Category: Modern(ish)

Islay remembers the Tuscania

Modern(ish)

The SS Tuscania, built as an ocean cruiser of Cunard’s Anchor Line, was one of the first troop ships to carry US soldiers to the Western Front in World War I. While war had been declared against Germany in April of 1917, the sleeping giant took months to rouse, with war declared against Austria-Hungary in December 1917 and actual troop movements only beginning in early 1918. Full-scale mobilization would not take place for weeks after that.

The Tuscania departed from Hoboken, New Jersey, on January 24th, 1918, with 2,164 US Army troops and 239 crew members headed for Liverpool on the way to its ultimate destination, the port of Le Havre in France. It made it as far as the Hebridean waters seven miles off the coast of the Scottish island of Islay where on the night of February 5th German U-Boat 77 torpedoed it. The ship suffered a direct hit and sank in a matter of hours.

The ship was abandoned in orderly, efficient fashion, but many of the damaged lifeboats capsized in the cold, rough sea. The British destroyers Mosquito, Grasshopper and Pigeon saved 1,500 or so men. An estimated 230 men either went down with the ship or were lost in the aftermath.

Many of the survivors, in lifeboats or not, washed ashore on Islay’s treacherous shoals. The people of Islay responded to the disaster with selfless dedication. More than 100 sons of Islay had died in World War I by this point, and their families felt keenly the loss of life of the American lads who had just joined the fight.

Robert Morrison, a shepherd and farmer, was one of several Islay men who risked death to rescue soldiers and crew from the shoals. After personally saving three men, he and his family took 90 survivors into their small cottage and nursed them back to health, losing only two men, one from exhaustion shortly after the sinking, the other three days later from pneumonia. They used up every last morsel of their food stores and all the clothing in caring for the Tuscania troops but categorically refused repayment from the Red Cross. An American Red Cross officer who liaised with Morrison described him in the official report as “one of the greatest heroes that I ever heard of.”

In total, 132 men were rescued on Islay. The villagers’ heroic efforts didn’t end there. They again risked life and limb to wade into the sharp breakers to retrieve the bodies of 183 men who had died in the disaster. The whole island worked tirelessly to treat the perished with the utmost respect and care. The public hall was used as a mortuary where the battered bodies were cleaned and every distinguishing characteristic recorded in police sergeant Malcolm MacNeill’s notebooks to make it possible for the families of the deceased to identify them. Hugh Morrison, Laird of Islay, donated land and timber. In less than three days, four cemeteries were created, and coffins and shrouds made for all of the dead.

But even this Herculean effort was not sufficient for the good people of Islay. They wanted to bury the fallen with the honor and dignity they deserved, and that required an American flag. There was none to be had on Islay or anywhere else within easy range and as time was a factor, the villagers decided to make one. With nothing but an encyclopedia as a reference, Jessie McLellan, Mary Cunningham, Catherine McGregor, Mary Armour and John McDougall stayed up all night on February 7th to cut and stitch together seven red bars, six white ones and 48 white stars. In just a few hours they produced a proper US flag 67 inches long and 37 inches wide.

On February 8th, under the newly-made Stars and Stripes, a pre-existing Union Jack and accompanied by the mournful sound of traditional Scottish bagpipes, the firs group dead soldiers were buried, their surviving comrades serving as pallbearers. Over the next few days, the rest were buried in the four cemeteries. All of the bodies except for one would eventually be exhumed and returned to the United States for reburial.

The flag was gifted by the people of Islay to Woodrow Wilson, with the request that he give it a museum. He gave it to the Smithsonian Institution where it was put on display until at least 1927. Eventually it ended up in storage at the National Museum of Natural History.

Despite the posters and songs exhorting the American public to “Remember the Tuscania,” it has been eclipsed in the collective consciousness and in history texts by the Lusitania, even though the latter wasn’t a troopship and was torpedoed fully two years before the US entered the war. Islay, however, has never forgotten. This year was the centennial of the disaster and Islay held two services on February 5th in honor of the lost.

On May 4th, Islay will commemorate the sacrifices made in World War I with an International Service of Remembrance for the Tuscania disaster, the HMS Otranto collision (which took place in October of 1918) and the men of Islay who fought and died in the war. On its way to join the solemnities is the Islay American flag. The Smithsonian has loaned it to the Museum of Islay Life where it will be on display for five months, a symbol of the dedication, sacrifice and respect shown by the people of Islay to the American doughboys, survivor and fallen alike.

