La Tiara di Saitaferne

  Saitaphernes' Golden Tiara

The Louvre's magnificent Greco-Scythian crown is a fake & Israel Rouchomovski takes a bow

Life magazine featured the tiara in its September 26, 1955, issue in one of several articles about fakes and the Louvre's "Salon of Fakes" exhibition.

Debate over the authenticity of a massive gold crown known as the Tiara of Saitaphernes divided Paris in 1896. According to an inscription on the tiara, it was a gift from Olbia, a Greek colony on the Black Sea coast, to the 3rd-century B.C. Scythian king Saitaphernes. Russian art dealer Schapschelle Hochmann's tale was that it was found at Olbia, near Odessa in present-day Ukraine. The inscription on it even matched an ancient one that had already been published. But it later became clear that the tiara's new owner, the Louvre, had not performed adequate research into its origins before buying.

By the end of the 19th century, Greek and Scythian artwork from Russia was highly coveted as a result of magnificent finds from sites such as Kul Oba (1830), Chertomlyk (1863), and Seven Brothers (1875-1878). With European museums and collectors hungry to acquire anything from this region, the stage was set for a remarkable swindle.

 

In 1895, a Vienna newspaper ran a brief note about Crimean peasants making an extraordinary discovery, but possibly fleeing Russia out of fear that the government would confiscate their find. Hochmann exhibited some "newly recovered" Russian antiquities in Vienna in February 1896, including the tiara. 

At 7 inches in height, and weighing a little more than a pound of solid gold, the pointed dome-like tira was decorated with lower, narrower band shows genre scenes of Scythian daily life; upper band, wider and shows episodes from Iliad including Agamemnon and Achilles quarreling over Briseis.

The Imperial Court Museum in Vienna and British Museum both passed on the tiara, but the Louvre jumped at the opportunity to purchase it, paying 200,000 francs for it on April 1. Almost immediately, questions about its origins arose. Professor Vesselovsky of St. Petersburg and Adolf Furtwängler both condemned it in print in 1896. The Louvre did not budge, its "authorities took in no pleasant way Prof. Furtwängler's criticism on certain objects in that collection, notably the Tiara of Saitophenes, which he declared to be spurious. ...Because the professor was a German, the French declared his motives to have been dictated by spite" (New York Times). With the museum reluctant to brand its new beauty a fake, a six-year battle over the tiara between the Louvre and the Parisian press ensued.

The crown's amazing state of preservation was the key clue. The only damage was in non-essential areas. Ironically, while this should have been a tip off to the Louvre, it was actually a hook for the museum, which took pride in the tiara's almost perfect state. Arguments went back and forth until Henri Rochefort, the editor of the newspaper L'Intransigeant, finally convinced the Louvre to perform a thorough investigation.

In 1903, the newspaper Le Matin published a letter by a Russian jeweler named Lifschitz, who said he witnessed a friend named Israel Rouchomovski making the tiara. The artist, from a small town near Odessa, was brought to Paris. When questioned by the Louvre, he claimed Hochmann tricked him into making the phony crown and that he had not known its real purpose. Hochmann, he said, had asked him to make a tiara as a gift "for an archaeologist friend" and gave him books showing Greco-Scythian artifacts on which to base the work. Rouchomovski pointed out the exact books (Bilder-Atlas für Weltgeschichte and Antiquités de la Russsie Méridionale) to the investigators and described how he made it in three parts that he soldered. He was then given a sheet of gold and asked to prove his skill before they accepted his story. He did and they did.

Taken by the desire to acquire the tiara, the Louvre had missed warning signs that could have saved them considerable embarrassment. The tiara was flawed: there were traces of modern tools, there was modern soldering (though cleverly concealed), and an inscription was raised in relief. And then there was the preservation, ridiculed in a World Today article in 1907:

There are a lot on indentations on the tiara and these furnish a comical note in this affair. They were supposed to have been caused by the falling of stones of the mouldering tomb. These stones certainly possessed a rare and discriminating appreciation of art, since they had avoided falling on any of the numerous figures in relief, but had dented in most of the smooth spaces. What was more, unless the worthy Scythian potentate had turned around a few times in his tomb one could not explain why dents were found on all sides of his tiara. However there had been no miracle, the bumps and indentations were made by using alternately the ends of a common ballpane hammer.

