bluuebunny/crossref_metadata_2025 huggingface dataset:
‘The Roman occupation of Britain and our own occupation of India’
Authors: Hingley Richard
Published: November 2020

The late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries were a time of significant social change, with the industrialization of society and a massive increase in population, but there was no sudden transformation of ideas about Roman Britain. During this period, significant new archaeological finds came to light as a result of development associated with the industrialization of society, including the excavation of quarries, the construction of sewers, canals, and railways, while deep ploughing located further buried remains in the countryside. Writing in 1849, Charles Tucker suggested that the scale of development since the mid 1820s had contributed ‘so extensively to more certain knowledge of the habits and manners of the early occupants’ of Britain. Improvements in public transport resulted in a wider popular interest in the past, with the creation of national and regional archaeological societies, including the British Archaeological Association, which held its first meeting in 1844. These new organizations held meetings at which antiquaries could discuss archaeological discoveries, while the published proceedings disseminated knowledge. The realization of the antiquity of the human race brought about a serious and sustained challenge to the biblical story of creation during the middle of the nineteenth century. Gradually, with the developing knowledge of geology, ‘prehistory’ was seen to represent a great depth of time and this made it possible to conceive of a chronologically based understanding of the ‘primeval’ past. Understandings of Roman Britain, however, were slower to change, since they were based on more firmly established roots derived from centuries of study of classical texts, artefacts, and sites. Nevertheless, important discoveries helped to formulate new ideas. The period from the 1780s to 1820 was highly significant with the impressive architectural remains discovered at Bath and at a number of Roman villa sites, demonstrating the wealth of some elements of society in Roman southern Britain. The context for reflection upon these archaeological remains was transformed through the actions of British collectors in the Eastern Mediterranean who, from the 1840s, brought home classical monuments and artefacts for display in the British Museum. A renewed focus of interest in ‘the Roman Wall’ developed in the mid nineteenth century, while significant new work was undertaken on the buried Roman remains at London, Cirencester, Silchester, and Verulamium.
‘They Tell You Lies’: Is Paranoia Increasing?
Authors: Freeman Daniel , Freeman Jason
Published: November 2020

On the evening of 15 February 1996, the 147,000 tonne tanker Sea Empress ran aground on rocks at the entrance to Milford Haven harbour in south-west Wales. (The ship’s pilot, it later emerged, had been making his first ever solo attempt at the manoeuvre.) Over the next week, 72,000 tonnes of crude oil and 360 tonnes of heavy fuel oil seeped from the wreck into the sea, contaminating 200 kilometres of the Welsh coastline, much of it part of the exceptionally beautiful and ecologically diverse Pembrokeshire Coast National Park. More than 50,000 birds were killed or injured. The devastating effects of the Sea Empress disaster weren’t confined, however, to the flora and fauna of the National Park. In the wake of the oil spill, local people found themselves experiencing a range of health problems, including headaches, nausea, and skin irritation. And yet when we look closely at these accounts, something curious emerges. The first symptoms were reported as early as the first day of the incident. But at that stage very little oil had escaped from the wrecked tanker. Whatever was causing these first headaches and feelings of nausea, it wasn’t the Sea Empress. Indeed, people living on stretches of the coast that were entirely unaffected by the spill also complained of symptoms. How do we explain physical symptoms without an obvious physical cause? In the case of the Sea Empress disaster, it’s likely that they were the direct result of anxiety. It’s an established formula. Take one catastrophe, add extensive media coverage, and watch public anxiety grow. Think back, for example, to the anthrax scares that swept the US in September and October 2001. During these weeks, letters containing anthrax spores were sent to a number of senators and media organizations. Five people died and a further seventeen were also infected. (To date, the case is still unsolved.) With anxiety in the US already ratcheted to unprecedented levels by the September 11 attacks, hundreds of people soon began reporting that they too had been the victims of anthrax poisoning, with many complaining of symptoms.
Environmental and Climate Perspectives on New World, Old World, and South-East Asian Societies’ Achievements in the Hydraulic Sciences
Authors: Ortloff Charles R.
Published: November 2020

