Greek Art in Motion: Studies in honour of Sir John Boardman on the occasion of his 90th Birthday 9781789690231, 9781789690248

Table of contents :
Cover
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Preface
John Boardman and Greek Sculpture
Olga Palagia
Sanctuaries and the Hellenistic polis: an architectural approach
Milena Melfi
‘Even the fragments, however, merit scrutiny’
‘Even the fragments, however, merit scrutiny’:1 ancient terracottas in the field and the museum
Lucilla Burn
The Good, the Bad, and the Misleading. A Network of Names on (mainly) Athenian Vases.
Thomas Mannack
Studying gems: Collectors and Scholars
Claudia Wagner
Sculpture
Godlike Images. Priestesses in Greek Sculpture
Iphigeneia Leventi
The nude Constantinople. Masterpieces of Greek sculpture at Byzantium according to the Greek Anthology1
Ornaments or amulets: a peculiar jewel on dedicatory statues
Olympia Bobou
Architecture
Greek Emporios in Chios
Kokona Roungou and Eleni Vouligea
Temples with a Double Cella
New Thoughts on a Little-Known Type of Temple
Ugo Fusco
Terracotas and Metal
Images of Dionysos, Images for Dionysos: The God’s Terracottas at Cycladic Sanctuaries
Erica Angliker1
An Unusual Sympotic Scene on a Silver Cup from Ancient Thrace: Questions of Iconography and Manufacture
Amalia Avramidou1
Forgeries in a museum: a new approach to ancient Greek pottery
Claudina Romero Mayorga1
Beyond trade: the presence of Archaic and Classical Greek Bronze Vessels in the Northern Black Sea area
Chiara Tarditi
Greek Pottery
Makron’s Eleusinian Mysteries: Vase-Painting, Myth, and Dress in Late Archaic Greece
Anthony Mangieri
Timagoras: an Athenian Potter to be Rediscovered
Christine Walter
Revisiting a Plate in the Ashmolean Museum:A new interpretation
Marianne Bergeron
The Greek pottery of the Tagus estuary
Ana Margarida Arruda and Elisa de Sousa
Vases on Vases. An Overview of Approaches
Konstantina Tsonaka
Intriguing Objects of Desire: Collecting Greek Vases, a Short History Unfolded
Daniela Freitas Ferreira1
Youth in an enclosed context: new notes on the Attic pottery from the Iberian Tútugi necropolis (Granada, Galera)
Carmen Rueda1 and Ricardo Olmos2
An overview of Brazilian Studies on Greek Pottery: tradition and future perspectives
Carolina Kesser Barcellos Dias1 and Camila Diogo de Souza2
Coins
Sculptures and coins. A contextual case study from Side
Alice Landskron1
The romanitas of Mark Antony’s eastern coins
João Paulo Simões Valério1
War and Numismatics in Greek Sicily: Two sides of the same coin
José Miguel Puebla Morón
Iconography of Poseidon in the Greek coin
María Rodríguez López
The Silver Akragatine Tetradrachms with quadriga: A New Catalogue1
Viviana Lo Monaco2
Gems and Glass
Why was Actaeon punished? Reading and seeing the evolution of a myth
José Malheiro Magalhães1
Greek Myth on Magical Gems: Survivals and Revivals
Paolo Vitellozzi
From routine to reconstruction
Susan Walker1
Greek History and Archaeology
The Database of the Iberia Graeca Centre
Xavier Aquilué, Paloma Cabrera and Pol Carreras
The Greeks overseas: a bioarchaeological approach
Tasos Zisis and Christina Papageorgopoulou
The Messenian island of Prote and its relation to navigation in Greece and the Mediterranean
Stamatis A. Fritzilas1
Naukratis - Yet Again
Astrid Möller
The Tomb of the Roaring Lions at Veii: Its Relation to Greek Geometric and Early Orientalizing Art
Gabriele Koiner
Perserschutt in Eretria? Pottery from a pit in the Agora
Tamara Saggini1
Greeks Overseas
A Bridge to Overseas
Chiara Maria Mauro1
Gandharan Odalisque: Mounted Nereids on Gandharan Stone Palettes
SeungJung Kim
The Attic Pottery from the Persephoneion of Locri Epizefiri between Ritual Practices and Worship
Elvia Giudice and Giada Giudice
Was Knossos a home for Phoenician traders?
Judith Muñoz Sogas1
Greek Divine Cures Overseas: Italian Realisations of the Greek Paradigm
Lidia Ożarowska1
Reception and Collecting
Wine and blood?
Nuno Resende
Pavlovsk Imperial villa and its collections: from the first stage of antiquities collecting and archaeology in Russia
Anastasia Bukina and Anna Petrakova
Art and Myth
Greek Myths Abroad
Valeria Riedemann Lorca
Karolina Sekita
Orphica non grata?
Geryon in Tatarli1
Malcolm Davies
New Identifications of Heroes and Heroines on the West Pediment of the Parthenon: The Case of P, Q, and R
Ioannis Mitsios
A new Sicilian curse corpus: blueprint for a geographical - chronological analysis of defixiones from Sicily
Thea Sommerschield1
Once again: A sacrificing goddess. Demeter - what´s up with her attribute?
Maria Christidis1 and Heinrike Dourdoumas2

Citation preview

Greek Art in Motion Studies in honour of Sir John Boardman on the occasion of his 90th birthday edited by

Rui Morais Delfim Leão Diana Rodríguez Pérez with

Daniela Ferreira

Greek Art in Motion Studies in honour of Sir John Boardman ​on the occasion of his 90th birthday

edited by

Rui Morais, Delfim Leão, Diana Rodríguez Pérez with

Daniela Ferreira

Archaeopress Archaeology

Archaeopress Publishing Ltd Summertown Pavilion 18-24 Middle Way Summertown Oxford OX2 7LG www.archaeopress.com

ISBN 978 1 78969 023 1 ISBN 978 1 78969 024 8 (e-Pdf)

© Archaeopress and the individual authors 2019

Cover: Head of Alexander in profile. Tourmaline intaglio, 25 x 25 mm, Ashmolean (1892.1499) G.J. Chester Bequest. Photo: C. Wagner.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owners.

This book is available direct from Archaeopress or from our website www.archaeopress.com

Contents

Preface����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������1 John Boardman and Greek Sculpture�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������3 Olga Palagia Sanctuaries and the Hellenistic Polis: An Architectural Approach�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������14 Milena Melfi ‘Even the fragments, however, merit scrutiny’: Ancient Terracottas in the Field and the Museum��������������������������������23 Lucilla Burn The Good, the Bad, and the Misleading: A Network of Names on (Mainly) Athenian Vases.��������������������������������������������31 Thomas Mannack Studying Gems: Collectors and Scholars����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������37 Claudia Wagner Buildings and History���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������46 P. J. Rhodes John Boardman at 90: ‘New’ Archaeology or ‘Old’? Confessions of a Crypto-Archaeologist��������������������������������������������55 Paul Cartledge Some Recent Developments in the Study of Greeks Overseas��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������59 Gocha R. Tsetskhladze

Sculpture Godlike Images: Priestesses in Greek Sculpture�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������69 Iphigeneia Leventi The Nude Constantinople: Masterpieces of Greek Sculpture at Byzantium according to the Greek Anthology��������������������� 78 Carlos A. Martins de Jesus Ornaments or Amulets: A Peculiar Jewel on Dedicatory Statues���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������85 Olympia Bobou

Architecture Greek Emporios in Chios: The Archaeological Data from the Excavations of the Last Decades����������������������������������������93 Kokona Roungou and Eleni Vouligea Temples with a Double Cella: New Thoughts on a Little-Known Type of Temple������������������������������������������������������������ 106 Ugo Fusco

i

Terracotas and Metal Images of Dionysos, Images for Dionysos: The God’s Terracottas at Cycladic Sanctuaries��������������������������������������������� 115 Erica Angliker An Unusual Sympotic Scene on a Silver Cup from Ancient Thrace: Questions of Iconography and Manufacture��������� 127 Amalia Avramidou Forgeries in a Museum: A New Approach to Ancient Greek Pottery������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 136 Claudina Romero Mayorga Beyond Trade: The presence of Archaic and Classical Greek Bronze Vessels in the Northern Black Sea Area�������������� 139 Chiara Tarditi

Greek Pottery Makron’s Eleusinian Mysteries: Vase-Painting, Myth, and Dress in Late Archaic Greece���������������������������������������������� 153 Anthony Mangieri Timagoras: An Athenian Potter to be Rediscovered�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 164 Christine Walter Revisiting a Plate in the Ashmolean Museum: A New Interpretation������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 174 Marianne Bergeron The Greek Pottery of the Tagus Estuary��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 185 Ana Margarida Arruda and Elisa de Sousa Vases on Vases: An Overview of Approaches������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 194 Konstantina Tsonaka Intriguing Objects of Desire: Collecting Greek Vases, a Short History Unfolded������������������������������������������������������������ 204 Daniela Freitas Ferreira Youth in an Enclosed Context: New Notes on the Attic Pottery from the Iberian Tútugi Necropolis (Granada, Galera)���� 212 Carmen Rueda and Ricardo Olmos An Overview of Brazilian Studies on Greek Pottery: Tradition and Future Perspectives����������������������������������������������� 226 Carolina Kesser Barcellos Dias and Camila Diogo de Souza

Coins Sculptures and Coins: A Contextual Case Study from Side���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 239 Alice Landskron The Romanitas of Mark Antony’s Eastern Coins���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 249 João Paulo Simões Valério War and Numismatics in Greek Sicily: Two Sides of the Same Coin�������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 259 José Miguel Puebla Morón

ii

Iconography of Poseidon in Greek Coinage���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 264 María Rodríguez López The Silver Akragatine Tetradrachms with Quadriga: A New Catalogue��������������������������������������������������������������������������� 276 Viviana Lo Monaco

Gems and Glass Why was Actaeon Punished? Reading and Seeing the Evolution of a Myth��������������������������������������������������������������������� 287 José Malheiro Magalhães Greek Myth on Magical Gems: Survivals and Revivals����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 299 Paolo Vitellozzi From Routine to Reconstruction��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������311 Susan Walker

Greek History and Archaeology The Database of the Iberia Graeca Centre������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 325 Xavier Aquilué, Paloma Cabrera and Pol Carreras The Greeks Overseas: A Bioarchaeological Approach������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 335 Tasos Zisis and Christina Papageorgopoulou The Messenian Island of Prote and its Relation to Navigation in Greece and the Mediterranean���������������������������������� 343 Stamatis A. Fritzilas Naukratis - Yet Again��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������355 Astrid Möller The Tomb of the Roaring Lions at Veii: Its Relation to Greek Geometric and Early Orientalizing Art��������������������������� 358 Gabriele Koiner Perserschutt in Eretria? Pottery from a Pit in the Agora�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 366 Tamara Saggini

Greeks Overseas A Bridge to Overseas: Insight into the geomorphology, harbourworks and harbour layouts of the Archaic and Classical Greek harbours�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������377 Chiara Maria Mauro Gandharan Odalisque: Mounted Nereids on Gandharan Stone Palettes�������������������������������������������������������������������������� 386 SeungJung Kim The Attic Pottery from the Persephoneion of Locri Epizefiri between Ritual Practices and Worship���������������������������� 396 Elvia Giudice and Giada Giudice Was Knossos a Home for Phoenician Traders?����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 408 Judith Muñoz Sogas

iii

Greek Divine Cures Overseas: Italian Realisations of the Greek Paradigm����������������������������������������������������������������������417 Lidia Ożarowska

Reception and Collecting Wine and Blood? Dionysus, Other Gods and Heroes in a Catholic Chapel of Britiande (Lamego, Portugal)�������������������431 Nuno Resende Pavlovsk Imperial Villa and its Collections: From the First Stage of Antiquities Collecting and Archaeology in Russia���441 Anastasia Bukina and Anna Petrakova

Art and Myth Greek Myths Abroad: A Comparative, Iconographic Study of Their Funerary Uses in Ancient Italy�����������������������������455 Valeria Riedemann Lorca Orphica Non Grata? Underworld Palace Scenes on Apulian Red-Figure Pottery Revisited��������������������������������������������465 Karolina Sekita Geryon in Tatarli���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������473 Malcolm Davies New Identifications of Heroes and Heroines on the West Pediment of the Parthenon: The Case of P, Q, and R������������480 Ioannis Mitsios A New Sicilian Curse Corpus: A Blueprint for a Geographical and Chronological Analysis of Defixiones from Sicily�����489 Thea Sommerschield Once Again: A Sacrificing Goddess. Demeter - What´s up with her Attribute?����������������������������������������������������������������502 Maria Christidis and Heinrike Dourdoumas

iv

Preface New findings, both in mainland Greece and abroad, in regions directly or indirectly linked with the Greeks, offer an excellent ground to broaden our horizons and reframe old research questions. The encounter of Greeks and indigenous populations near colonization areas had varying effects in every instance, the knowledge of which opens new paths for research and raises awareness about the material culture of the ancient world, an interest visible across the works of Sir John. The papers featured in this volume represent different approaches to a variety of problems posed by the study of Greek Art. The interdisciplinary nature of these approaches lead to fruitful and lively debate throughout.

In the current volume are collected the proceedings of ‘Greek Art in Motion,’ an international conference held in Lisbon at the Calouste Gulbenkian Foundation on May 3–5, 2017, as a Festschrift for Sir John Boardman, a token of the esteem in which the scholarly world holds him. John Boardman, Emeritus Lincoln Professor of Classical Archaeology and Art at the University of Oxford, has published many seminal works, which will remain as a reference for current and future generations of scholars around the world. They address a variety of subjects and, above all, they demonstrate the longevity and beauty of Classical art, being a source of inspiration for junior and senior researchers alike and considerably increasing our knowledge of the ancient world.

It is also a pleasure to be able to add to the present volume the database of the Iberia Graeca Centre. This Centre is an organisation that has been created to develop projects on research, documentation, conservation and the dissemination of the Greek archaeological heritage of the Iberian Peninsula.

His activities as a scholar and teacher distinguish him as an outstanding interpreter of Classical art and its reception. John Boardman is that kind of rare Hellenist, even-handed and open-minded, who always demonstrated a generosity toward his students, colleagues and other renowned scholars. He has been, for almost seven decades of intensive work, such a special and consistent exemplar of fruitful production.

Debts of gratitude are owed to many people and institutions which helped us to mount such a successful conference: the Centre for Classical and Humanistic Studies, the Universities of Coimbra, Porto and Lisbon, the Iberia Graeca Centre, the Calouste Gulbenkian Foundation (Lisbon), the D. Diogo de Sousa Archaeological Museum (Braga), and the Hotel da Estrela (Lisbon).

A brief explanation of the title is in order. The choice of the phrase ‘in motion’ is meant to serve as metaphor for the dynamic and fluid nature of the field of Greek art. This volume hopes to showcase this kinetic aspect through the valuable contributions that a panoply of scholars have assembled to celebrate our eminent honoree.

On behalf of all authors, we would like to acknowledge the generosity of numerous colleagues throughout the world who have been generous in providing access to documents, photographs and information, and in granting permissions which accompany some of the studies presented within.

The conference attracted a large audience over four days, including scholars, students from the Academy and other non-specialists from all over the world. In the first part of this work, some contributions from the keynote speakers feature, who, as friends and/or former students of Sir John, formulate a debate and problematisation of Greek art from both archaeological and historical standpoints.

The editors also wish to give special thanks to all the keynote speakers for their constant assistance and counsel, particularly in reading contributions to the volume and reviewing them.

Professor Emeritus Olga Palagia, University of Athens Professor Emeritus Paul Cartledge, University of Cambridge

A large part of the proofs of these proceedings were generously corrected by David Wallace-Hare, PhD candidate of Classics at the University of Toronto, to whom we would like to express our gratitude.

Professor Emeritus Peter John Rhodes, University of Durham Professor Emeritus Lucilla Burn, University of Durham Dr Thomas Mannack, University of Oxford

Finally, it is a pleasure to thank Archaeopress and especially David Davison for their support of the publication of these proceedings in honour of Sir John Boardman.

Dr Claudia Wagner, University of Oxford Dr Gocha R. Tsetskhladze, Editor of the Ancient West and East Journal Dr Milena Melfi, University of Oxford

The Editors,

In the second part, there are nearly 50 studies, divided thematically, which touch upon the salient subject areas of Sir John’s oeuvre: Sculpture, Architecture, Terracotta and Metal, Greek Pottery, Coins, Greek History and Archaeology, Greeks Overseas, Reception and Collecting, Art and Myth.

Rui Morais, Delfim Leão, and Diana Rodríguez Pérez, with Daniela Ferreira Porto, Coimbra, and Oxford, October 2018

1

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John Boardman and Greek Sculpture Olga Palagia I am most grateful to the organizers of this conference for inviting me to participate in the celebration of my teacher’s 90th birthday. I cannot even begin to enumerate his achievements. As you well know, John Boardman has mastered a great number of fields, from early Greek art1 to Chinese bronzes.2 He is driven by curiosity, being always ready to take on new challenges and expand his horizons. Even though Greek gems3 and the diffusion of Greek art east and west4 have been his dominant interests, his contribution to the study and understanding of Greek sculpture has had an impact on the field for he has brought to it an open mind, approaching it from a different perspective and illuminating it with his expertise in other art forms.

into new fields, looking away from early Greece which he had mastered to perfection, into the art of Athens which was still considered the crowning glory of classical archaeology. We have come a long way since then but those were the days of innocence. Boardman’s theory was highly original and it was sprung upon an unsuspecting world. The lecture was published in 1977.5 The argument, however, was taken up again and refined in the proceedings of the Parthenon Congress in Basel.6 The frieze presents the modern viewer with a number of riddles. Boardman focused on two fundamental questions. Does the frieze break the rule of showing only gods and heroes on sacred buildings? Does it really depict a religious festival enacted by contemporary Athenians as so many scholars have assumed beginning with Stuart and Revett?7 And if it represents the Panathenaic procession, where are the hoplites? Why do we see so many horsemen (Figure 1) and chariots (Figure 2) instead of foot soldiers? He pointed out that ‘…there is no parallel on a Greek temple, before or after, for the depiction of contemporary mortals in such a setting, conducting a peaceful, non-heroic activity... There is no heroic implication in a procession to dedicate and sacrifice; but there is in the cavalcade.’8 He went on to suggest that the military on the frieze, not only the knights and the apobates jumping up and down their chariots but also their teenage grooms may be understood as the heroic Athenians who had fought and died in the battle of Marathon

His interest in Greek sculpture dates from the 1970s. It seems to have begun with a reconsideration of the problems posed by the interpretations of the Parthenon frieze. He has left his mark on this as on all other tasks he has undertaken. It is my special pleasure and privilege to say a few words about my teacher’s achievements in the field of Greek sculpture before we go on asking ourselves where do we go from here. John Boardman first aired his thoughts on the Parthenon frieze in a lecture given at the Institute of Classical Studies in London on November 15, 1975, when it was still housed in Gordon Square. I was a graduate student in Oxford at the time and went down to London to hear him. He was venturing

Figure 1. Parthenon, North frieze XXXVII-XXXVIII. London, British Museum. Photo: Olga Palagia. Boardman 1967; Boardman 1998. Boardman 2010. 3  See the contribution of Claudia Wagner in this volume. 4  Boardman 1994; Boardman 1999; Boardman 2015.

Boardman 1977. Boardman 1984. 7  Stuart and Revett 1787, 12. 8  Boardman 1984, 214.

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Greek Art in Motion. Studies in honour of Sir John Boardman ​on the occasion of his 90th birthday

Figure 2. Parthenon, North frieze XII. London, British Museum. Photo: Olga Palagia. in August 490 just before the celebration of the Panathenaia. The Marathon dead became the recipients of cult and as such may well be depicted on the frieze imparting to it an intimation of divinity, for the festival is no longer enacted by mortals. He even counted the soldiers on the frieze, excluding the charioteers, and found that their number corresponds exactly to the number of Athenians killed at Marathon, 192. He concluded, however, that classical art historians will be suspicious of such a numerate answer and will continue to search for the truth, which can only be established by the discovery of a text. His theory cannot actually be disproved to this day. As Boardman himself succinctly put it, ‘The argument is not capable of proof. One might add that it is not capable of disproof…’9

child’s neck and on the garment open on the side which could be understood as a peplos. Boardman identified her as an arrhephoros, for which she has the right age, for they served Athena between the ages of 7 and 11, and were involved with the making of Athena’s peplos, whereas there are no records of boys connected with Athena’s sacred garments.12 In his contribution to Kanon in honour of Ernst Berger, Boardman returned to the issue, introducing the argument of anatomy in favour of the female sex of the child, and pointed out that she is probably handing the new peplos to the archon basileus in anticipation of its transport to the Acropolis.13 In response to criticism from C. Clairmont regarding the nudity of the child’s bottom, exposed by the open garment, which would be inappropriate for a girl, Boardman pointed to a fifth-century grave relief of a girl wearing a peplos and holding two doves in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where the girl’s bottom is also visible.14 He also anticipated further criticism of the oddity of the child’s peplos opening on the left instead of the right, by pointing out that the peplos of the running figure G of the east pediment of the Parthenon, also opens on the left.

A side issue he discussed alongside the main problem of the cavalcade is the question ‘boy or girl?’ regarding the child assisting the archon basileus to handle Athena’s peplos in the centre of the east frieze (Figure 3). This child was initially recognized as a girl by Stuart and Revett10 but was afterwards perceived as a boy. Boardman reprised the suggestion put forward by his colleague in Oxford, Martin Robertson,11 that the child must be a girl rather than a boy. Robertson’s argument was based on the Venus rings on the

The debate about the figure’s sex continues unabated to this day.15 Key to the solution is, I think, still the garment. Further Boardman 1977, 41; Boardman 1984, 214. Boardman 1988. 14  Boardman 1991. 15  Neils (2001, 169-171) argues in favour of a boy. 12 

Boardman 1977, 48. 10  Stuart and Revett 1787, 12, pl. 23. 11  Robertson 1975, commentary to East V, 31-5. 9 

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Olga Palagia – John Boardman and Greek Sculpture

Boardman investigated Pandora’s imagery on Attic vase-painting of the fifth century, focusing on a volute krater in Oxford (Figure 5), where Pandora rises from the ground like an earth goddess, and came to the conclusion that Pandora in the Parthenon was seen as an all-giver, a blessing rather than a bane. He argued that Hesiod’s view of Pandora did not correspond to what the Athenians made of her both in their visual arts and in cult. He pointed out that Philochoros’ remark that every time a cow is sacrificed to Athena, a sheep is offered to Pandora, shows that she was worshipped as a goddess. In poorer manuscripts of Philochoros’ text, Pandrosos is substituted for Pandora, thus obscuring the issue. As chance would have it, when Boardman was working on his Pandora theory, I independently came to a similar conclusion on the benign nature of Pandora.19 Rather than dissociate her from Hesiod, I associated her with his Catalogue of Women, where she is seen as the primeval woman and creator of mankind. We no longer attribute Catalogue of Women to Hesiod, but fifthcentury Athenians thought it was his, and it conveniently provided them with an appropriate tradition on which to build a favourable view of Pandora, Athena’s Figure 3. Parthenon, East frieze V. London, British Museum. Photo: Olga Palagia. and Hephaistos’ creation, progenitor of the Greek race and by implication a civilizing force of all Greece. Even though we only learned argument against a peplos is the length of the garment of each other’s work when we exchanged offprints, the two which stops short of the ankles and would therefore be more articles complement one another reinforcing the argument appropriate for a boy. In an article published on the occasion in favour of the benevolent nature of Pandora thus explaining of Boardman’s 80th birthday, I resumed the argument, her inclusion in the statue base of the Athena Parthenos. suggesting the possibility that the dress is not a peplos but an over-garment (diplax) with a chiton painted underneath, Boardman’s sculpture studies also comprise a marble which would indeed suggest a girl. A classical grave relief sculpture in his home ground of the Ashmolean Museum, from Thebes provides a parallel showing a girl whose garment Oxford. In ‘The amazon’s belt,’ published in 1980,20 his keen is part modelled in stone, part painted.16 eye detected an oddity in the belt worn by an amazon torso in the Ashmolean Museum (Figure 6). The statuary type is Boardman picked up again the thread of Parthenon known as the Berlin-Lansdowne Amazon named after two scholarship with an article in the Festschrift for Olga of the best preserved copies, and is usually attributed to the Alexandri.17 ‘Pandora in the Parthenon – a grace to mortals’ fifth-century master, Kresilas.21 By comparing her belt to questions the received opinion that the creation of Pandora horse reins in Attic vase-painting, Boardman proved that it is by Hephaistos and Athena on the statue base of Pheidias’ in fact a horse bit, thus establishing the Amazon’s identity as Athena Parthenos inside the Parthenon is an illustration a horse woman. of divine hostility to mortals since Pandora, according to Hesiod’s Works and Days and Theogony, was destined to wreak From 1978 to 1995 John Boardman produced three handbooks havoc on mankind. A reduced fragmentary copy of Pheidias’ on Greek sculpture. They were written in chronological order, statue base found in Pergamon (Figure 4)18 shows Pandora the first dealing with the archaic period,22 the second with as an inanimate figure in the middle, being endowed with the classical period23 and the third with the late classical gifts by the Graces, Athena, Hephaistos and the other gods. Palagia 2000, 60-62. Boardman 1980. 21  Bol 1998, 36-49; 171, 8.1 (Typus Sciarra). 22  Boardman 1978. 23  Boardman 1985.

Palagia 2008. Boardman 2001. 18  Berlin, Pergamonmuseum P24. Palagia 2000, fig. 4.5; Picón and Hemingway 2016, 132, cat.no.39. I am grateful to Hans R. Goette for the photo Fig. 4. 16 

19 

17 

20 

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Greek Art in Motion. Studies in honour of Sir John Boardman ​on the occasion of his 90th birthday

Figure 4. Reduced copy of the statue base of Pheidias’ Athena Parthenos. From Pergamon. Berlin, Pergamonmuseum P 24. Photo: Hans R. Goette.

Figure 5. Attic red-figure volute-krater. Oxford, Ashmolean Museum 525. Photo from Boardman 2001, fig. 3. period, as well as with the sculpture of Sicily and South Italy.24 The last handbook includes a brief chapter on reception of the antique. The great merit of these concise handbooks is their comprehensive illustrations. Every significant piece of sculpture is included and commented on. They were translated into Greek, German, Italian and French. They are eminently affordable and have been indispensable to many generations of students, not least my students in the University of Athens. 24 

Boardman never lost interest in the early periods and returned to the question of the origins of Greek monumental sculpture in the chapter ‘Sources and models’ that he contributed to my collective book, Greek Sculpture: Function, Materials and Techniques in the Archaic and Classical Periods.25 His chapter particularly highlights the contribution of Crete to the birth of Greek sculpture in the seventh century (Figure 7). He reinforces his argument thanks to his familiarity with vase-painting and the minor arts. His chapter is an exemplar

Boardman 1995.

25 

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Boardman 2006.

Olga Palagia – John Boardman and Greek Sculpture

of how to approach a subject without ignoring the impact of other fields. After this, Boardman developed different interests and went on to explore the diffusion of Greek art beyond Greece, as well as resuming work on Greek gems. We will now go on to discuss recent developments in the study of Greek sculpture which carry the subject further, after Boardman, so to speak. I was asked by the organizers to share my thoughts on recent developments in the study of Greek sculpture. As I have already published an essay on new finds and developments in Greek sculpture until 2015,26 I would like to discuss further developments and publications which appeared subsequently or too late to be included in that survey. Greek sculpture is the subject not only of art history but also of archaeology and cannot be adequately explained without the aid of excavation data (if they exist) and/or historical circumstances. One of the main issues facing a sculpture expert in the light of recent discoveries is context.27 Setting aside such sculptures as were found reused in later contexts, there is still a proportion that has come down to us in association either with the fabric of buildings or statue bases or inscriptions or that can be illuminated by means of technical data. Our understanding of Greek sculpture can be enhanced by interdisciplinary collaboration. The source of marble in the case of marble sculptures, for example, and in the case of bronze statues, the contents of their interior like clay core or sherds found therein may have a direct impact on our final assessment of a sculpture’s date or historical significance.

Figure 6. Detail of a copy of the Berlin-Landsdowne Amazon. Oxford, Ashmolean Museum. Photo: Olga Palagia.

The contents of a hollow-cast bronze statue may have a direct impact on either its date or its provenance. Let me cite three case studies. The statue of Apollo found off the coast of Piombino in Italy,28 formed part of the magnificent exhibition of Hellenistic bronzes, Power and Pathos, organized by the Getty Museum in 2015.29 The god holds out his hands, with a phiale once in the right and a Palagia 2015. This issue is also dealt with, from the perspective of excavation data, by Dillon 2017. 28  Paris, Louvre Br 2. 29  Daehner and Lapatin 2015, 288291 (S. Descamps-Lequime). 26  27 

Figure 7. Limestone relief of three goddesses. From Gortyn. Heraklion Museum 379. Photo: Olga Palagia.

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Greek Art in Motion. Studies in honour of Sir John Boardman ​on the occasion of his 90th birthday

bow in the left. A dedication to Athena is incised on the left foot. Even though he adopts the stance of an archaic kouros and has a retrospective looking coiffure, his general style can be described as eclectic. This has not stopped scholars from declaring it a genuine archaic antiquity until its date was finally established by the discovery of the signatures of two sculptors written on a lead tablet extracted through the figure’s eye sockets. The fragments of the lead tablet were lost for over a century but resurfaced in time to be placed on show at the Getty. The letter-forms and particularly the lunate sigma point to a late Hellenistic date. The remnants of the name of Menodotos, a sculptor active on Rhodes in the late second century B.C., and indeed the beginning of the word ‘Rhodian’ give away the origin of at least one of the sculptors. The fact that they signed their work on a tablet hidden inside the statue, a unique occurrence so far, may suggest that we have a deliberate ancient forgery. Clues to dating ancient bronzes may also be found in sherds clinging to their clay core. A case in point is the well-known Apollo of Piraeus (Figure 8).30 It came to light in 1959, forming part of a cache of bronze and marble statues in a small room of a building of uncertain purpose. Their destruction and abandonment is attributed to Sulla’s sack of Piraeus in 86 B.C. The rescue excavation was never completed and never published, and the find as a whole still awaits proper publication. Like the Piombino Apollo, the Piraeus Apollo also holds out his hands, with a phiale in the right and a bow in the left. He has the general appearance of an archaic kouros but projects the right foot instead of the left. He was hailed upon discovery as the earliest surviving hollow-cast bronze statue and dated to the last quarter of the sixth century. But the stylistic discrepancies of the figure quickly prompted the suggestion that it is, in fact, archaistic. The first scholar to propose this was George Dontas,31 who was aware of the sherds found clinging to the clay core of the head and neck of the statue. They appear to be Attic, some being black-glazed, others coarse wares. Their possible date ranges from the sixth to the fourth centuries B.C. Dontas only mentioned the sherds in a footnote and did not illustrate them. He went on to place the statue in the second quarter of the fifth century, a period when no other archaistic statues are known. The verdict of the sherds was soon forgotten, however, as the sherds themselves were inaccessible, and the Apollo became better known as an archaistic work of the late Hellenistic period. Not so long ago, I obtained permission to re-examine the sherds with the help of a specialist, Susan Rotroff, and to publish them.32 They compel us to date the Apollo either to the archaic or the classical period, and I have personally opted for a date towards the end of the fourth century, when we have the earliest monumental statues in the archaistic style but the options are open. We have, at any rate, to accept Attic manufacture for the statue and rule out a Corinthian provenance as was recently suggested by a scholar who was not aware of the testimony of the sherds.33

Figure 8. Apollo of Piraeus. Piraeus Museum 4645. Photo: Hans R. Goette. The third case concerns the clay cores of the Riace bronzes34 and what they can tell us about their workshop. In 2016 Vinzenz Brinkmann organized in Frankfurt an exhibition called ‘Athen. Triumph der Bilder.’35 The pièces de resistance were the new colourful reconstructions of the Riace bronzes with dark hair and shiny helmets and shields. The bronzes

Piraeus Museum 4645. Palagia 2016. I am grateful to Hans R. Goette for the photo Fig. 8. 31  Dontas 1986. 32  Palagia 2016, figs. 7-9. 33  Piteros 2011. 30 

Reggio Calabria, National Archaeological Museum 12801 (Riace A) and 12802 (Riace B). 35  Brinkmann 2016. 34 

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Olga Palagia – John Boardman and Greek Sculpture

Figure 9. Reconstruction of the Riace Bronzes by V. Brinkmann. Frankfurt, Liebieghaus. Photo: Hans R. Goette. were identified with a group of Erechtheus fighting a duel with the Thracian Eumolpos, which was seen by Pausanias (1.27.45) near the Erechtheion on the Athenian Acropolis: ‘near the temple of Athena …are two large bronze statues (agalmata) of men facing each other in single combat. They call them Erechtheus and Eumolpus…on the same pedestal are portraits (andriantes) of Theainetos who served Tolmides as his seer and indeed of Tolmides himself…’36 In another passage, Pausanias (9.30.1) seems to attribute this group to Myron. His style is rather different from that of the Riace bronzes but this question is never addressed.37 Riace A is reconstructed 36  37 

as Erechtheus and given a Corinthian helmet, while Riace B is shown as the Thracian Eumolpos and given a fox skin cap, an axe and an amazon’s shield. The reconstruction of the two figures on the base is awkward, for B is shown in profile even though both statues were obviously designed for a full frontal view (Figure 9).38 It is also surprising that only the two bronzes are shown here despite the fact that Pausanias explicitly says that the group comprised two more figures, the Athenian general Tolmides and his seer, Theainetos. No explanation of their absence is offered. There is, in fact, no consensus as to the group’s date and some scholars believe that Pausanias merged two separate groups but Brinkmann

Brinkmann and Koch-Brinkmann 2016. On Myron, see Vollkommer 2001-2004, s.v.Myron (I).

38 

9

Brinkmann 2016, 163, no. 35.

Greek Art in Motion. Studies in honour of Sir John Boardman ​on the occasion of his 90th birthday

and Koch-Brinkmann did not engage in the debate.39 Moreover, their new reconstruction did not take into account three statue bases from the Acropolis, attributed to this group by Manolis Korres (Figure 10).40 The bases carried over-life-size bronze statues, obviously belonged to a single monument and had been reused in the Roman repair of the west door of the Parthenon. Their workmanship and dowel-cuttings suggest a fifth-century date. Two of the bases carried cuttings for striding figures while the third supported a quietly standing figure turning towards its proper left, indicating that there was another figure on a fourth base. Even if we assume that the statue bases were tacitly rejected by Koch and Brinkmann-Koch,41 we expected to have seen some arguments against them. In addition, the authorship of Myron mentioned above indicates that the group was an Attic work. But recent analysis of clay samples from the core of the Riace bronzes in the University of Modena has shown that Athens is excluded as a possible source, while the Argolid is considered a more likely candidate.42 The reconstruction of the Riace bronzes as Erechtheus and Eumolpos on the Acropolis will fail to convince until the questions of the clay core provenance, the group composition of Tolmides, his seer and the two heroes, as well as the stylistic discrepancies between Myron’s works and the Riace bronzes are addressed. Temporary exhibitions of Greek sculpture offer a unique opportunity to display side by side multiple copies or versions of a famous prototype scattered in different countries or even continents, as well as to Figure 10. Three statue bases from the Athenian Acropolis. Photo from Korres 1994, 87. focus on the products of a single workshop. The exhibition of Hellenistic bronzes Power and Pathos organized by the Getty Museum in 201543 managed and feet and the arrangement of hair locks, demonstrating to assemble two full scale bronze copies of a fourth-century that copyists did not always follow their prototypes very Apoxyomenos, one from Ephesos and the comparatively closely. recent one from Croatia, a marble full scale copy from Florence, as well as a bronze copy of the head in Fort Worth.44 The detection of paint on ancient sculptures has been the It was thus possible to study variations in the poise of the head object of intensive study in the past decade, as colour not only modifies the appearance but can also alter the meaning of sculptures. The exhibition Transformation: Classical Sculpture 39  The group was probably dedicated by the Athenians after Tolmides in Colour, organized by the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek in 2014,45 was killed in the battle of Koroneia in 447: Ioakimidou 99-100 and summarized the latest discoveries in the field and included 267-269; Keesling 2017, 265-266 n. 30. It was dedicated in Tolmides’ a number of Brinkmann’s experimental plaster casts painted lifetime: Krumeich 1997, 109-111. It may have been retrospective, set with vivid colours, which have generated a lot of discussion. up towards the end of the fifth century: Tiverios 2016, 147. Krumeich The Peplos Kore from the Athenian Acropolis, in particular,46 (1997, 109-111) considers the Erechtheus group independent from that of Tolmides. provides a fine case study in the reconstruction of garments 40  Korres 1994, 86-87. on the basis of the vestiges of colour. A compelling argument 41  Rejected by Krumeich 1997, 110-111 but accepted by Tiverios 2016. is made against the traditional interpretation of her drapery 42  Jones et al. 2016. as a peplos worn over a chiton, for she is seen as wearing an 43  Daehner and Lapatin 2015. 44  ependytis over her chiton instead. Brinkmann’s reconstruction, Ephesos: Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum VI 3168, Daehner and Lapatin 2015, 272-273, no. 40. Croatia: Zagreb, Ministry of Culture of Croatia, Daehner and Lapatin 2015, 274-275, no. 41. Florence, Galleria degli Uffizi 100, Daehner and Lapatin 2015, 278-279, no. 43. Fort Worth, Kimbell Art Museum AP 2000.03a, Daehner and Lapatin 2015, 276-277, no. 42.

Østergaard and Nielsen 2014. Acropolis Museum 679. Koch-Brinkmann et al. 2014, 126-129, 136137. 45  46 

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Olga Palagia – John Boardman and Greek Sculpture

Figure 11. Copy of Dying Gaul. From Rome. Naples, National Archaeological Museum 6013. Photo: Olga Palagia. however, presents two superimposed garments of the same colour, whereas the new reconstruction offered by the Acropolis Museum,47 not included in the exhibition, shows a sharp tonal contrast between overgarment and undergarment.

Acropolis, south of the Parthenon, by Attalos I around 200 B.C., showed bronze battle groups, of gods against giants, Greeks against amazons, Athenians against Persians at Marathon, and Pergamenes against Gauls. The statues were under life-size, hence the name Lesser Attalid Dedication. We have copies of the defeated opponents only. What we did not see in New York, were samples of the original bases (Figure 12) of this dedication surviving on the Acropolis. They were identified by Manolis Korres several years ago,52 proving that not only the defeated enemy but also the victors were represented, sometimes on horseback, for the horses have left their imprints on top of the bases. The juxtaposition of the copies of the Lesser Attalid Dedication with their original bases would have truly enhanced our appreciation of this lost monument.

The diffusion of the sculptural style of Pergamon was beautifully illustrated in the exhibition Pergamon and the Hellenistic Kingdoms of the Ancient World organized by the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York in 2016.48 It was particularly instructive to assemble alongside the original Pergamene sculptures from Berlin, Roman copies of Pergamene works in Italy. It was possible to see in New York two busts of Pergamene rulers, Eumenes II and Philetairos from the Villa of the Papyri at Herculaneum,49 and copies of the so-called Lesser Attalid Dedication on the Athenian Acropolis now in the Naples Museum (Figure 11)50 and in the Vatican.51 This monument, dedicated on the Athenian

This brings us back to the question of context in understanding Greek sculpture. Now that it is no longer considered the pinnacle of classical archaeology, sculpture has found its proper place as part of archaeology rather than art history, to be understood in tandem with epigraphy, architecture, pottery and science, which provide additional data for the decipherment of riddles.

Pandermalis 2012, 28-29 and book jacket illustrations. Picón and Hemingway 2016. 49  Eumenes II, Naples, National Archaeological Museum 5588. Philetairos, Naples, National Archaeological Museum 6148. Picón and Hemingway 2016, 120, no 24a and 124, no. 25. 50  Naples, National Archaeological Museum 6012, 6013, 6015, from Rome. Picón and Hemingway 2016, 179-181, nos. 100a-c. 51  Vatican Museums 2794. Picón and Hemingway 2016, 178-179, no. 99. 47  48 

52 

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Stewart and Korres 2004, 242-285.

Greek Art in Motion. Studies in honour of Sir John Boardman ​on the occasion of his 90th birthday

Figure 12. Two statue bases from the Lesser Attalid Dedication on the Athenian Acropolis. Photo from Stewart and Korres 2004, fig. 215. Bibliography

Archaic and Classical Periods: 1-31. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Boardman, J. 2010. The Relief Plaques of Eastern Eurasia and China (The ‘Ordos Bronzes’, Peter the Great’s Treasure and their Kin). Beazley Archive Occasional Paper. Oxford: Archaeopress. Boardman, J. 2015. The Greeks in Asia. London: Thames and Hudson. Bol, R. 1998. Amazones volneratae. Mainz: von Zabern. Brinkmann, V. and U. Koch-Brinkmann 2016. Das Rätsel der Riace-Krieger – Erechtheus und Eumolpos. In Brinkmann 2016: 114-125. Brinkmann, V. ed. 2016. Athen. Triumph der Bilder. Frankfurt: Michael Imhof. Daehner, J. M. and K. Lapatin eds. 2015. Power and Pathos. Bronze Sculpture of the Hellenistic World. Los Angeles: Getty Publications. Dillon, S. 2017. Approaches to the study of Greek sculpture. In A. Lichtenberger and R. Raja (eds.), The Diversity of Classical Archaeology: 223-234. Turnhout: Brepols. Dontas, G. 1986. Ο χάλκινος Απόλλων του Πειραιά. In H. Kyrieleis (ed.), Archaische und klassische griechische Plastik I: 181-192. Mainz: von Zabern. Jones, R. D. Brunelli, V. Cannavò, S. T. Levi, M. Vidale 2016. The Riace bronzes: recent work on the clay core. In E. PhotosJones et al. (eds.), Proceedings of the 6th Symposium of the Hellenic Society for Archaeometry: 21-27. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Herman, G. 1989. Nikias, Epimenides and the question of omissions in Thucydides. CQ 39: 83-93. Ioakimidou, C. 1997. Die Statuenreihen griechischer Poleis und Bünde aus spätarchaischer und klassischer Zeit. Munich: tuduv-Verlagsgesellschaft.

Boardman, J. 1967. Pre-Classical. From Crete to Archaic Greece. Harmondsworth: Penguin. Boardman, J. 1977. The Parthenon frieze – another view. In U. Höckmann and A. Krug (eds.), Festschrift für Frank Brommer: 39-49. Mainz: von Zabern. Boardman, J. 1978. Greek Sculpture: The Archaic Period. London: Thames and Hudson. Boardman, J. 1980. The amazon’s belt.’ AJA 84: 181-182. Boardman, J. 1984. The Parthenon frieze. In E. Berger (ed.), Parthenon-Kongress Basel: 210-215. Mainz: von Zabern. Boardman, J. 1985. Greek Sculpture: The Classical Period. London: Thames and Hudson. Boardman, J. 1988. Notes on the Parthenon frieze. In M. Schmidt (ed.), Kanon. Festschrift für Ernst Berger: 9-14. AntK Beih. 15. Boardman, J. 1991. The naked truth. OJA 10: 119-121. Boardman, J. 1994. The Diffusion of Classical Art in Antiquity. London: Thames and Hudson. Boardman, J. 1995. Greek Sculpture: The Late Classical Period. London: Thames and Hudson. Boardman, J. 1998. Early Greek Vase Painting. London: Thames and Hudson. Boardman, J. 1999. The Greeks Overseas. Their Early Colonies and Trade.4 (1st edition: 1964). London: Thames and Hudson. Boardman, J. 2001. Pandora in the Parthenon: a grace to mortals.’ In A. Alexandri and I. Leventi (eds.), Καλλίστευμα. Μελέτες προς τιμήν της Όλγας Τζάχου-Αλεξανδρή: 233244. Athens: ICOM. Boardman, J. 2006. Sources and Models. In O. Palagia (ed.), Greek Sculpture: Function, Materials and Techniques in the

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Keesling, C. M. 2017. Early Greek Portraiture. Monuments and Histories. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Koch-Brinkmann, U., H. Piening, V. Brinkmann 2014. Girls and goddesses. On the costumes of archaic female statues. In Østergaard and Nielsen 2014, 116-139. Korres, M. 1994. Study for the Restoration of the Parthenon 4. Athens: Ministry of Culture. Krumeich, R. 1997. Bildnisse griechischer Herrscher und Staatsmänner im 5. Jahrhudert v. Chr. Munich: Biering and Brinkmann. Neils, J. 2001. The Parthenon Frieze. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Østergaard, J. S. and A.M.Nielsen eds. 2014. Transformations. Classical Sculpture in Colour. Copenhagen: Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek. Palagia, O. 2000. Meaning and narrative techniques in statuebases of the Pheidian circle. In N. K. Rutter and B. A. Sparkes (eds.), Word and Image in Ancient Greece: 53-78. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Palagia, O. 2008. The Parthenon frieze: boy or girl? AntK 51: 3-7. Palagia, O. 2015. Greek sculpture, Archaic, Classical and Hellenistic: new finds and developments 2005-2015. Archaeological Reports 61: 104-114.

Palagia, O. 2016. Towards a publication of the Piraeus bronzes: the Apollo. In A. Giumlia-Mair and C.C. Mattusch (eds.), Proceedings of the XVIIth International Congress on Ancient Bronzes, Izmir: 237-244. Autun: Éditions Mergoil. Pandermalis, D. 2012. Archaic Colors. Athens: Acropolis Museum. Picón, C. A. and S. Hemingway 2016. Pergamon and the Hellenistic Kingdoms of the Ancient World. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. Piteros, C. 2011. Ο Απόλλων του Πειραιά και το ιερό στο Δήλεσι. In P. Valavanis (ed.), Ταξιδεύοντας στην κλασική Ελλάδα.Τόμος προς τιμήν του καθηγητή Πέτρου Θέμελη: 233-253. Athens. Robertson, M. 1975. The Parthenon Frieze. London: Phaidon. Stewart, A. and M. Korres 2004. Attalos, Athens, and the Akropolis. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Stuart, J. and N. Revett 1787. The Antiquities of Athens. London: John Nichols. Tiverios, M. 2016. Μονομαχία Ερεχθέως και Ευμόλπου. Ένα βάθρο αναθήματος στην Ακρόπολη και η υδρία της Πέλλας. In C. Zambas et al (eds.) ΑΡΧΙΤΈΚΤΩΝ. Honorary Volume for Professor Manolis Korres: 143-152. Athens: Melissa.

