connected to the role of coinage as a medium of state payments. A state could assign a coin a higher value than its intrinsic metal value, and could make and receive payments in currency of its own choosing. In this situation, a coin’s iconography (representative of a particular authority) gave it a particular value within a particular political and social framework.25 This system meant a coin was more valuable within a given region, where it was in demand, and where the state-supported value was higher than the metal value. Coins tend to stay in the areas in which they are most highly valued and are only rarely worth more outside the political system

The same phenomenon can be seen with hoards of small change or aes coins. These fiduciary coins had their value supported by the state, a value that was often higher than the intrinsic metal worth of the pieces. As with precious metal hoards, aes hoards containing Brettian coins generally do not contain Roman issues (Figure 6). From a survey of hoards in southern Italy deposited during the Second Punic War (c. 218-200 BC), Brettian aes coins appear to circulate

See Kroll 2011, 27-38 on the idea that Athenian coinage was possibly valued more highly outside Athens, making it an ‘export’ coinage. 27 e.g. Ptolemaic and Roman Egypt, Olbia, and Athens. See SIG3 218; Austin and Vidal-Naquet 1972, 326 no. 101 and 330 no. 103; Le Rider 1989, 160-1; von Reden 2007, 43-8. 26

From a survey of hoards recorded in RRCH and IGCH. For the silver content of Brettian coinage see de Caro and Devoto 1998, 83-98. 25 Butcher 2001-2002, 23 24

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World separately to that of Rome. One hoard contains only the coinage of Rome’s ally Petelia (CH IV.44). In other hoards Roman aes issues are found alongside issues of Rhegium, the Ptolemies, Velia, the Mamertines, and Syracuse, amongst others (Sant’Eufemia Vetere, IGCH 2013, IGCH 2029, IGCH 2031). Brettian coinage is generally hoarded much more exclusively, with two hoards composed entirely of Brettian issues (IGCH 2018, CH VIII.336), and other hoards containing small amounts of Carthaginian, Syracusan, Lucanian, and Mamertine issues. Roman aes coinage is found in two Brettian aes hoards (IGCH 2025, CH IX.628), but certainly not in quantity, and these issues may be viewed again as strays. In general, the coins of the Brettians and the Romans are not found together in great quantity, suggesting separate monetary regions. The one exception is the Strongoli 1992 hoard (CH IX. 675), which contained one Roman coin, one Romano-Campanian coin, six issues of Rhegium, 26 of Petelia, five of Syracuse, one of Croton, one of Locri Epizephyrii, and 28 Brettian issues. This hoard, however, is buried towards the end of the time period under consideration (c. 200 BC), and is better understood in the context of the second and first centuries BC, discussed in greater depth below.

another. Coming from a plundered tomb in the region, the hoard consists of one Social War denarius, three Petelian aes issues, one Suessa aes piece, one electrum Syracuse issue, and five Republican denarii. For aes hoards in the region of Strongoli we initially find hoards composed only of a single mint. The hoards CH III.45 and 1474 AE contain only Petelian coins, CH III.117 only Roman types, with Strongoli-Rocca di Neto 1971 and Murge 1974 containing only Brettian issues. There is a mixed hoard of Roman and Petelian coins (CH III.38). Then in c. 200 BC there is a change: we find the mixed Strongoli 1992 hoard containing Roman, Brettian and Petelian pieces, alongside those of other mints (CH IX.675). This mixed composition continues until the first century, and it is likely that the undated hoard published in Siciliano 1995 dates from this period. It appears that the separation of different coinages that had prevailed during the Second Punic War began to break down after the Roman victory in 201 BC. The heavy emphasis on the state aspect of coinage, at least in regards to small change, had transformed. The role of the state in determining the value and acceptability of aes coinage appears to have lost some importance, at least in this region.

The large quantities of hoards buried and not retrieved during the turbulent period of the Second Punic War mean that we are able to clearly see the different value systems in which coinage operated. An exceptional number of hoards, consisting of both precious metal and aes, have been found in and around the area of Strongoli, ancient Petelia.28 Petelia was renowned as one of the few cities in the region that remained loyal to Rome.29 This steadfast loyalty was rewarded by Rome after the war, and Petelia was granted permission to strike its own small change.30 That Rome only granted permission to strike aes coinage as a reward indicates the strongly political aspect of the Roman monetary system, where coinage was not issued in response to economic demand, but as a mark of favour or honour.

Coinage and market value: the aes coinage of the Bretti after the Second Punic War It is clear from hoards throughout Italy that after the Roman defeat of the Bretti their precious metal coinage disappeared, along with all the circulating precious metal coinage of Italian cities other than Rome. The coins were presumably melted down and re-struck into Roman denarii.31 This act was at once economic and political – it not only gave Rome a steady source of silver from which she could create her new denarius-system, but it simultaneously destroyed the imagery and ideas that were circulating on the coinage of her enemies. The result was a Roman monopoly both economically and in terms of iconography. This explains why no Brettian precious metal coins are found in hoards after c. 201 BC. Indeed, this large-scale Roman conversion of silver may also have prompted individuals to bury whatever non-Roman coins they possessed; this too would have meant a disappearance of Brettian currency from circulation.

Examining hoards found in and around the region of Strongoli uncovers a stark contrast in coin use before, during, and after the Second Punic War (Figure 7). Once again the reporting and recording of these finds is less than ideal: often the exact number of coins and the particular iconography of issues are unknown, but enough information exists to uncover which coins were buried together. Pre-Second Punic War precious metal hoards from the region contain exclusively Carthaginian issues (Strongoli 1969, CH III.36). Two precious metal hoards date to after the Second Punic War; one is composed solely of Roman coinage (RRCH 183), while the other comes from a rather confused context (IGCH 2058). The coins of this last hoard are only dubiously associated with one

But the aes coinage of the Bretti and other mints appears not to have been destroyed by Rome. Moreover, instead of the strict separation between the coinage of Rome and the coinage of her enemies seen in the period c. 218-200 BC, Brettian aes coinage mingles with and is hoarded together with other coinage in the period after 200 BC. With Roman power undisputed, the mechanisms by which value was (or was not) attributed to a coin had changed, and it appears

On the hoards see Novaco Lofaro 1974-5, 95; Attianese 1980, 262; Siciliano 1995, 185-96; and Arslan 1996-97, 42-4. 29 Val. Max. 6.6.2 30 Caccamo Caltabiano 1977, 11 28

31

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Figure 6 Composition of aes hoards from Southern Italy, c. 218-200 BC. Chart created by author.

Figure 7 Gold (AV), silver (AR) and aes (AE) hoards from the region of Strongoli. Chart created by author.

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World aes coinage; the only Roman coin was a sporadic find, out of context.41 In other sections of the settlement, which contained higher quantities of Copian coinage (suggesting continued occupation), Brettian coins are found alongside those of Rome and other mints.42 From the state of current research on the site of Castiglione di Paludi, it appears that the coin finds here also conform to the pattern observed in the aes hoards: initially Brettian aes coins circulated independently of Roman issues, and only after the Second Punic War did the coins become accepted alongside the issues of Rome and her allies.

that the issuing authority (a defeated and disgraced group in the case of the Bretti) no longer had a central role in determining the coin’s acceptability. This change in valuation is also supported by coin finds from excavations. Brettian aes coins have been found in archaeological contexts throughout Southern Italy until at least the time of Augustus, and perhaps even later.32 At the Oppido Mamertina excavations Brettian coins have been found in post Punic War Republican and imperial contexts, suggesting that the issues (along with aes types from other Greek cities) continued to be used as currency.33 At Palmi, Brettian coins were found in two distinct phases from the last two centuries BC, alongside aes coinage from Rhegium, the Mamertines, and Rome.34 Emergency excavations of the settlement in Forche di Solano uncovered ten issues of the Mamertines, two Syracusan emissions of Hieron II, one Brettian issue, as well as a Roman sextans and a semis of the Latin colony Vibo Valentia.35 Here again the issues of Rome, her allies, and her former enemy appear to have been in circulation at the same time. Unpublished data from Caulonia also suggests that Brettian aes coinage continued to circulate well after the Second Punic War.36 Further evidence might be found in the excavations at Monasterace Marina, near Caulonia. Work here uncovered a site abandoned at the end of the Second Punic War. Not one Roman issue was found amongst the 28 coin finds, although there was a significant presence of Brettian and Syracusan coinage.37

Thus although Rome carefully removed all non-Roman circulating silver coinage from Italy, existing aes coinage was not re-minted or destroyed. The differing treatment of differing types of coinage may be explained by the multiple uses of the medium. For the Roman government, the most important aspect of coinage may have been its function as a medium of payment – either the payment of Roman soldiers by the government, or the payment of taxes to the government. This function was essentially separate from coinage’s function as a medium of exchange.43 In the everyday world of the Roman marketplace, the exchange function of money would have been served by aes coinage, the precise coinage that Rome appears to have neglected. In fact, Rome appears to have been uninterested in, or incapable of, supplying her conquests with sufficient small change to facilitate daily transactions. Nor did Rome create an aes coinage monopoly as she did for silver. This underlines the idea that Republican Rome used coinage as a medium to increase her own power and hegemony through the extraction of wealth from conquests and by financing her military force. The right to issue small change became one of the many honours Rome used to reward those loyal to her burgeoning Empire. Those cities whose favour with Rome was high enough to be awarded this privilege were able to compensate for a lack of Roman lower denominations by striking their own issues. But cities who did not win this honour needed to seek small change elsewhere. A well-known parallel to the situation in Southern Italy is the small change of Pompeii: a great percentage of the aes coin finds from the city are issues and imitations of the cities of Ebusus and Massalia, which circulated alongside ‘official’ Roman coins.44 Whatever the reason behind the production of these types, it is clear that the Romans did not control aes coinage circulation as tightly as they did coinage minted from precious metals.

At the Brettian settlement of Castiglione di Paludi, Brettian aes coins have been found alongside Roman issues, as well as in connection with those of the Latin colony Copia, which was founded in 193 BC.38 It was traditionally thought that Castiglione di Paludi was abandoned after the Roman defeat of the Bretti – most of the ceramics from the site have a dating horizon of the end of the third century. The second century coins of Copia, however, suggest that the site was still in partial use after the Brettian defeat, even if other sections of the site were abandoned.39 In what appears to have been a section of the settlement abandoned after the Second Punic War, only one coin of Copia was found, unusual given that these issues are among the most common on the site.40 Instead the coin finds from this section consisted largely of Brettian and Syracusan

IGCH 2037 contained two Republican denarii and an aes coin of Antoninus Pius, which were labelled ‘intrusive’, but given the continued acceptability of Brettian issues and other older aes coinage in this region, these pieces may well have been deposited together. 33 Visonà 1996-1997, 237-41; Visonà and Frey-Kupper 1998, 81-98; Costamagna and Visonà 1999, 372-91; Gargano 2009, 55-6 34 Gargano 2005, 87-9 35 Gargano 2005, 94 36 Gargano 2005, 95 37 Gargano 2001, 465-75. See also Gargano 2010, 3-8, a Hellenistic house in the region of Monasterace Marina, which had eight coins (four Brettian issues, one Locrian, one Rhegium and two Syracusan). Roman issues are absent. 38 Luppino, Parise et al. 1996, 9-45; Polosa 1999b, 91-7 39 Polosa 1999b, 92 40 Polosa 1999b, 92-6 32

Thus the Roman focus on coinage as a medium of payment, rather than as a medium of exchange, meant that communities in southern Italy and elsewhere had to seek alternative currencies. Aes coinage, as fiduciary money, often has its value underwritten by the state. But after

Polosa 1999a, 179-93 Luppino, Parise et al. 1996, 34-5 43 Polanyi 1977, 398-9; Moisseron 2002, 134-49 44 Stannard 2005, 120-4; Stannard and Frey-Kupper 2008, 351-404 41 42

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the Second Punic War in previously Brettian-controlled Southern Italy, it appears that aes coinage was instead given value by individuals at a local and/or private level, at least within certain regions. A coin whose authority had been defeated by another, like the Brettians, can only have value if both parties agree that it is a valid medium of exchange. Here the market, or forces outside the reigning government, was important in giving the coin its value. As Butcher has argued, states and elites may have acted as producers of value by restricting and controlling the legitimacy of coins, but at the same time local individuals and private pay communities may have been able to subvert these restrictions.45 The value structures surrounding the aes coinage of the Brettians altered after the Second Punic War, changing the coinage from a currency whose value was largely connected to the state, to a coinage whose value was determined at a local level. Of course, the coins in question were always simultaneously both a token of authority and a market object for transactions, but historical circumstances meant that one, then the other, aspect of coinage became privileged in the attribution of value.

The changing use of coinage in the area of Brettian control during and after the Second Punic War underlines the dual nature of money. A coin, being both a political and economic object, can exist within several value systems, with one or the other aspect of the coin emphasised at different periods. In this sense, a coin was an object which journeyed through repeated ‘tournaments of value’, with its worth being defined and re-defined in particular moments and contexts.48 The Second Punic War offered the opportunity for cities to rebel from Roman control. Those that did struck their own coinage, underlining the role of the medium as one that can declare hegemony and independence. The role of coinage within political power struggles is evident in Rome’s approach to currency. It is likely that Rome prevented cities such as Capua from striking their own coinage before Hannibal’s invasion. After the Second Punic War, Rome established a precious metal currency monopoly, and the right of others to strike aes coinage was only granted within a framework of alliance and dependence. During the war the coins of Rome and those of her enemies circulated in strictly separate spheres, in spite of the intrinsic value of the silver and gold these coins contained. Thus the value of these objects was created by the imagery they carried; these images were symbols of a political group that overrode intrinsic worth.

That the acceptability of Brettian coinage after the Second Punic War was restricted to a particular region and to agreements between particular individuals in this region is evident by the fact that the coinage is overstruck. This means that existing Brettian coins were struck with new designs and iconography, obliterating the original type. Several specimens of Brettian aes coinage were visibly overstruck by the mint of Rhegium, for example.46 The act of overstriking indicates that once a Brettian aes coin reached the region controlled by Rhegium, its value was no longer recognised, and the piece was converted into an object whose value underwritten by the state. Those Brettian coins that were overstruck shifted from pieces whose value was determined in local markets, to pieces whose value was determined by governmental authority. Rhegium, as a civitas foederata, was one of the few cities in the area that had permission to strike their own aes coinage, and this may have contributed to the failure to recognise the value of other, now obsolete, coin issues. The few hoards from this area also suggest that the chora of Rhegium almost exclusively used Rhegian aes coinage in the second century BC.47 This suggests that there was an inherent risk in the use of old Brettian coins (along with the other Greek issues still circulating); at some point, the value of the coin may not be recognised by the other party. Since both political and economic associations were at once apparent in a coin, as a coin moved throughout time and space, the ‘heads’ or the ‘tails’ aspect of the currency may have played a larger role in attributing value.

Roman victory in the war resulted in unrivalled Roman hegemony in Italy and throughout the broader Western Mediterranean. This power materialised itself in the creation of a Roman monetary system, in which Roman silver coinage replaced all local precious metal currency in Italy. This also meant the replacement of alternative ideologies – coins of other cities were converted into Roman pieces with Roman messages and ideology. At the same time, existing aes coinage in Brettian-controlled southern Italy, struck by the Bretti and other local powers, underwent a shift in valuation. No longer was the iconography of the coin key in determining value, but instead the object itself, a piece of metal that could serve in small-scale transactions, became important. The value of these pieces was likely not recognised at a governmental level (even if their existence was tacitly tolerated), and so the value of the coin was no longer largely politically determined, but instead determined in the market. The value of Brettian aes coins, the product of a now defeated power, was privately or socially constructed within private pay transactions in the region, in a system that stood in tension with the officially recognised monetary system. This meant that there was always the risk that the value of the object would not be recognised, a risk seen in the fact that most Brettian aes coins remained within a particular geographic region, and were overstruck when they entered

Butcher 2001-2002, 118; Wynne-Jones and Fleisher 2012, 26 Buttrey, Erim et al. 1989, 136 n.60 and 149 n. 414; HN Italy 2553, 2562; SNG ANS 793-7; SNG X Morcom 483, 485-6; CNG Mail Bid Sale 67, 22 Sept 2004, 199; Münzen & Medaillen Deutschland GmbH, Auction 21, 24 May 2007, 44 47 Trevisani 2002, 78-9 45 46

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Appadurai 1986, 21-2; Wynne-Jones and Fleisher 2012, 25

Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World Austin, M.M. and P. Vidal-Naquet. 1972. Economic and Social History of Ancient Greece: An Introduction. London, B.T. Batsford Ltd. Backhaus, J. G. 1999. Money and its economic and social functions: Simmel and European monetary integration. American Journal of Economics and Sociology 58, 1075-90. Breglia, L. 1948. La monetazione di Capua e il problema del denario. Rivista Numismatica 14, 3-8. Burnett, A. 1995. The unification of the monetary systems of the Roman West: accident or design? In J. Swaddling, S. Walker and P. Roberts (eds), Italy in Europe: Economic Relations 700 BC- AD 50, 313-20. London, British Museum Press. Butcher, K. 2001-2002. Small Change in Ancient Beirut (Berytus XLV-XLVI). Beirut, Faculty of Arts and Sciences, The American University of Beirut. Buttrey, T. 1979. Morgantina and the denarius. Numismatica e antichità classiche 8, 149-57. Buttrey, T., K. T. Erim, et al. 1989. Morgantina II: The Coins. Princeton, Princeton University Press. Caccamo Caltabiano, M. 1977. Una città del Sud tra Roma e Annibale. La monetazione di Petelia. Palermo, Editrice SOPHIA. Caccamo Caltabiano, M. 1995. Le rete relazione dei Brettii riflessa nel documento monetale. In G. de Sensi Sestito (ed.), I Brettii, tomo I: cultura, lingua e documentazione storico-archeologica, 153-83. Soveria Mannelli, Rubbettino. Carrocio, B. 2000. Immagini che ‘parlano’. Contributi numismatici alla ricostruzione della civiltà brettia. Atti della Accademia Peloritana dei Pericolanti. Classe di lettere, filosofia e belle arti 76, 247-60. Cesano, S. L. 1931. Citta’ S. Angelo - Ripostiglio di monete repubblicane romane. Notizie degli scavi di antichità 7, 615-37. Costamagna, L. and P. Visonà, (eds). 1999. Oppido Mamertina. Roma, Gangemi. Crawford, M. H. 1974. Roman Republican Coinage (2 vols). Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Crawford, M. H. 1982. Unofficial imitations and small change under the Roman Republic. Annali dell’Istituto Italiano di numismatica 29, 139-63. Crawford, M. H. 1985. Coinage and Money under the Roman Republic. London, Methuen. de Caro, S. B. and G. Devoto 1998. Ripostiglio di Belmonte Calabro. Analisi tecniche microscopiche, microchimiche e mineralogiche. In U. Peter (ed.), Stephanos Nomismatikos, 83-98. Berlin, Akademie Verlag. Frederiksen, M. W. 1959. Republican Capua: A social and economic study. Papers of the British School at Rome 27, 80-125. Fronda, M. P. 2007. Hegemony and rivalry: The revolt of Capua revisited. Phoenix 61, 83-108. Fronda, M. P. 2010. Between Rome and Carthage. Southern Italy during the Second Punic War. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press.

Rhegium. Here the political or ‘heads’ aspect of coinage again gained importance. The same coin was valued differently in different geographical regions. That the inhabitants of Bruttium felt the need to create value for old Greek aes coins is connected with the Roman attitude to money. Far from being a medium of exchange, the Roman emphasis on silver production and circulation suggests that the main purpose of the Roman monetary system was state payments. Roman aes coinage appears not to have been produced in high enough quantity to satisfy the daily needs of the cities under her control, resulting in a spate of unofficial mints, and the continued use of coinage whose authorities had long ceased to hold power.49 Cities and individuals had to create small change amongst themselves, taking obsolete or illicit coins and assigning them value within private exchange. The ironic result was that while the Romans used coinage as a means to declare their own hegemony and control, small change continued to carry the iconography and messages of those who had once dared to challenge Rome’s supremacy.

Bibliography Abbreviations: CH HN Italy IGCH RRC RRCH

Coin Hoards (1975-). K. Rutter (ed). 2001. Historia Numorum: Italy. London, British Museum Press. M. Thompson (ed.) 1973. Inventory of Greek Coin Hoards. New York, American Numismatic Society. M. Crawford. 1974. Roman Republican Coinage. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. M. Crawford, 1969. Roman Republican Coin Hoards.London, Royal Numismatic Society.

Appadurai, A. 1986. Introduction: commodities and the politics of value. In A. Appadurai (ed.), The Social Life of Things. Commodities in Cultural Perspective, 3-64. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Arslan, E. A. 1989. Monetazione aurea ed argentea dei Brettii. Milan, Edizioni ennerre. Arslan, E. A. 1996-97. Il ripostiglio di monete in bronzo di II secolo A.C. in via della Salute a Strongoli. Klearchos 149-56, 41-76. Attianese, P. 1980. Calabria Greca III. Santa Severina, De Luca Editore. There are about 117 groups of Republican aes imitations in Italy, indicating the scale of the problem of ‘small change’ in this period. See Crawford 1982, 139-41. 49

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C. Rowan, The value of coinage in the Second Punic War and after Gargano, G. 2001. I rinvenimenti monetali dallo scavo archeologico in proprietà Guarnaccia, Monasterace Marina (RC). In M. C. Parra (ed.), Kaulonía, Caulonia, Stilida (e oltre). Contributi storici, archeologici e topografici, I, 465-75. Pisa, Scuola normale superiore di Pisa. Gargano, G. 2005. La circolazione monetale nel territorio dei Tauriani: i dati dagli scavi archeologici. In R. Agostino (ed.), Gli Italici a sud del Mètauros, catalogo della mostra, 85-103. Reggio Calabria, Laruffa Editore. Gargano, G. 2009. Rinvenimenti di monete nel territorio di Oppido Mamertina. In R. Agostino (ed.), Sila Silva: ho drumós--hón Sílan kalousin : conoscenza e recupero nel Parco Nazionale d’Aspromonte, 55-8. Soveria Mannelli, Rubbettino. Gargano, G. 2010. Una «moneta di terracotta» dall’antica Caulonia. Schweizer Münzblätter 60, 3-8. Giard, J.-P. 1965. La monnaie de Capoue et le problème de la datation du denier romain. In Congresso internazionale di numismatica (Roma 11-16 settembre 1961), 235-60. Roma, Istituto Italiano di Numismatica. Graeber, D. 1996. Beads and money: notes toward a theory of wealth and power. American Ethnologist 23, 4-24. Graeber, D. 2001. Toward an Anthropological Theory of Value. New York, Palgrave Macmillan. Hart, K. 1986. Heads or tails? Two sides of a coin. Man 21, 637-56. Hersh, C. A. 1953. Overstrikes as evidence for the history of Roman Republican coinage. Numismatic Chronicle 13, 33-68. Howgego, C. 1993. The circulation of silver coins, models of the Roman economy, and the crisis of the third century AD: some numismatic evidence. In C.E. King and D.G. Wigg (eds), Coin Finds and Coin Use in the Roman World, 119-236. Berlin, Mann. Kroll, J. H. 2011. Minting for export: Athens, Aegina, and others. In T. Faucher, M.-C. Marcellesi and O. Picard (eds), Nomisma. La circulation monétaire dans le monde grec antique, 27-38. Athens, Ecole française d’Athènes. Lambek, M. 2001. The value of coins in a Sakalava polity: money, death, and historicty in Mahajanga, Madagascar. Comparative Studies in Society and History 43, 735-62. Le Rider, 1989. À propos d’un passage des Poroi de Xénophon: la question du change et les monnaies incuses d’Italie du Sud. In G. Le Rider, et al. (eds). Kraay-Mørkholm Essays. Numismatic Studies in Memory of C-M- Kraay and O. Mørkholm, 159-72, Louvain-la-Neuve, Inst. Supérieur d’Archéologie et d’Histoire de l’Art, Séminaire de Numismatique Marcel Hoc. Lockyear, K. 1999. Hoard structure and coin production in antiquity – an empirical investigation. Numismatic Chronicle 159, 215-45. Luppino, S., N. Parise, et al. 1996. Castiglione di Paludi: le monete. Annali dell’Istituto Italiano di numismatica 43, 9-45.

Marten, L. and N. C. Kula 2008. Meanings of money: national identity and the semantics of currency in Zambia and Tanzania. Journal of African Cultural Studies 20, 183-98. Moisseron, J.-Y. 2002. Money without exchange: theoretical considerations. In F. Adaman and P. Devine (eds), Economy and Society. Money, Capitalism and Transition, 134-49. Montréal, Black Rose Books. Moroni, G. 1968. Appunti su alcune monete di Capua. Rivista Italiana di Numismatica e Scienze Affini 70, 97-112. Novaco Lofaro, I. 1974-5. Ripostigli con monete Brettie. Annali dell’Istituto Italiano di numismatica 21-22, 49102. Parise, N. 1993. La monetazione dei Bretti. In Crotone e la sua storia tra IV e III secolo A.C., 187-96. Napoli, Arte Tipografica. Pfeiler, H. 1964. Die Münzprägung der Brettier. Jahrbuch für Numismatik und Geldgeschichte 14, 7-50. Polanyi, K. 1977. The semantics of money-uses. In J. L. Dolgin, D. S. Kemnitzer and D. M. Schneider (eds), Symbolic Anthropology: A Reader in the Study of Symbols and Meanings, 394-411. New York, Columbia University Press. Polosa, A. 1999a. Castiglione di Paludi (CS), campagne di scavo 1992-1995; Le monete. Annali dell’Istituto Italiano di Numismatica 46, 179-93. Polosa, A. 1999b. Castiglione di Paludi. Les monnaies: notes sur une discussion. Revue Belge de Numismatique et Sigillographie 145, 91-7. Reece, R. 1987. Coinage in Roman Britain. London, Seaby. Regling, K. 1921. Zur Münzprägung der Brettier. Janus. Arbeiten zur alten und byzantinischen Geschichte 1, 80-8. Scheu, F. 1961. Bronze coins of the Bruttians. Numismatic Chronicle 1, 51-66. Siciliano, A. 1995. Tesoretto monetale rinvenuto a Strongoli. In G. de Sensi Sestito (ed.), I Bretti, 185-96. Rossano, Rubbettino. Simmel, G. 1978. The Philosophy of Money. London, Routledge. Stannard, C. 2005. The monetary stock at Pompeii at the turn of the second and first centuries BC: pseudoEbusus and pseudo-Massalia. In P. G. Guzzo and M. P. Guidobaldi (eds), Nuove richerche archeologiche a Pompei ed Ercolano, 120-43. Naples, Electa Napoli. Stannard, C. and S. Frey-Kupper 2008. ‘Pseudomints’ and small change in Italy and Sicily in the late Republic. American Journal of Numismatics 20, 351-404. Taliercio Mensitieri, M. 1995. Aspetti e problemi della monetazione del koinon dei Brettii. In G. de Sensi Sestito (ed.), I Bretti, 127-51. Rossano, Rubbettino. Taliercio Mensitieri, M. 2004. Presenze monetali nel territorio di Temesa e di Terina. In Presenza e funzioni della moneta nelle chorai delle colonie greche dall’Iberia al Mar Nero, 195-217. Roma, Istituto Italiano di Numismatica.

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World Trevisani, S. S. 2002. Due ripostigli monetali nel museo nazionale di Reggio Calabria. Annali dell’Istituto Italiano di Numismatica 49, 35-104. Visonà, P. 1996-1997. Continuità di circolazione di moneta greca nell’ager Bruttius in epoca tardo repubblicana. Klearchos 28-39, 237-41. Visonà, P. and S. Frey-Kupper 1998. The romanization of the ager bruttius and the evidence of coin finds, part II. Revue Suisse de Numismatique 77, 81-98. von Reden, S. 2007. Money in Ptolemaic Egypt. From the Macedonian Conquest to the End of the Third Century BC. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Wynne-Jones, S. and J. Fleisher 2012. Coins in context: local economy, value and practice on the east African Swahili coast. Cambridge Archaeological Journal 22, 19-36.