The foregoing chapters detail the many technical innovations in water supply, distribution, and management for several Old World, New World, and South- East Asian societies. For most of the New World’s societies, basic water resource problems evolved around securing their agricultural base given the unique environmental and water resource conditions prevalent in their locations. Diverse New World societies occupying different environment niches from dry coastal margins to wet highlands, often subject to vastly different average temperatures, crop types, and water variation cycles, were shown to devise different approaches to the development of their agricultural bases. While rainfall runoff from mountain watersheds sourced the many rivers of coastal Peruvian valleys and provided the basis for canal irrigation, excessive rainfall and cold in Andean highland locations allowed groundwater-based farming using raised Welds that had thermodynamic advantages based on conservation of the sun’s heat to prevent root crop destruction during freezing nights. The presence of varying climate cycles (excessive rainfall and drought) was seen to influence modifications in coastal canal systems. Alterations in canal size and placement to accommodate reduced-water supplies were evident in intravalley coastal systems where modifications were relatively straightforward in sandy environments. Intervalley water transfers through massive canal systems were a further characteristic of a flexible response to maintain the water resource base and this often involved the transfer of river water from one valley to another depending on agricultural, economic, and political priorities. With increased need for more agricultural lands to meet population demands, increasingly lower slope canals were surveyed to include further downslope lands. Here technical innovation was a key factor in providing surveying expertise to maintain low-slope contour canals. While such canals are found at very early Formative and Preceramic sites, surveying techniques became more refined in time to permit greater use of land areas reachable by low-slope canals. Here both Old and New World societies share their dependence on surveying technology to meet water transfer demands. While Roman surveying favoured the most direct aqueduct routing necessitating long, linear aqueduct structures interspersed with siphons and multitier aqueducts structures where appropriate, New World surveying was different in that canal designs following landscape contours were prevalent and, in some cases, optimized to produce specific and/or maximum flow rate designs. Specific measures to create hydraulic control structures to defend against El Niño destruction are evident in the New World archaeological record indicating an active, innovative engineering response to climate and weather-induced disasters, probably based on the memory of prior destructive events.
Subsistence Sustained: Swidden or Milpa Cultivation
Authors: Klepeis Peter , Vance Colin
Published: November 2020

From the modern settlement of the southern Yucatán peninsular region to the present, smallholder farmers have followed a system of cultivation variously labeled swidden, slash-and-burn, or shifting within agricultural typologies (Watters 1971; but see Denevan 1992), and known as milpa in the Yucatán and Maya lowlands. Milpa cultivation has been so pervasive historically and geographically throughout the peninsula and the subject of such an extensive literature, that its description is only briefly reviewed here. Understanding the character and dynamics of this system of cultivation, including its long-term prognosis for continued use within the development of the region, is essential for understanding land changes and modeling them, although recent changes in cropping strategies portend the emergence of a ‘new’ kind of milpa. Swidden cultivation in the region, as elsewhere in Middle America, is invariably undertaken as an outfield activity—located at some distance from the farmstead—and is accompanied by small but complex housegardens or solares adjacent to and surrounding the house (e.g. Killion 1992; but see Gómez-Pompa 1987). The house-garden not only provides shade for the abode, it provides fruits, nuts, medicinal and ornamental plants, and a place for cropping experiments (Keys 1999). The extent and elaboration of house-gardens in the southern Yucatán peninsular region appears to be tied to the length of residency and, perhaps, ethnicity of the resident. Maya people, for example, tend to maintain large and elaborate solares. House-gardens tend to be smaller, even unrecognizable to the untrained eye, in the few densely settled communities in the region (e.g. Xpujil). As these gardens are not yet a central element of the broader dynamic of land change in the region, they are not given further attention here. The outfield or swidden supplies maize (Zea mays L.), planted in several varieties and serving as the consumption staple. Depending on the household, some portion of the maize crop may be sold. This ‘dual’ production function has been part of swidden in the region at least since the opening of Highway 186, reflecting government policy promoting commercial maize production (Ch. 7) and the abundant land awarded to individual ejidatarios at that time.
Rural Communities in Early Medieval Europe: Archaeological Approaches and Frameworks
Authors: Hamerow Helena
Published: November 2020

The primary aim of this book is to provide an overview of the evidence for the settlements and everyday life of rural communities in northwest Europe from c. ad 400 to 900, broadly the period from the collapse of the western Roman Empire to the rise of early states in its former provinces and Scandinavia. Its secondary purpose is to relate this evidence, which comes mainly from archaeological excavations, to Anglo-Saxon England and to consider its implications for our understanding of settlements here. Each chapter concludes, therefore, with a brief discussion of the comparable evidence from England, even though detailed comparisons cannot always be drawn due to differences in the quantity and nature of the data available. The evidence is examined under five broad topics: buildings and what the ‘built environment’ tells us about the household and its activities; the layout of farmsteads and settlements and how these may reflect the social structure of communities; the formation of territories and demographic developments; farming strategies; and, finally, the role of non-agrarian production and exchange in the economies of rural settlements. Working with evidence spanning such a broad chronological and geographical range is naturally beset with methodological difficulties. One obvious complication is introduced by the different traditions of periodization and terminology used by scholars working in different countries. Thus, a settlement dating to the sixth century might be described as ‘Germanic Iron Age’, ‘Migration period’, ‘early Anglo-Saxon’, or ‘Merovingian’, depending on its location. The chapters which follow draw primarily on evidence from a large region, stretching from southern Scandinavia, through northwest Germany to the Netherlands. This brings with it the danger of adopting a ‘melting pot’ approach, however unintentionally (Halsall 1995a, 1–3). Yet, an appreciation of regional, indeed local, diversity and of the potential for rapid social change in this period is essential. This North Sea zone has been chosen, furthermore, not out of a misguided belief in a ‘homogeneous Germanic culture’ (ibid.), but because it was in close cultural and economic contact with England and includes the regions from which the Anglo-Saxons believed their forebears to have originated.
Epilogue: Trajectories and Turning-Points
Authors: Hamerow Helena
Published: November 2020