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Sanctuaries and the Hellenistic Polis: An Architectural Approach Milena Melfi In 1995 I was a student of Classics at the University of Pisa, just starting the study of Greek Art and Archaeology. When reading for a course on the religious festivals of the Athenians, I got in contact for the first time with the work of John Boardman through a series of essays, contained or discussed in a volume that I still treasure, L’esperimento della perfezione.1 These were the famous studies on Herakles, Theseus and the Amazons and on the Parthenon frieze published earlier in different editions and later translated into Italian.2 They represented for me a real milestone reading and undoubtedly helped me find my way through archaeology. Firstly, because of their methodology: the careful, sophisticated use of all types of evidence (images, buildings, texts) aimed at reconstructing a cultural context; and the empiricism and positivism of the argument, that proceeded from a complete command of the available evidence, always in line with the empirical roots of our discipline. Secondly, because of the intensely poliscentred image they offered of temples, treasuries, sanctuaries and sacred places in general. John Boardman’s works of the 70s and 80s on the iconography and architectural narratives of the Athenian state demonstrated how sanctuaries and temples in Athens were deeply connected to the life and deeds of the local community; how civic community, contemporary history and religious rituals found their highest expression in sacred architecture and in the sculptural narrative that accompanied it.

These were the earliest works that used nearly exclusively archaeology and art to demonstrate the tight connection between religion and community in the Classical period, and that sanctuaries were actually the heightened mirror of the polis and its history. It was only later in the 80s and in the 90s that the theoretical aspects of the connection between polis and sanctuaries were explored, mostly in the field of ancient history, and applied to contexts other than Athens. The elaboration of the model by Francois De Polignac in his famous 1984 book, La naissance de la cité grecque, introduced the notion that sanctuaries had to be considered as born with the polis and from their very beginning physically woven into the fabric of the settlement they belonged to. Their placing in the landscape marked the territorial boundaries of the Archaic –and later Classical—polis and often matched the actual social divisions of the citizen body, ultimately reflecting mechanisms of civic participation.3 A parallel argument developed by Christiane Sourvinou-Inwood in the field of Greek religious studies in the early 90s enforced the embeddedness of religion in the life of the polis (the model of ‘polis religion’) and extended the influence of the community of citizens well beyond the architectural and topographical aspects stressed by De Polignac. According to this model— heavily based on evidence from Classical Athens—the polis as an institution regulated, organised, and controlled most religious activities. Such control was maintained through the organisation of cults and festivals, the appointment of religious officers and the centrally regulated participation in regional and Panhellenic religious networks.4 The conclusions drawn by these historians and many others after were ultimately the same that had been offered years before and in a more empirical way by John Boardman in his studies on Athenian art and culture, where the people, cults and institutions of the prime polis of Greece were made to live in the images adorning and furnishing temples and rituals.

The 1977 essay on the interpretation of the Parthenon frieze in relation to the Athenian Marathon-fighters is exemplary in this respect, not only for connecting the architectural narrative with the history of contemporary Athens, but also for ingraining it in the topography of the city, by stressing, for example, the presence of small outcrops of rock in the frieze. This, together with other elements, is taken as a possible indication of the location of the procession in the dromos connecting the Athenian agora and acropolis, a perfect setting for the idealized cavalcade. The obvious conclusion being that not only the procession represented in the frieze was Athenian, but it also took place in Athens. Similarly in the 1982 essay on Herakles, Theseus and the Amazons, the images chosen for the decoration of both religious monuments and high quality red-figure vases are viewed as representative of the values and history of the 5th century Athenian community both at home and abroad. Here John Boardman, through images on vases, wall-paintings and relief sculpture, skilfully reconstructs a continuous history of Athenian identity—or of how the Athenians wanted to be perceived in the wider contemporary world—that ultimately finds its visual culmination in crucial cultic locations such as the sanctuary of Apollo at Delphi and the Athenian Acropolis.

In recent years the debate on the connection between the polis and its cultic buildings, so clearly illustrated by examples such as Boardman’s study of the Parthenon frieze, has taken many different and often controversial forms, especially when leaving the familiar and well investigated field of Classical Athens.5 The paradigmatic relation between civic communities and religion has been put into question when tested against periods and regions that are said to escape traditional developments, such as the Hellenistic period—often understood as characterised by the growing importance of individual beliefs and by the decline the traditional values of the polis, when communities appear to be organised in alternative ways such as in tribes, leagues or federations.6 On the other hand, such criticisms need to De Polignac 1984. English translation: De Polignac 1995. Sourvinou-Inwood 1990 and 2000. For a discussion of this issue see Melfi 2016. 6  A summary on personal orientation of Hellenistic religion following the ‘decline of the polis’ in Deshours 2011: 23-24. Most recently on the need of taking into account ‘personal issues of belief and alternative 3  4  5 

1  2 

La Rocca 1988. Boardman 1977 and 1982.

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Milena Melfi – Sanctuaries and the Hellenistic Polis: An Architectural Approach

be weighed today against a recent reappraisal of the vitality of the polis institutions well beyond the fourth century BC. Plenty of recent works privilege, in fact, the perspective that the Greek polis continued to exist as a self-governing entity far into the Hellenistic and Roman periods, and have prompted a revision of the communis opinio on Hellenistic religion as pre-eminently characterised by the growing importance of individual beliefs and by the loosening of the ties between citizens and institutions.7 Such studies have confirmed the validity of a civic perspective in the study of Hellenistic religion by showing that many poleis were the main religious agents in the life of Greek sanctuaries well into the first century AD. Poleis endorsed the promotion/adoption/ introduction of certain cults, approved the construction of religious buildings, commissioned the making of cult statues, and prescribed the assignment of priesthoods.8

the view of Petros Themelis, that I today share together with most scholars, the construction of the complex is indissolubly linked to the life and work of Damophon and his family, that is to say the buildings were conceived from the very beginning as a monumental backdrop for his statues. The complex is certainly Hellenistic and must have been constructed within the first half of the 2nd century BC, judging from the analysis of the buildings and the data from excavations, although its precise dating remains as controversial as that of the activity of the Messenian sculptor and his workshop.11 Whether the ideological background of this extraordinary project is to be found in the assertion of a new Messenian identity within or outside of the Achaean League, depending on the precise decade of its construction and/or on the allegiance of Damophon to the Achaean cause, it is evident that its spaces, buildings and statues conjure-up a majestic picture of the history of the city state. This focuses on a new divine figure, that of Asklepios, an Achaean god, not traditionally linked with Messene, if not by virtue of his sons worshipped in the region as heroes.12 Asklepios and his sons, in Hellenistic Messene, are made Messenian, and inserted in the genealogy of the mythical kings of Messenia through a Messenian-born mother, Arsinoe, probably following a version of the myth created at the time of the foundation of the Messenian state in the 4th century BC.13 According to Pausanias, in fact, the Messenians ‘say that the sons of Asklepios who went to Troy were Messenians, Asklepios being the son of Arsinoe, daughter of Leukippos, not the son of (Epidaurian) Koronis’.14

Therefore, as an archaeologist whose main research focus lies in post-classical sanctuaries, I would like to explore in this paper whether in the Hellenistic period the architecture and architectural narratives found in temples and cultic buildings confirm the uninterrupted relation between the polis and its cult places as recently highlighted by the historians, mostly on the basis of documentary sources. One of the best case-studies is the sanctuary of Asklepios at Messene, in the Peloponnese (Figure 1). The Asklepieion, with its complex statuary groups, is in fact a grandiose reconstruction of the history and rituals of the local community, through architecture and sculptural narratives. This extraordinary complex, excavated first by Anastasios Orlandos, and up to the present days by Petros Themelis, consists of a large sacred precinct, surrounded by a double portico in the Corinthian order, with several rooms for cult and public functions at the back of its east, west and north wings, and a large peripteral doric temple in the centre.9 According to Pausanias, the site was famous in antiquity because it hosted several statues of gods and heroes made by the famous sculptor Damophon of Messene.10 The archaeological discoveries of the last 20 years confirmed the attribution of a number of statue bases to Damophon and his family, while the unusual shape of the western and part of the northern wing of the complex, consisting of a number of shrines with wide openings and low walls, in some cases incorporating statue bases, suggested that these buildings were purposefully made to accommodate sculptures and sculptural groups. In

The architecture of the Asklepieion reflects the central position given to Asklepios in Messenian history. The sanctuary of Asklepios is approached, from the agora, in the North, passing by the fountain Arsinoe, dedicated to the Messenian mother of Asklepios, and the Doric temple of Messene, mythical founder of the city. Here, according to Pausanias, the very myth of the Messenian descent of Asklepios was visually explained on the back wall by ‘paintings of the kings of Messene (…) There is Leucippus brother of Aphareus, Hilaeira and Phoebe, and with them Arsinoe. Asclepius too is represented, being according to the Messenian account a son of Arsinoe, also Machaon and Podaleirius, as they also took part in the affair at Troy’.15 The Doric temple and altar of Asklepios appear absolutely central within the sacred complex because of their precisely axial and frontal position, in line with the main propylon and the surrounding stoai.16 The austere Doric order of temple and altar, perfectly suited for the worship of a god defined as Achaean from the Homeric epic onwards, was

worshipping communities’: Kindt 2009: 23-25 and Kindt 2012: 27-30. 7  On the vitality of the Hellenistic poleis: Will 1979; Gauthier 1985; Ma 2008. On the long life of the polis as a self-governing institution, see the recent work of by the scholars of the Copenhagen polis centre: Hansen and Nielsen 2004: 16-22; Hansen 2006: 48-50. 8  For example, Nadine Deshours, starting from a well-defined body of epigraphic evidence, proposes a complete rejection of the idea of decline of civic religion in the late Hellenistic period, in favour of a general reprisal of traditional cult places and rituals. Numerous inscriptions show that throughout the Hellenistic period, and in particular between the years 167 and 31 BC, ‘l’été indien de la religion civique’, reconstructions and restorations of buildings and religious practices were promoted by civic bodies in order to keep alive the most traditional rituals, and ultimately the religious identity of the polis (Deshours 2011). 9  For the history of excavations see the most recent summary in Ito 2013, pp. 1-2 and nos. 4-5. Most excavations reports were published by both excavators in the Praktika tes en Athenais Archaiologikes Etereias. 10  Pausanias 4.31.10.

Themelis dates it around 190 BC and Luraghi 2008 to 170-160 BC, both on the basis of historical sources; Sioumpara 2011, Müth 2007 and Ito et al. 2013 prefer the first half of the 2nd century BC, after the architectural study of the main buildings and the associated stratigraphical finds. 12  Machaon was buried in Gerenia, where his cult was established (Paus. III, 26,9); Machaon, Gorgasos and Nikomachos were worshipped in Pharai (Paus. 4. 3.10). 13  Torelli 1998, p. 475; Melfi 2007, 247. Such date is also supported by the chronology of the establishment of a healing cult (possibly in honour of Asklepios) in the area later occupied by the Hellenistic complex (Themelis 2000: 22-24). 14  Paus. 4.3.2 15  Paus. 4.31.11-12 16  On the temple, most recently: Sioumpara 2011. 11 

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Figure 1. Messene: the sanctuary of Asklepios © The Archaeological Society, Athens visually connected with the surrounding monumental stoai in the Corinthian order through the use of the identical ornamented sima with acanthus and lion-head spouts. It is clear today that temple, altar, stoai and all attached buildings were constructed at the same time on the same artificial purposely-built platform and responded to one another in the proportions and in the adoption of identical building techniques and architectural ornamentation.17 This confirms that temple, characterised by an extraordinary ‘all-side axial symmetry’, and altar were from the very beginning planned as the centrepieces of the complex.18 It is possible that the frieze of the stoai, consisting in alternating bukranioi and garlands, clearly referring to a ritual/sacrificial function,

complemented the architectural symmetry in focusing the viewer’s attention on the temple/altar complex. According to Pausanias’ description: ‘The most numerous statues and the most worth seeing are to be found in the sanctuary of Asclepius. For besides statues of the god and his sons, and besides statues of Apollo, the Muses and Heracles, the city of Thebes is represented and Epaminondas the son of Cleommis, Fortune, and Artemis Bringer of Light. The stone statues are the work of Damophon’.19 Various interpretations have been offered by different scholars on the arrangement of the statues and statue groups seen by Pausanias in the sanctuary, but none of them can be proved .20 It is almost certain that the statues of Asklepios and his sons were displayed inside the temple of the god, although the precise

Ito et al. 2013: 93-96. Sioumpara 2011: 216-218; Ito et al. 2013: 73-85. ‘All-side axial symmetry’:where the cella is absolutely symmetrical within the peristasis, pronaos and opistodomos have exactly the same depth, and the front and back façades of the cella are identical (Sioumpara 2015: 218 and 2011: 245-253). 17  18 

Pausanias 4.31.10 For a recent summary with updated bibliography see Ito et al. 2013: 4-8. 19  20 

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Milena Melfi – Sanctuaries and the Hellenistic Polis: An Architectural Approach

placement of the sculptural fragments so far identified has not yet been convincingly reconstructed.21 What is evident is nevertheless the emphasis given, in the very centre of the sanctuary, to Asklepios and his male descendants, Machaon and Podaleirios, rather than the most commonly represented daughter Hygieia. These were both known as warriors and physicians among the Achaeans in the Trojan wars, and the appropriation of their Homeric past by the Messenians would no doubt have further secured their reputation.22

agalma of Artemis Phosphoros, Bringer of Light, mentioned by Pausanias must have been placed on the large central base, built against the back wall of the room, enclosed by two rows of Ionic columns, and clearly visible from the shallow entrance.29 Fragments of a colossal female head and a hand holding a torch found in the excavations were attributed to the statue.30 This was the visual arriving point of a complex ritual, that took place in the outdoor space in front of the shrine, right next to the cult of Asklepios. The altar for Artemis is, in fact, located in the courtyard of the Asklepieion on the axis of the cult statue of the goddess and is flanked right and left by donaries and dedications. Among these were the statues and statue bases of priestesses and initiated of the cult of Artemis—most of which were later arranged in two semicircles inside the shrine—belonging to the most notable Messenian families of the 2nd cent. BC to 3rd cent. AD. The dedications and the statues visualised an ancient ritual where Messenian girls participated in a night procession carrying torches, and paraded the old xoanon of the goddess, with reference to Archaic Sparta.31 The inscriptions on the statue bases suggest a link between cult and civic participation, where local families where clearly required to contribute to the celebration of the cult by providing either priestesses or young female initiates and were in turn honoured by the civic community with statues and dedications.32

Most of the statues mentioned by Pausanias must have been placed in the widely opened, proportionally consistent and low walled six oikoi surrounding the complex to the west. Whatever the exact position of the statues was, the similarities in size, rhythm and decoration of the six oikoi, together with their symmetry and visual accessibility from the courtyard, suggests a sort of museum display.23 Here, in an exceptional fusion of sculpture and architecture, Asklepios and his family were visually encased in the mythical and actual history of Messene. For example, Apollo, father of Asklepios, was represented possibly in a group with the Muses, either in oikos Ξ—where the presence of a semi-circular base suggested the arrangement of a compatible group—or in oikos H—where a head identified as that of Apollo was found.24 The group was closely related to a statue of Herakles, similarly related to the Messenian genealogy as being the great-great-grandfather of the Messenian king Kresphontes, who ruled after the Trojan wars. Next to them or in close relation, according to some in oikos M or N,25 were the statues of Epaminondas and Thebes, the 4th century founder of Messene and his motherland, a clear reference to the most recent history of the city-state. These constituted a fitting counterpart to the honours paid in the agora to the other founding figure of the Messenian community, the mythical heroine Messene, whose statue in marble and gold, possibly placed in her very temple, is known from both Pausanias’ description and from a statue base bearing a dedication by the sons of Damophon found in the excavations.26 Finally, the statue of Tyche, mentioned by Pausanias after that of Epaminondas would have provided a further key to reading the complex within a historical discourse: Tyche as the Tyche of Messene, personification of the city-state, or as the fate, the elemental force by which the events of history come about, very similar to that described by the contemporary historian Polybius in his works.27

In this extraordinary complex of architecture and sculpture the origins of Asklepios and his cult were retraced and evoked from his mythical birth from Apollo and Arsinoe, to his participation in the Trojan war with his physician sons, and finally his incorporation in Messenian royalty. Such a reconstruction was at the same time placed in the larger historical frame of contemporary Messenia and connected to a traditional religious network. On the one hand it was anchored to main historical figures and political developments, such as Epaminondas’ foundation and the role of Thebe, in order to give a sense of real and uninterrupted history from the mythical past to the tangible present; on the other hand it preserved the oldest religious traditions by making reference to the many heroic cults for the children of Asklepios sparse in the region and to the important role of the cult of Artemis Orthia. The latter, in particular, by offering a high degree of civic participation, contributed a very local dimension, where votive and honorary inscriptions highlighted the action of local notables. With their one-directional reference to Messenian civic and cultural sphere only, the buildings and sculptures of the Asklepieion of Messene can therefore be considered as the Hellenistic counterpart of the representation of the civic body, its history and traditions found in the architectural sculpture of Classical temples. At Messene, this innovative architectural project de-structures the traditional narratives based on relief and pedimental sculpture, by providing single, freestanding units, in the form of the oikoi, each telling a different and complementary story and framing the main central building. The result is that the

The only oikos securely identified in its function and furnishings, is oikos K dedicated to the cult of Artemis Orthia, judging from the many inscriptions found within. The cult is one of the oldest of the Messenian state, probably dates back to the period of Laconian control of the region and was here transferred from an older shrine in use until shortly after the construction of the Asklepieion.28 Here Damophon’s According to Sioumpara 2011: 224, not enough is left of the floor slabs to understand where the statue-base was placed, but it was certainly not attached to the back wall. 22  Il. II. 729-33; Diod. IV, 71. 23  On the architecture of the oikoi: Chlepa 2001: 76-89. 24  Melfi 2007: 278-279. 25  Melfi 2007: 276. 26  Paus. 4.31.11; IG v.1 1443 and SEG 41.352A–B. 27  As suggested by Torelli 1998: 481. To the statue of Tyche, Themelis attributes some fragments of foot, drapery and the torso of an infant (Themelis 1996: 164-165). 28  Themelis 1994. 21 

Chlepa 2001, 15-69. Themelis 1996, 165-166. 31  On the possible reconstruction of the ritual on the basis of the inscriptions and sculptural remains, see Themelis 1994. 32  See for example the inscription in honour of young Mego, whose parents had both served as priest and priestess of the god (SEG 23.220), or the many dedications of the Roman period offered in honour of well-serving priestesses by the civic body in the form of the Gerousia of (Artemis) Oupesia. 29  30 

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Greek Art in Motion. Studies in honour of Sir John Boardman ​on the occasion of his 90th birthday

religious space becomes a sort of museum of local history that represents and glorifies the Messenian community, while offering them a way of preserving their identity and local history at times of disruption and changes.

room.35 Here the sacred banquets decreed by the community for benefactors and members of the elite, who were awarded the honour ‘dining in the hierothyteion’—probably the altar enclosure of the goddess where the sacrifice took place—were likely held.36 The importance of such practice is highlighted by the fact that the first large subscription ever associated with an intervention in the sanctuary after the fire relates to the purchase of drinking vessels.37 The incorporation of dining rooms in the most exclusive and controlled part of the sanctuary reflected the participation of only certain parts of the citizen body in certain rituals. These were the herothytai – religious officers belonging to the local elite—and those who received from them the privilege of banqueting close to the goddess. Ultimately the architecture of the Hellenistic sanctuary of Athana at Lindos was conceived with the Hellenistic civic community in mind, in particular the Rhodian community, where a strict cursus honorum regulated magistracies and priesthoods, and public offices were exclusively in the hands of a few local wealthy families.38 The incorporation of the mechanisms of participation of the civic body in the architecture of the sanctuary through varying degrees of access, has been aptly compared by Lippolis with Hellenistic palatial architecture. In Lippolis’ view, the succession of antechambers and peristyle courts, known from the basileia of Alexandria, Pella and Ai-Kanhoum, would ultimately regulate access to the rooms directly used by the king, in a relation similar to that of the two Lindian stoai with the temple of the goddess.39

Other two examples that I find enlightening to illustrate how the architecture of Hellenistic sanctuaries reflects the history and political order of the city they belong to are those of the sanctuaries of Rhodes at Lindos and Kamiros. In both these cases, it is the organisation of spaces and buildings alone, without the support of sculptural programmes, that enforces the connection between sanctuary and polis. In Lindos, the sanctuary of the traditional patron goddess Athana had a long history, but in 392/1 BC, the temple was destroyed by a fire together with most of its dedications. It was only rebuilt from around the 290s BC, after the siege by Demetrius, thanks to private donors and a large civic subscription of around 260 individuals. Members of the local elite took mostly upon themselves the expenses of rebuilding the sanctuary and of replacing its furnishings.33 The architectural shape taken by the sanctuary, after an innovative project, probably completed in successive stages, was new and impressive. It occupied the whole acropolis of Lindos, inverted the traditional, relatively indirect, access to the Archaic temple and provided a well-defined route where the architecture seems to have offered different levels of access and participation to the citizen body. The sacred space was articulated in three terraces with a clear central ascending axis leading to the highest and most sacred building of the complex, the temple of Athana—located in the very place of the Archaic cult place (Figure 2).

Even clearer is the example of the cult places of the city of Kamiros, in the same island of Rhodes, well studied by Luigi Calio’.40 Here the reconstruction of the city after the earthquake of 228 BC triggered the promotion of the main civic sanctuaries where major local families engaged in benefactions and dedications. The sanctuary of the patron gods of the city, Athana and Zeus Polieus, was on the top of the hill of Kamiros, and visually dominated the whole settlement (Figure 3). It was directly accessed through a main street cutting across the city, tortuous but clearly defined. This route seems to mark the ascension to the culminating point of the whole urban topography, the highest and probably the most sacred. The sanctuary was built on three terraces and occupied the whole acropolis. The lowest terrace hosted a single altar placed at the end of the main street leading up to the acropolis; the middle one consisted in a grandiose Doric stoa more than two hundred metres long, built on a fivemeters high terracing wall in ashlar masonry, and intersected by a monumental staircase on an axis with the temple; finally, on the upper terrace was the temple, the ultimate focus of the ascending route crossing the city.

The lowest level was entirely occupied by a large two-winged Doric stoa with paraskenia, constituting the first access point to the sacred complex by incorporating the monumental staircase leading up to the acropolis. The monumental, accessible architecture of this stoa, with free-standing colonnade and no attached rooms, and its commanding position are indicative of religious processions, communal rituals and celebrations open to the whole population of the island. Here a plethora of statue dedications of members of the local elite set up by Lindian magistrates, officials and colleges of magistrates would have offered visitors and worshippers a clear idea of the civic community that owned the place as much as a guarantee of continuity of Lindian agency and identity in the sanctuary.34 On the contrary, the divisive architectural layout of the upper stoa limited and regulated the access to the highest and most sacred part of the sanctuary. This second, much smaller, stoa, although architecturally similar to the lower one in the use of Doric order and paraskenia, was clearly accessible to a muchreduced number of visitors. It constituted the monumental entrance, through a series of relatively narrow doors and indirect passages, to an enclosed courtyard with the temple and its altar, on one side, and a series of rooms on the other side. These rooms have been interpreted by Enzo Lippolis as hestiatoria for ritual banqueting, on the basis of one inscription from the area relating to the maintenance of an andron or dining

Behind the two wings of the Doric stoa, on both sides of the monumental staircase, there were complex suites of rooms, at least seven on each side, consisting of a central larger room, Blinkenberg 1941, inscription no.290. Lippolis 1989: 135-137. Evidence of such meals in IG xii.1. 846; 847; 848; 849; 853. 37  This is the subscription of 260 private individuals mentioned above (Blinkenberg 1941, inscription no. 51). 38  The synthesis of Morricone’s and Pugliese Carratelli’s studies is to be found in Lippolis 1989: 118-123. 39  Lippolis 1989: 148-152. Although, I would not rule out an inverse relation, where the architecture devised by the Hellenistic elite for their self-representation in civic and religious complexes rather influenced that of the residences of the kings. 40  Most of the following is based on Caliò 2016. 35  36 

The chronological and architectural reconstruction here offered is mostly based on Lippolis 1989. 34  Lippolis 1989: 155-156. Of the same opinion Ma 2013: 223. 33 

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Milena Melfi – Sanctuaries and the Hellenistic Polis: An Architectural Approach

Figure 2. Lindos: the sanctuary of Athana © Blinkenberg 1941 directly accessible from the colonnade, and two smaller ones, only accessible from the former through off-side entrances. On the basis of the epigraphical evidence, Luigi Caliò has been able to interpret these suites of rooms as hestiatoria where both the meetings of the mastroi (local magistrates who represented territorial or demographic units of the city) and official banquets of the polis, possibly during the festivals of Athana,

took place. The architectural shape of the suites of rooms also suggests that each of them could have been reserved for members of the same territorial or political unit, according to the specifics of the meeting, and could have accommodated up to nine klinai.41 Such large numbers of hestiatoria—especially 41 

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Caliò 2011 and 2011a: 351-352.

Greek Art in Motion. Studies in honour of Sir John Boardman ​on the occasion of his 90th birthday

Figure 3. Kamiros: the city and the sanctuary of Athana and Zeus © Scuola Archeologica Italiana di Atene

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Milena Melfi – Sanctuaries and the Hellenistic Polis: An Architectural Approach

Bibliography

if compared to Lindos—implies a greater participation in the sacred functions of the sanctuary. The involvement of larger parts of the demos, of the population, in the sanctuary, seems also to be confirmed by a subscription from the first half of the second century BC that raised funds for public banquets celebrated during the local Panathenaic festivals.42 The sanctuary was therefore made to be used as a place of social participation for different sectors of the civic community, all of which would have found a place in the architectural units that composed the sanctuary. It was no coincidence that such a communal and highly political space was placed in the most topographically prominent site of the city, widely accessible from city and territory, and firmly under the protection of the patron gods of all Rhodian communities.

Birtacha, P. 2008, Μεσσήνη. Τό ωδείο καί τό ανατολικό πρόπυλο τού Ασκληπιέιου. Athens. Boardman J. 1977. The Parthenon frieze—Another view. In U. Höckmann and A. Krug (eds.), Festschrift für Frank Brommer; 39-49. Mainz/Rhein: Von Zabern. Blinkenberg, C. 1941. Lindos. Fouilles de l’Acropole 1902-1914. Vol. 2, Inscriptions. Berlin: W. de Gruyter. Boardman, J. 1982. Herakles, Theseus and the Amazons, in D.C. Kurtz and Sparkes, B. (eds) The Eye of Greece: studies in the Art of Athens: 1-28. Cambridge: CUP. Caliò, L. 2016. Traditionalism in cult practice in Hellenistic and Roman Kamiros in O. Bobou and M. Melfi (eds.) Hellenistic Sanctuaries. Between Greece and Rome: 63-81. Oxford: OUP. Caliò, L. 2011. Il pasto collettivo nei santuari dell’Egeo meridionale:struttura e forme di partecipazione, in Thiasos, http://www.thiasos.eu/wp-content/uploads/2012/03/04Cali%C3%B2-Pasto-collettivo.pdf : 38-40. Caliò, L. 2011a. The agora of Kamiros. A hypothesis. In A. Giannikouri (ed.), The agora in the Mediterranean from Homeric to Roman times: 343–55. Athens: Archaeological Institute for Aegean Studies. Chlepa, E.A. 2001. Μεσσήνη. Τό Αρτεμίσιο καί οί οίκοι τής δυτικής πτερύγας τού Ασκληπιείου Athens: The Archaeological Society. Deshours, N. 2011. L’été indien de la religion civique. Bordeaux: De Boccard. Gauthier, P. 1985. Les cités grecques et leurs bienfaiteurs  : (IVe-Ier siècle av. J.-C.). Contribution à l’histoire des institutions. Paris: BCH Suppl. 12. Hansen, M.H. 2006. Polis. An introduction to the Greek city-state. Oxford: OUP. Hansen M.H. and T.H. Nielsen .2004. An Inventory of Archaic and Classical Poleis. Oxford: OUP. Ito, J. and Hayashida, Y. and Yoshitake, R. 2013. Architectural Study of the Stoas of the Asklepieion at Ancient Messene. Fukuoka : Kyūshū University Press. Kindt, J. 2009. Polis religion- A Critical Appreciation, Kernos 22: 9-34. Kindt, J. 2012. Rethinking Greek Religion. Cambridge: CUP. Lafond, Y. 2016. Euergetism and religion in the cities in the Peloponnese (first century BC to first century AD). In O. Bobou and M. Melfi (eds.) Hellenistic Sanctuaries. Between Greece and Rome:18-26. Oxford: OUP. La Rocca E. (ed.) 1988. L’ esperimento della perfezione. Arte e società nell’Atene di Pericle. Milan: Electa. Lippolis, E. 1989. Il santuario di Athana a Lindo. ASAtene 66–7: 97–157. Luraghi, N. 2008. The ancient Messenians : constructions of ethnicity and memory. Cambridge: CUP. Ma, J. 2008. Paradigms and Paradoxes in the Hellenistic world. Studi Ellenistici 20: 371-386. Melfi, M. 2007. I Santuari di Asclepio in Grecia. Roma: Bretschneider. Ma, J. 2013. Statues and cities : honorific portraits and civic identity in the Hellenistic world. Oxford: OUP. Melfi, M. 2016. Introduction. In M. Melfi and O. Bobou (eds.) Hellenistic Sanctuaries. Between Greece and Rome: 1-17. Oxford: OUP.

The architecture and the architectural narratives found at Messene and Rhodes are only a few among the many examples that confirm the uninterrupted relation between the polis and its cult places, throughout the Hellenistic period. This situation was not different from the eminent paradigm of Classical Athens where civic community and rituals found their highest expression in the architectural form of sacred buildings and their decoration. Does this mean that no change or break with tradition can be seen in hundreds of years of history, and successive political changes? Certainly not. If the relation between the polis and its sanctuaries did not change, the means and idioms used to maintain this relation underwent profound changes. These changes were born out of the tension between the conservatism of the religious establishment and the rapid development of Hellenistic society. They involved the traditional relationship between community and gods, albeit through the insertion of untraditional elements—private benefactors, kings and Romans—and applied not only to architecture and sculpture, but also to ritual and votivegiving practices. New architectural forms and relations were experimented with, and introduced new requirements and forms of representation. New systems of sculptural narratives were applied to untraditional complexes. A new relation with landscape, territory and community was sought. The concept of the citizen body also changed, to give way to new agents operating on behalf of the community: the local notables, who provided most financial means for the building, maintaining and functioning of sanctuaries and became, as suggested by Lafond, ‘the fundamental unit of polis religion’.43 The paradox lies in the fact that all these new elements had the final aim of keeping the traditional relation between communities and sanctuaries unchanged: ‘Bisogna cambiare tutto per non cambiare niente (everything must change if everything is to stay as it is)’ as Tomasi di Lampedusa in his novel, ‘The Leopard’, has Tancredi tell his uncle, Prince of Salina, regarding the annexation of Sicily to the newly formed Italian Kingdom. Since the paradox by definition defies theories and a priori mental constructions, us archaeologists, in order to understand these endless historical cycles, are left to return to the evidence, to the empirical roots of our discipline, to the humble work collecting materials, sites, images, texts, and assembling them together to reconstruct the larger picture, the way of working and thinking that John Boardman has taught us. 42  43 

Segre and Pugliese Carratelli 1951, inscription no. 159. Lafonde 2016: 26.

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Müth, S. 2007. Eigene Wege. Topographie und Stadtplan von Messene in spätklassisch-hellenistischer Zeit. Verlag Marie Leidorf: Rahden/Westf. Polignac, F. de 1984. La naissance de la cité grecque. Cultes, espace, et société, VI IIe-V IIe siècles avant J.-C. Paris: Editions de la Découverte. Polignac, F. de 1995. Cults, territory, and the origins of the Greek city-state. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Segre M. and Pugliese Carratelli G. 1951. Tituli Camirenses. In ASAtene 27-29: 141-318. Sioumpara E. 2011. Der Asklepios-Tempel von Messene auf der Peloponnese. Munich: DAI. Sioumpara E. 2015. Doric innovations on the conservative landscape of Peloponnese during the Hellenistic period. In J. des Courtils ed. L’Architecture monumentale grecque au IIIe siècle a.C.: 197-221. Bourdeaux: Ausonius. Sourvinou-Inwood, C. 1990. What is polis religion? in O. Murray and S. Price (eds.), The Greek City: from Homer to Alexander: 195-222. Oxford: OUP.

Sourvinou-Inwood, C. 2000. What is polis religion?, in R.G.A. Buxton (ed.) Oxford Readings in Greek Religion: 13-37. Oxford: OUP. Themelis P. 1994. Arthemis Ortheia at Messene. The Epigraphical and Archaeological Evidence. In R. Hägg (ed.), Ancient Greek Cult Practice from the Epigraphical Evidence. Proceedings of the 2nd International Seminar at the Swedish Institute at Athens, 22-24 Novembre 1991:101-122. Stockholm: Jonsered. Themelis P. 1996. Damophon. In O. Palagia and J.J. Pollitt (eds.) Personal Styles in Greek Sculpture: 154-185. Cambridge: CUP. Themelis, P. 2000. Ηρώες καί ηρώα στή Μεσσήνη. Athens: The Archaeological Society. Torelli, M. 1998. L’Asklepieion di Messene, lo scultore Damofonte e Pausania in G. Capecchi et al. (eds.) Studi in memoria di Enrico Paribeni: 465-489. Rome: Bretschneider. Will, E. 1979. Le monde hellenistique et nous. AncSoc 10: 79-95.

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‘Even the fragments, however, merit scrutiny’:1 Ancient Terracottas in the Field and the Museum Lucilla Burn Introduction1

site work is vital if we wish to shed new light on museum material. For good measure he suggested that within classical archaeological scholarship an entrenched Atheno-centric view of Mediterranean culture remains hard to shake off, while the independent cultures of other regions are both equally distinctive and more urgently in need of investigation.

‘no-one in the study of Antiquity has ever had clean hands’ concludes Professor James Whitley in an article published in the Journal of Mediterranean Archaeology in 2016.2 Whitley was responding to an article published by Professor Robin Osborne in the same journal twelve months earlier.3 Crudely to over-simplify his argument, Osborne had suggested that some classical archaeologists tend to over-privilege the importance of an object’s excavation context at the expense of other factors and contexts that could potentially contribute as much if not more to our understanding of its ancient status or significance. He therefore argued that it might be more time- and cost-effective to devote less energy to excavation and more to the study and assessment of objects in museum stores; and he offered as one of his case studies a detailed analysis of the iconographic schemes of six randomly chosen Athenian red-figured pelikai in the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge. Through an examination of the identities, status, postures and expressions of the usually paired figures who appear on these pots (to some extent a formal result of the shape of field at their painters’ disposal), he argued that analysing the iconography of these vessels enables us to pose and consider questions of relationships, especially of dominance, that would have been real and relevant to ancient viewers and users. This, he suggested, is at least as and possibly more enlightening than focusing on the Etruscan tombs in which the vessels had probably ended up, and certainly more worthwhile than bemoaning the fact that many such items in older museum collections are now irretrievably divorced from their findspots.

Of course, both Osborne’s and Whitley’s approaches and points of view are valid; and equally, both arguments are at times provocatively over-stated for the purposes of making their authors’ respective cases. With regard, specifically, to the merits of excavation contexts versus museum studies, neither scholar actually denies the validity of the other’s viewpoint. Osborne is not dismissing the importance of the excavation context, merely pointing out that an object’s final resting place represents a single moment in its history, and is just one of many factors and contexts to be taken into account in trying to reconstruct its ancient meaning or significance. And Whitley for his part is a diligent comber through old museum material and excavation reports to complement the new evidence his and others’ field-work brings to light. Indeed many, if not most, readers of this pair of articles would surely conclude that together they form an excellent demonstration of the benefits of a multi-directional approach to the material remains of antiquity. However, Osborne and Whitley’s stimulating pair of articles together inspired the idea of exploring the relative, or complementary, contributions that the study of terracottas with detailed excavation contexts, and of those seemingly marooned in museum stores or displays, can make towards our understanding of their ancient significances. Whitley’s lesser charge, that of the Atheno-centricism of classical archaeological studies, certainly does not apply to researches into ancient terracottas: while Athens was of course an important centre of terracotta production throughout antiquity, it was one of many. If the famous Hellenistic ‘Tanagra’ style most probably originated in Athens, many more, and more complete, examples have been found in Boeotia. And as demonstrated by the recent monumental publication of the 2007 Izmir Ancient Terracotta conference, in which papers relating to museum collections of terracottas were presented alongside those discussing more recently excavated material, the focus of coroplastic studies has increasingly been turning towards material from the eastern Mediterranean.4 It does remain true, however, that post-Minoan Crete, one of the principal areas of Whitley’s own scholarship, remains woefully under-studied in terracotta terms. Given the known range and quality of Cretan terracottas, it is perhaps surprising that only one of the ninety-odd otherwise wide-ranging contributions to the Izmir terracotta conference publications features Cretan material.5 Among the many achievements

As a career-long museum curator, and formerly the guardian of the vessels he was discussing, I was predictably disposed to find Osborne’s argument appealing. But it was probably equally predictable that Professor Whitley, a former Director of the British School at Athens and the director of numerous important and productive excavations on Mediterranean sites in recent years, would react very differently, as he duly did. As part of his argument, Whitley deployed a detailed and illuminating analysis of the archaeological context of the archaic and also later, Classical and Hellenistic, terracotta plaques from his own and earlier archaeological campaigns in and around Praisos in east central Crete, to argue that their excavation context was of primary importance in any approach to understanding their significance, and that in general terms, more, and more careful, excavation and Erickson 2009: 357. I am grateful to the organisers of the Lisbon Conference for inviting me to speak, and to friends and former colleagues in the British Museum, London, the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford and the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge, for enabling me to study the terracottas in these collections and for assistance in acquiring photographs. 2  Whitley 2016: The quotation is on p.261. 3  Osborne 2015. 1 

4  5 

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Muller, Lafli, and Huysecom-Haxhi, 2015 /16. A Duplouy and A Zambon 2015/16. Des Terres Cuites pour Déméter.

Greek Art in Motion. Studies in honour of Sir John Boardman ​on the occasion of his 90th birthday

of (Louvre curator) Violaine Jeanmet’s magnificent Tanagra exhibition, research project and accompanying landmark publications of 2003-7,6 was the attention she drew to a tomb near Khania that contained four examples of a particularly large and beautiful Tanagra type, known as ‘la dame en bleu’ after the finest of four examples unearthed at Tanagra in the nineteenth-century and subsequently dispersed between Paris and Berlin. The Khania tomb, in which the terracotta figures were seemingly deliberately placed around the rim of the grave, as it were on the threshold between two worlds, is a vivid example of the possible deployment of such figures, a suggestion of the potential final context of many ‘museum’ terracottas; at the same time it expands our knowledge of the export and diffusion of Tanagra types across the Mediterranean.7 However, there are doubtless still hundreds of Cretan terracottas - or terracottas found in Crete - in museums all around the world that stand in need of the type of re-interpretation or -contextualisation that only excavations can provide.8 Whitley’s discussion of the archaic terracotta plaques from Praisos was a reminder, moreover, that these are among the relatively few groups of terracottas that Sir John Boardman has ever favoured with his attention. This was in his 1961 publication The Cretan Collection: the Dictaean Cave and Iron Age Crete,9 a groundbreaking assessment of the previously little-regarded postMinoan material from Crete – from terracottas to seals, ivories and bronzes - that had accumulated in the Ashmolean Museum through the work of both Arthur Evans and various British School excavations. John’s short spell as Assistant Keeper in the Museum from 1955 to 59 enabled him to sort, research and publish this material and to establish a baseline on which others could extend our understanding of this period and culture. The Cretan Collection, along with John’s even-handed approach to and equal interest in newly excavated, museum or private collection material, suggest that the 2017 Lisbon colloquium and this commemorative volume in his honour afford an appropriate opportunity to revisit these plaques in their several contexts, including that of the Osborne / Whitley debate.

Figure 1. Terracotta plaque: female figure seated with a child. © Fitzwilliam Museum, University of Cambridge (GR.49.1901) objects. This particular plaque, which is as extant 9 cms in height, and 6 wide, was acquired by the Fitzwilliam in 1901 as part of a large group of material purchased through John Marshall, who was active in Crete in the early twentieth century both in the British School excavations and in collecting for the Fitzwilliam. It is said to be from Lato near Kritsa in eastern Crete, south-west of Hagios Nikolaos. The second, only partially preserved Fitzwilliam plaque (Figure 2), shows the upper part of a standing male figure, facing left and wearing a long, calf-length tunic, and is from Praisos; it too was acquired in 1901 through Marshall, who reported it was ‘bought from a peasant’.11 There are better preserved examples of both types in the Ashmolean Museum (Figuress 3 and 4):12 the plaque with the male figure, both one of the commonest and as we shall see a highly intriguing type, was described by John Boardman as being

Introducing the Plaques To focus first on the examples in British museums, the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge houses only two examples of these archaic Cretan terracotta plaques. The more complete plaque (Figure1) shows a female figure seated facing to the right, with a child on her lap.10 The Fitzwilliam plaque is very worn, or taken from a worn mould, as is characteristic of almost all the plaques known – suggesting that aesthetic considerations were not especially important to the purchasers, dedicators or indeed producers of these

‘from a large series with a man standing in profile to the left and holding a staff, which was painted on the background of the plaque. The example from Oxford … is from Praisos where many of these have been found. It is complete but it was carelessly made as the mould was allowed to shift and a double contour appears in some places. The calf-length dress is unusual: Cretan tunics usually reach to the knee, but this is nearer the full-length dresses worn by women. The short wig is often met in Crete… The last third of the seventh century seems the earliest likely date for such a figure.’ 13

Observations sur la petite plastique du sanctuaire de Vamies (Itanos, Crète). In Muller, Lafli, and Huysecom-Haxhi, 2015 /16: vol.2: 481-6. 6  Jeanmet 2003; Jeanmet 2007. 7  Jeanmet 2003: 194 with n.5. 8  To take just one example, see the terracotta figure British Museum, GR.1894,1107.1, Burn and Higgins 2001: no.2249. Acquired from George Dennis in 1894 and said to be ‘from Chania’ this monumental figure, perhaps a goddess or a priestess, is currently without published parallels. The figure’s excellent state of preservation suggests it is most likely to have been found in a tomb. But only if comparable figures come to light in documented contexts are we likely to make much progress in identifying its identity or significance. 9  Boardman 1961. 10  Fitzwilliam Museum, GR.49.1901.

Several more examples of these plaque types and others, including naked goddess or ‘Astarte’ figures, running warriors and warriors abducting youths, may be found in Fitzwilliam Museum, GR.48.1901. For provenance see Fitzwilliam Museum slip-book. 12  Ashmolean Museum, AN 1896-1908 G.706.a (the female figure) and AN 1896-1908 AE.193 (the male). 13  Boardman 1961:110. 11 

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Lucilla Burn – ‘Even the fragments, however, merit scrutiny’

Figure 2. Terracotta plaque: standing male figure. © Fitzwilliam Museum, University of Cambridge (GR.48.1901)

Figure 3. Terracotta plaque: female figure seated with a child. © Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford (AN 1896-1908 AE.193)

museums around the world, including the British Museum, the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York and the Musée du Louvre, Paris.14 The plaques are typically around 12.5 cms high by 4.5 wide, and between 0.5 and 1 cm in thickness. As Whitley has recently summarised,15 the known Cretan votive plaques of these types derive for the most part from expeditions and excavations undertaken by archaeologists of various nationalities in the 1890s and early 1900s. The large group now in the Metropolitan Museum of Art was excavated under American auspices by the Italian archaeologist Federico Halbherr, who was the first to publish an account of them in the American Journal of Archaeology in 1901.16 The relatively few examples in the Louvre were donated by the French School at Athens, while the small numbers in Oxford and Cambridge and a larger group in the British Museum derive for the most part from the British School at Athens’ earlytwentieth-century expeditions, and (as the recorded origins of the Fitzwilliam examples demonstrate) the occasions these offered for the purchase of related material, in central and eastern Crete. The material excavated by the British School was first published and a basic typology established, building on the descriptions and publications of Halbherr, by Edward S. Forster in two articles in the Journal of the British School at Athens between 1901 and 1905.17 Though Praisos itself, and its ancient territory, is a major centre for their discovery, the For the British Museum see Higgins 1954: nos 575-606. For the Metropolitan Museum of Art examples, MMA 53.5.4-47 see: (viewed 11.9.2017). For the Louvre examples see Mollard-Besques 1954: 30-31 and pl.22. http://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection#!?q=Praisos&perPage= 20&sortBy=Relevance&sortOrder=asc&offset=0&pageSize=0 15  Whitley 2016. 16  Halbherr 1901. The Metropolitan Museum series (see note 14) was donated in 1953 by the Archaeological Institute of America. See also the brief history of the Metropolitan’s ancient terracotta collection by Kiki Karoglou: https://acost.revues.org/798. (viewed 11.9.2017). 17  Forster 1901/2 and 1904/5. 14 

Figure 4. Terracotta plaque: standing male figure. © Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford (AN 1896-1908 G.706a)

25

Greek Art in Motion. Studies in honour of Sir John Boardman ​on the occasion of his 90th birthday

plaques have also been found at other sites in eastern Crete; the majority can be dated on both stylistic and contextual grounds to the Archaic period, but their production and dedication continued through the Classical and Hellenistic periods, with the subject-matter remaining remarkably constant.

either of the naked goddess type or the male figure in calflength tunic, that the deity of the Roussa Ekklesia sanctuary was female – the ratio of the ‘goddess’ plaques to those of the male figures, whom he sees as votaries, is roughly 2:1. But he suggests, from the high numbers of male figure plaques that the sanctuary was not simply frequented by women, and that male worshippers were also present. Beyond that deduction he warns that ‘only at the most basic level do terracottas have uncontested meanings for us. They should be read as physical manifestations of prayers and personal expressions of piety.’21 Whitley agrees, drawing attention to the importance of the sacred landscape of these rural shrines overall, in addition to the significance of the rituals, some of which we may start to understand better through the rigorous collection and analysis of faunal and vegetal remains that his and others’ work now prioritises. Both scholars are also interested in questions of where and how sanctuary practices fit within and can illuminate the larger, overall picture of archaic Cretan society; here again they are in agreement that whatever their precise role in ritual, the plaques, with the continuity of iconography over several centuries that they demonstrate, may have played a part in establishing and cementing civic identity.

