Roman ‘Fertility Eagle’ from Selkirk

The incipit of an item from the Selkirk Advertiser:

A Roman symbol of fertility found near Selkirk, shaped like an eagle emerging from a flower with a berry in its mouth, highlights the discoveries made in Scotland in this year’s Treasure Trove Report.

The talisman, excavated in 2010 by a local metal detectorist between Selkirk and Galashiels, is believed to have adorned a Roman wagon or chariot, and is the first relic of its kind to be found north of the border.

The report described the artifact as: “A copper alloy mount in the shape of an eagle head, the sacred bird of Juno, found near Selkirk. The eagle is depicted emerging from a flower with a berry held in the beak and was intended as a symbol of good luck or fertility. Mounts of this type were used on the supporting frames of Roman wagons and this is the first such mount from Scotland, with only a small number known from Britain.”

Selkirk historian Walter Elliot, to whom the finder took the object for identification, guessed its ancient origin by the “patination”: “I knew it was not a modern find because it was bronze-green with age. It looked very Roman, but I wasn’t sure.”

It took his friend, archeologist Dr Fraser Hunter of Glasgow University, who had seen an identical copper eagle in York, to identify the rare artifact as Roman. […]

… and here’s the small photo that’s included:

via the Selkirk Advertiser

Now unfortunately, as I write this, the Portable Antiquities Scheme seems to be doing maintenance or something and I can’t get an official description but check this thing out:

via the Portable Antiquities Scheme

… which is clearly an analog and is designated in the photo description as a cartfitting. Where this ‘fertility’ association comes from is beyond me.

Caligula’s Bridge

The Express has a piece (for reasons unknown … but  it’s written by Matthew Dennison, whose 12 Caesars is getting reviewed all over the place) about the excesses of assorted emperors. Here’s the incipit:

IN AD 37 the new Roman Emperor Gaius, better known by the nickname Caligula, built a bridge across the sea.

It stretched three miles across the deep blue waters of the Bay of Naples at ancient Rome’s most fashionable seaside resort of Baiae.

But Caligula’s was no ordinary bridge. It was a temporary, floating structure built on wooden pontoons, a costly and impressive feat of engineering. It served a single purpose before being dismantled.

On a day of boiling heat watched by crowds of spectators, Caligula rode across the bridge. His armour glinted in the sunlight, for the 24-year-old emperor had dressed himself in the golden breastplate of the legendary Greek hero Alexander The Great.

On the following day Caligula made the journey in reverse, this time riding in a chariot, followed by soldiers of his personal guard.

It was a pointless piece of showmanship, lost on the majority of the crowd, several of whom fell drunkenly to their deaths in the sea after two days’ partying.

One historian claimed Caligula pulled the stunt to disprove a prophecy that he had no more chance of becoming emperor than of riding a horse across the Bay of Baiae.

Whatever his motives, this eccentric and expensive prank was typical of his short reign. […]

This is one of those incidents from Caligula’s life which I have long believed has been misunderstood greatly by historians — both ancient and modern — because it is usually put in the context of Caligula’s ‘madness’ and/or ‘massive ego’. Cassius Dio puts this incident in the events of the year 39 (as Barrett notes, p. 211) — connected somehow to the impending German campaign — and describes it thusly (59.17 via Lacus Curtius):

1 Gaius, however, did not care at all for that kind of triumph, as he did not consider it any great achievement to drive a chariot on dry land; on the other hand, he was eager to drive his chariot through the sea, as it were, by bridging the waters between Puteoli and Bauli. (The latter place lies directly across the bay from the city of Puteoli, at a distance of twenty-six stades.) 2 Of the ships for a bridge some were brought together there from other stations, but others were built on the spot, since the number that could be assembled there in a brief space of time was insufficient, even though all the vessels possible were got together — with the result that a very severe famine occurred in Italy, and particularly in Rome. 3 In building the bridge not merely a passageway was constructed, but also resting-places and lodging-room were built along its course, and these had running water suitable for drinking. When all was ready, he put on the breastplate of Alexander (or so he claimed), and over it a purple silk chlamys, adorned with much gold and many precious stones from India; moreover he girt on a sword, too a shield, and donned a garland of oak leaves. 4 Then he offered sacrifice to Neptune and some other gods and to envy (in order, as he put it, that no jealousy should attend him), and entered the bridge from the end at Bauli, taking with him a multitude of armed horsemen and foot-soldiers; and he dashed fiercely into Puteoli as if he were in pursuit of an enemy. 5 There he remained during the following day, as if resting from battle; then, wearing a gold-embroidered tunic, he returned in a chariot over the same bridge, being drawn by race-horses accustomed to win the most victories. A long train of what purported to be spoils followed him, including Darius, a member of the Arsacid family, who was one of the Parthians then living in Rome as hostages. 6 His friends and associates in flowered robes followed in vehicles, and then came the army and the rest of the throng, each man dressed according to his individual taste. Of course, while on such a campaign and after so magnificent a victory he had to deliver a harangue; so he ascended a platform which had likewise been erected on the ships near the centre of the bridge. 7 First he extolled himself as an undertaker of great enterprises, and then he praised the soldiers as men who had undergone great hardships and perils, mentioning in particular this achievement of theirs in crossing through the sea on foot. 8 For this he gave them money, and after that they feasted for the rest of the day and all through the night, he on the bridge, as though on an island, and they on other boats anchored round about.