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Votives and values: communicating with the supernatural Katherine M. Erdman

Through the offering of votives or other objects to supernatural powers, the dedicator can communicate different messages. As the physical characteristics or uses of objects are modified over time, the way they are perceived may change, thereby changing the messages they transmit. Object biographies explore the lives of objects from their creation to deposition and can illuminate the changing messages associated with them. Why are some objects chosen for deposition in sacred places while others are not? A detailed study of an assemblage from the Source of the Douix in eastern France has revealed that objects are carefully selected for deposition to communicate particular messages to the supernatural world. Depositional practices began in the Hallstatt Period and continued through to modern times. The present discussion focuses on the large quantities of coins, rings, and sculptures which were deposited during the Gallo-Roman Period. While the types of objects change over time, the message remains the same and is closely connected to the individual person who is trying to communicate with the supernatural world through a particular object. votive, watery places, Gallo-Roman, object biography, springs

Durch eine Opfergabe an die Götter, ein Votiv oder anderes Objekt, ist es dem Opfernden möglich, verschiedene Botschaften zu kommunizieren. So wie die physischen Charakteristika oder die Verwendung von Objekten im Lauf der Zeit Veränderungen unterliegen, kann sich auch die Wahrnehmung verändern und damit die verbundene Aussage. Objektbiographien beleuchten die Lebensspanne von solchen Objekten vom Zeitpunkt ihrer Entstehung bis zu ihrer Opferung und können so die Veränderung der mit ihnen verbundenen Aussagen aufdecken. Warum werden zum Beispiel manche Objekte zur Ablage an heiligen Orten ausgewählt, andere nicht? Die Untersuchung eines Fundkomplexes der Quelle La Douix im Osten Frankreichs hat ergeben, dass die dort abgelegten Objekte sorgfältig ausgewählt wurden, um bestimmte Botschaften an die Götterwelt zu übermitteln. Die Praxis der Ablage von Opfergaben in Depots setzte in der Hallstattzeit ein und bleibt bis in moderne Zeiten üblich. Die aktuelle Diskussion konzentriert sich auf die großen Mengen an Münzen, Ringen und Skulpturen, die in der gallo-römischen Zeit abgelegt wurden. Während die Objektart sich über die Zeit verändert, bleibt die Botschaft gleich und ist eng mit dem Individuum verbunden, das den Kontakt zur überirdischen Sphäre aufzunehmen versucht und sich zu diesem Zweck eines Objekts als Vermittler bedient. Votiv, Gewässer, gallo-römisch, Objektbiographie, Quellen

Introduction

objects from these deposits can help us reconstruct their object biographies and how their value shifted from their primary purpose to one worthy of ritual deposition. Such biographies, combined with close contextual studies of the site and assemblage, may explain why objects with different traditional functions are found together in ritual contexts. If we understand why certain objects are chosen for deposition, we can begin to ask what people were trying to communicate with the supernatural world, which may include deities, ancestors, and/or natural forces.

Artefacts are often classified as utilitarian according to their forms or traditional functions yet recent scholarship argues that form should not dictate their function, rather, their function should be based on the behaviours with which they were associated during their life histories.1 This approach is particularly beneficial to the study of ritual deposits because examining the physical characteristics of

Thank you to Félicie Fougère, curator at the Musée du Pays Châtillonnais - Trésor de Vix, for her hospitality and cooperation, and to Bruno Chaume at the Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, for introducing me to the Douix collection. Special thanks to Dr. Peter Wells, Dr. Peter Henrich, Reed Coil, Linda Chisholm, Kirsten Jenkins, Rebecca Slepkov, and Burton Smith who have all provided thoughtful feedback and reviews of this project. And thank you to Clare Rowan and Annabel Bokern for organising this interesting and diverse volume. Walker 1998; Walker 1999 1

Case study: the source of the Douix My study uses evidence recovered from a freshwater spring located in Châtillon-sur-Seine (Côte-d’or), France, to explore issues of communication with the supernatural.

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World The spring, known as the Source of the Douix, flows from the mouth of a cave located at the base of a limestone cliff (Figure 1). Surrounded today by a modern city park, the

cliff and spring are enclosed by tall trees and vegetation creating a cool, shady setting. Large boulders were added in the 19th century, about 35m west of the cave mouth, causing the spring water to form a small pool. To exit the pool, the water cascades over the boulders creating a short, artificial waterfall. After its descent, it forms a small stream for about 70m before connecting to the Seine River as it travels north (Figure 2). In the early 1990s, divers exploring the subterranean hydraulic system of the Douix noted the presence of material culture and alerted local archaeologists.2 A pump used for removing the water from the subterranean interior of the cave was unknowingly placed over a large collection of Hallstatt fibulae and some prehistoric ceramics, which were consequently pulled up by the machine. A variety of ancient and modern objects such as coins, jewellery, and sculptures, were recovered inside the cave from underneath the modern riverbed and preceding layers. Two test pits on the north and south sides of the cave revealed that a Gallo-Roman wall with a small central opening was constructed in front of the cave mouth to channel the spring water

Figure 1 Location of the Source of the Douix. (© Reed Coil)

Figure 2 Source of the Douix in Châtillon-sur-Seine, France. (© K. Erdman)

2

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Buvot 1994, 15-17

K. M. Erdman, Votives and values: communicating with the supernatural downstream.3 No temple or additional structures have been discovered near the spring to date.

quantity of votives representing various parts of the body.8 Other offerings, such as coins, iron tools, votive altars, and inscriptions naming the goddess Sequana, point to the ritual nature of the site.9 It is clear from the examples of other watery deposits that the assemblage from the Douix is part of a widespread phenomenon, and also that it has a unique set of objects that were used to communicate a particular message to the deity present at the spring.

The Douix assemblage is unambiguously ritual in context, based on Osborne’s (2004) assertion that such deposits are recognised by a particular selection pattern of deposited goods, such as the dominance of a single artefact type, the context where the objects were recovered, and similarities with other deposits where the context is clearly of a ritual nature.4 Using this protocol, I have identified these three categories from the Douix material.

Object biographies

First, several types of objects dominate the assemblage. Coins, rings, and sculptures make up a large percentage of the Gallo-Roman material from the Douix, and will be discussed in detail below. The same types of artefacts appear consistently during this period at the Douix. Deposition of the same object repeatedly in the same place cannot be accidental; it must point to ritual practice.5

Archaeology frequently primarily focuses on the relationship between people and the material world. Objects play an important role in people’s lives, but examining the actual handling and use of an object through its ‘life-span’ is only of recent interest to scholars.10 Studying the life of an object produces a life history, or an object biography, which examines the social role of the object in society, the process that gives it meaning.11 Kopytoff (1986) argues that to better understand the life histories of objects, we must ask questions of the object as we would to know a person better, such as what does it do or what is it used for, and how does its purpose change over time.12 In The Social Life of Things, Appadurai (1986) proposes that objects are transformed throughout their lives as they are exchanged, bought, and sold into and out of different contexts as commodities. The status and value of an object changes as it moves between these different contexts. An object’s meaning, or our perception of that object, is governed by the political or social circumstances surrounding the exchange. The movements between contexts make up the life history of an object. If particular changes occur often enough, the long-term understanding of an object is likely to change in kind.13 Gosden and Marshall (1999) suggest that in addition to time and exchange, spatial movement of objects out of their original society can also influence the life and understanding of an object as it is no longer in its original setting.14 Studying the context in which an object exists is essential to its archaeological interpretation.15 From its state as a raw material, its creation, its use, and its discard, an object undergoes various changes in its existence that can tell us more about the society which produced it and interacted with it. As archaeologists recover objects at the end of their social lives, it is necessary to work backward from the object’s death to its life and birth in order to create the object’s biography.16 It is important to note that an object’s death may not be permanent and that death may occur multiple times as it moves in and

Second, this ritual-based depositional context continues inside the cave of the spring, a location which is unlikely to be the result of anything other than ritual activity. Most of the objects were found towards the back of the cave, an area not easily accessible, deep in the water and could have only been put there by purposefully tossing them into this space. Accidental deposition is not possible as their location at the back of the cave is contrary to the natural water flow (i.e. water flows out of the cave) and thus they could not have been naturally deposited. Accidental deposition is also unlikely because the Gallo-Roman wall would have channelled the water out of the cave into a stronger stream from which people could easily access the water for drinking or cleaning. It would not be necessary to go into the cave to gather water, and therefore, a person was unlikely to lose objects inside the cave. It is also important to note that the Gallo-Roman objects recovered from the Douix are not associated with water gathering or washing. The objects have no connection to such tasks, making their presence unusual in this location in terms of utilitarian purposes. Finally, water veneration and deposits found in water are well-attested phenomena in temperate Europe beginning as far back as the Neolithic.6 Well-known examples, such as the swords from La Tène, weapons from the Thames, Saône, and Ljubljanica, and bodies deposited in the swamps and marshes of northern Europe, all speak to a widespread and long-term tradition of this practice.7 Veneration of watery places continued into the Gallo-Roman period, and incorporated a wide variety of material. The Source of the Seine, the best known example from France, has been identified as a healing sanctuary based on the large

Deyts 1983 Baudot 1845; Corot 1933 10 Appadurai 1986; Gosden and Marshall 1999 11 Gosden and Marshall 1999, 170; Joy 2009, 542 12 Kopytoff 1986, 66-7 13 Appadurai 1986, 36 14 Gosden and Marshall 1999, 169 15 Gosden and Marshall 1999, 174 16 Joy 2009, 543 8 9

Renard 1997, 69; Buvot 1998, 28 Osborne 2004, 4 5 Merrifield 1987, 22 6 Bradley 1990 7 See Vouga 1923; Navarro 1972 for La Tène; see Bonnamour 2000; York 2002; Gaspari 2003 for rivers; and Stead et al. 1986 for swamps and bogs. 3 4

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World out of new relationships and contexts demonstrating the non-linear path object biographies may follow.17 This is an important point when considering the presence of objects that have been discovered in contexts associated with ritual practices. The use of objects in ceremonial performances or ritual practices is another way of generating new meaning in object biographies.18 Displaying a particular object in a ritual setting may be enough to transform it from an ordinary object to one endowed with a sacred nature.19 In other situations, damaging or destroying an object not only transforms its physical form, but also how it is viewed by those witnessing this change.20 An object may become a source of power after several generations have passed simply because it is old or it has been rediscovered and reused in a new way.21 While some objects may be intended for ritual use from their creation, others become sacred through their deposition in a sacred place.22 The latter practice can be used to explain the presence of traditionally utilitarian objects deposited in contexts that are believed to be ritualistic. The quantities of objects discovered within the Douix also support the evidence that the spring was a sacred place utilised by the GalloRomans for ritual practices. Using the object biography approach, that is, considering the role of the objects prior to their deposition and the final context in which they were discovered, it is possible to learn more about the society and ritual practices of the Gallo-Romans from this area of Gaul.

Figure 3 Total number of objects by type dating to the Gallo-Roman period recovered from the Douix. (© K. Erdman)

the Douix, on the other hand, appear to have non-ritual or utilitarian functions. The variety of traditional functions represented by the objects recovered from the Douix has led me to ask: Why do objects with different life histories end up in the same ritual context? To address this question, I will examine the traditional functions of a few of these objects: the coins, rings, and sculptures.

The assemblage from the source of the Douix In 2011, I created a preliminary catalogue which contained 820 objects recovered from the Douix. The objects are currently housed at the Musée du Pays Châtillonnais Trésor de Vix and date from the Hallstatt period to modern times. Objects from several broad categories are present, and include: building materials, vessels, game pieces, clothing fasteners, coins, sculpture, and jewellery. These objects were made from a variety of materials such as limestone, bronze, iron, clay, glass, and bone. Most of the objects, with the exception of some of the sculptures, are small, portable items. For the present discussion, I shall focus primarily on the Gallo-Roman material, which is represented by 315 objects (Figure 3).

Coins The coins found in the Douix are heavily worn or corroded from the depositional environment. Of the 72 coins recovered from the Douix, 42 date from the end of the 1st century BC to the 4th century AD, representing the entirety of the Gallo-Roman period. There is at least one coin made from silver while the rest are bronze. None of the coins appear to have been treated in a special manner, e.g. bent, cut, punctured, or burned. Traditionally, coins were created for exchanging value between two or more persons. In addition to possessing monetary value, coins also served as vehicles of communication. Roman coinage depicted a profile of the ruling emperor or a member of his family and often had symbols of power, a special deity with whom they associated, or representations of well-known monuments on the reverse (Figure 4).24 With these particular images, coins became transportable and exchangeable vessels

Deposits from other watery sites, such as the Source of the Seine, often contain objects that appear to have been made solely for ritual, for example the large quantities of stone and metal votives of body parts.23 Most of the objects from Eckardt and Williams 2003, 142; Joy 2009, 543-4 Gosden and Marshall 1999, 174 19 Seip 1999, 277 20 York 2002, 90 21 Eckardt and Williams 2003, 157 22 Walker 1998, 249 17 18

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Figure 4 Heavily worn coin with the image of the emperor Hadrian (left), and a standing female figure (right). (© K. Erdman; Musée du Pays Châtillonnais - Trésor de Vix)

of propaganda which promoted the political or religious values of the ruling emperor.25 Though the exchange of value and ideas were the intended functions of coins, they were likely used in other ways as well.

they may be continuations of older traditions. In addition to their attested role as objects of propaganda and currency, it is entirely possible that coins could have been understood or used as religious symbols, souvenirs, jewellery or good luck charms during the Roman period.

In the medieval period across Europe, coins continued to be used for their monetary function as well as a means of spreading Christian propaganda. Perhaps as a residual practice from earlier Mediterranean cultures, coins were often deposited with the dead during Christian burial ceremonies.26 There is strong material and textual evidence for the use of coins as amulets, some of which were turned into jewellery to be worn for protection or good luck.27 Other contemporaneous uses include placement in foundation deposits, or the practice of hiding coins in the walls of structures and in the bow of a ship.28 It is believed that coins served as physical objects or souvenirs associated with a particular memory that a person could take with them or leave to commemorate their presence at a special place.29 In addition to these uses, coins were metal or bullion in a highly portable form, valuable in and of itself. While these examples come from a later period,

Rings There are 106 rings of different forms, predominantly earrings and finger rings, which were recovered from the Douix. The rings are primarily of bronze, though there are a few examples of iron. Many are heavily corroded like the coins. Twenty of the rings are too small or fragmentary to determine their exact form. Seventeen are completely closed forms with no visible ends indicating they were fused after completion or cast. Sixty-nine rings have visible ends. These rings are thinner, maybe cut strips of sheet bronze. Sometimes they are twisted into odd, ovoid shapes. It is possible that the bending of the metal was the result of the depositional environment, but it seems more likely that this occurred prior to deposition as part of the ritual process. Another possibility is that the thinner rings were strips or scraps of cut bronze that were used to make a quick symbolic ring, in other words one not worn in everyday life, but made exclusively for ritual deposition

King 1999 Hall 2012, 83 27 Hall 2012, 77 28 Hall 2012, 79 29 Hall 2012, 80 25 26

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World to simply represent a ring. This idea helps to explain the odd shapes and rough forms of the rings as they could have been made quickly by simply wrapping the metal around the finger for the approximate shape (Figure 5). The rings are undecorated with the exception of one, which has dual parallel zigzags around its length suggesting an earlier date of the Hallstatt period.

suggests a local rather than a foreign production of these objects.31 Most of the sculptures are naturalistic, while a few examples are very stylised and simply depict the basic shape of the subject (Figure 6). Of the 103 pieces of sculpture recovered from the Douix, 76 are unidentifiable fragments and 37 have clear subjects. Thirty-six are human forms and a fragment of a torch’s flame is also present. The human forms consist of 12 busts, two heads, five bodies and torsos, and 17 body parts which include fragments of faces, heads with details of hair, legs, and feet. The sexes and genders of the subjects are not always clear, but of those that are identifiable five are male, and twelve are female.

Figure 5 An example of a ring from the Douix that was likely twisted as part of the deposition ritual, or was a symbolic ring that was hastily made simply for deposition. (© K. Erdman; Musée du Pays Châtillonnais - Trésor de Vix)

Rings had multiple purposes as objects of personal ornamentation and as objects carrying symbolic significance. Finger rings were made to be worn and displayed on a person’s hand, and earrings were highly visible near a person’s face. These are prominent and visible positions on the body which are ideal locations for conveying information about the person wearing them. They may have signified marital status, social rank, and family connections, as they often have done in historic times and even today.30 In addition to their importance as symbolic objects and objects of adornment, some rings, such as signets, also had a practical purpose as a means of identifying an individual across great distances. There are no signet rings in the Douix collection, but the idea that a ring can be closely associated with, or can symbolically represent an individual’s identity is of importance for understanding their ritual deposition, which will be discussed below.

Figure 6 Example of a highly stylised, handheld sculpture from the Douix. (© K. Erdman; Musée du Pays Châtillonnais - Trésor de Vix)

The sculptures range in size from handheld, to larger forms that could be carried by an individual using both hands, to one very large sculpture which would have required multiple persons to move it. This large sculpture depicts a female figure holding a child in her arms, and was discovered near the Gallo-Roman wall.32 She may

Sculpture All of the sculptures from the Douix are carved from limestone. A locally available material, the limestone

31 30

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Figure 7 Identical sculptures of young girls with long hair in a more naturalistic depiction. (© K. Erdman; Musée du Pays Châtillonnais - Trésor de Vix)

represent the deity of the site, and therefore was not an offering, but rather was displayed as a focal point for ritual activity. It is likely that some of the busts were also made to be displayed. Though most of the busts are shaped completely on all sides to show the form of the subject, they are unfinished on their back sides, unlike the front which pays special attention to facial features, hair, and even indicates clothing. The emphasis on the front of the sculpture suggests they were meant to be viewed only from this angle. Perhaps then, like the large sculpture of the female and child, these sculptures were displayed at the site, on the Gallo-Roman wall, and were deposited sometime after they were offered, or after these ritual practices at the Douix ceased.33 Great attention is paid to the hair on the female busts and heads. Three of the females depicted, all of which are nearly identical in form, have long hair that reaches at least to their shoulders, and the hair around the crown of their heads is slightly curled or twisted (Figure 7). The other female busts have shorter hair, or maybe it is worn up (Figure 8). The curls or twists of the hair around the face and top of the head are also evident on the busts with shorter hair and are noted on some of the more fragmented head and face pieces. The backs of these busts are shaped, but unfinished, lacking additional details of the hair styles. Male busts and heads typically appear without any hair or their hair is depicted as simply an outline or border with no additional details.

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Figure 8 Sculpture of a woman with shorter hair and a deep engraving at the neck. (© K. Erdman; Musée du Pays Châtillonnais - Trésor de Vix)

Where the neck meets the body, most of the busts have evidence for deep engraving (refer again to Figure 8). Initially this appeared to be an attempt at indicating clothing, but upon closer inspection there are slight indentations on both the right and left sides of the neck where the engraving ceases; it creates a semi-circle when

Buvot 1998, 28

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World viewed from above (Figure 9). It is possible that the busts were adorned with metal necklaces that rested in this groove and fastened into the indentations on either side of the neck. Several objects initially catalogued as fragments of bracelets may in fact be the necklaces that were worn by the sculptures (Figure 10). Further analysis is needed to confirm this hypothesis.

in the home. If they were found in a domestic context, we could assume they were displayed and perhaps represented a member of the household. Like coins, sculptures have the ability to serve as objects of propaganda promoting particular ideas. The types of sculptures from the Douix do not appear to function in this way. To add to the ambiguity, they lack some of the characteristics of sculpture found at other sites of a ritual nature. There are no inscriptions on any of the sculptures from the Douix identifying the deity to whom they were offered, nor providing the name of the dedicator, unlike sculptures or votive altars found at other similar sites, such as the Source of the Seine.34 Despite their functional ambiguity, it is apparent that the sculptures do have a symbolic purpose as representations of either humans or deities.

Discussion By exploring potential paths an object may have taken during its life history, we can begin to understand how its value and meaning changed over time. The coins, rings, and sculptures were all created for specific functions. In addition to their intended purposes, they were often employed for secondary roles as well, such as conveying ideas, bringing good luck and protection, projecting information about an individual, and illustrating physical cultural norms. The contexts in which the objects were used or found represent just one part of their biography.

Figure 9 Detail of the sculpture from Figure 8 highlighting the deep groove and slight indentations on the right and left sides of the neck. It is possible this area was adorned with a semi-circular metal necklace, see Figure 10. (© K. Erdman; Musée du Pays Châtillonnais - Trésor de Vix)

In the case of the material from the Douix, if these objects were found in another location, their biography would be quite different. As these objects, all of which have a variety of traditional functions or intended purposes, were found in a ritual context, their story follows an additional path. It is evident that at some point after their creation, the value of these objects changed from functional to ceremonial. The actual process of transformation could have taken place in a variety of ways. The decision to deposit a particular object likely transformed the status of an object immediately in the eyes of the person depositing it in the Douix. An object may have been deemed a worthy offering due to its age or family connection. Showing an object to others, declaring its sacredness, and conceivably gaining their approval may be another way in which the object attained ritual value. The ritual itself, that is, the deposition of the object into the Douix, was how an object became endowed with a sacred status and was, therefore, no longer viewed as possessing its original function. It is clear there are various ways in which an object’s value may have changed from its primary role to one endowed with ritual importance. It is likely that several of these events took place in order to make an object worthy of deposition into the spring.

Figure 10 Metal fragments initially catalogued as ‘bracelets’ may actually be metal adornments for the necks of sculptures, see Figure 9. (© K. Erdman; Musée du Pays Châtillonnais - Trésor de Vix)

Unlike coins and rings, the function of sculptures remains ambiguous. I am unaware of other contexts outside of those associated with ritual, such as healing sanctuaries, in which sculptures similar to those from the Douix have been found. For this reason, I believe that these pieces were made solely for ritual practices, but it is possible they were used elsewhere prior to their deposition, such as on display

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K. M. Erdman, Votives and values: communicating with the supernatural An individual’s decision to deposit a particular item is critical to this process. Before addressing why certain objects are given as offerings, it is necessary to explore why people offer objects at all. Giving a physical object to maintain a relationship is a common practice in societies.35 It seems natural then that this practice should extend into maintaining relationships between people, deities, ancestors, and natural forces. Tangible objects provide focal points for the ritual activities. They also represent a physical loss of something owned by the giver, reflecting their sincerity in the exchange and their need for something to fill the loss. Deposition of objects into a particular area provides a space for remembering the exchange and creates a meeting point for future transactions to take place. And finally, physical objects give substance to something that can be a feeling, a mood, or an idea. By giving the object that represents these ideas, one can communicate with the unknown. 36

What does it mean to select offerings that depicted or were close to the human body for ritual deposition? What did people hope to communicate by giving these items? I propose that by offering an object that either literally depicted the human form or one that was physically associated with the body, the person offering the object was trying to communicate his or her identity directly to the supernatural. When looking at a gift one has received, people are often reminded of the giver. A physical thing is more difficult to ignore than spoken words. An offering to a deity or ancestor could thus be a reminder to the supernatural entity that he or she engaged in some form of exchange with a person, and since the object was either closely associated with the dedicator or was an image of a human, the deity was reminded of who specifically dedicated the object. This process would, theoretically, increase the effectiveness of the offering if the giver could be recognised by the deity. By giving such identifying objects, a person is attempting to be more proactive and to have more control over the unknown.39

Objects as vessels of communication may explain why some objects are chosen for deposition in sacred spaces while others are not represented. Why were coins, rings, and sculptures selected as worthy offerings? The common elements between these items are their portable size and their close association or connection with the human body. At the outset, it might seem that portability and association with a person meant they were simply convenient objects for deposition, however, the role of the dedicator is significant here as he or she chose these objects over others that could satisfy those criteria. First, both the sculpture and the coins contain anthropomorphic representations. The sculptures, predominantly the busts, seem to represent groups of individuals of different ages. The profiles on the coins are certainly of specific people who are often named. This is not to say that the emperors personally dedicated coins with their likeness, but maybe someone offered these for the good of the emperor,37 or perhaps the fact that they possessed a human image was important. Depictions of the human form, whether simply a body part, part of a face, or a complete bust, are evident in both the coins and sculpture. Secondly, the coins and the rings are objects proximate with the body. The rings, along with the other types of personal ornamentation, were displayed and worn on the body. As mentioned above, these can sometimes project information about an individual and, therefore, can be closely connected to them. Coins, while probably not visible unless they were worn as jewellery or incorporated into accessories, would probably have been held close to the body in clothing or special pouches, or held in a person’s hand.38 Whether worn or carried, these objects were in close, physical contact with a person prior to their deposition.

Being recognised by the supernatural entity implies something else – that the giver and the deity can have a more direct relationship and form of communication. In traditional Roman state cults, there were typically limited opportunities for an individual to interact directly with a deity as ritual practices were often led by the elite or there were intermediaries present in some form.40 Also in traditional Roman cult, there were prescribed rules one needed to follow for ritual practices. Maybe what we see at the Douix is a rejection of some of these ideas in favour of traditional local practices. The Hallstatt period is strongly represented in the assemblage from the Douix. Several hundred bronze fibulae and most of the ceramics date to this period, demonstrating that the site was revered in earlier periods. Fibulae, like the rings and possibly the coins, could have been worn by an individual. The same principle applies to the fibulae as to the coins, rings, and sculptures: an object was chosen as an offering because it was closely connected with an individual. Maybe it was not unusual in this period for a person to have direct communication with his or her gods and he or she did it by offering personal objects to identify themselves. It is conceivable that the Gallo-Roman material from the Douix represents a continuation of traditional practices and ideals, but through new forms of material culture.

Conclusion Employing object biographies provides the opportunity to explore objects lacking a written history and may also explain why objects with different biographies end up in the same ritual context. By examining the physical characteristics of offered objects and the context in which

Mauss 1923 Venbrux 2007, 124 37 Beard et al. 1998, 325 38 Hall 2012, 82 35 36

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World Bradley, R. 1990. The Passage of Arms: An Archaeological Analysis of Prehistoric Hoards and Votive Deposits. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Buvot, P. 1994. La Douix et les spéléologues. Bulletin archéologique et historique du Chatillonnais 7, 15-17. Buvot, P. 1998. Découverte d’un lieu de culte antique : la source de la Douix à Châtillon-sur-Seine. Archeologia 344, 26-33. Corot, H. 1933. Les bronzes d’art des Sources de la Seine. Mémoires de la Commission des antiquités du département de la Côte-d’Or 20, 107-20. Deyts, S. 1983. Les bois sculptés des sources de la Seine. Paris, Éditions du Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique. Eckardt, H. and H. Williams 2003. Objects without a past? The use of Roman objects in early Anglo-Saxon graves. In H. Williams (ed.), Archaeologies of Remembrance: Death and Memory in Past Societies, 141-70. New York, Kluwer Academic. Fishwick, D. 1999. Coinage and cult: the provincial monuments at Lugdunum, Tarraco, and Emerita. In G. M. Paul and M. Ierardi (eds), Roman Coins and Public Life under the Empire, E. Togo Salmon Papers II, 95121. Ann Arbor, The University of Michigan Press. Gaspari, A. 2003. Archaeology of the Ljubljanica River (Slovenia): early underwater investigations and some current issues. The International Journal of Nautical Archaeology 32, 42-52. Gosden, Ch. and Y. Marshall 1999. The cultural biography of objects. World Archaeology 31, 169-78. Hall, M. A. 2012. Money isn’t everything: the cultural life of coins in the medieval burgh of Perth, Scotland. Journal of Social Archaeology 12, 72-91. Joy, J. 2009. Reinvigorating object biography: reproducing the drama of object lives. World Archaeology 41, 54056. King, C. E. 1999. Roman portraiture: images of power? In G. M. Paul and M. Ierardi (eds), Roman Coins and Public Life under the Empire, E. Togo Salmon Papers II, 123-36. Ann Arbor, The University of Michigan Press. Kopytoff, I. 1986. The cultural biography of things: commoditization as process. In A. Appadurai (ed.), The Social Life of Things, 64-91. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Kunz, G. F. 1917. Rings for the Finger. New York, Dover Publications, Inc. Mauss, M. 1923. The Gift: Forms and Functions of Exchange in Archaic Societies [1967], I. Gunnison (trans.). New York, W. W. Norton and Company Inc. Merrifield, R. 1987. The Archaeology of Ritual and Magic. New York, New Amsterdam Books. Navarro, J. M. de 1972. The Finds from the Site of La Tène. London and New York, Oxford University Press. Osborne, R. 2004. Hoards, votives, offerings: the archaeology of the dedicated object. World Archaeology 36, 1-10.

they are located, it is possible to gain a better understanding of the ritual practices and religious beliefs of the GalloRomans. Objects with different traditional functions were transformed into valuable offerings for ritual practice at the Source of the Douix, during which they became part of an exchange system between the human and supernatural worlds. In addition to representing an individual in ritual practices, these objects were items of value in traditional exchange systems. The deposition of such valued materials was a direct loss of physical value in the human world. An individual took something that had worth in traditional exchange systems and removed it from his or her life, which would appear to make him or her monetarily poorer. In fact, this was actually an investment, so to speak, by the human participant. Through the loss of physical wealth that was then gained by the deity during deposition, the person who offered the object gained intangible value in the supernatural world instead. The reason for this exchange with the deity probably varied from requests, thanks, or simply maintaining divine balance, but the desired outcome was the same: some sort of intangible value that only the deity could provide. Why do objects with different life histories end up in the same ritual context? In the case of the objects from the Douix, it appears that the deposited objects were chosen because they were portable, but more importantly, because they represented the person offering the item either in an actual human form, as visible with the sculptures, or symbolically, as with the rings and coins which were owned or carried by an individual. The fact that these objects were probably personal property likely owned by an individual or family implies a more direct role in ritual practice which may represent a continuation of local traditions. The individual interacted in a more direct way with the deity in the form of an exchange. Though the participant lost material wealth, they invested in supernatural benevolence, which may, in fact, have had a greater return in their future.