According to Whitley, some 170 archaic examples altogether are known, both from the old excavations just mentioned and from more recent field-work, including his own.18 Over the last twenty years he and others have been looking in some detail at the sites where the plaques were found, especially the spring sanctuary site of Vavelloi at Praisos, but also other sites within the ancient territory of Praisos, in order to clarify the contexts of their deposition. Within the archaic plaque group Whitley distinguishes fourteen principal subjects, of which naked goddesses (the so-called ‘Astarte’ type) and other female figures, warriors, (including examples of a warrior abducting a youth), youths with hand on hip and the male figures wearing calf-length tunics already noted, are the most numerous. In addition, around thirty-six Classical or Hellenistic plaques are known, largely of the same or similar subjects. Whitley has been able to show convincingly that while the naked female goddess type is widespread in eastern Crete, almost all known examples of five specific types (female figure with a tympanon, warrior, warrior abducting a youth, youth with hand on hip and male figure wearing calf-length tunic) were found within the territory of Praisos, the great majority at just two spring sanctuary sites, Vavelloi at Praisos itself and the outlying sanctuary of Roussa Ekklesia, southeast of Siteia.

The iconography of the male figure in the calf-length tunic has intrigued and challenged several scholars over the last 100 or so years. In the early 1900s both Halbherr and Forster debated whether the figure was male or female but Forster eventually concluded that while the long garment of the figure was unusual for a male figure, the short wig-style hair looked male rather than female, and this reasoning has been subsequently accepted.22 It was Halbherr who suggested that the figure originally held a painted staff, an idea later adopted by Boardman. Reynold Higgins, however, who published the three British Museum examples of the type in his first, 1954, volume of the Museum’s Catalogue of Terracottas,23 argued that the dress and attitude of the figure might suggest he was a charioteer. This idea found little favour; nor has the theory of the painted staff been generally accepted, since it would have been easy for the coroplast to incise a broad line in the mould to create a staff in relief, and no traces of paint have been found on any of the plaques, even those freshly excavated.

One of the questions that frequently exercises terracotta scholarship is whether terracottas, individually or in groups, can bestow meaning on a context through their form or iconography, or whether the reverse is true, that their significance purely derives from and so can vary with, its context. The second hypothesis is generally more popular, given the possibilities mould-made objects afford for mass production, and the regularity with which certain popular types, such as classic ‘Tanagras’, turn up in tombs, sanctuaries or even domestic contexts. With reference to the archaic Cretan plaques, Whitley and other experts in the archaeology and society of ancient Crete, including Professor Brice Erickson of the University of California at Santa Barbara, are sensibly but cautiously open to both points of view. They are especially focused on the warrior and warrior-abductingyouth types, because of the leads these might offer towards our understanding of initiation rites, and of the social and political structures of archaic Cretan society. But Erickson, who in 2009 published the plaques excavated by Professors Platon and Papadakis in the 1950s and 80s at Roussa Ekklesia and now in the museum at Siteia,19 offers salutary warnings as to the limits of the evidence these terracottas can offer with regard to the nature of the worship that went on either there or at the similar spring sanctuary at Vavelloi (Praisos). He argues that votive offerings like plaques, vessels or lamps, ‘undoubtedly had a subsidiary role to animal sacrifice or libations’.20 He thinks it reasonable to deduce from the imagery of the Roussa Ekklesia plaques, which were predominantly

Higgins proved more enduringly influential in his assertion that ‘cracks in the mould’24 were responsible for the apparent arrangement of straps that seems to cross the man’s left elbow, a theory that was fairly universally accepted or at least frequently repeated until 2009 when it was definitively squashed by Erickson in his illuminating study of the forty fragmentary Roussa Ekklesia examples of the type. While his study makes every effort to restore this material to its archaeological context and to investigate its wider, cultural significance, the focus on the detail of the plaques themselves, their clay, technique and iconography, was surely promoted by the fact that he was able to study them at one remove from their excavation context, in museum conditions. Discussing the ‘cracks in the mould’, he pointed out that since this supposed fault is universally present on every plaque known, and evident on plaques taken from more Erickson 2009: 376. Halbherr 1901: 389; Forster 1904/5: 248. 23  Higgins 1954: nos.582, 3 and 4. 24  Higgins 1954: no. 582. 21 

Whitley 2016: 257-8. 19  Erickson 2009. 20  Erickson 2009: 376. 18 

22 

26

Lucilla Burn – ‘Even the fragments, however, merit scrutiny’

range of possibilities present themselves: while an aryballos is certainly simple and quite probable, a small satchel for seeds28 or even a censer could also be considered. Erickson has also carefully analysed the dress of the figure, paying due tribute to Boardman’s references to the patterned borders of the garments worn by contemporary offering bearers on, for example, bronze plaques from Kato Syme,29 and pointing out that this may reinforce his interpretation of the figure as a votary. Nor should his suggestion that the raised right hand is intended to be holding a flower be discounted, as this too would be appropriate in the context and it is perhaps possible to discern faint outlines of a small object beyond the fingers on some plaques. Erickson’s overall conclusion is that the figure is most definitely likely to represent a votary, his compromise-length dress, besides his other possible attributes suggesting that he may be an adolescent boy, on the verge of crossing the threshold from child- to adult-hood. Back to the Museum While he concurs with Whitley as to the desirability of studying these terracotta plaques in their excavation contexts, Erickson shows how our understanding of them can be complemented, indeed extended, by detailed, museum-based study of the artefacts themselves. So following his example, it seemed worthwhile returning to some of the plaques found in the excavations of over 100 years ago, to see what more information can be gleaned from them today. Careful study of the surviving half of the Fitzwilliam’s sole male with calflength garment plaque (Figure 2) revealed only that the clay was fine, smooth, and hard fired, the back surface uneven, with finger-marks evident in the clay: the strap around the left arm does, however, appear quite clearly. As for the three British Museum examples,30 the most complete plaque is in extremely poor condition, and the other two fragments do not preserve the crucial area around the left elbow. However, a few observations can still be made about their clay and technique. Visually, the character of the clay seems consonant with that observed by Erickson for the Roussa Ekklesia group, being relatively fine with few inclusions, and traces of a creamcoloured slip are visible on the two smaller fragments, though not on the most complete example, which is more softly fired than the other two. The British Museum warrior plaques, on the other hand, are mainly of a much rougher, coarser clay, similar again to a few of the Roussa Ekklesia plaques, and they are much less well fired.

Figure 5. Composite drawing of the standing male figure plaque type; Erickson 2009, fig. 11 (drawing by B. Christopher); courtesy American Journal of Archaeology and Archaeological Institute of America than one mould series, it is not the result of an accidental defect but rather a potentially intriguing iconographic detail. His suggestion is that the figure carries an aryballos hanging from a thong wrapped round his left elbow, a hypothesis demonstrated by the very useful composite drawing of the plaque that he provides (Figure 5).25 There are difficulties with his interpretation; because this detail is so near the edge of every plaque, where the blurring of already rather softly modelled details is most likely to occur, it remains very hard to read; while an actual aryballos may be imagined with the eye of faith on some plaques, and parallels with figures on Assyrian reliefs26 are tempting, if imprecise, it is hard to see exactly how the strap arrangement is functioning; Erickson’s proposal that the aryballos is ‘suspended from the arm and attached to the body by a stay’27 is difficult fully to realise. However, if we agree that an item of some sort, most probably a votive or other ritual object, is being carried, a

The late Richard Nicholls, a great expert on archaic and classical terracottas and first Keeper of Antiquities at the Fitzwilliam Museum, suggested to John Boardman that the plaques were made by carving the designs directly into the mould, rather than by making a model and moulding from it;31 presumably he deduced this from the shallowness of the relief and indeed of the plaques overall. At all events, the Fitzwilliam and British Museum male votary plaques, which display concave areas on the back, were evidently made from a single, thin sheet of clay pressed into the mould. Although

Erickson 2009, fig. 11 (drawing by B. Christopher); reproduced here courtesy American Journal of Archaeology and Archaeological Institute of America. 26  Many figures both human and divine on Assyrian reliefs wear straps or bracelets around the arm above the elbow, and carry ladles or small boxes, but I have not as yet been able to find an example of a figure suspending something from the elbow strap. See for the position of the armlet, of many possibilities, the two figures on Assyrian relief British Museum 124567, http://www.britishmuseum.org/ research/collection_online/collection_object_details.aspx?objectId =367023&partId=1&searchText=Assyrian+relief&images=true&page =1 (viewed 26.9.2017) 27  Erickson 2009: 370. 25 

As carried, for example, by Aristaios on an Attic black-figured amphora in Kassel, attributed to The Affecter, Kassel T679, Paralipomena 111.25bis, Beazley Archive 340429. 29  Boardman 1961: 110. 30  Higgins 1954: nos. 582,3 and 4. 31  Nicholls’ suggestion is recorded in Boardman 1961: 109, n.6. 28 

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Greek Art in Motion. Studies in honour of Sir John Boardman ​on the occasion of his 90th birthday

Figure 6. Reynold Higgins’ note in the Departmental Register of the Department of Greece and Rome, British Museum, reproduced courtesy of the British Museum one of the British Museum examples32 appears in section to consist of three layers of clay, these were probably pressed together as one sheet before pressing into the mould. Some of the larger, coarser warrior plaques demonstrate a slightly different technique: while elements of their design, notably the shields, appear in high relief on the front, the plaques generally have fairly smooth, flat backs, a result produced by first filling the circular impression for the shield with a separate piece of clay, then pressing a flat piece over the mould as a whole, and smoothing out the upper surface.

recognition that the terracottas were so close to those he had originally catalogued that there could be no doubt as to their origin. This is confirmed by examination of both the registers, which include Downing’s neat sketches of the familiar naked goddess and running warrior types, and of the material itself, now neatly and accessibly stored in the British Museum’s well-ordered basements (Figure 7). While one might be tempted to criticise Higgins for overlooking this group in the early 1950s, it should be remembered that the British Museum and its collections took some time to recover from the major damage and disruption caused by the Second World War, during which the collections had been dispersed in several different locations both within and outside the Museum. Large parts of the Greek and Roman collections indeed remained inaccessible until the 1960s. Interestingly enough, Higgins does seem to have come across a few that had escaped registration in 1907, since three of those in his 1954 catalogue were registered in 1948, the year after he entered the Museum and started to study the terracottas.35 But it seems likely that the main additional group, unregistered in 1907, had become separated from the main series and so over-looked until the British Museum embarked on a large-scale project to register previously unregistered material in the 1970s.

Significant in terms of the British Museum’s Praisos material is the recognition that there is considerably more of it than the seventeen plaques and fifteen free-standing figures or protomes donated by the British School at Athens (and almost all registered) in 1907 and published in Higgins’ 1954 Catalogue.33 A search for Praisos on the Museum’s website produces an additional sixty-two terracottas from the site that were registered in 1973, nineteen years after the Catalogue was published.34 In the Greek and Roman Department’s Register, this 1973 sequence is headed by a note in Higgins’ hand that says ‘found unregistered, all together’ (Figure 6) and a supplementary note in the hand of the then documentation assistant, Michael Downing:‘On internal evidence, almost certainly from Praisos and acquired with 1907.1-19.60-90’ - in other words, the original Praisos sequence. This ‘internal evidence’ was surely Higgins’ own

As Erickson pointed out with reference to the Roussa Ekklesia material, ‘Even the fragments … merit scrutiny, for not only can they document previously unknown types, or throw light on particular iconographic details’ but also ‘documenting the frequency of artefacts can reveal shifts in the popularity

Higgins 1954: no. 584. Higgins 1954: nos.575-606. 34  These additional fragments are part of the registration sequence GR.1973.0420.1-60. They are most conveniently consulted via the British Museum website: see http://www.britishmuseum.org/ research/collection_online/search.aspx?searchText=Praisos (viewed 11.9.17). 32  33 

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28

Higgins 1954: nos. 577, 578 and 586.

Lucilla Burn – ‘Even the fragments, however, merit scrutiny’

Figure 7. Some of the additional fragments of Praisos terracottas stored in the British Museum, reproduced courtesy of the British Museum of votive types and changes in religious practice’.36 Whitley produces charts detailing numbers of each type of plaque recorded either from excavations or museum catalogues: he uses these to draw conclusions about the relative popularity of different types at different sites and periods. As already mentioned, in total he records 206 plaques, 170 from the archaic and 36 from the classical and Hellenistic periods, but for the British Museum he is reliant on Higgins’ 1954 catalogue and apparently unaware of the additional ‘1973’ examples. 37

he has already identified as dominant at Praisos. Does this mean that recognition of their existence is not particularly significant? Surely not: when the sample is so small, it will certainly be worthwhile to include these additional museum examples in future analyses, and thereby hone a truly ‘symbiotic’,38 combined field- and museum-study approach, to ancient material culture.

Of the sixty-two terracotta items in the 1973 registration sequence, nine are fragments of free-standing figures, one is a bull’s head protome, and four fragments are too small or indistinct to be readily identifiable. The remaining forty-eight identifiable plaque fragments comprise twenty-five examples of the naked female deity type, and twenty-three warriors; disappointingly they include no additional examples of the male in calf-length tunic type. While the majority of the naked female deities appear to be archaic, a proportion of the warriors may belong to the classical or later series. The forty-eight additional examples certainly increase Whitley’s overall figure by around 25%. Interestingly, however, they do not drastically alter, but rather reinforce the conclusions he draws from his original corpus, since the two types are those

So what, if anything, might we conclude with regard to the overall question of the relative ‘value’ of studying terracottas in the field or the museum? The common-sense conclusion, with which Sir John Boardman would certainly agree, and which his wide-ranging research into ancient art and archaeology exemplifies, is obviously that it is not meaningful to privilege one approach above the other, or even to suppose that the two can be decisively or usefully separated. Nor is the distinction in terms of provenance information between terracottas found in efficiently documented modern excavations and those in old collections with rather vaguer records of their provenance always cut and dry. However, on balance it does seem to be the case that ‘minor objects’ like these plaques do stand in greater need of an appreciation of their probable excavation contexts in order to elucidate their

36  37 

General Conclusions

Erickson 2009: 357. Whitley 2016: 257-8.

38 

29

Whitley 2016: 260.

Greek Art in Motion. Studies in honour of Sir John Boardman ​on the occasion of his 90th birthday

Bibliography

meaning or function than more prestigious types of object. Terracottas differ from, say, bronze or marble sculpture or indeed Athenian red-figured pelikai, in that they are less likely to travel far from their site of manufacture, and less likely to have been ‘used’ more than once; this means that their findspots, their final resting places, are in all probability quite close to the sites where they were manufactured, and where they functioned; such objects have attracted fewer contexts, amassed shorter personal biographies, than more valuable items. In other words, their findspots may well be more significant in terms of helping us to grasp their ancient meaning, than is necessarily or will always be the case with the more complex sequences of uses and contexts that more valuable objects may have experienced. Following on from this, it becomes undeniable that many ‘museum’ terracottas, while offering excellent opportunities for analysis of clays, techniques and iconographies, would greatly benefit from being re-contextualised within their actual findspots, where these can be documented, or artificially (and ‘virtually’) inserted into the findspots of comparable items where their own are irretrievably lost.39 In order for this to happen there is a need for both old museum collections and material from recent excavations to be properly published and assessed. Many museums have made great strides in recent decades in making their collections available online. But quantities of the terracottas excavated over the last fifty or so years, whether stored in museums or excavation repositories, still await full publication. Collaboration and pooling of knowledge and resources on the part of excavators, curators and all other scholars, as exemplified by the 2007 Izmir ancient terracotta conference, must surely be the best way forward. And so far as Crete is concerned, there are still great opportunities to continue the study of the island’s post-Minoan cultures, so ably pioneered by Sir John Boardman.

39 

Boardman, J. 1961. The Cretan Collection in Oxford: The Dictaean Cave and Iron Age Crete. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Burn, L.M. and Higgins, R.A. 2001. Catalogue of Terracottas in the British Museum vol.3. London: British Museum. Erickson, B. 2009. Roussa Ekklesia, Part 1: Religion and Politics in East Crete. In AJA 113.3: 353-404. Forster, E.S. 1901/2. Praesos: the Terracottas. In BSA 8: 271-81. Forster, E.S. 1904/5. Terracotta Plaques from Praesos, East Crete. In BSA 11: 243-57. Halbherr, F. 1901. Cretan Expedition XVI. Report on the Researches at Praesos. In AJA 5.4: 371-92. Higgins, R.A. 1954. Catalogue of Greek Terracottas in the British Museum vol.1. London: British Museum. Jeanmet, V. 2003. Tanagra. Mythe et Archéologie, Exposition Paris-Montréal 2003-2004 Paris: Réunion des Musées Nationaux. Jeanmet, V. 2007 (ed.). Tanagras. De l’objet de collection à l’objet archéologique. Paris: Réunion des Musées Nationaux. Mollard-Besques, S. 1954. Museé du Louvre. Catalogue raisonné des figurines et reliefs en terre cuite grecs, étrusques et romaines vol.1. Paris: Réunion des Musées Nationaux. Muller, A., Lafli, E., and Huysecom-Haxhi, S. 2015 /16. Figurines de terre cuite en Méditerranée grecque et romaine, vol.1, Athens and Paris (BCH Supplement 54), and vol. 2, Villeneuve d’Ascq, Septentrion Press. Osborne, R. 2015. De-contextualising and Re-contextualising: Why Mediterranean Archaeology Needs to Get out of the Trench and Back into the Museum. In Journal of Mediterranean Archaeology 28.2: 241-61. Whitley, J. 2016. Fusing the Horizons, or Why Context Matters: The Interdependence of Fieldwork and Museum Study in Mediterranean Archaeology. In Journal of Mediterranean Archaeology 29.2: 247-69.

This view is eloquently propounded by Jeanmet, 2007: 43.

30

The Good, the Bad, and the Misleading: A Network of Names on (Mainly) Athenian Vases. Thomas Mannack The earliest inscriptions

Athens bear the painted signature ‘ΣΟΦΙΛΟΣ ΜΕΓΡΑΦΣΕΝ’.8 A third dinos in Athens is signed ‘ΣΟΦΙΛΟΣ ΜΕΠΟΕΣΕΝ OR ΜΕΓΡΑΦΣΕΝ’.9 On the mixing vase excavated in Thessaly10 Sophilos also added the earliest known caption: ‘ΠΑΤΡΟϙΛΥΣ ΑΤΛΑ’.

The earliest Greek inscriptions are incised graffiti on geometric pottery from around the middle of the 8th century. They were usually inscribed by their owners some time after the purchase. A late geometric oinochoe found in Athens1 was presented as a prize in a dancing competition and bears the incised inscription HOΣ ΝYΝ OΡΧΕΣΤÔΝ ΠΆΝΤΟΝ AΤΑΛΌΤΑΤΑ ΠΑΊΖΕΙ, ΤÔ ΤΌΔΕ ΚΛ[.]ΜΙΝ[...], ‘Whoever of all these dancers now plays most delicately, to him this ...’ on the black shoulder. Other vases name their owners, one of whom was clearly worried to lose a prize possession since he wrote ‘I am the cup of Hakesandros … whoever steals me … will lose his eyesight’ on a late geometric cup excavated in Methone.2 Sir John Boardman donated an Attic late geometric fragment from Al Mina with an incised graffito …]ναβεο[… to the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford.3 A late geometric Euboean skyphos, found in Pithekoussai4 and usually dated 740/720, preseves the first reference to the works of Homer: ‘ΝΈΣΤΟΡΟΣ [....] ΕΠΟΤ[ΟΝ] ΠΟΤΉΡΙΟ[Ν] OΣ Δ’ AΝ ΤΟYΔΕ Π[ΊΗΣΙ] ΠΟΤΗΡΊ[ΟΥ] ΑYΤΊΚΑ ΚHΝΟΝ HIΜΕΡ[ΟΣ ΑIΡ]ΉΣΕΙ ΚΑΛΛΙΣΤ[ΕΦΆΝ]ΟΥ ἈΦΡΟΔΊΤΗΣ›.

Corinthian vase-painters began to sign their works in the second quarter of the sixth century. Most of these signatures appear on pottery dedications in sanctuaries, particularly the sanctuary of Poseidon at Penteskouphia.11 The artist usually signs as maker and giver; Milonidas wrote ’Mιλονιδασμεγραψεκανεϑεκε’ on a plaque found in the Poseidon sanctuary.12 A much humbler skyphos dated around 560 found in Corinth is inscribed with an unusually phrased signature ‘EΧΕΚΛΕΣ ΑΝΕ[ΘΕΚ]Ε ΠΟΕΣΑ[Σ]’ .13 The name of the maker Echekles may also appear on a fragmentary blackfigure Panathenaic amphora from the Athenian Acropolis dated around 550.14 The reading is far from certain: J.D. Beazley follows B. Graef and E. Langlotz reading [ΚΑΛΟ] Σ̣? ΕΧΕΚΛΕ[Σ].15 H. Immerwahr records the inscription as ‘FΕΧΕΚΛΕ[ΙΔΕΣ ...’,16 and agrees with A. Johnston17 who interprets the inscription as a potter’s signature. This raises the –admittedly remote – possibility that a Corinthian potter moved to Athens to ply his trade.

Signatures The earliest known signature, …ΙΝΟΣ ΜΕΠΟΙΕΣΕ., occurs on a krater fragment found in Pithekoussai dated around 700/680.5 It is generally assumed that ‘epoiesen’ refers to the potter,6 but it is possible that it also denoted ‘potted and painted’; the artist responsible for the fragment may have been particularly proud of his frontal face, the earliest in Greek vase painting. Around 650 a West Greek artist signed a large bell-krater with Odysseus blinding Polyphemus on the obverse and a naval battle on the reverse ‘AΡΙΣΤΟΝΟΘΟΣΜΕΠΟΙΕΣΕΝ’ using the Euboean script.7 Sophilos was the first Athenian artist to sign vases around 580, a dinos in London and two dinoi in

Inscriptions Representing Speech Few inscriptions representing speech include names. Exekias’ Ajax and Achilles shout out numbers,18 the man on Euphronios’ pelike in St. Petersburg invokes Herakles,19 and the males on a fragmentary cup from the Acropolis invoke benevolent demons and Zeus.20 Proper names appear to have been inspired by recent events, such as Eurymedon on the Athens, National Museum, 15165, 15499, London, British Museum, 1971.11-1.1, ABV 39.15. 16 Para 19.16bis; Boardman, ABFV, 28-29, figs. 24-6; Williams, D., Greek Vases in the J. Paul Getty Museum 1 (1983) 13-34. 9  Athens, National Museum, 2035.1, ABV 42.36. 10  Athens, National Museum, 15499. 11  Wachter, R., Non-attic Greek vase inscriptions (Oxford, 2001) 119-155. 12  Black-figure Corinthian plaque, Paris, Louvre, MNC 212, Cuomo di Caprio, N., ‘Pottery Kilns on Pinakes from Corinth’, Ancient Greek and Related Pottery, Proceedings of the International Vase Symposium 5 (Amsterdam, 1984) 72-82. 13  Newhall, A.E., ‘The Corinthian Keramikos’, AJA 25 (1931) 10; Payne, H., Necrocorinthia, a study of Corinthian art in the archaic period (Oxford, 1931) 2270. 14  Athens, National Museum, Acropolis Coll.: 1.914, CAVI 997; ABV 666; Bentz, M., Panathenäische Preisamphoren, Eine athenische Vasengattung und ihre Funktion vom 6.-4. Jahrhundert v. Chr. 18. Beihefte zur Antiken Kunst (Basel, 1998) pl. 10.6020. Attic Script, no. 956. Cf. LGPN II, 192, s.v. Eχεκλης. 15  Graef–Langlotz, 1, pl. 60.914; ABV 666. 16  CAVI 997. 17  Johnston, A., ZPE 54 (1984) 115-117. 18  Vatican City, Museo Gregoriano Etrusco, 16757, CAVI 6979. 19  St. Petersburg, State Hermitage Museum, 615, CAVI 7346. 20  Athens, N.M. Acr. 2.434, CAVI 1361. 8 

Athens, National Museum, 192. Powell, E.A., ‘When the Ancient Greeks Began to Write. Newly discovered inscriptions help explain how literacy spread’, Archaeology May/June 2017, 44-49, 48. See also, Strauss Clay, J., Malkin, I., and Tzifopoulos, Y.Z. (eds.), Panhellenes at Methone, Graphe in Late Geometric and Protoarchaic Methone, Macedonia (ca 700 BCE), Trends in Classics 44 (Berlin and Boston, 2017). 3  Oxford Ashmolean Museum, 1982.889, CVA Oxford 4, 24, fig. e, pl. 51.3; OJA 1 (1982) 365-367, figs. 1-2. 4  Lacco Ameno, Villa Arbusto, Meiggs, R. & Lewis, D., A Selection of Greek Historical Inscriptions to the end of the Fifth Century BC. (Oxford, 1988); Faraone, C., ‘Taking the ‘Nestor’s Cup Inscription’ seriously: erotic magic and conditional curses in the earliest inscribed hexameters,’ Classical Antiquity 15 (1996) 77-112. 5  Hurwit, Signatures, 71-72 with fig.32. 6  Hurwit, Signatures, 71-76; Boardman, EGVP, 82, fig. 162. 7  Rom, Museo Capitolini, Castellani 172, Wachter, R., Non-attic Greek vase inscriptions (Oxford, 2001) 29-30, no. INC 1; Gianni, G.B., ‘Aristonothos, il vaso’, Aristonothos 1 (2007) 5-15; Boardman, EGVP, 114, 140, fig. 282. 1  2 

31

Greek Art in Motion. Studies in honour of Sir John Boardman ​on the occasion of his 90th birthday

Triptolemos Painter’s jug in Hamburg named after the place of a victorious battle,21 and a certain lack of imagination: Phintias chose his colleague’s name, Euthymides, for the toast uttered by a hetaira on his hydria in Munich.22

Painter used the name Apollodoros for a young komast on a stemless cup in Moscow around 460/450.38 A Diphilos made a joint dedication on the Athenian Acropolis in 500/48039 and was known in the potters’ quarter too.40 He was a favourite of the Brygos Painter in 490/480.41 The Painter of Athens 12789 named a later Diphilos ‘kalos’ on white ground lekythoi about 46042 and the Beldam Painter inscribed the names Diphilos, Aristiphos, and …chos on funerary stelai on a white ground lekythos in Chicago around 450.43 Diphilos, son of Melanopos, identified by H.A. Shapiro as the Archon Eponymous of 442/441,44 was declared kalos by the Achilles Painter on 14 white ground lekythoi with domestic scenes from Eretria45 and made a proxenos of Alea in 425.46 The names of eponymous archons were rarely inscribed on vases with the exception of 4th century Panathenaic prize amphorae. Among the few examples are a beautiful younger Hipparchos (496/495),47 a youth named Euthippos (461/460) on a stamnos by Polygnotos,48 and Dromokleides (475/474) as father of Dromippos.49

Dedications Many dedicatory inscriptions are incised, even on objects made specifically for that purpose such as a plaque offered by an otherwise unknown Ninnion.23 Among the specific commissions or dedications by potters and painters are phialai from Eleusis and the Athenian Acropolis inscribed by the potter Sosimos,24 and a black-figure plaque by Skythes.25 Neandros signed a pyxis, which he also inscribed for Phaikides, who offered the pot to Artemis in her sanctuary in Brauron.26 Sosias, perhaps the potter known from several signatures,27 incised his name on a cup and a skyphos on the Athenian Acropolis.28 Phintias showed Sosias on a belly-amphora in Paris in the company of the otherwise unknown Demostratos, Chares, and Sotinos29 and a painter from the Leagros Group with the equally unknown Pyles, Chariades, Dikes, and Leukon.30 A different Pedieus’ beauty was praised by Skythes and other red-figure cup-painters around 500,31 and the Achilles Painter named a Klenias or Kleinias, son of Pedieus, kalos in 450.32 Kleinias’ qualities were also appreciated by the Alkimachos Painter.33

In the third quarter of the 5th century, a further Diphilos was a beau on a cup from the Athenian Agora50 and the Kraipale Painter wrote the name next to two athletes on the obverse and reverse of a pelike in the British Museum.51 Added Names (and Further Signatures)

A cup from the Artemision at Thasos assigned to Epiktetos was inscribed before firing with the legend ΑΠΟΛΛΟΔΩΡΟΣ hΟ ΔΙΙΦΙΛΟ ΑΝ[ƐΘΕΚΕΝ], both names are common.34 An Apollodoros, a contemporary of Epiktetos working from around 510 to 480, signed 3 cups as painter.35 The beauty of an Apollodoros was praised by an anonymous artist on a cup from Adria36 around 470, and perhaps by the Argos Painter on a stamnos in Oxford dated around 480.37 The Euaion

Vase-painters added names to figures from around 670/650 when the Polyphemus Painter wrote ‘MΕΝΕΛΑΣ’ next to one of five identically dressed bearded males with spears in procession on a stand once in Berlin.52 The name is written in the Doric dialect, the painter may have therefore been a resident foreigner. However, the inscription might represent a spoken word, the chant of a theatrical chorus, which used the Doric dialect in Attica.53 The painter of a Protoattic bowl from Aegina54 added the inscriptions AΡΕΠΥΙΑ, ΠΕΡΕΥΣ, and AΘΕΝΑΙΑ next to his

Hamburg, Museum für Kunst und Gewerbe, 1981.173, Gerleigner, G., ‘Tracing Letters on the Eurymedon Vase: On the Importance of Placement of Vase-Inscriptions’, Yatromanolakis, D. (ed.), Epigraphy of Art: Ancient Greek Vase-Inscriptions and Vase-Paintings (Oxford, 2016) 165-184 with figs. 1-15; K.Schauenburg, ‘Eὐρυμέδον εἶμι’ Athener Mittteilungen 90 (1975) 118; CAVI 3880. 22  Munich, Antikensammlungen, 2421, CAVI 5285. 23  Athens, National Museum, 11036, CAVI 231; Levente, I., and Metsopolou, C. (eds.), Hiera kai latreies tes Demetras ston archaio helleniko kosmo (Volos, 2010) 134. 24  Eleusis, Archaeological Museum, 458, CAVI 3412. Athens, National Museum, Acropolis Coll., 2.1078, CAVI 1472. 25  Athens, National Museum, Acropolis Coll., 1.2556, CAVI 1187. 26  Brauron, Museum, CAVI 2868; Para 70. 27  Cup, Berlin, Antikensammlung: F 2278, ARV2 21.1, 1620. Stand, Berlin, Antikensammlung: F 2315, CVA Berlin, AntikensammlungPergamonmuseum 1, 58-59, Beilage 6.2, pl. 36.7-8. 28  Athens, Acropolis Museum, 1.1401, 1.1628, Graef, B. & Langlotz, E., Die antiken Vasen von der Akropolis zu Athen, 1 (Berlin, 1925) pls. 77.1401, 83.1628a-c. 29  Paris, Louvre, G 42, ARV2 23.1, 1620. 30  London, British Museum, B 199, ABV 367.89. 31  E.g. a cup by Skythes, Berlin, Antikensammlung: 4855, ARV2 1605.3 32  Syracuse, Museo Archeologico Regionale, 21186, CAVI 7552, Shapiro, Patronymic, 109, 113-115; Robinson & Fluck, 127-129; LGPN II, 263, s.v. Kλεινιας. Probably the same as on the neck-amphora London, British Museum, 1867.0508.1052, CAVI 4563; ARV2 1590. 33  Naples, Museo Archeologico Nazionale, 81487, CAVI 5430; ARV2 1590. 34  Thasos, Archaeological Museum, CAVI 7665. 35  ARV2 1580. 36  Adria, Museo Archeologico Nazionale, 22202, CVA Adria 1, pl. 23.1. 37  Brenne, Indices, 34; ARV2 1565, 1698. Oxford, Ashmolean Museum, 21 

1911.625. 38  Moscow, Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, M 729, CVA 4, 48, pl. 42.2.4. 39  IG I³ 950; Keesling, ‘Patrons of Athenian votive monuments of the Archaic and Classical periods: Three Studies’, Hesperia 74 (2005), 395426. For the name, LGPN 132-133. 40  Brenne, Indices, 36. 41  London, British Museum, 1848.0619.7, ARV2 1574. 42  ARV2 1575. 43  Chicago, University of Chicago, D. & A. Smart Gallery, 1967.115.359, ARV2 1575; CAVI 3152. 44  Shapiro, Patronymic, 114. 45  Athens, National Museum, 1923, ARV2 1574. 46  Dittenberger, Inschriften von Olympia, no. 30; Robinson & Fluck, 98; Siewert, P, ‘Archaische Bronzeplatte eines unteritalischen Proxenos der Eleer’, Tyche 28 (2013) 153. 47  Mannack, T, ‘Hipparchos Kalos’, Yatromanolakis, D. (ed.), Epigraphy of Art: Ancient Greek Vase-Inscriptions and Vase-Paintings (Oxford, 2016) 43-52. 48  University, University of Mississippi, 1977.3.96. 49  Shapiro, Patronymic, 114. 50  Athens, Agora Museum, P 15436, ARV2 1575, CAVI 504. 51  London, British Museum, 1865,0103.24 (E 389), CAVI 4581. 52  Berlin, Antikensammlung A 42, CVA, Berlin, Antiquarium 1, 5-8, 2425, pls. 31.1-3, 32.1, 33.1; Boardman, EGVP, 104, figs. 207.1-2. 53  Ferrari, G., Menelas, JHS 107 (1987) 180–182; Ferrari, G, Alcman and the cosmos of Sparta (Chicago, 2008). 54  Berlin, Antikensammlung, F 1682, CVA Berlin, Antiquarium 1, 5-8, 36-39, pls. 46.1-2, 47.1-2.

32

Thomas Mannack – The Good, the Bad, and the Misleading: A Network of Names on (Mainly) Athenian Vases

figures. Around the same time, a vase-painter in Corinth named the participants in the Judgement of Paris on a splendid Protocorinthian olpe excavated in Veii AΘΑΝΑΙΑ and AΦΡΟΔ[… . He did not use the Corinthian, but a West Greek script.55 Three explanations have been offered: the vase is not Corinthian, given clay, style, and technique are typical of Corinthian products, this appears unlikely; that the buyer specified a ‘legible’ script, equally unlikely, since the Etruscans did not object to the Corinthian script on other vases; or that the painter of the olpe was a foreigner working in Corinth. Signatures on Athenian vases show that non-Greeks or their descendants were active in the potters’ quarter. Among these putative foreigners are two Lydoi, the famous vase-painter Lydos who signed a fragmentary dinos from the Athenian Acropolis as potter and painter, ‘[HΟ ΛΥΔΟΣ ΕΠΟΙΕ]ΣΕΝ : HΟ ΛΥΔΟΣ Ε[Γ]ΡΑΦΣΕΝ’, ‘the Lydian made it, the Lydian painted it’,56 and an amphora in Paris ‘HΟ ΛΥΔΟΣ ΕΓΡ[ΑΦ]ΣΕΝ’, ‘the Lydian painted it’.57 The second Lydos signed as a slave: ‘ΛΥΔὸΣ ἔΓΡΑΦΣΕΝ ΟΛΟΣΟΝΜΥΔΕΑΣΣΕΥΓΕ[...]Ο.’, ‘Lydos has painted it, a slave from Myrina‘.58 That potters and painters could also be Athenian citizens is attested by well-known vases with signatures with patronymic. Tleson signed as the son of Nearchos,59 a potter who signed a kantharos,60 and aryballos,61 and several Little Master Cups.62 The red-figure potter Nikias incised his signature, ‘NΙΚΙΑΣ ΕΡΜΟΚΛΕΟΥΣ ΑΝΑΦΛΥΣΤΙΟΣ ΕΠΟΙΕΣΕΝ’ in the formal democratic way, citing his father’s name and the deme in which he was registered as a citizen.63

Little Master Band Cup signed ‘ΘΡΑΙΧΣ ΕΠΟΙΕΣΕΝ’,66 ‘Thrax made it’. The Kerameikos was also home to one or two artists signing their name as ‘Skythes’.67 It is not possible to discern whether these men with ethnic appellations were slaves, resident foreigners in Athens, or even Athenian citizens.68 Skythes occurs as the name of a slave on a late fifth century list of ship crews.69 Kriton, son of Skythes, dedicated a marble stele on the Athenian Acropolis signed by the sculptor Pollias70 in the late sixth century. All three may be connected with the potters’ world. Skythes signed four red-figure cups as painter. Kriton is the name of a potter inscribed on a reserved panel of a black-bodied olpe dated around 520 in Warsaw: ‘ΚΡΙΤΟΝ ΕΠΟΙΕΣΕΝ : ΛΕΠΟΣΥΣ’.71 The sculptor of the stele, Pollias, was the father of Euthymides, who signed a psykter in Turin.72 ‘Ευθυμιδες εγραφσενhο Πολ[λ]ιο’, and an amphora in Munich ‘ΕΥΘΥΜΙΔΕΣ ΕΓΡΑΦΣΕΝ hΟ ΠΟΛ[Λ]ΙΟ’ and ‘ΕΥΘΥΜΙΔΕΣ: hΟ ΠΟΛ[Λ]ΙΟ’.73 Pollias may have commissioned his son to make a white ground plaque showing the goddess Athena, which he dedicated on the Athenian Acropolis.74 Skythes’ name does not only appear as part of his signature, but was also borrowed by his contemporaries to name figures. A black-figure kyathos in Cambridge assigned to the Philon Painter75 is decorated with three pairs of fighting warriors. The fourth is named ΣΜΙΚΥΘΟΣ, the sixth ΣΚΥΘΕΣ. If we judge people by the company they keep, Smikythos should be connected with the Athenian potters’ quarter. Phintias was aware of him, since he named four males in a music lesson on his hydria in Munich76 [Δ]ΕΜΕΤΡΙΟΣ, ΕΥΤΥΜΙΔΕΣ, ΤΛΕΜΠ̣ΟΛΕΜΟΣ, and ΣΜΙΚΥΘΟΣ. Demetrios cannot be connected with any known individual in Athens. Euthymides should be Phintias’ fellow red-figure Pioneer. Tlempolemos, a rare name, is that of a potter of three signed Little Master cups,77 who was also deemed kalos by the painter of a red-figure cup in Orvieto.78 Two inscriptions from the Athenian Acropolis mention Smikythos. A marble capital dedicated in the early 5th century is inscribed: ‘B ΘΕO[ΔΟ] ΡΟΣ : AΝ[EΘΕΚΕΝ : ὈΝ]Ε̣ΣίΜΟ : h[ΥΙOΣ]. A ὈΝEΣΙΜΟΣ : Μ’ AΝEΘΕΚΕΝ : AΠΑΡΧὲΝ ΤAΘΕΝΑίΑΙ : HΟ ΣΜΙΚYΘΟ HΥΙOΣ,79 a dedication by Theodoros, the son of Onesimos, and Onesimos, the son of Smikythos. A slightly later marble louterion bears the inscription [ὈΝEΣΙ]ΜΟΣ : A[ΝEΘΕΚ]ΕΝ : AΠΑ[ΡΧEΝ :] O ΣΜΙΚ[YΘΟ : ΤAΘΕ]ΝΑI[ΑΙ].80 An Onesimos signed a red-figure

Double rays above the feet of some of Lydos’ amphorae64 are seen as an ‘eastern’ element, which was also used by the Amasis Painter, who regularly worked for the potter Amasis and may have been the same man. Sir John Boardman has shown that Amasis, his name is the Greek version of the Egyptian name Ahmose, probably hailed from Egypt, and may have been black, since Exekias named an Ethiopian soldier with club and pelta ‘Amasos’.65 A potter from Thrace had a Rome, Mus. Naz. Etrusco di Villa Giulia, 22679, CVA Roma, Museo Nazionale Etrusco di Villa Giulia 1, III.C.E.1, pls. 1-4; Mugione, E. and Benincasa, A. (eds.), L’Olpe Chigi, Storia di un agalma, Atti del Convegno Internazionale, Salerno, 3-4 giugno 2010 (Salerno, 2012). 56  Athens, National Museum, Acropolis Coll., 1.607, CAVI 975; ABV 107.1, 684. 57  Paris, Louvre, F 29, CAVI 6283; ABV 109.21, 685. 58  Kyathos, Rome, Villa Giulia, 84466, CAVI 7257; BAdd 400. 59  Toledo, Museum of Art, 58.70, Para 71.1bis; CAVI 7703; CVA Toledo, Toledo Museum of Art 1, 23-24, pls. 34.1-2, 35.1. 60  Athens, National Museum, 15155, ABV 82.1; CAVI 976; Boardman, J., The history of Greek vases: potters, painters and pictures (London, 2001) 55, fig. 65. 61  New York, Metropolitan Museum, 26.49, ABV 83.4, 682; Boardman, J., The history of Greek vases: potters, painters and pictures (London, 2001) 55, fig .66.1-2. 62  Ostermundigen, Blatter, Attic Script, no. 96; Jucker, H., ‘Herakles und Atlas auf einer Schale des Nearchos in Bern, Krug., A. (ed.), Festschrift für Frank Brommer (Mainz, 1977) 191-99, pls. 53-55. 63  London, British Museum, 1898.7-16.6, ARV2 13331; CAVI 4702; Boardman, J., Athenian Red Figure Vases, The Classical Period (London, 1989), fig. 319. 64  Lydos: London, British Museum: 1848.6-19.5, ABV 109.29; Boardman, ABFV, fig. 66. Basel, Antikenmuseum und Sammlung Ludwig, Kä 420, Para 65. Amasis Painter: Würzburg, Universität, Martin von Wagner Mus., L 282, ABV 151.22; Boardman, ABFV, fig. 88. Paris, Cabinet des Medailles, 222, ABV 152.25; Boardman, ABFV, fig. 85. 65  Boardman, J., ‘Amasis, the implications of his name’, Papers on the Amasis Painter and His World (Malibu, 1987) 141-152. The name occurs on the amphora Philadelphia, University of Pennsylvania, 3442, ABV 145.14; Boardman, J., ‘Amasis, the implications of his name’, Papers on the Amasis Painter and His World (Malibu, 1987) 150, fig. 7. 55 

Taranto, Museo Archeologico Nazionale, 6222, CAVI 7605; ABV 178. Red-figure cup painter, Villa Giulia, 20760, CAVI 7146; ARV2 83.14; Boardman, ARFVA, figs. 90.1-2. A black-figure plaque was perhaps decorated by a second artist of that name working at the same time, Athens, National Museum, Acropolis Coll., 1.2556, ABV 352; CAVI 1187. 68  Boardman, ABFV, 12. 69  IG I³ 1032 line 127. 70  IG I³ 658. 71  Warsaw, National Museum, once Goluchow, Czartorski, 98, CVA Goluchow, Musee Czartoryski, 17, pl. 16.2; ABV 446.2; CAVI 7988. 72  Turin, Museo di Antichita, 4123, ARV2 28.11, 1620; CAVI 7810. 73  Munich, Antikensammlungen, 8731, ARV2 26.1, 1620; CAVI 5258. 74  Athens, National Museum, Acropolis Coll., 1.2590 and Oxford, Ashmolean Museum 1927.4602, ARV2 1598; Boardman, J., JHS 76 (1956) pls. 1.2, 2.1; Boardman, J., ARFVA, fig. 52; CAVI 1200. 75  Cambridge, Fitzwilliam Museum, GR 22.1904, ABV 516.1; CAVI 3031. 76  Munich, Antikensammlungen, 2421, ARV2 23.7, 1620; CAVI 5285; FR pl. 71. 77  Berlin, Antikensammlung, 3152, ABV 171.13, 178.2. Berlin, Antikensammlung, F 1763, ABV 178.1. Basel, Borowski, Para 74.3; ARV2 1611. 78  Orvieto, Museo Civico, ARV2 1699; CAVI 5801; Brenne, Indices, 45, 53. 79  IG I³ 699. 80  IG I³ 931; Keesling, ‘Patrons of Athenian votive monuments of the Archaic and Classical periods: Three Studies’, Hesperia 74 (2005) 39566  67 

33

Greek Art in Motion. Studies in honour of Sir John Boardman ​on the occasion of his 90th birthday

cup in the Louvre.81 Theodoros was also known to vasepainters; the Epeleios Painter wrote ‘ΘΕΟΔΟΡΟΣ ΚΑΛΟΣ’ on two of his cups.82

of a black-figure Nikosthenic pyxis incised the inscription ‘Nikosthenes kalos’95 on a platform with musicians, and an unnamed painter wrote ‘hο Μυς καλ̣ος δοκει, ναι’ and nonsense inscriptions in the spaces between blacksmiths working at a forge.96 Mys, who probably came from Mysia, signed a lekythos in Athens as painter97 Smikros portrayed himself in a symposium on a stamnos in Brussels98 and was also shown at a feast by his colleague Euphronios.99 A fellow Pioneer inscribed ‘Σμικρος καλος’ next to two naked women washing at a laver on a hydria in Berlin.100 All three vases bear numerous further inscriptions. As a Pioneer, Smikros was once thought to have been worthy of appearing in an aristocratic context, while the presence of a potter at a symposium has more recently been regarded as a joke. However, the name was common. Men named Smikros made dedications on the Athenian Acropolis101 and the name occurs on at least two annual lists of fallen warriors.102 It is therefore probable that Smikros and his colleagues thought of the painter when inscribing the name, while drinking aristocrats would probably identify the name with their aristocratic acquaintances. Smikros is not the only named person on the Brussels stamnos, the painter also added the names of Antias and Eualkides as kaloi, and Euelthon, Euarchos, Automenes, and Pheidiades without the epithet kalos. Euarchos may be a fellow potter, his ‘signature’ Ευαρχο[ς επ]οιεσεν survives on a black-figure cup in Florence.103 An Euarchos made a dedication on the Acropolis around 480/470,104 and the Ambrosios Painter used the name for a komast around 500 on a cup in Munich.

