Showing posts with label oil-lamps. Show all posts
Showing posts with label oil-lamps. Show all posts

Thursday, July 22, 2021

Caroline Lawrence Membercast Objects

In July 2021 I was interviewed by fellow children's author Iszi Lawrence (left) for the British Museum Membercast. We talked about artefacts in the British Museum that have inspired my writing. For anyone who wants to know more, here are some of the objects we discussed. Click the photos for links to the objects. 

1. Rock crystal die. Find it in the Greek and Roman Life room (room 69) display case 9. This beautiful little object was a vital clue to the identity of a dog-killer in my first book, The Thieves of Ostia.



2. Wax-tablet and writing things. Greek and Roman Life room (room 69). I try to make some artefacts a matter of life and death, like a wax-tablet for Lupus, a character from my Roman Mysteries series of books. Lupus is mute and illiterate but as he learns to read and write his wax tablet becomes a vital means of communication. My replica wax tablet smells like honey because of the beeswax on it. 





3. Why would you put a scary actor’s mask on a baby feeder? I believe the answer is that it is apotropaic (turns away evil). A face like this, possibly called a mormolukeion, keeps malicious spirits from turning the milk sour. This becomes an object of life or death importance in my book Escape from Rome. Find it in the room next to the Greek and Roman life room, in room 70 and display case 14.




4. Hydria. This beautiful Greek jar for carrying water is one of literally thousands of Greek, Roman and Etruscan vases in the British Museum. Women and slave-girls would take a pot like this to the fountain and bring it back on their heads, full of water. Other Greek vases range from tiny perfume bottles to big mixing bowls for wine. The decoration on them gives us glimpses into daily life, customs and beliefs. For a scene where kids hide in a fountain, check out my book Adventure in Athens



5. Oil-lamps are like snapshots of the ancient world… Many of them also have apotropaic images on them, and the oil-lamps themselves – lights in the darkness – keep away evil. One of my favourite oil-lamps is in the Greek and Roman Life room (room 69) and shows what racing chariots really looked like. I incorporated that knowledge into Roman Mystery 12, The Charioteer from Delphi. 




6. This superb statuette of the ancient Greek philosopher Socrates informed my most recent historical thriller, The Time Travel Diaries, Adventure in Athens. Note that he is only wearing a cloak, probably light linen for those hot Athenian summers. Find him downstairs in Room 22 and display case 6. 



7. Another figurine, a little ivory hunchback from Alexandria, is inspiring my current work in progress, a retelling of Aesop’s Fables. (According to some ancient sources, Aesop was a hideously ugly hunchback.) Note that he is wearing nothing at all. You can find him near the Socrates figurine just mentioned in display case 6 in room 22. 


Thanks to Iszi Lawrence for letting me gush about some of my favourite objects and thanks to the British Museum for inspiring my writing. Find out more about my books at carolinelawrence.com. Find out more about Iszi's books at iszi.com.

P.S. All the photos on this post are copyright of the British Museum. 

Friday, October 02, 2009

Odysseus in Portus?

There is great excitement among Classicists and archaeologists about the University of Southampton's find of what may or may not be a luxury mini-amphitheatre in Portus, the imperial harbour fourteen miles west of Rome. I've just been looking at the pictures on the BBC photo gallery and saw this wonderful head of a bearded man (left) wearing what might be a pileus. The pileus was a felt skullcap, rounded or pointed. It could be the hat of a freedman, but also of a craftsman.

The bearded head from Portus made me think of a marvellous collection of oil-lamps I saw in Lipari (one of the Aeolian Islands in Sicily) in May. One of the oil-lamps depicts a bearded man wearing a pileus. His hammer and tongs show he is a blacksmith. His heroic nudity hints that he might be Vulcan, god of fire and the forge (and fish), and husband of Venus. I wonder if the bearded head from Portus could be Vulcan? According to Smith's Dictionary, Vulcan (AKA Hephaistos) was one of the few mythological figures who wore a felt skullcap. Also, Vulcan had a strong presence in Ostia, a few miles south of Portus.