A survey such as this one can only present a fraction of the archaeological evidence available for early medieval settlements, yet even a relatively brief review of this evidence makes plain the remarkable diversity of these settlements in terms of form and economy; the communities they represent were far from being simple, isolated, and economically primitive as so often portrayed in traditional historical scholarship. In particular, the recognition on the one hand of highstatus complexes dating to the Migration period and, on the other, farming communities of ‘ordinary’ status which were extensively engaged in trade and non-agrarian production, points to a higher degree of economic complexity, integration, and resilience than was previously imagined. Furthermore, the archaeology, when viewed in toto, points to what has aptly been dubbed ‘the long eighth century’, namely the period from c.680 to 830,1 as a turning-point, not only in terms of settlement structure and architecture, but also in the organization of landed production and regional exchange. By 800, as we have seen, rural settlements in the North Sea zone were configured in ways that were markedly different from their Migration period predecessors. The longhouse had, in most regions, undergone a radical transformation or been given up altogether; settlements were increasingly planned and bounded; farming and craft activities, as well as the circulation of goods, showed signs of a wide-ranging reorganization; and elite families had stamped an increasingly separate group identity onto the landscape as they established distinctive settlements and buried their dead in new burial grounds away from the communal cemeteries of their ancestors. While the very nature of archaeological evidence does not permit us to point with certainty to the specific causes which lay behind these changes, the emergence of kingdoms in northwest Europe provides the backdrop against which they can best be understood. The development of early states—specifically in Denmark and England—and the northward expansion of Frankish colonial activities required both increased production and the mobilization of agrarian resources into an increasingly centralized political system. Indeed, an increased emphasis on surplus extraction must lie behind many of the changes observable in the plant and animal remains of this period and in the remnants of craft production, as well as in the greater size and storage capacities of at least some farmsteads in central Jutland, Lower Saxony, Westphalia, and Drenthe.
The Bust
Authors: Gannon Anna
Published: November 2020

One of the most enduring legacies of Roman coinage is that of busts on coins. No matter how debased the image might appear to be, the appeal of classical prototypes is evident. Though Rome cannot claim to have introduced portraiture to coinage, it used it extensively to put forward political propaganda. On Roman coins portraiture passed from renderings of great realism to mystically idealized anonymous representations influenced by Hellenistic fashion, that is from standard profiles of Western type to three-quarter or frontal portraits of Oriental inspiration. With the advent of Christianity and the absorption of Greek abstract ideas of kingship and authority, models became more stylized with greater emphasis put on the symbols of authority rather than the physiognomy of the king. As Donald Bullough points out, it is now very difficult to appreciate the full impact that these images, whether ‘representations or presentations’, would have had on the people, because we see the coins in isolation, divorced from all the reinforcing ritualizing propaganda of the Imperial machinery. The perceived effectiveness of the imagery is evident from the close adherence to the convention of portraiture on the independent coinage of the Barbarian states. Portraits, whilst retaining their charismatic importance on coins, and many of the features of Roman prototypes, such as the positioning of the bust, headgear, and attributes, were flexible enough to accommodate different tastes and traditions, as well as artistic experiments and subtly changing propaganda messages. It is the variety of Anglo-Saxon responses that will be examined in the following sections, because these peculiarities are particularly valuable, as they allow us glimpses into ‘native’ customs and taste, and alternative sources of inspiration. Among these, for instance, are bearded portraits. Anglo-Saxon coins on the whole show clean-shaven faces, but those with beards are independent from Roman coins portraying curly-bearded emperors. The types of beards reproduced might mirror local fashions, or make a particular statement. One might wonder if the striking arrangement of the runes spelling the end of the name of the moneyer Tilbeorht on the East Anglian coins of Series R, recalling a throat beard under the chin, as seen on the Undley bracteate and the Sutton Hoo whetstone, may be a conscious archaism.
Hunting, Wildlife, and Imperialism in Southern Africa
Authors: Beinart William , Hughes Lotte
Published: November 2020