Occasionally, names disappear. A chous in Oxford showing a satyr attacking a sleeping maenad by the Codrus Painter83 was recently examined by Nuala Marshall, a CAAH undergraduate, who noted the complete absence of two well attested inscriptions. When Percy Gardner published the vase in 1905, he stated: ‘above [the nymph] is the inscription TPAΓOIDIA’ omitting any mention of further names, as did G. Nicole’s drawing published in 1908.84 Beazley also noted the name Tragoidia in 1918.85 In 1923, he observed: ‘the maenad is named TPAΓOIDIA, the silen, in almost imperceptible letters, KIΣΣΟΣ’.86 Later publications followed Beazley.87 Kissos occurs twice as a satyr and once as an athlete on cups assigned to the Eretria Painter.88 A chous in Florence and Leipzig portrays Kissos in the company of the maenad Tragoidia.89 The lack of even a shadow of the inscriptions on the Oxford chous suggests strongly that the names were added after the vase was fired. Beautiful Men and Beautiful Banausoi Vase-painters named men and – far less frequently – women as beautiful from about 550 when members of Group E praised Stesias, otherwise completely unknown, as kalos.90 W. Klein was the first to suggest that these names are homoerotic praise of fashionable young aristocrats, who had caught the attention of older eupatrids and that vase-painters named the beau of the moment to attract buyers.91 However, a fair number of these beautiful boys appear to be potters and vasepainters.92 The Ambrosios Painter praised the beauty Tleson.93 The Taleides Painter wrote ‘Aνδοκιδες κα[λ]oς δοκει Τιμα[γ] oρα’ on a black-figure hydria in the Louvre,94 the painter

Megakles the Potter or Artists Lost and Found The same may be true of Megakles, a name with impeccable aristocratic credentials and given to sons of the clan of the Alkmaionidae. Vase scholars distinguish two men of that name, Megakles, the son of Hippokritos and an unknown Megakles deemed beautiful on a bell-krater attributed to the Orestes Painter105 and a stamnos assigned to the Kleophon Painter106 around 440. Megakles, the son of Hippokritos, is thought to be named kalos on a hydria signed by Phintias107 and on a white ground plaque from the Athenian Acropolis.108

426. 81  Paris, Louvre, G 105, ARV2 324.60, 1645, 1579, 1595. 82  Munich, Antikensammlungen, 2619A, ARV2 146.2, 1610, 1575.2, 1576.1, 1587.1, 1628. Bryn Mawr (PA), Bryn Mawr College, P 96, ARV2 147.18, 1610; Brenne, Indices, 44, 53. 83  Oxford, Ashmolean Museum, G 284 (V 534), ARV2 1258.1. 84  Gardner, P., ‘Vases added to the Ashmolean Museum’, JHS 25 (1905) 69-70, no. 534. Nicole, G., Meidias et le style fleuri (Geneva, 1908) 115. 85  Beazley, J.D., Attic Red-Figured Vases in American Museums (Cambridge, 1918) 179-180. 86  Beazley, J.D., CVA Oxford 1, 34, pls. 43.2, 39.3-4. 87  Eretria-Maler, 192, fig. 61B, pl. 195a, no. 211; CAVI 5918; Avramidou, A., The Codrus Painter, Iconography and reception of Athenian vases in the age of Pericles (Madison, 2011) 17. 88  Berlin, Antikensammlung, F 2532, Warsaw, National Museum, 142458, Rome, Museo Nazionale Etrusco di Villa Giulia, 3581, EretriaMaler, 25, fig. 4b, g right, 80, fig. 22a, 158, fig.51, pls. 26-27.31, 78, fig.21c, pls.57, 58e-f, no. 76, 25, fig. 4e (right), 32, fig. 6b, 45, fig. 11a, pl. 17, no. 22. 89  Florence, Museo Archeologico Etrusco, 22 B 324 and Leipzig, Antikenmuseum d. Universität Leipzig, T727, Eretria-Maler, pl. 142c, no. 230; CVA Oxford 1, 34; CVA Firenze, Regio Museo Archeologico 1, III.I.23, III.I.24, pl. 22.324; CAVI 3690. 90  E.g. black-figure amphora signed by Exekias as potter, Toledo, Museum of Art, 1980.1022, CVA Toledo, Toledo Museum of Art 2, 1011, pls. 81.1-2, 82.1-2, 83.1-2; CAVI 7712; Brenne, Indices, 44. 91  Klein, W., Die griechischen Vasen mit Lieblingsinschriften (Leipzig, 1890). 92  Scheibler, I., Der Neue Pauly, s.v. Kalos-Inschriften. 93  Brussels, Musees Royaux, R 349, ARV2 174.24; CAVI 2947; Brenne, Indices, 45. 94  Paris, Louvre, F 38, CAVI 6286; ABV 174.7, 664; CVA Paris, Louvre 6, III.HE.42, III.HE.43, pl. 62.1-4; BAPD 301126; Brenne, Indices, 34.

Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum, IV 1870, ABV 671; CAVI 7899; Brenne, Indices, 41. 96  London, BM, 1846.6-29.45, CAVI 4338; Chatzidimitriou, pl. 22.X2. 97  Athens, National Museum, 1626, ARV2 663; Kaltsas, N. (ed.), AthensSparta (New York, 2006) 235, no. 122; BAPD 207770; Brenne, Indices, 41. 98  Brussels, Musées Royaux, A 717, ARV2 20.1, 1619; CVA Brussels 2, III.I.C.6-III.I.C.7, pls. 12.1a-d, 13.1a.1b.1c; BAPD 200102. 99  Calyx-krater, Munich, Antikensammlungen, 9300+, ARV2 1619.3bis, 1705, 1699; CAVI 5363; BAPD 275007. 100  Berlin, Antikensammlung, 1966.20, Para 503; CAVI 2498; CVA Berlin, 9, 18-20, figs.2, 3, Beilage 1.3, pls. 4.1-5, 56.3; Brenne, Indices, 44. 101  IG I³ 646, a tanner. IG I³ 718. 102  IG I³ 1147; IG I³ 1144. 103  Florence, Museo Archeologico Etrusco, Prospettiva Rivista dell’ arti antica e moderna (Siena) 3 (1975) 45-47, figs. 1-7; BAPD 30407. 104  IG I³ 825. 105  Paris, Musee du Louvre, A 258, ARV2 1113.10, 1559; CAVI 6248; Davies, J.K., Athenian Propertied Families 600-300 B.C. (Oxford, 1971) 381, Megakles VI. 106  St. Petersburg, Hermitage, 2353; ARV2 1147.7, 1684, 1590, 1599; CAVI 7384. 107  London, BM, E 159; ARV2 24.9, 1620; CAVI 4512. 108  Athens, National Museum, Acropolis Coll., 2.1037, ARV2 1598.5; CAVI 1463; Boardman, J., ‘Some Attic Fragments: Pot, Plaque, and Dithyramb’, JHS 76 (1956) 20-22; Boardman, J., ‘Painted Votive Plaques 95 

34

Thomas Mannack – The Good, the Bad, and the Misleading: A Network of Names on (Mainly) Athenian Vases

The plaque was originally inscribed ‘Μεγα[κ]λ[ε]ς καλος’, the inscription was later erased and repainted with ‘Γλαυ[κ]υτ[ε] ς καλος’ and Boardman proposed that the name was erased after the ostracism of Megakles in 486.109 Megakles is also deemed ‘kalos’ on a fragmentary cup from the Kerameikos which bears the inscription Μεγ[ακλες] καλο̣[ς] in added red paint; an incised graffito, ‘Mεγακ̣[λες] hιπ[π]οκρ[α]τος is proof that the fragment was used in the ostracism of the most famous Megakles.110 Megakles’ father had also come to the attention of Athenian painters, since he was regarded as the ‘most beautiful’ on a black-figure Little Master band cup in London, which bears the ‘signature’ ‘Γλαυκυτες εποιεσεν’ under one handle, and the inscription ‘Hιπ[π]οκριτος καλ[λ] ιστος’ under the other.111 Glaukytes, in turn, was thought to be kalos by the painter of a red-figure neck-amphora in Paris.112

Charisios, of a fourth name only ...]kles survives. A Charinos signed seven oinochoes and figure vases around the time of the dedication.121 The situation is complicated by the presence of a third Megakles in Athens. He dedicated a marble pillar on the Acropolis around 500/480. An inscription identifies him as Megakles, son of Euryptolemos, ‘[Μεγα]κλε[ς ἀνέθεκεν –] [hο Ε]ὐ̣ρυπ[τολέμο – ] ‘.122 Like Hippokritos, Eurytptolemos was known in the potters’ quarter and named kalos on three cups attributed to Apollodoros123 and a cup assigned to Makron.124 It is therefore not entirely certain, which Megakles is deemed beautiful or good by Athenian vase-painters. It is peculiar that on the plaque from the Athenian Acropolis125 the name of Megakles was not replaced with that of another aristocrat, but with the rather unusual name Glaukytes. In the potters’ world Glaukytes is only known as the maker of 3 signed Little Master cups,126 the Munich cup is curiously also signed for the poietes Archikles. If the plaque has no political meaning, Megakles on the Acropolis plaque may have been a potter too and the inscription was rewritten in the workshop when its ownership changed.127 A pyxis in Brussels attributed to the Pistoxenos Painter dated around 460 confirms that the aristocratic name Megakles was used by banausoi. An orthographically questionable signature on the body reads Μεκακλες εποιεσεν.128

Like most of the popular beaus, Megakles also lends his name to figures in vase paintings, which very often have impeccable aristocratic credentials. On a black-figure white ground lekythos in Toronto,113 Megakles is a young jumper practicing in the company of other youths named Spintharos, Dion, Pythis, and Olympiodoros. Most of these are unknown. Spintharos occurs only on this lekythos. Pythis is a beau on a black-figure hydria assigned to the Leagros Group dated around 510/500,114 and the name of a sculptor who carved a marble column on the Acropolis, Πῦθις ἐποίεσεν. Ἐπιτέλες ἀνέθεκεν : ἀπαρχὲν Ἀθεναίαι, at the same time.115 Olympiodoros is named kalos on a hydria in the Vatican, which also praises Leagros,116 on a red-figure loutrophoros dedicated on the Athenian Acropolis assigned to a Pioneer,117 and with Dorotheos and Kephisophon on a cup attributed to the Proto Panaitian Group.118 The painter of the cup added numerous names to his figures: Kleiboulos, Ambrosios, Antias, Batrachos, Phormos, Kleisophos, Eratosthenes, Epichares, Kleon, Timon, Euagoras, Phoinix, Antimachos, Euenor, and Asopokles. An Epichares is listed on an inscription dedicated on the Athenian Acropolis dated around 500/480119 as son of the donor, whose name is lost and may have been the father of an Alkimachos named on several vases assigned to the Achilles Painter.120 His siblings are Opholonides, Charinos, and

In 1981, Sir John Boardman and U. Gehrig removed Epiktetos II, until then the name of the Kleophrades Painter, from the list of known artists when they recognized that the signatures Επικτετος εγραφσεν on the neck on both sides of a pelike in Berlin are modern.129 However, the Kleophrades Painter was not denied a proper name for long. In 1997, D. Williams recognized that fragments of a red-figure skyphos in Leipzig, which Beazley thought to have perhaps been painted by the Kleophrades Painter, join unattributed fragments in Malibu.130 The obverse shows Achilles brought to Chiron, the reverse a scene from the Trojan War with Agamemnon, Briseis, and Athena. There are several inscriptions naming the figures, but also an incomplete dipinto naming Megakles, Μεγα[…] on the reverse. Beazley suggested a restoration as ‘Megakles

and an Early Inscription from Aegina’, BSA 49 (1954) 201, no. 8. 109  CAVI 1463; Boardman, J., ‘Painted Votive Plaques and an Early Inscription from Aegina’, BSA 49 (1954) 201, no. 8; Bothmer, D. v., Euphronios, der Maler (Berlin, 1991) 142. 110  CAVI 1763; Willemsen, F., ‘Verzeichnis der Karameikos-Ostraka’, AM 106 (1991) 137-145, pls. 26,1, 27,1-3, 28; Mann, C., Haake, M, Hoff, R. von den (eds.), Rollenbilder in der athenischen Demokratie, Medien, Gruppen, Räume im politischen und sozialen System, Beiträge zu einem interdisziplinaren Kolloquium in Freiburg i. Br., 24.-25. November 2006 (Wiesbaden, 2009) 153-155, figs. 1-4. 111  London, British Museum, 1857.8-5.1, CAVI 4301; ABV 163.1, 160.2, 667.1. 112  Paris, Musee du Louvre, CP 11187, CAVI 6612. 113  Toronto, Royal Ontario Museum, 963.59, CAVI 7731; ARV2 1699; CVA Toronto, Royal Ontario Museum, 22, pl. 27.15-18. 114  Chicago, Univ. of Chicago, D.& A. Smart Gallery, 1889.15, ABV 673; CAVI 3139. 115  IG I3 680. 116  Vatican City, Museo Gregoriano Etrusco Vaticano, 416, ABV 365.65, 695, 669.5, 671. 117  Athens, National Museum, Acropolis Coll., 2.636, Pala, E., Acropoli di Atene, Un microcosmo della produzione e distribuzione della ceramica attica (Rome, 2012) 43, fig. 10; ARV2 1604. 118  Paris, Cabinet des Medailles, 523, ARV2 316.4, 1575, 1589, 1604; CAVI 6156. 119  IG I³ 696. 120  Cf. e.g. Boston, Museum of Fine Arts, 13.202, ARV2 1002.11, 1561;

CAVI 2786. 121  ARV2 1531; Kyle, D.G., Athletics in Ancient Athens (Leiden, 1993) A 24; Richter, G.M.A., Red-Figured Athenian Vases in the Metropolitan Museum of Art (New York, 1936) 73 with note 10. 122  IG I³ 707. 123  Paris, Musée du Louvre, G 140, ARV2 120.1, 1580; CAVI 6481. 124  New York, Metropolitan Museum, 1979.11.8, Kunisch, N., Makron (Mainz, 1997) 67, fig. 30, pl. 79.236. 125  Athens, National Museum, Acropolis Coll., 2.1037, see n. 58. 126  London, British Museum, 1857.8-5.1, Munich, Antikensammlungen, 2243, Berlin, Antikensammlung, F 1761, ABV 163.1-2, 164.3, 667. 127  Bothmer, D.v., Euphronios der Maler. Katalog zur Ausstellung in der Sonderausstellungshalle der Staatlichen Museen Preußischer Kulturbesitz Berlin - Dahlem 20.3. - 26.5. 1991 (Berlin, 1991) 142. 128  Brussels, Bibliothèque Royale 9, ARV2 863.31, 1555; CAVI 2882. 129  Boardman, J. and Gehrig, U., ‘Epiktetos II, R.I.P.’, Anz (1981) 329-32, figs. 1-3. Pelike, Berlin, Antikensammlung, F 2170, ARV2 185.28, 1632; CAVI 2288; CVA Berlin, Antikensammlung 15- 17, figs. 1-3, Beilage 1.1, pls. 1-2. 130  Williams, D., Oakley, J.H. et al., Athenian Potters and Painters: The Conference Proceedings (Oxford, 1997) 197-199, figs. 2-4. Leipzig, Antikenmuseum der Universität Leipzig, T 3840a-c; ARV2 193, 1598.4; Malibu, J. Paul Getty Museum, 86.AE.270.1-3; CAVI 4183; LIMC Supplementum I, pl. 7 Achilleus Add 6.

35

Greek Art in Motion. Studies in honour of Sir John Boardman ​on the occasion of his 90th birthday

kalos’. Since the Kleophrades Painter did not have any favourites, Williams proposed that the name could be part of a painter’s signature. There are admittedly a number of Greek names beginning with ‘Mega’,131 but only two of these occur on Greek vases. The painter of a band cup from the Athenian Acropolis named a giant ‘Megarides’132 and a painter in the Group of Polygnotos wrote ‘Megareus’ next to a warrior in an amazonomachy on a red-figure dinos in London.133 It is therefore statistically likely that the Kleophrades Painter wrote ‘Megakles’.

the figures’ names, ‘the first inscription is nonsense, but both pretend to be the squires’ names’.145 It appears that vase-painters used signatures and names for a variety of reasons, often as an additional and erudite layer of decoration, and that their attitude to names could be lighthearted and insincere to downright dishonest. Three vasepainters claimed to be called Polygnotos to appropriate the fame of the far more eminent wall and panel painter. Modern forgery added a second Epiktetos, and perhaps names such as Kissos and Tragoidia in order to enhance the value of vases.

The Reliability of Signatures or What is in a Name?

Signatures appeared around 700 and the names of potters and painters adorned Little Master cups as decorations in their own right, and were part of numerous other inscriptions on prestigious pots such as Exekias’ amphora in the Vatican with Ajax and Achilles playing, probably added in the hope of attracting overseas buyers. When searching for names, the painter’s mind often did not stray far from his immediate surroundings: Euphronios used Euthymides as the love interest of a hetaira; artisans donated their works to the gods; potters and painters represented themselves and others in aristocratic symposia; elevated each other to noble beaus, and Exekias used his colleague’s name and even entire signature to name African archers.

There was apparently no protection of names in ancient Athens. Best known is the example of Polygnotos. The name was uncommon in Athens134 and does not seem to occur on the preserved annual lists of the fallen; a son of a Polygnotos made a marble dedication on the Athenian Acropolis in the early 5th century.135 However, when Polygnotos of Thasos became famous in the Classical Period, three Athenian vasepainters signed with that name, Polygnotos,136 the Nausicaa Painter,137 and the Lewis Painter.138 Unknown painters have been accused of falsely claiming that the great Exekias shaped their five surviving Little Master cups with painted signatures.139 The handwriting on these cups is not that of Exekias,140 but since painters frequently signed for potters the case will probably remain unsolved.

Bibliography Immerwahr, H. 1990. Attic Script. Oxford. Boardman, J. 1998. Early Greek Vase Painting, 11th-6th Centuries BC. London. Brenne, S. 2000. ‘Indices zu Kalos-Namen’, Tyche 15: 31-53. Lezzi-Hafter, A. 1998. Der Eretria-Maler, Werke und Weggefährten. Mainz. Hurwit, J.M. 2015. Artists and Signatures in Ancient Greece. Cambridge. Klein, W. 1898. Die griechischen Vasen mit Lieblingsinschriften. Leipzig. Shapiro, H.A. 1987. ‘Kalos-Inscriptions with Patronymic’, ZPE 68: 107-118. Wernicke, K. 1890. Die griechischen Vasen mit Lieblingsnamen. Eine archäologische Studie. Leipzig.

Exekias did not take signatures too seriously. He was not content with using his colleagues’ name, Amasis, to name figures, but even purloined his entire signature to name two Ethiopian squires Α̣ ΟΙΗΣN and AMAΣOΣ on a neck-amphora now in the British Museum.141 The Apparent signature has led to some confusion. Reinach doubted that the signature is that of Amasis.142 H.B. Walters assigned the vase to Amasis, but also doubted the inscription.143 Beazley attributed the neck-amphora firmly to Exekias.144 However, the inscriptions are intended as Amasis epoiesen, but clearly positioned as

CAVI 4183. Athens, National Museum, Acropolis Coll., 1.1632, CAVI 1077; Graef, B. & Langlotz, E., Die antiken Vasen von der Akropolis zu Athen, vol.1 (Berlin, 1925) pl. 84. 133  London, British Museum; 1899.7-21.5, ARV2 1052.29; CAVI 4706; Matheson, S.B., Polygnotos and Vase Painting in Classical Athens (Madison, 1995) 165-168, pls. 143a-d. 134  LGPN II, 371, s.v. Πολυγνωτος. 135  IG I3 725. 136  Brussels, Musees Royaux A 134, ARV2 1027.1. 137  London, British Museum, 1846.0128.1, ARV2 1107.7. 138  University, University of Mississippi, University Museums, 1977.3.104, ARV2 972, 974.26, 1676. 139  See Hurwit, Signatures, 82. Lip Cup, Athens, National Museum, 1104, CVA Athens, Musee National 3, 38-39, Beilage 11.4, pl. 30.1-4; CAVI 741. Lip Cup, once Basel, Market, Münzen und Medaillen A.G., Para 61; CAVI 2106. 140  Attic Script, nos. 146-150. 141  London, British Museum, 1849.0518.10, ABV 144.8, 686; CAVI 4256; CVA London, British Museum 4, IIIHe.4, pl. 49.1a-c; Eschbach, N. and Schmidt, S. (eds.), Töpfer, Maler, Werkstatt. Zuschreibungen in der griechischen Vasenmalerei und die Organisation antiker Keramikproduktion (Munich, 2016) 88, figs. 1a-b; Attic Script, 33, no. 134, 35. 142  Reinach, S., Repetoire des Vases Peints, Grecs et Etrusques (Paris, 1922) II, 105. 143  CVA London, British Museum 4, IIIHe.4. 144  ABV 144.8, 686. 131  132 

145 

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CAVI 4256.

Studying Gems: Collectors and Scholars Claudia Wagner Gems were not John’s first love of the objects available to study in Greece. In his youth it looked as if bigger objects would have captured his heart: in a photo taken in his early days in Greece we see him getting close to one of the lions in Delos (Figure 1). The ability to get close to the objects you study is probably what fascinated John most about the gems: objects artistically even more intricate, iconographically challenging, and full of intrinsic information about their makers and users than most sculpture could offer the archaeologist. No wonder that his research interest in the class of objects has been long and varied indeed. Studying gems for a long time means that John has looked closely not just at the objects themselves but at a variety of collectors who have amassed them. Collectors come from wide range of social backgrounds, they span from the royal and aristocratic, to the scholarly and academic, and the accidental collector. John has produced groundbreaking studies of Greek gems of all periods, from the Island Gems to the masterly Greek Gems and Fingerrings,1 and soon his interests would cover research into other types, such as Phoenician and Greco-Persian gems.2 Public collections were keen (more or less) to have their gems studied, photographed, and in these more relaxed times John was allowed to make impressions: in plasticine and silicone. Both types of moulds could then be cast in plaster or latex (supported by strips of toilet paper). There is an art to taking an impression, and some of the materials we still use go back to John’s early days of gem study. The tin of Johnson’s baby powder from the 1960s is still almost half full. The easiest method of making an impression is with plasticine: the same brand used by the makers of the ‘Wallace and Gromit’ films and ‘Shaun the Sheep’ is also our favourite. Formed into a ball it is first pressed into a round flat shape, about half a centimetre in height. John used to do this on a small slab of marble, but I have found that silicon baking paper on a smooth surface works just as well and is more portable. Sheets of silicon paper also prevent the finished impressions from sticking to each other when stacked. A very light dusting of the plasticine prevents the intaglio from sticking to the fine details of the engraving. Make sure you are not using the side you have squeezed with your fingers or you will find your fingerprints superimposed on the image. Huffing on the cold stone is also one of the methods to make sure the gem will come away from the plasticine cleanly.3 The benefits of the moisture on the intaglio is probably what Ovid,4 the poet, refers to in the love poem in which the lover dreams he could be his beloved’s seal, touched by her lips in preparation to the sealing. Ovid possibly imagines the beloved not just huffing but licking the intaglio on her ring.

Figure 1. Sir John on Delos. The impression shows a piece of ancient art as intended by the artist without the need for mediation by another artist, as in a drawing. It is often easier to compare style and iconography from impressions rather than the original – that is the reason why we still make and value impressions today. John’s research soon put him on the map as the British expert in the field and private collectors and dealers asked for his advice and invited him to study their gems. One of his first close involvements with collectors was with the Ionides family in London, who were about sell off their gems.5 He was later also involved at the sale of the Wellington collection and the Harari gems.6 The Pappalardo collection would prove to be a special case: after John published the Swiss collection in 1970 the collector decided to sell off his first collection of gems, only to continue his collecting.7 His son asked John to catalogue the sizeable new collection - publishing the encore was my first collaboration with John. It comes as no surprise that the young John was recruited by Antony Blunt, not as a fellow spy, but when it came to assigning the task of tackling

Boardman1963; Boardman 1970/2001. Boardman 2003; Boardman, J. 1970/2001. 3  For the practise used in Antiquity see also Juvenal sat.1.67; Ovid, trist. 5.5. 4  Ovid Amores, 2.15 1  2 

Boardman 1968b. Wellington: Boardman 1977; Harari: Boardman 1976. 7  Boardman 1975; Wagner et alli 2003; Wagner et alli 2009. 5  6 

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Greek Art in Motion. Studies in honour of Sir John Boardman ​on the occasion of his 90th birthday

the Royal collection of gems.8 On this project he collaborated with Kirsten Ashengreen Piacenti. He has inspired his students and colleagues, from Martin Henig, who has become the undisputed expert on gems from Roman Britain, to Dimitris Plantzos, who tackled the Hellenistic gems, and Gertrud Seidmann, who became an expert on neo-classical gems and in particular the great British engravers, Nathanial Marchant and Edward Burch. The finest gems are not only evidence of the tastes and collecting habits of one person but often have a collection history going back through other famous collectors. Gems and their devices appear in literary sources, they are listed, in inventories, as inheritance or even pawned. Their small size makes them ideal to be taken on journeys. But where did it all start?

Figure 2. Plaster impression by John Beazley: A youth restrains a horse, Inscribed ‘Epimenes made [me]’. Original: chalcedony scaraboid from the Nile Delta (Naucratis?), ca. 500 B.C. (MfA, Boston 27.677. Beazley Archive, Oxford University. Photo: C. Wagner).

Probably the earliest evidence of collecting in Greece comes from Bronze age burials: such as the beehive tomb in Vafio five miles south of  Sparta. It contained 41 gems and two rings. The styles represented date the items to at least half a century of the engraver’s art (from around 1500-1450 BC (LH II)). Several are distinctly Minoan in style and must have been imported from Crete, while the majority probably comes from local mainland workshops.9 Was the person interred in the Vafio tomb a collector of gems? Together with the amazing grave goods made from precious materials assembled here, in particular the fabulous gold cups, the engraved stones are probably more appropriately seen as treasure, not specifically collected for the beauty of their artistry or their varied iconography, but for their value as luxury goods.10 And, of course, in all periods some collectors of gems were primarily interested in the value of the items. Signatures of engravers on the gems give evidence of the esteem in which these masters held their own art, which surely must reflect the interest of their customers. Signatures, however, were not common and the quality of many of the unsigned pieces is equal and surpassing that of the signed ones. The engraver Epimenes signs his name on a scaraboid found in the Nile Delta (Figure 2).11 The name is in mirror image: when used as seal it appears the right way on the sealing. Epimenes has not signed all his gems: his style is distinctive and we can with great certainty attribute other gems to him. Gem engravers continue to sign their works, as the most significant engraver of the Classical period: Dexamenos. He signs his name on four gems, depicting very varied subjects. All of his gems are unrivalled in technique and accomplishment (Figure 3). On a light blue chalcedony he proudly adds his place of origin, the island of Chios, to his signature. The device depicted on the scaraboid is a flying heron. The composition of the bird and the inscription are composed perfectly in the field. The delicate patterns of the differently textured feathers of the wings and the body are rendered with great mastery.

Figure 3. Electrotype by Nevil Story Maskelyne. A flying heron. Signed  Dexamenos epoie Chios. Original: blue chalcedony scaraboid, from Kerch (Crimea). c. 450–430 BC (St Petersburg, Hermitage Museum inv. Ju O. 24. Beazley Archive, Oxford University. Photo: C. Wagner). How much engravers were respected for producing their works of highly individual art in the Hellenistic period becomes apparent when we see their names transmitted in literature and their art praised in poems.12 Pyrgoteles is named as gem-cutter favoured by Alexander the Great. Royal patronage of engravers at Hellenistic courts is continuing throughout the period. Signatures are more common at the beginning of the period and special commissions from artists. Nikandros, for example, signs an intaglio with a portrait of Berenike II, a garnet.13 The poet Posidippos14 was a contemporary: her name, that of her father Ptolemy II, and Arsinoe II feature in is writing. In his over 100 epigrams a series on stones, the Lithika, 15 poems have

Aschengreen Piacenti et alli 2008. Zwierlein-Diehl 2007: 25 and pl. 38. 10  Zwierlein-Diehl 2007: 25. 11  Boston, Museum of Fine Arts inv. 27.677; height 17 mm. Beazley (ed. Boardman.) 2003: no. 28. Boardman 1968b: no. 246.

Zwierlein-Diehl 2007: 1-2. Baltimore, Walters Art Gallery inv. 42.1339, Plantzos 1999: 30. Garnet, height 20 mm, convex face. 14  In particular on the Lithika of Posidippos see most recently Christensen 2012.

8 

12 

9 

13 

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Claudia Wagner – Studying Gems: Collectors and Scholars

Figure 4. Clay sealing, head of Helios (Beazley Archive, Oxford University. Photo: C. Wagner). as subject engraved gems. In the various epigrams Posidippos gives voice to his admiration for the engraver’s technique in carving the hard stone, the miniature world captured on the stones, and the effect of seeing the intaglio image in relief even though it is incised into the stone. The optical illusion is also apparent in the photograph: as soon as our eyes recognize the image experience overrides the sensory reality and we all see the image in the way nature usually presents it, as a body with volume, not the negative space created by the engraver. Another characteristic of looking at gems is reported by Galen, the physician of the 2nd century AD. He reports in De usu partititum15 studying a gem engraved with Phaeton on a quadriga: at first he can’t make out the fine details and only when he turns the gem into the light at the right angle suddenly the bridle and even the front teeth of the horses become evident. Of course even when we photograph gems we make use of this ‘sweet spot’ when we tilt the gem until the polished surface is reflecting the light in just the right way, like a mirror, and the engraving suddenly becomes more visible.

dedication, as we can see from surviving inventory lists of the Athenian Acropolis and the sanctuaries at Delos. Dedications usually seem to have been given on an individual basis, not as complete collections, and Julius Caesar is named as the earliest reported collector, who deposited his gem collection, six cabinets, in the temple of Venus Genetrix. Of all ancient authors it is Pliny the Elder who is our most detailed source of knowledge on gemstones, engraved gems and gem engravers, dedicating his two last books of his Naturalis Historia to the subject. Not because the topic is in his eyes the least significant, but rather in the spirit of saving the best for last. He is, at least in parts, basing his text on much older sources, such as Theophrastos of Lesbos, a student of Aristotle. Pliny and other authors writing about gems are not only concerned about artists, iconography and style, they are also deeply interested in magical properties,17 and in particular the physician Dioskourides in the 1st century AD, with healing characteristic of stones and devices. Pliny is rather sketchy in his attribution of findplaces of gems, something that is treated in more detail by other authors, for example by the geographer Strabo.18

Literary sources name as the earliest committed collector of gems Mithridates VI (134–63 BC). After his defeat his cabinet of gems was dedicated by Pompey in the Capitoline Temple in Rome. Pliny blames the newly found passion for the luxury art of gem engraving in Rome on the arrival of the treasures from the East. Not only new gems were desired by collectors: old gems were apparently still in circulation and these must have been mainly collector’s items. In Pompeii a Classical scaraboid found in the excavations shows how gems of great Antiquity were treasured by a wealthy society, keen on copying statues from the same period for the display in their gardens and houses.16 Gems were considered appropriate votive offerings to the gods for a long time before Pompey’s 15  16 

Would he have access to images? After all, the primary function of intaglios is to be used as a seal, and it can be impressed without causing any damage (Figure 4). Sealings of clay have indeed survived, as the head of Helios. The piece of clay was attached to a papyrus, as the markings in the clay under the sealing show. Its survival is most likely accidental, often caused by a fire in an archive, public or private, as in the House of the Seals on Delos, where probably the sealings attached to the owner’s correspondence, contracts and other paperwork were accidently fired when his house went up in flames.

Galen, De usu partititum: 17.1.2, 448. 13-20. Pannuti. 1983: no.120, showing a griffin as device.

17  18 

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E.g. ‘Orphic’ poem ‘Peri Lithika’. Zwierlein-Diehl 2007: 3.

Greek Art in Motion. Studies in honour of Sir John Boardman ​on the occasion of his 90th birthday

Figure 5. Striped glass ringstone, green/blue/white, 18 x 12 mm, Achilles supporting Penthesileia, 1st century B.C. (Private Collection. Photo: C. Wagner).

Figure 6. Amber coloured glass intaglio: Draped bust of Octavian in profile; c.32-c.29 BC, over the prow of a ship. Set in an ancient bronze ring, 11 x 8 mm, ring 23 x 22 mm. Photo: C. Wagner.

Seals were also reproduced in antiquity in glass. Figure 5 shows an example in lurid colours.19 Workshops employing this layered technique were particularly active in the second half of the 1st century BC/ first half of the 1st century AD, and they mainly chose gems of a slightly better than average quality as their models. Glass intaglios cast in the same mould have been found: Achilles supporting Penthesileia has a duplicate in Vienna.20 Often duplicates share faults in the mould. Casts taken from casts (the second generation) often reproduce many mistakes the engraver would not have made and which enter the chain of production as result of the problems in using hot glass. The cheaper glass versions are also used as an affordable carrier of propaganda. Octavian, before he acquired the title Augustus and the portrait features modern archaeologists classify as the Prima Porta type, was rather proud of his naval victories. An intaglio in Oxford (Figure 6) is showing the image of the young Octavian over the prow of a boat. The quality of the ring and the engraving is in stark contrast to the much more elaborately engraved images of the Emperor Augustus, such as the one on the Lothair cross (Figure 7). Gems showing Imperial symbols, including an unusually large number of Capricorn, star sign of Augustus, appear with surprising frequency among the glass gems. The presence of the glass gems, which must have been substantially cheaper, than even the gems engraved with very sketchy, low quality devices, which have also survived in large number, shows how owning a seal became an important feature in almost all classes of society. Pliny blames the newly found passion for the luxury art of gem engraving in Rome on the arrival of the treasures from the East. Old gems had still been in

Figure 7. Augustus cameo, Lothair Cross, Aachen. Photo: G. Schmidt. circulation and these probably were mainly collector’s items. It comes as no surprise that in Pompeii a Classical scaraboid found in the excavations shows how gems of great Antiquity were treasured by a wealthy society, keen on copying statues from the same period for the display in their gardens and houses.21

Boardman 2018: 14, no.102 (also for further bibliography about the class). 20  Zwierlein-Diehl 1979: 2, no. 670 19 

21 

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Pannuti 1983: no.120.

Claudia Wagner – Studying Gems: Collectors and Scholars

Figure 8. ‘Scipio Ring,’ Sard intaglio, set in an ancient gold ring, 11 x 9mm, ring 25 x 20mm. Duke of Northumberland, Alnwick Castle. Photo: C. Wagner. The most common material used for sealing in Antiquity must have been wax. Unfortunately it is not a very durable material, but light. In the many instances in which ancient authors report the techniques of how a seal can be broken and replaced surreptitiously, the seal appears to have been a wax seal. In particular the 2nd AD satirist Lucian examines in great detail the methods employed by the new cult of Glycon in Abonoteichos,22 in which the oracle was consulted by submitting a sealed question, which was miraculously answered, apparently without breaking the seal. Alexandros, founder of the cult, is accused by Lucian to have used a hot needle to carefully remove the seals, he then reattached, giving the believers the impression second sight and not trickery allowed the oracle to give a correct answer to their question.

The impressions, however, are not our only record. The gems Henry bought had originally been collected by Abraham Goorle of Antwerp, who classicised his name as Abrahamus Gorlaeus. He had his intaglios set in simple presentation rings for display in his dactyliotheca, his collection of finger rings, and his publication of 1609 is regarded as the first comprehensive catalogues of a gem cabinet, a monument he set to himself and his collection.24 But where had Gorlaeus’ gems come from? Some gems had been lost in Antiquity. The glue sticking the intaglio into a metal mount was made of organic material, often not very secure and in particular in hot steamy environments, such as the baths, many came unstuck only to end up in the drains. Fieldwalking near Roman sites can be a rewarding enterprise for the dedicated collector. Jochanan Hendler and his son Shay have gathered an impressive collection of over 500 objects, gems, finger rings and seal boxes, from  Caesarea  Maritima, on their walks between 1950 and 1970,25 dating from the 2nd century BC to the 13th century AD.

Scholars of gems whose materials have survived show how useful wax seals are in the study of gem cabinets. Elias Ashmole made a set from the collection of Prince Henry, brother of Charles I, now kept in the Bodleian Libary.23 With the exception of one gem, given by Henry to his friend Lord Arundel, the collection went to Charles and disappeared after his execution without a trace. Arundel’s ring, now in Belvoir Castle, and these wax impressions which have survived in the Bodleian Library in Oxford are record of the lost ‘King’s cabinet’.

In antiquity some owners of gems and finger rings had their treasures placed in graves (Figure 8). This gold ring with an intaglio showing Victory is known as Scipio ring. The Vatican antiquary, Visconti, found it in the family grave of the Scipios, and connected the find with their most illustrious ancestor, Lucius Cornelius Scipio Barbatus, consul and patrician officer who defeated the Etruscans in 298 BC and died in 280. His

Lucian, Alexander the False Prophet: 20. See also Chaniotis 2004: 10. Elias Ashmole’s (1617–1692) set of wax impressions: from the collection of Prince Henry, Bodleian Library, Oxford: MS Ashmole 1138. Henig Appendix 2; in Aschengreen Piacenti et alli 2008: 268-281. 22  23 

24  25 

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Wagner et alli 2009: 10, fig.8-11. Amorai-Stark et alli 2016.

Greek Art in Motion. Studies in honour of Sir John Boardman ​on the occasion of his 90th birthday

Figure 9. Philoctetes fanning his wounded leg. Sardonyx cameo, 20 x 16mm. 2nd century BC. Electrotype by Nevil Story Maskelyne, Engraving by Vico of the gem in the Grimani Collection. Photo: C. Wagner. sarcophagus is now in the Vatican Museum. Unfortunately the ring dates to the early 1st century AD and must have belonged to one of the later members of family (if indeed it has anything at all to do with the Scipios). The ring had been given to the Duke of Northumberland’s tutor, Dutens by Pope Pius VI, and in his turn Dutens gave the ring to his pupil and friend, where it is still in the collection, kept in Alnwick castle.26

father Lorenzo, when he had to flee Florence in 1494.27 He lost one of them, a great chalcedony, showing Diomedes with the palladion, leaping over the altar of the Trojan’s sanctuary of Athena. The cameo may be lost but luckily impressions had been made. The rebirth of interest in the Roman past went hand in hand with renewed scholarship, and scholars treasured the study of impressions of gems they could not afford to buy.

After the fall of the Roman Empire many Greek and Roman gems survived above ground, on through the Middle Ages. They were naturally prized as jewellery and there was no temptation, as with precious metals, to destroy them. They were reused to decorate pieces of religious furniture such as crosses, reliquaries and book bindings. The gems themselves carried scenes and figures of pagan gods and scenes. Some were misunderstood, re-interpreted, or just ignored. The pagan iconography incised on the colourful stones might have been recognized - intaglios in religious settings placed upside down might have been positioned in this fashion for that very reason. On the Lothair Cross Augustus appears on the glorious cameo in pride of place (Figure 7). The lesser gems make up the decorative scheme, roughly sorted by size and colour, their subjects without consequence.

Major architectural monuments celebrating imperial successes were excavated and preserved, sculpture and reliefs from a variety of contexts served as inspiration to new generations of artists reinterpreting scenes of classical myth on a wide variety of objects. Educated noblemen and artists were expected to have benefited from a classical education, and ancient literature became a further source of classical story-telling. Impressions in wax, sulphur, glass and plaster made ancient gems more widely accessible to scholars, collectors and artists. And engraved drawings, rare before the later 16th century, become more common: gem collectors saw catalogues of their cabinets increasingly as a way to win prestige, and even eventually as virtual sale catalogues. However, scholars were more and more aware that it is in impressions, that gems of the highest quality could be studied in detail. And at the beginning of the 18th century the assembly of impressions in large collections becomes a new phenomenon. Daniel Lippert’s (1702-85) Dactyliothek was bought by a wide section of society: Johann Wolfgang von Goethe owned a set to complement his small collection of gems. He had also bought red sulphur casts made by Christian Dehn in Rome. Rome would become a centre of the production of sets of impressions. Cades, Liberotti and the Paoletti family were not just relying on scholars but also targeted travellers on the Grand Tour with their casts. The tourists may not have been able to make their own collections of gems and coins, but a far simpler and cheaper way to have access to such art, and in numbers, was to purchase sets of casts and impressions from these manufacturers. Boxes were being produced in quantity in Italy in the later 18th and 19th centuries, often in book form, where the back and front would be lined with a catalogue of the contents, which were two pages, back-to-

The craft of gem engraving, however, was not forgotten and both intaglios and cameos were still being made, decorated with portraits, or a variety of sacred subjects. Early Renaissance noble families embraced the collection of ancient gems. In the 15th century the Pope Paul II (formerly Cardinal Pietro Barbo (1417–1471)) recorded them in an inventory: a voracious collector he acquired more than 800 engraved cameos and intaglios, listed by subject. His collection was sold and dispersed after his death and his gems were picked up by other personalities of 15th and 16th century Europe with resourceful collecting habits, such as the Medici of Florence, the Grimani of Venice, Isabella d’Este and the Gonzaga princes of Mantua. Dealers were facilitating their rich clients’ hunger for Antiquities, and often became owners of famous pieces at least for a time. Gems were highly prized and portable. Piero de Medici, decided to grab three of the family’s most famous gems, collected by his illustrious

26 

Scarisbrick et alli 2017, no. 167.

27 

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Spier 2014: 68-69, and note 18.

Claudia Wagner – Studying Gems: Collectors and Scholars

back, of plaster impressions. These would generally relate to a particular collection or subject, and there were many new gems being cut to remind collectors of the appearance of the famous works of major sculpture to be seen. Lippert, and all other manufacturers of impressions, were to be outdone by James Tassie. He developed a porcelain-like substance he called paste – a white glass, perfected the casting of glass and brittle but crisp impressions from red sulphur. No one could surpass him in the collection of moulds, his greatest coup was the substantial collection of casts amassed by the scholar and spy Baron von Stosch Tassie was able to buy from his estate. In 1791 he was able to publish a catalogue of nearly 16.000 gem impressions from which the public could choose their own selection. Catherine the Great of Russia had encouraged Tassie. The only complete collections of the Tassie casts ever commissioned are in St Petersburg, and the V&A, another set in Edinburgh (Tassie’s home), was given to the National Museums by his nephew William, who had taken over the business after James’ death. Catherine the Great was passionate about gems, her agents were active throughout Europe to buy what they could for her and some of the finest gems from famous collections, such as the Duc d’Orleans, were to go to the Hermitage. She invited some of the most illustrious contemporary engravers, such as Lorenz Natter and the Brown brothers to come to her court, and even her courtiers were encouraged to take up the art of gem cutting.

Figure 10. Head of Alexander in profile. Tourmaline intaglio, 25 x 25 mm, Ashmolean (1892.1499) G.J. Chester Bequest. Photo: C. Wagner. inscription is omitted.30 The electrotype demonstrates that in cameo carving the artist sometimes introduced nuances of relief detail on the translucent stone which are barely if at all visible to the naked eye, but are immediately clear in a solid opaque cast. Story Maskelyne produced a series of bright, utterly accurate copies of the original stones.

In the 19th century a major scandal shattered the confidence of gem collectors and scholars.

We are lucky that all the problems faced by collectors and scholars has not dented the enthusiasm of the many intrepid Oxford figures who have left a lasting legacy. From Pitt Rivers, whose gems are now in the Pitt Rivers Museum in Oxford,31 to the Rev. Chester Greville.32 Chesters donations and acquisitions range from the first seals from the Near East to reach the Ashmolean Museum to the big corpus of engraved gems, bequeathed to the Museum on his death. They include one of the most important and beautiful Hellenistic stones, now in the Ashmolean, a portrait of Alexander the Great with the horns of Ammon (Figure 10), published by Sir John: the first to spot the tiny inscription in Karoshti under the neck.33

Prince Stanislas Poniatowski (1754-1833),28 nephew and heir to the last King of Poland, was one of the great collectors of his generation. He built up a gem collection rumoured to be the most significant collection of classical gems. After his death the collection of about 2600 gems was reluctantly identified as entirely fake. The subjects illustrating Homer, Virgil and Ovid, and the most comprehensive corpus of Greek and Roman portraits were engraved by neo-classical engravers. Collectors, antiquarians and scholars reluctantly had to admit how difficult it had become to distinguish Ancient from neoclassical gems. The scandal was not the end of scholarship in the Glyptics. In the mid-nineteenth century an exciting new way of copying gems for study emerged- electrotyping. Nevil Story Maskelyne, an Oxford professor of mineralogy who had become obsessed with gems, used the method. He was trusted with gems from public and private collections. The letter on the right addresses the Duke of Northumberland, whom he helped in evaluating the collection. You can see the advantage of being able to study the gem in the electrotype rather than an engraving. Cardinal Grimani owned a spectacular Hellenistic cameo signed ‘by Boethos’: the signature is in the field, top left, in relief (Figure 10).29 Comparing the three versions of the cameo shows the dangers of having to rely on an artist’s translation of a gem: on Enea Vico’s engraving details to the animal skin on the ground are added and the important

28  29 

Among the important collectors and benefactor of the Ashmolean Sir Arthur Evans must be mentioned. A substantial part of his collection is now in Oxford. He not only bought Minoan gems but from his travels in Dalmatia many Roman gems entered the collection. We mustn’t forget Beazley himself: here is his Europa on the bull (Figure 11), graciously donated to the Ashmolean collection. And even Sir John himself became an accidental collector. He published together with Diana the Ralph Harari collection in 1976. As reward he was asked to choose one of the gems, and to everyone’s surprise he chose this blue chalcedony tabloid, set in a modern gold hoop (Figure 12). The reason why everyone was so surprised is evident at first glance: in the catalogue The figure taken for a philosophus stoicus :Vico pl. 29.1; ZwierleinDiehl 2007: 69-70, pl. 61.243, pl. 80.344 (Etruscan version). 31  See e.g. the red jasper cornicen Henig 2017: 26-7. 32  Seidmann 2006: 22-33. Buchanan 1966. 33  Boardman 1970/2001: no.998; Boardman et alli 1978: no. 280. 30 

Wagner 2008: 565-572. Scarisbrick et alli 2017: 7, no.3.

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Greek Art in Motion. Studies in honour of Sir John Boardman ​on the occasion of his 90th birthday

On the left another standing figure with a sceptre is shown, this time with a human head, crowned, most likely with a disc, and an ankh held in the lowered hand. The seated figure on the right is Isis feeding the baby Horus. John owned a unique Hellenistic engraved gem demonstrating the technique of the engraver. The collection history of the gem is impressive, it had belonged to Sir Robert Mond and Newton Robinson before it caught the eye of the great archaeologist and director of the Antiquarium in Berlin, Adolf Furtwaengler.34 When John thought about giving it a more permanent home he thought Furtwaengler’s museum would appreciate it most and it is now back in the Antikensammlung.

John puts it admirably: ‘The artistic and iconographic merits of this stone are nil and negligible’. It is an unfinished stone. Where the gem engraver usually polishes off all the marks his tools made, here we can study his technique. From the outline he draws with a sharp tool, possibly even a diamond point, even though Jack Ogden has shown, that another chalcedony, in particular a weathered one, is already hard enough to produce this kind of incision.

Even in this small exploration of collectors we have seen a great variety of personalities and collecting habits. Engraved gems, classical and neo-classical alike, are things of great beauty. Coveted and highly prized they represent the owner’s wealth and status. Unlike a diamond encrusted Rolex watch classical gems are not usually the symbols of prosperity chosen by the ‘nouveau riche,’ but allow the owner to show off a classical education and a thorough knowledge of history, the pursuit of an academic hobby. A gem collection was generally not considered an ostentatious and vulgar display of affluence. And even though many of the greatest gem collections were assembled by wealthy aristocrats, scholars and academics were always establishing collections of their own.

Top left the engraver has only marked the stone with the outline of the figure: a standing figure with a ram’s head and sceptre, possibly Ammon. Top right the figure is taking more shape: the engraver has started to remove material from torso, buttocks and thighs with the cutting wheel, the head, possibly a jackal, is again only indicated in the outline sketch. It identifies him as Anubis. The two figures at the bottom show the more advanced stage of engraving: shallow scoring of the dress has been applied over the volume of the bodies.