The Louvre still owns the Tiara of Saitaphernes, though it is no longer on display. The World Today article quoted above predicted that "It would indeed be very surprising if the tiara was ever again exhibited." But in 1954 the Louvre included it in "Salon of Fakes," along with eight Mona Lisas. In 1997 the Israel Museum in Jerusalem had an exhibition about Rouchomovksi at which the tiara was displayed. Today, in the Tel Aviv Museum of Art is a small installation with three pieces. One is a replica of the Tiara of Saitaphernes. Another is a double-sided silver engraving showing the fall of Saitaphernes, perhaps a fitting metaphor for the embarrassment the Louvre suffered in the scandal. And there's a plaque that tells about Rouchomovski and his crowning hoax.

The Tiara of Saitaphernes is an example of two factors that make archaeological frauds possible. The willingness of individuals or institutions to acquire artifacts with no documented findspot opens a gateway for forgers. Once a fake is in the door, it is difficult for the purchaser to admit that they were taken, all the more so if the fake is a spectacular and costly one.

© 2009 by the Archaeological Institute of America
archive.archaeology.org/online/features/hoaxes/saitaphernes_tiara.html

La Fibbia di Numasio Prenestino, meglio noto come Wolfgang er Tedesco

Who  Made  the  Praeneste  Fibula?

History is rewritten when archaeologist Wolfgang Helbig teams up with a forger

MANIOS MED FHE FHAKED NUMASIOI

The inscription, likely forged by Helbig, on the Praenetse fibula

L'iscrizione, probabilmente falsificata da Helbig

Viene fatta corrispondere, in latino classico, a MANIUS ME FECIT (pro) NUMERIO, ossia « Manio mi fece per Numerio ».
Gli argomenti linguistici a favore dell'antichità dell'iscrizione sono i seguenti:

• la redazione da destra a sinistra
• la trascrizione arcaica della consonante latina f per mezzo di vh
• la morfologia arcaica, con un nominativo in –os, un dativo in –oi, il pronome personale di prima persona all'accusativo med, il perfetto del verbo facere formato con un raddoppiamento
• la forma arcaica delle lettere, paragonabili a quelle delle iscrizioni greche di Cuma.
• il testo è anteriore al "rotacismo", vale a dire alla trasformazione in -R- di -S- intervocalico (numaSioi).
• il testo è anteriore anche agli "indebolimenti" che colpiscono le vocali delle sillabe successive alla prima (per cui A passerà a E in sillaba chiusa)

I primi dubbi sull'autenticità dell'iscrizione furono sollevati già all'inizio del XX secolo, viste le circostanze non documentate della scoperta. (Dapprima Heilbig sostenne d'avere acquistato la spilla da un conoscente; in seguito indicò la Tomba Bernardini - scavata nel 1876 - quale luogo del ritrovamento).
Ciononostante, la fibula è stata a lungo menzionata nelle pubblicazioni su Roma antica. Nel 1977, la spilla venne esposta a Parigi ad una mostra al Petit Palis sulla nascita di Roma. Il catalogo dell'esposizione ne presentava due foto e la inseriva tra gli oggetti della tomba Bernardini. Le foto, prese dall'alto e dalla faccia posteriore, evitavano di mostrare l'iscrizione, che veniva tuttavia menzionata nei testi introduttivi al catalogo.
Nel 1980, l'epigrafista italiana Margherita Guarducci sostenne pubblicamente che non solo l'iscrizione, ma la stessa fibula era un falso, frutto della collaborazione tra Wolfgang Helbig e l'antiquario Francesco Martinetti.
Quella della Guarducci fu la presa di posizione più netta a sfavore dell'autenticità del monile, ma non raccolse unanimità di consensi in seno alla comunità scientifica, e il dibattito rimase aperto fino al 2011, quando la controversia fu risolta grazie ad un'indagine condotta da Daniela Ferro dell'Istituto per lo Studio dei Materiali Nanostrutturati (Ismn) del CNR e da Edilberto Formigli, restauratore e docente presso l'Università 'La Sapienza' di Roma e quella di Firenze.
L'analisi della superficie della fibula, effettuata tramite un microscopio elettronico a scansione e una microsonda elettronica con spettrometro a raggi X in dispersione di energia, ha permesso di stabilire la congruenza tra l'età ipotizzata del manufatto (VII secolo a.C.) e le tecniche orafe etrusche dell'epoca, sia per il monile che per l'incisione. Si è inoltre scoperto che la fibula era stata riparata anticamente con una lamina a foglia d'oro per nascondere una piccola frattura che si era formata nella staffa.