Bibliography Appadurai, A. 1986. Introduction: commodities and the politics of value. In A. Appadurai (ed.), The Social Life of Things, 3-64. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Baudot, H. 1845. Rapport sur les découvertes archéologiques faites aux Sources de la Seine. Mémoires de la Commission des antiquités du département de la Côte-d’Or 2, 1-50. Beard, M., North, J., and S. Price 1998. Religions of Rome, Vol. I: A History. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Bonnamour, L. 2000. Archéologie de la Saône: 150 ans de recherches. Paris, Editions Errance.

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K. M. Erdman, Votives and values: communicating with the supernatural Renard, E. 1997. De nouvelles découvertes dans la Douix de Châtillon. Bulletin archéologique et historique du Chatillonnais 10, 69-71. Seip, L. P. 1999. Transformations of meaning: the life history of a Nuxalk mask. World Archaeology 31, 27287. Stead, I. M., Bourke, J. B., and D. Brothwell 1986. Lindow Man: The Body in the Bog. Ithaca, Cornell University Press. Venbrux, E. 2007. Ritual communication with the dead, deities and unseen others: throwing coins, rings and other valuable objects into the water. Cosmos 23, 12335. Vouga, P. 1923. La Tène, monographie de la station. Leipzig, K. W. Hiersemann. Walker, W. H. 1998. Where are the witches of prehistory? Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory 5, 245308. Walker, W. H. 1999. Ritual, life histories, and the afterlives of people and things. Journal of the Southwest 41, 383405. York, J. 2002. The life cycle of bronze age metalwork from the Thames. Oxford Journal of Archaeology 21, 77-92.

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The real value of fake The curious case of cubiculum 34 in the House of Sallust (Pompeii VI 2, 4) Suzanne van de Liefvoort

From a modern point of view, imitation has always been regarded as being inferior to ‘the real deal’ in the realm of art. This perception is often regarded as valid for the Roman world as well, with little consideration of the material remains in question. The analysis of a specific context in Pompeii in which both real and painted marble were used to decorate the walls of one room offers a new perspective on the Roman appreciation of authenticity in art. Key in this matter is the perception of art as a whole. The Romans did not value art on the basis of its authenticity per se, but on its ability to evoke a message particularly designed for a specific context. art, authenticity, marble, wall painting, context, viewer, visibility, message

Aus heutiger Sicht sind Imitationen immer von geringerem Wert als das wirklich ‚Echte‘. Diese Bewertung wird rückblickend meist auch auf die römische Welt übertragen, allerdings dabei die materielle Hinterlassenschaft nur wenig berücksichtigt. Die Untersuchung eines spezifischen Kontext in Pompeji, bei dem sowohl echter als auch gemalter Marmor für die Wanddekorationen eines Raumes eingesetzt wurde, eröffnet eine neue Sicht auf die Wertschätzung der Authentizität von Kunst in der römischen Zeit. Der Schlüssel zu diesem Thema ist die Wahrnehmung von Kunst per se. Die Römer bewerteten Kunst nicht ausschließlich in Bezug auf ihre Echtheit, sondern vielmehr hinsichtlich ihres Vermögens, eine Botschaft innerhalb eines bestimmten Kontextes zu evozieren. Kunst, Echtheit, Marmor, Wandmalerei, Kontext, Betrachter, Sichtbarkeit, Botschaft

Introduction The contrast between real and fake has been the subject of a lively debate in the realm of art.1 The term ‘real’ (i.e. ‘authentic’) is often employed when art is produced by a celebrated artist or, in the case of ancient artefacts, when it originates with certainty from a specific site or period. The pejorative term ‘fake’ (i.e. ‘non-authentic’) is used to refer to samples of art that are based on authentic works, but are in reality only copies or imitations. Thus, our understanding of the difference between real and fake is subject to modern evaluations of art: namely that authentic art is considered to be of a higher value than non-authentic

This article is part of my PhD project entitled ‘On Authenticity in Roman Domestic Art’. It is based on a paper I presented at the international workshop ‘Momente der Transformation’, organised by the research training group ‘Wert und Äquivalent’ of the Goethe-Universität (Frankfurt am Main). I would like to thank Alexandra Barb and Martin Hensler for organising this workshop, Annabel Bokern and Clare Rowan for the co-ordination of the workshop’s proceedings, and Claire Stocks for the correction of my English. Any remaining mistakes are my own. 1

art. The assigned value makes authentic art expensive and suitable as a status symbol, whereas non-authentic art remains rather uninteresting and of marginal importance. Research done by a team of scientists from the University of Oxford has shown that the varying perceptions of authentic and non-authentic could be ‘seen’ in scans of the human brain.2 This phenomenon was discovered when two groups of test subjects were asked to look at a painting supposedly created by Rembrandt. Before the painting was shown to the participants, the two groups were given contrasting pieces of information. The first group was told that the painting was authentic; the second group was told that it was a copy. Whilst all the test subjects were looking at the painting, their brains were scanned. Comparison of these scans showed a clear difference between the groups. The scientists attributed this difference to the prior notice the two groups had been given concerning

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Huang, Bridge, Kemp and Parker 2011, 134

Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World the (non-)authenticity of the painting, and so concluded that information about authenticity influences the way in which we perceive art. Appreciating art on the basis of its authentic nature or conversely denigrating art that we perceive as nonauthentic is modern behaviour that has its roots in early Romanticism.3 This Romantic way of looking at art has heavily influenced modern interpretations of Greek and especially Roman art, despite the many centuries that separate Romanticism from the ancient world. Early Romanticism saw the birth of the so-called Kopienkritik, a theory that considered Roman works of art to be slavish copies of Greek originals, whose value could only be estimated on the basis of the exactitude of the copy.4 Over the years, this somewhat radical view on Roman art has become moderated and recent theoretical approaches focus increasingly on the way the Romans appropriated certain aspects of Greek (and other) art forms and on the pieces of art that were commissioned for a specific purpose or context.5 This more moderate view, however, still implies an exemplary, and therefore a more valuable, role for authentic art. To a large extent it is unclear how the Romans themselves treated their art, both in relation to Greek art and within its own spectrum, or whether they placed any value on authenticity in art. Scholars have taken an increased interest in this topic in recent years and over the last few decades archaeological and art-historical research has tried to capture the Roman experience of art by studying it in its original context. In the realm of domestic art research has expanded enormously, especially after the publication of Andrew Wallace-Hadrill’s study on the social structure of the Roman house.6 Many of these new studies derive from extant ancient literary sources.7 In general, however, these studies pay little or no attention to the contrast between authentic and non-authentic decorations. The issue of authenticity in art occurs almost exclusively in modern treatises on Roman luxury. In these instances authenticity is posed as a component of real luxury, which was reserved for the Roman elite. Lower social classes were only able to create luxury by imitating the elite fashion trends at a low cost.8 Shelley Hales advocates this all-pervading view in a somewhat controversial fashion by stating that ‘whilst the Roman super elite, who invent new fashion trends, use them to their socio-political advantage, those of lower status who imitate them are happy to exist

merely as pale imitations of their betters’.9 This quotation clearly demonstrates the abovementioned (modern!) way of thinking that authentic objects are more expensive and valuable than their imitations. It is in my opinion precisely this repeated unreserved application of modern thought with respect to ancient material culture that stands in the way of an objective treatment of the ancient approach to art and the role of authenticity therein.

Marble and marble imitation in Roman domestic decoration If authenticity is the issue at stake in modern treatises on luxurious forms of Roman domestic art, one of the most conspicuous media usually cited is marble. Marble is found in the private sphere of the Romans from the beginning of the first century BC.10 At first, marble was repudiated as a means of decoration.11 In due course, however, it became more acceptable and the marble trade began to flourish. The material data that have been handed down to us from antiquity show that marble was mainly used for sculpture and the veneer of walls and floors.12 Long before real marble was introduced into the realm of Roman domestic decoration, painted marble imitation had already made an appearance. Vitruvius tells us that wall painting as a phenomenon in the Roman world had come into being when the antiqui (‘the ancients’) had begun to paint plaster in imitation of brightly-coloured marble slabs.13 The subject matter of Roman wall painting changed over the course of the next decades, but the imitation of marble remained a substantial part of almost all stylistic phases. It was particularly noticeable again in the so-called fourth Pompeian style, where the dadoes of many walls were adorned with the spectacular imitation of exotic types of marble (Figure 1). The well-preserved houses of cities like Pompeii and Herculaneum show that marble and marble imitation had been a rising means of decoration throughout the late Republic and early Empire.14 One of the most striking examples of marble decoration can be found in the large dining room of the House of the Telephos Relief in Herculaneum, where floors as well as walls have been covered with a veneer of various types of real

Hales 2003, 137 (emphasis is mine) Jongste 1995, 30 The repudiation of marble and all other luxurious means was fixed in the leges sumptuariae. 12 Jongste 1995, 108 13 Vitruvius De Architectura, VII.5.1. August Mau has described this early style of wall painting as the ‘first Pompeian style’, which is still a valid designation (see Mau 1882). 14 Earlier (unpublished) research by the author has shown that there are approximately 65 examples of painted marble dadoes and 10 examples of real marble dadoes in Pompeii alone. The amount of marble floors and floors in which marble is incorporated in other ways (for instance as an emblem) is even higher. 9

10

Gazda 2002, 2 n.4 Gazda 2002, 5 5 Gazda 2002, 10; Wallace-Hadrill 2008, 26-8 6 Wallace-Hadrill 1988. See also (amongst others) Clarke 1991; Smith 1997; and Hales 2003. 7 For example the influential study Art and the Roman viewer by Jaś Elsner, which begins with an analysis of Roman art with ‘ways of viewing’ gathered from authors such as Philostratus, Vitruvius and Pausanias (Elsner, 1995, 15-155). 8 The idea that luxury spreads socially through imitation is already found in many ancient texts (Wallace-Hadrill 1994, 143). 3 4

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S. van de Liefvoort, The real value of fake

Figure 1 Painted marble dado in the House of Apollo (photo: author).

Figure 3 Household shrine in the Villa San Marco (photo: Stephan Mols).

on the other hand may have been reserved for the less important rooms, such as those where family members or political protégés (clientes) spent their time. However, this hypothesis does not survive long if we take a closer look at the exact location of painted marble wall decoration. Such decoration is usually found in dining rooms, which were predominantly used for the reception of well-to-do and highly placed guests.15

Figure 2 Dining room in the House of the Telephos Relief (photo: author).

marble (Figure 2). When we consider the painted marble panels from the Campanian area, we see a considerable improvement in quality over the years. At their peak (i.e. the period of the fourth Pompeian style) painted marble panels were hard to distinguish from real ones. An extraordinary example of painted marble decoration can be found in the so-called Villa San Marco in Stabiae, where an enormous household shrine was decorated this way (Figure 3). With the many examples of real and painted marble decoration in mind it is interesting to note that a combination of both in fact occurs in several houses, but rarely in the context of the same room. If we give consideration to the main observation made at the beginning of this paper, namely that we value authentic art more highly than non-authentic art, we may formulate the hypothesis that real marble was used to decorate the more important rooms of a Roman house. These are the rooms where the house owner received his personal guests, such as political associates and close friends. Painted marble

So what is the relation between authentic and nonauthentic decoration in domestic contexts? Is it a matter of high versus low appraisal, or is authenticity only in our modern way of thinking a criterion for the high evaluation of a work of art? In the remainder of this article I will present a peculiar case study in which both authentic and non-authentic decorations are used alongside each other in the same context. It concerns the marble and painted marble panels that decorate the lower wall zones of room 34 in the House of Sallust (Pompeii VI 2, 4).16 I will analyse the decorations in their spatial context (both within room 34 itself and in the broader context of (part of) the house) in order to explore their visibility and the possible presence of a decorative hierarchy. In executing such a detailed study, I hope to say something about the way in which the Romans appreciated authentic and nonauthentic decoration without the influence of modern-day thinking with respect to authenticity in art.

Room 34 in the House of Sallust (Pompeii VI 2, 4) The House of Sallust is situated in the western part of Pompeii and takes up about a quarter of an entire block. It was named after one of the electoral graffiti found on

Consider the locations of painted marble panels in, for instance, the House of Apollo (VI 7, 23), the House of the Ancient Hunt (VII 4, 48), and the House of Octavius Quartio (II 2, 2). 16 I follow the numbering of rooms as given by PPM IV 87. 17 CIL IV 104 (C· SALLVSTIVM) 15

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World its façade.17 Nowadays the House of Sallust is particularly famous for its spectacular wall paintings in the so-called First Pompeian Style.18 The earliest building phase dates probably from the second century BC.19 It shows the ‘typical ground plan’ of a Roman atrium house.20 The house with its characteristic cluster of rooms (fauces, atrium, tablinum, triclinium, cubicula and alae) is surrounded by a garden area on the north, east, and south sides (Figure 4).21 The west side originally consisted of six (work)shops (tabernae) and directly bordered the Via Consolare.22 The second building phase included the renovation and enlargement of the indoor area, both of which took place at the end of the first century BC (Figure 5).23 The garden was reduced to the east side of the house but was at the same time embellished with a permanent (stone) triclinium and a portico. The rest of the former garden area was covered and converted into rooms related to the tabernae and the newly installed thermopolium, like the cistern (north side of the house), and into various living rooms (south side).24 The renovation can most likely be connected to a change in function of the house. Several scholars have argued that from the end of the first century BC onwards, the House of Sallust served as an inn.25 This caused the house owner to divide his property into clearcut parts, some of which had a public, and others a private, character.26 The greatest part of the house seems heavily connected to the commercial rooms alongside the street, but the living rooms in the southern part of the house, as well as the renewed garden area, have an obviously private character. We will concentrate on one of the private living rooms (room 34; see Figure 5).

Figure 4 First building phase (after Gros 2001, 41).

Room 34 is located directly across from the only entrance to this private part of the house. It borders a large reception room (triclinium) and a garden area. The room can be physically entered through a door in the north wall and This style is the earliest of four main trends in pictorial decoration in Pompeii (cf. Mau 1882; elaborated by Laidlaw 1985). The fact that they were not replaced by new styles that had come into fashion at the time of the renovation of the House of Sallust (see below) points at their (social) status. Another Pompeian house in which paintings from the First Styleperiod were left intact up until AD 79 is the famous House of the Faun (VI 12, 2). 19 Traditionally, the House of Sallust has always been dated to the late fourth or early third century BC, but more recent stratigraphical soundings point to a slightly later date. See Gros 2001, 40; and Laidlaw 1985, 118. 20 Traditionally, Vitruvius De Architectura, VI.3-5 is used as the predominant description of a ‘typical Roman atrium house’. Ironically, Vitruvius is precisely the author who claims that there is no such thing as a ‘standard’ in house-building (De Haan and Mols 2006, 291). 21 There is almost no information available about the upper storeys of this house, with the exception of some finds listed in the excavation reports (see for example PAH I.2, p. 79). 22 It is possible that some or all of these tabernae were run by people who rented them from the owner of the House of Sallust. This might be true especially of the tabernae that were not directly connected to the house through a passageway. 23 Laidlaw 1985, 118-21; Pesando and Guidobaldi 2006, 170; PPM IV 88 24 The cistern probably also served the small fountain in the garden area. 25 Especially DeFelice 2007, 477; and Jashemski 1964, 339-43. 26 For the extensive discussion on the terms ‘public’ and ‘private’ in domestic contexts, see, among others, Wallace-Hadrill 1994, passim (particularly chapter two, pp. 17-37). 18

Figure 5 Second building phase (after Gros 2001, 41).

a large window in the east wall provides visual access from the garden peristyle. Despite the small dimensions of the room (approximately 2.6m x 2.6m) both the floor and the walls have eye-catching decorations.27 The floor is lavishly decorated with a well-preserved pavement of coloured marbles in opus sectile. The decoration of the walls is in a less favourable condition, with the exception of the south wall. Here, a painting in the Fourth Style can I have extracted the measurements of the room from the plan printed in Gros 2001, 41. 27

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S. van de Liefvoort, The real value of fake decorations may, therefore, provide us with an exclusive insight into ‘the real value of fake’ in Roman domestic decoration. A prerequisite for such an analysis to prove useful in enhancing our understanding of Roman views of authenticity, however, is that both the real and the painted marble decorations had to have been equally visible to the viewer. At first glance all of the decorations in the lower wall zones of room 34 seem to have been visible from either the physical or the visual entrance. From the door there is a direct sightline to especially the painted marble dado of the south wall, whereas the window in the east wall provides visual access to both the painted and the genuine marble panels on the south, north, and especially the west walls. Figure 6 Scene with Mars and Venus from south wall painting (photo: author)

be recognised, of which the middle zone is divided into three vertical panels with a red background. The central panel reveals a relatively small scene featuring Paris and Helen, whereas both side panels are adorned with couples of amorini. The upper-wall zone is less well-preserved, but the light-coloured centrepiece containing a scene with Mars and Venus is still recognisable (Figure 6). The paintings of the west wall are badly deteriorated. A red background colour is still traceable in the middle zone, which suggests a similar decoration to that preserved on the south wall. This is confirmed by the fact that amorini are present here as well.28 The upper part of the west wall most likely did not hold a figurative painting, since it accommodates a niche in which several small objects were found, such as a statuette, some bronze receptacles and a small golden jar.29 The north wall with the door only shows traces of red paint, which suggests a continuation of the wall decoration mentioned above. Information about the paintings on the east wall is non-existent, but it is reasonable to assume that the background colour was red and that there were no significant figurative panels here because this wall held the large window overlooking the adjacent peristyle and garden area. The lower parts of all the walls are the reason this room is our prime point of interest here. Some of the dadoes are decorated with real marble panels (north wall and the northern parts of the east and west wall), while the others are endowed with painted versions thereof (southern parts of the east and west wall and the entire south wall). To my knowledge, this is the only example discovered to date where real and painted marbles are combined in the wall decorations of one room. A thorough analysis of these

However, the visibility of all these decorations simultaneously is only possible when we consider room 34 to be devoid of any furniture and, consequently, without a clear function. This seems illogical if we take into account the amount of money spent on the luxurious decoration on the walls and floor. If we are able to identify the function of this room by means of, for instance, the discovery of signs of furniture, we could gain a better understanding of the degree of visibility of the genuine and painted marble panels.

Dadoes in context Modern sources usually identify room 34 as a cubiculum on the basis of its layout.30 According to the Roman architect Vitruvius, who wrote a chapter on the structure of the Roman house as part of his treatise on architecture, a cubiculum was a private room that ought to have an eastern exposure, since the activities in this room required the morning light.31 This description has led many scholars to identify the cubiculum in general as the Roman equivalent of our modern-day bedroom. Room 34 corresponds entirely to the description: it is located in a private part of the house and its window has an eastward orientation, which ensures the incidence of light in the morning hours. Vitruvius also tells us that a cubiculum was a room inaccessible to outsiders unless someone was explicitly invited in by the house owner.32 This detail leads to other possibilities than ‘bedroom’ for the interpretation of a cubiculum. The luxurious and refined decoration usually found in cubicula, together with remarks made by other Roman authors, such as Suetonius, Tacitus, and Seneca, give us a better insight into the many ways such rooms could be used in antiquity.33 All of these other possibilities point to the practice of using a cubiculum as a reception Pesando and Guidobaldi 2006, 171; PPM IV 88, 137ff Vitruvius De Architectura VI.4.1 Vitruvius De Architectura VI.5.1 (cf. note 6). 33 Seneca De Ira 3.8.6 (eating); Suetonius Vespasianus 21 (sleeping, reading); Tacitus Dialogus de Oratoribus 3.1, 14.1 (reading, receiving guests). See also Dickmann 1999, 27. 30 31

PPM IV 144 The precise function of this niche is unclear. It might have served as a small depository or as container of a light source. 28 29

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World room for a small group of guests, in addition to its use as a bedroom.34 So room 34 might have been a bedroom, but it could just as well have served as a private reception room. For our research on the visibility of the lower wall zones it is not necessary to find out the exact function of this room in greater detail, because both options (bedroom and reception room) presuppose the presence of furniture. Roman furniture was usually made of wood, combined with metal elements.35 The archaeological record of Pompeii does not contain any remains of wood.36 However, the metal pins inside the wooden legs of all kinds of furniture left signs of wear that are nowadays clearly visible in mosaic and marble floors.37 These signs of wear provide the best evidence to substantiate the supposed presence of furniture in a Pompeian house. Whilst I have not yet been able to carry out an on-site search in cubiculum 34 for such signs of wear, much information concerning the presence or absence of furniture could be gleaned from the lay-out and measurements of the room. The small surface area reveals immediately that there would have been no room for large, or many, pieces of furniture. If this room had functioned as a bedroom, there would have only been space to place a single bed. The size of beds was standardised in Pompeii and Herculaneum: they measured approximately 2.15m in length and 1.15m in width.38 As we have seen, room 34 measures approximately 2.6m x 2.6m, allowing just enough space for one of these beds. In my opinion, however, cubiculum 34 would have presented too many inconveniences to anyone wishing to place a bed there. The north wall can immediately be dismissed as a possible location for a bed, since this is where the physical entrance to the room is located. Placing a bed against either the east or the west wall causes problems as well. The bed’s width would have been approximately 1.15m, whereas the door is placed approximately 0.6m from each wall (with a width of approximately 1.8m). Thus regardless of whether the bed would have been placed against the east or the west wall, it would have protruded too far and would have blocked the entrance. The south wall, which is the most relevant for this discussion on the Roman value of authenticity since it is the only wall entirely decorated with painted marble, is the only location where the placement of a bed would not obstruct the entrance to the room. There is, however, an argument that could make us doubt the presence of a bed along this wall. The plot on which the house of Sallust was built is not rectangular. The outer north and south walls of

Wallace-Hadrill 1994, 17; Dickmann 1999, 28 (both with references to the abovementioned and other Roman authors). 35 Mols 1999, 6 36 Casts have been made of a few cavities that were left by wooden furniture in the volcanic ashes of Pompeii, but none of these belong to the House of Sallust (Mols 1999, 16 and appendix 3). 37 Personal communication with Stephan Mols. 38 For the size of ancient beds, see Mols 1999, 38. 34

Figure 7 Pavimentum sectile of room 34 (PPM IV 136).

the plot are built at an angle of 86 degrees with the west wall (Figures 4, 5). The south wall of cubiculum 34 coincides with the outer south wall of the plot and is therefore slightly oblique. If a bed was placed here, it would have been in a slightly oblique position as well. This in turn would have had an effect on the sightlines concerning the decorations of this room, most importantly the opus sectile floor. To retain an austere design, the marble pattern of the floor was not adjusted to take account of the oblique south (and north) wall, but was made as one rectangular decoration (Figure 7). This causes small strips of floor to be left out of the main decorative scheme on both sides of the room. Figure 7 clearly shows the filling of the small strip along the north wall just behind the threshold. At the top of Figure 7 we can see a similar filling of the strip along the south wall. An obliquely placed bed would have disturbed the symmetrical design of the entire floor. If the bed would not have been aligned with the wall but with the opus sectile floor, it would - because of its width - probably have been placed partly over the emblema, which deviates from the more or less general rule that an emblema must be visible since it was the focal point in Roman floor decoration. To summarise, whilst it is not impossible that a bed was placed here, its presence would seem illogical considering the small surface area of the room and the oblique position of the walls. It is also possible that other types of furniture such as cupboards, tables, benches, and chairs were present, especially if this room functioned as a reception room. These furnishings would not have taken up as much room and could have been placed easily in room 34.39 For us it is important to note that whether a bed or any other type of furniture was placed in cubiculum 34, it would never have blocked any of the lower wall decorations entirely. Even if a bed, the longest of all furnishings, was placed against the south wall, it would have left at least 0.45m of the painted marble wall decoration visible. The analysis given here shows that both the real and the painted panels would always have been at least partially visible. This observation is supported by the design of

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For the size of all types of furniture, see Mols 1999, 145-219.

S. van de Liefvoort, The real value of fake the decorations themselves. On closer inspection, the homogeneity of their shape immediately catches the eye and so does not at first glance indicate that there was any distinction in value. Both the genuine and the painted panels are executed in a pattern that shows rectangular slabs surrounded by frames of smaller rectangular pieces (Figures 8, 9). The difference between the panels can be found in the types of marble represented. Breccia rosa and palombino are used for the genuine marble dadoes, which are both sandycoloured types of marble with (in the case of breccia rosa) red veins.40 The painted examples on the other hand show giallo antico and what may be green and red porphyry. Giallo antico is usually bright yellow with dark red veins and the porphyries attract attention because of their deep red and green colours respectively. So on the basis of their colours the painted marbles did attract more attention than the real ones. This seems to be mirrored in the fact that the

Figure 8 Authentic marble wall decoration from the north wall (photo: author).

Figure 9 Painted marble wall decoration from the south wall (photo: author).

The identification of the real marbles in particular is restricted by the poor state of preservation and maintenance of the panels. As a consequence, I follow the determination of these marbles as given by the authors of PPM IV 138. 40

painted dadoes can be found on the south wall, which has a direct sightline from the main entrance (i.e. the door in the north wall). So visitors approaching room 34 would first see the decorations on the south wall, which would explain the great care with which the middle and upper zones of this wall were decorated.

Concluding remarks: the Roman perception of art Even though the room presented above is the only one of its kind that has been uncovered thus far, it provides much scope for discussion. The findings with regard to the wall decoration conflict with the modern tendency to prefer authentic decorations above non-authentic ones and urge us to employ caution with respect to the unreserved application of this modern idea to ancient contexts. In my opinion, the difference we have encountered between the attribution of value to contemporary artworks and to those from antiquity lies in the perception of art as a whole. Nowadays, art is usually produced as an individual product (‘art for art’s sake’) and is highly praised when it is deemed authentic and original. In contrast, the material data we term ‘Roman art’ include items that were produced for a specific context. With regard to the domestic context, the term ‘art’ refers in large part to the many decorations that adorn walls and floors that could be regarded as equivalents to modern wallpaper and floor coverings. Decoration was omnipresent in a Roman house and therefore was eminently suitable as a means of communication. A house owner received many different types of guests, whose access to the house was determined by the relationship they maintained with him.41 Visitors from a lower social rank were usually received in the public part of the house and visitors from an equal or higher social rank in the private part. It was therefore relatively easy to communicate the intended message to the right person via the different forms of art. The house owner took care to choose wall paintings, floor coverings and other kinds of decoration that specifically suited the function of a room and its intended audience. This was probably also the case with the decorations in the House of Sallust. Since room 34 comprises one social context, we may assume that its decorations were meant to be viewed by one type of visitor.42 Consequently, the message that both the real and the painted marble evoke would have been one and the same. This strengthens the conclusion we have already drawn, that authenticity in Roman art was not necessarily better appreciated than imitation. The real and the painted panels were equally capable of communicating a well-considered message.

