So last weekend (the 21st of September) was our Artifacts of a Life event here in the East Kingdom. There were some some amazing displays there!
The premise of the event was to create a collection of artifacts pertaining to your persona or another persona, something that they would have had during their life, grave goods, etc. I chose an 11th Century Byzantine woman, which, by the way, is rather hard. Because the majority of the artifacts we have from the Byzantine period are earlier. Here is my display:
Left to Right: Oxymel syrup, Icon of St. Michael the Archangel, Mosaic of a Black Dolphin, and a necklace of garnets and pearls based on one at the Met.
Here is a close up of the necklace. I totally failed in posting updates of me making it, but it took 2 seasons of Sons of Anarchy marathoning in the background to emulate the look. I swear my fingers still hurt looking at it.
And the original:
I tried to get a little bit of everything, namely aspects of a Byzantine life: Spiritual, Temporal, Wealth, and Food/Drink. I tied it together with that silly backstory I previously posted.
I did well, I learned a lot, and met some wonderful people. Although I did not win the category I entered, I did go home with an autocrat’s prize, that is a lovely HUGE book of Italian Renaissance paintings that is totally drool worthy. I can’t wait to do this again, I think next year my “persona” will be Roman Egyptian. 😉
While on my backpacking across Sicily, I decided to stop at an inn for the night in the city of Syracuse. The inn, which was more of a bed and breakfast by American standards, was in an old annex to an even older house. I’m not one for architecture, but if I had to guess, it was built during the baroque period, with some parts perhaps even earlier, but knowing how homes in the older parts of the world had a tendency to be rebuilt many times, it was difficult to say.
I was the only guest for the evening, and the older couple who ran the establishment put out their nightly assortment of rich Mediterranean pastries and gave me a unique beverage that tasted of honey and vinegar. Not wanting to be rude, I accepted the drink and cookies without question, and joined them at their table. Meeting locals make these journeys more enjoyable, with the exception of course, being the language barrier. My Italian was shaky at best, the same with their English, but I learned that the drink was an ancient recipe, one that would revitalize me after my long day of backpacking through the city. After some additional language struggles, I did manage to communicate the purpose of my trip.
“I’m studying to be a classical archaeologist, and I enjoy trekking through ancient regions.”
The couple became incredibly excited, and without a beat, asked, in perfect form, “Can you speak Greek?” The conversation officially began.
The couple, named Marco and Maria, claimed they had a fine collection of artifacts they wished for me to look at. They explained that Maria’s family had roots in the Byzantine Empire, and Marco’s had hailed from a town in Thrace. They had sought refuge in Italy when the Ottoman Empire sacked Constantinople in 1453, bringing only what they could carry. I was intrigued, and yet somewhat unsure if these older Sicilians were simply trying to pull a joke on me. One can never be too cautious when traveling alone. Reluctantly, I agreed to view their so-called collection.
Maria took my hand gently, and we followed her husband into a parlor, where he slid several modern cedar chests into the floor. I wasn’t entirely sure what I was expecting, but I do know that when they were opened, I nearly stumbled back. These weren’t just any artifacts; these were museum-quality heirlooms that spanned generations. Jewelry, silks, pearls, Bibles, manuscripts, this was an unbelievable haul of personal, priceless treasures that had been preserved lovingly to protect a lost cultural identity.
Maria reached into one of the chests, and removed a few items that were gingerly wrapped in stained ancient silk. She placed them out before me: A mosaic with a dolphin on it, a necklace of gold, garnets and pearls, and an Orthodox icon of the Archangel Michael. I sat and blinked. These were not the typical goods of a poor, refugee family.
“My grandmother told me as a young woman that these are the oldest.” Maria began, “From before the Crusades. Her name was Anna, and she was part of the imperial family in Constantinople.”
I knelt down to get a closer look, and she lifted the necklace for me to see. “I was told that when my ancestors fled the city after it had been destroyed by the Turks, they had to save what they could from the old homes and graves. Looting had already begun by the infidels, so they had to hurry. The necklace they were able to save from Anna’s grave. The icon was in the family crypt, and the tile was once part of a large floor in the palace apartment that Anna was said to have lived in. Dolphins are a symbol of our family, you see, and also the old symbol of Syracuse before the times of Rome. My family goes back before the times of Alexander.”