At a meeting of the German Institute in Rome on January 7, 1886, Wolfgang Helbig described an engraved gold fibula or dress pin found at Palestrina, ancient Praeneste, in 1871. Helbig had a good reputation in the archaeological community and had been second secretary (assistant director) of the Institute since 1865, so there was no reason to doubt his account or the fibula's authenticity.

About 4.5 inches long, the fibula was not unique, but its Latin inscription was. The text was mundane, reading "Manios has made me [or, had me made] for Numasios." However, the use of the characters FH for the sound F made it linguistically earlier than any other known Latin inscription. Helbig dated it to the 6th century B.C., the date then given to the Barberini and Bernardini tombs at Palestrina. Known as the Manios or Praeneste fibula, it remained a chronological benchmark for study of the development of Latin for nearly a century.

But Helbig hadn't told the Institute audience all he knew. He said a friend owned it, and that friend was Francesco Martinetti, a seller of antiquities, faker, and smuggler. And there were signs that something was wrong with Helbig's tale. The fibula was later said to be from the Bernardini Tomb, which was excavated in 1876. That contradicted Helbig's story, but he didn't challenge it. The few who raised questions about the fibula, such as archaeologist Giovanni Pinza in 1905, were ignored. Helbig said it was genuine and if the exact circumstances of its discovery were murky, so what.

Books by Wolfgang Helbig, a scholar gone bad over a century ago, are still in print today.

Though he was intellectually gifted, Helbig's personality did not impress everybody. Archaeologist Otto Jahn had thought him lacking in self-discipline, and the great classicist Theodor Mommsen said he was "a lightheaded fly" and a "loafer." In fact, things were worse, and the real story of Helbig and the Praeneste fibula is one about "the world of the salon, of the collector, of the rich and famous, of the dealer, of the masterpiece and the fraud" (Holloway 1994).

A comprehensive study by Margherita Guarducci in 1980 showed that suspicions about the fibula were well founded. In La cosiddetta Fibula Prenestina. Antiquari, eruditi e falsari nella Roman dell' Ottocento, Guarducci, a University of Rome Greco-Latin epigraphist, pointed out that the inscription was rather poorly executed, compared to genuine ones, as though engraved by an amateur. She noted how, compared to ancient gold, which can be brittle, the fibula could bend quite easily. Chemical analysis showed that the gold was unlike specimens known to be from Palestrina. Finally, examination of the inscribed area showed that the surface had been treated with acid to look old. Guarducci knew of Helbig's involvement with Martinetti, who could have made the fibula, basing it on real ones from Palestrina. But analysis shows the inscription matches Helbig's handwriting.

Why would Helbig, with his reputation and position, do this? Perhaps the ambitious scholar thought a brilliant "discovery" would aid him in being appointed head of the Institute. Indeed, shortly after Helbig presented the fibula, the first secretary (director) Wilhelm Henzen died. Helbig was made acting director, but did such a poor job that he was sacked, leaving October 1, 1887. Helbig then began what has been called a Jekyll and Hyde existence (Gordon 1982):

On the one hand, the life of a much respected scholar, much honored by the Italians and the French; on the other...[an] unscrupulous businessman, who with his collaborator Martinetti made a fortune out of illegal, fraudulent activities--illegal in acquiring antiques as well as in getting them transported out of Italy by bribery, not to mention the fraud involved in embellishing genuine antiques to get higher prices and in creating fake antiques.

Helbig's contemporary philologist Ulrich von Wilamowitz Moellendorf described him as "swimming in the thick of society, well known to both the Roman and Piedmontese aristocracy, to the connoisseurs of art and to dealers."

