Embarking on a garden renovation often unearths fragmented ceramic pieces and ancient statuary overgrown with vegetation. For one couple, however, this experience, reminiscent of an archaeological expedition, culminated in a genuine discovery.
Initially, the marble tablet inscribed with Latin, which included the phrase “spirits of the dead,” could have been mistaken for a mass-produced imitation intended to impart a touch of decorative grandeur to a garden.
However, for anthropologist Daniella Santoro, who resides with her spouse Aaron Lopez in a historic residence in New Orleans’ Carrollton district, the artifact, discovered partially submerged in dense foliage, triggered a heightened sense of awareness. Her initial apprehension was that they might have unearthed an ancient burial site.
“The presence of Latin was certainly what gave us pause, wouldn’t you agree?” Santoro conveyed to the Associated Press. “One encounters something of that nature and realizes, ‘This is unequivocally not an ordinary object.'”
Rather than dismissing this intuition, Santoro sought the counsel of specialists. Among the experts who meticulously examined the inscription were Susann Lusnia, an archaeologist affiliated with Tulane University, and D. Ryan Gray, an anthropologist from the University of New Orleans, who subsequently disseminated the information about the find to their peers.
It was not long before the researchers definitively identified the nature of the couple’s discovery.
The inscription commences with the Latin phrase Dis Manibus, translating to “to the spirits of the dead.” This was a prevalent inscription found on Roman funerary markers. Within the context of Roman burial customs, Dis Manibus served as a customary dedication to the departed souls, frequently inscribed at the apex of tombstones. Numerous such inscriptions have been preserved throughout the former Roman Empire.
Further deciphering of the text revealed that the stone commemorated a Roman legionary, identified as Sextus Congenius Verus, a Thracian by origin. Commissioned by his surviving relatives, Atilius Carus and Vettius Longinus, the grave marker indicates that he passed away at the age of 42, after completing 22 years of military service. This occurred approximately 1,900 years prior to Santoro and Lopez’s discovery of his grave marker in an overgrown garden, situated across a vast geographical distance.
Remarkably, this was not the initial record pertaining to the stone. In the early 20th century, it was cataloged as part of the holdings of the National Archaeological Museum of Civitavecchia, Italy, a coastal community where the grave marker was once situated in a modest cemetery.
During extensive Allied aerial bombardments in 1943 and 1944, the museum sustained significant damage, resulting in the loss or displacement of numerous artifacts. Across the European continent, wartime destruction and pillaging led to the dispersal of countless cultural relics, many of which remain unlocated decades later.
The gravestone was subsequently listed among the missing items. Its precise dimensions, as meticulously recorded by the museum, corresponded precisely with those of the tablet unearthed in the garden belonging to Santoro and Lopez.
The precise trajectory of the stone’s journey from wartime Italy to suburban Louisiana constitutes an equally captivating narrative. According to Erin Scott O’Brien, the previous occupant of the Carrollton residence, the tablet had been displayed within a cabinet housing other family heirlooms at the Gentilly home of her grandfather, Charles Paddock Jr., who was a service member stationed in Italy during World War II.
Paddock Jr. and his wife passed away in the 1980s. When O’Brien took up residence in the home in the early 2000s, her mother presented her with the stone as a gift.
“We planted a tree, signifying the commencement of our new home, and decided to place it outdoors in our garden,” O’Brien recounted to Preservation in Print. “At the time, I perceived it merely as an artistic piece. I had no inkling it was a relic dating back two millennia.”
Over eighty years have elapsed since the museum that formerly housed this relic was ravaged by conflict, and the primary individuals involved in this unusual sequence of events are deceased. It is highly improbable that the definitive account of how Paddock acquired possession of the stone will ever be fully elucidated. However, perhaps the most significant aspect is its eventual return to its homeland—the empire that Sextus Congenius Verus served with such unwavering dedication.
The FBI’s Art Crime Team is actively facilitating its repatriation to the National Archaeological Museum of Civitavecchia.