Look inside a cuneiform tablet

Ancient, Modern(ish)

The Netherlands Institute for the Near East (NINO) at the University of Leiden has the largest collection of cuneiform tablets in the Netherlands, upwards of 3,000 tablets ranging in date from 2,500 to 4,000 years ago. Some of the tablets are still enveloped in the original clay covers which served as a means of data protection. The majority of cuneiform tablets document financial transactions, inventory, a wide assortment of business, religious and government records. If the inscription was exposed, figures could be easily be changed by simply dunking the tablet in water to soften it a little. Such records would be under constant threat of fraud and forgery. The outer clay layer made it impossible to alter the document without breaking the envelope and making the interference unmistakably clear.

When the study of cuneiform tablets began in earnest the 19th century, archaeologists had no qualms about breaking the hard candy shell to get to the chocolaty text within. These days destruction in the name of knowledge acquisition is no longer an acceptable approach to archaeological materials. Technology has made non-invasive methods of investigation not only possible, but exponentially superior to the crude bull-in-a-china-shop methods of yore. Synchroton light, lasers and CT scanners can see far better than the human eye.

To that end, NINO researchers have enlisted the aid of the micro-CT-scanner at Delft University of Technology to see into the clay tablets that still retain their envelopes. The micro-CT scan generates a 3D model of the object in sections and in enough detail that the surface of the tablet within the clay cover can be read.

UofT acquires oldest English-language book in Canada

Modern(ish), Renaissance

The University of Toronto’s Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library celebrated World Book Day today by announcing the acquisition of the Caxton Cicero. Printed in 1481, only four decades after the invention of the printing press in the West, the volume is believed to be the oldest English-language book in Canada, and it’s certainly the oldest in the library’s collection, eclipsing the previous record-holder (a copy of The Golden Legend printed by Caxton in 1507) by a quarter century.

William Caxton, the man who introduced movable type to England, included three translated Latin treatises in the untitled book: De Amicitia (“On Friendship”) and De Senectute (“On Old Age”) by Marcus Tullius Cicero, and De Nobilitate (“On Nobility”) by early 15th century humanist Giovane Buonaccorso da Montemagno the Younger. This was the first book by a classical ancient author to be translated into English, as well as the first Renaissance humanist author translated into English.

Unlike The Golden Legend, of which thousands of manuscripts and printed editions survive, there are only 13 known extant copies of the Caxton Cicero.

At the end of the first text, Caxton includes a colophon […], which is an imprint by the printer that includes information about the book’s publication.

The printed text states that the book is “imprinted by me simple person William Caxton into English at the pleasure, solace and reverence of men growing into old age.” The writing in ink below the statement is likely a person practising their handwriting, trying to emulate the type – likely from the end of the 15th century, says [interim head of rare books and manuscripts at Fisher Library, Pearce] Carefoote.

Through clues buried inside the book, one can trace the history of the Caxton Cicero back to one of its first owners, Thomas Shupton – thought to be a monk during the time of Henry VIII. It was then given to 16th-century politician Sir Robert Coke, who passed it on to his nephew. After his nephew’s death, the book was given to Sion College in London, which kept it until 1977 when it was bought by Mexican author Roberto Salinas Price through a rare book dealer.

U of T acquired the text from Price’s estate, which was made possible by many donors, led by the B.H. Breslauer Foundation and with the support from the University of Toronto through a matching grant.

In a random but satisfying numerological coincidence, it is the 15th millionth book in the Fisher Library collection. It will be of inestimable scholarly value to students of the classics, Renaissance, the history of the English language (Caxton’s publications were instrumental in establishing the primacy of the London dialect, standardizing English and spreading literacy), the physical object of the book and more. Library staff also plan to digitize the book so that it can be accessed by interested parties all over the world.

Happy Birthday, Rome, from the Antonine Wall.

Ancient, Modern(ish), Roma, Caput Mundi

It’s April 21st, the traditional founding day of the city of Rome when, according to legend (one of them, anyway) Romulus ploughed a furrow laying out the boundaries of the city, sacrificed to the gods and became the first king of Rome by popular acclaim. Ancient sources vary on the date of this mythical event (in fact, archaeological evidence indicates Rome has been inhabited since Paleolithic times, ca. 14,000 years ago) but for the past couple of thousand years the most widely accepted date for the founding is 753 B.C., which makes the Eternal City 2,772 years old today.

It was a comparative baby of 895 years old when its legions built the Antonine Wall across the width of Scotland, a series of defensive ramparts, ditches and forts marking the furthest northwestern boundary of the empire. The soldiers left distance stones, slabs with reliefs and inscriptions documenting how much of the wall they’d built, features unique to the Antonine Wall.