John’s collecting days are probably over, not his working days: we have just published together with Julia Kagan and the Hermitage an unfinished project of Lorenz Natter, the Museum Britannicum. We are about to publish the gem collection of the Earl of Yarborough also known as THE WORSLEY GEMS. Collected by Sir Richard Worsley, whose scandalous life featured recently in a BBC production in which the actor of the young Inspector Morse (Endeavour) played our collector.

Figure 11. Europa on the bull. Moss agate, scaraboid, 19 x 14. Ashmolean (1966. 596) Given by Sir John Beazley.

Figure 12. ‘Furtwaengler gem.’ Blue chalcedony tabloid, Hellenistic, prob. 2nd century B.C., now Antikensammlung Berlin (inv. 2009,6). Photo: C. Wagner.

34 

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Boardman et alli 1976: 31-2, no. 44.

Claudia Wagner – Studying Gems: Collectors and Scholars

Bilbliography

von Abonouteichos. Heidelberg: Forum Ritualdynamik; Diskussionsbeiträge des SFB 619 ‚Ritualdynamik‘ der Ruprecht-Karls- Universität Heidelberg. Christensen, S. R. 2012. A commentary on select poems by Posidippus of Pella. Thesis (D.Phil.): University of Oxford. Henig, M. 2017. Roman Gems in Old Collections and in Modern Archaeology. In B.van den Bercken and V. Baan (eds) Engraved Gems: From antiquity to the present. Leiden: Sidestone Press. Scarisbrick, D., C. Wagner and J. Boardman, 2017. The Beverley Collection of Gems at Alnwick Castle. The Philip Wilson Gems and Jewellery Series. London: Philip Wilson. Seidmann G. 2006. The Rev. Greville John Chester and ‘The Ashmolean Museum as a Home for Archaeology in Oxford, Bulletin for the History of Archaeology 16 (1), 27-33. Spier, J. 2014. A Cameo from the Medici Collection. Antike Kunst, vol. 57: 67-77. Pannuti, U. 1983. Catalogo della collezione glittica. Vol.1. Roma: Istituto poligrafico e zecca dello stato: Libreria dello Stato. Plantzos, D. 1999. Hellenistic Engraved Gems. Oxford : Clarendon Press. Wagner, C. and J. Boardman 2003. A collection of Classical and Eastern intaglios, rings and cameos. Oxford : The Beazley Archive and Archaeopress. Wagner, C. 2008. A Picture-book of Antiquity: the Neoclassical Gem Collection of Prince Poniatowski. In: IMAGINES: La Antigüedad en las Artes Escénicas y Visuales . Logroño : Universidad de La Rioja. Wagner, C. and J. Boardman 2009. Gems and the Classical Tradition: Studies in Gems and Jewellery. Oxford : The Beazley Archive and Archaeopress. Wagner, C. 2018. Collecting at Alnwick Castle: engraved gems in the collection of the Duke of Northumberland. In Collecting and Collectors. From Antiquity to Modernity. Selected Papers in Ancient Art and Architecture (SPAAA), (Proceedings of the 2017 Annual meeting in Toronto; 2018). Boston: Archaeological Institute of America. Zwierlein-Diehl, E. 1979. Die antiken Gemmen des Kunsthistorischen Museums in Wien. Vol. 2. München: Prestel. Zwierlein-Diehl, E. 2007. Antike Gemmen und ihr Nachleben. Berlin; New York: Walter de Gruyter.

Amorai-Stark, S., M. Hershkovitz and L. Holland 2016. Ancient Gems, Finger Rings and Seal Boxes from Caesarea Maritima: The Hendler Collection. Zirchron Yaakov: self-published by Shay Hendler. Aschengreen Piacenti, K. and J. Boardman 2008; with contributions by B. Chadour-Sampson and M. Henig. Ancient and modern gems and jewels in the collection of Her Majesty The Queen. London: Royal Collection. Beazley, J.D. (ed. Boardman, J.) 1920, 2003. The Lewes House Gems. Oxford: The Beazley Archive and Archeopress. Boardman, J. 1963. Island gems: a study of Greek seals in the geometric and early archaic periods. London : Society for the Promotion of Hellenic Studies. Boardman, J. 1968a. Archaic Greek gems: schools and artists in the sixth and early fifth centuries B.C. Evanston: Northwestern University Press. Boardman, J. 1968b. Engraved gems: the Ionides Collection. London: Thames and Hudson. Boardman, J. 1970/2001. Greek Gems and Finger Rings: Early Bronze Age to Late Classical. London : Thames & Hudson. Boardman, J. 1975. Intaglios and rings: Greek, Etruscan and Eastern: from a private collection. London: Thames and Hudson. Boardman, J. and D. Scarisbrick 1976. The Ralph Harari Collection of finger rings: published on the occasion of the exhibition, June 9-11, 14-18 (10-5 daily). London: S.J. Phillips. Boardman, J. and D. Scarisbrick 1977. The Wellington gems. London: S.J. Phillips, Ltd. Boardman, J. and M.-L.Vollenweider 1978. Catalogue of the engraved gems and finger rings. Ashmolean Museum. 1. Greek and Etruscan.Oxford: Clarendon Press; New York: Oxford University Press. Boardman, J. 2003. Classical Phoenician scarabs: a catalogue and study. Oxford: Archaeopress. Boardman, J. and C. Wagner 2018. Masterpieces in Miniature. The Philip Wilson Gems and Jewellery Series. London: Philip Wilson. Buchanan, B. 1966. Catalogue of ancient Near Eastern seals in the Ashmolean Museum v. 1. Cylinder seals. Oxford: Clarendon Press; New York: Oxford University Press. Chaniotis, A. 2004. Wie erfindet man Rituale für einen neuen Kult? Recycling von Ritualen - das Erfolgsrezept Alexanders

45

Buildings and History1 P. J. Rhodes secure date.5 The temple was at any rate not completed before the 420’s, and those who favour late dates in general date the first decree not long before the second; but I am among those who think that a version of the temple was included in the original plans for the acropolis programme (and that its significance should be assessed in that light), and that the Propylaea departed from absolute symmetry in order not to encroach on the temple’s site. I therefore date the first decree in the early 440’s, or at the latest in the 430’s.

I1felt something of an interloper at this celebration, since I am not an archaeologist but a historian. However, I have benefited considerably from Sir John’s work, as all Greek historians have. Beyond that, as an undergraduate in Oxford I attended some of Sir John’s lectures; and it so happens that he was the College Dean who presented me for the conferment of my D.Phil. degree in 1969.2 ***

How the buildings were funded has become a subject of debate. According to Plutarch Pericles’ opponents including Thucydides son of Melesias objected that, after moving the Delian League’s treasury from Delos, Athens was using the money contributed for fighting in order to gild and tart up the city like a wanton woman. Pericles replied that Athens did not need to account to the allies for the money as long as it kept them safe from the Persians, and in the end he offered to pay for and dedicate the buildings himself, but the people gave him their backing.6 The editors of the Athenian Tribute Lists on a flimsy basis constructed a fifteen-year plan for drawing on League money.7 However, Andrewes made a general attack on the reliability of that part of Plutarch’s Pericles, and more recently Kallet exposed the weakness of the A.T.L. scheme; Migeotte in Les Finances des cités grecques thought that the tribute was scarcely enough to cover military expenses and so could not have paid for buildings.8 Andrewes I think was too sweeping in his condemnation of Plutarch; Kallet undermined the particular scheme of A.T.L. but not any possibility of payment; in many years in the 440’s and 430’s I think the tribute should have been more than enough to cover military expenses. The tribute will at least have supported the building programme indirectly, by paying for Athens’ navy and military activity and therefore leaving more of the city’s money free for other purposes, and I should not rule out any possibility of a direct transfer.

Archaeologists and historians need each other, but the relationship is not always straightforward, in general and in the particular example which I have chosen to discuss, buildings and history. Historians like to know when buildings were erected, and what was the significance of the erection of those particular buildings at that particular time. In a few cases we have precise dates, from accounts of the money spent on the work or from other texts: for instance, for the ‘Periclean’ buildings put up on the Athenian acropolis in the 440’s and 430’s. But in far more cases we have only archaeological dates, derived for instance from the style of the building and from the archaeological dates of objects found in the foundations, and these dates can only be approximate and in some cases are controversial. For the Periclean work on the acropolis we have the accounts for the Parthenon, for the chryelephantine statue of Athena and for the Propylaea, as we have the accounts for the second phase of work on the Erechtheum when that was resumed in the last decade of the century; and we have the decrees (which I date 434/3, though that is controversial) which on my dating wound up the programme on the approach of the Peloponnesian War.3 But even here other matters are problematic. An inscription containing fragments from another set of accounts has long been thought to pertain to the statue of Athena Promachos, but recently that identification has been challenged.4 More notoriously controversial are the temple and priestess of Athena Nike, for which we have two decrees on the front and back of the same stele, the second almost certainly to be dated 424/3 but the first lacking a

It is debated whether or not there was a Peace of Callias between Athens and Persia in the middle of the fifth century (and I am one of the minority who think that the Peace of Callias was invented after the King’s Peace of 387/6, to substantiate the contrast between the humiliation of the King’s Peace and the glories of the fifth century)9. However, it seems certain that after c. 450 Athens and the Delian League no longer engaged in regular warfare against the Persians; so

I salute Sir John on his 90th birthday; and I thank the organisers / editors for arranging this celebration and including me in it, and all those with whom I enjoyed fruitful discussions, especially Prof. O. Palagia on the tombs at Vergina. 2  We have an indirect connection also, in that one of his contemporaries at Chigwell School, J. W. Finnett, became one of my sixth-form Classics masters when I was at school. 3  Parthenon, IG i3 436–451, 461 (extracts O&R 145); statue, 453–460 (extracts O&R 135); Propylaea, 462–466; Erechtheum, 474–479 (extracts O&R 181); decrees which I date 434/3, 52 = O&R 144 with Rhodes 2015. 4  IG i3 435. Challenged, Stroud 2006: 26–32; cf. Palagia 2013: esp. 119–120 (she suggests that the Promachos was a version of, and contemporary with, the chryselephantine statue in the Parthenon); Tracy 2016: 95–96. Challenge ignored, Shear 2016: 17–21, 31–32, dating the inscription mid fifth century from its letter forms. 1 

IG i3 35, 36 = O&R 137, 156. See the commentaries of O&R (with a preferred date of 438–435 for the first decree). The first decree has the older form of sigma but newer forms of some other letters: I need not here rehearse the arguments about letter forms and the dating of fifth-century Athenian inscriptions, but my own view is that earlier dates for inscriptions with the older style of lettering are not necessarily right but are not in every case necessarily wrong. 6  Plut. Per. 12–14. 7  E.g. Meritt et al. 1939–1953: iii. 326–328. 8  Andrewes 1978; Kallet 1989; Migeotte 2014: 438. 9  See, e.g., Rhodes 2010: 53–54; the earliest clear mention of the Peace is in Isoc. 4. Paneg. 117–120, of c. 380. 5 

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there is at any rate some truth behind the complaint against the building programme mentioned by Plutarch, and this change in Athenian policy is a part of the context in which the programme must be understood. Shear in his recent book Trophies of Victory argues that ‘Most of the temples [on the acropolis and elsewhere] seem to have been conceived as thank-offerings to the gods for victories in the Persian Wars, and most particularly the victory in the Battle of Marathon’, and that ‘it was [Pericles’] enduring achievement to inspire the political will’ by which the demos took the series of decisions necessary to accomplish that programme.10

away from the acropolis, there are many Athenian buildings for which we do not have a precise date, though we should very much like to have a date and a context. Many are civic buildings related to the history of Athens’ democracy, and there has been a temptation to link these with particular stages in the development of the democracy.16 Hurwit in his book on the acropolis claimed of religious buildings that ‘between 508 and 490, the democracy deliberately and thoroughly put its stamp on the religious spaces of Athens’.17 On the other hand, Whitley in his Archaeology of Ancient Greece, while he has a chapter entitled, ‘The Archaeology of Democracy: Classical Athens’, and within that chapter section headings which repeatedly mention democracy, in his actual text is in fact much more cautious about making connections of that kind.18 There are some cases where I am happy to believe in a political significance for the erection of that building at that time, but I am not happy to extend this to all buildings.

There is a problem of another kind concerning the acropolis programme. Work began in 447/6 (I leave aside as uncertain the date of the statue of Athena Promachos). Later texts quote an oath allegedly sworn before the battle of Plataea in 479 (but we have no fifth-century evidence for it), and some versions but not all include an undertaking to leave in ruins as a memorial the temples destroyed by the Persians when they sacked Athens in 480/79.11 If the oath and that clause are authentic, the Athenians decided to break it in the 440’s; if they are not, we have to explain why the temples on the acropolis were left in ruins until the 440’s. The oath is one of a number of alleged fifth-century documents of which there is no good evidence before the fourth century, and I align myself with those who believe that most at any rate are not authentic survivals of early texts but later reconstructions — not fantasies, but based on some genuine information — made later in order to make more vivid what people thought they knew about the fifth century.12 Whether there was an oath before Plataea, and how much was later known about it, must remain uncertain, but I do not think fifth-century Athenians would have thought it appropriate not to rebuild temples which had been destroyed, and I suspect that the undertaking not to rebuild was invented later to explain why the temples had in fact not been rebuilt for thirty years and more. An alternative explanation has recently been suggested by Shear: that before the 440’s there were simply not enough skilled workmen available to make the programme feasible.13

The ‘old bouleuterion’ was built on the west side of the agora about the end of the sixth century or the early fifth.19 The excavators have wavered between the two dates, but most recently in the latest Site Guide Camp writes, ‘perhaps built soon after the reforms of Kleisthenes to accommodate the newly formed council of 500’.20 The link with Cleisthenes and his remodelling of the council is attractive, and I have accepted it myself. The previous buildings on the site of the bouleuterion and the neighbouring tholos were very different and far more complex. They are regularly assumed to have been public buildings, and it has sometimes been claimed that they were used by Solon’s council, but there is nothing apart from the coincidence of site to support that. Most recently Camp has suggested that the largest building is to be dated to the mid sixth century (previously it had been dated slightly later), and that it may have served as a palace for the Pisisitratids,21 but apart from the date that is purely speculative. The Pnyx, where the assembly met, was first laid out in the late sixth century, and again it is plausibly suggested that this was another work of the régime established by Cleisthenes, in

Of earlier temples on the acropolis, Dörpfeld originally thought that the predecessor of the Parthenon was built after the Persian Wars, but after accepting that that was mistaken he argued that there was a first phase in the construction of the predecessor in the late sixth century, followed by a second phase in the 480’s. That view was undermined by Dinsmoor, and it now seems reasonably certain that there was one predecessor of the Parthenon, begun in the 480’s.14 There have been differing views also about the ‘old temple of Athena’, on the ‘Dörpfeld site’ between the Parthenon and the Erechtheum, which has been variously dated to the 520’s, towards the end of the Pisistratid tyranny, or else at the end of the century, after the overthrow of the tyranny.15 And,

Shear 2016: 192 seems to incline to the later date. 16  For what follows cf. briefly Rhodes 2015b: 61–62. I need not discuss here the date when the concept of demokratia was first formulated: different dates are championed in different chapters of Raaflaub et al. 2007; I favour Raaflaub’s view that the concept should be dated to the second quarter of the fifth century. 17  Hurwit 1999: 121–125 quoting 121. For instance, he claims both that the abandonment of work on the Pisistratids’ temple of Zeus Olympios and the building of the ‘old temple of Athena’ (for which he accepts a date after the overthrow of the tyranny) reflect Athens’ new democratic orientation (121). 18  Whitley 2001: 327–375 ch. xiii. 19  Identification of building doubted, Miller 1995; defended, Shear 1995. Miller suggested that in the fifth century the council met on the benches below and to the east of the temple of Hephaestus (143–152); Shear replied briefly (184–185 with n. 71); Camp dates the benches to the second half of the fifth century, and describes them as ‘clearly . . . a meeting place for one of the law courts or governing bodies of Athens’ (2010: 70). 20  See Rhodes 1972: 30 with n. 11; Thompson and Wycherley 1972: 29–30 with n. 25; Camp 2010: 60–63 at 61, cf. 2001: 44. 21  Solon’s council (with actual meetings in the open air), Thompson 1940: 43. Doubts, Rhodes 1972: 18–19; Thompson and Wycherley 1972: 25–29. Pisistratid palace, first suggested by Thompson 1962: 21; revived by Shear 1978: 5–7; cf. Camp 2010: 50, and more tentatively, with a date 550–525, 2001: 35.

Shear 2016: 389, 391. Lacking the clause, R&O 88. 21–51; including the clause, Lyc. Leocr. 80–82, Diod. Sic. 11.29.1–3, cf. such texts as Isoc. 4. Paneg. 156. 12  See in particular Habicht 1961. The oath was one of the documents rejected by Theopomp. FGrH 115 F 153. On the ‘Peace of Callias’ cf. above. 13  Shear 2016: 8–11. 14  After Persian Wars, Dörpfeld 1892; late C6 and 480’s, Dörpfeld 1902; 480’s only, Dinsmoor 1934. On the whole debate see Shear 2016: 395– 399, with work cited there. 15  520’s, Dinsmoor 1947: 112–118; last decade of century, Childs 1994. 10  11 

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Greek Art in Motion. Studies in honour of Sir John Boardman ​on the occasion of his 90th birthday

which the assembly could be expected to be more important than it had been under the Pisistratid tyranny.22

and immediately to the east of that the odeion of Pericles.27 The odeion is said to have been built for the musical contest at the Panathenaea, and, modelled on the Persian King’s tent, to have had a pointed roof and to have been polyedron (‘manyseated’, or perhaps ‘many-sided’) and polystelon (‘manycolumned’). Shear in a recent discussion remarks that the building cannot be dated archaeologically but that literary evidence perhaps suggests the 440’s; and that what was most important about it was that it held a large audience and was a quintessential trophy of victory over the Persians.28

Another public building of the late sixth century or the early fifth in the agora was the Stoa of the Basileus, at the north end of the west side. There is no clear indication of an earlier building on the site. The basileus was one of the three earliest archons; a building could have been erected for him under any régime, and indeed the Perseus web site, on what basis I have not been able to discover, dates it c. 525. Camp’s latest view is ambiguous: ‘The style of the architecture points to an original date for the stoa in the neighborhood of 500 b.c. The reuse of much old material in the foundations, however, would be more explicable if the building had been erected after the Persian sack of 480/79 b.c.’23 This building is one of those which point to the development of the agora as a centre for Athenian government in the years c. 500, but I do not think that this has a particular democratic (or ur-democratic) significance, as the bouleuterion and the Pnyx do.

What is puzzling about the the adjacent theatre of Dionysus is that, although a stone theatre in the deme of Thoricus was created already in the late sixth century and modified in the mid fifth,29 the city of Athens did not have one until the third quarter of the fourth century. The answer now appears to be that work on a stone theatre was in fact begun before the Peloponnesian War but was abandoned at the beginning of the war.30

Other stoas were built in the agora in the fifth century. The Stoa Poikile was north-east of the Stoa of the Basileus. It is dated archaeologically c. 475–460. It was attributed to a Peisianax; that name is rare in Athens, but one bearer of it was perhaps a brother-in-law of Cimon, and Plutarch has a story that the painter Polygnotus depicted Cimon’s sister Elpinice in one of the stoa’s paintings; one of the paintings was of the battle of Marathon, the great achievement of Cimon’s father Miltiades. Whatever we make of stories about Elpinice, a link with Cimon in the time of his predominance in Athens is acceptable.24

Further building was done at the end of the fifth century and / or the beginning of the fourth: a new bouleuterion was built to the west of the old, and the old became the Metroum and a repository for archives. The Pnyx was remodelled, and its direction reversed, so that the speakers faced north and inland and the other citizens faced south and seawards. Buildings for the lawcourts, perhaps the first dedicated to that use, and a mint for bronze coins, were erected in the north-east and south-east of the agora respectively. Also to be taken into account are the resumption of work on the Erechtheum, between 409/8 and 405/4,31 and the publication of the revised code of laws at the Stoa of the Basileus, from 410/09.32 In view of Athens’ various changes of régime at the end of the fifth century, it would be particularly useful if these could be dated precisely and assigned to their proper context; and a throughgoing attempt to do that has been made by Julia Shear.33 She argues that after each of Athens’ bouts of oligarchy, 411–410 and 404–403, there was a need to reclaim the city’s public spaces for democracy, and she interprets the buildings of this period in that light.

The Stoa of Zeus, south of the Stoa of the Basileus, was built perhaps in the 420’s–410’s, and the first version of the South Stoa, which was used by officials, is dated to the late fifth century.25 We cannot give these a precise context, but they serve to remind us that the Peloponnesian War did not put a stop to all building in Athens. The tholos, the round house to the south of the bouleuterion, became the headquarters of the prytaneis, the fifty councillors from one tribe who held that position for a tenth of the year. This has regularly been dated c. 470–465; since there is no good evidence for prytaneis of that kind before Ephialtes’ reform of 462/1, I have suggested that the tholos was built after that, that just as the bouleuterion was built for Cleisthenes’ new council, the tholos was built for the new prytaneis instituted when Ephialtes gave additional business to the council.26

In the period beginning 41034 she notes the use of the Stoa of the Basileus to house the revised code of laws which had been undertaken; and she assigns to this period the building of the new bouleuterion and the use of the old as a repository for archives, suggesting that this was necessary because the old bouleuterion was contaminated by the submissive council of 412/1 and by its use by the Four Hundred. The choice of the Stoa as the home for the revised laws is less remarkable if, as seems likely, it had already become the home for the axones

Below the acropolis to the south-east were public buildings of a different kind, the theatre and sanctuary of Dionysus,

Odeion attributed to Pericles, Lyc. fr. IX.2/58 Conomis [editors: Conomis has two numbersing systems, the first of which uses roman numerals as here], Plut. Per. 13.9–11. 28  Shear 2016: 197–228. ‘Many-sided’, as the effect created by a pyramidal roof over a square building, Miller 1997: 227, accepted by Shear 2016: 208–9. 29  E.g. Mee and Spawforth 2001: 101–104. 30  Papastamati-von Moock 2014: 20–23. 31  Cf. IG i3 474–9 (extracts O&R 181): the preamble of 474 refers explicitly to the resumption of the work. 32  This stoa is mentioned explicitly in the republication of Draco’s homicide law, IG i3 104.7–8 (409/8); cf. the references to ‘the stoa’ in Andoc. 1. Myst. 82, 85. 33  Shear 2011. 34  Shear 2011: 112–134 ch. iv. 27 

E.g. Travlos 1971: 466–467; Calligas 1996: 3. 23  C. 525, http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/ artifact%3Fname%3DAthens,%2520Stoa%2520Basileios %2520(Royal%2520Stoa)%26object%3DBuilding (consulted 26 June 2017). df Sixth century, Coulton 1976: 219. Late sixth or early fifth century, Camp 2010: 75–81 at 79, cf. with a date ‘ca. 500 b.c. (?)’ 2001; 45 caption to fig. 44. 24  Camp 2001: 68–69; 2010: 95–101. Peisianax a brother of Cimon’s wife Isodice, Davies 1971: 376–378. Plutarch’s story, Plut. Cim. 4.6. The paintings, Paus. 1.15. 25  Thompson and Wycherley 1972: 96–103, 74–78; Camp, 2010: 73–75, 161–164. 26  C. 470, Thompson 1940: 126–128, 153; c. 465, Camp 2010: 48–50 at 48; after Ephialtes, Rhodes 1972: 17–19. 22 

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of Draco and Solon.35 The new bouleuterion has been dated archaeologically to 410–403, but the later date of 403 seems less secure than the earlier date of 410, and we perhaps ought not to rule out building after 40336 — in which case Shear would be able to invoke contamination by the submissive council under the Thirty. Shear claims that these developments ‘identified the Agora as a space now particularly associated with the rule of the demos’.37 On the acropolis she sees the resumption of work on the Erechtheum as obscuring the oligarchy and linking the restored democracy to the past — though probably the work had been suspended before the oligarchic revolution, in which case its resumption was not of particularly democratic significance, but it perhaps more probably reflects the reviving confidence occasioned by the series of Athenian successes in the war, beginning with the victory at Cyzicus in 410.38 More generally, I think she plays down the extent to which the agora was already before 411 an area in which much of the operation of the polis — that is, of the democratic polis — took place.

correct; but I think that, writing in an era when scholars are particularly interested in spaces, she sees too much overtly democratic significance in the buildings of this period. The next period of significant building activity was (roughly) the third quarter of the fourth century; and here recent scholarship has tended to emphasise that the period of Lycurgus, in the 330’s and 320’s, was not a bolt from the blue but in various respects a continuation of the period of Eubulus, in the late 350’s and 340’s.43 The background for this period is provided by Athenian defeats, in the Social War of 356–355, at sea indeed, and by Philip of Macedon at Chaeronea, in 338. Until the mid 350’s Athens had been pursuing foreign policies which were financially more than it could afford and in their results were not successful enough to justify the expenditure. After the Social War a new generation of politicians came to the fore, and there was a reassessment of Athens’ policies. Isocrates (whom I consider to be a reflector of other people’s thinking in such matters rather than an original thinker), in his speech (8) On the Peace called for the abandonment of the old imperial policies (and suggested that the Greeks would then admire Athens so much that they would grant it what it wanted anyway). Xenophon in the climax of his Poroi insisted that to prosper financially Athens needed peace.44 It was probably in the late 350’s that the theoric fund was established, ostensibly to cover the cost of citizens’ theatre tickets at major festivals; and provision was made for any surplus revenue to be paid to that rather than to the stratiotic fund, so that the theoric fund became the repository of whatever spare money the state had, and therefore a source of funding for special projects.45

Shear accepts the statement of Plutarch that it was the Thirty who rebuilt the Pnyx and changed its orientation, while suggesting that if it was unfinished that restored democracy of 403 will have finished it. However, it has been argued persuasively that the Thirty are unlikely to have had either the time to undertake the work or the interest in the assembly to make them want to do so, and it is better to date the whole work after the restoration.39 To the period after the restoration of 40340 Shear assigns the first dedicated lawcourt buildings, in the north-east of the agora,41 and the mint for bronze coins (that for silver coins has not yet been found), in the south-east.42 These again she sees as allowing the demos to reclaim the contested space of the agora as its own after the second interruption; but courts had met in the agora before though not in dedicated buildings, and I again think she makes too much of this stage in a long development.

The defeat at Chaeronea was traumatic, but some of the policies undertaken after it, including the refashioning of the ephebeia and the modernisation and continued enlargement of the navy, suggest that not only Demosthenes but many Athenians hoped that Athens would recover from that as it had recovered from the Peloponnesian War; Macedonian supremacy would not necessarily last for ever, and Athens must be ready to seize the opportunity when it came.

We do indeed need to place and explain buildings in their context as far as we can; and readers have seen that I accept the placing of the old bouleuterion and the first Pnyx after the reforms of Cleisthenes, and that I have myself suggested that the tholos should be dated after the reforms of Ephialtes. Certainly in 410 and again in 403 the Athenians needed to reestablish their democracy after a period of oligarchy. It is possible, though not certain, that all of Shear’s dates are

The buildings of this period are distinguished from those of the Periclean period in that the fifth-century buildings were funded entirely publicly (and we have seen that the appropriation of funds from the Delian League is not to be ruled out), but for these later buildings contributions from individuals were accepted in exchange for honours. A decree proposed by Lycurgus himself honoured Eudemus of Plataea for what the inscribed text calls ‘a voluntary gift [epididonai] towards the making of the stadium and the Panathenaic theatre of a thousand yoke of oxen’, but the cutter was careless, and the text ought probably to have specified the Panathenaic stadium and the theatre. Lycurgus’ friend Xenocles in 321/0 built a bridge at Eleusis. 46

Ath. Pol. 7.1 makes the Stoa their original home, though in the time of Solon it did not yet exist; the truth behind Anaximenes FGrH 72 F 13 may be that Ephialtes moved them to the Stoa from the acropolis. 36  Shear 1995: 189, with Miller 1995: 156. Camp’s date in 2010: 58–59 is ‘the end of the fifth century’. 37  Shear 2011: 122. 38  She herself suggests that the suspension was ‘possibly as a result of the Sicilian disaster’ (113). 39  Shear 2011: 177–180, 263, where n. 1 acknowledges that it is impossible to distinguish archaeologically between work done under the Thirty and work done after. Attribution to Thirty rejected, Moysey 1981: 31–37. 40  Shear 2011: 264–274. 41  ‘At the turn of the fifth to fourth century’, Townsend 1995: 104 (buildings A and B); late fifth and fourth centuries, Camp 2010: 119– 121. 42  About the last decade of the fifth century, but not certainly a mint from the beginning, Camp and Kroll 2001: 142; end of the fifth century, Camp 2010: 155–156. Against that earlier date, Shear 2011: 269 n. 27. 35 

E.g. Faraguna 1992: esp. 267–269; Hintzen-Bohlen 1997: esp. 135– 140. 44  Xen. Vect. 5. 45  For this dating and interpretation see Rhodes 1981: 514–515. 46  Eudemus, O&R 94 = IG ii3 352.15–18; Xenocles, IG ii2 1191, 2840, Anth. Pal. 9.47. 43 

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As part of the response to Athens’ defeats in the Social War and at Chaeronea, the buildings of this period included buildings for military purposes. There were not only new warships, but shipsheds to house them; and a new arsenal for their equipment: these are attributed to the theoric officials in the time of Eubulus, and Lycurgus is given the credit for completing them.47

Fourth-century interest in the sanctuary at Eleusis is attested by fragments of a detailed law about the mysteries, apparently enacted between 367 and 347; and a law of 353/2 about firstfruits which amended an earlier law.56 The telesterion was enlarged by the addition on the south-east side of the Portico of Philon. A first start on that was made in 356/5–353/2,57 but it was abandoned after Delphi was asked in 352/1 to choose between renting out the hiera orgas for cultivation, to raise money for the work, and leaving it uncultivated, and it chose the latter.58 Work on a new plan began perhaps in the 330’s,59 and was completed in the time of Demetrius of Phalerum.60

On the acropolis there was no building in this period. In the agora there were buildings of various kinds. On the west side, south of the Stoa of Zeus, were built temples of Zeus Phratrios and Athena Phratria, and (slightly later) of Apollo Patroos.48 Slightly further south, opposite the Metroum, was the new monument of the eponymous heroes of the ten tribes: this replaced an earlier monument which was located elsewhere, perhaps at the west end of the hellenistic Middle Stoa.49 Additions were made to the buildings in the north-east of the agora which housed lawcourts — but the Square Peristyle, a single larger building which is closer to what the reader of Ath. Pol. on allotment to the lawcourts would expect, was built not in the time of Ath. Pol. but at the end of the fourth or the beginning of the third century.50 In the south-west the SouthWest Fountain House and a water-clock were built, and these used to be dated earlier in the century but are now dated to the third quarter.51

*** It is not, of course, only in connection with Athens that we need to provide buildings with their historical context, and I end with some examples from elsewhere. What we call the Delian League had its headquarters at Delos until the treasury was moved in 454; and it is likely that, as after the move 1/60 of the tribute was given as an offering to Athena in Athens, before it an offering was given to Apollo in Delos.61 A temple of Apollo was built or restored there in the sixth century, perhaps under Athenian auspices when Pisistratus ‘purified’ the sanctuary.62 While Delos was the headquarters of the League, work began on a new, larger temple, farther south; but about the time of the move that work was discontinued, and it was not resumed until after Delos had become independent of Athens in 314.63 The Athenians did, however, build another temple of Apollo, the so-called ‘temple of the Athenians’, between the archaic temple and the unfinished one, in the years between their further purification of the island in 426/5 and 417.64

The date of the third version of the Pnyx has long been disputed between the fourth century and the Hadrianic period, but it now seems agreed that the Roman pottery on the site is intrusive: comparison with walls in Phocis has suggested a date c. 346–338; this rebuilding seems to have been left unfinished, and Camp has suggested that the new theatre was found more convenient for meetings of the assembly.52 The interest of Lycurgus and others in making proper provision for Athenian religion and festivals is well known.53 The stone theatre of Dionysus, below the acropolis to the south-east, seems (as I remarked above) to have been planned in the time of Pericles but not built then because of the Peloponnesian War. The fourth-century work was planned in the time of Eubulus, is known from the honours for Eudemus of Plataea to have been in progress c. 330, and was finished in 320/19.54 Outside the city wall to the east were built the stadium for athletic contests at the Panathenaea, mentioned in the decree for Eudemus and attributed to Lycurgus in other texts, and the gymnasium at the Lyceum.55

*** At Delphi we have contexts for the successive temples of Apollo and for various other buildings.65 Pausanias records a story that the first three temples were of laurel, beeswax and feathers, and bronze respectively, and were followed by one of stone attributed to the legendary heroes Trophonius and Agamedes, which was destroyed by fire in 548/7.66 A series of writers from Herodotus to Philochorus told of the building of the replacement for that, and of the involvement of Athens’ Alcmaeonid family, who did a more expensive job than they had undertaken to do, and the pressure which they were able to put on Sparta to expel the tyrant Hippias.67

Eubulus, Aeschin. 3. Ctesiphon 25; completion by Lycurgus, [Plut.] X Or. 841d cf. decree ap. 852c, and IG ii2 1668, cf. 505.12–17. Ath. Pol. 46.1 mentions equipment and shipsheds as well as ships. 48  E.g. Thompson and Wycherley 1972: 136–140; Camp 2010: 70–73. 49  E.g. Thompson and Wycherley 1972: 38–41; Camp 2010: 66–68. 50  E.g. Townsend 1995: 106–108 (buildings C and D), 108–113 (building E and Square Peristyle). On allotments to the lawcourts see Ath. Pol. 63–66. 51  E.g. Thompson and Wycherley 1972: 200–202 (early to mid C4); Camp2010: 173–174 (third quarter to late C4). 52  C. 346–338, Rotroff and Camp 1996.. Planned perhaps in the mid 340’s, but the work done in the 330’s, cf. Aeschin. 1. Timarchus 81–84 with Fisher 2001: 217–218. Theatre more convenient, Camp 1996. 53  See, for instance, Parker 1996: 242–255. 54  See Papastamati-von Moock 2014. 55  Both, [Plut.] X Or. 841d cf. decree ap. 852c / IG ii2 457.b.7–8. On the stadium see Travlos 1971: 498–504 (previously these contests were held in the agora: Travlos 1971: 2–3); on the Lyceum, for the palaistra of 841d see Travlos 1971: 345, and for the recently-discovered site see Blackman 1996/7: 8–10. 47 

Agora xvi 56 = I. Eleusis 138; IG ii2 140 = I. Eleusis 142; Agora xvi 57 is perhaps related to though not part of 56. 57  IG ii2 1666 = I. Eleusis 143. Clinton dates 354/3 IG ii2 1682 = I. Eleusis 141, the contract for a stoa. 58  I. Eleusis 144 = IG ii3 292, Androtion FGrH 324 F 30, Philoch. 328 F 155. 59  IG ii2 1670/1/2/3/5 = I. Eleusis 152, 151, 177, 159, 157, with Clinton 1971: 83–113, re-editing 1673 = 159 and discussing the project. For other work in progress in 329/8 see IG ii2 1672 = 177.23–4, 290. 60  Vitruv. 7.praef.17, IG ii2 1680 = I. Eleusis 165. 61  Athens, IG i3 259.1–4; Delos, e.g. Meiggs 1972: 237. 62  E.g. Courby 1931: 218; Dinsmoor 1950: 133. 63  E.g. Courby 1931 104–105, 219–220; Dinsmoor 1950: 184, 221. 64  E.g. Courby 1931: 220–225; Dinsmoor 1950: 183–184; date of dedication established by records of crowns. Purification, Thuc. 3.104; Nicias’ architheoria in 417, Plut. Nic. 3.5–4.1. 65  On the ‘spatial politics’ of Delphi see especially Scott 2010: 41–145. 66  Paus. 10.5.9–13. 67  Hdt. 5.62.2–63.1, Isoc. 15. Antid. 232, Dem. 21. Midias 144 with schol., 56 

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The development of that story was analysed by Forrest, who showed that the original version had the work done wholly or largely before 511/0, and the Alcmaeonids able to invoke the gratitude of Delphi rather than to spend on mercenaries money which they had collected for the work.68

treasury, at the bend in the Sacred Way, was said by Pausanias to have been built from spoils taken at the battle of Marathon. A base below the treasury, with an inscription mentioning Marathon, has been thought to be a later addition, and archaeologists have often though not always dated the treasury before Marathon; but recent work indicates that the addition of the base was envisaged from the beginning, and that the date after Marathon for the treasury must therefore be correct.78 The Stoa of the Athenians, immediately below the platform on which the temple was built, has an inscription referring to hopla and akroteria captured from ‘the enemy’. Pausanias associated this with a campaign of 429, but it is agreed that the lettering is much earlier than that: campaigns which have been suggested are that against the Boeotians and Chalcidians c. 506, the war against Aegina between c. 505 and 481, and the battle of Salamis in 480. Amandry suggested that the hopla and akroteria were from Xerxes’ bridge of boats across the Hellespont, and I find that attractive. However, more recently Walsh has argued that the Stoa belongs neither to the beginning of the century nor to the 420’s but to the First Peloponnesian War, in the 450’s; and Hansen, that it was built c. 475–470 to commemorate various wars.79

That temple in turn was destroyed by fire and / or earthquake in 373/2, and its replacement was caught up in inter-state politics.69 In 371 before the battle of Leuctra Xenophon reports that one Spartan thought that Cleombrotus ought to attend to that rather than oppose the Thebans; in 368 the temple was one of the matters raised with Athens by Dionysius I of Syracuse.70 In fact the Amphictyony began collecting funds for the rebuilding in 367/6: a ‘first obol’ from spring 366 to spring 361 (notionally a levy of 1 obol per person from the Amphictyonic states, though some states paid round sums and there were voluntary contributions from some nonAmphictyonic states and individuals), and a ‘second obol’ from spring 361 to autumn 356.71 But this was a time when Delphi became politicised: in 363/2 some Delphian aristocrats were expelled and took refuge in Athens, and Athens denied the legality of their expulsion; perhaps in 360/59, Thebes was granted promanteia; and in the 350’s fines imposed by the Amphictyony on Thebes’ enemies Phocis and Sparta led to the Third Sacred War of 356–346.72 The expelled aristocrats returned to Delphi, and one of them, Aristoxenus, was archon in 356/5. The naopoioi, responsible for the building, did not meet in 355 or 354; wartime naopoioi from states on the Phocian side met from spring 353 to spring 351, and deposited their funds with the city of Delphi; then there were no more meetings until 345. The major work was completed in 334, and the statues were placed in the pediments in 327/6.73

At the beginning of the Sacred Way was not a building but a statue group, said by Pausanias to have been funded from the spoils at Marathon but to be the work of Pheidias, in the third quarter of the century.80 Immediately before that the Spartan Lysander placed his ‘navarchs monument’ commemorating his victory in the Peloponnesian War, in the foreground of which Lysander himself was crowned by Poseidon.81 The ‘serpent column’ commemorating the Greeks’ victory over the Persians in 480–479, now in Istanbul, was placed east of the temple where the Sacred Way turns north: we are told that this originally bore a boastful couplet (of which there is no trace on the surviving serpents) in which the Spartan commander Pausanias claimed the victory for himself, and that the couplet was erased and replaced by the list of participating states which does survive.82

Various states built treasuries and set up dedications at Delphi, and for these too the historical context is important. I mention simply some of the most significant instances. The Corinthian treasury was built before the Corinthians lost their influence at Delphi at the beginning of the sixth century,74 and the Sicyonian tholos and monopteros after Sicyon had supplanted Corinth there;75 some of the offerings made by Croesus of Lydia in the middle of the sixth century were placed in the Corinthian treasury;76 and the Sicyonian buildings (perhaps discredited by association with the tyranny) were replaced by a new treasury in the late sixth century.77

To return to buildings, one other treasury was that of the Thebans (emphatically the Thebans, not the Boeotians), added on a high bastion at the south-west entrance to the sanctuary, as the Spartan navarchs monument was at the south-east entrance:83 according to Pausanias this was built after the Theban victory over Sparta at Leuctra in 371 (and therefore in the period when, as we have seen, Thebes was

There were several Athenian buildings and monuments at Delphi. In probable chronological order, the Athenian

Paus. 10.11.5. Scott 2010: 77–81. Inscription on base, F. Delphes iii. ii. 1 = M&L 19. Treasury before 490, e.g. Dinsmoor 1950: 117; Mee & Spawforth 2001: 305; after 490, e.g. la Coste-Messelière 1957: esp. 259– 267; Bousquet 1970: 341. Base envisaged from beginning so treasury must be after 490, Amandry 1998; Neer 2004: 67. 79  Paus. 10.11.6. Scott 2010: 96. Inscription, F. Delphes ii, La Colonne des Naxiens et le Portique des Athéniens, p. 39 = M&L 25. Xerxes’ bridge of boats, Amandry 1953: 91–121; doubts expresssed by M&L; Amandry replied in 1978: 582–6. 450’s, Walsh 1986; c. 475–470, Hansen 1989. 80  Paus. 10.10.1. Scott 2010: 97 (dating c. 460). 81  Paus. 10.9.7–11, F. Delphes iii. i, pp. 24–41 nos. 50–69 (inscriptions M&L 95), cf. Plut. Lys. 18.1. Scott, 105–107. Location implied by Pausanias defended by Roux in Pouilloux and Roux 1963: 16–36, 51–55. 82  Thuc. 1.132.2–3, [Dem.] 59. Neaera 96–98, cf. Plut. De Her. Mal. 873c; the surviving inscription, SIG3 31 = M&L 27. Scott 2010: 85–86. On the two versions of the story see Fornara 1967: 291–294; Trevett 1990: 409–411. 83  Scott 2010: 114–115, cf. 2016: 100–111 with 192–195 (accepting Pausanias’ date). 78 

Ath. Pol. 19.4 (cf. schol. Ar. Lys. 1150), Philoch. FGrH 328 F 115; principal texts collected in Jacoby’s commentary on Philochorus. Scott, 2010: 56–59. 68  Forrest 1969. Amasis of Egypt, who died in 526, made a contribution to the funds: Hdt. 2.180. 69  Marm. Par. FGrH 239 A 71. Scott 2010: 118–120. 70  371, Xen. Hell. 6.4.2; 368, R&O 33 = IG ii2 103.8–10. 71  C. Delphes ii. 1–10. 72  Delphian aristocrats, IG ii2 109 = SIG3 175; Theban promanteia, SIG3 176; Amphictyonic fines, e.g. Diod. Sic. 16.23.2–3. 73  C. Delphes ii. 31–97. 74  Attributed to the tyrant Cypselus, Plut. De Pyth. Or. 400d–f. Scott 2010: 41–45. 75  Scott 2010: 53–55. Corinth and Sicyon, Forrest 1956 (attacks on the historicity of the war, by Robertson 1978 and others have not convinced me that there is no truth at all behind the stories). 76  Hdt. 1.51.3. 77  Scott 2010: 37–38, 62.

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taking a particular interest in Delphi); if Diodorus’ mention of a ‘temple’ built from spoils in the Third Sacred War of 356–346 refers to this treasury, that is less likely to be correct, since Thebes though on the winning side was exhausted.84

*** In general, if we are to understand the significance of buildings we need to know the historical context to which they belong. Sometimes that context is clear; but all too often, as my examples have shown, it is not. In this matter, as in every aspect of our studying Greek history from patchy evidence, we have to strike a balance: to make the best we can of the evidence which we have, but not to make too much of it, or to claim that we have certainty when we have not.

*** I end with the three royal tombs at Vergina, the old Macedonian capital of Aegeae, discovered by M. Andronicos in 1977–8. The identification of Aegeae at Vergina, south-west of Pella, rather than at Edessa, west of Pella, was established by Hammond.85 The tombs are all of the mid to late fourth century, but the precise dating, and the identity of the people buried in them, have attracted great excitement. Two main lines of interpretation have emerged: the first is that tomb 1 contained Amyntas III (died 370/69) with a woman and children including a new-born baby, tomb 2 contained Philip II (died aged 46 in 336) and his last wife, Cleopatra, and tomb 3 contained Alexander IV (died aged 13 in 310); the second is that tomb 1 held Philip, Cleopatra and their child, tomb 2 held Philip III Arrhidaeus (died aged 41 in 317) and his wife Eurydice, and as above tomb 3 contained Alexander IV.86 On tomb 3 there is agreement; and in tomb 1, raided in antiquity, little survived apart from the bones. Attention has therefore been focused on tomb 2: Philip II, who died in 336, or Arrhidaeus, who died in 317? In favour of Philip II have been claimed the man’s skull, with an injury to the right eye consistent with the injury which Philip is known to have suffered during his siege of Methone in 355/4,87 and the likelihood that a man given such a lavish burial would be a king such as Philip. In favour of Arrhidaeus is the claim that, although archaeologically there cannot be a great difference between a grave of 336 and a grave of 317, stylistic features and some of the grave goods point to the later date, while recently it has been maintained that a damaged knee among the bones in tomb 1 reflects a leg injury such as that suffered by Philip in 339 (though in fact the texts point to an injury not to the knee but to the thigh).88 The most recent study of the remains in tomb 2 supports the identification of Philip (but claims that the only attested injury of which there is skeletal evidence is to his hand), but argues that the woman was aged 30 or slightly over, was a horse-rider with an injured leg, and therefore cannot be either Cleopatra or Eurydice but is likely to be the daughter of the Scythian king Atheas.89 I still incline to the view that Philip was buried in tomb 2, but I fear this is a question on which people can persuade themselves that what they want to believe is the truth (and that no doubt applies to me as well as to others).