I was unsure of the provenance of anything, but I promised Maria that if she would let me take pictures, I could bring them home and do research, then send her all the information. She agreed, and then I proceeded to go through the rest of their impressive collection. I turned in for the night as my mind reeled on what it would have been like to have been the last of the Byzantines, fleeing with what bits and pieces I could from the crumbling remains of the once glistening empire.
The next morning, as I prepared to leave for my journey, Maria and Marco saw me off with a small package of leftover pastry and a cup of strong Italian coffee…and a small box with the artifacts of the life of Anna, Maria’s eleventh century ancestor. Despite my protests, she urged that I keep them as a gift. She had no daughters of her own to pass them on, and this way I could study them, and perhaps place them in a museum for the rest of future generations to enjoy. The final parting gift was a small bottle of vinegary smelling syrup. Marco told me this was called oxymel, the beverage they had served me when I arrived, it was to be diluted in water, and used just as the Romans and Byzantines did centuries ago.
I placed the goodies into my already-full backpack, but allowed myself to take on the additional burden for these people who had allowed me, a stranger, into their home and hearts for nothing more than a night.
Well, this didn’t come out as well as I had hoped. In fact, it doesn’t look anything really like an “icon” as we know it, but looking at some actual period ones from the empire, most of them weren’t as structured as the ones we see today from the Russian schools are. Which makes feel A BIT better, but meh. An artist is never happy with her work.
However, this was my first ever attempt at ANYTHING like this, my first use of painting from dry pigment, let alone using period materials, so I can’t really be upset with myself. I learned a lot, and I know that if I want to try this again, I have a good foundation of where to start. First things first: work on faces, and get finer brushes. I will include my “next time” notes with my documentation for Artifacts of a Life. Judges always appreciate learning about what you learned. It was a journey and a process.
Here’s some action shots of my last 2 days of work. I have to let it cure overnight, so I can’t put more than a few hours of work in at a time. That and my eyes start going “NO.” And I get impatient.
Egg Tempera is a solution of egg yolk and white wine. I had a heck of a time separating the egg, then puncturing the yolk, but I was able to make the solution with some pinot grigio.
Yum.
You add this to natural, dry pigments.
No lead. Promise.
Then you start laying down the sankir, or skintone layer, and eventually all of the dark under layers. This is called the roskrish. This is what I got done last night.
Today I started the highlighting process, and it was uh…interesting at first. It’s a system of layers and building, so I had to step back, think, blend, curse, re-blend, paint, curse, try again, etc. Either way, Michael is starting to get that “illuminated” look that is typical of most icons. I feel I should be finished in the next couple of days. I don’t think I will have time tomorrow as my last class gets out rather late, but Wednesday afternoon I should be able to put a good dent into it.
I’m fairly pleased with how it’s coming out so far, and can’t wait to see the finished product now.
Well, so far. I got the gilding down tonight. This makes me insanely happy, since it was probably the part I was most worried about.
St. Michael the Archangel, patron of Constantinople. Naturally.The red stuff is called bole. It’s a mixture of red clay and animal skin glue. This is the adhesive for the gold leaf.GOLD LEAFS. Okay, it’s composite gold. I was too afraid to invest in the real stuff just yet. I figure after some more practice if it looks like I can get this technique down, I will take the leap of faith to the 23kt sheets.
HOLY SHINY. LITERALLY.
I did it! I applied gold leaf for the first time ever!
There are a little gaps, but it’s all fixable using shell gold, which is using the leftover leaf and mixing it with gum arabic to make a paint.
After the pictures were taken, I burnished the leaf, and used a modern sealant that came with the leaf because, well, I’m a rookie, and I’d rather be careful while I learn. So tomorrow I will try mixing the natural pigments into egg tempera, which is going to be the next hurdle.
