Tag Archives: Italy

Lovesick in Pompeii

In honor of the patron saint of romances, St. Valentine,   whose day rapidly approaches,  I thought I’d bring you something very different today–the expressions of love carved upon the walls of Pompeii some 2000 years ago.   This proved to be a little trickier than you might expect at first blush,  for many of the Pompeiian inscriptions are wonderfully raunchy.  The Romans really loved sex and weren’t at all bashful about publicizing their talents in the sack.    So  I had to be a little  selective.

First a word about where I found these wonderful translations. The Italian archaeologist and epigrapher Antonio Varone,  who works in an office building tucked away on the grounds of  Pompeii,  has written a superb book on the inscriptions:  Erotica Pompeiana:  Love Inscriptions on the Walls of Pompeii.   While nearly everyone who visits the ancient resort town notices all kinds of  graffiti scratched on the stone of villas and public buildings, very few possess sufficient knowledge of the  Latin language or Roman culture  to decipher the inscriptions.  Thank you Antonio Varone for opening our eyes.

Ok,  bring on the inscriptions.  First the lovesick:

“Vibius Restitutus slept here alone,  longing for his Urbana.”

“Girl,  you look lovely to Ceius and many others.”

Next, the tender:

“So may you forever flourish, Sabina; may you acquire beauty and stay a girl for a long time.”

The jealous:

Who is it that spends the night with you in happy sleep?  Would that it were me.  I would be many times happier.

The  wry:

“Warmest regards from Puddle to her Fishlet.”

The angry:

“Virgula to her Tertius:  you are loathsome.”

“Erotarin, you jealous old fool.”

The boastful:

“No one’s a real man unless he’s loved a woman while still a boy.”

“Restitutus has often seduced many girls.”

The feminist version:

“Euplia was here with thousands of good-looking men.”

The contented:

“I would not sell my husband…for any price…”

The proud  new parents:

“Cornelius Sabinus has been born.”

What I love most about these inscriptions is their immediacy.  I feel as if I know these people,  as if for a moment or two,  I can share their thoughts across the great dark chasm of time.

Leonardo da Vinci: Taking His Last Secrets to the Grave

Did you catch the news headlines yesterday about the Italian researchers who hope to open the tomb of Leonardo da Vinci in France in order to reconstruct his face?  They are keen to see whether the Renaissance artist was indulging in his well-known love of riddles when he painted the Mona Lisa.  For years,  some some scholars have hypothesized that the mysterious beauty in the painting was a self-portrait in drag.

My first reaction to this proposed project was to shake my head in disbelief.  Is this really a valid reason to disturb the sleep of the dead, particularly someone so deserving of our respect? Are we so driven by curiosity that we need to rummage through chill church tombs and peer at the bones of the dead in order to answer a question that is on the level of a barroom bet?

And  I was not  reassured when I Googled the team’s spokesperson, Giorgio Gruppioni, a bioanthropologist at the University of Bologna.  In 2009, Gruppioni and several colleagues  reconstructed the face of one of Italy’s greatest poets, Dante Alighieri, using the cranial data that researchers recorded in 1921 when officially identifying Dante’s remains.  And just a few weeks ago,  Gruppioni and colleagues recovered what they hope will be the remains of  the great 17th century Italian painter, Caravaggio.   Once again, the team announced plans to reconstruct Caravaggio’s face.  Gruppioni and his colleagues seem awfully interested in surface appearances.

But the more I thought about it,  the more I began to see a legitimate context for  these projects.  For the past two decades,  several Italian research teams led by pathologists and anthropologists have been prying open Renaissance tombs and reliquaries to gather vital scientific data.  One of the leading researchers in this field, University of Pisa pathologist Gino Fornaciari has spearheaded several of these projects,  exhuming such Renaissance luminaries as Cosimo I de’ Medici,  Ferdinand II of Aragon, and Maria D’Aragona,  one of the greatest beauties of her day.

I have met and talked at length with Fornaciari,  and can attest to his interest in serious science.  And I was really intrigued today when I checked out his recent publications to see what science had learned from all these rude awakenings of the dead.   His papers covered a wide range of subjects–the methods that Renaissance embalmers employed to artificially mummify royalty  in 16th century Europe;  the species of lice that clung to the mummified remains of Ferdinand II (revealing that these parasites plagued even the wealthiest  during the Renaissance); and the human papillomavirus  (HPV) that infected Maria D’Aragona.  The latter study will permit medical researchers to study the evolution of this important virus, a major cause of cervical cancer, perhaps giving them clues to new treatments.

If the team that wants to open Leonardo da Vinci’s grave obtains permission to do so, I strongly suspect that they will make the most of this rare opportunity,   gathering all the relevant samples and data to do key pathological and bioarchaeological studies.  I personally don’t care whether the great artist painted the Mona Lisa in his own image. But I’d love to know more about the health and life of this great Renaissance artist.

The Streets of Pompeii, Google Style

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Over the past few months,  I have developed very mixed feelings about the internet giant Google.  I hate to see how Google is draining the life out of the newspaper industry,  slurping up all the advertising dollars that once paid for investigative journalism,  foreign bureaus, and very fat papers.  All that has largely fallen by the way for many newspapers,  who are now firmly focussed on survival.

But having said that,  I can see  that someone very high up the food chain at Google is passionate about archaeology.  On November 25th,  I wrote about the 3-D laser scanning project that Google is funding at the Iraq National Museum.  The intent is to bring the treasures of Mesopotamia and other ancient civilizations from the region to scholars around the world.  It’s a wonderful plan.

Now Google has done something else that I really like.  It  has just posted a Street View of Pompeii,  and it’s very, very cool.   You are free to navigate the narrow stony streets of the ancient city at your desk,  stopping to take a gawk at the market stalls and a spin around the forum.  And all on a beautiful,  blue-skied day in southern Italy.