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: Hunde in der römischen Antike: Rassen/Typen - Zucht - Haltung und Verwendung

2023; Archaeological Institute of America; Volume: 127; Issue: 2 Linguagem: Alemão

10.1086/724679

1939-828X

Cătălin Pavel,

Ancient Near East History

Previous articleNext article FreeBook ReviewHunde in der römischen Antike: Rassen/Typen - Zucht - Haltung und Verwendung By Heidelinde Autengruber-Thüry (Archaeopress Roman Archaeology 84). Oxford: Archaeopress 2021. Pp. 482. ISBN 9781789698367 (paperback) £70.Catalin PavelCatalin PavelOvidius University. Constanța, Romania Search for more articles by this author PDFPDF PLUSFull Text Add to favoritesDownload CitationTrack CitationsPermissionsReprints Share onFacebookTwitterLinkedInRedditEmailPrint SectionsMoreAncient animals have never ceased to fascinate, from O. Keller’s groundbreaking Die antike Tierwelt (W. Engelmann 1909) to the flurry of archaeozoological contributions of the past couple of decades, including the volume edited by S. Deschler-Erb et al., Roman Animals in Ritual and Funerary Contexts (Harrassowitz 2021; for a review, see C. Pavel, AJA 127.1, 2023).In her revised doctoral dissertation, defended in 2017 in Vienna, Autengruber-Thüry set out to reconstruct the world of Roman dogs from scratch, subjecting to scrutiny everything we thought we knew about their breeding, keeping, and uses, including the possibly most complex issue of all, that of ancient dog breeds/types. She first reread all known ancient testimonies, the most important being Aelian, Grattius, Nemesianus, Oppian, Pliny, and Plutarch (458–60; see also the index of sources). While these constitute her primary sources, the author also traveled around the Mediterranean to see with her own eyes artifacts, many of them hidden gems, in famous and obscure museums alike, and took many of the photographs now printed among the volume’s almost 500 excellent illustrations. Roughly 30 pages are dedicated to archaeozoological data, mainly paleopathology (261–64), dog burials and dogs in human graves (283–95), and cynophagy (382–83). As indicated by the title, the research does not encompass the areas of cult, religion, and magic. The author clearly needed, for technical reasons, to impose some limits for her research and is well aware that such a separation is otherwise neither straightforward nor desirable.A most useful, and most complete to date, catalogue of 82 ancient dog breeds/types is compiled (18–64) and summarized in a table (67–71), and eight maps are provided; the reader will note that while some, such as the Molossian, Laconian, Maltese, Cretan, and Indian dogs, are referred to comparatively frequently in ancient sources, 53 of these types are mentioned only once. The ensuing considerations make it plain to see the unwarranted manner in which modern historians and archaeologists have rushed to apply such ancient breed names to some particular hound in a fresco, or to some mutt skeleton. In turn, Autengruber-Thüry argues (as in fact is currently done in zooarchaeological text books, e.g., P. Baker and F. Worley, Animal Bones and Archaeology: Recovery to Archive, Historic England and Liverpool University Press 2019) that the term “breed” should be replaced with “type,” and that body conformation as inferred from dog skeletons cannot and should not lead to labels such as lap dog, shepherd dog, hunting dog, or guard dog but only to classification such as dwarf, bandy-legged (brachymel), medium-sized, or large-sized dogs. Even more ruthless is Autengruber-Thüry when discussing (10–18) the famous representation of a lap dog on an amphora from Vulci, previously in Berlin (lost during World War II), with an inscription designating it as Maltese. She sides with A. Rumpf and his hypothesis put forward exactly a century ago and interprets it, pace Beazley, to actually say MEAITAIE (where instead of the lambda we should thus read an Euboean alpha). We are therefore left without the Berlin Maltese, which had been one of only three representations of ancient dogs to be inscribed with their breed name.Equally valuable is the catalogue of individual dogs’ names, compiled (98–140) and summarized (97–98). These are the names not attested in the old, fully comprehensive at that time (1933) catalogue by F. Mentz (reproduced on 418–20), and include, among many others, the additions made by J.M.C. Toynbee. The reader is presented with names ranging from the brutal Mourdon to the childish Vava (on a remarkable graffito, 127–28). Every single new name is carefully discussed, and the monument illustrated. In the case of the mosaics attesting the names Eurus and Zefyrus (sic), discovered in the villa of Santa Cruz, Spain, which were then robbed in 2011 from the floor, the illustration (fig. 68) is nothing short of gruesome, as is the case with any image of vandalized heritage. Doubtful names trigger commensurate debate (e.g., is Gregori really a dog’s name, or just a watchword of the Isiac community? [115]). Regarding the name Asyncletus (126–27), the author presumably follows the recent reading of R. Wachter, Pompejanische Wandinschriften (De Gruyter 2019) but translates it “der nicht Gerufene,” as opposed to “der Nichtherbeirufbare,” while A. Mau (Bull. Inst. 49, 1877, 30) had read the name on that fresco as “Syncletus” (neither of these two publications is cited). Regarding the name Helena (135–36) on the notorious Getty stele, the author is certain that this is not a pet’s name, though recently N.W. Slater argued otherwise (“Mourning Helena: Emotion and Identification in a Roman Grave Stela (71.AA.271),” Getty Research Journal 2, 2010, 139–46).The volume is a gold mine for realia. No matter how exotic the topic, Autengruber-Thüry is able to garner the relevant information from hundreds of museums and