Our soon-to-be Queen (Yes, that would make her the Princess) has issued a challenge for Birka, an event we have in January, in which participants are to make their favorite sports team jerseys into garb. Some people will find this dumb, I find it hysterical, because I live in New England, this is a New England event not far from Boston, and therefore 99.9% of everyone is going to be Red Sox, Patriots, Bruins, or Celtics. I’m from Tampa. I do not like these Boston teams (though Foxboro is actually closer to Providence than Boston, hence “New England”.) Which means I am going to stick out like a sore thumb no matter what, and probably risk getting the snot bludgeoned out of me. Therefore, I need to do it in style.
I have a few times to choose from, obviously the Rays, Buccaneers, and Lightning, but first I need to decide which type of garb to do. I should be a good kid and stay in persona, as much as I should also adhere to the event and wear Viking. Or I could break brains. I have a brain breaking plan but it will be kept sooper secret until it’s reveal should I go that way.
Anyways, here’s a poll. Feel free to respond as to what you see fit I should do. Not that I may listen, BUT, I’m sort of at a loss. I have until January.
When many people think of the Byzantine Empire, they probably think of one of these shiny things:
I am not a religious person mundanely, but I’ve always found the artistry of Orthodox iconography to be hauntingly beautiful. Icons have been a part of the religious tradition of Greece and Russia since the Byzantine Empire, and come to find out, the techniques used to create them are pretty much spot on to what have been done in period as is used today.
So today, I spent quite a bit of money on supplies to get started on attempting to paint my first icon, using period mineral pigments and composite gold leaf (No way I can afford the real stuff right now.) I did cheat a bit with getting gesso boards instead of preparing my own with poplar wood, rabbit skin glue, and natural gesso, but I only have so much money for this, and I’d rather not spend hundreds on creating something that I may completely screw up. Even the pigments I got, although natural, are not top of the line. I will be mixing them into egg tempera, the period method of using egg yolk and white wine to create a paint medium.
I’m pretty excited about starting this project. I’m also scared to death. So this will be the next multi-post series here on ye olde Anachronistic and Impulsive.
This is a paper I wrote back in freshman year of College Mark II (2010.) It’s not in my finest academic form, and I used MLA instead of Chicago, since that’s what I knew at the time. I figured it’s length and content were perfect for a blog entry as I have been lacking on any real substantial content lately, ESPECIALLY about the Byzantine Empire. In-text citations with works cited at the end.
Stealing the Worm: Silk Production in the Byzantine Empire
Angela Costello
12/08/2010
The Shroud of Charlemagne. Manufactured in Constantinople in 814.
One of the primary achievements within the reign of Justinian I was the obtainment of silkworms from China. We will analyze how this event led to major changes within the Eastern Roman Empire’s economy and foreign policies.
The Silk Road opened to Rome in the 2nd Century as caravans that traveled from China and through Persia worked their way into the outer provinces of the Empire. A chapter of the Hou Hanshu, a historic text from China, states that Roman contact was made by sea in AD116, which initiated a series of trades from there on out. (Hill) There are also Biblical mentions of silk, although the period translation from ancient Hebrew may be referring more to a very fine linen, there is one certain mention within the Book of Revelations during the description of the Fall of Babylon, as it was translated from Greek. “And the merchants of the earth weep and mourn for her, since no one buys their cargo any more … fine linen, purple, silk and scarlet”. (Revelation 18:12)So it is believed at the time the book was finalized, that the fabric was commonly known.
The luxuriousness of the fabric and the wealth that it embodied allowed the Empire at a time to use silk as a monetary standard for a short period of time. Silk was used as a way to determine the value of currency in the outer provinces, much like silver was used in the core of Rome. This didn’t seem to have lasted very long, however, as most records show that the silver standard took precedence for the majority of the period. (“Money” 701)
China was the sole manufacturer of silk for thousands of years, and it wasn’t until the Emperor Justinian I in 552 obtained the first silkworm eggs. Prior to that, the Romans had to trade through their strongest enemy to the East, Sassanid Persia. Trade with Persia was costly, strenuous, and often dangerous, therefore it was evident a solution was needed.
There was a high demand for silk in the Mediterranean during the reign of Justinian, both within Constantinople and into the outreaches at the highest extent of the Byzantine Empire. It was the prized fabric of the notably well-dressed Imperial court and an overall hot commodity in the area. Interaction with Persia needed to be brought to a minimum, and Procopius wrote of a solution.