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Paus. 10.11.5; Diod. Sic. 17.10.5. Hammond 1972: 156–158. 86  Tomb 2 Philip, e.g. Andronicos 1984: 226–231; 1 Amyntas, 2 Philip, 3 Alexander IV, Hammond 1982; 1 Philip, 2 Arrhidaeus, 3 Alexander IV, e.g. Borza 1990: 256–266. 87  Dem. 18. De Cor. 67, Didymus, In Dem. 12.43–64 (Theopomp. FGrH 115 F 52, Marsyas 135–6 F 16, Duris 76 F 36: right eye), Diod. Sic. 16.34.5, etc. See Prag et al. 1984. 88  Dem. 18.De Cor. 67 with schol. (124 Dilts), Ath. 6.248f (leg), cf. Plut. Quaest. Conv. 9.739b (uncertain which leg was lame); Didymus, In Dem. 13.3–7 (Duris FGrH 76 F 36, Marsyas 135–6 F 17), Plut. De Alex. Fort. 1.331b, Just. Epit. 9.3.2 (thigh); Sen. Controv. 10.5.6 (lower leg). See Bartsiokas et al. 2015. 89  Antikas and Wynn-Antikas 2016 (for which I thank Prof. O. Palagia). Philip’s four injuries, including hand, Dem. 18. De Cor. 67; Atheas, Just. Epit. 9.2. 84  85 

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Dinsmoor, W. B. 1947. The Hekatompedon on the Athenian Akropolis. In AJA n.s. 51: 109–151. Dinsmoor, W. B. 1950. The Architecture of Ancient Greece. London: Batsford. Dörpfeld, W. 1892. Das ältere Parthenon. In AM 17: 158–189. Dörpfeld, W. 1902. Die Zeit des ältere Parthenon. In AM 27: 379–416. Faraguna, M. 1992. Atene nell’età di Alessandro.MAL 9th series 2: 165–447. Fisher, N. R. E. 2001. Aeschines, Against Timarchos.Oxford: Oxford University Press. Fornara, C. W. 1967. Two Notes on Thucydides. In Philologus 111: 291–295. Forrest, W. G. 1956. The First Sacred War. In BCH 80: 33–52. Forrest, W. G. 1969. The Tradition about Hippias’ Expulsion from Athens. In GRBS 10: 277–286. Habicht, C. 1961. Falsche Urkunden zur Geschichte Athens im Zeitalter der Perserkriege. In Hermes 89: 1–35. Hammond, N. G. L. 1972. A History of Macedonia, i. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Hammond, N. G. L. 1982. The Evidence for the Identity of the Royal Tombs at Vergina. In W. L. Adams and E. L. Borza (ed.) Philip II, Alexander the Great and the Macedonian Heritage: 111–127. Washington, D.C.: University Press of America. Hansen, O. 1989. Epigraphica Bellica: On the Dedication of the Athenian Portico at Delphi. In C&M 40: 133–134. Hintzen-Bohlen, B. 1997. Die Kulturpolitik des Eubulos und des Lykurg. Berlin: Akademie Verlag. Hurwit, J. M. 1999. The Athenian Acropolis. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kallet, L. 1989. Did Tribute Fund the Parthenon? In Cl. Ant. 8: 252–266. la Coste-Messelière, P. de 1957. Fouilles de Delphes, iv. 4. Sculptures du Trésor des Athéniens. Paris: De Boccard. Mee, C. B., and A. J. S. Spawforth 2001. Greece: An Oxford Archaeological Guide.(Oxford: Oxford University Press. Meiggs, R. 1972. The Athenian Empire. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Meritt, B. D., H. T. Wade-Gery and M. F. McGregor 1939– 1953. The Athenian Tribute Lists. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press – Princeton: American School of Classical Studies at Athens. Migeotte, L. 2014. Les Finances des cités grecques. Paris: Les Belles Lettres. Miller, M. C. 1997. Athens and Persia in the Fifth Century b.c. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Miller, S. G. 1995. Old Metroon and Old Bouleuterion in the Classical Agora of Athens. In M. H. Hansen and K. Raaflaub (ed.), Studies in the Ancient Greek Polis (C.P.C. Papers ii. Historia Einzelschriften xcv): 133–156. Stuttgart: Steiner. Moysey, R. A. 1981. The Thirty and the Pnyx. In AJA n.s. 85: 31–37. Neer, R. T. 2004. The Athenian Treasury at Delphi and the Material of Politics. In Cl. Ant. 23: 63–93. Palagia, O. 2013. Not from the Spoils of Marathon: Pheidias’ Bronze Athena on the Acropolis. In K. Buraselis and E. Koulakiotis (ed), Marathon: The Day After: 117–137. Athens: European Cultural Centre of Delphi. Papastamati-von Moock, C. 2014. The Theatre of Dionysus in Athens: New Data and Observations on its ‘Lycurgan’ Phase. In E. Csapo, H. R. Goette, J. R. Green and P. Wilson

Greek Theatre in the Fourth Century b.c.: 15–76. Berlin: de Gruyter. Parker, R. C. T. 1996. Athenian Religion: A History. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Pouilloux, J., and G. Roux 1963. Énigmes à Delphes. Paris: De Boccard for Lyon: Institut Fernand-Courby. Prag, A. J. N. W., J. H. Musgrave and R. A. H. Neave 1984. The Skull from Tomb II at Vergina: King Philip II of Macedon. In JHS 104: 60–78. Raaflaub K. A., J. Ober and R. W. Wallace 2007. Origins of Democracy in Ancient Greece. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. Rhodes, P. J. 1972. The Athenian Boule, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Rhodes, P. J. 1981. A Commentary on the Aristotelian Athenaion Politeia. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Rhodes, P. J. 2010. A History of the Classical Greek World, 478 – 323 b.c., 2nd edition. Chichester: Wiley– Blackwell. Rhodes, P. J. 2015a. The Date of the ‘Financial Decrees of Callias’ (IG i3 52)’. In A. P. Matthaiou and N. Papazarkadas (ed.) ἄξων: Studies in Honor of Ronald S. Stroud: i. 39–47. Athens: Greek Epigraphic Society. Rhodes, P. J. 2015b. Directions in the Study of Athenian Democracy. In SCI 34: 49–68. Robertson, N. D. 1978. The Myth of the First Sacred War. In CQ n.s. 28: 38–73. Rotroff, S. I., and J. McK. Camp, II 1996. The Date of the Third Period of the Pnyx. In Hesperia 65: 263–294. Scott, M. C. 2010. Delphi and Olympia: The Spatial Politics of Panhellenism in the Archaic and Classical Period. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Scott, M. C. 2016. The Performance of Boiotian Identity at Delphi. In S. D. Gartland (ed.), Boiotia in the Fourth Century b.c.: 99–120 with 192–198. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Shear, J. L. 2011. Polis and Revolution: Responding to Oligarchy in Classical Athens. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Shear, T. L., Jr. 1978. Tyrants and Buildings in Archaic Athens. In [editors not stated] Athens Comes of Age: 5–7. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Shear, T. L., Jr. 1995. Bouleuterion, Metroon and the Archives at Athens. In M. H. Hansen and K. Raaflaub (ed.), Studies in the Ancient Greek Polis (C.P.C. Papers ii. Historia Einzelschriften xcv): 157–190. Stuttgart: Steiner. Shear, T. L., Jr. 2016. Trophies of Victory: Public Building in Periklean Athens. Princeton University Press for Princeton University Department of Art and Archaeology. Stroud, R. S. 2006. The Athenian Empire on Stone. Athens: Greek Epigraphic Society. Thompson, H. A. 1940. The Tholos of Athens and Its Predecessors (Hesperia Supplement 4). Baltimore: American School of Classical Studies at Athens. Thompson, H. A. 1962. The Athenian Agora: A Guide to the Excavation and Museum, 2nd edition. Athens: American School of Classical Studies at Athens. Thompson, H. A. and R. E. Wycherley 1972. The Athenian Agora, xiv. The Agora of Athens. Princeton: American School of Classical Studies at Athens. Townsend, R. F. 1995. The Square Peristyle and Its Predecessors. In A. L. Boegehold et al., The Athenian

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Agora, xxviii. The Lawcourts at Athens: 104–113. Princeton: American School of Classical Studies at Athens. Tracy, S. V. 2016. Athenian Lettering of the Fifth Century b.c. Berlin: de Gruyter. Travlos, J. 1971. Pictorial Dictionary of Ancient Athens. London: Thames and Hudson for German Archaeological Institute.

Trevett, J. 1990. History in [Demosthenes] 59. In CQ n.s. 40: 407–420. Walsh, J. 1986. The Date of the Athenian Stoa at Delphi. In AJA n.s. 90: 319–336. Whitley, A. J. M. 2001. The Archeology of Ancient Greece. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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John Boardman at 90: ‘New’ Archaeology or ‘Old’? Confessions of a Crypto-Archaeologist1 Paul Cartledge2 It1is2the thesis of this paper that, while textual and archaeological evidence each have their strengths and weaknesses and each when combined can complicate the interpretation of the other, our understanding of any given time and place in the ancient Greek world is distinctly deeper and more nuanced when the two are brought into dialogue with each other. Yet ancient Greek history and classical archaeology have run, most of the time, on largely parallel tracks: what can and should be done to get them to cross more often? In what follows, thanks mainly to the originating context of this essay, I adopt, with all due apologies, a partly autobiographical approach.

My doctoral thesis, ‘Early Sparta c. 950-650 BC: an archaeological and historical study’, was delayed in its completion by teaching commitments successively in Oxford, Coleraine (New University of Ulster) and Dublin (Trinity College); it was eventually submitted in 1975 and co-examined by George Forrest (later to serve as Oxford’s Wykeham Professor of ancient Greek history) and Martin Robertson (the then Lincoln Professor of Classical Archaeology). A much revised and augmented version was published in 1979 by Routledge & Kegan Paul (as the house then was configured) in Professor Ron Willetts’s ‘States and Cities of Ancient Greece’ series: Sparta & Lakonia. A Regional History 1300-362 BC. I had earned my spurs as what John liked to call a ‘cryptoarchaeologist’. 1979 was also the year that I started teaching at John’s original university alma mater. I remained in post at Cambridge until 2014, when I retired as the inaugural A.G. Leventis Professor of Greek Culture.

Autobiography I first met John Boardman in 1969, during my final year as an undergraduate member of New College, Oxford, reading Literae Humaniores (‘Greats’). Memory can play false, but my firm recollection – and it sorts with the fact that John has never been one to waste time over small talk - is that almost his first word to me was ‘Sparta’. We agreed that, if all went well with my Finals, I should embark under his supervision on an archaeological-historical doctoral thesis on that important ancient Greek polis, for in so doing I would be following in the admired wake of my good friend John Salmon, author (later) of the unsuperseded Wealthy Corinth (O.U.P, 1984), and more distantly, that of John’s very first Oxford doctoral pupil, Anthony Snodgrass (of whom, more below).

My strictly archaeological manifestations have been few. In 1986 I deputised for an indisposed Robert Cook (Laurence Professor of Classical Archaeology emeritus at Cambridge, and a former teacher of John’s) at the Centenary celebrations of the British School at Athens – my invocation of ‘Yannis Pinakanthropos’ (a bastardized Greek version of ‘John Boardman’) raised quite a laugh. 2000 saw the publication of one of the several Festschriften by which John has been honoured over the years: it is in Periplous that my one and only strictly ‘archaeological’ publication appeared, of a late Archaic, inscribed bronze figurine of a ram (now in Cambridge University’s Fitzwilliam Museum). Since early 2017 I have been Honorary Keeper in the Antiquities Department of that great Museum, thanks partly to another former doctoral student of John’s, and its former Keeper, Dr Lucilla Burn.

This was the historical-archaeologist John Boardman of The Greeks Overseas (1st edn, 1964; the 2nd edn was published in 1973, when I was halfway through my DPhil research), the excavator of Emborio on Chios and Tocra (ancient Greek Taucheira) on the coast of Libya, and not the art-historical John Boardman of, say, Greek Gems and Finger-Rings (Thames & Hudson, 1970). The Greeks Overseas (now in its 4th edition, 1999) and his essay Preclassical (1967) remain my favourite two books of John’s: I think I have read almost all of them, including some not as yet published. It was also while I was a doctoral student of his – and not before - that I first attended John’s undergraduate art-historical lectures. Those on Archaic sculpture are, I think, some of the best lectures I have ever attended, pedagogically speaking, on any subject; a good flavour of them is happily preserved in one of his invaluable series of massively illustrated handbooks, Greek Sculpture: the Archaic Period (Thames & Hudson, 1978).

John and I disagree strongly on only a few things – among them the proper home of the so-called ‘Elgin Marbles’ in the British Museum, and the ‘hellenicity’ of Alexander the Great (I borrow the term from an excellent book of that title by Jonathan Hall, a former doctoral student of Snodgrass, whose outstanding PhD thesis I co-examined) – but in the grand scheme of things these are relatively trivial. What matters is that I would not have had much of a career but for ‘Uncle John’; indeed I owe him almost everything, so far as my career is concerned. And my debt is unrepayable - no matter how long he (or I) lives. The present essay, though prompted by admiration, will do little or nothing to even up the ledger. Great Divides? Rival (Mainly Cambridge) Genealogies

This essay is a considerable expansion of my brief remarks delivered at the Gulbenkian Foundation in Lisbon under the title ‘Greek History and Archaeology’ on May 4th 2017. Huge thanks to our organisers for their generous invitation, intellectually productive initiative and magnificent hospitality. Thanks too to Paul Christesen for his critical comments and support. 2  [email protected], Clare College, Cambridge 1

There have been several notorious Cambridge intellectual standoffs over the years: e.g., C.P. Snow versus F.R. Leavis (the ‘two cultures’ debate), and Colin McCabe versus Christopher Ricks (the ‘old’ English criticism and the ‘new’), and that’s just within the university’s English Faculty. Within History,

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one could cite the vigorous riposte to poststructuralist/ postmodernist historiography by (Sir) Geoffrey Elton (son of classical historian Victor Ehrenberg), or Richard Evans’s considerably more temperate and measured response, In Defence of History - in defence, that is, of how he understands and practises ‘history’.

I tried to capture and to moderate some of this argument in a think-piece I was invited to write for the Times Literary Supplement: ‘A new classical archaeology?’ TLS, 12 September 1986: 1011-12. But I was rather uncomfortably aware that the fallout from that dispute was not merely academic, but might also take on a personal dimension. As in the case of the contemporary 1970s/1980s quarrel between my undergraduate ancient history tutor at New College Oxford (G.E.M. de Ste. Croix) and the incumbent of the Cambridge Ancient History chair (Moses Finley) – a dispute over methodology as well as ideology – I strove to achieve some sort of reconciliation between my former doctoral supervisor and his most distinguished former doctoral pupil (Snodgrass).

Both ‘archaeology’ and ‘history’ need, of course, to be examined critically, that is both conceptually and pragmatically. As a self-defined historian, I begin with ‘History’. In David Cannadine’s 2001 collection What Is History Now?, riffing on E.H. Carr’s Cambridge Trevelyan lectures published as What Is History?, I made an attempt at situating ‘social’ history in a broad intellectual and disciplinary context, commenting that for most purposes ‘social’ had by then ceded pride of place to ‘cultural’ history - a development I wasn’t myself at all averse to, as the title I chose for my Cambridge Leventis chair in 2008 (the A.G. Leventis Professorship of Greek Culture) bears witness. This year of 2017, according to the Western calendar, is perhaps the ‘father of History’ Herodotus’s 2500th birthday – and I’m going to be celebrating him in various milieux, precisely as a historian of culture and indeed cultures. What one understands by ‘history’ is of course key to the topic of this essay. Herodotus’s inclusivity and broadmindedness offer substantial clues and a model to follow, as I have tried to show for example in my recent introduction to a new translation of the Histories, by Tom Holland. To take another ad hominem example, ancient Greek democracy – or rather, democracy in ancient Greece – was essentially a matter of culture and society and not just of political institutions and ideology.

Probably without achieving any major success, to be honest, although Anthony and I did both appear in the Festschrift for (by now Sir John) Boardman that Anthony co-edited (with John Prag and Gocha Tsetskhladze): PERIPLOUS. Papers on Classical Art and Archaeology presented to Sir John Boardman (Thames & Hudson, 2000). In any case, anything I might have said on the conceptual-theoretical side was almost immediately overtaken by Anthony’s An Archaeology of Greece: the Present State and Future Scope of a Discipline (University of California Press, 1987), the book of his Sather Lectures at Berkeley. This major volume, together with the five essays collected in Part I (‘Credo’) of his Archaeology and the Emergence of Greece (Edinburgh University Press, 2006), constitute his most major contributions towards reorienting the theoretical approach to and constructions of Classical Archaeology. The effects of his research and teaching may be sampled most satisfactorily in the careers of those above-mentioned former Cambridge doctoral pupils of his, who between them have transformed utterly what the term ‘Classical Archaeology’ can imply and instantiate. But there may still be something useful to add.

Archaeology too, outside as well as inside Cambridge, has had its ‘great divides’ – part-methodological, part-ideological, and in good (or bad) part no doubt purely personal; and the late 1950s-1980s saw a particularly fierce, almost binary division and opposition within Classical Archaeology between (so to say) the old-style qualitative connoisseurship wallahs and the brand-new, thrusting, quantitative fieldsurvey johnnies: the former concerned principally with matters of style, typology and taste, the latter interested not so much or at all in the aesthetics of style let alone in treasure-hunting or even in event-oriented archaeology, but rather in the earthy factors and vectors of quantitative/ serial material production and long-term everyday styles of living by whole communities or at least by the majority of ‘ordinary’ people, including both the relatively empowered poor citizenry and the dispossessed unfree.

Archaeologies old and new Besides the conventional understanding of the term as both a practical and a theoretical engagement with the material, non-verbal remains of the past, there is an alternative mode of understanding or reconfiguring ‘Archaeology’ by way of what has come to be called ‘reception’ studies, itself an increasingly potent sub-field within Classical and Ancient Greek studies more generally. The aim of this metagenre is to throw light on how and why archaeologists did and do what they did and do, how their work has been and is received and above all how it has been and is used – and abused – politically. Hence, for instance, the just published collection that I have co-edited (with Sofia Voutsaki, formerly of Athens and Cambridge now of Groningen) entitled Ancient Monuments and Modern Identities: Archaeology’s contribution to the creation of ethnic, national and social identities in19th and 20th century Greece. This volume is based on a conference held actually in Cambridge. Its contents include ‘Archaeology and Politics: the Greek-German Olympia excavations treaty, 18691875’ by Thanassis Bohotis, and ‘The Hellenization of the prehistoric past: the search for Greek identity in the work of Christos Tsountas’, by Sofia Voutsaki. For a specific instance of the interpretation, uses, and appropriation of a particular – ‘Minoan’ – archaeological past, one might compare Yannis Hamilakis’s and Nicoletta Momigliano’s 2006 collection, Archaeology and European Modernity (reviewed by John Cherry, BMCR 2007.07.36). As the Italian philosopher Benedetto Croce

No doubt the dichotomy as posed above is too crude, polarised and binary, but very broadly speaking one might distinguish between, on the one hand or side, Classical Archaeology as Connoisseurship and, on the other, Classical Archaeology as – as it were – historicised Prehistoric Archaeology. For the former one might invoke for instance the work of Donna Kurtz, Lucilla Burn, and Olga Palagia (doctoral pupils of John Boardman) and Nigel Spivey (a pupil of Robert Cook). For the latter, there is a genealogy traceable back to David L. Clarke (Analytical Archaeology, 1968) and Colin Renfrew (The Emergence of Greek Civilisation, 1972) via Snodgrass (as above) to John Cherry (pupil of Renfrew), Paul Halstead, Robin Osborne, Ian Morris, James Whitley, Jonathan Hall, and Susan Alcock (pupils of Snodgrass).

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Ways Forward?

once said, all history is contemporary history – and perhaps that is as true of much archaeology as well.

I take my rather cautious lead from a sort of ‘Cambridge’ view put forward in 1971 by Moses Finley, then the Professor of Ancient History at Cambridge, ‘Archaeology and History’, first published in Daedalus and republished in his methodological collection The Use and Abuse of History (1975, 1986). Several scholars, especially archaeologists, have taken strong issue with this paper, both on the grounds that Finley himself was not at all familiar with actual archaeological data and because they believe one can and should do an awful lot more, historiographically speaking, with material remains than Finley himself believed possible or perhaps considered desirable. I share those reservations about Finley’s essay, but I myself also share some of Finley’s deepest reservations about the potential utility for properly historical analysis and explanation of ‘mute’, non-textual data: in particular the reservation that – quite apart from the hazards of their survival and retrieval – purely material data cannot and do not in and of themselves straightforwardly reveal or correspond one-to-one with the structures of political and social power that ultimately produced them. Moreover, they can – and in the case of my own research area of early-historical Sparta they do - throw up new problems either independently of any written evidence or because they complicate interpretation of the admittedly defective written sources, in spades, if you’ll pardon the pun.

Archaeology also embraces Art History. Within that field I choose for selective mention just three, recent illustrations, each chosen because their respective author’s concerns range far beyond aesthetics and style into social, economic and especially political history. Vincent Azoulay, already well known for his wide-ranging research on Xenophon and his acute dissection of the reputation of Pericles in antiquity and down to the present day, published in 2015 a study of Les Tyrannicides, that is the statuary representations in bronze and other media of the two Athenians who were hailed, indeed worshipped as ‘tyrant-slayers’ for having killed Hipparchus the younger brother of Hippias in about 514 BC. In fact (if it is a fact), Hipparchus was not the tyrant ruler of Athens – that, according to the disabused Thucydides, was Hippias. But the fledgling Athenian democracy quite anachronistically fastened upon the killing of Hipparchus as the originary, founding moment and action of freedom and democracy for Athens, and Persian emperor Xerxes knew exactly what damage he was doing to Athenian democratic amour-propre when in 480 he had the original bronze pair of statues, the first such representations of purely human beings to be erected officially in the Athenian Agora, removed and transported dishonorifically to his capital city of Susa. This is a tale with the deepest resonances – for Greek and Athenian religious ideas of heroisation, of iconography, and of cultural politics, above all. Azoulay tells it with great aplomb, and I was honoured to be invited to contribute a foreword to the English translation published by the Oxford University Press, New York (2017).

I come therefore finally to ‘Archaeohistory’, as that term is currently defined in the ‘Oxford History of the Archaic Greek World’ (O.U.P., New York), a large-scale project of which Professor Paul Christesen (Dartmouth College, USA) and I are the co-directors. When it is finished, the OHAGW will consist of 30 or so essay-studies of the different poleis, regions and sanctuary sites of Archaic Hellas or the world of the Hellenes (from the pillars of Herakles to Phasis, according to one ancient definition) between c. 800 and 450 BCE. Each study will be about 35,000 words, with the exception of the two lead studies of Athens and Sparta respectively. Those will be considerably longer (double or more). Robin Osborne is writing the study of Archaic Athens , Paul Christesen and I that of Archaic Sparta and Laconia (and we are also editing all of the other studies).

My second illustration is Rachel Kousser’s The Afterlives of Greek Sculpture. Interaction, Transformation, and Destruction (Cambridge U.P., 2017), chosen partly also because its rich and complex subject-matter embraces the so-called ‘Tyrannicides’. Alain Schnapp once asked why the Greeks needed images; that question has a particular application to their massive production and consumption of statuary, especially at a large – lifesize or overlifesize – scale. (I leave aside the equally formidable production of statuettes, commonly referred to as figurines, whether in ivory, bone, lead, bronze or most abundantly of all terracotta.) Kousser makes a good stab at answering it. Developing ideas first broached in her Hellenistic and Roman Ideal Sculpture: the Allure of the Classical (C.U.P., 2008), she not only sets the destruction of statues (a highly topical subject in the real world of politics right now) within its broader cultural contexts but also illuminates the vexed issue of the creation of a Hellenic cultural identity.

In an earlier version of our project’s overall prospectus we informed potential contributors that all of the essays would employ a particular methodology that we have chosen to call archaeohistory, as it designates explicitly a distinctive methodological approach that takes archaeology and history to be symbiotic disciplines. The nature of the evidence for the ancient Greek world is such that Classicists have long been unusually open to approaches that combine archaeology and history, although the nature of the written evidence for Archaic Hellas does pose special challenges. OHAGW, we continued, will build upon the established tradition of combining archaeological and historical approaches, and our hope is that it will facilitate further work along the same lines by making it easier to access detailed explorations and careful interpretations of the archaeological and textual evidence for a range of different sites and regions. We have chosen the term ‘archaeohistory’ to describe the approach to be pursued because we feel it better describes our goals than any of the other obvious alternatives, such as ‘historical archaeology’ or ‘crypto-archaeology’. The

Straddling Art History, Archaeology and History, and likewise contributing to our understanding of identity in the ancient Greek world, is my third example: Mireille M. Lee’s Body, Dress and Identity in Ancient Greece (Cambridge, 2015). ‘Ancient’ means here Archaic and Classical, and the social-scientific approach adopted lends itself to cross-fertilisation with other periods and parallel approaches. In summary, by applying modern dress-theory to the ancient evidence, both textual and archaeological, this rich book suggestively and plausibly reconstructs the variety of social meanings attached in ancient Greece to the dressed human body. And the undressed, or nude, body too: the index entry under ‘nudity’ aptly reads ‘See body as dress’.

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combination of terms associated with both disciplines into a single word neatly symbolizes what we hope to achieve: to fuse together archaeology and history if not seamlessly at least compatibly and productively.

Archaeology is here presented and advocated for as not (merely) the handmaid (a ‘Hilfsmittel’) of Ancient History but as its essential and indispensable partner. The first chapter is therefore aptly titled ‘Classical Archaeology: the ‘Handmaid of History’?’ and the final section of the final chapter ‘Bridging the ‘Great Divide’. That is the informing spirit also of the OHAGW.

We strongly encourage contributors to understand archaeological and historical material in broad terms and to include any body of evidence that can provide insight into the Greek world during the Archaic period. For the purposes of this project, archaeology is taken to extend far beyond pottery, and history far beyond the narrative historians of the fifth and fourth centuries BCE. Further reflection has prompted a series of editorial injunctions and recommendations directed to signed-up contributors. In addition to an introduction and conclusion, each essay should include eleven distinct sections: (1) sources, (2) natural setting (description of topography, climate, etc.), (3) material culture (including settlement patterns), (4) political history, (5) legal history, (6) diplomatic history (external relations of all kinds including warfare), (7) economic history, (8) familial/demographic history (including education), (9) social customs and institutions, (10) religious customs and institutions, (11) cultural history.

I trust that our revered nonagenarian honorand, Professor Sir John Boardman, will approve. References Anderson, Maxwell L. 2017 Antiquities. What Everyone Needs to Know. Oxford Azoulay, Vincent 2014 Les tyrannicides d’Athènes: vie et mort de deux statues. Paris (English translation, by Janet Lloyd, OUP/NY, 2017). Bintliff, John and Keith Rutter eds 2016 The Archaeology of Greece and Rome. Studies in honour of Anthony Snodgrass. Edinburgh Cannadine, David ed. 2002 What Is History Now? Basingstoke (pb. 2004) Cartledge, Paul 1986 ‘A new classical archaeology?’ TLS, 12 September 1986: 1011-12 Cartledge, Paul 2000 ‘‘To Poseidon the Driver’: an ArkadoLakonian ram dedication’ in G.R. Tsetskhladze et al. eds. Periplous. Papers on Classical Art and Archaeology presented to Sir John Boardman. London: 60-67 Cartledge, Paul 2002 ‘What is Social History?’ in Cannadine ed. 19-35 Cartledge, Paul 2016 ‘Anthony McElrea Snodgrass: A Personal Appreciation’ in Bintliff & Rutter eds: 442-6 Cartledge, Paul & Sofia Voutsaki eds 2017 Ancient Monuments and Modern Identities: the history of archaeology in 19th- and 20th-century Greece. Abingdon-on-Thames Clarke, David L. 1968 Analytical Archaeology. London Cook, Robert M. 1959 ‘Die Bedeutung der bemalten Keramik’ JdI 74: 114-23 Finley Moses I. 1975/1986 ‘Archaeology and history’, Daedalus (Winter 1971), repr. in The Use and Abuse of History, 2nd edn. London: 87-102 Hall, Jonathan 2004 Hellenicity. Between ethnicity and culture. Chicago Hall, Jonathan 2014 Artifact & Artifice. Classical Archaeology and the Ancient Historian. Chicago Hamilakis, Yannis and Nicoletta Momigliano eds 2006 Archaeology and European Modernity: Producing and Consuming the ‘Minoans’ (Creta Antica 7). Padua Kousser, R. 2017 The Afterlives of Greek Sculpture. Interaction, Transformation, and Destruction. Cambridge Lee, Mireille M. 2015 Body, Dress and Identity in Ancient Greece. Cambridge Renfrew, Colin 1972 The Emergence of Greek Civilisation. London Snodgrass, Anthony M. 1987 An Archaeology of Greece: the Present State and Future Scope of a Discipline. California and London Snodgrass, A.M. 2006 Archaeology and the Emergence of Greece. Edinburgh

We encourage all contributors to include, in the introduction to their essay, an explicit statement about the chronological parameters of the Archaic period for the particular site/region on which they are focusing (along with a brief discussion/justification of those parameters); in the section on (1) sources, a brief history of excavations at the site/region in question and a survey of the relevant literary and epigraphic sources (with, where possible, some estimate of the nature and number of extant, relevant inscriptions); in the section on (3) material culture, a relatively comprehensive (even if brief) survey of the history of ceramics at the site/region in question and a relatively comprehensive (even if brief) survey of burial practices (tomb types, assemblages of grave goods) and how those evolved over time; in the section on (7) economic history (or elsewhere if it fits more naturally somewhere else in the essay), a relatively comprehensive (even if brief) survey of the coinage issued by the site/region in question and a relatively comprehensive (even if brief) survey of the colonies and emporia founded by the site/region in question; in the section of (8) family and demographic history, an attempt to estimate the population of the site in question during the Archaic period or a statement as to why that is not feasible; and in the section on (10) religious customs, a discussion (even if brief) of the cult of the patron deity(ies) of the site(s) in question and a listing of cults attested for that site or those sites in the Archaic period. Conclusion Arguably - at least it has been argued here – much of the best work within the general bounds of ancient Greek history/archaeology has been work that combines archaeology and history. Already, one of our OHAGW prime contributors, Jonathan Hall, has shown us the way forward in his 2014 Artifact & Artifice: Classical Archaeology and the Classical Historian (U. of Chicago Press). Classical

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Some Recent Developments in the Study of Greeks Overseas1 Gocha R. Tsetskhladze2 should lump these people together as Greeks, again because they were not calling themselves that, until some centuries into the process – Ionian colonisation, perhaps.

A1few2years ago, Robert Garland published a book entitled Wandering Greeks.3 Indeed, much of the story of the ancient Greeks in the Archaic and Classical periods and beyond is one of purposeful wandering, long labelled ‘colonising activity’, east, west, north and south,4 creating an oikumene from the Straits of Gibraltar to the eastern edge of the Black Sea (Phaedo 109b). For Greek expansion in the Archaic period – and here I shall limit my comments to that period (the establishment by Athens of 25 colonies, 7 cleruchies and 47 re-colonisations in the Classical period is really the manifestation of Athenian imperialism rather than colonisation in the sense we understand it for earlier periods)5 – it might seem somewhat misleading to use the term ‘colonisation’. We continue to do so for convenience, from familiarity and in the absence of anything better (or more widely acceptable). The debate about the use of ‘colonisation’, and suggestions for some substitute term(s) have become something of an obsession in Anglo-Saxon scholarship. Scholars from elsewhere and those from other traditions seem untroubled (or far less troubled) by these terminology wars (the fine distinctions, it is clear, are more apparent to the modern observer than to ancient contemporaries or, least of all, to the participants). The Greeks did not ‘have a word for it’: they never labelled it ‘colonisation’, which derives from Latin and describes Roman practice(s), or anything else. This, combined with many scholars of antiquity lacking much understanding of modern-era colonisation (perhaps if Frank Johnson, Edward Gibbon Wakefield6 or many others were labelled oikistes it would help?), produces in some a strange state of denial. Nevertheless, it was something that happened: an event or a series of (more-or-less related) events. What other terms might we use to describe migrations of unprecedented scale unparalleled in ancient history? (In this period nearly 150 settlements were established outside Greece in the Mediterranean and the Black Sea.)7 The best I could suggest, ‘overseas settlement’, is unenlightening (and ‘settler’ possibly carries as many unwelcome connotations, and false parallels, from the modern era as colonisation – though we might debate whether either should), but at least it adds no further opacity to matters.8 There is also the question of whether we

The flight to the theoretical means that it is too often difficult, at least for me, to understand what recent writers on Greek colonisation, whatever more exotic label for it they use, are trying to say: terminological pyrotechnics demote clear presentation of the evidence to diminishing subordination. We have some information in Homer (Iliad B, 661-670; Odyssey 6.7-11, 9.116-141, 14.199-234) and in Hesiod (Works and Days 633-640) and Archilochus (fragments 7, 105 and 264) about the movement of people, but, in the case of Homer, it is very difficult to say how realistic rather than poetic this is. Even the term apoikia, which means away from house and home(land), appeared for the first time only in the early 5th century BC, as is also the case for oikistes. Some information can be found in Herodotus (4.150-158, 5.42) and Thucydides (1.24-38), but, once again, these are sources later than the events.9 At this point, let me consider the meaning of emporion. This is very important because many mixed settlements in the colonial world have been given this label or are called trading posts, ports-of-trade, etc.10 The concept and term emporion is found first in Herodotus in connection with Naucratis (2.179). Is an emporion just a place for trade? If it does not produce things, then what is being traded? Emporia are often compared with Singapore and Hong Kong, which were not mere entrepôts, but also, and increasingly, centres that produced goods as well as traded them, valued for their location and for the talents of their inhabitants. If we turn to Etruria, we find a Greek quarter in local cities, for example Gravisca. There were probably no emporia, as Herodotus understood the term, in Mainland or East Greece. But if we look at things from a different angle, every polis was producing and trading, which means that they had trading places, and every polis was, in this sense, also an emporion. The best example that comes to mind is the Greek colony of Dioscurias. Pliny (NH 6.15) tells us that it was also an emporion of the barbarians living nearby and that locals from the distant mountains also came to trade there, and that 130 interpreters were employed to conduct business.

Parts of this paper are revised from Tsetskhladze 2015a. Linacre College, Oxford 3  Garland 2014. 4  In general, see Graham 1982; Tsetskhladze and De Angelis 1994; Boardman 1999a; Karageorghis 2002; Hansen and Nielsen 2004; Tsetskhladze 2006b; 2008; Antonaccio 2007; De Angelis 2009; 2010; D’Ercole 2012; Martinez-Sève 2012; Woolf 2013. 5  Figueira 2008, tables 1-3. 6  In respect of what became Southern Rhodesia and South Australia. 7  For a list of Archaic colonies, see Tsetskhladze 2006a, lxvii-lxxiii; Tsetskhladze and Hargrave 2011: 164-169. 8  For this discussion of the terminology, alternatives to it and attitudes behind it, see Tsetskhladze and Hargrave 2011, with bibliography, and the accompanying responses in Ancient West and East 10 (2011): 183-331. See also Gosden 2004; Malkin 2004; Hurst and 1  2 

The best examples of emporia come from the Black Sea. The settlements of local rulers and chief-men had a designated area where Greeks lived and produced weapons and everyday objects for them. Another clear example of this is Pistiros. What is now being excavated is considered as an emporion when in reality it was the residence of a local king or member Owen 2005; Tsetskhladze 2006a. 9  Casevitz 1985, 73-135; Descœudres 2013, 1-3. See also Hall 2008. 10  On the definition and meaning of emporion, see Hansen 2006; Demetrious 2012.

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of the elite (as the find of a stone chamber-tomb, a sort known from other parts of Thrace as marking a royal or elite burial, strongly suggests). This settlement has Greek-style fortifications, probably built by an architect from Thasos, a paved street and a sewerage channel. If this settlement was Emporion Pistiros, or indeed an emporion at all, it should have been receiving thousands of amphorae, Greek pottery, have a Greek quarter, etc. In fact what we have are hundreds of fragments of Greek pottery, about a thousand pieces of amphorae, mainly un-profiled fragments, and no coins until the time of Lysimachus (when the settlement fell under his control). The Pistiros inscription clearly demonstrates that the Thracian king had invited the Greeks to settle for trading purposes, etc. and had given them autonomy and protection:

years with festivals and revels. For the Geloni are by their origin Greeks, who left their trading ports to settle among the Budini; and they speak a language half Greek and half Scythian. But the Budini speak not the same language as the Geloni, nor is their manner of life the same. Indeed, excavation of the site has brought forth more than 10,000 pieces of Greek pottery. Every single inland settlement in the Pontus and elsewhere has yielded amphorae in large quantity. The majority of scholars consider that these had contained wine and oil and are evidence of direct contacts with the Mediterranean. Is this so or does it reveal a completely different situation? Herodotus tells us that, in Egypt, clay containers carrying wine were emptied at the coast and refilled with water before being transported inland (Herodotus 3.6). Shipwrecks demonstrate that amphorae contained not just oil and wine but fruit, fish and fuel. Chemical analysis of amphorae from the northern Black Sea shows that the residue found in some of them is resin.

(If anyone should swear by) Dionysos and | ... he will owe a due. If any of the | [5] emporitai has a cause to plead against another, | they will be judged each among his own | relatives, and with respect to such things as are owed | by the emporitai at the Thracians, | no cancellation of debts is to be | [10] made. The land and pasture belonging | to the emporitai shall not be taken from them. | The epaulistai shall not be sent to | the emporitai. No garrison | is to be placed at Pistiros, neither by him | [15] nor should (any) be handed over to another. | The kleroi of the inhabitants of Pistiros | are not to be changed nor handed over to another. | Neither shall the possessions of the emporitai be appropriated | by him or by any of his people. | [20] No dues shall be levied on the goods | which are imported to Maroneia | from Pistiros or from the | emporia, or from Maroneia to Pistiros | and to the emporia Belana of the Prasenoi. | [25] The emporitai the wagons | to open and close. At the same time | valid is as in Kotys’ time: | ‘I will not send over any citizen of Maroneia; nor will I | kill him, nor will I let his property be confiscated, | [30] neither during his lifetime nor after his death, | neither I myself nor any of my people. | Nor (will I kill) any of the Apollonians, nor | the Thasians who are at Pistiros, | [35] nor will I (imprison any of them) nor will I deprive any | man of his property, | neither alive nor dead, | neither I myself nor any of my people... | ...(nevertheless, if any) of the dwellers | ... of the empor- | are | if not AM- | ... (but if anyone) should commit a crime (against another) | ...... every year | [45] ....... | ............ A.11

Another possibility is that amphorae destined for the northern Pontus (and other areas of colonisation) were emptied in the coastal Greek colonies and refilled with whatever commodities the local population needed: fruit, nuts, even fish (again, we have evidence from shipwrecks). We know that fish formed a very important part of the Scythian diet; but fish were not plentiful in the hinterland, so where did they come from? It seems likely that though some amphorae contained wine, others contained fish. Jan Bouzek introduced the term ‘Greeks Overland’, appropriately in a volume dedicated to John Boardman.12 In his article with this title he presented very impressive finds of Greek pottery in Bohemia and further north. If we accept that there was a phenomenon that we (at least) can label, then why did ‘it’ happen, and when? As to when, in the past a prime concern was the relationship between Phoenician and Greek ‘colonisation’. Who was first, how did they develop, how did they relate? As the examiners would say ‘compare and contrast’. New evidence, especially from Carthage and Phoenician settlements in Spain, shows that Phoenician expansion began almost a century before Greek. While the Phoenicians established settlements in Sardinia and further to the west and south. Initially, the Greeks moved into territory closer to hand – central and southern Italy. And while many Phoenician settlements disappeared during the course of the 6th century BC, probably absorbed by the locals, Greek settlements persisted and prospered.13

Another example is Belsk, a city-site in the hinterland of the Ukrainian steppes, possibly the city of Gelon mentioned by ancient authors who tell us that Greeks from coastal emporia moved there (Herodotus 4.108): The Budini are a great and numerous nation; the eyes of all of them are very bright, and they are ruddy. They have a city built of wood, called Gelonus. The wall of it is thirty furlongs in length on each side of the city; this wall is high and all of wood; and their houses are wooden, and their temples; for there are among them temples of Greek gods, furnished in Greek fashion with images and altars and shrines of wood; and they honour Dionysus every two

There is no simple or single answer to the why, but nobody migrates on a whim. Modern research has, for the most part, undermined or disproved older suppositions and conjectures, though they continue to receive support from some, at least as contributory causes.14 The Greeks’ homeland was not deficient in natural resources, it was not overpopulated and Bouzek 2000. On the Phoenicians, see, for instance, Sagona 2004; 2008; 2011; Niemeyer 2006; Adam-Veleni and Stefani 2012. 14  Tsetskhladze 2006a; Descœudres 2008.

The inscription was found in 1990; it was first published in 1994 (in French). An English translation of this appeared in 1996 (see Bouzek et al. 1996, 205-216). An addenda by L. Domaradzka appeared in Bouzek et al 2002, 339-342.

12 

11 

13 

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incapable of feedings its inhabitants, etc. And whatever the overall circumstances, the particular catalyst for any city to embark (singly or jointly, by private enterprise or state organisation) in settlement expeditions overseas was seldom the same. From ancient written sources, if we search for a single reason, then ‘forced migration’ taken in the broadest possible way is our answer. But the forces themselves were many and various, quite different for different cities (and) at different times. And how these ‘push’ factors related to and might be balanced by ‘pull’ factors is just as variable and, potentially, imponderable. To take a concrete example, Milesian colonisation was indeed enforced, a response to the deteriorating economic and geo-political situation in Anatolia: Lydian expansion, which destroyed the chorai of the Ionian cities, particularly that of Miletus, left close to famine, was followed by Achaemenid, which produced or fanned political tensions, especially in Miletus, that were themselves a sufficient spur to migration (compounded, in particular, by Achaemenid destruction of Ionian cities after the failure of the Ionian Revolt). Thus, people desperate to emigrate readily succumbed to the lure of the (almost) unknown.

One revenant old chestnut is ‘pre-colonial contacts’, and a continued belief in pots equalling people. Thus, occasional early examples of Greek pottery found around the Black Sea are immediately brought forth in the service of these two causes to provide or confirm a distorted view or chronology of Greek contacts and settlement. Greeks, especially Ionians, demonstrated how adaptable they were to the new physical and environmental conditions they experienced in their new homelands – the swampy coasts of Colchis offer the best example, for instance Phasis. Ps.Hippocrates informs us: Concerning those in Phasis, the land is marshy, hot, humid and wooded. In every season the rains here are frequent and heavy. Here men live in the marshes. The dwellings are of wood and reed, constructed in the water. They seldom go on foot in the polis and the emporium, but canoe up and down in dug-outs, for there are many canals. The water they drink is hot and stagnant, corrupted by the sun and swollen by the rains. The Phasis itself is the most stagnant of rivers and flows most sluggishly. And all the crops which grow here are bad, of poor quality and without taste, on account of the excess of water. Consequently they do not ripen. Much mist enshrouds the land, owing to the water. And for the same reason the Phasians have an appearance different from that of other men. As to size, they are large and corpulent in body. Neither joint nor vein is evident. They have a yellow flesh, as if victims of jaundice. Their voices are deeper than other men’s: the air they breathe is not clear, but humid and murky. As to physical labour, they have a rather idle nature. The seasons do not vary much, either in heat or in cold. The winds are mostly moist, except one breeze peculiar to the country, called kenkhron, which sometimes blows strong, violent and hot. The north wind makes little impact, and when it blows it is weak and feeble (Airs, Waters, Places 15).

If we exclude the northern Black Sea littoral from our generalisations, the Greeks tended to settle in areas that were already inhabited, by barbarians (another word often eschewed: at the time of colonisation it simply meant ‘nonGreek’, with no connotations of inferiority or primitivism; these, increasingly heavy, arose in the Classical period and since). Thus, establishing a modus vivendi with the existing population was of the utmost importance. This encounter was long seen through modern eyes as leading to Hellenisation, the (unironic) outcome of a Greek mission civilisatrice. Another misreading, and a term which, like Romanisation, has sunk under the weight of its own baggage and the probing of modern scholarship, though some are still manning the pumps. The suggestion that the learning process was all one way, i.e. the Greeks taught the locals, is manifestly false. At the other extreme lies Michael Dietler,15 who rejects this so completely, down-playing the role of the Archaic Greeks and minimising their achievements, that he ‘washes the baby out with the bathwater’. Throughout the whole Greek ‘colonial world’ we can see how much the Greeks learnt from the locals and the varying realities of series of complex situations. The process was bi-directional, one of give-and-take, and to the benefit of both parties: two different ways of life encountered each other and sought to establish a relationship of coexistence and mutual benefit. To the Greeks, the locals were ‘others’ with strange practices, but so were the newly-arrived Greeks to the locals. Cultural contact(s), middle ground, entanglement, hybridisation, etc.: again, the competing terminology has run away with itself and become part of the story. After all, the Greeks were the foreigners, initially few in number, in someone else’s territory – and the primary burden was on them to establish a working accommodation with their hosts and neighbours (who soon became resident in the Greek cities).16

Local settlements were situated on artificial hills surrounded by marshes and water, and it is highly likely that Phasis, otherwise a typical Greek colony with its own constitution and temple of Apollo, followed this practice. It is highly likely that housing, temples and fortifications were all constructed of wood contained – there was no stone to be had locally and the ground conditions were hardly conducive to its use. Indeed, Arrian later wrote of Phasis’ wooden fortifications (Arrian Periplus 9), existing until the Romans arrived.17 From the start, as recent archaeological investigations have confirmed, the local population often formed a part of the settlements the Greeks established overseas, as I mentioned above: the overall impression is of collaboration, not confrontation.18 First- and even second-generation colonies were small, mainly established on peninsulas (easily defended, well-located, possibilities of harbourage). Megara Hyblaea in Sicily, where Greeks and locals lived side by side, had started

Giangiulio 2010; Hales and Hodos 2010; Bonfante 2011; Crielaard and Burgers 2012; Hermary and Tsetskhladze 2012; Rollinger and Schnegg 2014. 17  Tsetskhladze 1997. 18  See Tsetskhladze 2002; 2004 (both with bibliography).

Dietler 2010. The best work on Graeco-local relationships across the Greek ‘colonial world’ is Tréziny 2010. See also Descœudres 1990; De Angelis 2003; Tsetskhladze 2004; Hodos 2006, and the discussion of it in Ancient West and East 11 (2012): 191-259; Burgers and Crielaard 2007; Ulf 2009; 15  16 

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as a village, sprouting public buildings only later.19 In Spain, the initial settlement of the Phocaean colony of Emporion was on a small island close offshore adjoining a local village. When, at their request, it moved to the nearby mainland around 540 BC, the locals again formed part of its population (according to Strabo 3.4.8 and archaeological material).

For they had established a custom opposite to that of the kingdom of the Persians, to take rather than to give; this custom was indeed practised by the other Thracians as well (and it was more shameful not to give when asked than not to receive when having asked), but because of their power the Odrysians exploited it even more; as a matter of fact, it was impossible to do anything without giving gifts. Consequently, the kingdom gained great strength (2.97).