But another famous character from Greek and Roman mythology often shown in a skullcap is Odysseus. The bearded head from Portus is very similar to the head of the Odysseus from Sperlonga , where the emperor Tiberius had a monumental sculpture of Odysseus blinding the cyclops in a grotto of his summer retreat. (The name Sperlonga comes from Latin speluncae i.e. "grottoes"). (below: bearded head from Portus & Odysseus from Sperlonga)


The monumental sculptural group of Odysseus blinding the Cyclops Polyphemus was a popular one. The emperor Domitian had a similar sculpture in a grotto of his imperial retreat on Lake Albano, fourteen miles southeast of Rome. I saw fragments of it last April when I toured the ruins of Domitian's Alban Citadel at the Pope's summer retreat in Castelgandolfo. Sadly, Polyphemus is all that survives of Domitian's monumental group. (below)


Other figures from Greek mythology who wore the felt skullcap were Charon the ferryman and Daedalus the craftsman and father of Icarus.

You can read all the reports about the 'luxurious mini-amphitheatre' at Portus on the official Portus Project site, but do also read Mary Beard's caveat!

[The 17+ books in the Roman Mysteries series are perfect for children aged 9+, especially those studying Romans as a topic in Key Stage 2. There are DVDs of some of the books as well as an interactive game. Teachers, check out the SCHOOLS page.]

Friday, July 03, 2009

Oil Lamp Clues

The detective and the historian have similar jobs.

The detective has to reconstruct the events of a crime.
The historian has to reconstruct the events of the past.

Both use concrete objects as clues.
Both read statements taken by eyewitnesses.

In the case of the historian, or historical novelist, we call these 'primary sources'. My favourite witnesses are Martial, Suetonius, Pliny the Elder and his nephew Pliny the Younger, just to name a few. They are my 'informants'.

This is one of the reasons historical detective stories are so satisfying to write and to read. The two genres go beautifully together.

Researching my mystery stories set in imperial Rome, The Roman Mysteries, I love Nancy-Drewing the halls of museums for information about how ancient Greeks and Romans really lived. I especially love any artefact that gives me a glimpse into the mind of a first century Roman. For this reason I usually move quickly past the gold wreaths and silver treasure troves and go to the humblest display cases, those showing objects of every day life.

For example, in the British Museum, Room 69 has wonderful displays of Greek and Roman life. The stylus and wax tablets and inkpots of school children; dice, knucklebones, marbles and board markers for games of strategy and gambling; little votive statues offered at a shrine; a baby’s ceramic potty or feeder cup; the cook’s strainer or bun pan; the engineer’s plumbline and papyrus 'blueprint'.

A beautiful rock crystal dice in the games display case of Room 69 became a vital clue to the identity of Ostia's dog-killer in The Thieves of Ostia. The naughty apotropaic pendants in The Colossus of Rhodes can be seen in the display case about superstition in the same room.

In the Museum of London, You can see carbonized seeds of the flowers they planted and food they ate in Londinium. There are also oyster shells, fish sauce bottles, hair-pins, coins, brooches and templates for the cobbler to make sandals. They have naughty apotropaic amulets, too.

But in all museums, I particularly linger at the oil-lamp collection. These were not the cheapest lighting in Roman houses, those were candles made of tallow (animal fat). But oil lamps were cheap, cheerful and extremely popular. Made of clay in moulds, they were produced en masse. The variety and type of designs on them tells us a lot about the Romans, and especially what they liked: which types of entertainment, which gods and goddesses, which birds and animals. Some of the oil lamps are funny or rude. They show drunken Cupids, or maenads and satyrs. Some are X-rated! Others are perfectly innocent.

They also tell us details about Roman life. An oil-lamp with a quadriga from the British museum reminds us that racing chariots were small and light, unlike heavy wooden ceremonial chariots. (Ben Hur, take note!) Just as a modern football supporter might buy a souvenir mug after the match, in ancient Rome you might take home an oil lamp from the Circus Maximus, daubed with the colour of your favourite team: the Reds, the Greens, the Blues or the Whites.

A delightful oil lamp in the Museum of London is shaped like a foot with a sandal. I love the detail, especially the hobnails, faithfully reproduced on the bottom.

At one time you could buy reproductions of this sandal oil lamp in the museum shop. I bought one a few years ago and one day I decided to try it out. I filled it with olive oil and put a piece of string in the 'toe nozzle', to act as a wick. I was sceptical. Surely a piece of string would burn up in a few seconds? But it didn't. It burned for hours and when the flame began to diminish I just poured olive oil in the 'ankle hole' and it burned brightly again.