The legend tells of the Emperor sending monks as emissaries to China, and smuggling back the worms in stalks of bamboo. The eggs did hatch on the journey back, but within the care of the monks they did arrive safely. With them also came several Chinese slaves, educated in the ways of sericulture, or the production of silk, and the humble beginnings of the silk industry in Constantinople began. (Procopius 229)
Although silk production began under the reign of Justinian I and Irene of Athens, it didn’t particularly pick up until several centuries later. It was necessary to breed the worms to have a significant production of the thread, so to do this would take a considerable amount of time. Thanks to the destruction of the Western Empire in the century prior, Constantinople had established itself as the economic superpower for nearly all of Europe and especially the Levantine Mediterranean realms. (Schoeser 27) So despite the work needed to establish a strong foothold on sericulture, the Romans found themselves in a strong opportunity.
Authors such as Procopius and Theophanes attempted to give a look as if the production of silk happened “overnight” in Byzantium, but the truth is that this just isn’t the case. Although Procopius’ stunning story of the theft of the worms from China is intriguing, it was probably nothing more than contemporary propaganda. The earliest known documented Byzantine silkworms were actually located in fifth-century Byzantine-controlled Syria. ( Muthesius 150)
Initially, silk production was limited to just the Imperial Palace, with private spinners and weavers put to work to create the splendid garments for the emperor, empress, and entourage of the court of Byzantium, much like the private workshops they had for jewelers and perfume makers. Eventually commerce spread outward to the people of Constantinople and the Empire as a whole, and an overall monopoly on silk goods produced by the former Imperial workshops had spread as far as Francia in the west, but that wasn’t until the 11th and 12th centuries once the Empire had established a solid industry.
The most notable factor of silk produced within the Eastern Roman Empire was the intricacy of the designs on the finished woven textiles. In Constantinople, improvements and innovations to the weaving industry were made to accommodate the desire for more elaborate designs. These were known as pattern harnesses, which required a considerable amount of skill to operate. As written by St. Theodoret of Cyrus, the skilled laborers were women:
“…Women take it in hand and weave the fine yarns. First they place the warp like strings in order on the looms and pass the weft through them, separating the threads with the combs, loosening some of the broken lines and tightening others; then they thrust and compress the weft with the instruments made for this purpose and in that way complete the web…Notice how on all kids of living things are embroidered, the forms of men, hunters, worshipers, and the images of trees and countless other objects.” (Theodoret 55)
Notable weaving patterns in early Byzantine textiles that still exist are the tabby, damask, twill, lampas, and tapestry weaves. (Muthesius 153) It seemed an entirely new sub-industry within the Empire was created to support this new weaving venture.
Despite the silk industrial revolution that was occurring in Constantinople, trade for raw and finished silk goods from China was still very prominent for several centuries. The Empire continued to import raw silk thread and yarn from the East as to support their weaving industry, and to get there; it had to go through the Persian Empire. Each stage of the journey from China, either by land or sea, dyes and designs added value and increased its cost. The uneasy relations that Byzantium had with Persia often made the trade difficult and dangerous, so the importation of silk and other eastern goods were subject to strict government regulations on both sides. (Feltham 5) Prior to Persian control, the majority of silk going into Greek and Roman provinces was done by nomadic tribes coming from the steppes of Central Asia, who traded for goods such as horses and furs.
An important question is raised in whom exactly, were the monks that Procopius mentioned. Sources point to them being Sogdian, which were a nomadic tribe that brought in silk from China, or even Persians. But why would either culture attempt to undermine their control of the trade?
In 529, Justinian himself passed a law within his codex that stated that Romans and Persians alike were to follow strict rules on when and where trade could take place “in order to prevent the secrets of either kingdom from being disclosed”. This limited trade between the Empires to take place at only three cities: Nisibus, Callinicum, and Artaxata, and that all outside trade would be confiscated. It goes on to list additional fees associated with violation of the law. (Justinian I LXIII, 4)
If it were in fact Persians that were the monks that Procopius mentioned, then they would be in direct violation of this law, which leads that hypothesis to be unlikely. At the time, other cultures were coming into the game plan as far as trade goes, including the Turks, whom would prove to be the ultimate downfall of the Roman Empire less than a millennium in the future, so it is still very unclear as to the origins of Procopius’ tale.