In areas where there were already strong local socio-political structures, as at Emporion (Herodotus 1.163)20 and Massalia (Aristotle fr. 549 Rose; and Justin 43.3-4),21 the nature of relations with the locals may reasonably be placed in terms of philia and/or amicitia: Greeks paid taxes, made gifts or rendered tribute to local rulers, and those same rulers employing Greek craftsmen to create their elite culture.22 This has a resemblance to the practice of the Achaemenids: skilled labour as a form of payment of taxes ‘in kind’. It certainly does not mean that the locals had been ‘Hellenised’; they used Greeks, their skills and craftsmanship to create their own identity, taking what they liked from Greek art but refashioning it as they saw fit and using it as they chose: an interplay of Greek skills and techniques and local features, an adaptability in serving local clients, that extended beyond making objects for them to erecting their dwellings, even their tombs.23 If we like, taking the material (culture) but not necessarily the culture, and creating local elite culture from Spain and the south of France via Italy to the Black Sea.24 A practical illustration of co-operation is that of Greeks and locals worked together in the same pottery workshops in many of these regions.25

In the northern Black Sea region, for instance, fortification walls were absent from Greek cities until the second half of the 6th century BC, and their construction was spurred by the coming of the Achaemenids, not by any problem with local peoples.26 Indeed, the viability of the Greek settlements so often depended on local goodwill, not just acceptance or indifference: Emporion was established in marshy terrain, hence unable to form a chora, just the problem faced by Massalia in the south of France on account of its rocky surroundings (Strabo 4.1.5). For both, exchange with the locals was vital. Step by step, especially from the Classical period, Massalia enlarged its territory and even established settlements nearby with a mixed Greek-local population. There were, exceptions: the settlers of Syracuse expelled the natives (Thucydides 3. 3), who were reduced to serfdom (Herodotus 7.155); in Heraclea Pontica on the southern Black Sea, the local Maryandinoi were killed or enslaved (Strabo 12.2.3); and some areas saw locals engaging in piracy and attacking Greek cities, but mostly much later than our focus.27

The local contexts in which early Greek objects have been found suggest that they came as gifts or tribute, not through trade. The Greeks were securing their position and their modes of life away from home, able to exploit local resources in exchange for paying, albeit in non-monetary form, for ‘protection’. They benefited, so did the locals: for the Archaic period, at least, there is little evidence of violence in the relationship. In the Classical period, when local kingdoms or proto-kingdoms had appeared, the picture was changing. As Thucydides remarks:

The earliest Greek colonial foundation in the Mediterranean was Pithekoussai (in Italy) in the mid-8th century BC or soon after.28 Recently, it has been suggested that a local population existed here before the coming of the Greeks. Within two or three generations of its foundation, all the major Greek colonies in the Mediterranean had been established, followed in the first half–middle of the 7th century (and even beyond) by more, many of which were ‘secondary colonies’, i.e. colonial offshoots of earlier, ‘primary’ colonies.29 Yet again, why? The answers echo and are as complex as those for the initial Greek expansion: overpopulation by successive waves of settlement stretching the resources of the original colony beyond its ability to support them; broader economic and politicalstrategic reasons; peaceful (or otherwise) penetration of its hinterland and incorporation of the lands of the local peoples there; political tensions and disruptions in which the losers sought a new future elsewhere, or were expelled. Again, a variety of local circumstances and a varied (local) response to them.

In the reign of Seuthes who was king after Sitalces and raised the tribute to its maximum, the tribute (phoros) from all the barbarian territory and the Greek cities which they ruled was worth about four hundred talents of silver which came in as gold and silver; and in addition, gifts (dora) of gold and silver equal in value were brought, not to mention how many embroidered and plain fabrics and the other furnishings, and all this was not given only to him but also to the other mighty and noble Odrysians.

I have written already about Al Mina,30 described in the literature as the Greeks’ ‘gateway to the Near East’– a local settlement in northern Syria at the mouth of the Orontes,

De Angelis 2003. On Greek colonisation of Sicily and the local population, see, for example, Domínguez 2006a. 20  On Greeks in Spain and their relations with the local population, see Domínguez 1999; 2002; 2006b; 2010; 2012a; Kerschner 2004; Morel 2006; Santos Retolaza 2008; Aquilué et al. 2010; Tsetskhladze 2014. 21  On Greeks in the South of France and their relationship with the local population, see Morel 2006; Domínguez 2012b; Bats 2012; Tsetskhladze 2014; and papers in Hermary and Tsetskhladze 2012. 22  Tsetskhladze 2010. 23  Tsetskhladze 2010; 2014. 24  Tsetskhladze 2010. 25  See Domínguez 2007; Denti 2008; 2012; 2013; Handberg and Jacobsen 2011; Ridgway 2012; Tsetskhladze 2012; Handberg 2013. Cf. Adam-Veleni et al. 2013. 19 

Tsetskhladze 2013. See, for example, Tsetskhladze 2000-01. 28  On the Greeks in Italy and their relationship with the local population, see, for example, Ridgway 1992; 2012; D’Agostino 2006; Greco 2006. 29  For secondary colonisation, see papers in Lombardo and Frisone 2009. 30  Tsetskhladze 2015a. See Boardman 1999b; 2005; 2006; Kearsley 1999; Descœudres 2002; Domínguez 2012a; and papers in Villing 2005. 26  27 

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and as important to our understanding of Greek contacts with the Near East as it is controversial – as I have about the joint Ionian foundation in Egypt, Naucratis.31 I shall conclude with my own home area, the Black Sea, to which Greek colonisation came rather late – only in the last quarter of the 7th century, mainly from Ionia, particularly Ionia’s major city, Miletus. Ionian colonisation in general, and Milesian in particular, was a very clear example of enforced migration: the first colonists were dispatched under the shadow of deteriorating relations between Ionia and the neighbouring Lydian kingdom.32 Further colonists followed when Ionia was included in the Achaemenid Empire, even more after the Achaemenids crushed the Ionian Revolt (of 499 BC) – people fled to avoid probable death or enslavement, a very strong ‘push’ factor. Ancient written sources state that overall between 75 colonies (Seneca Helv. 7.2) and 90 (Pliny NH 5.112) were established around the Black Sea, not just in the Archaic period and, yet again, most were secondary colonies or just small towns and villages. Only 25 major Archaic primary colonies were founded, eight of them in the second half of the 7th century, the others in the 6th century BC. Written sources mention places on the southern Black Sea but, except for the principal colonies, we have been unable to locate many of them33 (and we have been unable to excavate all of those that have been located – several are overbuilt or under water, as is the case elsewhere around the Pontus).

Greek Colonies in the Black Sea 2, vol. II, 1179-1194. Oxford: Archaeopress/BAR. Avram, A., J. Hind and G. Tsetskhladze 2004. The Black Sea Area. In Hansen and Nielsen 2004: 924-973. Bats, M. 2012. Greeks and Natives in Southern Gaul: Relationship, Acculturation and Identity. In Hermary and Tsetskhladze 2012: 3-20. Boardman, J. 1964. The Greeks Overseas, Harmondsworth: Penguin Books. Boardman, J. 1999a. The Greeks Overseas: Their Early Colonies and Trade, 4th ed. London: Thames and Hudson. Boardman, J 1999b. The Excavated History of Al Mina. In Tsetskhladze 1999: 135-163. Boardman, J. 2005. Al Mina: Notes and Queries. In Ancient West and East 4.2: 278-291. Boardman, J. 2006. Greeks in the East Mediterranean (South Anatolia, Syria, Egypt). In Tsetskhladze 2006b: 507-534. Bonfante, L. (ed.) 2011. The Barbarians of Ancient Europe: Realities and Interactions. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bouzek, J. 2000. Greeks Overland. In G. R. Tsetskhladze, A. J. N. W. Prag and A. M. Snodgrass (eds.) Periplous: Papers on Classical Art and Archaeology Presented to Sir John Boardman: 33-40. London: Thames and Hudson. Bouzek, J., L. Domaradzka and Z. H. Archibald (eds.) 2002. Pistiros II. Excavations and Studies. Prague: Charles University in Prague, The Karolinum Press. Bouzek, J., M. Domaradzki and Z. H. Archibald (eds.) 1996. Pistiros I. Excavations and Studies. Prague: Charles University in Prague, The Karolinum Press. Burgers, G.-J. and J. P. Crielaard 2007. Greek colonists and indigenous populations at L’Amastuola, southern Italy. In BABESCH 82.1: 77-114. Casevitz, M. 1985. Le vocabulaire de la colonisation en grec ancien. Paris: Klincksieck. Crielaard, J. P. and G.-J. Burgers 2012. Greek colonists and indigenous populations at L’Amastuola, southern Italy II. In BABESCH 87: 69-106. d’Agostino, B. 2006. The First Greeks in Italy. In Tsetskhladze 2006b: 201-237. D’Ercole, M. C. 2012. Histoires Méditerranéennes: Aspects de la colonisation grecque de l’Occident à la mer Noire (VIIIe–IVe siècles av. J.-C.). Arles: Errance. De Angelis, F. 2003. Equations of Culture: the Meeting of Natives and Greeks in Sicily (ca. 750-450 BC). In Ancient West and East 2.1: 19-50. De Angelis, F. 2009. Colonies and Colonization. In G. BoysStones, B. Graziosi and P. Vasunia (eds.) The Oxford Handbook of Hellenic Studies: 48-64. Oxford: Oxford University Press. De Angelis, F. 2010. Colonies and Colonization, Greek. In M. Gagarin (ed.) The Oxford Encyclopedia of Ancient Greece and Rome, vol. II: 251-256. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Demetriou, D. 2012. Negotiating Identity in the Ancient Mediterranean: The Archaic and Classical Greek Multiethnic Emporia. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Denti, M. 2008. La circulation de la céramique du ‘Wild Goat Style’ (MWGS I), de la Mer Noire à l’Occident. Les contextes de réception et de destination. In Revue archéologique 1: 3-36. Denti, M. 2012. Potiers œnôtres et grecs dans un espace artisanal du VIIe siècle avant J.-C. à l’Incoronata. In A. Esposito and G. M. Sanidas (eds.) ‘Quartiers’ artisanaux en Grèce ancienne: Une perspective méditerranéenne: 233-256. Villeneuve d’Ascq: Presses Universitaires Septentrion.

John Boardman’s The Greeks Overseas is a seminal work.34 Many syntheses have appeared, in various languages, in the half century since its first appearance, but none is its equal; now in its 4th edition, it has also been translated into many languages. This short paper makes no pretence to act as an introduction to a putative 5th edition; only John, with his encyclopaedic knowledge, can write that. It is instead a modest attempt to highlight current and recent work in the study of the Greek colonial world, all of it influenced by John’s book. Bibliography Adam-Veleni, P., E. Kefalidou and D. Tsiafaki (eds.) 2013. Pottery Workshops in Northeastern Aegean (8th-Early 5th c. BC). Thessaloniki: Archaeological Museum of Thessaloniki. Adam-Veleni, P. and E. Stefani (eds.) 2012. Greeks and Phoenicians at the Mediterranean Crossroads. Thessaloniki: Archaeological Museum of Thessaloniki. Antonaccio, C. M. 2007. Colonization: Greece on the Move, 900-480. In H. A. Shapiro (ed.) The Cambridge Companion to Archaic Greece, 201-224. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Aquilué, X., P. Castanyer, M. Santos and J. Tremoleda 2010. Grecs et indigènes aux origines de l’enclave phocéenne d’Emporion. In Tréziny 2010: 65-78. Atasoy, S. 2007. Ancient Greek Settlements in Eastern Thrace. In D. V. Grammenos and E. K. Petropoulos (eds.) Ancient Tsetskhladze 2015a. See, for example, Möller 2000; Boardman 2006; Demetrious 2012; and papers in Villing 2005. 32  On Ionian colonisation, see Tsetskhladze 1994; 2002. On the Greek colonisation of the Black Sea, see Tsetskhladze 1994; 1998a; 2004; 2009; 2012; 2015b; Avram et al. 2004. 33  See, for example, Avram et al. 2004; Atasoy 2007; Manoledakis 2010; 2013. 34  Boardman 1964. The latest (4th) edition is Boardman 1999a. 31 

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Denti, M. 2013. The Contribution of Research on Incoronata to the Problem of the Relations between Greeks and NonGreeks during Proto-Colonial Times. In Ancient West and East 12: 71-116. Descœudres, J.-P. 1990. Greek Colonists and Native Populations. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Descœudres, J.-P. 2002. Al Mina across the Great Divide. In Mediterranean Archaeology 15: 49-72. Descœudres, J.-P. 2008. Central Greece on the Eve of the Colonisation Movement. In Tsetskhladze 2008: 289-382. Descœudres, J.-P. 2013. Greek colonization movement, 8th6th centuries BCE. In I. Ness (ed.) The Encyclopedia of Global Human Migration: 1-8. < http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/ doi/10.1002/9781444351071.wbeghm260>. Dietler, M. 2010. Archaeologies of Colonialism: Consumption, Entanglement, and Violence in Ancient Mediterranean France. Berkeley: University of California Press. Domínguez, A. J. 1999. Hellenisation in Iberia?: The Reception of Greek Products and Influences by the Iberians. In Tsetskhladze 1999: 301-330. Domínguez, A. J. 2002. Greeks in Iberia: Colonialism without Colonization. In C. L. Lyons and J. K. Papadopoulos (eds.) The Archaeology of Colonialism: 65-95. Los Angeles: Getty. Domínguez, A. J. 2004. Greek Identity in the Phocaean Colonies. In K. H. Lomas (ed.) Greek Identity in the Western Mediterranean: Papers in Honour of Brian Shefton: 429-456. Leiden: Brill. Domínguez, A. J. 2006a. Greeks in Sicily. In Tsetskhladze 2006b: 253-357. Domínguez, A. J. 2006b. Greeks in the Iberian Peninsula. In Tsetskhladze 2006b: 429-505. Domínguez, A. J. 2007. Ionian Trade and Colonisation in the Iberian Peninsula: the Pottery Evidence. In S. L. Solovyov (ed.) Greeks and Natives in the Cimmerian Bosporus, 7th-1st Centuries BC: 34-40. Oxford: Archaeopress/BAR. Domínguez, A. J. 2010. Greeks and the Local Population in the Mediterranean: Sicily and the Iberian Peninsula. In S. L. Solovyov (ed.) Archaic Greek Culture: History, Archaeology, Art and Museology: 25-36. Oxford: Archaeopress/BAR. Domínguez, A. J. 2012a. Local Responses to Colonisation: Some Additional Perspectives. In Ancient West and East 11: 205218. Domínguez, A. J. 2012b. The First Century of Massalia: Foundation, Arrival of Migrants and Consolidation of Civic Identity. In Hermary and Tsetskhladze 2012: 61-82. Figueira, T. J. 2008. Colonisation in the Classical Period. In Tsetskhladze 2008: 427-523. Garland, R. 2014. Wandering Greeks: The Ancient Greek Diaspora from the Age of Homer to the Death of Alexander the Great. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Giangiulio, M. 2010. Deconstructing Ethnicities: Multiple Identities in Archaic and Classical Sicily. In BABESCH 85: 13-23. Gosden, C. 2004. Archaeology and Colonialism. Cultural Contact from 5000 BC to the Present. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Graham, A. J. 1982. The Colonial Expansion of Greece. In Cambridge Ancient History, vol. 3.3, 2nd ed.: 83-162. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Greco, E. 2006. Greek Colonisation in Southern Italy: A Methodological Essay. In Tsetskhladze 2006b: 169-200. Hales, S. and T. Hodos (eds.) 2010. Material Culture and Social Identities in the Ancient World. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Hall, J. M. 2008. Foundation Stories. In Tsetskhladze 2008: 383426. Handberg, S. 2013. Milesian Ktiseis and Aeolian Potters in the Black Sea Region. In M. Manoledakis (ed.) Exploring the Hospitable Sea: 1-18. Oxford: Archaeopress/BAR. Handberg, S. and J. K. Jacobsen 2011. Greek or Indigenous? From Potsherd to Identity in Early Colonial Encounters. In M. Gleba and H. W. Horsnæs (eds.) Communicating Identity in Italic Iron Age Communities: 177-196. Oxford: Oxbow. Hansen, M. H. 2006. Emporion. A Study of the Use and Meaning of the Term in the Archaic and Classical Periods. In Tsetskhladze 2006b: 1-39. Hansen, M. H. and T. H. Nielsen (eds.) 2004. An Inventory of Archaic and Classical Poleis. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Hermary, A. and G. R. Tsetskhladze (eds.) 2012. From the Pillars of Hercules to the Footsteps of the Argonauts. Leuven: Peeters. Hodos, T. 2006. Local Responses to Colonization in the Iron Age Mediterranean. London: Routledge. Hurst, H. and S. Owen (eds.) 2005. Ancient Colonizations: Analogy, Similarity and Difference. London: Duckworth. Karageorghis, V. (ed.) 2002. The Greeks Beyond the Aegean: From Marseilles to Bactria. Greek Migrations and Colonies, Ancient Era: New York: Alexander S. Onassis Public Benefit Foundation. Kearsley, R. 1999. Greeks Overseas in the 8th Century B.C.: Euboeans, Al Mina and Assyrian Imperialism. In Tsetskhladze 1999: 109-134. Kerschner, M. 2004. Phokäische Thalassokratie oder PhantomPhokäer? Die Frühgriechischen Keramikfunde im Süden der Iberischen Halbinsel aus der Ägäischen Perspektive. In K. H. Lomas (ed.) Greek Identity in the Western Mediterranean: Papers in Honour of Brian Shefton: 115-148. Leiden: Brill. Lombardo, M. and F. Frisone (eds.) 2009. Colonie di Colonie: le fondazioni sub-coloniale Greche tra colonizzazione e colonialismo. Lecce: Congedo. Malkin, I. 2004. Postcolonial Concepts and Ancient Greek Colonization. In Modern Language Quarterly 65.3: 341-364. Manoledakis, M. 2010. Choraides, Kerasous, Pharnakeia: Observations on Three Ancient Place-names in the Southern Black Sea. In Ancient West and East 9: 135-153. Manoledakis, M. 2013. The Southern Black Sea in the Homeric Iliad: Some Geographical, Philological and Historical Remarks. In M. Manoledakis (ed.) Exploring the Hospitable Sea: 19-37. Oxford: Archaeopress/BAR. Martinez-Sève, L. (ed.) 2012. Les diasporas grecques du VIIIe à la fin du IIIe siècle av. J.-C. (Pallas 89). Toulouse: Presses Universitaires du Midi. Möller, A. 2000. Naukratis: Trade in Archaic Greece. Oxford. Morel, J.-P. 2006. Phocaean Colonisation. In Tsetskhladze 2006b: 358-428. Niemeyer, H. G. 2006. ‘The Phoenicians in the Mediterranean. Between Expansion and Colonisation: A Non-Greek Model of Overseas Settlement and Presence. In Tsetskhladze 2006b: 143-168. Ridgway, D. 1992. The First Western Greeks. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ridgway, D. 2012. Demaratus of Corinth and the Hellenisation of Etruria. In Hermary and Tsetskhladze 2012: 207-22. Rollinger, R. and K. Schnegg (eds.) 2014. Kulturkontakte in antiken Welten: vom Denkmodell zum Fallbeispiel. Leuven: Peeters. Sagona, C. 2004. The Phoenicians in Spain from a Central Mediterranean Perspective: A Review Essay. In Ancient Near Eastern Studies 41: 240-266.

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Sagona, C. (ed.) 2008. Beyond the Homeland: Markers in Phoenician Chronology. Leuven: Peeters. Sagona, C. (ed.) 2011. Ceramics of the Phoenician-Punic World. Collected Essays. Leuven: Peeters. Santos Retolaza, M. 2008. L’arqueologia grega a Empúries. Un discurs en construcció. In Annals de l’Institut d’Estudis Empordanesos 39: 49-79. Tréziny, H. (ed.) 2010. Grecs et indigènes de la Catalogne à la mer Noire. Paris: Errance. Tréziny, H. 2012. Topography and Town Planning in Ancient Massalia. In Hermary and Tsetskhladze 2012: 83-107. Tsetskhladze, G. R. 1994. Greek Penetration of the Black Sea. In Tsetskhladze and De Angelis 1994: 111-136. Tsetskhladze, G. R. 1997. How Greek Colonists Adapted their Way of Life to the Conditions in Colchis. In J. Fossey (ed.) Proceedings of the First International Conference on the Archaeology and History of the Black Sea: 121-136. Amsterdam: Gieben. Tsetskhladze, G. R. 1998a. Greek Colonisation of the Black Sea Area: Stages, Models, Native Populations. In Tsetskhladze 1998b: 9-68. Tsetskhladze, G. R. (ed.) 1998b. Greek Colonisation of the Black Sea Area. Historical Interpretation of Archaeology. Stuttgart: Steiner. Tsetskhladze, G. R. (ed.) 1999. Ancient Greeks West and East. Leiden: Brill. Tsetskhladze, G. R. 2000-01. Black Sea Piracy. In G. R. Tsetskhladze and J. G. De Boer (eds.) The Black Sea Area in the Greek, Roman and Byzantine Period (Talanta 31-32): 11-15. Amsterdam: Dutch Archaeological and Historical Society. Tsetskhladze, G. R. 2002. Ionians Abroad. In G. R. Tsetskhladze and A. M. Snodgrass (eds.) Greek Settlements in the Eastern Mediterranean and the Black Sea: 81-96. Oxford: Archaeopress/BAR. Tsetskhladze, G. R. 2004. On the Earliest Greek Colonial Architecture in the Pontus. In C. J. Tuplin (ed.) Pontus and the Outside World: Studies in Black Sea History, Historiography and Archaeology: 225-281. Leiden: Brill. Tsetskhladze, G. R. 2006a. Revisiting Ancient Greek Colonisation. In Tsetskhladze 2006b: xxiii-lxxxiii. Tsetskhladze, G. R. (ed.) 2006b. Greek Colonisation: An Account of Greek Colonies and Other Settlements Overseas, vol. I. Leiden: Brill. Tsetskhladze, G. R. (ed.) 2008. Greek Colonisation: An Account of Greek Colonies and Other Settlements Overseas, vol. II, Leiden: Brill.

Tsetskhladze, G. R. 2009. The City in the Greek Colonial World. In A. P. Lagopoulos (ed.) A History of the Greek City: 143-167. Oxford: Archaeopress/BAR. Tsetskhladze, G. R. 2010. Beware of Greeks bearing gifts: Gifts, tribute, bribery and cultural contacts in the Greek colonial world. In R. Rollinger et al. (eds.) Interkulturalität in der Alten Welt: Vorderasien, Hellas, Ägypten und die vielfältigen Ebenen des Kontakts: 41-61. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Tsetskhladze, G. R. 2012. Pots versus People: Further Consideration of the Earliest Examples of East Greek Pottery in Native Settlements of the Northern Pontus. In Hermary and Tsetskhladze 2012: 315-374. Tsetskhladze, G. R. 2013. The Greek Bosporan Kingdom: Regionalism and Globalism in the Black Sea. In F. De Angelis (ed.), Regionalism and Globalism in Antiquity: Exploring their Limits: 202-228. Leuven: Peeters. Tsetskhladze, G. R. 2014. From the Pillars of Hercules to the Scythian Lands: Identifying Ethno-Cultural Interactions. In Rollinger and Schnegg 2014: 215-251. Tsetskhladze, G. R. 2015a. The Greek Colonisation of the Mediterranean and the Black Sea. In P. Adam-Veleni and D. Tsangari (eds.) Greek Colonisation: New Data, Current Approaches: 205-223. Athens: Archaeological Museum of Thessaloniki/Alpha Bank. Tsetskhladze, G. R. 2015b. Greeks and Natives around the Black Sea: Recent Developments. In G. R. Tsetskhladze, A. Avram and J. F. Hargrave (eds.), The Danubian Lands between the Black, Aegean and Adriatic Seas (7th Century BC10th Century AD): 11-42. Oxford: Archaeopress. Tsetskhladze, G. R. and F. De Angelis (eds.) 1994. The Archaeology of Greek Colonisation: Essays Dedicated to Sir John Boardman: Oxford: Oxford University Committee for Archaeology. Tsetskhladze, G. R. and J. F. Hargrave. 2011. Colonisation from Antiquity to Modern Times: Comparisons and Contrasts. In Ancient West and East 10: 161-182. Ulf, C. 2009. Rethinking cultural contacts. In Ancient West and East 8: 81-131. Villing, A. (ed.) 2005. The Greeks in the East. London: British Museum. Woolf, G. 2013. Diasporas and colonization in Classical Antiquity. In I. Ness (ed.) The Encyclopedia of Global Human Migration: 1-14 .

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Godlike Images: Priestesses in Greek Sculpture Iphigeneia Leventi The first almost certain depiction of a priestess in action can be found on the east frieze of the Parthenon. There is general consensus among scholars concerning the identification of the mature female figure in the middle of slab V as the priestess of Athena Polias, shown with her back turned to the man in priestly garment who is dealing with the peplos. Even though the iconographic type of this priestess is a generic one with no evident relation to the sculptural representations of the female deity she serves, also lacking identifying attributes like the temple key or the xoanon of the goddess, her identity is established by the context in which she appears, and especially her interaction with the two female attendants, who are recognised as arrephoroi or kanephoroi.1 A similar scene can be seen on the early Classical clay Locrian pinakes, where a priestess is depicted with one or more attendants, or with a host of devotees in a ritual performance.2 The most renowned surviving statue of a Greek priestess is that of Hegeso (formerly known as Nikeso) from Priene, a marble headless statue on display in the Antikensammlung in Berlin inv. no. Sk 1928 (Figure 1), dating to the first half of the 3rd century BC. Hegeso has been identified as a priestess of Demeter and Kore on the basis of the accompanying votive inscription.3 She is dressed in chiton and a voluminous mantle, her right arm and left hand lost. The main features of this priestess statue are the crinkly texture of her mantle and the long hair falling on her back and shoulders in front. Both features are highly unusual for the iconography of a female portrait statue, but accord well with the iconography of the goddess Demeter whom Hegeso served. The texture of her mantle is thought to represent the special fabric of a highly elaborate garment that evokes the famous Coae vestes.4 In fact, however, the unusual rippling treatment of the entire mantle was employed on purpose in order to reflect the realistically creased drapery of the seated Demeter from Knidos in the British Museum inv. no. 1051, a marble original of the fourth century BC.5

Figure 1. Hegeso from Priene. Berlin, Antikensammlung inv. no. Sk 1928. Photo: author.

The slightly over-life-size (1.73 m.) Priene statue, the epigraphic formula of its inscription, as well as its position next to another honorific statue (now lost) representing a priestess of the same goddesses at the entrance of their

sanctuary, provide sufficient evidence for its identification as a statue of Hegeso Hipposthenous, a priestess of Demeter and Kore. The attributes of Hegeso pose a problem. The kalathos on her head suggested by H. Schrader is highly improbable, as it is not documented in the iconography of priestesses. Furthermore, it would have turned the statue into a cistophoros, a type reserved for Caryatids in Greek sculpture.6 The other suggestions that have been put forward propose that the priestess either carried a hydria on her head supporting it with her raised right hand, or that she held a torch in the same hand.7 The first suggestion would have underlined her mission as the servant of the goddess,

The identification with arrephoroi by Deubner 1932: 12, pl. 1.1 remained influential. See recently, Meyer 2017: 235-240, fig. 130. Palagia 2008: 33, identified the two maidens as kanephoroi . Cf. Mantis 1990: 79-80, pl. 33a, and 78-80, pl. 33b, on the identification of the priestess. 2  Kaufmann-Samaras and Szabados 2004: 436-437, nos. 153a-b, with drawings. Marroni and Torelli 2016: 54-58, figs. 34-37, recognizing the scene as a kind of peplophoria. 3  Schrader: in Wiegand and Schrader 1904: 149-151, figs. 118-120; Mantis 1990: 98-99, fig. 44b; Connelly 2007: 137-139, fig. 5.12; Dillon 2010: 77-78, n. 318, and 124-126, fig. 2 (cast) and 65 (back view). On the new reading of the priestess’ name as Hegeso, Queyrel 2016: 166, fig. 145. Cf. http://arachne.uni-koeln.de/item/objekt/34627 (K. Hallof). 4  See Connelly 2007: 137-138 with n. 91. 5  Ridgway 1997: 332-333, pl. 79a-c. 1 

Schrader: in Wiegand and Schrader 1904: 151. On Caryatids, Stephanidou-Tiveriou 2007: especially 500-502, figs. 5-7, 10; Palagia 2016: figs.1-3, 10-11. 7  A torch was suggested by Kron 1996: 148. 6 

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Figure 3. Aristonoe from Rhamnous. Athens, National Archaeological Museum inv. no. 232. Detail: Head. Photo: author. of grain and poppies.9 The torch as an attribute of Hegeso, priestess of Demeter and Kore, is a more plausible suggestion, since a large circular hole for its insertion once existed on the right side of the upper part of her base, only evident today as a break on its surface.10 Alternatively, she may have held a long scepter as priestesses can appropriate divine attributes.11 Let us now proceed to the late Hellenistic period to observe the statue of another known priestess, that of the Athenian Aristonoe (Figure 2) who served the mighty goddess Nemesis, worshipped in the provincial sanctuary in the northeastern coast of Attica at the deme of Rhamnous. This life-size female statue was found almost intact together with its inscribed base during the excavations of the smaller Archaic temple of Nemesis at Rhamnous, and was transferred to the National Archaeological Museum of Athens inv. no. 232, where it remains today. When it was found in 1891, the hand of the now missing inserted right forearm held a small phiale.12

Figure 2. Aristonoe from Rhamnous. Athens, National Archaeological Museum inv. no. 232. Photo: author. in view of the hydriaphoroi terracotta statuettes representing female votaries that were widely diffused in the Greek world, serving as votive offerings in several of Demeter and Kore’s sanctuaries.8 The second would have emphasized instead her godlike image in view of her comparison to the Eleusinian deities she served. Another example of such godlike attributes is offered by depictions of female devotees of Demeter on grave reliefs from Smyrna dating to the later Hellenistic period. The devotees on these grave reliefs are portrayed standing next to a large torch, and occasionally hold shafts

Klöckner 2013: especially 317, figs. 1-15. Schrader: in Wiegand and Schrader 1904: fig. 118; Connelly 2007: fig. 5.12; Dillon 2010: 78. 11  Like the priestess of the Argive Hera bearing a temple key and scepter on an Attic red-figure hydria by the Agrigento Painter in Boston, Museum of Fine Arts inv. no. 08.417: Connelly 2007: 71-72 with n. 24, 82, fig. 3.3; Ridgway 1990: 211-212, suggested a scepter for Hegeso. 12  Stais 1891: 53-55, fig. on p. 46, pls. 3-5; Mantis 1990: 103, 109, pl. 46β; Connelly 2007: 145-146, 234, fig. 5.14; Dillon 2010: 76-77, 106-108, fig. 1 (left-right as on the cover), 46-47; Cf. Keesling 2012: 498 n. 107, 9 

10 

See Mantis 1990: 98-99 with n. 425, pl. 44b. Cf. the discussion in Connelly 2007: 137-138. Recently also, Queyrel 2016: 166-167. 8 

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Figure 4. Attic Grave Relief of Hieron from Rhamnous. Athens, National Archaeological Museum inv. no. 833. Detail. Head of Lysippe. Photo: D-DAI-ATH-NM 4665, Eva Maria Czakó.

Figure 5. Attic grave relief of Hieron from Rhamnous. Athens, National Archeological Museum inv. no. 833. Detail. Head of Lysippe. Photo: D-DAI-ATH-NM 4666, Eva Maria Czakó.

According to the votive inscription, the statue of Aristonoe was dedicated by her son Hierokles Hieropoiou to both Themis and Nemesis, who were venerated together in the city sanctuary of Rhamnous. Aristonoe dons a chiton and a diagonal mantle that is transparent in the abdomen area, enveloping both her arms down to the elbows. A priestly strophion is visible only in the front of her head, above the forehead (Figure 3). The mature age of Aristonoe is revealed by the fact that the dedication was made by her son and is corroborated by the ‘Venus rings’ visible on her neck and the subtle wrinkles on her face.

since the right flank is thrust to the side, while the upper body tilts to the left. And last but not least, her mantle is full of the characteristic late Hellenistic crease marks.14 All these point to a date in the second half of the 2nd and /or the early part of the 1st century BC. Of interest to us is the fact that the statuary type of Aristonoe is also used for the goddess identified as Themis on a fourth-century votive relief found in Rhamnous and recomposed from two fragments: one in the British Museum, the other in the Rhamnous Archaeological Collection.15 The diagonal mantle of Aristonoe also occurs on Lysippe, wife of Hieron son of Hierokles. She is portrayed with her husband on a late-fourth-century grave relief from Rhamnous on display in the National Archaeological Museum of Athens inv. no. 833.16 The stance of Lysippe is similar to that of Aristonoe, her mantle tightly enveloping the body and revealing it as it stretches over the abdomen. Lysippe’s left arm is raised holding up the edge of her mantle in a version of the anakalypsis motif performed towards Hieron, to whom her elegant head is also turned, her right hand outstretched in the handshake gesture. It is, however, interesting to note, that she bears a priestly strophion around her delicately arranged hair, an attribute not noticed so far (Figures. 4-5). Two small

The letter-forms of the dedicatory inscription (IG II2 3462) downdates the statue to the mid-2nd century BC, whereas its traditional chronology was considered to be somewhere in the 3rd century BC.13 However, the structure of Aristonoe’s body is not cylindrical. Her sides lack depth, as her drapery lacks volume, all of them being characteristics of the late Hellenistic period, together with the soft modeling around the corners of her mouth. Her contrapposto is not consistent, on her priestly strophion. 13  Jacob-Felsch 1969: 90 with n. 281, 158, no. Ι 60 and Schmidt 1995: 257, no. Ι.1.61, date the base in the late 2nd century according to its form. Tracy 1990: 163-165, especially 165 (ca. 155); Palagia 2003: 546 with n. 42, fig. 13; Dillon 2010: 198 no. 281. Cf. Weber 1960, 128-129, figs. 10-11 (late Hellenistic period). Petrakos 1999 I: 288, fig. 201, and II, 108-109, no. 133 (3th century). Pilz 2013: 162, suggested that the earlier 3rd -century statue was reused with a new base in the mid2nd century.

See Öztepe 2007: 251, 256-257, 251. London, British Museum inv. no. 1953.5-30.1+ Rhamnous storerooms 530: Palagia and Lewis 1989: pl. 49. 16  Petrakos 1999 I: 397-398, figs. 293-294. 14  15 

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drill holes at the front, on the strophion and the hair, are either for a metal attachment or evidence of ancient repair.

accompanying inscription or her iconographic type. This is particularly true in a grave relief in the Piraeus Museum inv. no. 3627, where Kybele’s priestess Chairestrate is shown calmly seated as a young attendant approaches her from the right carrying the tympanon.24 And this brings us to the next group of monuments from outside Attica, dating to the late 4th or early 3rd century BC., where such signifiers do not appear.

Although in the case of the grave stele depicting Hieron and Lysippe the funerary epigram identifies Hieron as the deceased without elucidating on Lysippe’s identity, she also seems to have been a priestess in the sanctuary of Nemesis and Themis. The diagonal mantle is an exceptional garment primarily worn by youthful goddesses in sculpture.17 It is absent from female votaries on classical Greek reliefs, though extraordinarily enough it can be seen worn over an Oriental chiton by the female servant carrying the basket of offerings on her head at the end of the procession of adorants.18 It is indeed rare on Attic tombstones of the 4th century BC, only appearing on a handful of monuments (mostly marble lekythoi) where it is donned by young or heroised female figures.19 Finally, it is worth noting that the diagonal mantle is worn by both the aforementioned Rhamnousian women who were married and rather matronly, although the latter quality is not expressed in their sculptural representations, which suggests that the resemblance to the divine dress may have been a priority for their depiction. Furthermore, a similar case is that of the Roman statues from the Artemis Ortheia sanctuary at Messene, epigraphically confirmed as priestesses, also donning the diagonal mantle that is occasionally worn by this goddess.20

The first of these is an unusual but well-known atticising votive relief in the Lamia Archaeological Museum inv. no. AE 1041 (Figure 6). It was found in Achinos, a liminal area between Malis and Achaia Phthiotis in Central Greece, and was possibly dedicated in a local sanctuary of Artemis. The scene depicted on it is particularly elucidated by the garments shown in low relief hanging in the background, thought to be the wall of the temple of Artemis. The goddess is represented standing, holding a large torch in her right hand. Her hair is gathered in a small bun at her back, the head crowned with a stephane. Her left arm is supported by a low pillar, the hand having possibly held her bow or an arrow. The upper part of her quiver is visible over her right shoulder. She is dressed in a high-girded Attic peplos with a back-mantle. Particularly notable are the figures depicted behind the sacrificial altar with the servant and the bull. First comes a youthful striding female figure in a high-girded Attic peplos, holding out an infant, possibly a girl. A maiden is depicted in lower relief behind her, also clad in the Attic peplos, carrying on her head a tray with various offerings and holding a small oinochoe in her lowered right hand. The last figure on the left is a taller woman of more mature age clad in chiton and mantle. She raises her right hand before her breast in an adoration gesture, while grasping a small incense box in her outstretched left hand. The young woman holding the child is usually identified either as the mother or the nurse.25 I do not agree with the interpretation that this figure is the mother presenting her baby girl to the goddess on the occasion of the successful birth or in order to ensure further divine protection for the infant. A mother is never clad in an Attic peplos on votive or grave reliefs.26 On the other hand, when a nurse carrying the baby appears on Greek votive reliefs depicting families of adorants, she is set at the end of the array of mortals, dressed in chiton and mantle.27

On Attic grave reliefs of the 4th century a priestess is usually designated by the large temple key she carries or supports on her shoulder, and she is represented seated or standing, either alone, or accompanied by members of her family. The relevant funerary inscription is rarely informative of her identity or career, in most cases providing nothing more than the personal name of the priestess that is clearly considered to be enough in addition to the crucial attribute she carries, thus allowing for her identification.21 In a few special cases some priestesses carry a tympanon and are therefore identified as priestesses of the goddess Kybele.22 They are all dressed in chiton and mantle, the only elements differentiating them from other mortal women in Greek tombstones being their attributes, as well as often a hairband.23 Indeed, the temple key or the tympanon may be indispensable iconographic traits whenever a priestess is not identified as such by the

I would like to suggest that the figure in question is a young priestess of Artemis. This youthful female figure is dressed in the same garment as Artemis, the Attic peplos, and has her hair similarly arranged in a small bun over the nape of her neck. Moreover, she is attended by the maiden, who bears the tray of offerings on her head and the libation jug. The latter may thus be interpreted as the maidservant of the priestess, reminding us of the young girls attending Athena Polias’ priestess on the Parthenon east frieze. The young priestess of Artemis is of the appropriate age for serving the maiden goddess and also bears the special attire of unmarried

Leventi 2003: 59-61. See also the xoanon of a goddess, either Athena Nike or Athena Polias on a fragmentary relief from the Akropolis, Akropolis Museum inv. no. 2605+4734+2447: Brøns 2017: 370 with n. 60, fig. 119. 18  E.g. on the votive relief to Asklepios and Hygieia, Athens, National Archaeological Museum inv. no. 1333: Leventi 2003: 153, no. R 70, pl. 46 (320-310 BC). 19  E.g. the impressive female figure in the middle of the relief scene on the lekythos in New York, Metropolitan Museum of Art inv. no. 49.11: Clairmont 1993: 192-193, no. 7.330. 20  Connelly 2007: 155-157, figs. 5.22-23. 21  Freyer-Schauenburg 1989: figs. 1-3; Kosmopoulou 2001: 292-299, 312-316, nos. P1- P10, figs. 3-4; Connelly 2007: 223-240, figs. 8.4-8.10 ; Connelly 2008. See also the fragmentary 4th century document relief in Berlin, Staatliche Museen, Antikensammlungen SK 881, with Athena’s Nike crowning a priestess, who holds a temple key: Connelly 2008: 189, fig.3. Cf. Connelly 2007: 95-98 with n. 65, fig. 4.7, pl. 13. She also discusses another, late 5th -century document relief in Athens, Akropolis Museum inv. no. 2758+2427 (Connely 2007: 96-97 with n. 69, fig. 4.8), which provides our earliest evidence for a key-bearing priestess in Attic sculpture. 22  Kosmopoulou 2001: 296. 23  Rahn 1986: 200, pl. 11a ; Kosmopoulou 2001: 297 with n. 174. 17 

Clairmont 1993: 495-496, no. 1.934; Kosmopoulou 2001: 313-315, fig.4. 25  Dakoronia and Gounaropoulou 1992: pls. 57-60; Cole 2004: 213: a mother. Morizot 2004: 162-163, fig, 1; Mehl 2009: 198-199, fig. 2; Neils 2009: 141, fig. 3; Dasin 2014: 67-68, fig. 15: a nurse. 26  On the Attic peplos as the exclusive garment of unmarried women and maidens, see Margariti 2017: vii and 161-165. It is not normally worn by nurses: Schulze 1998: 25-42, pls. 5-11. 27  Examples in Schulze 1998: 41-42, 131-132, nos. AW 1, 4-5, pl. 11. 24 

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Figure 6. Votive relief to Artemis. Lamia Museum inv. no. AE 1041. Photo: Lamia Museum, © Ministry of Culture and Sports –Archaeological Receipts Fund. females. An ordinary maiden is never depicted leading a group of adults, but instead shows her modesty by occupying a less prominent position within the group.28 Thus, three of the four female figures portrayed on the relief, namely the youthful goddess Artemis, the young woman presenting the child to the goddess, the one we have interpreted as a priestess, as well as the young attendant bearing the offerings wear the Attic peplos, their hair bound securely in a bun at the nape of the neck. The choice of this attire and youthful coiffure by the sculptor of the relief was purposeful, in order to declare the association between these three figures.29 On the other hand, the mature woman on the left end of the relief is wrapped in her mantle and veiled. This figure has been interpreted as the grandmother or as the priestess of Artemis.30 However, the veiled head and the adoration gesture occur on married female adorants,31 hence she is probably the dedicator of the relief and mother of the child. On the other hand, the young woman carrying the child is shown boldly approaching the goddess in a manner not befitting female votaries on Greek votive reliefs who always proceed with restraint, performing an adoration gesture towards the gods.32 Her intimacy of

communication with Artemis on the relief scene points to the female figure’s identification as the youthful priestess of the goddess. Another possibly Thessalian votive relief can be seen in Hamburg, Museum für Kunst und Gewerbe inv. no. 1991.136 (Figure 7).33 Artemis is here seated on a rock on the left and depicted as a huntress, clad in chiton, mantle and a finer garment (possibly a nebris?) hanging diagonally from her right shoulder. Facing her stands an imposing woman of heavy proportions dressed in chiton and diagonal mantle, possibly an incense-box held in her left hand, while her now missing right hand could have held out a phiale or a libation jug. Two children are depicted before her, a standing girl and a toddler crawling on the ground. An older girl stands behind her. At the far back, half-hidden by the right anta of the relief is a rather elderly female attendant clad in the Attic peplos. She carries a liknon full of bloodless offerings.34 The woman in the center is matronly, almost as tall as the seated Artemis, her drapery echoing the attire of the goddess, while she is accompanied by her cult attendant. She also stands directly facing Artemis, performing no adoration gesture, but carrying cult objects. Her head was inclined, yet uncovered. The name of the dedicant inscribed on the architrave is Ἀρσίππα Εὐδοξεία, Arsippa daughter of Eudoxus, which indicates that

E.g. the votive relief above n. 18. For a possible depiction of the priestess of Artemis, Iphigeneia, in a similar type, holding a temple key on the Apulian kotyle in London, British Museum inv. no. F 127, see Mantis 1990: 65 with n. 258, pl. 27b; Connelly 2007: 14, fig. 1.1. 30  Chrysostomou 2001: 243 n. 45: a priestess accompanied by her servant. Dillon 2002: 232, fig. 7.4, thinks that the veiled figure is the mother accompanied by two female servants. 31  See Athens, National Archaeological Museum inv. no. 3540: Leventi 2003: 154, no. R 74, pl. 49. 32  E.g. Brauron Museum inv. no. 32+32a+1153: Vikela 2015: 212, no. Ar 28  29 

36, pl. 35. 33  Hoffmann 1994: figs. 1-2; Vikela 2015: 212, no. Ar 38, pl. 35. 34  In Italian vase-painting, elderly cult agents wear occasionally the Attic peplos carrying temple keys: Connelly 2007: 98-103, figs. 4.9-15. For a similar liknon, see a votive relief to the Apollonian triad in Delphi Museum inv. no. 8874+1101+3815: Vikela 2015: 219, no. Tr 10, pl. 57.

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Figure 7. Votive relief to Artemis. Hamburg, Museum für Kunst und Gewerbe inv. no. 1991.136. Photo: Museum. she may have indeed been the unmarried priestess of Artemis shown here in advanced age as she brings the children of Artemis’ devotees to the kourotrophos goddess. Or was she a married woman referred to only by her patronymic according to a traditional formulation? 35

peplos with a low overfold and kolpos, and a mantle.36 The goddess holds a torch in her left hand and is accompanied by her deer. On the left her priestess Laodike is portrayed in the same pose, wearing a similar Attic peplos and carrying a small oinochoe in her lowered right hand, whereas her left arm is raised, the hand once supporting a missing tray or even a kanoun or liknon she carried on her head, thus bearing the cult paraphernalia of an attendant.

The third votive relief from Gonnoi in Thessaly in the Volos Archaeological Museum inv. no. Ε 274 (L 389) (Figure 8) is dedicated to Artemis Euonymos by her priestess Laodike, according to the inscription that is visible below the relief panel. It shows Artemis standing to the left, dressed in chiton,

The late-fourth-century grave relief of Phila from Pella in ancient Macedonia bears an inscription with her name: Φίλα Μενάνδ[ρου]. It is nowadays kept in the Pella Museum inv. no. 1977/1139 (Figure 9). Phila is portrayed in a frontal pose, fully enveloped in her mantle which also covers her head and hands. She is accompanied by a maidservant clad in a highgirded Attic peplos, who carries a tray with fruits and popana on her head and holds a libation jug in her left hand. This cult attendant is almost identical to the one depicted on the Achinos votive relief. In view of the attire of Phila, which is highly unusual in the repertory of Greek grave reliefs, and the attributes of her maidservant, the excavator has suggested that the relief depicts a priestess.37 Indeed, this funerary

Cf., e.g., the name formula of Philip’s II mother and queen of Amyntas III of Macedonia, Eurydike, referred in her dedications to Eukleia in Vergina only with her patronymic: Εὐρυδίκα Σίρρα. Saatsoglou Paliadeli 2000: 397 with n. 68, expressed the view that Eurydike could actually have been a priestess of Eukleia. A marble statue found in the sanctuary of Eukleia remains unpublished and is of uncertain identification. It was recognised as a portrait of Eurydice, possibly as a priestess, shown in an Argive peplos over a chiton and veiled. Dillon 2010: 78-81, with nn. 328-329, figs. 33, 60. Cf. contra Palagia 2010: 39-40, who suggests that the Argive peplos was reserved for deities and considers it a statue of the goddess Eukleia. Also, recently Kyriakou and Tourtas 2015: 364-371, figs. 13.10, 13.12, suggest that the face of the statue of Eukleia was later reworked as the queen mother Eurydike. It was deposited ritually after its destruction in a pit along with two heads of statues representing deities. 35 

Helly 1973: 186, no. 167, fig. 25; Heinz 1998: 257-258, no. 159, fig. 32. Chrysostomou 2001: 241-242, fig. 1. Cf. contra, Kalaitzi 2016: 39-40, with n. 91, who states that the veiled head and both hands covered 36  37 

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Figure 8. Votive relief to Artemis.Volos Museum inv. no. E 274 (L 389). Photo: author.

relief supports the idea that the maidservant carrying the tray or the liknon of offerings defines a priestess as such, and can therefore provide evidence for the identification of priestesses with their cult attendants in the aforementioned votive reliefs. Most importantly, however, further evidence is provided by an Apulian crater in the Naples Museum where the mythical priestess of Artemis Iphigeneia holding the temple key stands before the altar with the suppliant Orestes, accompanied by her maidservant who is carrying the tray of offerings and the oinochoe, just like on the Pella and Achinos reliefs.38

Figure 9. Grave relief of Phila. Pella Museum inv. no. 1977/1139. Photo: © Ministry of Culture and Sports / Ephorate of Antiquities of Pella.

