gems, archaeology, archaeogemology, Africa, Egypt, ancient jewelry

Of all the range of archaeological studies, that of jewelry holds a special place for both its content and the techniques of study it requires. Closest perhaps is the study of gem engraving, which is in some respects a branch of jewelry, but engraved gems offer subjects which can be treated as any other corpus of images, and they may depend less on the value of the materials used. In jewelry, design is everything, combined necessarily with the intrinsic value of the materials. Iconography is of only occasional importance, but perhaps too easily neglected. This essay reviews in a summary way, and from the point of view of an archaeologist who is no specialist in jewelry studies, some aspects of the subject which seem to relate it most closely to other areas of classical archaeology. Jewelry is luxury, but unlike real luxury, it is not completely useless, since it can serve the purpose of displaying status and wealth. These were presumably still its functions when used in antiquity for dedication to the gods or to the dead, or when it served as a prize or was honorific, as is the case with wreaths. Indeed, the question might legitimately be asked whether in antiquity it ever served any other purposes; whether it was much enjoyed privately, per se, for quality and beauty. In the Greek period I doubt whether it was often collected for its own sake, but it could be hoarded or hidden away, much as it is today in bank vaults. It would then have been treated as was much silver plate, simply as bullion, but its value went far beyond its weight, a point to which I shall return. Alcibiades’ mother Deinomache was said to have owned a set of jewelry worth 50 minae (5,000 drachmae); I doubt whether she could have worn it all at once. Eupolis mocks even the poorer dandies of Cyrene who owned seals, sphragides, worth 10 minae, more than they were likely to be able comfortably to wear on necklaces and fingers; but it would be silly to take such a remark from a comic poet at all seriously. The chorus in Aristophanes’ Lysistrata (1190–94) say that they make their gold jewelry available whenever any neighbor’s daughter does duty as kanephoros, basket-carrier in a procession. Ordinary Greeks were practical; they made their jewelry work for them. In every period and place these functions must be expected to be of considerable importance in the production and design of jewelry, and the archaeologist-historian must try to identify and explain them. Yet it is for quality and what we take for beauty that it has attracted the attention of most scholars and all collectors. I vividly remember attending a lecture in Cyprus given by Professor Andronikos soon after the discovery of the tomb of Philip II. The strong, almost emotional response of the whole audience to the sheer quality and beauty of the jewelry was almost physical; it could move them to tears. It was subjective, yet I doubt whether any Western audience at any period or place would have reacted much differently. This is in part a tribute to the pervasive effect of classical art in Western culture, but it also mitigates to a large extent the sheer subjectivity of such a response. Can we free ourselves of this response in our studies; do we need to free ourselves of it?