The Vikings were well-known trades people during this time period, and had a considerable amount of interaction with Eastern Rome. There have been numerous finds in Viking archaeological sites that demonstrate the wide contact they had with the continent. Silk from Byzantium is commonly found among other imported and domestic items of the Norse people. (Christensen) These examples were most likely brought back by the Varangian guards who were working under the imperial banner, and the extensive trade routes the Vikings set up from Constantinople to the Baltic.
Despite the demand for the silk goods to be purchased by foreign cultures, the Empire strictly regulated how much could be sold. It was written within the Russian Primary Chronicle, “When the Russes enter the city, they shall not have the right to buy silk above the value of fifty bezants…” (Muthesius 165) In edition to the limit on how much one could purchase, there were also tariffs placed in effect, which regulated the flow of illegal trading. This insured the Empire’s foothold in the silk trade, and helped regulate the economic impact the industry would eventually have on the growing market, which would boom during the prime of Byzantium in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.
The interaction with Persia would not end immediately. Eastern Rome had to continue dealing with their menacing middleman while their industry was growing, and would be doing so until the Ottoman Empire came into play several centuries after the establishment of silk cultivation.
For Justinian, however, the ancestors of the Ottomans would be his loophole to bypass the Persians. The Turks had no love for the Sassanids, and during periods of hostility in which the silk trade between the Empires was suspended, Byzantium attempted to make direct contact with China. This brought them into an agreement with the Turks, whom Justinian’s successor, Justin II, drafted a treaty with, and they supported the Empire against Persia. (Ostrogorski 74) Similar arrangements were made with Ethiopia for imports from India by sea, but they could simply not break the hold that Persia had on the Indian Ocean.
Although the Eastern Roman Empire succeeded in becoming one of the foremost silk manufacturers of the Middle Ages, the path there began with a legend of stolen silkworms. This event aiding the shaping of a region that would be not only known for its beautiful textiles, but also for its strength in the Empire’s policies of trade.
Justinian I, “Codex Justinianus (529): Title LXIII. Concerning Commerce and Merchants.” The Civil Law. S.P. Scott A.M.. Cincinnati: The Central Trust Company, Digital.
Anyways, the boozes did well at Great Northeastern War. My conditum paradoxum and rose-lavender cordial were paneled and both scored relatively well for my first foray into the guild scene. My mead and cordial both one best in their division. There was only one cordial, but…hey, there were 8 meads. That counts for something.
Nobody showed up to my Roman garb class except for my friend Elinor Strangewayes (see also: woman who makes Roman phallus beads,) but my Varangian Guard class had a good group, even though I didn’t prep a good lecture, we sat there and talked for an hour and I spewed what I could from the top of my head. They loved the extensive biblio I put onto my handout. I think I will be posting that in the future.
The Byzantine garb page is almost finished, I hope to get that up in a day or so. I basically copy-pasta’d my handout, but I’ll also be adding more stuff. Since my persona is 11th Century, I need to focus on finding more information about that more rather than the generic “Throw clavii on a tunica and call it Byzantine” look. At least there’s lots of fun vocabulary to learn, right? @_@
I am also going to be playing with some Norman garb for upcoming events this fall and winter. The boyfriend is Norman, and technically so is half of my persona, so I get to wear Western European garb for the first time. Ever. I don’t count my Viking, that’s Northern. 😛
You heard me. I am interrupting this blog to talk about dangly bits. Appendages. Wee-wees, dangit! It’s perfectly okay, you see, because this is perfectly ROMAN.
A lot of information is surfacing lately on the amazing shiny Roman phallus jewelry, and I’m getting pinged on Facebook and email about it often, and I have been asked quite a bit about it. Well, here you go.
Everything you ever wanted to know about the Phallus in Roman culture!*
*but were afraid to ask! (Abridged. There really is a ton of stuff.)