Vitruvius De Architectura VI.5.1 (cf. Wallace-Hadrill 1994, 10-12). The fact that the room is so richly decorated and located in the private part of the house suggests its visitors were people from an equal or higher social rank than the house owner. 41 42

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World Considering the context of the room and the fact that all the panels show marble, which was in itself an expensive and fashionable means of decoration, this message reflected the high social status of the house owner. The fact that these decorations were applied to a room so closely connected to the quietness of a garden area, points to the leisure the house owner could permit himself to enjoy in this room, which again contributes to his image as a highranking citizen. The question left for us is why the owner chose to decorate this room with both real and painted marble instead of choosing one or the other. The answer to this question lies, I think, in the diverse qualities of marble on the one hand and painting on the other. Marble was first and foremost an expensive type of decoration, especially in comparison with paint.43 The cost of marble was due to the normally small amounts of marble that were produced by the quarries in relation to the time that it took to extract it, and because of the fact that almost all marble had to be transported from overseas.44 So whilst marble was available in the first century AD, it was expensive and not all types could be imported in large amounts. These factors ensured the status of marble as a luxurious type of decoration, which in turn promoted its use as a means of evoking messages of wealth and high social status, as in the House of Sallust. Paintings on the other hand gave an opportunity to surpass nature.45 With regard to marble, a Roman customer was always restricted to the amount of material supplied by the quarries, whereas dyes were in general less difficult to obtain. This in turn gave the customer the opportunity to decorate his house with painted versions of marble that were, in reality, not readily available. Examples of this include the many imitations of green and red porphyry, which are considered to have been the most expensive types of marble in the Roman era because of their scarceness.46 Imitating them in a convincing way, however, would have been the real challenge. This was of course also true of the less expensive types of marble and hiring skilful painters was therefore always a necessity. In my opinion, the owner of the House of Sallust chose to decorate room 34 with both real and painted marble panels because this would give him ‘the best of both worlds’. The authentic panels conveyed the message that the owner had the resources to employ an expensive means of decoration, whereas the painted panels allowed him to bring the most exclusive types of marble into his home, which would not Of course there are marbles that were relatively cheap and dyes that were quite expensive, but we may assume that marble was overall more expensive than paint in Roman times. 44 The only Italic marble quarry we know of is the quarry at Luni (modern Carrara), from which plain white marble was extracted. The abundance of marble extracted here and the fact that it was lustreless as opposed to, for instance, the Greek types, made it the cheapest type of marble in the Roman world. 45 A concept that had already been alluded to in Roman times (see especially Apuleius’ Metamorphoses 2.4). 46 See Lauffer 1971, 192-3, 302. 43

otherwise have been readily available. This leads us to the conclusion that authenticity itself was not so much an issue in Roman art as decoration itself. Provided that decoration evoked the right message within the right context, the presence of real or fake was a secondary consideration.

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Abbreviations CIL PAH PPM

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Clarke, J. R. 1991. The Houses of Roman Italy, 100 B.C. - A.D. 250: Ritual, Space and Decoration. Berkeley, University of Carolina Press. DeFelice, J. 2007. Inns and taverns. In J. J. Dobbins and P. W. Foss (eds), The World of Pompeii, 477. New York, Routledge. De Haan, N. and S. T. A. M. Mols 2006. Romeinse atriumhuizen: oude ideeën, recente vondsten en nieuwe inzichten. Lampas 39, 287-304. Dickmann, J.-A. 1999. Domus Frequentata: anspruchsvolles Wohnen im pompejanischen Stadthaus. Munich, Pfeil. Elsner, J. 1995. Art and the Roman Viewer. The Transformation of Art from the Pagan World to Christianity. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Gazda, E. K. (ed.) 2002. The Ancient Art of Emulation. Studies in Artistic Originality and Tradition from the Present to Classical Antiquity. Ann Arbor, University of Michigan Press. Gros, P. 2001. L’architecture romaine: du début du IIIe siècle av. J.-C. à la fin du Haut-Empire. Parte 2: Maisons, palais, villas et tombeaux. Paris, Picard. Hales, S. 2003, The Roman House and Social Identity, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Huang, M., Bride, H., Kemp, M. J. and A. J. Parker 2011. Human cortical activity evoked by the assignment of authenticity when viewing works of art. Frontiers in Human Neuroscience 5, article 134. Jashemski, W. F. 1964. A Pompeian copa. The Classical Journal 59, 337-49. Jongste, P. F. B. 1995. Het gebruik van marmer in de Romeinse samenleving. (Unpublished PhD-thesis, University of Leiden, Department of Archaeology). Laidlaw, A. 1985. The First Style in Pompeii: Painting and Architecture. Rome, Bretschneider. Lauffer, S. 1971. Diokletians Preisedikt. Berlin, De Gruyter.

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S. van de Liefvoort, The real value of fake Mau, A. 1882. Geschichte der decorativen Wandmalerei in Pompeji. Berlin, Reimer. Mols, S. T. A. M. 1999. Wooden Furniture in Herculaneum: Form, Technique and Function. Amsterdam, Gieben. Pesando, F. and M. P. Guidobaldi 2006. Pompei, Oplontis, Ercolano, Stabiae. Rome, Laterza. Smith, T. J. 1997. Roman Villas: a Study in Social Structure. London, Routledge. Wallace-Hadrill, A. 1988. The social structure of the Roman house. Papers of the British School at Rome 56, 43-97. Wallace-Hadrill, A. 1994. Houses and Society in Pompeii and Herculaneum. Princeton, Princeton University Press. Wallace-Hadrill, A. 2008. Rome’s Cultural Revolution. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press.

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The de(con)struction of public monuments Stephanie Bauer

This article considers the various circumstances under which official Roman monuments could be dismantled. For this purpose, four hoard finds are examined in detail: a bronze inscription from Wutöschingen, a further inscription from Augusta Raurica/Augst, the large hoard find of Brixia/Brescia, and the bronze parts of an ornate door from Lopodunum/ Ladenburg. Through an examination of the context, and a comparison with similar finds and ancient texts, a picture of different possible events that could lead to disassembly emerges, describing the ‘biographies’ of the objects in question. There are four main factors behind the deposition of public monuments in hoards, demonstrated by the chosen examples: indifference towards the former meaning of the object, criminal activity, the legal deconstruction of outdated monuments, and the attempt to save the objects from complete destruction. These very different causes for action can lead to similar archaeological finds. To gain new insight into the underlying structures of ancient society it is worth keeping in mind all the possibilities that motivated a deposition while looking for an interpretation. public monuments, bronze, recycling, object biographies, hoard finds

Dieser Artikel beschäftigt sich mit den verschiedenen Umständen, unter denen römische Staatsmonumente abgebaut werden können. Zu diesem Zweck werden vier Hort-Funde im Detail untersucht: jeweils eine Bronzeinschrift aus Wutöschingen und Augst/Augusta Raurica, der große Hort von Brixia/Brescia und die Dekorationen des Prunkportals von Lopodunum/Ladenburg. Durch die Analyse des Kontextes und den Vergleich mit anderen, ähnlichen Funden und Befunden sowie die Berücksichtigung der antiken Autoren soll ein Bild gezeichnet werden, das die ‘Biografien’ der jeweiligen Stücke beschreibt. Es ergeben sich vier Hauptfaktoren für das Recyceln von öffentlichen Monumenten, die durch die ausgewählten Beispiele widergespiegelt werden: Gleichgültigkeit gegenüber der ehemaligen Bedeutung des Objektes, kriminelle Handlungen, legaler Abbau unzeitgemäßer Monumente und der Versuch, die Stücke vor ihrer Zerstörung zu bewahren. Diese äußerst verschiedenen Handlungsgrundlagen führen zu sehr ähnlichen Befunden. Um zu neuen Kenntnissen über die zugrundeliegenden antiken Gesellschaftsstrukturen zu kommen sollten sämtliche Möglichkeiten der Interpretation im Auge behalten werden. öffentliche Monumente, Bronze, Recycling, Objektbiografien, Hortfunde

Yet the Romans love their city above all the men we know, and they are eager to protect all their ancestral treasures and to preserve them, so that nothing of the ancient glory of Rome may be obliterated. For even though they were for a long period under barbarian sway, they preserved the buildings of the city and the most of its adornments (...)1 Roman society put a special emphasis on its memorial culture. The virtues of one’s ancestors were of crucial importance and ensuring one’s name was remembered for generations to come was an important goal for everyone who held a public office.2 Nevertheless only the smallest amount of these honorary monuments has survived through the centuries. Ironically, some of these owe their escape from destruction to a loss of memory, for 1 2

Procop. Hyper ton polemon 8.22,5-6 (trans. H. B. Dewing 1928, LCL) Lahusen 1983, 132-6; Steward 2003, 300

example the statue of Marcus Aurelius on the Capitoline, which owes its special place of honour during the middle ages to the fact that it was thought to be an image of the ‘Christian’ emperor Constantine.3 Numerous other Roman monuments were lost, many of them due to the fact that the material they were made of could be used in a new context. It is a well-known fact that, of all the materials used for monuments, metals are amongst the easiest to recycle. Stones can, to some degree, be altered or used in masonry, but the process is not a simple one and in many cases the alterations can still be seen afterwards. Bronze on the other hand can, when not simply cut to shape as in our first example below, be melted down and formed into something completely new, without a trace of the original function remaining. A broken metal tool will, in

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Baumstark 1999, 80-1

Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World most cases at least, not simply be thrown away but either repaired or else reused as scrap metal. This also seems to be the reason why there are considerably less bronze sculptures surviving today than their marble counterparts, despite the fact that evidence shows us that bronze was quite commonly used for this purpose. But this reuse of bronze is a somewhat neglected question. It is clear that bronze, as decoration or in the form of statues, played a prominent role in public monuments and the representation of the elite. We find bases with traces for the fixation of bronze statues throughout the Roman Empire.4 But many of the remains of these very monuments, however, were purposely broken and fragmented. What we find are often only small parts, perhaps fingers of statues or single letters from inscriptions, which are cut to pieces. The reason for this is, in a considerable number of cases, not the effect of erosion. On the contrary, those bronze works have more often than not been deliberately destroyed and prepared for recycling.5 According to the biographical approach towards objects proposed by Kopytoff, the questions we ask of material should resemble those asked of people: ‘What, sociologically, are the biographical possibilities inherent in its “status” and in the period and culture, and how are these possibilities realized? (…) What are the recognized “ages” or periods in the thing’s “life”, and what are the cultural markers for them? How does the thing’s use change with its age, and what happens to it when it reaches the end of its usefulness?’6 The question of how and why monuments come to an end is seldom a central one in modern archaeological scholarship. The main focus normally lies in the production and dating of objects and studies of their original function; the beginning of their biography, so to say. An object’s intended end – which was somehow prevented in the cases we can study today – is its destruction. Sometimes this act can be dated and the actors named. But the reason for destruction always remains clear and need not be questioned: profit. The act is connected to the material value of the objects, which can be used in a new context. Why can an object be brought to a new use at all? According again to Kopytoff, things continue to have an exchange value, even if they have officially been ‘decommoditized’. Thus they can, under certain circumstances, return to being mere commodities again.7 But precisely how can something that was built as a material bearer of memory, like an inscription or a statue, put up in a public place, suddenly become scrap metal valued only by its material worth? Must we always imagine destruction and reuse connected

For an analysis of these traces see Willer 2000, 565-73. For an exemplary impression of the fragmentary status of the material in the provinces along the limes see Heckmann et al. 2011, 95-6. 6 Kopytoff 1986, 66-7 7 Kopytoff 1986, 76 4 5

to barbarian hordes, plundering an area with which they have no ideological connection, or to later generations who follow new ideals or have forgotten everything about their past? These could, maybe with a certain irony, be named as the reasons for the belated destruction of a bronze plate in Wutöschingen, Baden-Württemberg, where it seems that a lack of knowledge about the importance of this piece led to its final destruction. But in other cases it is not so simple, as further examples from Augst and Brescia will show.

Misinformation? In June 1936 two German schoolchildren found several interesting slabs of metal while playing in a mechanic‘s workshop in the small town of Wutöschingen, BadenWürttemberg. Convinced that they had discovered something important, they informed their teacher, who was genuinely surprised by the find: the boys had stumbled upon several pieces of a Roman inscription on a bronze plate (Figure 1). Soon enough archaeologists were informed and the owner of the workshop told the experts the story of the artefact. He had found the then intact plate three years before while digging a new latrine-hole in his backyard. Overnight a wall of the ditch had collapsed, and there, in the gravel, the antique bronze inscription was revealed. Since its material had pleased him, he had kept it in his workshop for a while, until a customer turned up who needed the oil cooler of his car repaired. The mechanic then remembered the convenient bronze sheet, which he could cut down and use for the job. The inscription was pragmatically divided into six parts, one of which was then cut into smaller pieces to be used for the repairs. Five of these much smaller fragments were later recovered from the car, and the car-owner was happily

Figure 1 Bronze plate with an honorary inscription from Wutöschingen. From the 'Archäologisches Museum Colombischlössle', Freiburg, reproduced courtesy of Yvonne Mühleis.

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S. Bauer, The de(con)struction of public monuments prepared to exchange the historical pieces for new ones. Of the remaining five larger fragments, however, only the two discovered by the children could be found. The rest of the inscription remained lost, probably in a nearby waste deposit.8 Therefore not all of the object could be recovered, nor did a survey of the find spot provide any hints as to how the inscription had got there in the first place. Though the place where the plate had been found could still be identified without a doubt, no other remains of Roman material culture were found anywhere nearby. The monument to which the bronze plate had belonged remains a mystery, as does the exact wording of what had originally been a largely intact inscription, which honours a former centurion of the Legio XI Gemina from Mediolanum/Milan.9 This is all much to the dismay of modern scholars who lament how the information that would have been provided by the intact document could have shed new light on the history of the region. To know how close we were to knowledge naturally makes us feel more frustrated about its loss. But from a rational point of view the fate of this inscription is not an unusual one. The mechanic did not know what he had uncovered. All he did know was that he had found a useful piece of metal, and so he used it. Even if he had known about the importance of the inscription for historians, he nonetheless may not have cared enough to act differently. After all repairing the car was his job, the way he earned his money, whereas the act of someone deciphering a Roman inscription would not have improved his daily life. In fact, the monument was most probably originally destroyed in antiquity for similar reasons. Evidence suggests that at least the right part of the plate was already missing when it was first discovered in 1936.10 What is more, from its form and its execution, it is highly likely that the honorary inscription is all that remains of a statue base that originally would have been completely clad in bronze.11 It is clear that all the side panels, the ornamental frames and, most importantly, the statue itself, were already lost in antiquity. We do not have to look very far for evidence of ‘mindless plundering’. The so-called ‘crisis’ of the third century has left us with a large amount of hoard finds in the present day; some created by the Romans, who wished to save their belongings, the others by Germanic raiders. The assemblages of the second kind are remarkable for their more heterogeneous composition and can contain anything deemed of value to the plunderers, from the kitchen goods of a farmhouse to the inventory of a temple. The scarcity of ores in Barbaricum made metal objects in general a worthy prize.12 While metal tools, vessels and similar objects could be used, other items were collected and divided among the group for their metal worth, without consideration for For the exact circumstances of the find see Kraft 1937, 93-4. Transcription in Fabricius 1937, 94-6. 10 Kraft 1937, 94 11 Alföldy 2005, 110 12 Künzl 1998, 31 8 9

their artistic, much less their sentimental, value. Examples of the latter are the various silver cups and plates of high quality that formed part of two plunderers’ hoards from the river Rhine near the modern towns of Hagenbach and Neupotz. These objects had been neatly cut into equal pieces according to their weight, with no attention paid whatsoever to the mythological scenes depicted on them or the other elaborate decorations.13 Not only the distance of space, but of time, can lead to indifference towards former monuments of cultural heritage, as seen in the following record of vandalism from the early 13th century: These barbarians, haters of the beautiful, did not allow the statues standing in the Hippodrome and other marvellous works of art to escape destruction, but all were made into coins. Thus great things were exchanged for small ones, those works fashioned at huge expense were converted into worthless copper coins.14 The ‘barbarians’ in question were in fact Latins, the very descendants of the Romans who had previously put so much effort into preserving their ‘ancestral treasures’. During the fourth crusade the Latins conquered Constantinople and recklessly plundered the city, as the former Grand Logothete Niketas describes in all intensity.15 What makes the situation especially interesting for us is the fact that over the centuries since its official foundation by Constantine, numerous statues were brought from Rome to Constantinople. Many of these were put up in the Hippodrome as symbols of the continuing tradition of the Roman Empire, amongst other reasons.16 Thus, at least for Niketas, these sculptures were national symbols, worthy of special, almost religious, respect and he was outraged at the thought that ‘for a few copper coins they [the Latins] delivered over the nation’s ancient and venerable monuments and cast these into the smelting furnace’.17 Notably, Niketas does not refer to his own nation here, but particularly to the city of Rome and its symbol, the lupa romana, which was among the destroyed treasures.18 But for the ‘barbarian’ conquerors of Constantinople the statues at the Hippodrome did not have the symbolic worth that the Greek clerk saw in them. Instead they were raw material, the legitimate property of those who had won the victory, to be used as they pleased.

Stupperich 2005, 210 Niketas, De signis, (trans. R. Rehm), cited after Radnoti-Alföldi 2011, 80. 15 cf. Radnoti-Alföldi 2011, 79-82. 16 Radnoti-Alföldi 2011, 104 17 Niketas, De signis, (trans. R. Rehm), cited after Radnoti-Alföldi 2011, 82. 18 Radnoti-Alföldi 2011, 82 13 14

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World Illegal profit? There is a tendency to imagine that those who plundered public monuments were ignorant of their importance, or, in the case of ‘barbarians’, they were indifferent. That this was not always the case is shown by an example from Augusta Raurica. The Swiss town of Augst near Basel is especially rich in Roman treasures from different periods, beginning with its foundation in the 1st century AD, and with a peak ‘hoard horizon’ of the late second and third century, a reflection of the eventful nature of this period.19 Two of the hoards, large ‘scrap metal deposits’, obviously contain material that originally belonged to public monuments. For one of them, which contained parts of two bronze equestrian statues and several bronze standing figures, it is believed that the fragments formed part of the stock of a bronzecaster’s material.20 Where the craftsman got his bronze from and whether he was officially entitled to use it cannot be known with certainty. For the second hoard, however, the circumstances of the find are exceptionally significant and well-documented. The find consists of at least two bronze statue base coverings, including the plates with the inscriptions (Figure 2). These belong to two monuments celebrating the foundation of the colonia Augusta Raurica. Since both inscriptions are very similar in form and wording, it has been speculated that one of them honoured L. Octavius, who officially established the town on the authority of the emperor Augustus. The second base would then have borne a statue of the princeps himself.21 The insula in which the hoard was deposited had been destroyed twice, the first time by an earthquake and resulting fire around the year AD 243, the second time

around AD 273 during a military conflict. After the first destruction, some of the rooms in the building, including the hall containing the deposit, had provisionally been made inhabitable again. A makeshift workshop was then in use there for some time before its owner finally left, hiding his property under a layer of hydrated lime. This perhaps took place in the 250s or 260s, a time when many hoards were hidden for fear of raids. It is clear in any case that the building had already been abandoned and perhaps had also even partly collapsed when it was finally destroyed for the second time.22 The hidden bronzes were part of the material for the workshop and had been stored in a ditch near the northwestern wall of the hall. From the stratigraphy it is clear that the inhabitant of this building had dug a hole into the substructure of an old fireplace. The owner had carefully placed the fragments inside the cavity and then covered the deposit with a limestone plate, either at the moment of deposition or at a later point in time. The whole setting, which is completed by a nearby contemporary fireplace, strongly suggests that the deposit was devised in order to make the continued extraction of material possible. It was therefore not the hoard of a plunderer from outside the town, who hid his goods here by chance and in haste, but a more permanent recycling-depot.23 This allows for some interesting conclusions to be made. First of all, the disassembly of the statue bases that had once been erected in a prominent place, probably the forum, implies that public order had been at least partly disturbed by some event, making it impossible to prevent the looting of public monuments. It is highly possible that the event which allowed the statue-bases to be stripped of their sheeting might have been the above-mentioned earthquake, which had destroyed many buildings in Augusta Raurica. Secondly, the layout of the deposit and its surrounding context suggests a constant usage of the material, with the probable re-melting of some of the fragments in the hall itself. The owner had obviously not deemed the earthquake or event catastrophic enough to think that the city would be completely abandoned. On the contrary, it seems that he had counted on order being re-established at a future moment in time. In this case he would have had to face the consequences for the act of vandalism and the theft of public property that had resulted in the bronze plates in his possession. This, and not the fear of becoming the victim of theft himself, was probably why he secretly stored his raw material in a hole covered by a stone plate.24

Figure 2 Fragments of two inscriptions celebrating the foundation of Augusta Raurica. From the 'Römermuseum Augusta Raurica', reproduced courtesy of Debora Schmid.

For a survey of the material see Martin 1977. Rütti 1996, esp. 21 21 Janietz 2000, 72-3

Schwarz 2000, 52-3 Schwarz 2000, 45-7 24 Schwarz 2000, 48-50

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S. Bauer, The de(con)struction of public monuments Legal deconstruction? On the other hand there are also well-documented occasions of official deconstructions of certain kinds of monuments. Some of these were quite violent destructions and occurred when an important person was subject to damnatio memoriae and all his honours, including his statues and pictures in public places, were removed. In this event the pragmatic Romans made use of the recyclable material, as seen in Juvenal’s description of the fall of Sejanus: Some men are hurled headlong by overgreat power and the envy to which it exposes them; they are wrecked by the long and illustrious roll of their honours: down come their statues, obedient to the rope; the axe hews in pieces their chariot wheels and the legs of the unoffending nags. And now the flames are hissing, and amid the roar of furnace and of bellows the head of the mighty Sejanus, the darling of the mob, is burning and crackling, and from that face, which was but lately second in the entire world, are being fashioned pipkins, basins, frying-pans and slop-pails!25 While the particularly discrediting uses to which the material of Sejanus’ statues is put are certainly a stylistic device, we can be sure that the precious bronze was, in any case, not wasted. A similar fate has to be imagined for the statues of Marius Gratidianus that were pulled down by Sylla when he entered Rome in 82 BC26 and for those various members of the imperial families who fell into disgrace. If the mob who destroyed the monuments and distributed the raw material amongst themselves acted completely legally, or if the authorities preferred to keep the raw material for the state treasury, remains an open question. In any case such events presumably gained too much momentum to be completely organised from above. But there are other, more peaceful occasions for the recycling of statues. Suetonius, for example, describes in his biography of Augustus that the emperor insisted on ‘melting down the silver statues which had been set up in his honour in former times and with the money coined from them dedicating golden tripods to Apollo of the Palatine’.27 Pliny the Elder tells us of at least one occasion in which state officials made an effort to reduce the huge amount of statues in the Forum Romanum: Lucius Piso has recorded that, in the consulship of Marcus Aemilius and the second of Gaius Popilius, the censors Publius Cornelius Scipio and Marcus Popilius caused all the statues round the forum of men who had held office as magistrates to be removed excepting those that had been set up by

a resolution of the people or the Senate, while the statue which Spurius Cassius, who had aspired to monarchy, had erected in his own honour before the temple of Tellus was actually melted down by censors: obviously the men of those days took precautions against ambition in the matter of statues also.28 These are of course large scale events, sanctioned by the very highest governmental authorities. But similar occurrences seem to have happened on a local level as well. On the south side of the forum of Pompeii, for example, various traces on the well-preserved pavement allow us to reconstruct several phases of statue decoration in the area. Until the instalment of the limestone pavement (probably in the reign of Augustus), the number of monuments, all of the same standardised size, steadily grew. But there was a dramatic change in the statue programme during the course of first century BC. The establishment of the principate and its dynastic ideals called for a different method of public representation. To make way for the new, more monumental honours for the imperial family, including an arch and several larger statues, an increasing number of the images of local magistrates had to be removed. If these statues were completely removed and recycled, or if they were just put up in a new, less prominent place is impossible to know.29 For the material evidence of the organised deconstruction of statues and similar objects, we might examine the situation in Brescia (ancient Brixia), where an enormous bronze hoard (Figure 3) was discovered in 1826. It contained, among other things, parts of gilded portraits, ornamental bronze frames and, most famously, a beautiful winged Victoria. Some, if not all of these pieces, which were found in a room close to the capitolium, were once part of the decoration of the town’s forum and surrounding temple areas. A connection between the systematic collection of these objects and the abandonment of the capitolium temple seems obvious. While not all of the items can be securely attributed to specific monuments, some of the find can be attributed to the capitolium temple with certainty: these pieces have recently been proven to be sections from monumental gilded thrones for at least two statues, probably of Jupiter and Juno.30 Different explanations for the presence of these bronzes in a hoard have been suggested. Because of the presence of religiously important material from the temple, the most probable explanation is Theodosius’ edict cunctos populos, which banned pagan cults in AD 380. Nevertheless, a large amount of material in the hoard stems from honorary monuments that were once located in the forum. One can therefore not exclude the idea that the economic crisis

Plin. Nat. Hist. 34.14 (trans. H. Rackham 1952, LCL, adapted) Mau 1896, 150-6; Kockel, 2005, 51-72; Bauer 2007, 75-87, unpublished Masters thesis 30 Franken 2002 28

Juvenal 10.56-64 (trans. C. G. Ramsay 1918, LCL) 26 Plin. NH 34.12 27 Suet. Aug. 52 (trans. J. C. Rolfe 1914, LCL) 25

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World similar to those found in the region in the 19th century.32 Since these must also have once belonged to statues and similar public objects, here we have an example of the reuse of monuments well before the final exploitation of the whole area. The bronze caster who worked here was probably employed by the temple. We can be sure that he reused the material of decommissioned monuments completely legally.

Attempted conservation? While in Brescia the contents of the hoard were probably collected because of their material worth, at the civitassuburb of Lopodunum/Ladenburg someone obviously hid a treasure coming from a public building for another reason. The treasure in this case is the bronze decoration of an elaborate portal (Figure 4) that must have belonged to an official building, maybe a temple. It was found in a room in the area of the so-called mansio, which was probably in reality a public building at the southern side of the forum.33 Figure 3 Bronze frames and statue parts from the hoard find of Brescia. From Brescia, 'Santa Giulia. Museo della città', reproduced courtesy of Francesca Morandini.

and the atmosphere of fear caused by frequent invasions from the North led to the collection and secreting away of valuable material in the early 5th century AD.31 In any case, we can see here the results of a systematic effort to exploit the ‘raw material’ of public property. The sheer mass of bronze objects and the place where it was stored, in the very centre of the town, allows no other conclusion. There is other evidence for the recycling of bronze in Brescia: among the debris inside a canal along the eastern border of the forum complex, the remnants of a brass founder’s workshop, connected to the capitolium, was discovered in 1998. The end of its use-life obviously coincides with the abandonment of the temple. The archaeological evidence points to a small manufacturing complex, specialised in restoration works for the sanctuary. The workshop was probably not equipped to produce its own bronze alloys, but rather had only relatively small crucibles, suitable to melt down lead and recyclable bronze. This interpretation is above all supported by the presence of tesserae cut to cover lacunae and other casting flaws that occur during fusion. Traces of material remoulded or cut out for this restoration process were found together with fitted tesserae and tools. Pieces intended to be reused in the restoration process included, amongst other objects, fragments of statues and bronze frames,

This important area of the antique town was built over in the 1960s and 70s, with only a rudimentary possibility of archaeological monitoring. In the summer of 1973 an annex for a school building led to the discovery of Roman building remains. Even though the people responsible from the construction firm knew about the archaeological importance of the spot, they insisted on continuing with the earthwork as fast as possible. One afternoon, having lured away the surveyors under a false pretext, a hole was

Figure 4 Bronze decoration of the Ladenburg-Portal. From the Archäologisches Landesmuseum Baden-Württemberg, Außenstelle Konstanz, reproduced courtesy of Yvonne Mühleis.

