It broadens the picture some and removes other disputed finds. The great shame is that it still doesn’t give a picture of any Illyrian finds… I was happy to see that the find spot of the ANS specimen above could be located on both maps!
So I was skimming the ANS catalogue trying to collect my thoughts about the Italian context for early Roman coinage. Most of the examples of cast coinage from non-Roman mints seems comfortably familiar. Wheels, Tridents, Anchors, Clubs are all motifs found at Rome and elsewhere. I particularly like the animals, roosters and sleeping dogs especially. But then I came across this specimen above: “Female Head in Murex Shell”. So different! Even if the other side, a Pegasus, is by contrast strikingly familiar in a numismatic context. Anyway the unexpected-thing-in-a-shell motif reminded me of course of our discussion of gem stone themes, earlier. It certainly fits that motif well.
Postscript 5 March 2014. There is no image of that mule coming out of a shell on the BM site, but I just wonder if it isn’t more likely to be an ass. The ass is known for its generous male genital endowment and Henig argues that the shell is a symbol of a female sexual organs. You see why I wonder about it being a mule… Anyway, in furhter support of Henig’s fertility theory of the shell motif, there is the other BM specimen (illustrated) where two rabbits issue forth from the shell.
A week of archaeological sites was a lovely break from writing. Yesterday and today have just been reading literature on file and looking over notes for the next chapter. I thought I’d throw up this coin (HN Italy 2013) and Crawford’s 2002 comments:
From: M.H. Crawford, “Provenances, Attributions, and Chronology of Some Early Italian Coinages,” CH IX (2002), pg. 274.
I’m always nostalgic about this type. I have strong memories of the first time I ‘found’ it in the old Ashmolean coin room and how much I loved bringing students in to see it and talk about its relationship to Roman types (RRC 28/3):
My favorite line out of this article of Crawford is certainly:
“It is no good simply lying in one’s bath and thinking that such-and-such an issue looks rather nice in such-and-such a year…”
I never dare do such a thing, but I did read this just as I was thinking how nice a bath sounded on a cold rainy Istanbul afternoon. He startled me into keeping at my computer. No bad thing.
The other Crawfordian gem of today’s readings was pretty much all of his 2009 article on aes signatum. Just to give a bit of the flavor, it begins “The term aes signatum seems to be taking an unconscionable time dying” and contains a choice observation about “typical Anglo-Saxon insouciance about anything written in German, or even in French” followed by a pointed suggestion that in this case “maybe the insouciance was justified”. (SNR 88 (2009): 195-197).
This specimen has two clear impressions on it. I suspect it is just double struck but I wanted to put a note to myself to see if it might in fact be an overstrike. It’s an extra interesting specimen as it has a fixed provenance Capalbio, Italy, 1954 (RRCH 258).
This morning I started weeping as I read about the Agonalia.
Simon Price was an amazing scholar, a brilliant teacher and one of most kind and humane men I’ve ever known. He gave me my first teaching job. Back summer term of 1997 I had a series of undergraduate tutorials with him on Roman religion. I’d been to his lectures the previous term and was in awe of all the rich materials, tidbits of evidence from here and there he marshaled together into a captivating narrative, a narrative that showed something of all the questions left to be asked. He’d stand by the window in his black robe and look out of the room as he talked, making sense of the patchwork quilt of sources he’d assembled on a single handout.
The tutorials were good, but it was summer and Oxford was full of distractions. I found the way of thinking about the history of religion, very different from reading Polybius. The Isis essay was fine, a novelty really, but boy did I struggle the week on Ovid’s Fasti. He wanted me to answer the question what use is this poem to the historian. I thought I’d never read anything quite so dull.
This morning I started by reading the Fasti. I love every bit of it. Like a sibylline book, every time I read it, it seems new again and perfectly relevant to my project at hand. I never seem to be able to see or understand or remember a passage of it until the moment I need it. Simon was right, of course. He tried to teach me to read it. At least I got there eventually.
I regret most fervently never writing to him before he passed away about what he meant to me. Or just to say thank you. If there is someone you should write to, trust me it will be better to do it now, than redraft the letter over and over again in your mind for all the years to come.
One shouldn’t really talk about those Fonteian coins as I was doing yesterday without adding in this coin of Q. Lutatius Cerco (quaestor, but whose quaestor?). It was minted between the two other issues with full ship reverses. It is given by Crawford a historical not legendary interpretation. It’s seen as a celebration of the navel victory of C. Lutatius Catulus in 241 BC. It clearly inspired by the first Fonteian coin and in turn inspires the design of the second. The element it adds to the design are the overlapping shields above the oars. This is a feature also seen on sculptural reliefs. The reason this seems important to me is that the supposed doliolum of symbolic importance on the stern of the second Fonteian coin, looks to me as just another shield added for decoration:
On some specimens like this one that haven’t been rubbed smooth it even seems to have the same line decoration. I’ve not been able to find a parallel of a shield placed in this position on a ship depicted in other media. (Largely because looking for one is a distraction from the book!)
Postscript. Do those two big stars on Roma’s helmet recall the dioscuri/penates? Notice the stars over the Penates heads on Mn. Fonteius’ coin.
Notice the dioscuri caps in front of the prows on this rather rare variation on the standard design of the as. There is a victory palm above. Perhaps further evidence that there is some association between navel victory (victories?) and the Dioscuri?