Well, first, I had to gauge my approach to this post. I mean we’re talking about PENISES here. Yes, I said it, penis. If that offends you, well, you may need to re-think reading this post, because it’s only going to get better. Anyways, I figured, well, we’re talking about something seriously historical, I could be dry and historical but…no. It’s hard enough for anyone in this day and age to take private bits seriously, and frankly, they didn’t take them seriously in Ancient Rome either. There is more penis graffiti in Pompeii than in a boy’s middle school bathroom, heck, even the first episode of HBO’s Rome shows penis graffiti. And if the graffiti wasn’t enough, well, there’s always this guy:
Well, that should have culled the prudes out of here. Hello, filthy minded history types! Welcome to Ancient Rome. Where pornography was on every street corner! If the first thing out of your mouth at this point is, “Oh God, think of the children!” Please leave now. If the first thought in your mind while looking at the above fresco is, “Why is Mercury exhibiting the…traits…of Priapus?” Then you’re in the right place. Let’s provide a bit of a background.
Priapus is a minor Greco-Roman god of fertility, as if you couldn’t guess. He also had something to do with fruits and livestock (twigs and berries?) This above fresco is from Pompeii, and well as this fella:
Ladies…
Now, there is a great deal going on here symbolically. The first I notice is the Phrygian cap on Priapus’ noggin. The best analysis I can give while I sit here sipping tea and giggling at pornographic frescoes is that this particular painting is from the House of the Vettii: two freedmen who made themselves a fortune in the merchant business, which I believe could have been imports. Note I said “freedmen.” These brothers were former slaves. In Rome, slavery was not a life sentence, in fact, slaves were often paid, and were able to buy their freedom at a certain age. Most were not kept over the age of 30. Pompeii was a resort town, sort of the Hamptons of its time, and these homes were worth quite a bit. My own conjecture about this cap is that it symbolizes the freedom of the Vettii, as the Phrygian cap was often presented to slaves upon their emancipation. But still…the penis, or the fact that the previous image is of Mercury. Let’s see what we can find.
Returning to Priapus, I hit the Wikipedia entry first for some fast facts. They’re also a good place to start for secondary sources. Skimming the article already provides a great deal of information, including his appearances in popular myths and theatrical performances, and role as a god. Toward the bottom though, is where I found the gold: Patron god of merchant sailing. Well, that would explain why the Vettii liked him so much. Right? Maybe? OMG wang?
There’s much more than meets the eye here, I think. What does a rustic lesser god with a Viagra addiction have to do with merchant sailing?
The Phallus and Navigation
In the International Journal of Nautical Archaeology September 2002 issue, there is an article entitled, “A terracotta phallus from Pisa Ship E: more evidence for the Priapus deity as protector of Greek and Roman navigators” by Harry R. Nielson III. Nielson, a professor at Florida State University, writes that the phallus is associated with “possession and territorial demarcation” in many cultures. This attributes to Priapus’ as a navigational deity. This is not the first instance in which phallic figures have been found aboard ships.
Returning to a primary source, the Satyricon by Petronius also bears mention to Priapus being present at a shipwreck. Although the Satyricon is a work of prose fiction and a comedy in which the instance of the shipwreck appears to be in parody of epic poetry, the fact that this was included in the body of work notes the connection of this deity to navigation by the Romans. There seems to be no shortage of archaeological evidence suggesting that vessels and ports displayed a significant amount of phallic imagery, including statues and frescoes of Priapus. I cannot seem to locate any other particular source without sitting and doing hard research through article databases and libraries, and since this is summer vacation and most academic libraries are closed or only open part-time, getting in to do the research I need just isn’t available. I wouldn’t typically rely on one secondary source for information, but the idea of the penis being regarded as a territorial symbol makes perfect sense from an anthropological standpoint, or really to any women who has ever dated jocks.
Another hypothesis that immediately comes to mind (again, this is my brain working, not actual research) is the pointing of a compass. Did the Ancient Romans have a compass? Unfortunately not, but they were formidable sailors with the ability to chart sea routes using the stars and landmarks. Any sort of a “heading” could be looked upon as an erect phallus. I have now completely ruined navigation for everyone with a dirty mind. The next time you’re on an airplane or a boat, and someone says, “heading,” you will think of some hairy old god with a huge schlong. You’re welcome.