provincial archaeology reports, and to produce splendid illustrations. A perfect example is her discussion of dog kennels; she includes three ancient representations (fig. 131–33), then moves on to consider the archaeological evidence (159–70), with more impossible-to-find old photographs, and even identifies yet another kennel in Pompeii not previously recognized. Brilliant also are the lavish presentations of ancient spike collars (202–11), generally ignored by modern research, with a dozen of their illustrations in ancient art and a unique archaeological discovery of such a collar (from Inzigkofen); and the analysis of dogs’ paw prints on Roman ceramic building material (384–92), many of which, in her view, were in fact tolerated or indeed sought after by tile or brick manufacturers for their apotropaic virtues. Similarly useful is her review of what is generally known as slave collars (189–94), some of which she argues may have been used for dogs (to her bibliography add, however, J. Trimble, who sees no evidence for the latter: “The Zoninus Collar and the Archaeology of Roman Slavery,” AJA 120.3, 2016, 447–72).Throughout the volume, Autengruber-Thüry shows mastery of the literary, epigraphic, and iconographic sources. She connects a low relief in Naples showing a dog napping in a busy workshop to an Aesop fable about a coppersmith (148), identifies no fewer than three figurines of lap dogs sleeping alongside infants (figs. 147–49), collects the evidence for ancient muzzles (235–36), illustrates the most spectacular Roman dog collar ever found (in Syntagma square, Athens) (186, with fig. 206), the Mayen (Rhineland-Palatinate) discovery of a dog’s feeding dish bearing its toothmarks (237), and a dog whistle (238). In the process, she also debunks various misconceptions: for example, that the Romans were not aware that puppies have no sense of hearing during their first couple of weeks of life; and that, as some modern scholars have said, without justification, guide dogs led the blind in antiquity.The task that Autengruber-Thüry set herself was immensely difficult and required tackling a vast variety of art historical, archaeological, and archaeozoological material, each category raising its own caveats and standing in need of a specific approach. She has acquitted herself admirably in this task. Given the ambitious scope of the volume, necessarily a lot of prioritization of the material had to take place, and occasionally some information had to be left out. In suggesting here a few additions, I in no way intend to distract from the value of this book.The author engages only very briefly with the wide corpus of published morphometric and morphological evidence from Roman dog skeletons (see, e.g., L. Colominas, “Morphometric Variability of Roman Dogs in Hispania Tarraconensis: The Case Study of the Vila de Madrid Necropolis,” International Journal of Osteoarchaeology 26.5, 2016, 897–905). The equally brief examination of the famous well on the Kolonos Agoraios (290) uses data from the assessments in the 1940s, data that has little in common with that in the final publication (M.A. Liston et al., The Agora Bone Well, American School of Classical Studies 2018). The consideration given to the dog Tauron (266–67) could have benefited from T. Purola’s article “P. Cairo Zenon 4.59532 – Two Epitaphs for a Hunting Dog Called Tauron” (Arctos: Acta Philologica Fennica, 28, 1994, 55–62), and the rather common-sense discussion of the large dog mosaic in Alexandria (404–6) from the scholarly hypotheses in F. Queyrel, “Le chien au conge d’Alexandrie” (Études et Travaux 25, 2012, 320–37). The ivory knife handle from Silchester showing two dogs mating (77), would have appeared even more remarkable were it pointed out that it was discovered associated with a pair of dogs (K. Smith, Guides, Guards and Gifts to the Gods: Domesticated Dogs in the Art and Archaeology of Iron Age and Roman Britain, BAR 422, British Archaeological Reports 2006). The review of dogs pulling carts and chariots in Roman times does not take into account the potentially parodic dimension of such scenes (as in the case of bigae with child charioteers pulled by various species of birds on the floor of the Villa Romana del Casale), and it could have been followed by mention of the terracottas (mainly Hellenistic in date, a few of which are from Italy) showing dogs being ridden, again by children.In this volume of such magnificent breadth, the author has gone above and beyond her duty to peruse the corpora of documents. I suggest only a few additions to her collection. The British Museum stele of the girl Avita reading from a scroll while her dog seems to try to lure her into frolicking is particularly endearing, as are the coins minted in the time of Sulla showing the dog Argus. More importantly, however, a number of lap dogs on gravestones from Gaul seem to be missing here, most likely because they were traditionally taken to be cats, something C. Johns has shown to be inaccurate (“The Tombstone of Laetus’ Daughter: Cats in Gallo-Roman Sculpture,” Britannia 34, 2003, 53–63).A colossally rich book, even if written in a drier manner than the topic perhaps deserves, Hunde in der römischen Antike will help to steer in the right direction the pursuits of any student of ancient dogs, or, indeed, of other domesticated animals.Notes[email protected] Previous articleNext article DetailsFiguresReferencesCited by American Journal of Archaeology Volume 127, Number 2April 2023 The journal of the Archaeological Institute of America Views: 135Total views on this site Article DOIhttps://doi.org/10.1086/724679 Views: 135Total views on this site HistoryPublished online March 07, 2023 Copyright © 2023 by the Archaeological Institute of AmericaPDF download Crossref reports no articles citing this article.