Suetonius describes it very similarly, and also seems to put it in the context of 39 A.D. (19, again via Lacus Curtius):

1 Besides this, he devised a novel and unheard of kind of pageant; for he bridged the gap between Baiae and the mole at Puteoli, a distance of about thirty-six hundred paces, by bringing together merchant ships from all sides and anchoring them in a double line, afterwards a mound of earth was heaped upon them and fashioned in the manner of the Appian Way. 2 Over this bridge he rode back and forth for two successive days, the first day on a caparisoned horse, himself resplendent in a crown of oak leaves, a buckler, a sword, and a cloak of cloth of gold; on the second, in the dress of a charioteer in a car drawn by a pair of famous horses, carrying before him a boy named Dareus, one of the hostages from Parthia, and attended by the entire praetorian guard and a company of his friends in Gallic chariots. 3 I know that many have supposed that Gaius devised this kind of bridge in rivalry of Xerxes, who excited no little admiration by bridging the much narrower Hellespont; others, that it was to inspire fear in Germany and Britain, on which he had designs, by the fame of some stupendous work. But when I was a boy, I used to hear my grandfather say that the reason for the work, as revealed by the emperor’s confidential courtiers, was that Thrasyllus the astrologer had declared to Tiberius, when he was worried about his successor and inclined towards his natural grandson, that Gaius had no more chance of becoming emperor than of riding about over the gulf of Baiae with horses.

Of course, all this will likely be familiar to the sorts of folks who would visit rogueclassicism, but way back when I was doing my first Classics-related degree, lo those decades ago, and was writing my paper about Caligula’s assassination, it struck me that this might very well have been an incident that has ‘shifted’ in our sources in order to augment the ‘madness’ of Caligula. What if, instead of being something which happened prior to the departure for Germany — and the aborted invasion of Britain — it actually was a response to that famous incident. Consider how it is fragmentarily described in Dio (59.25 via Lacus Curtius):

And when he reached the ocean, as if he were going to conduct a campaign in Britain, and had drawn up all the soldiers on the beach, 2 he embarked on a trireme, and then, after putting out a little from the land, sailed back again. Next he took his seat on a lofty platform and gave the soldiers the signal as if for battle, bidding the trumpeters urge them on; then of a sudden he ordered them to gather up the shells. 3 Having secured these spoils (for he needed booty, of course, for his triumphal procession), he became greatly elated, as if he had enslaved the very ocean; and he gave his soldiers many presents. The shells he took back to Rome for the purpose of exhibiting the booty to the people there as well.

… and Suetonius (46 … Lacus Curtius again):

Finally, as if he intended to bring the war to an end, he drew up a line of battle on the shore of the Ocean, arranging his ballistas80 and other artillery; and when no one knew or could imagine what he was going to do, he suddenly bade them gather shells and fill their helmets and the folds of their gowns, calling them “spoils from the Ocean, due to the Capitol and Palatine.” As a monument of his victory he erected a lofty tower, from which lights were to shine at night to guide the course of ships, as from the Pharos.81 Then promising the soldiers a gratuity of a hundred denarii each, as if he had shown unprecedented liberality, he said, “Go your way happy; go your way rich.”

Back when I was writing my paper, the ‘party line’ on this incident was essentially that of JPVD Balsdon, whose 1934 book on Caligula suggested that the soldiers had actually refused to make the crossing (pp 90 ff) and I suspect that is the view that many still hold today. If so, it is not difficult to imagine Caligula going back to Rome and deciding that invading Britain by trireme wasn’t going to happen.  Even if they didn’t actually refuse — there seems to be only one trireme involved here; clearly not enough for an army — Caligula’s little boat ride may have been a literal pre-invasion ‘testing of the waters’ to see how rough the seas were. What if he did take inspiration from Xerxes and actually planned to build a boat bridge across the Channel to march his soldiers across? The bridge at Baiae then becomes a possible military feasibility exercise which may have had merit, especially when we hear of him tarrying for a day ‘on the other side’, given that it would probably take about a day to march across the channel on such a bridge. Of course, bridging the 20+ miles of the Channel would be a bit more involved than the two or three of the the Bay of Naples, but it seems to me it just might be the sort of thing a Caligula might think of doing after all his ‘preparations’ in Germany and environs. Something to consider, anyway …

Missing Bits from the Cadeby Hoard Turn Up

Adrian Murdoch mentioned this one on Twitter … from the Star:

PART of a treasure-trove dating back to Roman times has mysteriously surfaced at an antiques fair – almost 30 years after the rest of it was found in a Doncaster wood.

A silver bracelet dating back to the third century is now wanted by Doncaster Museum so they can reunite it with the rest of the famous Cadeby Hoard discovered by a local metal detector enthusiast in 1981.

