Much has been written about statues of late and whether they should stay up or be taken down or, in the case of the notorious slave trader Colston, be pitched into the Bristol Channel. Reading the demands from people of both ‘sides’, what people seem to care most about is whether the person portrayed deserves a spot in our streets and town squares.  Few people have called for the statues to be destroyed – even Colston was only graffitied and thrown down, although the footage looked as though there was some damage done in the process. His statue has been retrieved already and is undergoing conservation. What matters is where the statues are put – and who gets to decide this.

This strongly reminds me of a statue that I have been researching recently. It is of Clodia Anthianilla, whose parents commissioned a funerary cenotaph at Brindisi to remember her after she died in AD144. This is her, or at least we think it is, because the statue was found next to the base, and is of a young girl dressed appropriately for the rich young lady she clearly was.

This sculpted head found next to the statue is probably of her too.

On the base of the statue is quite a long inscription:

Clodiae L(uci) f(iliae) / Anthianillae / M(arci) Coccei Gemini praef(ecti) ala[e] / L(ucio) Lolliano Avito T(ito) Statilio Maximo co(n)s(ulibus) X K(alendas) April(es) in schola Poll(ia) / q(uod) v(erba) f(acta) s(unt) de honoranda morte Clodiae Anthianillae q(uid) d(e) e(a) r(e) f(ieri) p(laceret) d(e) e(a) r(e) i(ta) c(ensuerunt) / cum Clodia Anthianilla splendidissima puella et cuius in/crementa etiam supra aetatem florentia inter ornamen/ta municipi n(ostri) sperabantur acervissima morte rapta sit paren/tibus suis Clodio Pollioni patrono municipi n(ostri) spl(endidissimo) eq(uiti) R(omano) et bene / de re p(ublica) n(ostra) merito et Seiae Quintil(l)iae matri ornatae feminae quo/rum dolori publica municipi n(ostri) tristitia consentit placere / decur(iones) et in illorum solacium et in memoriam honestissimae / puellae locum posteritatis dari item statuam quam frequentis/simo loco publice poni cens(uit) / L(ucius) Clodius L(uci) f(ilius) Pollio / pater piissimae filiae / h(onore) a(ccepto) i(mpensam) r(emisit)

(AE 1910, 203 = AE 2003, 352)

It is the inscription that tells us all we really know about Anthianilla, which is very little. She is described as a puella, which means a girl of between about 12 years old and her first motherhood.  Her husband commanded an auxiliary cavalry wing and probably in his forties or older, judging by the typical norms of his job. Anthianilla is described as splendidissima, which is an absolutely bog-standard description of a girl of equestrian status.  And that is all that we can learn about her from either inscription or the statue.

The inscription goes on to say that the town has been deprived of this very splendid girl who it is hoped would in her lifetime have become a credit to the town. Then we come to the reason why it gets its spot – which it says has been selected because it’s well-frequented. The town council has decided that a statue of her can be put up in such a public place to console her grieving parents and in her memory. Her Dad happens of course to be the town patron, and so deserving of (and paying for) this honour, and her Mum is a femina ornata – a nice touch emphasising the sort of woman it was hoped Anthianilla would have become. It says much more about the feelings and importance of the people – her parents and the town council – who decided a statue of her was needed than it does about Anthianilla or anything else.

This means that as a biography the inscription isn’t much help. It does though give some insight into the sorts of decision-making that led to the honour of a statue for such a young girl being put up in such a public place. Poor Anthianilla wasn’t a Greta Thunberg, or a Malala Yousafzai. She was a young girl married off to a much older man at what to us is an obscenely young age. Most people at the time who might have objected to this little rich girl being given such an undeserved honour would have had no say. Our reasons would be different, but we definitely wouldn’t choose to put up a statue honoring this girl and her marriage, and a museum seems to be a good place for this statue to reside and be studied.

The importance of a rationale for a statue, and the decision-making over who is honoured, and where, are as evident in this statue as they are in the protests and discussions in the Black Lives Matter debate. On their own, statues usually say very little about biography, or even history. But they can tell us a lot about power, and right now that is why they matter.

There’s more about the statue and the inscriptions and some pictures here: http://www.brundarte.it/2016/07/18/clodia-anthianilla/

The images of the statue come from https://arachne.uni-koeln.de/arachne/index.php?view[layout]=objekt_item&search[constraints][objekt][searchSeriennummer]=3014