Imperial networks in northern North America flowed initially along the waterways that gave access to the trade-associated hunting, trapping, timber extraction, and related activities. Hunting was essential to many indigenous societies, and required relatively little investment for the first wave of traders and settlers. It generated valuable resources in a number of colonized zones. But hunting frontiers in the British Empire differed. In part, the reasons were environmental. The assemblage of species in North America and Africa were possibly more similar 15,000 years ago ‘when the American West looked much as [the] Serengeti plains do today’. Large mammals including mammoths, big cats, and wild horses roamed the northern hemisphere prairies. Climate change, combined with the impact of rapid human migration through the Americas 10–12,000 years ago, resulted in many extinctions so that the wildlife of the two areas had become distinctive by the onset of European colonization. This opened up divergent opportunities for consumption and trade. Southern Africa was a frontier of heat rather than cold. There were no animals with the thick glossy fur favoured by Europeans for outer garments or for felt. Southern Africa’s most prized hunted commodity—aside from meat—was equally unpredictable. While mammoths had been exterminated in North America, an elephant species with large tusks survived into the modern era in Africa. Environmental factors also shaped the technology of hunting and carriage. Southern Africa lacked navigable rivers and lakes; Canada’s abundance of water was matched by South Africa’s dearth. Although the spread of firearms and horses was common to both regions, South Africa’s transport sinews were dusty, rutted ox-wagon tracks across the veld rather than the cool, wooded lakes and streams along which canoes could be paddled. In part, differences resulted from the chance value of particular animal products. Southern Africa was home to an extraordinary range of large mammals. The richness of wildlife can be judged by the variety of predators at the top of the food chain—lions, leopards, cheetahs, caracals, hyenas, wild dogs, jackals, as well as smaller cats. The antelope population was unparalleled in the diversity of its species. But variety did not in itself translate into value.
Imperial Travellers
Authors: Beinart William , Hughes Lotte
Published: November 2020

In a global maritime empire, travel was intrinsic. As sailors and slavers, traders and hunters, Europeans traversed colonized space and literacy gave them the power to record what they saw and found. In their mapping and classification of lands and peoples, many of these travellers helped to commodify and package the resources of empire. In their fulsome descriptions of the riches of overseas territories, they made these lands and all that they contained desirable to prospective hunters, settlers, speculators, and administrators. The direct uses that imperial powers made of traveller’s accounts were hinted at in 1887 by British explorer and geologist Joseph Thomson, in a note to the second edition of his best-selling Through Masai Land. “Then [1885] Masai land was for the first time made known to the world; now it has come within the “sphere of British influence”—a delicate way, I suppose, of saying that it now practically forms a part of our imperial possessions.’ In fact British East Africa, of which Maasailand formed a large part, was not established for another eight years, in 1895. But Thomson anticipated accurately: having ‘discovered’ and mapped a direct route from the coast to Lake Victoria, which cut right across Maasailand to Uganda, and described the rich pickings (including fertile land, valuable pastures, water sources, timber, and game animals) that lay along the route, he had paved the way for European trade and takeover. Sir John Kirk, British agent and consul at Zanzibar, wrote that Thomson’s ‘admirable description is the only reliable one we yet possess of the region thus secured to us, if we choose to avail ourselves of the opportunity’. Britain, anxious about Germany’s competitive ambitions, duly took it. From the mid-eighteenth century a particular kind of traveller did more than most to promote the natural potential of empire: those who combined touring with botany and other scientific, or quasi-scientific, enquiries. The avid collection of specimens—from fauna and flora through, in some cases, to human body parts—had become an adjunct to the European adventurer’s taxonomy of the natural world. Since European expansion coincided with the development of print, as illustrated in our chapter on hunting, the production and publication of texts became a by-product of travel.
Forests and Forestry in India
Authors: Beinart William , Hughes Lotte
Published: November 2020

The ‘riches’ of provincial India that were shown at the Punjab Exhibition of 1864 were later described in two hefty volumes by B. H. Baden-Powell of the Bengal Civil Service as the Hand-Book of the Economic Products of the Punjab. It began simply as a catalogue of all the items exhibited, but mushroomed into something more. Timber and other forest products featured alongside minerals, metals, manufacturing dyes, pottery, salt, and soils. A section was devoted to animal products such as lac (later used to make gramophone records), silk, musk, and wool; opium and 2,038 other drugs were listed, as well as the economic crops tea, cotton, flax, spices, grains, and pulses. Baden-Powell savoured the size, colour, and quality of each specimen, interspersed with grand descriptions of the countryside from which they came. But it was their uses, primarily to empire, and also to local communities, which distinguished these specimens. ‘A collection properly grouped together’, Baden-Powell wrote in the introduction, ‘becomes to the intelligent spectator a perfect history of the social condition of the country it represents’. More particularly, this provided a shopping list of tradable resources and their uses—a detailed breakdown of the natural wealth of India, about which many classical writers had enthused. Indigenous hardwoods were prime riches in this treasure trove; essential to the British army, navy, and railways, they became cogs in the conquest of India. The new demands inevitably led to deforestation. This chapter explores the debates over exploitation of India’s forests, and focuses more specifically on the rise of conservationist concerns, in which forestry played a major role. By conservation, we mean a set of ideas and practices that aimed at efficient and regulated usage of natural resources, so that they would be maintained in the longer term. We also consider forests as contested spaces, and the implications of their reservation for access to resources—in particular by local people. We have touched on conservationist views in respect of wildlife (Chapters 4 and 5) but it is important to examine forestry since it had such a major impact upon peoples and landscapes over time, it was a precursor to other forms of scientific environmental management, and the ideas and practices developed in India were exported to other parts of the Empire.
Water, Irrigation, and Agrarian Society in India and Egypt
Authors: Beinart William , Hughes Lotte
Published: November 2020