Martinetti's motive for selling fakes and smuggling was money. Like Helbig, he made a fortune, much of which he hid in his home. Caches of valuables--ancient and modern gold coins, and ancient gems--were found when it was torn down after his death. But why did Helbig, married to a wealthy Russian princess, need to sell forgeries?

With the fibula, self-advancement seems likely. Tom Hoving, who devotes an entire chapter to Helbig in False Impressions (1996), attributes the faking simply to needing more cash to support a lavish lifestyle. In his review of Bachelors of Art: Edward Perry Warren & the Lewes House Brotherhood (1992), William Calder speculates about Helbig's "frequent appearance" in Warren's circle. Born into a wealthy Massachusetts family, Warren lived in Oxford with his partner John Marshall at Lewes House, "where women were not welcomed." A collector, Warren also purchased for the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, where his brother chaired the board. The authenticity of number of antiquities he bought is now doubted. Calder speculates that paying blackmail, perhaps to hide sexual indiscretions, was a reason Helbig dealt in forgeries.

The Helbig-Martinetti collaboration continued until the latter's death in 1895, and then some (Gordon: 1982). When Martinetti was dying, Helbig went to his warehouse and took a statue of a youth, supposedly an ancient copy of a masterpiece by the Greek sculptor Polykleitos. He sold it to Carl Jacobsen, the Danish brewer and founder of the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek. The next year it was exposed as a fake (its "patina" washed off). The "Boston Throne" may be a genuine ancient marble relief or may be another Helbig-Martinetti fake, possibly carved in Rome in the early 1890s. Warren bought it for the Museum of Fine Arts from Helbig in 1896.

For nearly a century, the Praeneste fibula was seen as a key artifact. Now it has been revealed not as an ancient piece, made for or by Manios, but as a modern testament to self-promotion and an unholy alliance of scholarship and fraud, made for and by Helbig. It shows that artifacts with no documented findspot must be treated skeptically, no matter who presents them. Even great scholars can be wrong, misled, or, sometimes, go bad.

Come si vede, esiste una costante: chi s'accompagna disinvoltamente a falsari, o sostiene essere autentiche quelle opere che sono solamente falsi, prima o poi è smascherato come falsario anch'egli.

Ammesso che esista anche solo qualche analogia, che cosa si può pensare di persone che basano la propria costruzione ideologica sui falsi di Glozel e sui falsi di Trzicottu?

© 2009 by the Archaeological Institute of America
archive.archaeology.org/online/features/hoaxes/praeneste_fibula.html

Falsari NOTI e falsi DIMOSTRATI

Known archaeological forgers

• Alceo Dossena, 19th century creator of many Archaic and Medieval statues
• Shinichi Fujimura, who planted specimens on false layers to gain more prestige
• Brigido Lara, Mexican forger of pre-Columbian antiquities
• Shaun Greenhalgh, a prolific and versatile British forger, who with the help of his family forged Ancient Egyptian statues, Roman Silverware and Celtic gold jewelry among more modern artworks. Arrested in 2006 attempting to sell three Assyrian reliefs to the British Museum.
• Moses Shapira, purveyor of fake biblical artifacts
• Tjerk Vermaning, Dutch amateur archaeologist whose Middle Paleolithic finds were declared forgeries

Known archaeological forgeries and hoaxes

• Calaveras Skull
• Cardiff Giant
• Davenport Tablets
• "Egyptian mummy" ca. 1898 at the Old Capitol Museum, Jackson, MS
• Etruscan terracotta warriors in the Metropolitan Museum of Art
• Glozel tablets, bearing prehistoric writing
• Grave Creek Stone
• Japanese paleolithic hoax
• Michigan relics
• Persian Princess, forged ancient mummy, possible murder victim
• Piltdown Man
• Tiara of Saitaferne in Louvre
• The pieces "discovered" in 2006 in Iruña-Veleia

Una semplice lista, presa da WIKI. Ci sono però altri nomi che aspirano (inconsapevolmente, ma con indubbia pertinacia) ad essere aggiunti a questa lista già da tempo approvata: e sono certo del fatto che non tarderanno ad essere accontentati. Ci vorrà tempo e - probabilmente - qualche processo legale, che notoriamente prende molto tempo, in Italia. Ma accadrà, è sicuro.