32 31

Morandini et al. 1998, 35; Formigli/Salcuni 2012, 10-11

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Formigli/Salcuni 2012, 98-101 Künzl 2005, 181-2

S. Bauer, The de(con)struction of public monuments excavated with the aid of a power shovel. When the already suspicious archaeologists visited the site in the evening of the same day, they were presented with several ornamental bronze sheets, which had been discovered shortly before their arrival. A survey of the freshly dug out material from the hole uncovered several further fittings. Additionally, the original surroundings of the treasure had not been completely disturbed and parts of the objects could still be documented in their original context. Though the recovery of the rest of the find turned out to be difficult – curious residents hoped to gather ‘souvenirs’ from the excavation, while the construction workers secretly tried to dispose of the excavated earth by driving it to a waste deposit – most of it was saved in the end.34 In spite of the rather unfortunate circumstances of the find, the original storage of the bronzes in a wooden chest or a similar container can still be reconstructed. Someone had carefully stored the material in a container, as can be seen from the evidence of the four dish-shaped bronze discs that were, by a lucky coincidence, found still neatly stacked together. Traces of oxidation show that these discs and some more of the same type had been kept in a pile, at this time all still complete with their brazed rings, which were later mostly ripped off by the excavator shovel. A similar phenomenon can be seen for a number of rectangular bronze sheets. The overall stratification of the bronzes can only be partially reconstructed. It seems as if the heaviest items, like the lion-heads with rings in their mouths, the sea-leopards and the figurative busts, for which the aforementioned disks had been the support, were put at the bottom of the chest, followed by the lighter objects.35 Reconstructions show that not all elements of the door’s decoration were found. Of the originally eleven busts, for example, only five remain. The rest may have gone missing in antiquity, if one thinks of a hasty effort to save at least parts of the material. On the other hand it is also quite probable that the small and obviously valuable artefacts were stolen during the chaotic course of the excavation.36 This seems the more plausible considering the care with which the objects were deposited in antiquity. The evidence points to the fact that in this case we do not have the hoard of a plunderer, who collected the bronzes for their material value only. All of the fittings were whole and carefully removed from their wooden supports, with as little damage as possible. Completeness seems to have been the intent of the person who hid this treasure at a moment of danger in order to reinstall it under more peaceful circumstances. For this reason it is believed that the original location of the doorway is to be found near the place where the bronzes were hidden. As mentioned above, this would be the forum area, and the door may have belonged to a temple or public building.37 Of course it is not clear whether the

intention was to rebuild the door in its original form or in another context. Admittedly these fittings, which are of exceptional quality, would have attracted undue attention on a private entrance. Consequently, one can imagine that the intention was that the items were to be re-affixed to a public building. In this case it is obvious that the intent was deconstruction, not destruction.

Conclusion This article has explored the various circumstances under which official Roman monuments could be dismantled. The most commonly assumed context is one in which the person uses the monument as a mere resource, with no ideological connection with the authorities who erected it. He might be an outsider in terms of time or of culture; in any case he does not play a part in the governmental system in question and thus does not have to fear the legal consequences of his actions. On the other hand there are, not surprisingly, also definite examples of people from within the system (in this case the Romans), who made use of particular situations in order to make a profit. They were well aware of the crime they were committing, and the danger of being punished if public order was restored. The prospect of gaining wealth was nevertheless worth the risk for them, and so they stored their new goods in secret. Then again, some public monuments simply became outdated. In one way or another they did not fit into the new prevailing ideology any more. These objects were deconstructed and their material used in workshops, with the knowledge and the approval of the governmental representatives. Finally there are cases in which monuments are disassembled for safekeeping, with an intention that they be reassembled at a future date. All these possibilities can be identified in the different kinds of hoards normally identified from the Roman period:38 there are hiding places for safekeeping created by the owners of precious material in times of crisis, and plunderers’ lairs. In most cases one type of hoard can barely be discerned from the other. Sometimes, as in the example of the statue bases from Augst, plunderer’s lairs and places of safekeeping may be one and the same. None of the examples discussed fully qualifies as a sacrificial hoard,39 since the aim of this article was to examine changes of meaning which could lead to the destruction, and thus in most cases the de-valuation, of a public monument. Sanctification, on the other hand, would normally mean a revaluation of the profane,40 something not necessary for the already partly sacrosanct objects of Roman memorial culture. The possibility of a sacral Künzl 1998, 31-9; Hanemann 2005, 186-8 The portal from Ladenburg might well have belonged to a templeinventory, and therefore had a role in a sacral context (cf. Künzl 1998, 31 and 35). However it was probably not deposited for religious reasons, but stored for practical purposes. 40 On singularisation and sacralisation see Kopytoff 1986, 73-4. 38 39

Heukemes 1998, 18-25 Heukemes 1998, 25-6 36 Heukemes 1998, 26-9 37 Heukemes 1998, 29 34 35

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World connotation, at least when it comes to official measures concerning the disassembly of statues, might be glimpsed in the account of Augustus’ use of the surplus from the melting down of his silver statues to donate tripods to the temple of Apollo, thus perhaps stressing the gap between the cult of a living person and pious behaviour towards the gods, which existed at least at this particular moment in time.41 The reason that there are so many examples of these hoards from the third century AD for the Northern Provinces, or from late antiquity in Roman Italy, is not that these actions are a phenomenon that only occurred in times of ‘decay’. Of course there would have been numerous opportunities for looters, from both within and outside the Roman Empire, to gather riches during these crises. People tend to hoard treasures in such times of trouble. But though it is true that at this moment in time treasures which were intended to be retrieved later stayed in the ground because their owners were unable to return,42 this does not mean that there were no hoards deposited in other times by luckier people. The mentalities and mechanics at work here are universal. The ‘biographies’ of valuable objects often contain a violent break. One might say that by nature they lead a dangerous life due to the special meanings they have in terms of material or ideological worth, since ‘(…) a society orders the world of things on the pattern of the structure that prevails in the social world of its people’.43 In this sense the application of the system of ‘object biography’ can not only help us understand the whole life of an object, including the destruction processes that archaeologists and historians rarely consider. It can also offer a new approach to the understanding of the society in which these biographies take place.

Bibliography: Alföldy, G. 2005. Die Inschriftenkultur. Lesen und Schreiben in der Provinz. In S. Schmidt (ed.), Imperium Romanum. Roms Provinzen an Neckar, Rhein und Donau, 110-16, Stuttgart, Theiss. Bauer, S. 2007. Typen von Ehrenstatuen in Pompeji. Unpublished Masters thesis, University of Augsburg. Baumstark, R. 1999. Das Nachleben der Reiterstatue. Vom caballus Constantini zum exemplum virtus. In Allianz AG (ed.), Marc Aurel – Der Reiter auf dem Kapitol, 78-115. München, Hirmer. Fabricius, E. 1937. Eine römische Bronzetafel mit Inschrift von Wutöschingen (Amt Waldshut). II. Die Inschrift. Badische Fundberichte 13, 94-5. Formigli, E. and A. Salcuni. (eds) 2012. Grandi bronzi antichi dall’Italia settentrionale: Brescia, Cividate Zanker 1987, 15-8 Künzl 1998, 31 43 Kopytoff 1986, 90 41 42

Camuno e Verona, (Frankfurter Archäologische Schriften 17) Bonn, Habelt. Franken, N. 2002. Nuove osservazioni sui troni monumentali di divintà nel Capitolium di Brescia. In F. Rossi, F. Morandini and C. Stella (eds), Nuove ricerche sul Capitolium di Brescia. Scavi, studi e restauri, 1915. Milano, Einaudi Tascabili. Hanemann, B. 2005. Versteckt, versenkt, verschüttet – Hortfunde und Hortarten. In J. Stadler (ed.), Geraubt und im Rhein versunken. Der Barbarenschatz. Begleitbuch zur Ausstellung, 186-8. Stuttgart, Theiss. Heckmann, S., Willer, F. and C. Sarge. 2011. Meist kleingehackt und nur selten am Stück - Forschungen zu römischen Bronzestatuen am Limes. In J. Kunow (ed.) Archäologie im Rheinland 2010, 95-6. Stuttgart, Theiss. Heukemes, B. 1998. Fundbericht. In E. Künzl (ed.), Das römische Prunkportal von Ladenburg, 15-30. Stuttgart, Theiss. Janietz, B. 2000. Appendix B zu Testimonium 2. Der technologische Befund an den Bronzeplatten und die Rekonstruktion der Inschriften der beiden Statuenbasen. In P. A. Schwarz, L. Berger and W. Boppert (eds), Tituli Rauracenses 1. Testimonien und Aufsätze: zu den Namen und ausgewählten Inschriften von Augst und Kaiseraugst (Forschungen in Augst 29), 55-75. Augst, Römermuseum. Kockel, V. 2005. Altes und Neues vom Forum und vom Gebäude der Eumachia in Pompeji. In R. Neudecker and P. Zanker (eds), Lebenswelten. Bilder und Räume in der römischen Stadt der Kaiserzeit (Palilia Band 16), 51-72. Wiesbaden, Reichert. Kopytoff, I. 1986. The cultural biography of things: commoditization as process. In A. Appadurai (ed.), The Social Life of Things. Commodities in Cultural Perspective, 64-91. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Kraft, G. 1937. Eine römische Bronzetafel mit Inschrift von Wutöschingen (Amt Waldshut). I. Fundbericht. Badische Fundberichte 13, 93-4. Künzl, E. 1998. Hortfunde. In E. Künzl (ed.), Das römische Prunkportal von Ladenburg, 31-40. Stuttgart, Theiss. Künzl, E. 2005. Das römische Portal von Ladenburg. Glanzpunkt gallorömischen Kunsthandwerks. In S. Schmidt (ed.), Imperium Romanum. Roms Provinzen an Neckar, Rhein und Donau, 181-5, Stuttgart, Theiss. Lahusen, G. 1983. Untersuchungen zur Ehrenstatue in Rom. Literarische und epigraphische Zeugnisse (Archaeologica 35). Roma, Bretschneider. Mau, A. 1896. Die Statuen des Forums von Pompeji. Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts, Römische Mitteilungen 11, 150-6. Morandini, F., Stella, C. and A. Valvo. 1998. Guida a Santa Giulia. Museo della Città, Brescia. L’età romana. La città. Le iscrizioni. Milano, Electa. Martin, M. 1977. Römische Schatzfunde aus Augst und Kaiseraugst, (Augster Museumshefte 2) Augst, Römermuseum.

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S. Bauer, The de(con)struction of public monuments Radnoti-Alföldi, M. 2011. The fate of the Lupa Romana: its possible route to Constantinople and its end in 1204. In M. Radnoti-Alföldi, E. Formigli and J. Fried (eds), The Lupa Romana. An Antique Monument Falls from her Pedestal, 77-104. Stuttgart, Franz Steiner. Rütti, B. 1996. Der Grabungsbefund. In B. Janietz Schwarz, and D. Rouiller (eds), Ein Depot zerschlagener Großbronzen aus Augusta Raurica. Die Rekonstruktion der beiden Pferdestatuen und Untersuchungen zur Herstellungstechnik (Forschungen in Augst 20), 13-21. Augst, Römerstadt Augusta Raurica. Schwarz, P. A. 2000. Appendix A zu Testimonium 2. Fundumstände des Recycling-Depots mit den Bronzeplatten und archäologisch-historische Interpretation des Grabungsbefundes in der Insula 20. In P. A. Schwarz, L. Berger and W. Boppert (eds), Tituli Rauracenses 1. Testimonien und Aufsätze: zu den Namen und ausgewählten Inschriften von Augst und Kaiseraugst (Forschungen in Augst 29), 41-53. Augst, Römermuseum. Steward, P. 2003. Statues in Roman Society. Representation and Response. Oxford, Oxford University Press. Stupperich, R. 2005. Zerhacktes Silber – Beuteteilung unter den Germanen. In J. Stadler (ed.), Geraubt und im Rhein versunken. Der Barbarenschatz. Begleitbuch zur Ausstellung, 210-12. Stuttgart, Theiss. Willer, F. 2000. Neue Beobachtungen zur Herstellung und Versockelungstechnik von Bronzestatuen. Kölner Jahrbuch 33, 565-73. Zanker, P. 1987. Augustus und die Macht der Bilder. München, Beck.

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Coin finds beyond the Danube: functions of fourth century gold coins within barbarian societies Dragana Eremić

This paper seeks to examine the role of Roman gold coins from the fourth century AD found in barbarian territory beyond the Danube. The area under discussion is that of present day northern Serbia (Banat), Romania, and western Ukraine, which form part of the Carpathian basin. How were these coins perceived and used in Barbaricum? They most probably served special purposes in a prestige economy and they shared this function with a number of other media of exchange. They were often worn as jewellery, forming a status symbol for the owner, and this paper examines the possible transformation of the iconography these coins carried. What value did Roman coins and their associated iconography have for barbarian peoples? It has been argued that the imperial portrait must have been fascinating for the barbarian elite. But although the obverse of a coin, with its imperial portrait, obviously held a fascination for the barbarians, it is clear that the reverse iconography of these coins also had a value for their owner. Even if the obverse was most commonly displayed, there are still clear instances where the reverse was on display and was thus obviously also valued, and we need to begin asking ourselves why, and in what contexts this occurred. gold coins, Barbaricum, transformation of value, iconography, monetary pendants (jewellery)

Im Folgenden wird die Bedeutung römischer Goldmünzen des 4. Jh. n. Chr., die auf barbarischem Territorium jenseits der Donau gefunden wurden, untersucht. Es handelt sich um Teile des Karpatischen Beckens: das heutige nördliche Serbien (Banat), Rumänien und der Westen der Ukraine. Wie wurden diese Münzen im Barbarikum wahrgenommen und verwendet? Mit großer Wahrscheinlichkeit dienten sie besonderen Zwecken innerhalb einer Prestige-Wirtschaft und teilten diese Funktion mit anderen Tauschobjekten. Häufig sind sie als Schmuck nachweisbar, als Statussymbol für den Träger. Hier soll in diesem Zusammenhang vor allem die mögliche Transformation der Ikonographie der Münzen betrachtet werden. Welchen Wert hatten römische Münzen und die mit ihnen verbundene Ikonographie für die Menschen des Barbarikum? Es wird in der Forschung vorausgesetzt, dass das kaiserliche Porträt eine Faszination auf die barbarische Elite ausgeübt habe. Aber obwohl der Avers der Münze, mit dem Porträt des Kaisers, offensichtlich eine Faszination ausübte, wird deutlich, dass auch die Ikonographie der Rückseite einen Wert für den Besitzer darstellte. Auch wenn die ursprüngliche Vorderseite meist als Ansichtsseite nachweisbar bleibt, gibt es Hinweise darauf, dass der Revers bewusst gezeigt und so auch wertgeschätzt wurde. Wir müssen uns nun die Frage stellen, warum und in welchem Kontext dies geschah. Goldmünzen, Barbarikum, Transformation von Wert, Ikonographie, Münzschmuck (Anhänger)

Introduction This paper seeks to examine the role of Roman gold coins from the fourth century AD found in barbarian territory beyond the Danube.1 The area under discussion is that of present day northern Serbia (Banat), Romania, and western Ukraine, which form part of the Carpathian basin.

I would like to thank Dr. Clare Rowan and Prof. Fleur Kemmers for comments upon an earlier draft of this paper, and Dr. Clare Rowan for correcting my English. Thanks are also due to Prof. Hans-Markus von Kaenel, who has provided research guidance and support over several years. 1

The main aim of the paper is to see whether, and to what extent, the coins that were produced and used for payment within the Roman world changed their role once they left the Roman Empire; whether these items served another purpose within Barbarian society. In other words, how were these coins perceived and used in Barbaricum? How did this differ from their use and value within the later Roman Empire? Did the coins carry Roman values into Barbaricum? How were coins minted under the authority of a foreign power (the Roman Emperor) perceived? People in Barbaricum did not produce coinage of their own. What economic value did Roman coins possess, if any?

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World The presence of Roman coins in Barbaricum has been a topic of some interest. Aleksander Bursche in particular has dealt with the phenomenon in a number of his works.2 He mainly investigated the territory further north, east of the Elbe and north of the Carpathian Mountains and successfully demonstrated that Roman coins in Northern Europe, among other things, were often reused as amulets, ornaments or jewellery. They were perceived as high status commodities. They were also occasionally melted down and reused to construct more familiar, native valuables. The coins in northern Barbaricum most probably served special purposes in a prestige economy and they shared this function with a number of other media of exchange. Prohaska has demonstrated something similar for the Carpathian basin,3 but little work has been done on the transformation of the iconography these coins carried and this is what I will examine in this article. What value did Roman coins and their associated iconography have for Barbarian peoples living in the Carpathian basin? The area under consideration was home to a variety of barbarian peoples in the 4th century, but in general the Sarmatians can be found closer to the Danube,4 and the Goths and Gepids are located further north. The southern section of the region just north of the Danube is a difficult one to study, as it appears that Romans were also present in the area in the fourth century.5 Further north it is clear that the area was settled by barbarian peoples and therefore the finds from this region can be linked more securely to barbarian owners. Of course it is difficult or near impossible to determine ethnicity in the archaeological record, but the location of the finds further north suggests a non-Roman context.

Roman gold coins in Barbaricum To start examining the function of Roman coins within Barbaricum, we need first to see how these objects were used in the Roman world. There are differing opinions about the use of coins within the Roman Empire, let alone in Barbaricum. There are basically two opposing views on Roman money: one presumes a primitive situation where the state did not have an understanding of monetary affairs, while the other view supposes a fully monetised imperial system.6

Even if we assume that the Roman Empire was a highly monetised state, there were nevertheless other forms of exchange. It is not the purpose of this paper to go into a detailed discussion and to re-examine previous works exploring how much the Roman world was really monetised, but it is important to note that even in the Roman Empire, at least in some instances, we do find other modes of exchange,7 and coins served other purposes and roles beyond their monetary function.8 Bursche suggested that the most promising path to examine the function of Roman coins beyond the Rhine and the Danube lies in anthropological theories regarding the non-market economy, featured in the substantivist and primitivist debates sparked by K. Polanyi, with discussions relevant to our subject material by G. Dalto and R. Hodges.9 In many past societies the need for economic profit was not that important and social relationships were regulated by prestige and honour. The primitivist model can be very successfully applied to the study of the role of coins in Barbaricum.10 In Barbaricum, coins probably served special purposes in a prestige economy, and circulated as means of payment in socially or politically motivated transactions. Roman currency may have been used alongside other objects in gift exchange.11 How did Roman coins end up in Barbaricum? There are basically two possibilities in the fourth century: either the coins formed pay for the barbarians that served in the Roman army, or the coins were given to barbarian leaders as subsidies or diplomatic payments for good behaviour.12 Coins may also have arrived in the context of trade or as booty.13 Finds of gold coins are very rare in Barbaricum, which shows that these objects were part of a prestige economy. Many gold coins found in Barbaricum were pierced, or had suspension loops attached, which show clearly that they were intended to be worn as pendants. In Bursche’s study he observes that Roman coins also had an ideological role in barbarian society because of their iconography.14 He argued that the imperial portrait in particular would have been mysterious and fascinating to barbarian society, since portraiture was generally avoided in Barbaricum. For an analysis of other methods of exchange within the Roman Empire see Verboven 2009, 91-124. 8 van Heesch 2008, 49-57 9 Bursche 2008, 396 10 Bursche 2008, 397 11 Bursche 2008, 398 12 Using the literary evidence, Bursche gives the following mechanisms by which Roman coins could end up in Barbaricum: a one-off tribute (contribution), the ransoming of captives (redemptio captivorum), annual tribute (annua munera), army pay (stipendia and donativa) to barbarians serving in Roman auxiliary forces, the payment of specified sums under a treaty alliance with the barbarians (annonae foederaticae), and diplomatic gifts (Bursche 1996, 105 -23). 13 e.g. Duncan 1994, 14 14 See, for example, Bursche 2008, 400. 7

Bursche 1996; Bursche 1998; Bursche 2000, 758-71; Bursche 2001, 83-102; Bursche 2008, 395-416 3 Prohászka 2009, 471- 90 4 Soproni 1969, 121-2 5 Although it was previously assumed that the territories across the Danube were part of Barbaricum, recent research has demonstrated that the left side of the Danube, present day south Bačka and Banat in Serbia, was under the control of the Roman Empire. See M. Đorđevic 1995, 12533. 6 Greene 1992, 50. For a good recent overview of the extent to which we can speak about a monetised economy in the Roman Empire, and the benefits of economic anthropology, see Aarts 2005, 1- 28. 2

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D. Eremić, Coin finds beyond the danube He further argues that Roman coins were always worn so that the emperor’s portrait could be seen, demonstrated by the fact that many of the reverses on these specimens are very worn.15 Also the presence of uniface gold medallions, with no design on the reverse, shows the significance of the imperial portrait.16 However a coin has two sides, and while there is no doubt that the imperial portrait played a very significant role in Barbaricum, the reverse may also have held value for the barbarians, at least in some instances. Even if a coin necklace was initially worn with the portrait side showing, the movement of the wearer could shift the necklace, and perhaps twist it, so that the other side would also occasionally be displayed. If the coin formed an amulet for the owner, the reverse may have held value for the owner even if it was not on public display. It is also evident that the coin could be intentionally worn with the reverse side showing. For example, in the Museum in Požarevac, Serbia, there is a coin pendant made from a denarius of Julia Domna, mounted in a golden frame. The coin is placed in the necklace so that the reverse side is showing (Figure 1).17

and proudly displayed to others. Was particular reverse iconography avoided, and was other iconography sought after? Would a barbarian owner have recognised what was really represented in, say, an image of the emperor savagely kicking a fallen enemy (a barbarian), an image that was common throughout the fourth century? Would a barbarian have identified the barbarian in the image as himself, or would he have interpreted it as another ‘barbarian’? Or would they see something completely different in this type? Was it really only the precious metal that was of value to them, regardless of the iconography? This is somewhat difficult to believe. Let us now see what our material tells us about the functions of coins beyond the Danube. Given the constraints of the article, I focus only on the three largest hoards from the region here (Figure 2).19

The Szilágy Somlyó hoard The first example is the well-known Szilágy Somlyó (today Şimleu-Silvaniei) hoard, found in western Transylvania, Romania.20 This spectacular hoard was concealed at the end of the 4th century and contains jewellery, two Germanic imitations of Valens medallions and 12 large gold coins of high denomination (multipla). The possible owner could have been a Gepid, at a time when the Gepids were withdrawing in the face of the Hun invasion.21 There is no doubt that the medallions in particular would have played a very important role as status symbols for their owner. All of the multipla from the Şimleu-Silvaniei hoard had suspension loops and/or were mounted.22

Figure 1 Denarius of Julia Domna, mounted in a golden frame. Museum of Požarevac, Serbia.

Gold coins in Barbaricum could be worn, but were also melted down and then used for the production of jewellery and military fittings.18 This in part explains the very few finds of gold coins in this region. But not all coins were melted down; some solidi, at least, were preserved. The pieces that were kept are of interest: was the selection completely random, or was there a deliberate selection process? If a barbarian owner possessed a certain amount of coins, he might have decided to melt down some of them, but keep the more interesting coins to be worn as jewellery Bursche 2000, 764; Bursche 2008, 400 Only if we assume that the intended recipients of the uniface medallions were barbarians, not Roman army officials. The fact that they were all pierced and/or fitted with a suspension loop, and are mounted and often found beyond the frontier, strongly suggests that these medallions could have been issued for barbarians (Bland 2012, 1-9). 17 Popović 1993, 52, cat. number 8. Unfortunately the coin was stolen from the Museum in 1989. I thank curator Dragana Spasić – Đurić for this information. 18 Bursche 2008, 401; Prohászka 2009, 473

This hoard represents a clear case of the barbarian fascination with imperial portraits. From the positions of the suspension loops, there is no doubt that the coin pendants are meant to be worn obverse side up. Nonetheless let us examine the reverse representations (Figure 3).23 When we find here, for example, two of the same type from Valens, one cannot help but wonder whether these issues merely represent donativa from the emperor; thus iconographic selection was made in the Roman court. It may be that Romans and the barbarians received the same numismatic images, but the interesting thing is whether they valued and interpreted the types differently. We must admit that types with victory and the emperor are in general very common in this period; types of the 4th

15 16

For a full list of hoards (11 in total) found in the Carpathian basin see Prohászka 2009, 485. I wish to thank Dr. Orsolya Heinrich-Tamaska for permission to reproduce the map of the basin here. 20 Bursche 1998, 210-12; Bursche 2000, 758 21 Sasianu 1980, 85 22 A detailed list is given by Bursche 1998, 241-7. 23 It should be noted here that the reverse types of multipla are much more diverse and generally of a higher quality than the iconography seen on solidi. 19

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Figure 2 Hoards of the 4th century from the Carpathian basin considered in this article (Starčevo, Şimleu-Silvaniei and Brestov). (Map created by Dr. Orsolya Heinrich-Tamaska).

century are rather stereotyped, and tend to focus on the representation of the figure of the emperor, and frequently depict Victory, Roma, or Constantinopolis. In this sense, the images chosen by the barbarians correspond well with the language of images current in the Roman Empire in this period. However, albeit more rarely, other types did appear from time to time which were more connected with current affairs, and we cannot exclude the possibility that there was some selection process in choosing the coins. In particular it is noticeable that barbarian imitations imitate not just the obverse, but also the reverse of Roman types. In a society where the reverse was of no significance, this phenomenon was unlikely to occur. The most common type in this hoard is the emperor and victory. This iconography will also dominate the hoards examined below. The reverse scene could have provoked some psychological effect in their owners. It is evident that the imperial portrait on the obverse of Roman coinage was an important part of the object for barbarian owners. But if and when the emperor also appeared on the reverse of the coin (as in the examples here), could this have made the coin more attractive? The earlier example discussed above (Figure 1) is also an example of a coin in which the

emperor appeared on the reverse. The theme of Victory could also be appreciated by a variety of different people and easily adopted into many contexts. This may also have influenced barbarians in their selection of coins to convert into jewellery. Ultimately, however, the meaning or value assigned to these images is difficult to discern – did barbarians understand iconography in the same way as a Roman or not? It is impossible to know, but the use of Roman coinage as jewellery must to some extent have been influenced by the fact that Roman coins carried particular iconography. When a Roman coin was converted into a piece of jewellery both the object, and its associated iconography, underwent a transformation in value. Let us now turn to the remaining two hoards.

The Starčevo hoard The second selected case study is the hoard of Starčevo,24 which was discovered in 1866 near Pančevo, Banat, in The Starčevo hoard was first published by Vasić, 2001, 175-200; and Popović, 2004, 217-24. 24

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D. Eremić, Coin finds beyond the danube

Figure 3 Coins from the Szilágy Somlyó hoard.

