Geoffrey of Monmouth thought it was a giant’s ring conjured by Merlin. John Aubrey claimed it was one of the “temples of the druids.” Another antiquarian suggested it was used for therapeutic mineral bathing—a kind of megalithic spa. William Blake praised these “precious unseen stones of Eden,” while JMW Turner painted it being dramatically struck by lightning. Nowadays it is a tourist site, enclosed by the traffic-chocked A303 and A344 and only fully open to revellers on the summer solstice. Over the centuries, the meaning of Stonehenge has been in the eye of its beholder.
The British Museum’s enthralling new exhibition The World of Stonehenge (open until 17th July) reveals that the monument’s meaning shifted even within its own early lifetime. It was around 5,000 years ago that a circular bank or ditch, known as a henge, appeared on Salisbury Plain. Fifty-six holes—named after Aubrey, who first noticed them in the 17th century—were dug around the inner ring of the henge. They were probably filled with bluestones hauled from a quarry 180 miles away in Mynydd Preseli, in western Wales.
These bluestones, an example of which is exhibited here, are made of spotted dolerite and evidently had some spiritual or ritual significance. Later, when they were removed, the Aubrey Holes were used to store the cremated bones of different people—some burned in Wales and brought down to the site. Also found was a lovely black mace head the size of a tennis ball, etched with banded swirls, that came from the Hebrides. Evidently this was a special space, less a spa and more a burial ground.
Little is known about the religious beliefs of the people who built Stonehenge. To give us a better idea, the exhibition ranges beyond Britain and back in time to 6,500 BC. The body of a woman discovered in Bad Dürrenberg in Germany was buried with roe-deer antlers and animal tusks—part of a headdress. Fascinatingly, forensics have revealed that her bones were malformed at the bottom of the skull, likely causing involuntary movements, double vision and fainting fits, leading perhaps to a career as a shaman.
More unusual hints of holiness come in the form of polished stone axe-heads, dozens of which are beautifully displayed here. They must have taken hundreds of hours to smooth down and shape with sand and water, and were practically useful to clear trees at sites like Stonehenge. One man was buried on Salisbury Plain around 2000 BC with a flint axe-head that was itself already 1,000 years old. Since he was likely a metalworker, it’s possible he still used the axe-head as a tool.
By this time, Stonehenge as we now know it had been completed. The bluestones had been brought into the centre of the circle, with gigantic columns of sarsen stone from nearby Marlborough Downs set up in their famous trilithon, or doorway, shape—as though guarding the ancient bluestones within. The megalith was also designed to align with the setting sun on the summer solstice above the Heel Stone, positioned outside the stone circle and now awkwardly abutting the A344.
For the farmers who built Stonehenge, the sun was the source of all nourishment in the world—no rays, no crops. The exhibition tries to convey that awe by projecting a rising and setting sun on the back wall of the final room. Over time, new metalworking skills brought to Britain by the Beaker people would make Stonehenge a less appealing place to interpret the heavens. The Nebra sky disc, made from European bronze and Cornish gold, is an astronomical instrument that was used to calculate the solstices, stamped with the sun, crescent moon and stars. In other words, it managed to do Stonehenge’s work, but in a more convenient, portable form.
This show, packed with intriguing and wonderful objects, is let down at points by feeling too congested—the wooden Seahenge brought down from Norfolk isn’t displayed in a proper circle—and lacks the evocation of sacred space.
Except with the last object. The gorgeous shimmering Shropshire sun pendant (circa 1000 BC), discovered by a lucky detectorist in 2018, allowed the holder to absorb the sun’s magical properties by hanging it close to their body. If you stand behind it and wait, the pendant lines up with the projected sun on the back wall. For a glorious moment the sun and gold meld into one glowing orb. Or at least, that’s what I saw.