Water drives the world. Without it, our bodies cannot function, settlement is impossible, livestock die, and farmers cannot grow crops that feed millions. Great civilizations have been built upon irrigation, and fallen when the irrigation failed. Water carried armies, navies, commodities and labour across the globe, into places unreachable by land transport, and at far lower cost. When harnessed it produced steam engines and electricity, and helped to power industrial society. This natural resource, both fresh and salt, helped shape the patterns of empire in terms of the location of settlement and routes of communication. Irrigation became a major enterprise in the British Empire. Dammed and channelled water did not become a commodity in quite the same way as sugar, furs, or teak. But direct charges were often made for channelled water, and its value was also materialized in crops and livestock. In many places, control of water was intimately bound up with command over territory. State-owned irrigation is a highly visible assertion of power, and management of water has sometimes required a centralized and ruthless bureaucracy, not least in order to collect the new revenues generated. As with forestry, colonial states tended to claim that their approach to water involved greater rationality and efficiency, in contrast to existing indigenous practices—though individual engineers did praise the ingenuity of the latter. Some scholars have argued that despotism has followed human attempts to assert authority over water and its products, because it is a very basic way in which one group of people can dominate other, weaker groups. Such controls could also be a bedfellow of capitalist enterprise and empire. Making the link between the control of water and the rise of empires, Donald Worster has written of the American West: ‘[It] can best be described as a modern hydraulic society, which is to say, a social order based on the intensive, large-scale manipulation of water and its products in an arid setting…The technological control of water was the basis of a new West’. Ultimately, it helped to make California the leading state in America.
Imperial Scientists, Ecology, and Conservation
Authors: Beinart William , Hughes Lotte
Published: November 2020

Imperial scientists have appeared in a number of our chapters: Cleghorn, protagonist of forest conservation in India; Willcocks, the self-critical dambuilder extraordinary in Egypt and India; Simpson, the plague doctor, and Bruce, who researched trypanosomiasis in southern Africa. The early centuries of empire preceded professionalization, but scientific interests were even then at its heart. Species transfers were, as we have suggested, a long-term preoccupation and closely related to scientific enterprise. The maritime empires that characterized the last half-millennium depended upon nautical technology and navigation science, and this distinguished them from preceding, more geographically restricted, land empires. Naval power and the expansion of shipping permitted a different social geography of empire, linking Europe to the Americas, the tropics, and the southern temperate zones, and partly bypassing the torrid task of conquest in Europe and the Muslim world. Shipping carried the freight of trading empires, literally and metaphorically. Especially from the mid-nineteenth century, scientists were central actors in imperial development. They helped to pioneer new technologies that facilitated discovery, and vastly more effective exploitation, of hidden natural resources, such as gold, oil, and rubber. A growing arms gap underpinned the European power bloc and conquest was so rapid and so widespread in the later decades of the nineteenth century not least because it was relatively easy and inexpensive. Constraints imposed by environment and disease were gradually driven back, by dams, boreholes, and the partial prophylaxis against malaria. Communications, based around steam and iron, telegraphs, railways, and roads were the ‘tentacles of progress’ in the new empire, opening up new routes for exploitation. They bound together increasingly modern, planned cities, zones of hydraulic imperialism, mining, and similar enterprises. Scientists and science in empire have received intense critical attention over the last couple of decades. This is especially so in African history and social sciences which, from their inception as self-conscious areas of academic enquiry, in the dying days of colonialism, tried to write from the vantage point of Africans and to decolonize European minds. From the late 1970s, when it was clear that African nationalist narratives and ambitions had been corrupted, Africanists tended to evince an unease with modernization and development, so closely linked to both the late colonial and nationalist projects.
Terminology for type classification and artefact function
Authors: Allison Penelope M.
Published: November 2020

This chapter discusses Latin, Greek and Italian artefact labels used in the Giornali degli Scavi and in the Pompeian inventories on which this artefact catalogue is based, as well as English labels frequently used by modern scholars for Roman artefacts more generally. Scholars tend to use these labels to distinguish artefacts according to shape or form. In general, they have followed Daremberg and Saglio’s detailed study of Greek and Latin terminology. However, some of these labels (e.g., unguentarium) are not original Latin words but have been invented by archaeologists for certain forms of artefacts. Essentially, archaeologists, writing typological catalogues of Roman artefacts, have tended to formalize nomenclature to enable them to classify excavated material according to form and type, in a manner which is comprehensible to other archaeologists. That said, however, the use of this nomenclature is not always consistent across the discipline. More significantly, this formalization often ascribes function to Roman artefacts without adequate validation. Labelling is useful for organizing the material typologically for production-oriented studies, but it can sometimes be misleading for consumption-oriented studies and for studies concerned with artefact function. An important issue, especially with regard to Latin labels for found objects, is that textual nomenclature and archaeological form are not necessarily equivalent. For example, Apicius’ frequent use of the term caccabus, for cooking pot, probably signifies that this was a more generic term than ahenum, rather than that the two terms represent two different forms that are distinguishable in the material record. Such lack of correspondence between the textual terminology and the material record is apparent when one compares, for example, the discussion of the term fritillus by Daremberg and Saglio with the uses and formalization of this term by archaeologists. The following list and discussion identifies the types of Pompeian artefacts to which a specific, largely standardized, nomenclature has been assigned, in both the Pompeii archives and in publications of Pompeii material. By understanding which term is used for which artefact, it is often possible to ascertain the type of an artefact catalogued in the Giornali degli Scavi or in the Pompeii inventories when that particular artefact is no longer extant.
House I 10,2–3
Authors: Allison Penelope M.
Published: November 2020