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World northern Serbia. Unfortunately the context of the find is not known. Three golden Zwiebelknopf fibulae, a golden torque, two golden earrings, 12 gold coins (two of them counterfeit) and silver plate were found.25 Seven gold coins ended up in the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna.26 Initially the find was associated with a Germanic owner, based on the two counterfeit gold coins, the torque, and the earrings.27 However, Vasić suggested that the owner might have been a Roman soldier, giving the following reasons: a torque might also have been worn by Roman soldiers, the Starčevo hoard was found in a territory very close to the Danube and thus possibly under Roman control, and the suggestion that the counterfeit coins were Roman, not barbarian, creations.28 However, it still seems more convincing that this hoard should be linked to a Sarmatian leader,29 since two imitations of Roman solidi were part of the find. It is thus less likely that the hoard represents an official donation to a distinguished Roman citizen.30 All of the coins in the hoard were perforated, and two out of the twelve coins had loops attached so they could be worn as jewellery.31 Loops are not uncommon in the Roman world, where coins were also worn as jewellery, and coins with loops could even appear again in circulation. However, the fact that the coins in this hoard were all pierced means that the find is perhaps better associated with a barbarian owner. These pierced specimens could not have easily re-entered monetary circulation, since they had lost some of their weight. In addition, it was not normal Roman practice to pierce solidi; to do so would be a sacrilege (maiestas) to the Imperial majesty.32 The Late Roman method of converting coins into jewellery was not to pierce them, but to place the coins in decorated frames,33 or to solder a loop on the edge of the coin (Figure 4),34 although it cannot be excluded that pierced coins were used as necklace pendants in the Roman territories, since a large amount of pierced coins are found in the early Byzantine period.35 But in Callu and Loriot’s study only seven examples out of the 1,922 single finds from Gaul and Germany are pierced.36 Piercing coins for use as jewellery is thus a more widespread phenomenon in Barbaricum.37 In addition to the two imitation coins in the

Two hundred and forty denarii were found in the area as well, but it has been assumed that these are not connected with the fourth century find (Vasić 2001, 175). 26 Noll 1974, 69; cited in Popović 2004, 222 27 Noll 1974, 69, cited in Popović 2004, 223 28 Vasić 2001, 175-200. Vasić also suggests that ‘the find from Starčevo could have belonged to a senior officer of the Roman army or perhaps a foederatus (Vasić 2008, 76). 29 Ivanišević, Bugarski 2008, 40 30 Through a comparison with other hoards, Vasić regards the Starčevo hoard as an official imperial largitio (Vasić 2001, 197-201). 31 According to Kenner, the two specimens concerned had their pierced holes filled with silver. Vasić assumed that these two coins were fitted with the loops (Popović 2004, 222). 32 Vasić 2001, 198 33 Popović 2004, 222. For more detail and an analysis of monetary pendants see Popović 1993, 49-60. 34 Popović 2004, 222-3 35 See, amongst others, Popović 2004, 223. 36 Callu and Loriot 1990, cited in Bland 2012, 4. 37 Callu 1991 25

Figure 4 Solidus of Crispus. RIC VII, 471, no. 24, National Museum in Budapest.

hoard of Starčevo, a series of other Roman gold coins were found (Figure 5).38 This once again leads us to wonder whether the barbarian fascination with the portrait of the emperor had an influence on the selection of particular coins to convert into jewellery, meaning that coins which had the emperor on the obverse and the reverse may have been more attractive. Such a suggestion implies an understanding of Roman reverse numismatic iconography on behalf of the barbarian peoples, or at least, the ability to recognise the image of an emperor outside of the obverse imperial portrait. In order to know whether these coins were deliberately selected, one would need to first examine the frequency of these types within the Roman Empire, and then compare this with the hoards from Barbaricum. If there were a significantly higher number of coins with reverse types showing the emperor in Barbaricum hoards, then we might see a deliberate selection process. One would require a significantly higher number of hoards than presented here in order to obtain statistically valid information, but the path remains open for future research. The last hoard examined here demonstrates the potential of research in this area. The wear of the coins in this hoard reveals something of the value assigned to these items by their new owners. The Ormód hoard (Brestov) was discovered in 1892 in Brestov in western Ukraine.39 Three of the coins in the hoard were pierced, and ten had suspension loops. The find also included golden chain fragments and small ingots.40 The find is kept today in the National Museum in Budapest and from the museum inventory book and early publication I was able to reconstruct some of the coin types in the hoard (Figure 6).41

RIC reference according to Vasić 2001, 197. Lehóczky 1892; Kuzsinszky 1892; Kropotkin 1962, 222; Kropotkin 2005 40 Kropotkin 2005, 123 41 Kuzsinszky 1892, 336-8. I would like to thank Dr. Melinda Torbágyi for being so kind as to show me the coins and inventory book. 38 39

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D. Eremić, Coin finds beyond the danube

Figure 5 Details of the coins found in the Starčevo hoard.

Again the most frequent reverse type is the figure of emperor. Of particular interest here are the types with Alamannia and Sarmatia. We also find two types with the emperor and a barbarian. Although it was normal practice in barbarian society to display the obverse of the coin, there are examples where this was not the case, and this hoard forms one such example. In order to demonstrate the importance that reverse iconography might hold for a barbarian owner, two coins from this hoard from the mint of Sirmium repay closer examination.

The first coin is a solidus of Crispus, with the reverse legend VICTORIA CRISPI CAES, and a reverse type showing Victory standing with a shield at her side and holding another shield inscribed VOT X.42 As can be observed from the picture (Figure 4), although the position of the suspension loop shows that the coin was originally intended to be worn obverse side up, the obverse of the coin is much more worn than the reverse, demonstrating

42

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RIC VII, 471, no. 24

Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World

Figure 6 Coins from the Ormód hoard.

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D. Eremić, Coin finds beyond the danube that the reverse was probably what was on display when this piece was worn as a piece of jewellery. This is a clear case of reverse iconography having a particular value or significance for a barbarian owner. The other coin of interest is a solidus struck for the emperor Valens, which depicts the emperor standing holding a labarum and Victory on a globe, with the legend RESTITVTOR REI PVBLICAE.43 The coin is pierced right through the emperor’s head (Figure 7). For Romans, the piercing of the coin would have been considered an offence to the represented emperor; for barbarians, at least here, it was not as important to have an ‘intact’ imperial image. Thus it was not so problematic to piece the coin through the head, whereas a Roman may have been more tempted to pierce the coin at the top, avoiding the emperor’s portrait entirely.

Figure 7 Solidus of Valens, RIC IX, 158, no. 1b, National Museum in Budapest.

Another phenomenon can be observed in this hoard. There are two coins from a much earlier period, issues of Marcus Aurelius and Sabina. Could this represent an inheritance or an heirloom within one family? If this were the case the objects would change their value over time as well as space. The presence of these two older coins here suggests that once a gold coin did enter barbarian society it retained its value, regardless of the fact that the monetary system of the Romans changed.

Conclusion Romans were present in the territory of the Carpathian basin and the barbarian people living there were therefore in close contact with them. It was thus more likely for them to become familiar with particular Roman cultural practices than, for example, people living further north in Barbaricum. The various forms of contact could have

43

affected the social and psychological consciousness of barbarian people. The solidi found in Barbaricum had a very limited monetary role. Instead they performed various social and political roles in a system of gift exchange. Roman gold was often melted down to be reused in more local valuables, but some items were also kept to be worn as jewellery that showed the high rank of its owner. Although the obverse, with its imperial portrait, obviously held a fascination for the barbarians, it is clear that the reverse iconography of these coins also had a value for their owner. Even if the obverse was most commonly displayed, there are still clear instances where the reverse was on display and was thus obviously also valued, and we need to begin asking ourselves why, and in what contexts this occurred. Much more research on type selection needs to be performed, but it is a promising path of investigation. The nature of a coin, with its imagery, meant that when it travelled outside the Roman Empire not only did the object itself undergo a transformation of value, but so too did its iconography. By beginning to understand how Roman iconography was used and interpreted in barbarian society, we can begin to better understand the transformation of value and meaning as coins left Roman society. Ultimately the reception of these pieces was done at an individual level; thus while many individuals were interested in the obverse, it is clear that some found the reverse imagery to be the most fascinating. Perhaps, the barbarian elite who had close contact with the Roman authorities aspired to their way of living; they imitated them in a way, adopting their taste and fashion. They might have enjoyed wearing Roman coins as jewellery with representations of the emperors who gave them those very coins as gifts in the first place.

Bibliography Abbreviations Coh. RIC VII RIC VIII

RIC IX, 158, no. 1b

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Cohen, H. 1880-92. Description historique des monnaies frappées sous l’empire Romain, communement appellées Médailles impériales (2nd ed.). Paris, Rollin & Feuardent. Bruun, P. 1966. Roman Imperial Coinage VII, Constantine and Licinius, A. D. 313–337. London, Spink and Son Ltd. Kent, J. P. C. 1981. Roman Imperial Coinage VIII, The Family of Constantine I, A. D. 337–364. London, Spink and Son Ltd.

Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World RIC IX

Pearce, J. W. E. 1951. Roman Imperial Coinage IX, Valentinian I–Theodosius I. London, Spink and Son Ltd.

Aarts, J. 2005. Coins, money and exchange in the Roman world. A cultural-economic perspective. Archaeological Dialogues 12, 1-28. Bland, R. 2012. Gold for the Barbarians? Uniface gold medallions of the house of Constantine found in Britain and Ireland. Britannia, 1-9. Bursche, A. 1996. Later Roman-Barbarian Contacts in Central Europe (Spätrömische Münzfunde aus Mitteleuropa 11). Berlin, Gebrüder Mann Verlag. Bursche, A. 1998. Złote medaliony rzymskie w Barbaricum. Symbolika prestiżu i władzy społeczeństw barbarzyńskich u schyłku starożytności. Warszawa, Instytut archeologii uniwersytetu Warszawskiego. Bursche, A. 2000. Roman gold medaillions in Barbaricum. Symbols of power and prestige of Germanic elite in Late Antiquity. In B. Kluge and B. Weisser (eds), Proceedings of the XII International Numismatic Congress in Berlin, 758-71. Berlin, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin. Bursche, A. 2001. Roman gold medallions as power symbols of the Germanic elite. In B. Magnus (ed.), Roman Gold and Development of the Early Germanic Kingdoms, 83-102. Stockholm, Kungliga Vitterhets. Bursche, A. 2008. Function of Roman coins in Barbaricum of Later Antiquity. An anthropological essay. In A. Bursche (ed.), Roman Coins outside the Empire. Ways and Phases, Contexts and Functions, 395-416. Wetteren, Moneta. Callu J.-P. 1991. La perforation de l’or romain. In H.C. Noeske and H. Schubert (eds), Die Münze - BildBotschaft- Bedeutung, Festschrift für Maria RadnotiAlföldi, 99-121. Frankfurt am Main, Peter Lang. Callu J.-P. and X. Loriot 1990. L’or monnayé II: La dispersion des aurei en Gaule romaine sous l’Empire. Juan-les-Pins, Cahiers Ernest Babelon. Đorđević, M. 1996. Contribution to the study of the Roman Limes in South Banat. In P. Petrović (ed.), Roman Limes on the Middle and Lower Danube, Đerdapske sveske, posebna izdanja 2, 125-33. Belgrade, Archeological Institute. Duncan, G. L. 1994. Coin Circulation in the Danubian and Balkan Provinces of the Roman Empire AD 294578. London, Royal Numismatic Society. Green, K. 1992, The Archaeology of the Roman Economy. Berkeley and Los Angeles, University of California Press. Ivanišević, I. and V. Bugarski 2008. Western Banat during the Great Migration Period. In B. Niezabitowska – Wiśniewska et al. (eds). The Turbulent Epoch. New Materials from the Late Roman Period and the Migration Period, 39-61. Lublin, Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Marii Curie-Skłodowskiej. Kropotkin, V. V. 2005. Les trouvailles de monnaies romaines en U. R. S. S. Wetteren, Moneta.

Kuzsinszky, B. 1892. Az ormódi aranykincs érmei. Archaelogiai Értesitő 12, 225-338. Lehóczky, T. 1892. Az ormódi aranykincsről. Archaelogiai Értesitő 12, 75-6. Noll, R. 1974. Vom Altertum zum Mittelalter. Katalog der Antikensammlung I. Wien, Kunsthistorisches Museum. Popović, I. 1993. Rimski monetarni nakit u Srbiji. Numizmatičar 16, 49-60. Popović, I. 2004. Notes on gold and silver objects from the Starčevo find (Serbia). In C. Balmelle et al. (eds), Mélanges d’antiquité tardive. Studiola in honorem Noël Duval, 217-24. Turnhout, Brepols. Prohászka, P. 2009. Die römischen Goldmünzen der Spätkaiserzeit aus dem Barbaricum des Karpatenbeckens. In S. Bíró (ed.), Ex officina. Studia in honorem Dénes Gabler, 471-90. Győr, Mursella. Sǎşianu, A. 1980. Moneda anticǎ in vestul şi nord-vestul Romǎniei. Ancient Coinage in Western and NorthWestern Romania. Orodea, Muzeul Țării Crișurilor. Soproni, S. 1969. Limes Sarmatiae. Archaelogiai Értesitő 96, 43-53. van Heesch, J. 2008. On the edge of the market economy: coins used in social transactions, as ornaments and as bullion in the Roman Empire. In A. Bursche (ed.), Roman Coins outside the Empire. Ways and Phases, Contexts and Functions, 49-57. Wetteren, Moneta. Vasić, M. 2001. Osvrt na nalaz IV veka iz Starčeva. Zbornik Narodnog muzeja XVII.1, 175-201. Vasić, M. 2008. Gold and Silver Coins of Late Antiquity (284–450 AD) in the Collection of the National Museum in Belgrade. Belgrade, National Museum. Verboven, K. 2009. Currency, bullion and accounts. Monetary modes in the Roman world. Revue Belge de Numismatique 155, 91-124.

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From manufactured goods to significant possessions: theorising pottery consumption in late antique Anatolia William Anderson

Roman-period table ceramics such as bowls and dishes display a basic uniformity across large spans of time and space, and this sameness has led archaeologists to ways of thinking about the material as reflecting political, economic and cultural integration - a global consumer market in which people bought into a set of material-cultural values. But while certain shapes, fabrics, colours and decorations seem to make up a language that was understood across geographical and political boundaries, within the pottery medium countless dialects related to practices and identities specific to regions, settlements, and at the scale of neighbourhoods and households. Recognising these contingent meanings opens up possibilities for seeing manufactured objects not as a gauge of systemic economic conditions or cultural groupings but as ‘significant possessions’ which had value and agency in the past. This article focuses on the consumption of pottery in central Anatolia, using a case study from Pessinus to consider how mass-produced objects, which were available to most social classes, gained value through their deployment in specific physical situations. consumption, materiality, cultural biography, late antiquity, Pessinus

Tafelgeschirr römischer Zeit, so zum Beispiel Schalen und Teller, ist durch eine grundlegende Einheitlichkeit über große Zeit- und Raumspannen charakterisiert. Diese Einheitlichkeit führte in der Archäologie zu dem Schluss, dass es sich um eine Wiederspiegelung der politischen, ökonomischen und kulturellen Integration handelt; ein globaler Konsumentenmarkt, mithilfe dessen Menschen sich Werte materieller Kultur aneignen konnten. Während jedoch bestimmte Formen, Strukturen, Farben und Dekorationstypen eine Sprache bildeten, die über geographische und politischen Grenzen hinweg verstanden wurde, findet man innerhalb der Gattung Keramik zahlreiche ‚Dialekte‘, die in Zusammenhang mit regionalen Handlungskonzepten und Identitäten stehen; auf das Umfeld einer Siedlung, wenn nicht sogar auf eine Nachbarschaft oder einzelne Haushalte begrenzt sein konnten. Diese Erkenntnis bildet die Voraussetzung für eine neue Sicht auf handwerkliche Objekte, die nicht auf die reine Bewertung systemisch-ökonomischer Umstände oder Bestimmung kultureller Gruppierungen beschränkt bleibt, sondern diese als ‚bedeutende Besitztümer‘ mit Wert und als Bedeutungsträger versteht. Der Schwerpunkt dieses Artikels liegt auf der Konsumption von Töpferwaren in Zentralanatolien. Es soll am Beispiel von Pessinus gezeigt werden, wie in Massen produzierte Objekte, die für fast alle sozialen Schichten erhältlich waren, eine Wertsteigerung durch den Einsatz bei einer speziellen Handlung erfahren konnten. Konsumption, Materialität, kulturelle Biographie, Spätantike, Pessinus

Introduction: biographies

artefact

typologies

and

cultural

In an age of unprecedented commodity proliferation and hyper-consumption, in which experiences of distance and time are shrunk by transport and communications technologies, it is perhaps harder than ever to conceive of times when the quantity and range of material culture were lesser. The ‘conceptual challenge’ lies in accepting a material world that was experienced differently in the past, where contemporary standards and senses are not necessarily applicable.1 Such is the case with the ways

that objects gain value, which is not determined according to universal, rational precepts, but may be seen as arbitrary, involving transactions through multiple, socially constructed contexts, where meaning is drawn from a variety of relationships among persons and things.2 The particularity of an object’s value is supported by theories of material culture as being ‘meaningfully constituted’, the result of people’s ideas and beliefs and located in both the outcome and process of human action, rather than as the product of underlying cultural systems.3 Objects acquire meaning within ‘genres of social action’, through 2

1

Insoll 2007

3

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Gosden and Marshall 1999 Hodder 1986; Johnson 1999, 101

Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World their physical use and exchange as ‘things in motion’, and in some cases by ‘cultural transmission’, in which their materiality transcends human agency.4 Objects may themselves have agency and affect history through their dynamic role in fields of practice, acquiring cultural biographies as they intersect with the lives of people and other things.5 The active dimension of material culture is expressed by John Robb in his concept of ‘the extended artefact’, defined as ‘the artefact with its extension into social space and time’, and ‘the shadowy entity which includes not only the physical thing itself, but also all the conditions, plans and meanings humans surround it with’.6 Concepts such as these, which connect objects with human agency, pose a challenge to traditional ways of thinking and working with artefacts, such as typologies that differentiate on the basis of style. The disparity is evident in conventions used to present archaeological data that separate artefacts from their excavation context, which Richard Bradley links with the persistent influence of natural and earth sciences on the study of artefacts and stratigraphy.7 Typologies are arguably suited to thinking about material culture as reflecting underlying systems, such as systems of trade and exchange, rather than being the product of human agency in the short term. The placement of artefacts within taxonomies of form and style may thus create a barrier between objects and the ‘genres of social action’ in which they were situated. If objects are made and manipulated by people conscious of their historical disposition, reproducing and resisting the structures that they encounter, it follows that analysis should concentrate on those social contexts. Artefacts did not exist in isolation from the fields of practice which gave them meaning. John Moreland argues that the modern fixation on artefacts and texts as evidence in the present may serve to deny the history of those who made and manipulated objects in the past.8 Drawing on the work of Janet Hoskins, who describes how the human imagination may transform everyday items into ‘significant possessions’9, Moreland writes that objects and texts are ‘… not simply essentialist reflections of an inner (given) reality. Rather, they were actively used in the production and transformation of identities; they were used in the projection of, and in resistance to, power; and they were used to create meaning in, and to structure, the routines of everyday life’.10 With these perspectives in mind, my aim in this article is to show how the consumption of everyday items forms an arena in which social identity is constructed and broadcast. Robb 2004; Appadurai 1986; Rowlands 2005 Gosden and Marshall 1999; Hoskins 2006 6 Robb 2004, 133, 137 7 Bradley 2006 8 Moreland 2001, 77-80 9 Hoskins 1998 10 Moreland 2001, 80 4 5

My focus is on the consumption of ceramics in central Anatolia during late antiquity (c. AD 350-650). I first outline approaches to Roman ceramics and the influence of typology on ways of thinking about the material before presenting a case study of ‘non-utilitarian’ ceramic objects whose attributes and context point to their active use in the construction and projection of social values. The locally situated value of these decorated items may be equally applicable to ‘utilitarian’ things which are more often seen as source material for reconstructing economic and political systems.

Roman pottery: classification and contextualisation Investigating how objects attain value through human agency may be especially well directed towards the discipline of Roman archaeology because of its longestablished conventions of artefact classification and preference for systems thinking that supports political claims on Roman heritage. People in the Roman Empire inhabited a world of material abundance and diversity which appears to bear some resemblance to modern and contemporary globalised networks. Among this world of things, certain material categories – pottery, inscriptions, civic monuments – display consistencies in their form and style and appear to be part of a Roman socio-cultural package. As archaeologists, we use these patterns of resemblance to classify and divide, but ultimately to group as a whole: a corpus. But, do these attempts to tame the material into ordered categories diminish the diverse values of things in the past? Are we responsible for homogenising material culture and imposing contemporary distinctions and standards to create a Roman ‘consumer culture’ in our own image? Pottery analysis is a discrete sub-field in Roman archaeology. The treatment of pottery artefacts, from their collection and processing to classification, representation and interpretation, is deeply engrained in archaeological habit. The material is widely viewed as supporting evidence that is ancillary to other lines of investigation, especially concerning economic, ethnic and cultural groupings. As a category, Roman pottery is viewed as relatively unproblematic, its attributes having been codified into typologies that are modified as new information comes to light, but in themselves are largely uncontested. Its physical qualities – broad similarity in shape and style that is characteristic of industrial production, long-term continuity over decades and centuries, its sheer abundance at most Roman sites, and the sites and contexts that are privileged by excavators – lend themselves to such classification. However, perhaps the main motivation behind typological approaches is the use of pottery as an ‘archaeological resource’ which supports arguments concerning imperial systems and cultural diffusion.

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W. Anderson, From manufactured goods to significant possessions The role of Roman pottery as evidence in the present has its roots in the ways that archaeologists have sought to group material which is identified with archaeological cultures.11 Red tableware pottery appears a quintessentially Roman product because its qualities fit the expectation of homogeneity that accord with ideas of the Roman Empire as a coherent cultural block. In the past, this has supported concepts of Romanisation as being analogous with the aims and practices of European imperialist nation states; nowadays, it may serve comparisons with contemporary globalised capitalism and the mass production and movement of consumer goods. The potential for appreciating the past value of pottery objects is thus constrained by the anticipated use of the material, for example, to trace the distribution of a given ceramic class, in the expectation that by charting its circulation some truth will emerge about the underlying economic system. Furthermore, analytical approaches that regard ceramics as ‘type-fossils’, used to reconstruct economic and political systems, may privilege production as part of a macroeconomic system and obscure consumption as a social action occurring at a local scale. It is arguably through practices of consumption rather than patterns of production that value is generated. Instead of marking an end point where the value amassed during production is spent, consumption may be seen as the start of an object’s use-life, in which its value is transformed in the hands and mind of the consumer.12 One benefit of pursuing what Daniel Miller terms the ‘specificity of particular forms of consumption and particular genres of commodity’, is that it negates assumptions of a capitalist framework that may be anachronistic to past cultures.13 More fundamentally, tracing cultural biographies demonstrates how value is generated through ‘human transactions, attributions and motivations’14. The typo-chronology of Late Roman finewares developed during the second half of the 20th century concentrated on the products of large-scale pottery production centres, especially the ‘big three’ Red Slip Ware products: African, Phocean and Cypriot or Late Roman D, which were widely exported throughout the Mediterranean and beyond. Longterm continuity, manifested in gradual morphological change, is the basis for the type series developed by John Hayes in his influential book Late Roman Pottery, based on excavated assemblages from sites including Athens, which remains the primary work of reference for 3rd to 7th-century tablewares.15 Since this publication, surveys, excavations and finds analyses have shown that the ‘big three’ wares derived from groups of factories rather than single locations, and have highlighted widespread imitation, even at places close to the origin of the ‘genuine’ products.16 Even so, the dominance of a few major centres Jones 1997, 15-39 Miller 2006 13 Miller 2006 14 Appadurai 1986, 5 15 Hayes 1972 16 For example, Phocean bowls (Hayes’ Form 3), which were widely 11

12

over the ceramic export industry remains the framework for studying Late Roman pottery.17 A consequence of the observation that large-scale production took place at a limited number of centres is that pottery is regarded primarily as a resource of economic information. Gradual change in style and widespread copying of forms supports ideas of pottery as a unifying medium that was consumed by a conformist market across large spans of space and time: residents of 4th-century Antioch used identical, African-produced dishes as their contemporaries in Athens;18 the same basic amphora shape was produced in Beirut over seven or more centuries.19 Such continuity may be seen as reflective and formative of Roman acculturation, a ‘shared code’ that transcends geographical and ethnic boundaries.20 But this assessment may be criticised in a number of ways. First, stylistic variation may have been overstated in an attempt to assign types to single production centres, one example being provenance studies of unguentaria, small flasks used to carry oil.21 Second, large and long-lived ‘supra-regional exporters’ were the exception rather than the rule, and especially in places distant from coastal trading routes, the bulk of pottery was produced locally.22 Third, and perhaps most significant, is the assumption that stylistic traits ‘reflect’ the identity of consumers. Yet, homogeneity in form does not equate with homogenous meaning once in the hands of the consumer: the shared code may be ruptured to reveal differences in the way that objects are valued.23 Material categories that are taken for granted may be questioned to reveal what Sian Jones calls ‘the powerful influence of expectations of homogeneity and resemblance in the creation of cultural types and entities’.24 Broad stylistic consistencies may have caused minor differences to assume heightened significance, which Roman Roth describes in relation to Early Republican black gloss wares in Italy as a ‘tension between homogeneity and heterogeneity’.25 Likewise, an identical product’s value could have been conceived differently not only between Antioch and Athens, but in different households and neighbourhoods within these cities, and among different circulated in the first half of the 5th to the later 6th century, originate from Phocea (Foça) and nearby locations on the west coast of Anatolia (Hayes 1972, 329; Hayes 1980; Vaag 2005). But these forms were also copied at many other places, including cities relatively close to Phocea such as Assos (Zelle 2003) and Sardis (Rautman 1996). 17 Hayes 2001; Hayes 2005 18 Hayes 2008 19 Reynolds 2008 20 Rowlands 2007 21 When Hayes first described Late Roman unguentaria, he considered them to originate from Palestine (Hayes 1971), more recently naming Pisidia or Pamphylia to be a likely source (Hayes 2008, 116). However, this form cannot be attributed to a single production centre, as shown by ‘local’ examples from several sites including Aphrodisias (Hudson 2008, 329-4) and Hierapolis (Cottica 1998). 22 Lewit 2011 23 Rowlands 2007, 57; Roth 2007b 24 Jones 2007, 85 25 Roth 2007a, 207

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World inhabitants of the same house. The context of consumption is therefore where the value of cultural forms is created and transformed, where local traditions may be sustained and integrated with ‘global’ practices to result in hybrid material cultures.26 Given the multitude of published Roman pottery assemblages, it is perhaps surprising how few studies have addressed ceramic consumption as being bound up within social relations and daily practice. Interpretation of stylistic diversity and homogeneity remains focused on functional explanation, using typological approaches to determine chronology and provenance, examine production techniques, trace distribution patterns and trade and economic systems. Less attention has been paid to the significance of material culture as it was utilised and conceived of in fields of practice. This may be partly due to the tradition in archaeological thought, described above, of separating artefacts from their context.27 However, it also has to do with methods of pottery analysis and interpretation, where determination of form, fabric and decoration are expected to reveal the ‘common sense’ decisions of producers and consumers, a tendency that Paul Blinkhorn critiques in relation to Anglo-Saxon pottery.28 Increasingly, though, the attributes of Roman-period finds are integrated with other forms of archaeological information, focusing attention on past contexts of consumption.29 Several recent studies have drawn links between cultural forms and their usage in particular fields of practice, with changes in form being suggestive of new genres of social action.30 Agriculture and subsistence practices may be discerned in the form of ceramic vessels, for example, Paul Arthur highlights regional patterns in farming, diet and food preparation through the correspondence between the shape of cooking pots and faunal remains.31 Similarly, trends in dining habits may be linked with ceramic forms and their appearance in domestic contexts: John Lund observes that the presence of drinking cups in the Hellenistic and Roman period and their absence in the later Roman ceramic repertoire hints at shifts in consumption practices and social display.32 Changes in the shape of particular vessels such as enlarged forms of African dishes in the 3rd and 4th centuries and smaller bowls from Phocea in the 5th and 6th centuries, similarly suggest new practices of communal dining.33 Dining practices are investigated by Joanita Vroom in a review of pictorial, architectural and artefactual remains which are used to reconstruct the accoutrements of elite dining rooms, in which diners were configured around stibadium type couches and utensils

Hodos 2010 Bradley 2006 28 Blinkhorn 1997 29 Willis and Hingley 2007 30 Jones 1997, 106-27; Robb 2004, 135; Roth 2007a 31 Arthur 2007 32 Lund 2006, 216 33 Hawthorne 1997; Vroom 2003, 230

were shared and food eaten with hands from communal dishes.34 These studies successfully integrate pottery with related artefacts, ecofacts and contextual information to focus attention on the social settings in which material culture was consumed.