Yesterday the way was cleared for the Chequer Road museum to acquire it from the owners – an ancient artefacts dealer in Essex – after Doncaster Coroner Nicola Mundy declared the bracelet to be treasure-trove.

Experts from the British Museum, who will now decide its value, are convinced it would have been hidden in the same place as 112 silver Roman coins and four silver bracelets in Pot Ridings Wood, Cadeby, in the period after AD 250.

The Cadeby Hoard, which attracted national interest at the time, was found hidden in a rock crevice in October 1981 by Brendan Kennedy, of Victorian Crescent, Town Moor, while using his metal detector.

But the hearing was unable to shed any light on how the bracelet came to change hands separately at the Newark Antiques Fair in 2009 – where it was sold by Nottingham man Kevin Darby, who has no knowledge of the finder.

He was unable to attend yesterday’s hearing because he is recovering from a heart attack.

In a statement Mr Darby said he had had the bracelet for many years, and bought it t because he liked it.

The bracelet is 85 per cent silver with a carnelian gemstone. At almost 62mm wide it weighs 62.8g. It is believed to have been made by a silversmith in Lincoln or York between 250 and 280AD.

While researching on the internet Mr Darby found a similar bracelet in the Doncaster Museum collection and visited to see the others from the Cadeby Hoard.

He also showed it to museum staff and added: “I have done everything by the book.”

The bracelet was bought by Essex-based dealers Timeline Originals, whose chief executive, Brett Hammond, said they were told it had been excavated prior to 1975 and before treasure hunters’ legislation was tightened up.

Ms Mundy received an expert’s report from the British Museum, with Ian Richardson saying the bracelet dated from the third century and bore ‘strong similarities’ with two found in Pot Ridings Wood.

“Analysis suggest this bracelet is another element of the Cadeby Hoard and should be considered retrospectively as treasure-trove,” he stated.

The coroner concurred, saying the bracelet had ‘strong similarities’ with the Cadeby Hoard bracelets.

She said: “I believe it was part of that earlier hoard and would have been deposited under the same rock.”

The treasure-trove declaration means the object – currently in the custody of the British Museum – is now owned by the Crown and will be valued by experts before being offered for sale.

… not sure why I can’t find anything of substance about the Cadebury Hoard … (should be Cadeby)

Moles at Epiacum

Years ago it was all about badger, badger, badger … now, it seems, moles are digging up Roman artifacts at Epiacum … from the Journal:

EARTH burrowing moles are responsible for digging up some of Roman Britain’s deepest secrets in a remote corner of West Northumberland.

They may be the bane of farmers across the land, but some moles are doing the human race a huge historical favour.

Epiacum, an isolated Roman fort close to the Cumbrian border 12 miles south of Hadrian’s Wall, is a scheduled ancient monument and as such, any excavation is banned on site.

But humans has never yet introduced any law understood by Mr Mole – and scores of them are churning up Roman artefacts at Epiacum – or Whitley Castle – as they push out their molehills.

Whitley Castle stands on 1,000-acre Castle Nook Farm, and yesterday a team of 37 volunteers, under the watchful eye of English Heritage, sieved through those molehills to see what our subterranean allies had brought up.

Among the finds were:

A quarter-inch-long piece of rare Samian ware, tableware known as the classic Roman ceramic discovery;

A number of pottery rim fragments from Roman serving bowls and earthenware pots;

A jet bead from a Roman necklace or bracelet.

“We’ve had a good day,” smiled farmer’s wife Elaine Edgar, who is heading plans to develop and promote the fort and this month landed a £49,200 Heritage Lottery grant to help her along.

“The Samian ware is the sort of thing the Romans used to keep up with the Joneses and we found a quarter-inch flat, round piece of it.

“Last year we found a small bronze dolphin-shaped piece which we believe to have been a tap-head from the wash-house. It was just lying there on the side of a molehill.

“We also found a number of nails, which settled the argument of whether the Romans used wood or stone for their buildings.

“And this year we have found some really nice pieces – even the weather was kind to us.”

All the molehill sites at Epiacum, two miles south of Slaggyford and near the Cumbrian border, were ‘gridded out’ 48 hours earlier in 10-metre squares with rods and tape.

“The moles are able to do what we humans are forbidden by law to do,” said Elaine, “and that is excavate on-site. As farmers we are not allowed to do anything that turns the land over.

“English Heritage had to be on site yesterday to make it legal for us even to sieve through the molehills.”

Paul Frodshaw from AONB – Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty – who is one of the four directors of newly-formed Epic Epiacum Ltd, took the Roman finds away in carefully-labelled bags last night to officially catalogue them.

But their ownership falls to Elaine and her husband John as landowners of 30 years.

Now Elaine hopes that she will eventually be able to display them in a display area on the eight-acre fort site.

“That would be my great wish,” she said last night. “I have high hopes, and it is only with the help of the moles that we have been able to find these remains.

“Perhaps we should get them some Roman helmets – then they would be real mighty moles.”