Giornali degli Scavi A,VI,6 (May 1912–Mar. 1929): 451 (12 Nov. 1926); 452 (23–7 Nov. 1926); 459 (6–10 Dec. 1926). A,VI,7 (Apr. 1929–Dec 1935): 202 (5–6 July 1932, probably this house); 203 (8 July 1932); 204 (14 July 1932); 205 (16 and 19 July 1932); 206 (20 July 1932); 207 (22–3 July 1932); 235 (31 Oct. 1932). Elia 1934: 271–5. The façade of this house was excavated in November 1926, the main entrance on 12 November and the shop entrance on 23 November (GdSc A,VI,6: 451–3). The shop was excavated in December 1926 (GdSc A,VI,6: 459), and the rest of the house was completely excavated between 14 and 23 July 1932 (GdSc A,VI,7: 204–7), although a small excavation was carried out on 31 October between rooms 4 and 6 to see if there were any traces of an impluvium (GdSc A,VI,7: 235). Description: medium size, illegible. Present location: sent to Naples, Coll. Med., missing (Pompeii inv. no. 3823: not reinventoried). Description: As, of Gaius (ad 37–8). Present location: Naples, Coll. Med. (Pompeii inv. no. 3824A: not reinventoried). Description: Sestante, Republican (post 211 bc). Present location: Naples, Coll. Med. (Pompeii inv. no. 3824B: not reinventoried). Description: remains of iron rod, of square section (10 mm × 10 mm). Present location: in situ in west jamb. Discussion: undoubtedly fragments from closing system for the main entrance to this house. i. Base dimensions: 250 mm × 100 mm (GdSc). Marble base with rectangular incision. ii. fragment of a small square pilaster: h.: 460 mm. Present location: unknown, not inventoried at time of excavation. Discussion: probably from furniture such as a pedestalled basin (e.g. Pernice 1932: pl. 26.3) or a table (e.g. cat. no. 737). Dimensions: h.: 0.84 m (GdSc). Description: Amphora with traces of inscription in red on the neck. One-third full of yellowish material. Inscription of six lines, last three possibly reading: Della Corte interpreted the fourth and fifth lines as ‘annorum III, CXC Norbani’. Present location: unknown, not inventoried. Reference: possibly Della Corte 1933: 282, no. 55. Discussion: According to Elia (1934: 275) the contents were similar to bran. They were probably foodstuffs.
Casa degli Amanti (I 10,10–11)
Authors: Allison Penelope M.
Published: November 2020

Giornali degli Scavi A,VI,7 (Apr. 1929–Dec. 1935): 305–32 (1 Mar.–13 May 1933). Elia 1934: 321–39. The excavations of this house were mainly carried out between March and May 1933, after those of the Casa del Menandro, Casa del Fabbro, and House I 10,8. Excavations to the south of the peristyle garden of the Casa del Menandro, from September 1930, included the upper part of this house. They show comparable attention to the location of finds and the state of the deposit. Description: fragmentary handle. Present location: unknown, not inventoried at time of excavation. Discussion: probably a door handle. Dimensions: l.: 66 mm; diam.: 32 mm. Description: Bronze fitting with a solid spheroid head and shaft of circular section (max. diam.: 9 mm). Traces of iron corroded to the end of the shaft. Shaft incomplete, with a groove just above the extant end. Present location: Pompeii Collection, CB (inv. no. 5551). Discussion: Excavators identified this as a stud. However, it is more likely to be a terminal for an object, such as a steelyard, although it is rather large (see terminal of cat. no. 1778). Dimensions: 100 mm × 60 mm (GdSc). Present location: unknown, not inventoried at time of excavation. Discussion: too small for a furniture base, possibly for a statuette or vessels. Dimensions: h.: 300 mm (GdSc). Description: small amphora. Present location: unknown, not inventoried at time of excavation. Discussion: Too small for a transportation amphora, probably a household storage jar. See discussion on amphora. Dimensions: h.: 100 mm (GdSc). Description: pyramidal loom weight. Present location: unknown, not inventoried at time of excavation. Discussion: Probably similar to cat. no. 904. See discussion on loom weights. Dimensions: l.: 54 mm; preserved h.: 30 mm. Description: Bow-shaped bronze brooch. Bow consisting of a flattened piece of bronze (w.: 7 mm) with a ridge along the centre, decorated with small dots. Horizontal pivot of circular section with an iron pin. Triangular catch-plate terminating in a knob. Pin missing. Present location: Pompeii Collection, CB (inv. no. 5552). Discussion: similar to cat. no. 311 except slightly larger.
House I 10,18
Authors: Allison Penelope M.
Published: November 2020

