In search of the prehistoric feminine 

Four weeks ago, I visited Laténium, a museum in the heartland of Celtic Switzerland, mainly because I wanted to admire a tiny statue some 12,000 to 13,000 years old. Nicknamed the Venus of Monruz after the place where it was found in the canton of Neuchâtel and in keeping with similar findings of female figures dating from the prehistory in Europe, called Venuses (click here for a list), this statue is the earliest representation of a woman to have been discovered in this country. Although I got to see pictures of this statue not long after it was discovered in 1991, it was only after having watched a BBC documentary on YouTube by the English historian Bettany Hughes and after having become fascinated with her feminist interpretation* of the archaeological site of Gobekli Tepe in Turkey that I felt I really had to see this beautiful artefact from the Magdalenian period for myself – even if only through the (glass) protection of a museum's exhibit case.

Unfortunately for me, I did not get to see this early representation of a prehistoric woman: for some reason, it was not displayed in Laténium's rooms on the prehistoric period in Neuchâtel and, strangely, the staff whom I had queried about the statue at the ticket counter before making my way into the temporary exhibition on Nubian Egypt did not know about it either. As I had in all only 90 minutes to visit Laténium and make my way back to the railway station so as to meet my wife (we would then head to Sugiez, canton of Fribourg), I was unable to find out what had happened to this artefact which seems to have come out of the studio of some post WWII sculptor in Europe – I am sure that Arp or even Brancúsi would have felt some degree of affinity with the Venus of Monruz. By the way, the last part of my little outing in the heartland of the Three Lakes proved rewarding in that this region's affiliation with its Celtic past is manifest to the discerning eye – if only with respect to the names of places (e.g. Lugnorre) – even though nearly two thousand years have passed since the Celts were assimilated in the Roman empire!

However, it is important to note that the people who carved the Venus of Monruz had probably very, very little in common with the Celts. Even if these prehistoric inhabitants of the shores of Lake Neuchâtel might have been the latter's very, very far-distant ancestors, one should keep in mind that, historically, both groups are separated from one another by almost SIX times the two millennia that separate us (yes, you and me, dear reader) from the Celts!

Still, to me both peoples share what I interpret as a feminine trait in their respective cultures, which I reckon is in sheer contrast to, say, the Romans or, I am afraid to have to say, even us – despite being in the 21st century – given that there are not many societies, countries or places where women enjoy full parity with men in their daily lives, be this from a socio-economic perspective or whatever else criterion you may choose to use. I still have to write to Laténium to enquire about the whereabouts of the Venus of Monruz; only then can I start planning a new trip to the Three Lake region. Before doing so, maybe a visit to Geneva's Musée d'art et d'histoire (a museum where I spent many an hour in my early teenage years) to see their prehistoric and Celtic collections would be a good way to put myself in the right state of mind.

In the meantime, I guess I shall leave you with this quotation from the Roman historian Tacitus, who in his biography of his father in law, De vita et moribus Iulii Agricolae, XVI, explains to his contemporaries how come the leader of the British Celts, Queen Boudicea, was a woman, ‘for they admit no distinction of sex in their royal successions’: ‘Boudicca generis regii femina duce (neque enim sexum in imperiis discernunt)’.

* This prompted me to look up more information on the Internet as well as run keyword searches in the online catalogues of the library of the University of Lausanne. As a result, I discovered the work of the Lithuanian scholar Marija Gimbutas, in particular ‘The Language of the Goddess’, and I even listened to one of her conferences on the same web channel and not only did I borrow but I read (from cover to cover) a fascinating essay (‘Avant les Dieux,la Mère universelle’) by a French sociologist/anthropologist/philosopher, Françoise Gange, who reaches a conclusion similar to that of the English historian mentioned in my introduction by looking at ancient myths from an anthropological perspective).


Lausanne, 24th May 2015