Apparently it was common in Rome to have signs of Priapus with a message as he…pointed…in the direction of a landmark. In the case of this excerpt from the Priapeia, which is a collection of such sign verbiage, he points out a fountain:
‘Falce minax et parte tui maiore, Priape, ad fontem, quaeso, dic mihi qua sit iter.’
Priapus, terrific with thy sickle and thy greater part, tell me, prithee, which is the way to the fountain?
When in Rome, if you get lost, ask the guy with the huge erection.
Returning to the first image of Priapus sharing traits with Hermes/Mercury (winged feet and a caduceus staff) this immediately perplexed me, but I figure it had to do with a particular myth or characteristic of Mercury that I possible have overlooked in my studies. Priapus is almost always attributed to Dionysus/Bacchus: The god of wine and partying. Makes sense, right? Some believed he was the son of Dionysus and Aphrodite/Venus, so adding sex into the mix of booze and rock-n-roll would of course create the ultimate phallus god. But Mercury? People often overlook Mercury as being a phallic god, because he’s always depicted as the messenger. This is probably due to Victorian scholars hiding anything that has to do with sex. In fact, Hermes, the Greek counterpart, is often depicted with a phallus come to find out, and was the patron god of fertility during the archaic period of Greece. Eventually, Priapus broke off from this as the pantheon continued to grow. And despite similarities between the Greek and Roman pantheon, worship was very different. It was like a bad game of telephone, really. So a Roman depiction of Priapus with traits of Mercury or vice versa would make a lot of sense. Mercury also guarded travelers and merchants, so there’s a great deal of overlap, here. The image on the wall may not be Priapus at all, it could simply be a very happy Mercury painted in the home of the Vettii Brothers to protect their sea-going merchant business. Fair enough.
Jewelry
Phallic imagery evidently played a huge part in navigation and direction, as well as the protection of travelers, which is probably why these little suckers were all the rage in the First Century:
That is, indeed, a golden cock n’ balls, folks.
This has been getting a lot of press as of late because the museum in possession of this artifact is beginning to sell replicas, and I want one. For strictly Roman re-creation and re-enactment purposes only. I swear. (I also have a couple of medieval phallus replicas from Billy and Charlie at Pennsic, but I assure you that it wasn’t viewed as a good luck charm or a piece of navigational equipment in the Middle Ages. What can I say, I collect…charms. OH COME ON THEY ARE FUNNY!)
This piece is drawing a lot of attention, and it should, I mean, it’s pretty remarkably detailed and made of gold, and I’ve seen more than one ornamental dong in my day. No, really, these were REALLY COMMON among the Roman people, so common, that you can buy actual artifacts on eBay where I stumbled upon these remarkable doo-dads for the first time back when I was a wee, innocent Anna. If they are plentiful to sell on eBay for Wal-Mart artifact prices, then they were literally all over the place. But why? To our prude modern society the idea of wearing something like that is totally obscene. In fact, it could probably land someone in jail here in the states if someone’s very conservative grandmother mistook it for a cross and got the shock of her life. In fact, I would BANK on it, which is why I’m surprised they are selling replicas. Apparently the Jolly Old Mother Country isn’t as staunch as their screwy offspring.
Either way, you’re looking as something that was a common as wearing a wrist watch, er…carrying a smartphone is today. This type of amulet is called a fascinus, and was essentially the embodiment of the divine phallus. You can easily see the word “fascinate” in there, only in Latin, it’s pronounced quite differently (Fahs-kee-noos.) Etymologically, to be “fascinated” means that you were put under a spell. This makes sense as it was considered a protective amulet. Much like the blue glass “evil eye” amulets you see today from the Mediterranean (which was also popular during Antiquity!) the phallus warded off evil. I certainly like this wind chime (tintinabulum, a wonderful Latin onomatopoeia!)
Now THIS is a conversation piece!