Pottery consumption in late antique Anatolia I now turn to a specific regional situation by reviewing the classification and interpretation of pottery in central Anatolia (Figure 1). An important development in Roman pottery studies was the discovery in 1987 of a major pottery production site at Sagalassos, an inland city of southwest Turkey.35 Excavations at the potters’ quarters east of this city found that fine, red-slipped tableware was produced here on a large scale between the late 1st century BC to 7th century AD; a detailed typo-chronology by Jeroen Poblome secured the status of Sagalassos Red Slip Ware (SRSW) within the canon of late Roman finewares.36 But instead of compartmentalising this product as an isolated pottery class and an anomaly in the fineware scene, research at Sagalassos has encouraged new ideas and questions about regional and local material culture more generally. Pottery production at Sagalassos has been framed in terms of the ability to control resources, particularly land containing clay sources, fuel and water, and a labour force.37 The start of large-scale production coincides with the presence in southern Anatolia of settlers from Italy who may have been inspired or directly influenced by models taken from pre-existing centres in Italy and the Aegean coast of western Anatolia.38 This suggests an entrepreneurial initiative led by powerful landowners, closely linked with the agricultural economy, and with affinities to Italian/Roman cultural trends. The longevity of SRSW production does not mean, however, that the industry was unchanging: mechanisms of production, distribution and consumption would have operated differently during late antiquity from those at the time of the industry’s establishment, undergoing a noticeable transformation in the 7th century towards a household scale of production.39 Neither was SRSW necessarily an exceptional product in comparison with other regional pottery centres. Though the site stands out as especially long-lived, large-scale, and linked with distribution networks as distant as Egypt and Greece,40 mass-produced tablewares with mainly regional distribution ranges were typical of many places in central Anatolia.

26 27

Vroom 2007 Poblome 1995 36 Poblome 1999 37 Poblome 1995, 501-4; Poblome and Brulet 2005 38 Poblome and Zelle 2002 39 Vionis et al. 2009 40 Poblome and Waelkens 2003 34 35

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Figure 1 Central Anatolia, with Roman sites and provinces. Map created by author.

The overlapping nature of local pottery industries in the Anatolian interior has been highlighted by careful documentation of certain fabrics and forms across large areas and by a willingness among researchers to challenge classifications of types such as Asia Minor Ware and Cypriot Red Slip Ware (CRSW) and their supposed derivatives.41 CRSW has been especially problematic in classification schemes, for while production sites are located on Cyprus, the same basic suite of shapes was made at numerous locations in the northeast Mediterranean basin and hinterland regions.42 To call these products imitations or derivatives implies an original or prototype which is being copied. Jeroen Poblome and Nalan Fırat recently argued that ceramic types previously known as ‘Late Roman D’, including CRSW and SRSW, should be reconsidered as ‘part of a broader, socio-cultural and socio-economic common language or koine of pottery production’.43 The analogy of material culture and written texts, which is well established in interpretative

archaeology,44 is apt for distinguishing such ‘families’ of material culture. It may be extended further to argue that a common language encouraged the formation of local dialects, whose meanings relate to social groupings within settlements and at smaller scales of interaction.

41

Poblome et al. 2001 Hayes 2001, 277-8 43 Poblome and Fırat 2011, 49

44

42

45

Another pottery production site was recently documented at Pednelissos, a city south of Sagalassos, where the forms are based loosely on CRSW.45 The difficulty of distinguishing between imitation and genuine CRSW is conveyed in Franke Kenkel’s remark that ‘the term derivative has been chosen because the term imitation is connected with a lower quality …’.46 This hints at how a typological hierarchy is maintained in Roman pottery studies, in which local products are judged inferior to imports. But the significance of these urban pottery centres is not necessarily in the quality of their product or how closely it corresponds with widely distributed types, it is the continuity of production and pottery forms over Johnson 1999, 109-10 Kenkel 2007; Vandeput et al. 2009 46 Kenkel 2007, 134

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World long time periods. The persistence of long-lived forms of storage and cooking vessel from Beirut and the Levantine region is described by Paul Reynolds in terms of ‘linear typologies’, specific to certain region- and city-based production sites.47 These geographically situated objects relate with the social context and identities of specific places, in the sense of the shared code, language or family of cultural forms that I have already mentioned. Industrial production at workshops and manufactories, distribution ranges at the scale of settlements and hinterlands and sometimes wider regions, and consumption of local over imported wares, are recurring characteristics of the ceramic scene in central Anatolia during the 5th to 7th centuries.48 In domestic contexts at Aphrodisias, the dominance of local tableware (called Brittle Ware) and paucity of imports is interpreted by Nicholas Hudson as ‘a deliberate preference for local ceramic production rather than a lack of access to international markets’.49 At Hierapolis in Phrygia, where assemblages from domestic contexts of the 6th and early 7th century consist mostly of local products, and only 10% of tablewares are imported, there is also an apparent opting out of the market in mainstream products.50 At Aizanoi, where red and grey tablewares were made throughout the Roman period, large-scale importation during the 1st century AD contrasts with low levels in late antiquity: apart from a small spike in African Red Slip Ware in the 5th century, imported tablewares are rare, and not a single sherd of Phocean Red Slip Ware has been found.51 The situation at Amorium is comparable, where Late Roman assemblages are dominated by red-coated wares,52 which are suggested as a type common to central Anatolia.53 This accords with findings from Pessinus, where mass importation of ceramics from the 1st century BC to 2nd century AD, especially from the Pergamum region (Eastern Sigillata C, Çandarlı Ware), is reversed during late antiquity, when up to 90% of fine tableware (termed Slip Ware) is identified as locally produced.54 How can this preference for local pottery be explained? Were inland cities cut off by their geographical position from lines of trade that were thriving in the Mediterranean? Or was the lack of participation in the export market a deliberate decision? Were imported ceramics being consciously rejected and local products embraced? By looking more closely at one particular, and it might be said,

Reynolds 2008 Peacock 1982, 9-10 Hudson 2008, 333 50 Cottica 1998; Cottica 2000; Cottica 2005, 659 51 Ateş 2003, 208 52 Claudia Wagner in Lightfoot and Ivison 1995, 121-2; BöhlendorfArslan 2007. Excavations have focused on the Byzantine city, and most ceramic finds are coarsewares of the 7th to 11th centuries (Lightfoot 2007, 283). Ceramics of the Iron Age, Hellenistic and Early Roman periods have been documented in the Upper City (Lucy Brown in Lightfoot and Kuniholm 1994, 114-17). 53 Harrison 1990, 214 54 Thoen 2003 47 48 49

peculiar form of pottery object, I will suggest that ceramic consumers were actively adapting the value of objects that they possessed, a consciousness that intensified during late antiquity, in tandem with new institutions, power structures and a steep social hierarchy. These objects were not just units in a world of material goods where the meaning was already encoded prior to their acquisition – they could become significant possessions whose value was actively shaped by their users.

Powerful objects: stamped discs from Pessinus The studies cited above highlight patterns in the typochronology of late antique pottery objects, based on the analysis of hundreds and thousands of potsherds. It is worth emphasising that for people who made and used these objects they did not exist as broken fragments, waiting to be analysed, classified and quantified. Or, at least, they did not only exist as broken fragments, but were seen and experienced in a multitude of states and settings – as food receptacles, as statements of identity, as prized possessions, as something that belonged to somebody else – gaining meaning contingent on their relationship with people, places, practices, and moments in time. Of course a bowl is for eating from, a jar is for storing things in – a pot is a pot. But an object’s value draws from a whole complex of referents, relationships, memories, social customs and rules, as much as the mechanical tasks that are its primary use. Distinctions between social/economic or symbolic/ functional aspects of material culture become blurred in the case of ‘non-utilitarian’ objects with a decorative or sacred ‘use’. Many such objects circulated in late antique Anatolia, including items from tableware workshops. Examples include highly decorated flasks made in Sagalassos in the 4th to 7th centuries which have the same attributes (fabric, slip, firing) as SRSW products,55 and small ampullae with moulded images and symbols that are prevalent in cities including Sardis, Ephesus and Aphrodisias in the later 6th and early 7th century.56 In the mid 4th to early 5th century, the appearance of ceramics underwent a distinctive change, when stamped decoration was introduced on dishes and bowls and Christian subject matter took the place of secular and pagan motifs on mould-made lamps.57 At this time, the output of several regional pottery centres appears to diversify into new shapes and decorations. A number of pottery sherds stamped with geometric designs, crosses, images and short inscriptions in Greek that have been found at Pessinus may be considered part Poblome and Waelkens 2003, 185 Anderson 2004 57 Hayes 1972, 99-100; Lund 2001 55 56

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Figure 2 Stamped disc from Pessinus, Sector B (Pess69.B.37). Photo by author.

of the diversified output of late antique pottery centres (Figures 2 and 3).58 They consist of slightly convex discs that are made on a fast-turning wheel, in micaceous, hardfired fabric that is typical of local ‘Slip Ware’; their surface is stamped prior to firing, and they are coated in red slip. The texts are simple, offering ‘Blessing of the Lord upon us’, and featuring the word ‘eulogia’ (blessings), a slogan found on other pottery items dating from the 6th century including Menas flasks from Egypt and tokens from Palestine and Syria.59 The objects have previously been called ‘ampullae’, ‘ampules à eulogies’, and ‘ceramic vessels’, though it is unlikely that they are actually closed form vessels. The discs broadly resemble drum-shaped flasks from Sagalassos, however, one more intact example has an internal rim which runs close to the presumed edge (Figure 4). The underside of the rim is worn, suggesting it was exposed and became abraded like the foot of a plate; the decorated side is coated with slip while the other side is uncoated and has prominent wheel marks, suggesting it was not viewed (Figure 5). The convex shape is not suitable to use as a serving vessel, and it seems probable that this was

There have been 12 examples published: see Waelkens 1984, 102; Devreker 1995, 79-81, nos. 19-29; Devreker and Verreth 2006, 149, no. 14; Strubbe 2005, 220-8. 59 Metzger 1981; Rahmani 1993

Figure 3 Stamped disc from Pessinus, Sector D (Pess69.D.63). Photo by author.

displayed, perhaps as an ornamental medallion, roundel or tondo that was mounted onto a wall. These artefacts have not been presented as part of excavated assemblages or ceramic typologies: it is the presence of texts that has brought them to a wider audience, as they have been published by the former director of excavations at Pessinus, John Devreker, in a series of articles on ‘new inscriptions from Pessinus’, and again by Johan Strubbe in an edited volume of inscriptions.60 The articles reflect the philological concerns of the author, whereby the texts are presented as documentary evidence rather than in relation to their archaeological context. As may be suggested by Devreker’s lack of discussion, the content of the texts does not provide significant historical information; Strubbe does offer some more interpretation, speculating on the

58

60

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Devreker 1995; Devreker and Verreth 2006; Strubbe 2005, 220-8

Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World context, and the way that such texts were physically displayed and deployed, does have significance. Ampullae from western Anatolia have been found in late antique dwellings, especially elite residences, as well as in fortified and commercial contexts, and they were also deposited at sacred sites, including places of pagan veneration.61 The context of the stamped discs from Pessinus may provide similar insight into the consumers and consumption of these distinctive cultural forms that can be integrated with their physical attributes such as the enigmatic eulogia inscriptions.

Figure 4 Stamped disc from Pessinus, Sector Q (Pess03.Q.02). Photo by author.

Figure 5 Stamped disc from Pessinus, Sector Q (Pess03.Q.02). Drawing by Defne Kantarelli and author.

Although the excavation context of 14 stamped discs can be confirmed, there is only a basic quality of detail available on stratigraphy, related features and artefacts. Intact and well-stratified deposits are rare at Pessinus, where later levels are characterised by pit-digging, wallrobbing, demolition and erection of partition walls, frequent remodelling of internal and external space, and in which widespread erosion and deposition of the marly soil infiltrate all but the most closed of contexts. Nevertheless, the known find-spots display some consistency in that they are from predominantly residential quarters of the city, on the valley floor, including houses and workplaces that encroached on to the area around the city’s temple complex after the 4th century (Sector B) and domestic buildings in the east (Sector Q) and south (Sector R) of the city which remained in use until the 7th century. There are no examples recorded from the two cemeteries where major excavations have occurred (Sector A and Sector I), nor from the fortified structure built on the uplands to the north of Pessinus in probably the 6th century (in Sector I). The only find-spot that is probably non-residential in nature is along the monumental canal system that ran through the centre of Pessinus (Sector D), at a place which was substantially re-modelled in the 6th century (le quai byzantin).62 The Early Roman temple (Sector B), which dates to the reign of Tiberius (AD 14-37) and was dedicated to the imperial cult,63 has been a major focus of work by field teams from Ghent University from 1967-73 and again from 1992-2008.64 At least six stamped discs were found here, among deposits that relate to occupation of the area after the temple’s abandonment in the 4th century. Having been an ordered, monumental space dominated by the temple and temenos walls, and a staircase or ‘stepped theatre’, the area’s character changed substantially, with dwellings and shops, industrial areas and rubbish dumps encroaching on to the formerly open, civic spaces.65 Examples of stamped discs come from four excavated areas. One is a tight cluster of closely spaced buildings northwest of the temple (B1 and B6) which date from the

Anderson 2004 Waelkens 1984 63 Verlinde 2010 64 Krsmanovic, in press 65 Devreker et al. 1995 61 62

possible connection of the objects with pilgrimage centres such as Germia, east of Pessinus. Yet, the archaeological

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Figure 6 Selection of late antique finds from south of the temple (B3), including an unguentarium, vessel glass and coarseware sherds. Photo by author.

first half of the 5th until the 7th or 8th century, and may be interpreted as living quarters.66 On the east side of the temple, inside the temenos enclosure (B2, B5a and B5b), there are multi-period (pre- and post-Roman) features and deposits, with numerous storage pits and a furnace built of pithos fragments suggesting this to have been a place of industrial production and a rubbish tip in late antiquity.67 To the immediate northeast of the temenos (B4) is the site of a monumental structure that was built in the second half of the 5th century or later and overlays Hellenistic wall foundations, and has been suggested as a possible public or ecclesiastical structure.68 The south side of the temple (B3) was probably an open dumping ground, from which there are eclectic finds of the late antique period, including stamped discs, unguentaria and a Sagalassos flask fragment (Figure 6).69 The complexity of post-Roman occupation around the temple area and the fact that artefact assemblages from

Devreker and Vermeulen 1995, 115 Devreker and Vermeulen 1995, 117 68 Devreker and Vermeulen 1996, 90 69 Devreker et al. 2010

Sector B have not been published comprehensively makes it difficult to pin down the contexts from which stamped discs have been recovered. Cultural deposits at Pessinus are often heavily disrupted, partly due to the longevity of occupation at particular locales, which frequently spans the 1st century BC to 7th century AD. A number of excavated domestic structures do have dateable phases, though, and stamped discs have been found at two such places. On the lower slopes of the east side of the valley, excavations in a rectangular plot of land revealed an area that was inhabited during the Late Hellenistic, Roman and Early Byzantine periods (Sector Q) and was remodelled during late antiquity, with a phase of demolition, rebuilding and new alignment of buildings dating from the 4th and 5th centuries.70 At the supposed southern fringe of the city, some 300m south of the temple, recent investigation of an area with prominent terracing and dense ceramic scatters included a small excavation trench in which possible residential structures were found (Sector R).71 Great quantities of ceramics, dating from all the major phases at Pessinus, come from the upper level, and these were probably re-

66 67

70 71

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Devreker et al. 2005, 155 Tsetskhladze et al. 2011, 347-8; Tsetskhladze et al. 2012, 104-13

Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World seen as evidence for craft specialisation or the involvement of ecclesiastical and monastic institutions with craft (and agricultural) production, but equally they represent the actions, thoughts, decisions and preferences of consumers. The stamped discs can be situated within the repertoire of the pottery industry that operated at Pessinus during late antiquity, whose Red Slip output corresponds with that of many cities across central Anatolia, including Aizanoi and Amorium. Though a basic suite of shapes, mainly bowls and dishes, appear repeatedly in the red-slipped format, the stamped discs point to a level of eclecticism that is echoed at other locations.73 The use of stamped decoration is noteworthy. With moulds and stamps, objects are given a distinctive imprint but the designs are repeated. It is a technology of conformity. This mass reproduction may be a way for consumers to associate themselves with certain repeated symbols and messages – a shared code – but also to express messages in a semiotic and textual format that may relate to their ideology and status within the community. These cultural forms might therefore be regarded as a dual expression of individuality and communality.

Figure 7 Stamped disc from Pessinus, Sector R (Pess10.R.1.12.6). Photo by author.

deposited at the time of a wall removal and cutting that signals the final occupation phase at this location in the 7th century.72 Fragments of two stamped discs are from among more than 15,000 collected potsherds (Figure 7). Though they cannot be clearly related with a late antique occupation, their situation is again associated with a (sub) urban domestic context, in dwellings of probably middling or lower social status. Taking into account their physical attributes and archaeological context, it is possible to think about the value of stamped discs to people who possessed, used and experienced them. Decorated and decorative items that are typical of diversified pottery outputs during late antiquity do not fit neatly within ceramic type series; they are often placed awkwardly at the end of catalogues, or alongside lamps, more art objects than artefacts. Their very diversity, like the myriad lamp designs of the period, mean they stand out as individual objects which possess particular biographies. From an economic perspective, they may be The later occupation can be dated by ceramics embedded within a cobbled and mortared floor, including a small amphora of probably the later 6th or early 7th century. 72

The presence of text stands out as a distinctive quality. The simple eulogia messages are not remarkable as historical evidence – they don’t provide new facts. But the presence of lettering is itself significant, and may relate to the power of the objects and how that power was deployed. John Moreland argues for treating written texts as forms of material culture which had significance and power, instead of being ‘disinterested bearers of information about the past’, they were ‘active in the production, negotiation and transformation of social relations’.74 If we treat these texts as giving power to those who could display and curate them, then the messages ‘blessings of the Lord upon us’ take on an ideological and active significance. The objects really do emit blessings, authority, which are bestowed on their owners – the objects themselves have agency, which is activated by their deployment in socially meaningful ways. To put these qualities into the place of late antique society, we must consider some apparent paradoxes. On one hand, mass reproduction and copying of pottery show that similitude was a virtue. Yet, the stamped discs display diversification of the medium to produce new shapes and decorative schemes. Does this reflect a new consumer consciousness and need to self-identify and differentiate? Was there a breakdown in the value of red-slipped ware that, in the fraught years of the 7th century, would lead to the radically different glazed white wares of the Byzantine period? Do these changing qualities signal a rupture in the ‘shared code’ of Red Slip pottery that is part of a larger breakdown in the cohesion of the Roman Empire?

Similar objects with stamped inscriptions have been found at other sites in central Anatolia such as Hadrianopolis (Laflı and Kan Şahin 2012, 60). 74 Moreland 2001, 31 73

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W. Anderson, From manufactured goods to significant possessions There does appear to be less social differentiation within late antique communities, for example, in communal burial practices, with a move from individual and family identity of the early Roman period to anonymity and alignment with the ideal of a Christian community.75 Equally, there is undoubted competition among the elite ‘notables’ of provincial cities, manifested in the design of large houses with elaborate room plans containing reception and dining spaces, which Kim Bowes describes as ‘machines for competition’ within a steep social hierarchy.76 Another paradox is the encroachment of housing on to formerly open spaces, as occurred around the temple at Pessinus, which may be viewed either as a sign of private vitality or as a planning crisis and breakdown in civic authority.77 The stamped discs may be situated within these dualisms – on the one hand, a homogenous, anonymous, Christian community, on the other, heterogeneous, secular agents. Perhaps, then, these objects were implicated in social competition among inhabitants of 5th/6th-century Pessinus who were reinventing their material surroundings along with their social status.

Conclusion What does the specific case of stamped pottery from Pessinus, and cultural production in late antique Anatolia, say about the value of objects more generally? By focusing on consumption, stylistic categories become less relevant. An emphasis on Roman ceramics as a resource that is classed and quantified into indisputable statistics on chronology and trading connections may obscure the value and power of objects as they were actively used and thought about in the past. In an attempt to rationalise a vast and complex body of material, we risk creating reified categories of resemblance. Those who used, felt and looked at pottery objects were less concerned with the relative date range, the petrographically-proven production site, or whether he or she was holding an African Red Slip Form 76 Type B Variant, than with the object’s meaning in relation to the practices which it was associated with the places it was moved to and from within the house, the associations it might evoke, of other things and people, its biography and identity. It will always be necessary to abstract archaeological material into categories, but these contemporary values should not distract from the values that objects had in the past. The regional tendency in the consumption of pottery in late antique Anatolia, which is demonstrated by the abundance of local products over imports, may be best expressed in the idea of a common language of cultural production, which was not environmentally or economically determined but was entangled in a complex of local and global relations. Ivison 1996 Bowes 2010 77 Wickham 2005, 598-9 75 76

The predominance of local consumption calls for a rethink of the concept of imitation in ceramic forms, which in some cases may be direct copying, but is usually a more abstract form of reproduction – not slavishly responding to the latest fashions from North Africa or the Aegean, but actively creating forms that had both universal and highly local meaning – a language that could be read by many but a dialect that was understood within specific locales. An object’s value is not purely subjective and symbolic: it can be transformed by its presence, use and display in specific fields of practice, accumulated through transactions and transmission, and its association with people and places.

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W. Anderson, From manufactured goods to significant possessions Lightfoot, C. S. and P. I. Kuniholm 1994. Amorium excavations 1993: the sixth preliminary report. Anatolian Studies 44, 105-28. Lightfoot, C. S. and E. A. Ivison 1995. Amorium excavations 1994: the seventh preliminary report. Anatolian Studies 45, 105-38. Lund, J. 2001. Motifs in context: Christian lamps. In J. Fleischer, J. Lund and M. Nielsen (eds), Late Antiquity, Art in Context, 199-214. Copenhagen, Museum Tusculanum Press, University of Copenhagen. Lund, J. 2006. Writing long-term history with potsherds: problems – prospects. In D. Malfitana, J. Poblome and J. Lund (eds), Old Pottery in a New Century. Innovating perspectives on Roman pottery studies. Atti del Convegno Internazionale di Studi Catania, 22-24 Aprile 2004, 213-27. Catania, Bretschneider. Metzger, C. 1981. Les ampoules à eulogie du Musée du Louvre. Paris, Musée du Louvre. Miller, D. 2006. Consumption. In C. Tilley, W. Keane, S. Küchler, M. Rowlands and P. Spyer (eds), Handbook of Material Culture, 341-54. London, Sage. Moreland, J. 2001. Archaeology and Text. London, Duckworth. Peacock, D. P. S. 1982. Pottery in the Roman World. An Ethnoarchaeological Approach. London, Longman. Poblome, J. 1995. The ecology of Sagalassos (southwest Turkey) Red Slip Ware. In M. Lodewijckx (ed.), Archaeological and Historical Aspects of WestEuropean Societies. Album Amicorum André van Doorselaer, 499-511. Leuven, Leuven University Press. Poblome, J. 1999. Sagalassos Red Slip Ware. Typology and Chronology. Turnhout, Brepols. Poblome, J. and M. Zelle 2002. The table ware boom. A socio-economic perspective from western Asia Minor. In C. Berns, H. von Hesberg, L. Vandeput and M. Waelkens (eds), Patris und Imperium. Kulturelle und politische Identität in den Städten der römischen Provinzen Kleinasiens in der frühen Kaiserzeit. Kolloquium Köln, November 1998, 275-87. Leuven, Peeters. Poblome, J. and M. Waelkens 2003. Sagalassos and Alexandria. Exchange in the Eastern Mediterranean. In C. Abadie-Reynal (ed.), Les céramiques en Anatolie aux époques hellénistique et romaine. Actes de la table ronde d’Istanbul, 22-24 mai 1996, 179-91. Paris, De Boccard. Poblome, J. and R. Brulet 2005. Production mechanisms of sigillata manufactories: when East meets West. In M. B. Briese and L. E. Vaag (eds), Trade Relations in the Eastern Mediterranean from the Late Hellenistic Period to Late Antiquity: The Ceramic Evidence, 2736. Odense, University Press of Southern Denmark. Poblome, J. and N. Fırat 2011. Late Roman D: a matter of open(ing) or closed horizons In M. A. Cau, P. Reynolds and M. Bonifay (eds), LRFW 1. Late Roman Fine Wares. Solving Problems of Typology and Chronology, 49-55. Oxford, BAR Publishing.

Poblome, J., Degryse, P., Cottica, D. and N. Fırat 2001. A new Early Byzantine production centre in western Asia Minor. A petrographical and geochemical study of Red Slip Ware from Hierapolis, Perge and Sagalassos. Rei Cretariae Romanae Favtorum Acta 37, 119-26. Rahmani, L. Y. 1993. Eulogia tokens from Byzantine Bet She’an’. Atiqot 22, 109-19. Rautman, M. L. 1996. Two late Roman wells at Sardis. Annual of the American Schools of Oriental Research 53, 37-84. Reynolds, P. 2008. Linear typologies and ceramic evolution. FACTA. A Journal of Roman Material Culture Studies 2, 61-87. Robb, J. 2004. The extended artefact and the monumental economy: a methodology for material agency. In E. DeMarrais, C. Gosden and C. Renfrew (eds), Rethinking Materiality: The Engagement of Mind with the Material World, 131-9. Cambridge, McDonald Institute for Archaeological Research. Roth, R. 2007a. Styling Romanisation: Pottery and Society in Central Italy. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Roth, R. 2007b. Roman culture between homogeneity and integration. In R. Roth and J. Keller (eds), Roman by Integration: Dimensions of Group Identity in Material Culture and Text, 7-10. Portsmouth, Rhode Island, Journal of Roman Archaeology. Rowlands, M. 2005. Value and the cultural transmission of things. In W. van Binsbergen and P. Geschiere (eds), Commodification: Things, Agency and Identities. The Social Life of Things Revisited, 267-81. Munster, LIT. Rowlands, M. 2007. Consumption and ethnicity in the interpretation of cultural form. In S. Rieckhoff and U. Sommer (eds), Auf der Suche nach Identitäten: Volk – Stamm – Kultur – Ethnos. Internationale Tagung der Universität Leipzig vom 8.-9. Dezember 2000, 54-8. Oxford, BAR Publishing. Strubbe, J. 2005. The Inscriptions of Pessinous. Bonn, Habelt. Thoen, H. 2003. Burial goods. In J. Devreker, H. Thoen and F. Vermeulen, Excavations in Pessinus: the so-called Acropolis. From Hellenistic and Roman Cemetery to Byzantine Castle, 59-117. Ghent, Academia Press and Ghent University. Tsetskhladze, G., Anderson, W., Bauters, L., Dandrow, E., De Clercq, W., Mayer, E. and A. Schmidt 2011. Pessinus 2009. Kazı Sonuçları Toplantısı 32.1, 341-66. Tsetskhladze, G., Anderson, W., Avram, A., Avram, S., Clark, V., Flemming, K., Kortanoğlu, E., Krsmanovic, D., Negus Cleary, M. and A. Schmidt 2012. Pessinus 2010. Kazı Sonuçları Toplantısı 33.1, 103-44. Vaag, L. E. 2005. Phocaean Red Slip Ware – main and secondary productions. In M. B. Briese and L. E. Vaag (eds), Trade Relations in the Eastern Mediterranean from the Late Hellenistic Period to Late Antiquity: The Ceramic Evidence, 132-8. Odense, University Press of Southern Denmark.