A new study by University of Glasgow archaeologist Dr. Louisa Campbell has found that those distance slabs, now worn down to their natural sandstone, were originally painted in bright red and yellow. She used X-ray and laser technology to analyze the Second Legion’s distance stone, found at Summerston Farm in the 17th century.

Inscribed with a dedication to Antoninus Pius (“For the Emperor Caesar Titus Aelius Hadrianus Antoninus Augustus Pius, father of his country, the Second Augustan Legion completed [this work] over a distance of 3666.5 paces”), the stone depicts Roman cavalry with two captives on the left of the inscription, and an eagle on top of a capricorn (emblem of the Second Legion) on the right. It is currently on display at the University of Glasgow’s Hunterian Museum.

Distance Slab, Summerston, Antonine Wall by Historic Environment Scotland on Sketchfab

Dr. Campbell used portable X-Ray Flourescence and Raman Spectroscopic technology to analyze the traces of pigment remaining on several distance stones, including the Summerston stone. They identified a limited palette of vibrant red and yellow that was used as visually impactful propaganda that would have conveyed a clear message to indigenous peoples about the power and strength of the Roman empire.

There is a clear format to the application of pigments in the Roman Empire with specific colours expected to appear in certain contexts, eg reds in letters and Roman cloaks and military standards, different colours of red depicting spilled blood of indigenous captive warriors and ochres probably applied in layers to provide life-like skin tones, as evidenced on marble statuary.

There is even evidence for red on the beak of the Roman eagle which Dr Campbell suggests symbolises the eagle feasting on the flesh of her enemies.

A base layer of gesso was applied to the stones in the first instance which was then painted onto, but conservation practices appear to have negatively impacted the survival of these exquisite sculptures.

This is innovative work that has not previously been attempted. It presented some challenges which have now been mitigated and the next phase of the research seeks to determine whether other stone statuary, including Pictish symbol stones and other early medieval sculpture was adorned in colour.

Roman Republic coin collection digitzed

Ancient, Modern(ish), Multimedia

Rutgers University has digitized its Ernst Badian Collection of Roman coins from the Republican era, a group of more than 1,200 coins that cover the period from 280 B.C. through 31 B.C. and the end of the Republic. Numismatics provide a unique perspective on history, not just monetary but political and social. The Badian Collection’s focus on Republican Rome makes it an invaluable (pun intended) resource for students of a period that in the earliest years of coin production has limited surviving contemporary historical documentation.

The collection begins with examples of cast bronze coinage, used in the earliest stages of monetization. The Republic moved to struck coins, some made of silver as the standard metal for coins. The denarius, half-denarius and quinarius all were struck from silver. Smaller denominations continued to be struck from bronze. Early coins found in the collection often imitate examples from the Greek colonies in southern Italy (Magna Graecia). The movement to silver denominations, like the denarius, unique to Rome, also is documented. There also are examples of brockage, an error caused when a coin adhered to the die and was struck a second time.

Coins in the collection also document the political aspects of striking coins unique to Rome. Young politicians served as official moneyers (tresviri monetales). They put their names on coins and selected motifs that conveyed messages about their families’ histories and the virtues they claimed these had. The most common message was the importance of military virtues. Patriotic images like the helmeted head of Rome and the she wolf appear together with images of deities. Reflecting affairs in Italy and beyond, changes in money weights and the addition of victory motifs show the fortunes of a rising empire. This includes evidence of the difficulties of the Republic during the Second Punic War, when Hannibal campaigned in Italy. An unusual use of gold as an “emergency” coinage during the Second Punic War is represented among the coins at Rutgers. The collection also documents financial pressures that caused debasement of currency in the same period. Victories were commemorated with special coins and the use of images of trophies won by the armies of the Republic.




The collection thus illustrates comprehensively the progressively heated political climate of the later Republic, and the various fortunes of charismatic leaders such as Marius, Sulla, Crassus, Pompey, Julius Caesar, Lepidus and Marc Antony, as well as those of numerous other ambitious families and individuals.

In-person access to the collection is limited by preservation and security concerns, so the digitization project opens up previously closed doors not just to scholars and academics, but to everyone who is interested in Roman and numismatic history. Rutgers graduate students did the work, spending four years photographing every coin from multiple angles and uploading the images to the dedicated website. They can be searched by keyword, which makes it easy to use the coins for research on a subject that is not literal monetary history.

The coins were collected by Harvard professor Ernst Badian who donated the coins to Rutgers in 2001. Professor Badian researched his own collection assiduously and wrote notes on many individual coins. Those hand-written notes identifying the coins, their dates, inscriptions and iconography have also been digitized so you can see scans of the original notes in his hand as well as transcriptions.

To search or browse the Ernst Badian Collection, click here.