Giornale degli Scavi A,VI,6 (May 1912–Mar. 1929): 451–2 (12 Nov. 1926) A,VI,7 (Apr. 1929–Dec. 1935): 207–8 (25–6 July 1932); 216–17 (4–7 Aug. 1932); 219 (13 Aug. 1932); 220 (18 Aug. 1932); 221 (19 Aug. 1932). Elia 1934: 341–4. The excavation of this house began from the rear of House I 10,2–3, and the area of the latrine and kitchen. Later excavation proceeded from the upper storey in the front of the house. The recording was possibly less careful than in the larger houses in the insula which were considered more important. For example, Elia did not mention any of the finds from here. Since excavation, the house has been used as a workshop for the gardeners and labourers working on the site but was being restored in 2001. No recorded finds. Vases of various types. i. Preserved h.: c.1.2 m; diam.: c.240 mm; neck diam.: c.100 mm. Fabric: orange, relatively fine. Description: Amphora with a pointed base, cylindrical body, and marked shoulder. Strap handles attached to the shoulder and neck. Large rolled, and vertically flattened, rim. Present location: one left in situ, others unknown, possibly left in room 10. Not inventoried at time of excavation. Discussion: Arthur identifies the remaining amphora as an unprovenanced Italian wine amphora, of form Dressel 1B. He notes that the type was late Republican, the latest dated examples of which bear the consular date for 13 bc (CIL, xv. 4539 and 4575). He therefore notes that this amphora is of considerable interest as it survived in use for at least ninety years after its date of manufacture. Arthur suggests that its longevity, perhaps explained by its use as a container for an ageing vintage, adds a note of caution to the adoption of single artefacts for the dating of archaeological contexts. Dimensions: total l.: 331 mm; dimensions of case: 95 mm × 85 mm × 25 mm. Description: Rectangular iron lock-box and parallel iron bars. Box decorated on upper surface with iron bosses in the form of broad-brimmed hats (head diam.: 18 mm). Each corner boss is part of an attachment nail.
Casa del Fabbro Supplement
Authors: Allison Penelope M.
Published: November 2020

As in the Casa del Menandro Supplement, the descriptions and measurements in the following entries have been translated directly from the inventories compiled by Antonio d’Ambrosio, during the organization and storage of the finds that were reportedly removed from the Casa del Fabbro between 1979 and 1981. Dimensions: h.: 132 mm; diam: 490 mm; l.: 530 mm. Description: complete mortar with two stamps: a. ‘corona ST.MARC[/RESTITUT[.]’, and b. ‘corona ST.MAR[/RESTITUT[.]’ Present location: Pompeii Collection, GF (inv. no. 17829). Discussion: Probably one of cat. no. 1364. See discussion on mortarium. Dimensions: l.: 228 mm; dim. of poll: 50 mm × 45 mm. Description: Heavy, relatively straight axehead with a poll of rectangular section. The eye has traces of a wooden handle. Complete. Present location: Pompeii Collection, CB (inv. no. 18223). Reference: Elia 1934: 306, fig. 22 (fifth row, third from the left). Discussion: See Manning 1985: 14, type 1. Similar to cat. no. 833 but less curved. See discussions on piccone and axes. Dimensions: l.: 225 mm. Present location: Pompeii Collection, CB (inv. no. 18224). Reference: probably Elia 1934: 306, fig. 22 (top right). Discussion: Probably from a hook or knife. Possibly cat. no. 1220. See discussion on sickles and hooks. Dimensions: l.: 230 mm; width: 125 mm. Description: trapezoidal blade with slightly curved edges and a cylindrical handle socket. Present location: Pompeii Collection, CB (inv. no. 18225). Reference: Pomp. archive neg. D/67983. Dimensions: h.: 420 mm. Description: part of an iron lamp-stand, with a trunk of rectangular section and a concave plate. Present location: Pompeii Collection, CB (inv. no. 18226). Discussion: No iron lamp-stands were recorded from this house. See discussion on lamp-stands. Dimensions: l.: 245 mm; max. width of blade: 50 mm; max. thickness: c.55 mm. Description: Slightly curved axehead, with a poll of rectangular section, tapering to a sharp edge. Remains of a wooden handle in the eye. Surface of the poll indicates much use. Present location: Pompeii Collection, CB (inv. no. 18227). References: probably Elia 1934: 306, fig. 22 (fifth row, fourth from the left); Conticello et al. 1990: 160–1, no. 47. Discussion: Possibly cat. no. 1032. See discussions on piccone and axes.
House I 10,1
Authors: Allison Penelope M.
Published: November 2020