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World Vandeput, L., Köse, V. and M. Jackson 2009. Pisidia Survey Project 2009: pottery and more in the territory of Pednelissos. Anatolian Archaeology 15, 31-2. Verlinde, A. 2010. Monumental architecture in Hellenistic and Julio-Claudian Pessinus. BABesch 85, 111-39. Vionis, A. K., Poblome, J. and M. Waelkens 2009. The hidden material culture of the Dark Ages. Early medieval ceramics at Sagalassos (Turkey): new evidence (ca AD 650-800). Anatolian Studies 59, 14765. Vroom, J. 2003. After Antiquity: Ceramics and Society in the Aegean from the 7th to the 20th century A.C. A Case Study from Boeotia, Central Greece. Leiden, Leiden University. Vroom, J. 2007. The archaeology of late antique dining habits in the Eastern Mediterranean. A preliminary study of the evidence. In L. Lavan, E. Swift and T. Putzeys (eds), Objects in Context, Objects in Use. Material Spatiality in Late Antiquity, 313-62. Leiden, Brill. Waelkens, M. 1984. Le système d’endiguement du torrent. In J. Devreker and M. Waelkens (eds), Les fouilles de la Rijksuniversiteit te Gent a Pessinonte 1967-1973, 77-141. Brugge, De Tempel. Wickham, C. J. 2005. Framing the Early Middle Ages. Europe and the Mediterranean, 400-800. Oxford, Oxford University Press. Willis, S. and R. Hingley 2007. Roman finds: context and theory. In R. Hingley and S. Willis (eds), Roman Finds: Context and Theory. Proceedings of a Conference held at the University of Durham, 2-17. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Zelle, M. 2003. Funde spätantiker Sigillata in Assos. In B. Liesen and U. Brandl (eds), Römische Keramik. Herstellung und Handel. Kolloquium Xanten, 15.17.6.2000, 77-106. Mainz, Philipp von Zabern.

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The power of things? Reconsidering the value of reused Roman material culture in the medieval period in Serbia Gordana Ciric

In this paper, I reconsider the reuse of Roman material culture in the medieval period in the territory of Serbia. My focus is on the reuse of Roman objects and ‘spaces’ within cemetery contexts. The type of Roman objects reused in these necropolises and the methods of their reuse are various. However, the reuse of bricks and coins was the most common. The objects are found modified or placed out of their original context. Often situated in the landscape of ruined Roman towns and fortifications, or on top of an older Roman necropolis, these medieval necropolises provide a starting point for a reflection on the meaning and value of these objects, as well as their surrounds, for the societies of the medieval period. Unlike the use of more common contemporary medieval material culture, in these instances of reuse the relationship between the subject and the object is perhaps more noticeable and attracts additional attention. In this regard, I also examine whether ideas from recent discourses in archaeological theory, which emphasise the re-examination of objects in the societal cosmos of people, can contribute to our understanding of this phenomenon. reuse, Roman artefacts, medieval necropolises, value, Serbia

Thema des folgenden Artikels ist die Wiederverwendung materieller Kultur aus römischer Zeit im mittelalterlichen Serbien. Im Zentrum stehen vor allem römische Objekte und ‚Räume‘ in sepulkralem Kontext. Die ausgewählten Objekttypen und die Art der Wiederverwendung innerhalb der Nekropolen können sehr unterschiedlich sein; allerdings kommen römische Ziegel und Münzen häufiger vor als andere Artefakte. Die wiederverwendeten Objekte wurden modifiziert oder ihrem ursprünglichen Kontext entrückt. Meist finden sich mittelalterliche Nekropolen eingebettet in eine Ruinenlandschaft römischer Städte oder im Umfeld von Befestigungsanlagen, manche wurden auf den Resten einer älteren römischen Nekropole angelegt. Daher müssen sie der Ausgangspunkt für die Entschlüsselung von Bedeutung und Wert der wiederverwendeten Objekte und ihres Umfelds für die mittelalterliche Gesellschaft sein. Stärker als bei der Verwendung der zeitgenössischen mittelalterlichen materiellen Kultur, wird im Fall der Wiederverwendung älterer Objekte das Verhältnis zwischen Subjekt und Objekt offenbar. In diesem Zusammenhang soll untersucht werden, in wie fern Ansätze jüngerer archäologischer Theorien, welche die Neubetrachtung von Objekten im sozialen Kosmos der Menschheit fordern, einen Beitrag zum Verständnis des vorgestellten Phänomens leisten können. Wiederverwendung, römische Artefakte, mittelalterliche Nekropolen, Wert, Serbien

Introduction Unlike modern consumer society, the reuse of materials and artefacts is common in any pre- or non-industrial society.1 It is an indispensable element of the economy as well as culture and ideology. Recently, the question of reuse has become a vital issue even in our contemporary world. Constant and simultaneous demand for, and supply of, new products is increasing and creates a growing problem of The research for this article was conducted during my time as a member of the Research Training Group ‘Value and Equivalence: the genesis and transformation of values from an archaeological and anthropological perspective’, and was funded by the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft. I wish to thank my supervisor, Prof. Dr. Fleur Kemmers, for her comments upon an earlier draft, and Annabel Bokern and Clare Rowan for organising the volume. I also wish to thank Clare Rowan for correcting my English. 1

waste. In the struggle for ecological preservation, we seek alternative ways of consuming. One possible solution, the concept of the ‘3Rs’ (reduce, reuse, recycle) has become increasingly dominant. Environmentalists emphasise that reuse and recycling are fundamental for our future. Strangely enough, these practices, previously seen as markers of a ‘backward’ economy or the technological inability to gain or process natural resources, are now transformed into a probable salvation. It seems that it is now a good moment for scholars to return to the phenomenon of reuse in the past, which was certainly driven by motivations that differed significantly to the eco-moral concerns of today. Nevertheless instances of past reuse were of equal value-laden complexity.

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World In this paper I will reconsider the phenomenon of the reuse of Roman material culture in the medieval period in the territory of Serbia. The reuse of objects from the Roman period in the Middle Ages is noted in almost all territories where the Roman Empire once extended, and it has been occasionally discussed in archaeology and art history.2 Indeed, the Dark Ages have been depicted as a time of low innovative production, instead abundant in the reuse and recycling of the achievements of Roman civilization. The adjustments made to Roman material remains by the new users varied from the dismantling of buildings into reusable components to the adoption of whole objects, and also included a continuation in the use of place for settlements or cemeteries. A range of examples are well-known from archaeological excavations, such as the transformation of the Severan basilica into a church at Leptis Magna in the 6th century AD3 or the use of intact amphorae as roof filling for San Simpliciano in Milan in the 4th century AD.4 Finds of many Roman artefacts, particularly coins, in AngloSaxon graves from the 5th to the 7th centuries AD,5 as well numerous ‘invisible’ building constructions of crushed Roman bricks, pots and stone slabs are also very common. In the course of several excavations of medieval sites (5th - 15th century AD) in the area of present day Serbia, a similar reuse of antique materials was uncovered. In this article I will focus on the reuse of Roman objects and ‘spaces’ in medieval cemetery contexts. The types of Roman objects reused in these necropolises varied, as did the way they were reused. However, the reuse of bricks and coins was most common. The objects are found modified or placed outside their primary context. Often situated in the landscape of ruined Roman towns and fortifications, or upon an older Roman necropolis, these medieval necropolises provide a starting point to reflect upon the meaning and value of these objects, as well as their environs, for societies of the medieval period. Unlike the use of more common contemporary medieval material culture, medieval instances of reuse stand out and the relationship between the owner and the object is more noticeable. These objects were originally created to meet the demands of one specific culture (Roman) and after their discard they were reused by people whose social practices differed significantly, and who also produced their own material culture (for example Anglo-Saxon). In this sense, it is of interest to see how these objects were used and whether any previous meanings or values ascribed to the Roman artefacts were relevant for their re-valuation. This idea coincides with recent discourse in archaeology which emphasises the significance of objects in the societal cosmos of people. A number of archaeologists have turned their attention to ‘things’ and have highlighted the effect and power objects have in shaping human societies.6 Most Kinney 2006, 233-52 Cantino Wataghin 1999, 697 4 Siena 1999, 760 5 Eckardt and Williams 2003, 141-70 6 Olsen 2003, 87-104; Hodder 2006, v; Ingold 2007, 1-16 2 3

of these scholars have been inspired by ideas developed in material culture studies,7 thing theory8 and actor network theory.9 Objects and other non-human elements are treated as equal agents within society, not merely passive and detached embodiments of ideas, values and abstract social relations which possess no influence in the creation of these same categories. Reconsidering the reuse of Roman material culture also presents a good opportunity to examine some of these ideas and their contribution to the complex matter of relations between people, objects and values.

Spolia and reuse - different approaches to the interpretation of the medieval use of Roman material culture The most abundant research on the perception and reuse of classical heritage has been performed within Art History, and it is often known as the study of spolia. Originally these studies largely focused on the incorporation of classical architectural fragments in later structures, usually concentrating on a small set of monuments, mainly from the Italian peninsula.10 However, research on spolia has expanded and today it encompasses almost any reuse of objects or materials from a previous era.11 As mentioned above, this practice is not exclusively restricted to the medieval period or to the use of Roman materials, but can be seen in plenty of other instances. For example the third century BC temple of Apollo Sosianus in Rome used spolia from the fifth century BC, 12 and the Neolithic graves of Orkney and the Atlantic Scottish seaboard were reused during the Iron Age, with Neolithic decorative patterns copied onto Iron Age ceramics.13 In the interpretation of this phenomenon, whether it is labelled ‘spolia’ or ‘reuse’, scholars shift between two opposing viewpoints. Reuse is either believed to be the result of ‘practical’ necessity (recycling, lack of raw materials, etc), or as some kind of an ‘ideological’ statement. One of the most influential studies on spolia in the traditional sense (the reuse of classical heritage in medieval architecture) is that of the German historian A. Esch.14 He deduced five essential motivations for spolia by studying examples largely coming from Italy. These were: convenience and availability, the profanation and exorcism of a demonic force, an interpretatio Christiana, political legitimacy, and aesthetic admiration.15 Similar categorisations also appear in Stocker and Everson’s

Miller 1998; Miller 2005 Brown 2001, 1-16 Latour 2005 10 For example the work of Esch 1969, 1-64. 11 Kinney 2006, 233 12 Greenhalgh 1999, 788 13 Hingley 1996, 231-43 14 Esch 1969, 1-64 15 Esch 1969, 42-57 7 8 9

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G. Ciric, The power of things? article on building stone, which proposes casual, functional and iconic use. Casual reuse occurs when the function of the original stone is disregarded; functional reuse is when an element is reused for the purpose for which it was originally made; and iconic use is when a particular stone is reused because of its associations, history, or superstitious power.16

these studies the motivation behind the reuse has been a significant question of consideration. The recent study by Eckardt and Williams discussed possible interpretations of this phenomenon in Anglo-Saxon graves (5th - 7th century AD), questioning earlier interpretations that emphasised either practical aspects or magical significance.25 Their contribution develops on current scholarship and suggests:

Of particular interest in the study of spolia, especially concerning more ‘meaningful’ reuse, is the discussion surrounding the reuse of antique gems, which were often inserted in crosses or other reliquaries. Here the debate often focuses on whether previous ‘pagan’ notions were relevant to the reuse, or whether the objects were used within a completely new Christian symbolic order. Hamann-Mac Lean thought that gems were valued for their antiquity, exquisite craftsmanship and supernatural powers more so than other objects or materials from the ancient world, and that gems were also valued for longer periods of time than other objects. For Hamann-Mac Lean the Herimann Cross (AD 1040), where a female cameo portrait (Livia?) functions as the head of Christ, was a ‘form of reified mystery’, in which the antipathy of pagan and Christian was surpassed by the timeless numen of a precious substance.17 In an earlier study on gems, Wentzel completely rejected the idea that the pre-Christian or pagan significance of these stones was still known in Middle Ages, and he interpreted the Herimann Cross in a completely different way.18 He argued that the unusual appearance of the cameo, and the fact that it was probably discovered buried in the ground, meant that the cameo was understood in the medieval mindset to be the head of the Saviour himself.19 More recent studies on ancient gems have tried to avoid these dualities of pagan/Christian and classical/medieval. For example, the research of A. Krug depicts medieval collectors quite differently to the stereotype of a ‘naive ignoramus’, and suggests they were able to read the gems in more than one sense.20 However, we should note that in most traditional studies on spolia the examples studied are understood as works of art and symbolical representations of authority, whether political or religious - for example the Arch of Constantine or Charlemagne’s chapel in Aachen.21

that the reuse of Roman artefacts can also be understood in relation to their role in defining social memories. The funerary contexts, in which these objects were discovered, the ways in which they were used in early Anglo-Saxon costume, and their burial with the early Anglo-Saxon dead, all provide evidence to suggest that Roman objects were important in defining relationships between past and present in Early Anglo-Saxon England. In contrast to later periods, such social and symbolic meaning may not have been related to a coherent ideology of reclaiming a specifically Roman past. Rather, because these objects had no known biographies of production, exchange and use, they became the focus of other kinds of social memory focusing upon their supernatural associations.26

In contrast to these examples, archaeological excavations have revealed numerous instances of the reuse of Roman artefacts in contexts not so explicitly related to an ideological statement of a specific historical authority. Examples have been identified in graves throughout the medieval period in England,22 Switzerland23 and Italy.24 In

Stocker and Everson 1990, 83-101 Hamann - Mac Lean 1949-50, 166 Wentzel, 1941, 45-98 19 Wentzel, 1941, 49 20 Krug 1993, 161-72 21 Brenk 1987, 103-9 22 Coock and Dacre 1985, 31, 38 23 Frey-Kupper 2008, 222-6 24 Siena 1999, 751-84; Travaini 2004, 166-8 16 17 18

In support of this statement the authors explored different aspects or stages in the practice of reuse. Starting with the methods of the object’s retrieval, the authors argued that the way of acquiring Roman objects (from deserted Roman settlements, hoards and burial sites) had a deep impact on the way these objects would come to be evaluated by the new users. In contrast to objects which were possessions obtained through social exchange and produced by known craftsman, these objects could have been related to special places and to a general notion of the past. Another important issue is how these objects were incorporated into funeral costumes, since in some cases Roman brooches and pierced Roman coins were found in contexts suggesting that they were elements of the deceased’s dress. To some extent such reuse is connected with female and child burials, indicating that these objects were perhaps deemed appropriate for signalling age and gender groups in these societies. Finally, the use of Roman objects as mortuary containers and structures was perhaps due to their apotropaic or protective function. Another, less visible method of reuse is the recycling of Roman metal objects. This is usually interpreted as an economically driven practice, since the effort of mining new metal ore was much greater than that required to melt down existing objects. Yet a recent study on the metal composition of saucer brooches (5th – 7th centuries AD) proposes a much wider meaning, that this metal scrap was understood as ‘ancestral material’.27 The analysis has demonstrated that there was considerable control in the Eckardt and Williams 2003, 141-70 Eckardt and Williams 2003, 146 27 Caple 2010, 305-18 25 26

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World zinc content of a pair of saucer brooches, indicating they were cast largely from retained or recovered late Roman brass objects, with the addition of a new copper alloy. In the case of the saucer brooches, in order to provide a suitable level of control in the zinc content seen in these brooch pairs it is likely that a single common brass object was divided in two, half in one crucible and half in the other. Additional copper and bronze scrap was added to give the required amount of metal for casting the brooch. The most likely social or cultural explanation for this complexity would be that the brass object had particular meaning which it was desired to invest equally in both new saucer brooches. The most likely explanation is that a common ancestral brass artefact was deliberately divided so that the ancestral values were passed through the metal into the new saucer brooches....28

the most grandiose monuments of the so-called Second Tetrarchy, whose construction probably began between AD 303 and 305 with the intention for it to be complete by the celebration of Galerius’ vicennalia in AD 313. However Galerius died in AD 311 and the focus of construction work shifted from this complex to the building of two mausolea for Galerius and his mother at nearby Magura hill.30 What occurred in the decades that followed is not really clear, but this complex was continuously settled from the end of the 4th century AD until the end of the 6th or beginning of the 7th century AD, and it seems that a large metallurgical workshop was established near the remains of the thermae.31 The site was occupied again in the 10th and 11th centuries AD. Thus the whole complex, originally created as a piece of specific political-ideological propaganda and as a tool to implement the concept of the Tetrarchy, in reality ‘spoke’ to people for whom such a concept was totally irrelevant.

To summarise, it seems that the question of the reuse of Roman objects in the medieval period has given rise to some ambiguous attitudes on the subject amongst scholars, and even when we suppose that the reuse is ‘clearly’ driven by the economic reasons, this may not be the case.

My intention is to focus on the concept of reuse in medieval necropolises. As a starting point I will examine the types of Roman sites that were reused as burial places, before turning to the reused Roman objects, which were used in single graves for burial structures as well as grave goods.

The reuse of Roman material culture in medieval necropolises in Serbia

Landscape

Over the course of history the territory of modern Serbia was inhabited by various cultures. After the Roman conquest at the beginning of the 1st century AD, the present-day area of Srem and most of central Serbia formed part of the provinces Pannonia Inferior (later Pannonia II) and Moesia Superior (later Moesia I, Dacia Ripensis and Dradania). At the same time, large sections like modern Bačka and Banat were never conquered and were thus Barbaricum. The border between these ‘two worlds’ was along flow of the Danube. Alongside the introduction of Roman power, many military fortifications, towns and villas were built in these areas.29 By the end of the 4th century AD and with the breach of the Danube limes in the mid 5th century and later this territory was exposed to a variety of social groups, a phenomenon which continued into the medieval period. These groups, some of which were partial entities, are traditionally interpreted as tribes (Germanic, Avaric, Slavic, Hungarian, etc). Occasionally these peoples occupied deserted Roman sites and used them for settlements and cemeteries. Even the most famous and luxurious edifice of the Roman period in this region, Galerius’ Imperial Palace (Felix Romuliana) at Gamzigrad, was never actually used for its original purpose, and instead was inhabited and used by people in a very different fashion than intended. This was one of

The ruins of Roman forts and towns likely dominated the landscape for many centuries after they were deserted, since the biggest devastation of Roman sites only started with the modernisation of these areas in the late 19th and the beginning of the 20th century. The work of early explorers in this region in the 18th and throughout the 19th century shows an abundance of visible Roman antiquities that could hardly be imagined today, and the number of antiquities was surely higher in the earlier medieval period. In these antiquarian descriptions most attention is given to the Roman relics along the Danube at the Iron Gate, where a great quantity of monuments have been present since the massive construction works conducted during the reigns of the emperors Domitian and Trajan. The most influential works on the state of Roman remains in Serbia in the 18th and 19th centuries are those by Count Marsigly (1726), the engineer Bela de Gonda (1896) (who also summarised the observations of previous explorers),32 and Felix Kanitz.33 Later archaeological excavations have revealed the various and occasional uses of these remains throughout the medieval period. Some examples of how medieval necropolises were inserted into the ‘Roman landscape’ are presented in the following table (Figure 1).

Živić 2011, 104-5 Petković 2011, 113-28 32 Petrović 2003, 71-95 33 Kanitz 1868 30 31

28 29

Caple 2010, 314 Mirković 1968

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Figure 1 Relationship between medieval necropolises and different types of Roman sites.

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Embodying Value? The Transformation of Objects in and from the Ancient World As demonstrated in the table, different Roman structures were reused as burial sites during the medieval period. Sometimes cemeteries were dug into sections of previously civic or military areas. In these cases there is no continuity in the use of a cult place. Yet in the cases of Niš Sv. Pantelejmon, Viminacium-Burdelj and Mačvanska Mitrovica, the medieval cemeteries developed at the same location as a previous Roman necropolis. This could be an indication of a reconnection, respecting the same sacral space for burial purposes. Usually this can be explained by the presence of an early Christian basilica or martyrium, as is the case for the Mačvanska Mitrovica and Niš-Sv. Pantelejmon cemeteries. But we should not assume that the new users only connected with previously ‘sacral’ places within a mutual Christian tradition, since there are also examples of the reuse of prehistoric tumuli for medieval burials. On mound I at the site of Bela Crkva, nineteen medieval graves were dug into a Bronze Age tumulus.34 Therefore the connection to, and respect of, such places by medieval populations should be understood in a more general sense. It is likely that visual elements and the dominance of certain features over the landscape were just as important as religious considerations.

The reuse of objects In addition to the use of Roman sites, various objects from the Roman period were included in burial structures and were used as grave goods. The reuse of objects often coincides with the reuse of ‘Roman spaces’, however there are also examples where Roman artefacts are found in a medieval cemetery not situated on a Roman site. In a few instances the necropolises are in areas of former Barbaricum or on the frontier (Bogojevo, Subotica, Aradac, Čelarevo, Omoljica). For those necropolises which are within the former Roman territories, a Roman site may not be in the immediate surrounds, but rather relatively close by, or else the existence of a Roman site in the vicinity might be assumed (Kormadin-Jakovo, Mirijevo, Vinča-Belo Brdo, Brestovik-Visoka Ravan, Tranjane). Some examples of Roman objects reused in medieval cemeteries located on or immediately next to a Roman site are presented in the following table (Figure 2). The subsequent two tables (Figures 3 and 4) present examples of Roman objects reused in medieval cemeteries located within former Roman territories, but in areas not upon or immediately adjacent to a Roman site, and in medieval cemeteries located in the former Barbaricum or along the frontier. As we can see, the reuse of artefacts is largely limited to coins and bricks, with other types of objects being reused only in occasional or exceptional cases. This suggests

that the variety of Roman items scattered amongst the ruins were not only subject to the ravages of time (some types of Roman objects may have decayed), but were also subject to a stringent selection process. This meant that only a few of the Roman objects were incorporated into the wider offerings chosen from contemporary medieval material culture. Even the immediate vicinity of Roman sites which we know had a diverse array of Roman material culture did not significantly affect the repertoire of reused artefacts. The same types of objects were used in necropolises on older Roman sites, as well as in necropolises not on a previous Roman settlement. For the latter, we might assume that the absence of a major Roman site and associated material reduced the possibility for selection, and that perhaps the reuse of coins was driven by the discovery of hoards. It is evident that not all Roman material engaged the attention of the medieval population at the same level, even if it was available. This selection process is also visible in the distribution of Roman objects amongst the graves. In fact, few graves in each cemetery had Roman objects as grave goods, or had Roman items built into the burial structure. If we observe the reuse of Roman coinage in the cemetery from the Migration period at the site of Singidunum III (Belgrade), for example, Roman coins were found in only nine of the 106 graves excavated.35 The frequency is even smaller in later necropolises such as Brestovik-Visoka Ravana, where Roman coinage was only present among the grave goods of four female burials from the total of 887 excavated.36 All of these Roman coins were pierced and used as necklace pendants, while of the three medieval coins found in this necropolis only one was used as a pendant. The other two were simply placed in the grave. In other words, it is not only important to examine what was reused, but by whom or in whose name these objects were handled, in order to try to understand how these objects were perceived and evaluated. The same applies to the reuse of bricks, although this may not be noticeable at first sight, since we usually do not perceive bricks as prestige goods or markers of a specific social status. An interesting indication of how the form and amount of reused Roman bricks was likely dependant on the social status of the deceased might be found in a grave from the medieval cemetery in Mačvanska Mitorvica. The structures of the graves at this site varied from plain burial pits without construction (i.e. without reuse) to several cases where vertically placed Roman bricks were found.37 All the reused bricks were obtained from the early Christian tombs of the late Roman necropolis (4th century AD) and its cult building, upon which the later medieval necropolis developed. In one male medieval grave (no. 18), not only were Roman bricks reused in significant Ivanišević and Kazanski 2002, 127-39 Through the courtesy of S. Fidanovski, curator of the National Museum in Belgrade, I obtained this information and access to Roman coins from this necropolis. 37 Ercegović-Pavlović 1980, 64 35 36

34

Garašanin and Garašanin 1958, 26, 33-6, 46

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Figure 2 Roman objects reused in medieval cemeteries located on or immediately next to a Roman site.

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Figure 3 Roman objects reused in medieval cemeteries located within former Roman territories, but not upon or immediately adjacent to a Roman site.

Figure 4 Roman objects reused in medieval cemeteries located in Barbaricum or along the frontier.

quantity, but the structure of late Roman tombs was also obviously imitated. Given the position of this tomb (inside a church), and the finds in it, this was most probably the grave of a cleric. A silver reliquary cross with traces of gold plate and an inscription in Greek which reads ‘Lord, help the one who wears it’ was found on the right side of the thorax.38 On the ankle of this skeleton, traces of silver threads were found. These are most probably the remains of the decoration of the lower part of the dress. In this case

the secondary use of Roman bricks, and more importantly, the reproduction of the model of a late Roman tomb, is connected with the highest immediate social authority in the community. Through this reproduction of the physical form of the tomb and its association with a member of the clergy, the reuse of Roman bricks here was most certainly much more than a case of plain thrift. Rather the bricks were incorporated into an aspect of ideology. The power of the church was affirmed by embedding itself in the late Roman and early Christian funeral tradition.

Ercegović-Pavlović 1979-1980, 174; My English translation of the Serbian translation from Greek. 38

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G. Ciric, The power of things? Conclusion After examining some examples of the reuse of Roman material culture in medieval cemeteries, I would like to return to the questions that were raised at the beginning of this paper, particularly the role of objects and their potential agency in the construction and maintenance of values within a society. In my opinion the remains of Roman cities, forts and other structures, with their associated monumentality and physicality, no doubt ‘forced’ new users to deal with them. The ruins must have made strong impressions, especially since the regions in which they were found were populated by communities with no tradition of monumental architecture. But to what extent these objects themselves had agency in communicating specific meaning or previous Roman values to the people handling them is questionable. In most of the examples, it is my impression that people used the objects primarily within their own value system, adjusting the items to their own cultural desires. The interventions on Roman bricks, such as the inscriptions of crosses and menorah,39 are the best examples of this practice. However the materiality of the brick, with its fine flat surface, probably encouraged people to place inscriptions on them. Furthermore, the reuse of coinage was probably most common since this category of object was recognisable: medieval communities also had money. In contrast, items such as fibulae, for example, simply would be hard to ‘recognise’. People in the late medieval period used buttons, and to incorporate a fibula in its original sense within medieval material culture would have required some serious conceptual reconsideration of object categories. This brings us back to the ongoing debate in archaeology and humanities on the meaning and position of material culture in human societies. In particular the question is how and why social groups adopt or refuse foreign objects, and whether these objects, once adopted, change contemporary material culture. It is beyond the scope of this paper to provide the extensive discussion that this well-trodden subject deserves, but I would like to raise the ideas of Hodder in his Economic and Social Stress and Material Culture Patterning.40 Hodder argues ‘that material culture can be used to express and reinforce aspects of social relationships’.41 Particularly when social relations are under strain, artefacts play an important role in symbolising and supporting these relations. In the case of this research, probable tensions between different subgroups within the societal hierarchy might have been expressed in the structure of artefact association as well as the Roman objects within these. The importance of analysing social relationships between different sex, age, and political groups both within and between societies, and how these relationships are Minić 1984a, 174; Bunardžić 1978-1979, 37-8 Hodder 1979, 446-54 41 Hodder 1979, 448 39 40

reflected in material culture, has lately been neglected in favour of concentrating on objects themselves and their supposed power to act and subject people. Changing our perspective, in this case in favour of a more dominant anthropocentric view, provides new insights. Through the examination of the reuse of Roman objects in medieval cemeteries in the territory of Serbia it is my conclusion that social relationships within the medieval community, which formed a social structure, are crucial in order to understand how older Roman objects were re-evaluated and adopted. As the example of the reuse of Roman bricks at the Mačvanska Mitrovica cemetery demonstrates, the social standing of certain individuals affected how these objects were handled and distributed, in spite of the fact that the objects, in theory, were available to everyone. The value assigned to reused Roman material culture was constructed in a way that its use together with other objects from medieval material culture reflected certain positions of different groups or social personas within society. Therefore, any meanings and values that were identified with these objects were employed to distinguish or to assert the position of certain social groups (rulers, clerics or women).

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