This lovely hedgehog is part of a group of objects dating to the Middle Elamite Period (1500-1200 BC) found in 1904 by Jacques de Morgan in the ancient city of Susa in what is now Iran, referred to by the Louvre as the Temple of Inshushinak Cache. The group includes another wonderful animal on a wheeled platform (take a look at this beautiful lion), bronze statuettes, jewellery, gold ingots, and, interestingly, fragments of board games, called “the game of 58 holes”
They were gathered in the late second millennium BC in a sort of hiding place – the collection has been interpreted as a possible foundation deposit related to the Inshushinak sanctuary, or an offering made to the sanctuary, or possibly the furnishings of a plundered royal tomb (see more information on this here).
Other animal figures made of terracotta have been found in ancient Susa, like this one also at the Louvre – in this case the wheels are incorporated into the design of the object.
There are differing opinions regarding whether these were toys or ‘votive carts’, although as the Louvre points out, “a toy could become an offering, dedicated to a divinity or buried alongside a deceased person”. While I was pondering this point, I remembered how there was a running joke when I studied archaeology – if in doubt, state the use of an ancient object as ‘possibly ritual’. I recall a friend remarking that if one were to analyse the bottom of the Thames River 2000 years from now, with no historical records or other material evidence to fall back on, someone would surely come up with a theory that we ritually threw ‘chariots’ (supermarket trolleys) into the river in honour of a deity, possibly named Asda or Tesco. It was funny because it rang true.
Jokes aside, of course we do not know for sure what these animal figures were used for, and they may well have been used as ritual objects, but what exactly does that mean? I am not really referring to this hedgehog – my knowledge of Ancient Iran is non-existent –, but rather to our relationship with ourselves, our behaviour, our past, and what we perceive as being worthy of note. It is interesting to me that ritual sometimes appears to be talked of as a distinct type of behaviour, separate from ‘normal life’. In reality, however, we are aware that ritual can be fully integrated into daily life – play can be a ritual; food can be a ritual; storytelling is usually ritualistic and playful. Objects can serve and represent many things at once.
My meandering thoughts led me to look at the interesting ‘Ritual, Play and Belief, in Evolution and Early Human Societies’ (ed. by Renfrew, Morley & Boyd, 2017), and to read Renfrew’s thoughts on play as the precursor of ritual in early societies (see introduction), as well as other scholars’ thoughts on how play, ritual and belief relate to each other.
I tried to identify what I find appealing about this hedgehog. Firstly, I like that he is a little too small for the cart – there are little holes into which he slots, but then the platform has some further holes in it, further back. According to the museum, both the lion and the hedgehog originally had added elements (eyes, ears, and tail, in the case of the lion) that were likely made of a different material. These have been lost, but they also mention the little hollows “for two small hedgehogs” – I am unsure as to how we know about the existence of these, as there is no more information provided, but I like the incompleteness of the hedgehog and its cart, because it is lived-in and holds a story.
Secondly, the design condenses ‘hedgehog-ness’ in a wonderfully modern, simplified way. In fact, it occurred to me that I often describe something as ‘modern’ when what I really mean is that it communicates something so effectively and succinctly that it is timeless.
When I wrote about the De Stijl wheelbarrow, I mentioned that it was, in effect, the distilled essence of a wheelbarrow – lines, planes, a wheel. In some ways I feel similarly about this hedgehog.
Its spikes could have been depicted as rough long lines along its back, but the maker chose to make them into a regular, even grid, with little protruding cubes. Its feet are broad, regular, and smooth, with no sign of fingers. Its eyes are perfectly round. To me, it looks like a contemporary children’s illustration of a hedgehog made into limestone.
It is striking to read how small it is, only 6.8 cm high, and 5.5 cm long.
Those are beautifully crafted wheels on the bitumen platform – purposely designed and patiently carved. The platforms for the lion and the hedgehog look like they were made by the same person, or at least the same workshop. When I first glanced at them, I had not appreciated that the carts were separate objects paired up with the figures – for a moment, I even assumed that they had just been created at a much later date to demonstrate how the figures might have been used. The bitumen has survived so well it seems hard to believe that it is more than 3000 years old – and the same can be said for the limestone figures, especially the hedgehog.
In my research, I was delighted to see that a contemporary French artisan toymaker, Pierre Vignaud, includes a wooden version of this hedgehog in his repertoire of handmade toys, which features reproductions of historical playthings.
Perhaps what draws me most to our friend here is a desire to see him in action. I would very much like to trundle this little hedgehog along my corridor, up and down, several times in a row, and pretend he is my pet.