In November 1926 the excavators recorded moving lapilli from in front of this house and from the entrance but no finds were reported in these areas. On 8 July 1932 they recorded removing disturbed volcanic deposit from the middle levels in the northeast area of this insula. A breach (min. h.: 2 m), now patched, in the south end of the west wall of room 2 and 1.05 m above the floor, presumably penetrated into this space and documents disturbance after ad 79. Elia observed that the room had been covered and had been divided for all or part of its length by a ‘tramezzo ligneo’ which Ling interprets as a wooden partition to screen the stairway. In the north-east corner, are three masonry steps from a stairway which Ling argued ascended along the east wall. Ling argues that the installation of this stairway would have put out of commission the recess and lararium painting (dimensions: 0.55 m × 0.4 m) behind it. The remains of a late Third Style decoration are found on the walls. The loose finds from near the north entrance of this space and from near the entrance to room 3 were predominantly door-fittings, with the possible exception of a small marble base. A small key reported in the latter location may originally have been from storage furniture but was unlikely to have been in use as no other remains of such furnishings were recorded. The only other find in this area was a glass vessel of unknown type. Elia called this room an ‘atrium’. The finds are not particularly diagnostic but, even if this area was disturbed, they hint that it had been relatively unencumbered with furnishings, probably serving predominantly as a reception and access area for the rest of the house. The breach in the south end of the west wall of this room implies that it may have been disturbed after ad 79. The walls had a simple painted decoration but this room had no evident fixtures. According to Elia it was an ‘oecus’. The limited ceramic finds (a jug, a terra sigillata dish, and a lamp) are associated with lighting and probably with the serving or storage of foodstuffs.
Alfred et al.
Authors: Hinton David A.
Published: November 2020

A distinguishing feature of the ninth century is the amount of precious metal that has survived from it. Some of this comes from hoards, for in contrast to the eighth century there are several with both coins and objects, as well as some only with coins and some only with objects. The latest coin in a hoard provides no more than the earliest possible date at which it could have been deposited, but at least that is a fixed point in one direction, and its owner was unlikely to keep a store of coins for long without occasionally taking some out or putting others in. Objects in hoards, of course, may always include some treasured heirlooms, as may furnished graves, but at least perceived similarity to works in other media is not their only dating criterion. A few objects can be dated because they have an identifiable name on them. A gold and niello ring inscribed Ethelwulf R[e]x at the bottom of the bezel associates it with King Aethelwulf, ruler of Wessex from 839 to 858 (Fig. 4.1, right). The ring was not necessarily made for him to wear himself, but for him to give to a follower as a permanent reminder of the service owed to its donor, though a Beowulf seeking a ‘generous ring-giver’ might not have thought its inscription sufficient compensation for its modest weight. Alternatively, it could have acted like a seal, to accompany a royal messenger and validate that his news or instructions came from the king; or have been used as a guarantee of a land donation and a physical reminder of the event at which the grant had been made. That might have been the reason why the name of Queen Aethelswith was added to the back of another gold ring, thus associating it with Aethelwulf’s daughter, who was queen of Mercia from 853 to 874 (Fig. 4.1, left). The inscription may have been an afterthought, needed when the ring was used for an unanticipated purpose. A third explanation is that both rings were baptismal; above Aethelwulf’s name are two birds at the Fountain of Life, and the bezel of Aethelswith’s ring has the Lamb of St John the Baptist.
Coinage and Identity in Pre-conquest Britain: 50 BC–AD 50
Authors: Williams Jonathan
Published: November 2020

This Chapter Looks at Coins made and used by peoples on the edge of the Roman world in Britain just before and just after their conquest. In it I want to ask what the evidence of the coinage, its inscriptions, designs, and findspots, can say about various kinds of collective identity in Britain in the late pre-Roman Iron Age and early Roman periods, how they were constituted, and how they changed. The reason for focusing on Britain in this period is not merely that I know more about it than anywhere else. It provides a well-attested external case for comparison with contemporary developments within the Roman empire discussed elsewhere in this volume, especially with regard to such overarching and perhaps overused narrative themes as ‘Romanization’. It also allows us to explore certain current propositions about how to exploit coins as a source for understanding ancient identities. In recent scholarship in ancient history and archaeology, particularly English-language scholarship, ‘identity’ and its kindred concepts have become a major focus of thought and debate, particularly with regard to questions of ‘ethnic identity’, or ‘ethnicity’. So intense has been the focus and so absorbing the debate, however, that certain important aspects of human identity often tend to be left out of the picture. As an instance of this, I might cite the notion of ‘identity’ underlying this very volume, which seems essentially restricted in range to those aspects of identity which we think Roman provincial coin-types are able to tell us about—ethnic, civic, and political. These are important, of course, but they aren’t by any means the whole story. There is perhaps also a general presumption that provincial coin-types take us straightforwardly into the shared symbolic world of the civic communities in whose names they were made. The possibility that the coins and their designs might rather be selectively representing symbols associated with certain groups, the sponsors or adherents of a particular local temple depicted on a city’s coins, or the wealthy participants in a festival whose prize-crowns were adopted as a civic coin-type, is not generally taken into account.