Update 4/29/14: Compare the placement of the rear shield on this representation:
So later in the day I’m still thinking about those pesky penates and their iconography. The most indisputable example is from late in the Republican series, c.47 BC, the image above. It has two heads side by side just like the earlier issues and labels them very clearly. Diadems instead of laurel crowns but otherwise very similar and clearly labeled. The other time they appear on the obverse of a coin is just one year (according to Mattingly) after the Fonteius coin I discussed in the last post. Notice the abbreviation DPP = Dei Penates Publici.
No mention of the Dioscuri here. Just a visual description. One that in fact sounds awfully like that which we see on this coin representing the Lares Praestites (early post):
Then there is question of the degree to which we want to argue in reverse like this. We’re basing (with good reason I think) each earlier image on the next more clearly labelled instance of the same iconography. So the first Penates/Ship coin by a Fonteius (RRC 290/1) has a janiform laureate head not two jugate heads. In this it looks quite a bit like this MUCH early didrachm standard obverse:
How do we know this earlier image is of the Dioscuri, not say the Dei Penates?
Then finally there is the issue of saying the Dioscuri connection the coins is an indication of their connection with Tusculum. What do the Dioscuri have to do with Tusculum? They were honored there but not really any more than other towns as far as I can tell. Here’s the often cited Cicero passage:
The penates on the other hand are most often associated with Lavinium, if anywhere other than Rome. And if the ship is carrying the Trojan gods to Italy on the reverse of those Fonteii coins, it seems like Tusculum might be the big red herring in the conversation. Until we add in this aureus of 43 BC (as per Woytek’s Arma et nummi, 2003):
The stars and pilei make clear the Dioscuri emphasis and the reverse is a most unusual representation of the walls of Tusculum with its main gate. The walls and height of Tusculum was proverbial and usually linked to some legendary origin (Telegonus or Circe): Hor. Ep. 1.29‐30. Ov. Fast. 3.92, Sil. Ital. 12.535, Hor. Od. 3.29.8, Prop. 2.32.4, and Sil. Ital. 7.692. The representation is similar to but different from the DPP. Does it help us resolve the Fonteian coins? I’m not sure, but it keeps Tusculum strongly in the mix.
Update 4/16/2014: Note this claim in Torelli 1995: 114:
This is a lovely example of the coin of C. Fonteius. Notice the care taken with the details. The dog or wolf’s head on the ram about prow is particularly impressive. It’s even clearer on this specimen. The ship has been given a crew and a prominent helmsman. The rudder is emphasized as is the aplustre and the fillets off of it. His brother or cousin Mn. Fonteius made a similar coin a few years later:
The is another version of this second issue that looks a little different:
My unscientific survey suggests there are fewer of these in trade today, even though the British Museum has a number of examples. The differences are small, but significant. PP is added to the obverse, resolved Penates Publici. The other difference is the oval shape in the stern of the ship. Crawford in 1971 identified this as a doliolum containing the sacra of Troy and hypothesized a connection between the Dioscuri, the penates publici and these sacra.
I find this plausible if not one hundred percent certain. My issue comes with the identification of RRC 290/1 the earlier coin. Crawford happily extends the Dioscuri interpretation back to the janiform head on 290, but gives a completely different reading of the ship. He sees it as connected to Telegonus the founder of Tusculum’s overseas origins. This seem a stretch. The two coins produced in the same family with nearly identical images should, I think, have the same explanation. If one represents the arrival of the sacra from Troy, so does the other.
Here’s the comparative image Crawford discusses:
The three quarters perspective used on RRC 307/1 is a familiar style for depicted Roman galleys in Pompeian frescoes:
How early were the Penates associated with the Aeneas narrative? Apparently some time before the third century at least:
The first time I saw an image of this mosaic I thought the spellings of the names very odd. PWMYΛΛΟC and PWΔC, except the delta looks like it has a tail like a funny iota script. So perhaps its reads PWAiC, but that doesn’t make much sense either. At with point I stopped worrying about it because its way after my period and just a distraction from getting this book done.
Then today I started thinking about that odd letter in the twin’s name who isn’t Romyllos or Romulus or however you want to spell it. I was reading Wiseman’s chapter on L. Brutus in his Unwritten Rome (2008) and I read this fragment of Alcimus (FGrH 560 F 4 = Festus 326-8L):
Alcimus says that Romulus was the son of Aeneas’ wife Tyrrhenia, and from Romulus was born Aeneas’ granddaughter Alba, whose son, called Rhodius, founded Rome.
Wiseman goes on (p. 302 ff.) to explain that ardea means heron and so does rhodios in Greek and so this passage is about Ardea claiming to be founder of Rome.
Anyways. I doubt a late Syrian mosaicist was following Alcimus or anything.
Tatius, legendary king of the Sabines and co-regent at Rome for 5 years with Romulus, is used by two moneyers in the Republic as an obverse type. Tatius appear in some of the earliest Latin literature in a famously alliterative line of Ennius:
Warmington in the Loeb clearly assumes a negative context (above). This reading has been endorsed again by a recent introductory essay on Ennius. [Not bad little introduction to his alliterative tendencies there too.] By contrast Elliott very recently has swung out to an opposite positive direction: