DESCRIPTION

A linchpin is an object designed to hold a wheel onto an axle consisting, primarily, of a shank capped by a head. The iron shank would be pushed through a hole in the axle, with the option to add extra security by tying a thin rope through the loop on the thumb's underside. The linchpin has a large iron shank and head covered on its convex exterior with a thick cast copper-alloy casing. This casing is decorated with a flowing, scalloped edge comprising three roll-moulds sweeping diagonally to either side from the base and the whole is surmounted in the centre by a larger than life-size, three-dimensional thumb (fig. 29). The thumb depicts a large nail in its usual anatomical place; the ‘nail side’ of the thumb faces the curve of the upper edge of the casing. The underside of the thumb includes a large annular loop mounted within a squared frame. The object has a prominent dark green patina throughout, abraded occasionally on the upper edges of the scallop moulding to reveal the original brassy colour beneath. As Leahy and Henig suggest the linchpin is broadly of type 1c according to the typology defined by Manning: crescentic head with a peg-loop inserted into the head.Footnote ¹⁶³

The linchpin is unusual in having a decorative copper-alloy element in addition to an iron pin. Manning identifies two main types: those with spatulate heads and those with crescentic heads.Footnote ¹⁶⁴ A few examples had large leaf-shaped heads set at right angles to the pin to provide a toe-step for mounting the vehicle.Footnote ¹⁶⁵ The figural element of the copper-alloy decoration on the Wootton linchpin is notable.

PROVENANCE

The linchpin was recovered from an unstratified context, having been found in plough soil, and there have been no subsequent archaeological investigations in the immediate area upon which we may draw. There is no known Romano-British settlement in Wootton or its immediate environment, though a pair of rectilinear enclosures approximately 2 km away, near Thornton Curtis located on air photography from 2011, may be of Iron Age/Roman date.Footnote ¹⁶⁶ The PAS records twelve coins from the parish of Wootton: a single denarius of Antoninus Pius,Footnote ¹⁶⁷ three radiates,Footnote ¹⁶⁸ seven fourth-century nummi,Footnote ¹⁶⁹ and a possible siliqua dated to a.d. 364–402.Footnote ¹⁷⁰

A large number of Roman small finds associated with the nearby village of Kirmington, located 5 km to the south, may suggest a settlement somewhere in the vicinity.Footnote ¹⁷¹ Other Roman infrastructure in the surrounding hinterland includes the large villa and field-system at Winterton,Footnote ¹⁷² the settlement at Winteringham,Footnote ¹⁷³ the Iron Age/Roman settlement(?) at Yarborough Camp, Croxton,Footnote ¹⁷⁴ and a possible Iron Age/Roman ditched enclosure at Ulceby.Footnote ¹⁷⁵ No Roman roads are known to have travelled through Wootton, though the Margary road no. 270 running south-east–north-west from Horncastle to South Ferriby passed approximately 5 km south-west of Wootton.Footnote ¹⁷⁶ The PastScape monument record for the site at Yarborough Camp also suggests the existence of a prehistoric trackway from Croxton towards South Ferriby: as the crow flies this still does not take in Wootton directly, but moves the potential for a known roadway to within approximately 3 km of the modern village.

Clearly a brief survey of the Roman archaeology surrounding Wootton offers little opportunity to develop a contextual analysis of the thumb-shaped linchpin other than to say that other Romano-British material culture had penetrated the landscape surrounding the modern village of Wootton. While contextual information is important for the interpretation of small finds, it is nevertheless still possible to consider this isolated object within wider symbolic contexts.

EMBODIED MEANINGS: THE THUMB AS A MAGICAL SYMBOL?

The concept of magic has been subject to a great deal of semantic and theoretical discussion in recent years and we do not use the term lightly.Footnote ¹⁷⁷ Leahy and Henig suggest, at the end of their published note, that the depiction of a thumb on the linchpin may have served an apotropaic function through its comparison with the phallus. We can elaborate on this suggestion. The thumb, as part of a fist, was a common motif depicted on fist-and-phallus objects. In this instance the fist represented the mano fico/manus fica ‘fig sign’, a gesture of good luck in the Roman world depicted by the thumb held beneath fingers and protruding beyond these (fig. 30).Footnote ¹⁷⁸ In Roman Britain, this symbol was primarily depicted on objects designed to be mounted or suspended as objects of personal adornment. Greep has identified three distinct types of fist-and-phallus pendants in bone: those of type B1 are simple and manufactured from long strips of bone (the medullary canal frequently visible on the reverse) and are consistently first century in date; type B2 are curved pendants, centrally perforated and decorated with grooves; type B3 are laterally perforated and, in 1983, were confined to Verulamium.Footnote ¹⁷⁹ All of Greep's fist-and-phallus types are first or second century in date. Further variation may be found in metal examples and so in addition to Greep's bone typology, the fist-and-phallus may each project from an upwardly curved bar,Footnote ¹⁸⁰ or be stylised and joined together by a rectangular plate.Footnote ¹⁸¹ The only known group of such objects from Roman Britain is the set of six pendants from an infant's burial in Catterick.Footnote ¹⁸²

FIG. 30. Drawing of a mount depicting a clenched fist making the mano fico/manus fica gesture by tucking the thumb beneath the forefinger; PAS: LIN-2BE126 (Wellingore, Lincs.). (© Portable Antiquities Scheme [CC BY Attribution SA 2.0])

Johns argues that the linguistic and visual pun of the ‘fig sign’ relates explicitly to the vulva and, thus, the fist-and-phallus elements are representative of both male and female genitals.Footnote ¹⁸³ One might question the binary nature of this interpretation given the existence of fist-and-phallus imagery in which an additional phallus or a vulva is incorporated onto the standard one fist/one phallus motif.Footnote ¹⁸⁴ A group of fist-and-phallus pendants from Roman Catterick depicting a scallop shell as a bridge between the two elements has been argued to be an allusion to Venus and, potentially, thus a vulva.Footnote ¹⁸⁵ The interpretation of one group as male and one as female is perhaps a little reductionist and is thrown into question by the unique group of pendants from Catterick, as it is associated with the inhumation of an infant.Footnote ¹⁸⁶

Hands were meaningful symbols in the Roman Empire. Given the close association between hands and phalli, there may be a temptation to interpret them as intuitively ‘male’ symbols. Conversely, however, engendered usage of the two main types of ‘hand’ motif can be identified with hairpins clearly associated with female personal adornment.Footnote ¹⁸⁷ The right hand, when depicted clasping another, is a symbol of marriage between men and women (dextrarum iuncto) and thus non-gendered in this scenario.Footnote ¹⁸⁸ Overall, if there is a gendered narrative in the hand motif it is ambiguous at best and we should certainly be wary of the ‘thumb equals phallus’ interpretation.

Eckardt, in her 2014 book Objects & Identities, dedicates a chapter to ‘Embodied Meanings’ in which she explores the forms and possible meanings behind the use of whole hands on portable objects in the North-Western Roman provinces. We can highlight here that hands were widely depicted on bone and metal hairpins, often holding a spherical object between thumb and forefinger, but occurred also as knife handles, key handles and votive hands.Footnote ¹⁸⁹ In these contexts, hands are frequently represented holding and supporting a spherical object, and there is possibly a tentative connection between this common image and our linchpin, where the thumb is supporting a large annular wheel or axle. Equally, this connection between images may be broadly paralleled in the function of the two object types, the hairpin and linchpin: both are designed to be physically inserted (and when relevant, removed), to support the fixing of something, and are used in such a way as to be visible to others.

There are few other figural depictions of single thumbs from Roman Britain; perhaps the most similar in form is a bone ‘rod’ from Gloucestershire, now in the British Museum (fig. 31).Footnote ¹⁹⁰ This rod depicts a realistic human thumb, carved intricately to depict the knuckle and nail. Unfortunately, the unstratified nature of the bone rod and its unknown original function prevent further comparison between it and our linchpin beyond their figural similarity.

FIG. 31. A bone rod, from Gloucestershire, depicting a human thumb; on display at the British Museum. (© The Trustees of the British Museum)

We must also make a visual comparison with copper-alloy fittings capped with a single finger, bent at right angles but depicted in the round, from Roman Alcester and Springhead.Footnote ¹⁹¹ They include the nail and moulded lines surrounding the joints. Both were capping a cylindrical object, probably in the same manner as a tap finial in the Rijksmuseum.Footnote ¹⁹² The latter included a vertical bracing bar to hold the distal phalanx straight. It capped an open pipe which was perforated laterally by a pair of large circular holes. The turning of the finger may have opened or closed a water supply and the digit thus pointed to a direction of open or closed. We may also draw attention to a large copper-alloy nail or shank capped, at right angles, by a stylised digit from Verulamium.Footnote ¹⁹³ It was one of a series of such clamps which was used to clasp a late first-century building inscription onto a wall in the Basilica.

Although the existence of all of these objects is pertinent to this subject, they do not advance the issue of meaning. For this we might turn to the Roman literary evidence. Although none of this was produced in Britain, it may give us an idea of how the symbol of the thumb was conceived in antiquity. The most overtly magical evidence naturally comes from the Papyri Graecae Magicae (PGM) — a series of ‘do-it-yourself’ guides to magical practice from Roman Egypt.Footnote ¹⁹⁴ Within the PGM, there are four rituals that make prominent use of thumbs, either those of the human practitioner or even of the supernatural forces being invoked in the spell. For example, the gesture of holding the thumbs features as a method of binding both mortals and supernatural entities.Footnote ¹⁹⁵ Corbeill has studied in detail the specific importance of the thumb as a symbol of power in the Roman world, and it must be the case that these spells from the PGM were connected to this wider belief.Footnote ¹⁹⁶ The thumb was considered the most powerful of the digits, and in the arena the thumb of the magistrate giving the games held the power of life and death for gladiators.Footnote ¹⁹⁷ Two of the references to thumb-holding in the PGM are in charms, either to be written down or spoken aloud, aimed at gaining power over certain deities (Selene in IV.2326 and Hekate in 70.4–7) and so seem to be metaphors making use of the image of the thumb as the most powerful digit. The other two thumb-holding references come from instructions for relatively short rituals, and require the performer to hold their own thumbs while repeating a short phrase seven times:

There is no clue from the text for how exactly this would work, and there are a number of possibilities. The simplest would be enclosing the thumb within the clenched fist, so perhaps this is the most likely, but the manus fica gesture of holding the thumb between index and middle fingers (discussed above) could also fit the description.Footnote ²⁰⁰ It is also possible to hold the thumbs in the clenched fist of the opposite hand, which brings the hands and wrists together in a posture that could almost represent the wearing of shackles by a bound captive. Speculation over which of these gestures is accurate could be virtually endless, and in the end, we must admit that we can never be sure based on the available evidence. It is likely that either the practitioners themselves understood how the gesture was to be performed, or that the wording was left intentionally vague to allow for individual variations depending on specific circumstances.Footnote ²⁰¹ Understanding exactly how these gestures were performed is not necessary for the interpretation of our linchpin. However, the existence of these texts does demonstrate the power attributed to the thumb in the Roman world, and its role not just in apotropaic or protective rituals, but in aggressive magic too.

Although only in passing, there is one final literary reference to thumbs that seems pertinent here. In Epodes 5 (ll. 46–8), Horace describes Canidia, the archetypal witch of Roman literature, as having untrimmed thumbnails. Ogden tentatively suggests that this might be for the purposes of digging necromantic pits or sacrificing humans and animals, and it is certainly part of the bestial image of Canidia and the other witches in this poem.Footnote ²⁰² Although Ogden suggests that all of the witch's fingernails are likely to have been untrimmed, the fact that Horace makes specific mention of the thumbnail is unlikely to be accidental and could very well be making reference to the idea of the thumb as the most powerful digit.Footnote ²⁰³

This section has taken in a very wide range of evidence, from bone pendants in Roman Britain to spells on Graeco-Roman-Egyptian papyri and classical Latin poetry. In some ways this is emblematic of the difficulty in studying Roman magical beliefs and practices; the often scant and frustratingly vague nature of the surviving sources for these things means that nets must be cast very wide. These sources come from very different cultural and historical contexts and should only be combined into a synthetic picture with great care. Nevertheless, we do not think it is too much of a stretch to argue that they suggest a common understanding of the thumb as a powerful magical symbol, possibly associated with the phallus and available for use in either protective or aggressive rituals.

FUNCTIONAL AND PHYSICAL CONTEXTS

The thumb has been clearly selected for use in a very specific space, and this immediate functional context is crucial for interpreting its meaning. The interior of the thumb points (as if away from the body) towards the axle and the road, not the wheel or the vehicle. Leahy and Henig suggest that, because of its positioning, the thumb on the linchpin could also be figuratively ‘holding’ the axle down, keeping it secure.Footnote ²⁰⁴ The digit remained hovering over the axle, in close physical proximity to it, rather than revolving with the wheel. The thumb was a fixed point, a static object which functioned to hold or fix the wheel in place. It pointed towards the wheel axle, not to the passengers or the cargo. Perhaps in this position the addition of the thumb gesture may have provided a supernatural element to the permanence of this fixture. The hand, or possibly the fist, to which this raised thumb should have been attached is not depicted on the object. Does the detached, isolated nature of this thumb hold added significance? Quite possibly. In regard to Roman phallic amulets, Whitmore has noted that some of their efficacy could have come from their ability to shock, surprise or distract a viewer because of their presence in places where one would not expect to see a penis.Footnote ²⁰⁵ A wheel is not the natural place to see a thumb, just as the neck is anatomically not the natural place to see a penis (although ancient viewers may have been familiar with phallus amulets worn on necklaces). Our linchpin could be tapping into these ideas of detachment and surprise for its magical potency. This could be further enhanced by the isolation of the thumb away from the rest of a human hand to which it would normally be attached.

The flutings on the linchpin's head may be compared with examples from Brading, Isle of Wight, and Tiddington, Oxon., though these comparanda do not advance our interpretation.Footnote ²⁰⁶ A group of four matching linchpins from Sandy, Beds., provide a useful point of comparison with this object. The group includes four pins, all iron and with a decoratively engraved, floriate panel on the stem evident on the example that has been cleaned (and presumed to be evident on the remaining examples in the set).Footnote ²⁰⁷ The assemblage from Sandy highlights that decorative linchpins could form part of matching sets. It is, perhaps, not an unreasonable assumption that the Wootton linchpin may also have formed part of a set.

Wheeled carts came in numerous forms and matching the different shapes and functions of these vehicles to their Latin names is a quagmire, though for the sake of completeness it seems pertinent to briefly outline them here. Two-wheeled vehicles include: carpentum (covered), birota (two-horsed, for hire) and plaustrum (the principal wagon). Four-wheeled vehicles include: pilentum (state carriage with four wheels used in religious processions), currus triumphalis (triumphal chariot), carruca (travelling carriage, which may include beds) and reda (Gallic, with two or four horses).Footnote ²⁰⁸ In all cases there is a clear presumption that the linchpin would be matched with an identical example on both sides of the vehicle. After all, thumbs, in their normal anatomical position on people, come in pairs — one left and one right. In terms of its magical function, it also makes sense to duplicate the image on all the vehicle's wheels so as not to favour one or more over others. If one wheel needed protecting, then presumably they all did. Consider then, a moving cart with two or four outwardly-pointing thumbs visible. To a standing viewer, only one or two of these thumbs would be visible and they certainly were conspicuous. The copper-alloy material used would have been particularly eye-catching in bright sunlight or flickering torch-light. Naturally, this was a wheel fixing and thus exposed to all elements, so we must consider that the pin could also have been caked in mud and drenched by rain. There is no clear use-wear, though the corrosion of the iron pin perhaps masks this, thus we have no indication of the lifespan of this object; it could have been used and/or curated for years or decades, regularly removed and replaced in one wheel or used on multiple vehicles, placed in once and left for a longer duration, or even fallen off on its first day of use. The discovery of additional examples, particularly from stratified archaeological contexts, may shed light on this issue in future.

Perhaps one of the vehicle types was more appropriate to have a thumb-shaped linchpin? Perhaps the copper-alloy exterior was a symbol of higher status — adding that extra bright, brassy, shine to a wheel that did not need it to function? This socioeconomic concern is not mutually exclusive with the proposition that the thumb represented an apotropaic device. By extension, an apotropaic function accorded to this thumb-shaped linchpin was intended to protect whatever was held above the wheel (cargo, passengers) from the dangers of the road. Myriad possibilities spring to mind for how this may have manifested itself. In searching for comparisons to this function, we may again turn to the contextual use of phallic imagery. In the case studies of both phallic stone carvings in the north of Britain and polyphallic tintinnabula more widely, one of the authors has argued that these both had a spatially limited zone of efficacy, in other words they were designed to protect their immediate surroundings to the scale of a room or structure.Footnote ²⁰⁹ This limited efficacy is relevant to the case of a linchpin. Presuming the existence of matching pins on the other wheels, the extent of an apotropaic effect to each individual wheel may be speculated to have encompassed the whole vehicle and its immediate surroundings. Merrifield once described the efficacy of the phallic image as a kind of ‘lightning conductor’ for bad luck.Footnote ²¹⁰ A recent experimental study by Whitmore into the worn position of a phallic pendant upon a human body corroborates this idea by highlighting that the pendant was designed to point outwards, to face the direction of travel of the wearer.Footnote ²¹¹ The deliberate outward projection of a large cast thumb could be incorporating similar logic — attempting to capture or attract negative supernatural forces before they were able to interfere with the important workings of the cart itself. In her most recent study of phallic amulets, Whitmore has identified a strong association between phallic amulets and pack animals in the Roman world, again with the assumption of an apotropaic effect.Footnote ²¹² Although these amulets seem to have normally been attached to the animals themselves, there is reason to believe that vehicles could be protected in this way too. Another Romano-British linchpin, from Chelsham in Surrey, is described by Bird as phallic, further strengthening this connection between phallic imagery and transportation.Footnote ²¹³ The protection of vehicles seems a reasonable desire as vehicles are valuable, expensive objects in themselves, and take on an enhanced value when used to transport people, produce or other goods. The wheels were the crucial parts of a vehicle in providing locomotion, and therefore were the natural targets for protective magical rituals or amulets. The thumb linchpin was most obviously intended to protect the wheels and axle from damage while in motion, but there is another possibility. Among the curse tablets found in the temple of Mercury at Uley, Glos., was one written by a man named Honoratus. In this curse, Honoratus complains to the god that someone has stolen ‘two wheels, four cows and many small belongings from my house’.Footnote ²¹⁴ Other curses from Roman Britain confirm that draught animals and associated objects were not uncommon targets for thieves.Footnote ²¹⁵ With these curses in mind, could it be that the Wootton thumb linchpin was intended as a magical anti-theft device?