The majority of the finds of jewelry seem to be along the frontiers and roads of the Roman Empire, leading me to believe that it was something very popular with the legions. I’m sure if you ask any manly man today if they would wear a bronze penis around their neck, their answers could be mixed, but as we already determined, to the Romans, the phallus wasn’t just about impressing your friends. It was a charm for travel and navigation, and maybe fertility and general good luck. Knowing this, it would make perfect sense for Roman soldiers to wear one. It would protect the wearer and keep them headed in the right direction, since there were no compasses, only landmarks, the stars, and apparently horny gods.
But the buck doesn’t stop there, oh no, they gave these dangly bits to children. Yes, you read that correctly, phallus amulets were given to children after birth as a way to ward off evil spirits, and ensure they would grow to be strong and virile. I’m not sure if women got the same amulet, but I have yet to find a vagina amulet as a counterpoint. (If you find one, OMG show me!) Rome was a pretty chauvinistic society, not as much as the Greeks who treated their women like absolute dirt, the Romans just treated them as 2nd class citizens, so it’s doubtful that women would have been given the same treatment.
Public Religion
The more I dig, the more I find more really interesting stuff. The Vestal Virgins (cue Lighter Shade of Pale, it gets in my head every time.) tended the cult of the Phallus. Evidently, the phallus was a symbol of the safety of the state. By placing a phallus in the hearth, it embodied masculine power hidden within a female duty. Feminists will read this and cry. There were also public festivals that celebrated a lesser god known as Liber, who was a predecessor to the imported Dionysus, in which the phallus was represented.
Augustine of Hippo writes of this in his City of God, as described by the now-lost works of Varro:
Varro says that certain rites of Liber were celebrated in Italy which were of such unrestrained wickedness that the shameful parts of the male were worshipped at crossroads in his honour. … For, during the days of the festival of Liber, this obscene member, placed on a little trolley, was first exhibited with great honour at the crossroads in the countryside, and then conveyed into the city itself. … In this way, it seems, the god Liber was to be propitiated, in order to secure the growth of seeds and to repel enchantment (fascinatio) from the fields.
I cringe at this as a historian, mostly because Augustine himself was quite a manwhore (yes, that is a technical term) before he “found God.” So this point of view seems extremely hypocritical to me that he would cast this behavior as being so wicked. With the spread of Christianity came the demise of the cult of the phallus, and most information was lost, or covered up, by angry Christian philosophers such as Augustine. Could you imagine if Thomas Aquinas got his hands on this information? UGH! I am not insinuating any hate on the Christian faith, I am simply stating that they are mostly responsible for the prude ways of modern society. Contrary to popular belief, Christianity is what saved a great deal of Roman manuscripts by allowing them to be copied throughout the ages. Their moral views were just quite different than than of the pagan Romans, which is probably why these fun little novelties did not survive into the Byzantine Empire. In fact, it appears that the Byzantines may have covered up male genitalia in earlier works of art.
I could probably spend days of research on this and write a significant paper. I appear to really just be scratching the surface, but I wanted to give a cursory look on the commonality of the phallus pendant. So there you have it. Be it fertility, luck, navigation, direction, protection of merchants and babies, the phallus in Ancient Rome was hardly pornographic, it was a part of life. Like I’ve had to tell folks before when it comes to studying some of the finer…nuances of ancient culture is that you need to throw modern views of sexuality to the wind. They did not think like us, they did not act like us. They had a completely open view of sexuality that most people in modern society cannot comprehend, so the image of a phallus was not obscene, it was simply “there.” It was part of their culture and their day-to-day lives. That didn’t stop them from making plenty of sick jokes, much like we do today.
“Your nose is so long, and your dick is so big that you can smell it when you get an erection.” – Martial
Bibliography
Nielson III, Harry R. “A terracotta phallus from Pisa Ship E: more evidence for the Priapus deity as protector of Greek and Roman navigators,” The International Journal of Nautical Archaeology, Vol. 31, Issue 1. Pages 248-253
Csabo, Eric. “Riding the Phallus for Dionysus: Iconology, Ritual, and Gender-Role De/Construction,” Phoenix , Vol. 51, No. 3/4 (Autumn – Winter, 1997), pp. 253-295
Anna's New Rome 
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