I turned out all the lights in my riverside flat and crept around, holding the oil lamp and pretending I was Flavia looking for clues. I observed that the light was quite flickery and spooky, and that the lamp gave off a fair amount of black smoke. Over time, this smoke would have discoloured Roman ceilings and walls. I also noticed that my hand got a bit greasy. Clay oil lamps are porous and 'sweat' oil, unlike their more expensive bronze counterparts. Also, oil can dribble out of the nozzle if it's full.

This gave me an idea. Maybe Flavia could find a greasy handprint on a wall at the scene of a crime. She would deduce from this clue that the crime had been committed at night, because the perpetrator had been holding an oil lamp. Furthermore, the perp must have been poor, or he'd have taken a bronze oil lamp that didn't sweat oil... I used this idea in my volume of Roman Mystery Mini-Mysteries, for 'The Case of the Citruswood Table'.

Recently, I came across the most delightful collection of oil-lamps I have ever seen, in the most unexpected place. My husband Richard and I were exploring the volcanic Aeolian Islands, just north of Sicily. The largest of the 'seven sisters' is an island called Lipari. The second floor of the Archaeology Museum there has at least a hundred Roman oil lamps, all beautifully displayed.

Here are some of my favourite oil lamps from the Archaeological Museum of Lipari:

Several of the oil lamps show gladiators, some defeated and some victorious. (This was obviously a popular subject.) Defeated gladiators kneel on one knee and lift the forefinger of their left hand to beg for mercy. Victorious gladiators hold up their shields and brandish their swords.

Gods and goddesses are popular, too. One delightful lamp shows Venus with her hair down. The person who owned it might have worshipped the goddess of love. Or an oil lamp with a depiction of Venus bathing might simply have been a romantic hint to his girlfriend.

One charming oil lamp shows a peacock. The peacock was Juno's special bird, so it might belong to someone who worshipped her. Or it might just stand for beauty. Another oil lamp with a picture of a blacksmith (below) might be Vulcan, god of the forge.

Love is a favourite subject for oil lamps. This is fitting. After all, lamps were mainly used after dark. A tipsy Cupid helps his even tipsier friend home after an evening of banqueting. (at the top of this post) Or two Cupids try to bag a hare. Pliny the Elder tells us that ignorant people believed eating hare made you more beautiful! A girl might have given her boyfriend or husband an oil lamp with cupids on it. And he might have given her a lamp with an erotic scene on it. There were many of these, showing a men and women in various positions reminiscent of the most notorious frescoes from Pompeii.

A theatre-goer, poet or playwright might have a theatrical mask on his oil lamp. We often forget that the theatre - tragedy, comedy, pantomime and mime - was as popular as the race-track or the arena. Ancient Romans might also have collected oil lamps that showed their profession. The blacksmith on this lamp (right) holds tongs in his right hand and a hammer in his left. Most craftsmen and artisans wore sleeveless tunics. He has forgotten his. His 'heroic nudity' may indicate that he is Vulcan, god of the forge. A sailor might have a ship on his. Or if you had an ancestor who fought in a famous naval battle, your favourite lamp might be one with a warship on it.

Mythical creatures appear frequently on oil lamps: nereids, sea-horses, tritons etc. Real but exotic animals like a camel (left) or a hyena (below right) are also popular. These might have reminded the owner of a day at the arena, where beast fights made up the morning events. Such oil lamps show us that camels and hyenas were known in first century Rome.

Birds were popular. The dove and the pomegranate (below) both speak of love. We have seen Juno's peacock. You might give an oil lamp with an owl on it to a wise daughter, or a hawk on a branch to your son. A sparrow plucking a berry may have hinted at your love for someone.

Or it may have been an innocent gift for a nature-lover. You find deer and horses on oil lamps, too, especially when they are doing something exciting, like racing or eluding the hunter.

Oil lamps are the ancient equivalent of modern coffee mugs and tee-shirts; they provide us with clues about what the ancient Romans liked and what made them laugh. If these delightful artefacts are anything to go by, the ancient Romans liked sports, love, animals and stories. Just like us.

There is a Latin proverb that says Fallaci nimium ne crede lucernae: don't trust too much in deceptive lamps.

But the humble oil-lamp can throw a different kind of light on the ancient world.


[The 17+ books in the Roman Mysteries series are perfect for children aged 9+, especially those studying Romans, Greeks or Egyptians as a topic in Key Stage 2 and 3. The new Roman Quests series, set in Roman Britain, launched in May 2016 with book one: Escape from Rome are also perfect for use in classrooms.]