The sartorial evidence, as well as the female attendant, are of prime importance for the identification of Greek priestesses on reliefs, especially when specific attributes are lacking. Furthermore, I would also like to compare this servant with Syeris, diakonos of the lifetime priestess of Athena Polias, Lysimache, known by her statue base inscription (IG II2 3464) and from Pausanias 1.27.4, whose image, not accidentally, was set up on the Athenian Akropolis together with the statue of the priestess she attended (IG II2 3453), around the mid-4th century B.C.39 We have investigated the different means of identifying a priestess in Greek sculpture, taking into account the iconographic context in which priestesses appear in some relief monuments. We focused on special cases where priestesses are portrayed in statues and reliefs drawing on the iconography of the female deity that they served. This study thus aimed to develop certain iconographic tools to aid

by the himation are not characteristic of a priestess. Νevertheless, a fleeing Pythia accompanied by her attendant on an Apulian crater in Berlin, Staatliche Museen, Antikensammlung inv. no. F 3256: Mantis (1990: 57, no. Π 4, pl. 22) has her head and left hand totally covered by her mantle. 38  Apulian volute crater by the Painter of Iliou Persis, ca. 370-360 BC, Naples, Museo Archeologico Nazionale inv. no. H 3223: Mantis 1990: 53, no. I 12, pl. 19b. Cf. also Iphigeneia accompanied by her cult attendant on a lost Campanian amphora: Mantis 1990: 54 no. I 17, pl. 20a.

39 

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Keesling 2012: especially 496-497, with figs. 1,2,4, 8-9 (statue bases).

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identification of priestesses of Greek cults independently of their attributes or in addition to them.

S. Onassis Public Benefit Foundation (USA)-National Archaeological Museum, Athens, Hellenic Ministry of Culture. Kaufmann-Samaras, A. and A.-V. Szabados 2004. In ThesCRA II, 5.II. s.v. Personnel of cult. Cult instruments. Vetéments, parures : 424-437. Keesling, C. M. 2012. Syeris, Diakonos of the priestess Lysimache on the Athenian Acropolis (IG II2 3464). In Hesperia 81: 467-505. Klöckner, A. 2013. Dienerinnen der Demeter? Zu einer Gruppe von Grabreliefs aus Smyrna. In Horster and Klöckner 2013: 303-353. Kron, U. 1996. Priesthoods, dedications and euergetism. What part did religion play in the political and social status of Greek women? In P. Hellström and B. Alroth (ed.) Religion and Power in the Ancient Greek World. Proceedings of the Uppsala Symposium 1993: 139-182. Uppsala: Uppsaliensis S. Academiae. Kosmopoulou, A. 2001. ‘Working women’: Female professionals on Classical Attic gravestones. In BSA 96: 281-319. Kyriakou, A. and A. Tourtas, 2015. Detecting patterns through context analysis: a case study of deposits from the sanctuary of Eukleia at Aigae (Vergina). In D. C. Haggis and C.Μ. Antonaccio (ed.), Classical Archaeology in Context. Theory and Practice in Excavation in the Greek World: 357-384. Berlin and Boston: De Gruyter. Leventi, I. 2003. Hygieia in Classical Greek Art. Archaiognosia Supplementary Volume 2. Athens: University of Athens. Faculty of Philosophy. Μantis, Α. 1990. Προβλήματα της εικονογραφίας των ιερειών και των ιερέων στην αρχαία ελληνική τέχνη. Δημοσιεύματα του Αρχαιολογικού Δελτίου αρ. 42. Athens: Ministry of Cuture. Margariti K. 2017. The Death of the Maiden in Classical Athens. O θάνατος της αγάμου κόρης στην Αθήνα των κλασικών χρόνων. Oxford: Archaeopress. Marroni E. and Torelli, M. 2016. L’obolo di Persefone . Immaginario et ritualità dei pinakes di Locri. Bologna: ETS. Mehl, V. 2009. Le temps venu de la maternité. In L. Bodiou et V. Mehl (ed.) La religion des femmes en Gréce ancienne. Mythes, cultes et societé: 193-206. Rennes : Presse universitaire de Rennes. Meyer, M. 2017. Athena, Göttin von Athen. Kult und Mythos auf der Akropolis bis in klassische Zeit. Wien: Phoibos Verlag. Morizot, Y. 2004. Offrandes à Artémis pour une naissance. Autour du relief d’Achinos. In V. Dasen (ed.), Naissance et petite enfance dans l’Antiquité: Actes du colloque de Fribourg, 28 novembre – 1er décembre 2001: 159–170. Fribourg and Göttingen:  Academic Press Fribourg – Vandenhoek & Ruprecht Göttingen. Neils, J. 2009. Textile dedications to female deities. The case of peplos. In C. Prêtre (ed.) Le donateur, l’offrande et la deésse. Kernos Suppl. 23:135-147. Liège: Presse Universitaire de Liège. Öztepe, E. 2007. Zu den Formen der Liegefalten und eingeritzten Linien in der griechischen Plastik. In IstMitt 57: 251-264. Palagia O. and D. Lewis 1989. The ephebes of Erechtheis, 333/2 BC and their Dedication. In BSA 84: 333-344. Palagia , O. 2003. An imperial portrait from Aulis. In P. Noelke (ed.) Romanisation und Resistenz in Plastik, Architektur und Inschriften der Provinzen des Imperium Romanum. Neue Funde und Forschungen. Akten des VII. Internationalen Colloquiums über Probleme des Provinzialrömischen Kunstlschaffens, Köln 2 bis 6 Mai 2001: 537-546. Mainz am Rhein: Verlag Philipp von Zabern.

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Saatsoglou-Paliadeli, C. 2000. Queenly appearances at Vergina-Aegae. Old and new epigraphic and literary evidence. In AA: 387-403. Schmidt, I. 1995. Hellenistische Statuenbasen. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang. Schulze, H. 1998. Ammen und Pädagogen. Sklavinnen und Sklaven als Erzieher in der antiken Kunst und Gesellschaft, Mainz: Philipp von Zabern. Stais, V. 1891. Αγάλματα εκ Ραμνούντος. In ArhEph: 46-67. Stephanidou-Tiveriou, T. 2007. The Caryatid column of Nicopolis. A new Hadrianic find. In K.L. Zachos (ed.) Nicopolis B. Proceedings of the Second Nicopolis Symposium (Nicopolis 11-15 September 2002): 491-510. Preveza: Actia Nicopolis Foundation. Tracy, S.V. 1990. Attic Letter-cutters of 229 to 86 B.C. Berkeley: University of California Press. Weber, H. 1960. Zur Zeitbestimmung der Florentiner Niobiden. In JdI 75: 113-132. Wiegand, H. and H. Schrader 1904. Priene. Ergebnisse der Ausgrabungen und Untersuchungen in den Jahren 1895-1898. Berlin: Georg Reimer. Vikela, E. 2015. Apollo, Artemis, Leto. Eine Untersuchung zur Typologie, Ikonographie und Hermeneutik der drei Gottheiten auf griechischen Weihreliefs, ATHENAIA 7. München: Hirmer Verlag.

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The Nude Constantinople: Masterpieces of Greek Sculpture at Byzantium according to the Greek Anthology1 Carlos A. Martins de Jesus2 1 Dedicatur Constantinopolis2 omnium paene urbium nuditate. With these words Jerome (Chron. 324) chose to refer to the foundation of Constantinople, by stressing the act of denuding other cities to adorn the new capital, as well as the use of these cities’ own nudity (their pagan statues) to dress up the new capital, thus giving the latter an overall look of somehow sinful nudity. The truth is that, from even before its dedication in 330 until its sack by the Crusaders in 1204, Constantinople featured a unique collection of ancient sculptures unrivalled by anything to be seen in any other medieval city. Constantine’s initial artistic project was continued by his successors until the sixth century, when Justinian must have put an end to this practice.3

themselves the subject of the epigrams gathered by Planudes in the sixteenth century (nowadays printed in book XVI of the Greek Anthology), searching for the information these epigrams provide (as well as the one they do not), and their meaning for the above-mentioned subject. Hellenistic and Byzantine poets had a special interest in Greek sculpture, in the works of the most famous Greek artists, as it was the case for the emperors most committed to the transfer of such sculptures into Constantinople. Such epigrams, part of what recent scholars called culture of viewing,8 depend on a narrator that functions as the single authorized voice,9 as a tour-guide for the material referent (the work of art itself), describes, interprets and even completes it, leading his reader (or his audience) in the paths of a personal interpretation. Therefore, epigrams are not extensive descriptions of the objects – sometimes not even rigorous ones –, rather the testimony of a personal way of watching and understanding them, what Gutzwiller recently called ‘an experience of viewing art’.10

Scholars are now sure of the magnificent buildings and streets of the city in its first centuries, all of them adorned with the most exquisite and rare statuary, in different dimensions and positions, always intriguing the passer-by with both its beauty and its meaning. Such was the city, very close to the one portrayed by Eusebius (VC 3.54), a space of architectonical and sculptural ποικιλία (varietas), one of the most identifying traces of the new Byzantine taste; a completely different and, as Basset, ‘newly outfitted urban core of monumental architecture and sculpture’.4

Among the sculptural masterpieces mentioned in the epigrams collected by Planudes, other sources were able to prove the exhibition at the new capital of Pheidias’ Olympian Zeus, Praxiteles’ Knidian Aphrodite, Lysippos’ Kairos and Skopas’ Maenad, while the identifications of a Pheidian Athena and a Praxitelean Eros were (and still are) the object of discussion.

The second half of the twentieth century witnessed an increased interest on this subject, inaugurated mostly by Cyril Mango’s paper,5 which already emphasised other subjects, as it is the case for the religious conflict of the exhibition of pagan sculptures among a Christian context.6 As a result of a series of previous enquires,7 Sarah Bassett’s 2004 book offered a complete catalogue of the ancient (i.e. pre-Byzantine) sculptural works held at Constantinople in late antique centuries, both in public and private spaces. While Bassett’s book accurately comments the testimony of archaeology and the different written prose sources, it almost ignores the information that epigrammatic testimonies can offer. Therefore, I propose a review of the sculptural masterpieces that, surely or assumedly, have been held at Constantinople, as confirmed by other late Byzantine prose sources, that were

On Skopas’ Maenad, considered the model of the so-called Dresden Maenad,11 a first century BC marble of an unknown artist (Figure 1), Planudes and the epigrams he collected are the only testimonies available. By confronting the information provided by the epigrams with other known works of that fourth century BC Parian sculptor, scholars12 agreed on a female frenzied pose that aimed to capture a moment of Bacchic ecstasy, probably when killing a previously hunted animal.13 The four epigrams collected by Planudes (nos. 57-60) are headed by the lemma ‘On a Bacchant in Byzantium’, the very first reason for assuming the statue’s exhibition in Constantinople, at any unknown context. There was no reason to question information given by Planudes, as it was most probably collected in the garland of Cephalas. As for its identification with Skopas’ original, all but one of the epigrams stress the live-like aspect of the marble figure, she that has a maniac spirit inside (ἔκφρονα τὴν βάκχην; μανίην 57.1-2; ἐξέμηνε 60.2) and actually intents to escape from the

This paper is part of the postdoctoral project Greek Anthology. Transmission and translation, funded by the Fundação para a Ciência e Tecnologia/ Government of Portugal (Ref. SFRH/BPD/84291/2012). 2  UI&D Centre of Classical and Humanistic Studies, University of Coimbra 3  The artistic endowment of Constantinople with ancient art (mainly sculpture) can be divided in three periods: (1) between 324 and 330, under Constantine I, starting previous to the dedication of the city; (2) from 379, during the reign of Theodosius the Great, until 420, already under Theodosius II; and (3), in the sixth century, during the reign of Justinian. 4  Basset 2004: 17. 5  Mango 1963. 6  Cf. Saradi-Mendelovici, 1990; James 1996. 7  E.g. Guberti Bassett 1991, 1996, 2000; Mango et alii 1992. 1 

Cf. S. Goldhill 1994; K. Gutzwiller 2004; G. Zanker 2004. Apud Männlein-Robert 2007: 253. 10  Gutzwiller 2004: 361. 11  Firstly, by Treu 1905. On Skopas, see Stewart 1977, and Palagia 2007: 219. 12  Stewart 1977: 91-93, 140-141; Bassett 2004: 246; Barr-Sharrar 2013. 13  Treu 1905; Barr-Sharrar 2013: 331. 8  9 

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that leans forwards (προνένευκεν 59.3) and seeks to play her cymballa for no audience, knowing of her lack of talent. One is immediately taken to consider Agathias’ referent to be a different one – one ignored both by Cephalas and Planudes while placing the epigram in the same cycle –, but the truth is that he can actually be reporting to the same statue, while composing a poetic fiction upon it, far beyond describing it. Ekphrastic epigrams can provide yet further information, as it is the case for their authorship. Assuming Planudes’ ascriptions to be correct, Paulus Silentiarius, the author of num. 57 (and model of num. 58) – who probably died around 575-580 in Constantinople – fits chronologically with Agathias’ collection, even if they describe different statues. Therefore, one chance is that Planudes had already found the indication of the presence in Constantinople in his manuscript source – i.e. the very Agathias, as collected by Cephalas – or that he made the connection himself with a statue by his time still in the city. As for num. 60, one of the many Simonidea from the Greek Anthology impossible to ascribe to the late fifth-century singer of Plateas, the short dialogue willing no more than to identify the subject and the author of the sculpture might suggest the epigram’s inscription, more suitable to a replacement base of the statue, when transferred to another city, maybe Byzantium.15 If so, some epigrammatist or collector copied from the stone and unconsciously believe it to be Simonides’. Three masterpieces of the list above (Pheidias’ Olympian Zeus, Praxiteles’ Knidian Aphrodite and Lysippos’ Kairos) are to be analysed together, as written sources confirm their exhibition at the same space in Constantinople, the private but open to visitations Palace of Lausos.16 It was the private court of a chamberlain of Theodosius II, at least by 419-20, when Palladius’ Lausiac History addresses him as the ‘guardian of our godly and religious empire’, an extremely rich man that was therefore in a unique position to acquire for himself the cult statues that were being removed from the pagan temples of the empire.17 The historian Kedrenos, in the eleventh century, mentions this building first in the context of an encomium of Theodosius I, after his death in 395 (Kedrenos A), and then after the coronation of the usurper emperor Basiliskon, in 475 (Kedrenos B). Finally, later in the twelfth century, Zonaras grieves the loss of the statues that building held in consequence of the fire that consumed part of the city in the following year.

Figure 1. The Dresden Maenad. Marble, first cent. AD. Staatlische Kunstsammlungen um Albertinum Dresden, Skulpturensammlung. Inv. Hm 133. © Creative Commons.

Note that in the quarter of Lausos there used to be various buildings and certain hostels at the place where the [cistern of] Philoxenus provided its water, whence its name. There stood there also a statue of Lindian Athena, four cubits high, of emerald stone, the work of the sculptors Skyllis and Dipoinos, which Sesostris, tyrant

temple (οὐδὸν ὑπερθεμένη νηὸν ὑπεκπροφύγῃ 58.2). We are facing a true topic of Hellenistic and Byzantine ekphrasis, namely the existence of life within a statue made of stone14 (λαϊνέη περ ἐοῦσα, 58.1), a wonder for which only the artist is responsible, not the god. And these are the only three poems that must refer to a statue identifiable with Skopas’, as number 59 seems to describe a totally different statue, at some point wrongly assumed by Planudes or his source to be the same one. On the last-mentioned epigram, the sixth-century scholar that was also the responsible for one of the garlands used by Planudes as source, Agathias Scholasticus, talks about a shy and still inexpedient bacchant (βάκχην αἰδομένην 59.2)

On the subject of the transfer of statue-bases and their replacement, see Ma 2012. 16  The exact location of the Palace of Lausos in Constantinople is a matter of debate, although it is generally accepted that it was connected to the western flank of the Hippodrome by a rotunda, and was adjacent to the Palace of Antiochos. It was also very close to the Mese, the central thoroughfare of Constantinople, which led from the Augustaeum to the Golden Gate. On it, see Mango et alii 1992; Guberti Bassett 2000; Bassett 2004: 98-120. 17  Although Lausos was out of office by 422, he may have held it again in 431 (and possibly in 436). Therefore, it must have been during this decade that he acquired at least the Olympian Zeus and the Knidian Aphrodite. 15 

For an overview of the main topics of epigrammatic ekphrasis see Männlein-Robert 2007 (with bibliography). 14 

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of Egypt, once sent as a gift to Kleoboulos, tyrant of Lindos. Likewise the Knidian Aphrodite of white stone, naked, shielding with her hand only her pudenda, a work of Praxiteles of Knidos. Also the Samian Hera, a work of Lysippos and the Chian Bupalos; a winged Eros holding a bow, brought from Myndos; the ivory Zeus by Pheidias, whom Perikles dedicated at the temple of the Olympians; the statue representing Chronos, a work of Lysippos, bald at the back and having hair in front; unicorns, tigresses, vultures, giraffes, an ox-elephant, centaurs and pans. [Comp. Hist. 1.564 = Kedrenos A; transl. Mango et alii 1992]

information on these three masterpieces, while delaying the more polemical cases of Pheidias’ Athena and Praxiteles’ Eros, as their mention in the epigrammatic corpus is still an issue of debate. A single distich of Phillipus (num. 81), the first century AD collector of another poetic garland most probably also known to Planudes, refers to the ca. 43 ft. tall chryselephantine masterpiece of Pheidias for Olympia19 (Figure 2), developing the Hellenistic motif of the statue carved in the presence of the god-model. As the Planudean lemma states no more than ‘on a statue’, no secure information can be added to Kedrenos’ and Zonaras’ testimonies, since the epigram dates from a time when the statue had not been transferred to Constantinople yet. The same is the case for Lysippos’ Kairos20 (Figure 3), whose only epigram (num. 275, of Poseidippus) develops a dialogue between the statue and a passer-by willing to know who it represents. In the words of Gutzwiller, ‘it is only by giving it voice, by representing the statue conversing with a viewer, that Posidippus makes fully possible, through language, the visual representation of time in motion. Only by the addition of words, of verbal decipherment, does time move and Lysippos’ statue instructs.’21

When he [Basiliskos] had been proclaimed, there occurred a conflagration in the City which destroyed its most flourishing part. For it started in the middle of the Chalkoprateia and consumed both porticoes and everything adjacent to them and the so-called Basilica, in which there was a library that had 120.000 books. Among these books was a dragon’s gut 120 feet long upon which Homer’s poems, namely the Iliad and the Odyssey, were written in gold letters together with the story of the heroes’ deeds. [The fire] also destroyed the porticoes on either side of the street Mese and the excellent offerings of Lausos: for many ancient statues were set up there, namely, the famous one of the Aphrodite of Knidos, that of the Samian Hera, that of Lindian Athena made of a different material which Amasis, king of Egypt, had sent to the wise Kleobolus, and countless others. The fire extended as far as the Forum of the great Constantine, as it is called. [Comp. Hist. 1.616 = Kedrenos B; transl. Mango et alii 1992]

The example of Praxiteles’ Knidian Aphrodite, represented in Planudes’ garland by no less than twelve components (nums. 159-170)22 under the lemma ‘On the statue of the Knidian Aphrodite’, is proof enough, if no more, of its fame from Classical to Byzantine times. They all develop the already mentioned topic of the carving of the statue after seeing the actual goddess, the only possible (poetic) explanation for the realism achieved. This Aphrodite, nowadays identified as the model of the Ludovisi Knidian Venus (Figure 4),23 a Roman marble of the second century AD, was the original naked version of the goddess carved for the citizens of Kos but declined by them in exchange for a more dressed-up representation. The Knidians later bought the statue, where it became the reason for an intense cult and touristic activity.24 Planudes’ ascriptions are all to pre-Byzantine poets, namely Plato-the-Young (fourth cent. BC, nums. 160-161), Leonidas of Tarentum (third cent. BC, num. 166), Antipater of Sidon (second cent. BC, num. 167), Hermodorus (second cent. BC, num. 170), Evenus (second to first cent. BC, num. 165) and Lucianus (second cent. AD, num. 163). Therefore, only among the anonymous components (num. 159, 160b, 162, 168 and 169) could one search for a Byzantine epigram.

A great, consuming conflagration broke out in Constantinople, beginning in the Chalkoprateia and spreading to all the nearby areas and reducing the public portico and adjacent buildings to ashes, including the so-called Basilica where there was a library that housed 120.000 books. Among these books was a dragon gut measuring 120 feet with the poetry of Homer, the Iliad and the Odyssey, written in golden letters, which Malchos mentioned in writing of the emperors. The fire utterly destroyed this object and both the splendor in the city’s Lausos quarter and the statues set up there, the Samian Hera, the Lindian Athena and the Knidian Aphrodite, famous works of art. [Zonaras III.231; transl. Guberti Bassett 2000] Taking on hand the more detailed catalogue of Kedrenos A, clearly Zonaras’ source, and considering only the statues of Greek gods, neither the ‘Lindian Athena’ ascribed to the Cretan sculptors Skyllis and Dipoinos, nor the Samian Hera nor the so-called ‘winged Eros holding a bow, brought from Myndos’ – believed to be the work of Lysippos – have any kind of connection to Planudes’ garland, alongside the clear identifications of Pheidias’ Zeus, Praxiteles’ Knidian and Lysippos’ Kairos (called Chronos in that text). Using the passage as guided tour,18 I start by analysing the epigrammatic

book II of the Greek Anthology (see Martins de Jesus 2014, with bibliography), besides that of the Ekphrasis of Hagia Sophia that Paul Silentiarius wrote in the late sixth century, after the rebuilding of the temple, to be performed in the day of its dedication (in 563). In fact, the only manuscript that transmits the text clearly shows marginal annotations and other scenic indications intended for the actors (Cameron 2004: 327, 354 [esp. 347]). 19  Among the many references to it, see Rocha Pereira 2009; Davison 2009: 319-404. 20  On it, see Stewart 1978; Bassett 2004: 237-238; Prauscello 2006. 21  Gutzwiller 2002: 96. The statue was not a personification of time, as Gutzwiller’s statement might at a first glance suggest, but of the opportune moment. See Maderna 2004: 347. 22  Yet, none of them is mentioned by Bassett 2004: 233 as a source for the description of the statue. 23  For an overview of Praxiteles’ original and its reception in Antiquity see Havelock 1995: 9-38; Pasquier and Martinez 2007: 130201. See also Bassett 2004: 233 (with bibliography). 24  See Corso 2007.

I use the expression consciously in a wrong way, as Kedrenos was an example of the so-called universal chronicler. Nonetheless, the existence of such texts (both in prose and poetry) with touristic purposes is clearly attested. Cf. Kaldellis 2007: 368-371. That could have been the case for the large description of the gallery of statues held at the Zeuxippus thermae by Christodorus, transmitted in 18 

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Considering the Planudean practise of first copying the components closer to his time, followed by their models, number 159 could actually be a Byzantine composition.25 It develops the two main ekphrastic topics of the contemplation of the goddess and the empsychia of the statue (τίς λίθον ἐψύχωσε; τίς ἐν χθονὶ Κύπριν ἐσεῖδεν; 159.1). The second, in relation to the statue’s nudity, might have been the subject of Christian confrontation, which could have left marks in the epigrams, as in num. 160b, where the responsibility for carving the naked goddess is transferred to the chisel and detached from the artist’s pure eyes (Πραξιτέλης οὐκ εἶδεν, ἃ μὴ θέμις, ἀλλ’ ὁ σίδηρος/ ἔξεσεν). Yet, no concrete information is given in relation to the statue’s exhibition at the Lausos, as confirmed by Kedrenos and Zonaras. That Planudes, in the beginning of the fourteenth century, mentions it in the lemma simply as ‘a statue of Aphrodite’ (ἄγαλμα Ἀφροδίτης),26 can only support the paradigmatic role of the statue by his time. Furthermore, if it was actually destroyed by the fire that consumed the Lausos collection in 476, he and his manuscript sources might have never been aware of its presence in Constantinople.

Figure 2. The Olympian Zeus on his throne in the Temple of Zeus at Olympia. Drawing by Quatremère de Quincy 1814, fig. 1.

The final two sculptures mentioned by the Planudean garland, Praxiteles’ Thespian Eros and Pheidias’ Athena – not clear which one – can only indirectly be placed at Constantinople. Concerning the first of them – in no way related to the ‘winged Eros holding a bow [and] brought from Myndos’ mentioned by Kedrenos A, rather close to the model of the Centocelle Eros27 from the well-known Eros Farnese of Naples (Figure 5) –, only some scholars dared to suggest its exhibition at Constantinople, a possibility for which epigrams are once again the main source. Athenaeus (13.591a) quotes Planudes’ num. 204 as the epigram the very Praxiteles inscribed in

the base of his statue. It must have been the model for num. 203, by the sixth-century Prefect of Egypt Julian, which Corso, without further demonstration, thought to have been composed by Julian for the statue’s replacement base in Constantinople.28 Nonetheless, in relation to epigrammatic information, the question is more complicated. If, on the one hand, later references to the sculpture are known –Eustathius, for instance, praised it in the twelfth century (Ad Iliadem 2.1.498) –, on the other hand it is possible that Julian had seen the statue in one of his many official travels, for instance at the Temple of Aphrodite in Thespiae, where Leonidas’ epigram still places it in the third century BC (num. 206).

And, according to Aubreton-Buffière (1980) 2002: 143, ‘la plus simple’. 26  Nonetheless, the syllogue Σπ, a total of 56 epigrams copied by the tenth or eleventh century Palatinus Heidelbergensis gr. 23 (in appendix to the major collection of epigrams) has in the lemma the addition τῆς ἐν Κνίδῳ. 27  For a discussion of identification, see Corso 1997-98 (with bibliography). 25 

We are facing a case where epigrammatic sources were taken perhaps too literally, without considering other metatextual data. That is why I question Corso’s understanding of χαλκεύσας Corso 1997-98: 77. For the practise with bases for ancient statues in Constantinople see Ma 2012. 28 

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Figure 3. Kairos, after Lysippos. Roman marble relief. 2nd cent. AD. Torino, Museo di Antichità. © S. Sosnovskiy 2008.

Figure 5. The Eros Farnese (Centocelle type). Roman copy (and reconstruction). Second half of the 2nd cent. AD. Napoli, Museo Archeologico Nazionale Inv. 6353. © Creative Commons. (num. 203.4) as simply meaning ‘to shape’,29 in order to place the original sculpture (a marble) in Byzantium, as it might equally suggest Julian’s reference to an actual bronze statue, one of the several copies of the Praxitelan model that must have circulated. Furthermore, the large number of epigrams collected by Planudes on Praxiteles’ sculptures (mostly from Agathias’ garland) reinforces that artist’s rank in the market of Hellenistic culture and poetry, and consequently among Byzantine epigrammatists. The last case study listed at the beginning of this paper was that of an unidentified Pheidias’ Athena, the subject of a single epigram among Planudes’ collection (num. 157), once again Julian’s. Aretas’, Constantine the Rhodian’s (ninth century), Kedrenos’ (twelfth century) and Niketas Choniates’ (thirteenth century) descriptions

Figure 4. Ludovisi Cnidian Venus. Roman copy of the 2nd cent. AD (Restoration of the 17th century by sculptor Ippolito Buzzi. Rome, Roman National Museum, Palazzo Altemps. Inv. No. 8619. © Creative Commons.

29 

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Figure 6A. Athena wearing the aegis. Inscription: ΤΟΝ ΑΘΕΝΕΘ[Ε] Ν ΑΘΛΟΝ ΕΜΙ (‘I come from the prizes from Athens’). Black-figured Panathenaic amphora, ca. 566/65 BC. From Athens. British Museum, Inv. B130. © Creative Commons.

Figure 6B. The so-called Minerva d’Arezzo. Bronze and cooper. Probably from the 1st cent. AD. Restauration by F. Carradori (1785). Firenze, Museo archeologico Inv. 248 (ex. 3). © Creative Commons. meters high.34 Recently, Papamastorakis suggested the model of the so-called Minerva d’Arezzo in Florence (Figure 6B) as Niketas’ referent.35

all refer to a bronze statue that would have been destroyed in 1203 by a superstitious mob thinking that it was beckoning the crusaders who besieged the city. Scholars advocated for an identification of Julian’s referent and the ‘Lindian Athena’ mentioned by these sources with one of the famous Athenae of Pheidias, either the Parthenos or the Promachos.30 I am particularly interested in the mid-twentieth century efforts of Jenkins, who used the miniatures of two Byzantine manuscripts illustrating a statue of the goddess, no more than in the Promachos type (Figure 6A) defending the city from the invaders, to prove his thesis of the exhibition of the Pheidian bronze original at Constantinople.31 Nonetheless, as accurately concluded by Lundgreen,32 no irrefutable data can confirm this theory. Besides the absence of any mention to the shield – especially by Niketas (chap. 559-60), the more detailed account of the statue –, the aforementioned sources refer to it as standing on a base, also the case for the first manuscript analysed by Jenkins,33 a context that would be odd for a statue that, according to the preserved inscription, measured about 10

Going back to Julian’s epigram, the Prefect of Egypt that might actually have a personal affection to composing ekphrastic poetry on statues, it mentions the statue ‘armed in the middle of the citadel’ (κορύσσεαι ἄστεϊ μέσσῳ: 157.1), an expression that the French editor of the Planudean for the Budée collection read as meaning ‘Constantinople’.36 Once again, to cross the epigram’s metatextual data can be useful. If Pheidias’ original Athena (and it doesn’t actually matter which one) ever stood at the Forum of Constantine, would not Planudes (or his manuscript source), whose lemma places it in Athens (ἐν Ἀθήναις), be aware of it? He, who made sure to specify, in the lemma to num. 57, that Skopas’ Maenad stood in Byzantium? Both answers are equally probable, but not transcending the reading of the epigrams means to decide for the negative one, i.e., that it was any other statue, brought from Lindus and carved in bronze, not necessarily by a Pheidian model,37 the one destroyed by the furious mob at the first years of the thirteenth century.

For texts and the several critical approaches to them see Bassett 2004: 188-192. Linfert 1982 was the only one advocating identification with another Pheidian Athena, the Lemnia. See also Davison 2009: 283-286. 31  Jenkins 1947; idem 1951. 32  Lundgreen 1997: 195. 33  Jenkins 1947: 34 (plate X). 30 

Dinsmoor 1921: 118-129; Davison 2009: 279. Papamastorakis 2009: 219. Aubreton-Buffère (1980) 2002: 273. 37  Only Stichel 1988 rejected any kind of association with Pheidias or even a Pheidian model, standing for an archaizing work from Roman imperial art. 34  35  36 

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The guided tour this paper performed through some masterpieces of Greek sculpture certainly or possibly held at Constantinople, headed by the words of the epigrams that used them as referent for poetic composition, questions the methods for using epigrammatic sources when studying and placing Greek art in time and in space. When not mentioning the location of neither Pheidias’ Zeus, Praxiteles’ Knidian or Lysippos’ Kairos, Planudes (fourteenth cent.) and his manuscript sources, especially Cephalas (tenth cent.), appear to know nothing on the permanent exhibition at the Palace of Lausos, destroyed in 476 and therefore several centuries previous to them. On the other hand, while only the lemma for num. 57 mentions Constantinople, the others don’t sustain any reference to the exhibition at the new capital of the Empire of any Greek original. Therefore, it is possible that some of these epigrammatists were referring to other statues, carved by the original Greek model, or actually performing the ekphrasis of these models – by their times still very famous –, even if not seeing them directly when composing their poems.

Gutzwiller, K. 2004. Seeing trough: Timomachus’ Medea and ecphrastic epigram. In AJP 124: 339-386. Havelock, C. M. 1995. The Aphrodite of Knidos and her successors: a historical review of the female nude in Greek art. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. James, L. 1996. Pray not to fall into temptation and be your own guard: pagan statues in Christian Constantinople. In Gesta 35.1: 12-20. Kaldellis, A. 2007. Christodorus on the statues of the Zeuxippos baths: a new reading of the Ekphrasis. In GRBS 47: 361-383. Linfert, A. 1982. Athenen des Phidias. In Athenische Mitteilungen 97: 57-77. Lundgreen, B. 1997. A Methodological Enquiry: The Great Bronze Athena by Pheidias. In JHS 117:190-197 Ma, J. 2012. Travelling statues, travelling bases? Ancient statues in Constantinople. In ZPE 180: 243-249. Maderna, C. 2004. Die letzten Jahrzehnte der spätklassischen Plastik. In P. C. Bol, Die Geschichte der antiken Bildhauerkunst II. Mainz: 303-382. Mango, C. 1963. Antique statuary and the Byzantine beholder. In DOP 17: 53+55-75. Mango, C., M. Vickers and E.D. Francis 1992. The Palace of Lausos at Constantinople and its collection of ancient statues. In JournHistColl 4.1: 89-98. Männlein-Robert, I. 2007. Epigrams on art. Voice and voicelessness in ecphrastic epigram. In P. Bing, J. S. Bruss (eds.) Brill’s Companion to Hellenistic Epigram down to Philip: 251-271. Leiden, Boston: Brill. Martins de Jesus, C. 2014. The statuary collection held at the Baths of Zeuxippus (AP II) and the search for Constantine’s museological intentions. In Synthesis 21: 15-30. Papamastorakis, T. 2009. Interpreting the De Signis of Niketas Choniates. In A. Simpson, S. Efthymiadis (eds.) Niketas Choniates. A Historian and a Writer: 209-224. Geneva: La Pomme d’Or. Palagia, O. 2007. Skopas of Paros and the ‘Pothos’. In D.U. Schilardi and D. Katsonopoulou (eds.), Paria Lithos (Athens 2000): 219-225. Pasquier, A. and Martinez, J.-L. 2007. Praxitèle. Paris. Prauscello, L. 2006. Sculpted meanings, talking statues: some observations on the Posidippus 142.12 A-B (= XIX G-P) ΚΑΙ ΕΝ ΠΡΟΘΥΡΟΙΣ ΘΗΚΕ ΔΙΔΑϹΚΑΛΙΗΝ. In AJP 127: 511-523. Quatremère de Quincy, A.-C. 1814. Le Jupiter olympien, ou l’Art de la sculpture antique considérée sous un nouveau point de vue (…). Paris. Rocha Pereira, M. H. (2009), ‘O Zeus de Olímpia’, in Ribeiro Ferreira, J., Ferreira, L. N. eds., As sete maravilhas do mundo antigo. Fontes, fantasias e reconstituições. Lisboa: 69-77. Saradi-Mendelovici, H. 1990. Christian attitudes toward pagan monuments in Late-Antiquity and their legacy in later Byzantine centuries. In DOP 44: 47-61. Stewart, A. 1977. Skopas of Paros. Park Ridge, NJ: Noyes Pr. Stewart, A. 1978. Lysippan Studies 1. The only creator of beauty. In AJP 82.2: 163-171. Treu, G. 1905. Die Dresden Mänade. In Dresdner Jahrbuch 1905: 7-12. Zanker, G. 2004. Modes of Viewing in Hellenistic Poetry and Art. Madisson: University of Wisconsin Press.

Bibliography Aubreton, R., Buffière, F. (1980) 2002. Anthologie Grecque. Tome XIII. Anthologie de Planude. Paris: Les Belles Lettres. Barr-Sharrar, B. 2013. The Dresden Maenad and Skopas of Paros. In Ντ. Κατσωνοπούλον and A. Stewart. (eds.), Paros III. Ο Σκοπας και ο κοσμος του. Athens. Bassett, S. 2004. The Urban Image of Late Antique Constantinople. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Cameron, A. 2004. Poetry and literary culture in Late Antiquity. In S. Swain and M. Edwards (eds.) Approaching Late Antiquity: The transformation from early to late Empire: 327-354. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Corso, A. 1997-98. Love as suffering: the Eros of Thespiae of Praxiteles. In BICS 42: 63-91. Corso, A. 2007. The cult and political background of the Knidian Aphrodite. In E. Hallager, J. Jensen (eds.) Proceedings of the Danish Institute of Athens 5: 173-197. Davison, C. C. 2009. Pheidias. The Sculptures and Ancient Sources. BICS Supplement 105. Dinsmoor, William Bell. 1921. Attic building accounts. IV. The statue of Athena Promachos. In AJA 25.2: 118-129. Stichel, R. H. W. 1988. Eine Athena des Phidias in Konstantinopel? In Boreas 11: 155-164. Goldhill, S. 1994. The naive and knowing eye: ekphrasis and the culture of viewing in the Hellenistic world. In S. Goldhill and R. Osborne (eds.) Art and Text in Greek Culture: 197-223. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Guberti Bassett, S. 1991. The antiquities in the Hippodrome of Constantinople. In DOP 45: 87-96. Guberti Bassett, S. 1996. Historiae custos: sculpture and tradition in the Baths of Zeuxippos. In AJA 100: 491-506. Guberti Bassett, S. 2000. Excellent offerings: the Lausos collection in Constantinople. In ArtB 82: 6-25. Gutzwiller, K. 2002. Art’s Eco: the tradition of Hellenistic ecphrastic epigrams. In M.A. Harder, R.F. Regtuit and G.C. Wakker (eds.), Hellenistic Epigrams: 85-112. Leuven: Peeters.

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Ornaments or Amulets: A Peculiar Jewel on Dedicatory Statues Olympia Bobou The starting point of my paper is the depiction of a medallion on the chest of a statue of a girl, now at the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge (Fig 1). The statue dates from the second century BC, and was found in Cyprus during Cesnola’s exploration of the island’s sites.1 It shows a young girl seated on the ground with one flexed leg raised, wearing a short-sleeved chiton made of a fine, light material. Her hair is combed backwards and is gathered in a braid. She holds a duck in her right hand and a fruit in her left. She is also wearing jewelry: a bracelet in each wrist, and a medallion on the chest. The back of the statue is roughly worked; clearly the statue was meant to be placed against a wall, and seen only from the front.

and while the thickness of the bands suggests the fastening by fabric cords, it is just as likely that originally they were painted in gold or yellow, suggesting metal chains. In this paper, I will refer to the medallion as suspended by two separate chains or bands. This type of ornament, i.e. a medallion suspended by two chains or cords between the breasts, is less common than a medallion suspended by a single chain or cord and worn below the neck. I will first refer to some theories for its interpretation, and then explore its use, as well as its name. This ornament appears often in depictions of girls in Classical Athenian funerary monuments. Some of the best surviving examples show girls belonging to the same age-group (Fig 2).2 They are all adolescents. Their hair, either loose or uncovered, makes clear their unmarried status.

It is not clear whether the medallion was suspended by two criss-crossing bands or chains, or by a single band that was wrapped around the torso. It is carved only at the front,

Figure 1. Statue of girl, from Cyprus, second century BC. Cambridge, Fitzwilliam Museum inv. no GR.1.1917.

Figure 2. Statues of two young girls, from a funerary monument from Athens, ca 320 BC. New York, Metropolitan Museum of Art,Rogers Fund, 1944, 44.11.2, .3. For example, the stele of Silenis, Berlin, Antikenmuseen, inv. no 1492, ca. 350 BC: Clairmont 1993: cat. 1.862; a high-relief fragment now in Paris, Louvre, inv. no Ma 4505; and the statue of a young woman now in New York, Metropolitan Museum of Art, inv. no 44.11.2,3. 2 

Cambridge, Fitzwilliam Museum, inv. no GR.1.1917. Vassilika 1998: 94-95, no.45; Beer 1994: 85; http://data.fitzmuseum.cam.ac.uk/id/ object/68662 (consulted 19/1017). 1 

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They also wear a peplos with overfold together with a mantle fastened at the shoulders with two pins. The particular combination of peplos and back-mantle has been identified as the special costume worn by the young girls who served as basket-bearers in religious festivals (kanephoroi).3 The breast ornament and its peculiar fastening is then implicitly considered as part of the kanephoros’ festival ‘uniform’.

the wearer.9 Finally, a third body chain, again hooked on two medallions, on at the front and one at the back of the wearer, comes from Egypt and dates from the early seventh century.10 In fact, the body chain as an ornament can be seen in objects found as far away as Tillya Tepe, in Afghanistan. In a golden plaque that served as a pendant, a semi-naked female figure in a himation that can be seen over her shoulders and pools around her legs, wears a body chain hung loosely around her body.11 The same type of body chain can be seen in a similarly half-dressed figure, this time in an applique, probably from a hairpin.12 In both cases the figure can be identified with Aphrodite.13

In the same period and, often at the same region, however, the ornament appears also in statues or stelai depicting young girls, or young maidens who are not wearing the back mantle. The stele of Hagnostrate shows a young maiden with uncovered, long hair in a peplos with overfold but without the back mantle.4 The stele of Choregis shows a much younger girl, perhaps five to eight years of age, wearing exactly the same costume, but together with a himation wrapped around her shoulder and waist.5 A statue from the area of the Ilissos river, probably from the sanctuary of Eleithyia, shows an even younger girl, perhaps three or four years old, dressed in a chiton with overfold, while a statuary group from Eleusis shows two girls of different ages and sizes in a chiton and himation: both wear the same ornament, a medallion suspended by two cords between the breasts.6

The Tillya Tepe objects were created by craftsmen with knowledge of Graeco-Roman material culture.14 Aphrodite, in particular, was depicted with this type of body chain in Greek and Roman art. Two of the most famous examples come from Pompeii, and show the goddess wearing two long chains that, in the case of the statue of the so-called Venus in a Bikini are worn below the breasts and around the lower part of the body.15 In a fresco from the House of Mars and Venus, they are worn between the breasts but fall low on the hips.16

These examples make clear that, even if the back mantle was used in classical Athenian iconography to denote a basket-bearer, the medallion over the chest was not part of her festival costume. Instead, it has to be understood as an ornament that could be worn by young girls of different age groups.

Such images have led scholars to identify the particular type of body chain that emphasizes the shape of the female body by highlighting the breasts and hips, with the kestos himas (κεστός ιμάς ποικίλος), the embroidered girdle of Aphrodite mentioned in the Iliad: ‘She spake, and loosed from her bosom the broidered zone, curiously-wrought, wherein are fashioned all manner of allurements; therein is love, therein desire, therein dalliance—beguilement that steals the wits even of the wise.’17 The kestos himas, though, can be reconstructed either as a band of fabric embroidered with various symbols of the goddess’ power, or as a chain or cord with hanging charms.18

Finally, for other scholars what is important is the fastening on criss-crossing bands, which may have had a practical function, that of keeping the dress in place. The cords are then identified with the μασχαλιστήρ, a band that passes under the armpits.7 Apart from a practical function, the criss-crossing bands across the chest also had symbolic and social meaning.

The comparison with Aphrodite’s girdle has made scholars suggest that criss-crossing bands in depictions of girls and women, is more than a practical way of fastening the garment, but can also signal the girls’ potential fertility and charm.19 It can also symbolically bind and control girls’ sexuality until the time of marriage.

Criss-crossing bands have a long history. They appear in the classical period, but they continued to be in use long after the fall of the Roman Empire. In the Roman period and late antiquity, especially, they were widely diffused. There are several imperial period examples of terracotta figurines from the Fayum in Egypt that show a woman with abundant hair dressed in a chiton with overfold and wearing two criss-crossing chains with a medallion under the middle of the breasts. The figures have narrow torsos and waists, but wide hips; the medallion draws attention to the breasts as it frames them, while the lower chains emphasize further the wide, good for child-bearing, hips of the figure.8 Another ornament with four hooks holding two chains in place comes from Hoxne in Suffolk. It dates from the late fourth century AD and it too would have created a frame for the breasts of

The statue of the little girl from Cyprus, however, is the only one where we see a child wearing a medallion decorated with a gorgon’s head. The gorgoneion was the ultimate apotropaic symbol in the ancient world. The Gorgon’s fixed gaze and her London, British Museum, inv. no 1994,0408.1: Johns 2003: 13, figs 2.3 and 2.4. 10  London, British Museum, inv. no 1916,0704.1: Johns 2003: 14, fig. 2.5. 11  Hiebert and Cambon 2008: cat. no 137. 12  Hiebert and Cambon 2008: cat. no 60. 13  Boardman 2015: 112-113. 14  Boardman 2015: 110-115. 15  Naples, Museo Archeologico Nazionale, inv. no 152798 : Pompeji 1973: 142, no. 199. 16  Naples, Museo Archeologico Nazionale, inv. no 9248: Ranieri Panetta 2004: 203. 17  Hom. Il. 14.214-217: http://data.perseus.org/citations/urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0012.tlg001. perseus-eng1:14.193-14.241. 18  For the kestos himas see Faraone 1999: 97-100. 19  Roccos 2000: 246. 9 

Roccos 1995: 641-666. Athens National Museum inv. no. 1836, ca 320 BC: Kaltsas 2002: cat. no 417. 5  Clairmont 1993: cat. no 0.911. 6  Bobou 2015: cat. no. 30. 7  S.v. ‘maschalister’ Liddel and Scott 1940: http://www.perseus.tufts. edu/hopper/text?doc=Perseus%3Atext%3A1999.04.0057%3Aalphabe tic+letter%3D*m%3Aentry+group%3D17%3Aentry%3Dmasxalisth%2Fr 8  For example, London, British Museum, inv. no 1926,0930.42: Johns 2003: 12, fig. 2.1. 3  4 

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frightening form could drive away evil.20 For people, the best way of ensuring protection was to carry the depiction of the gorgon’s head. The easiest way would be to have this image in an object that could be worn or carried around by the wearer all the time. A stone set in a ring was ideal for that, as it would provide their owner with constant protection against evil.21 A ring, however, was primarily a masculine attribute in the classical and Roman world, especially one that also functioned as a seal.22 Glass beads or medallions fastened on chains or cords were more appropriate for women, and there are several examples of jewelry which incorporated gorgoneia as part of the decoration or made it the focus of attention. In particular, a necklace from the second century AD, now at the Benaki Museum, shows how one could combine protective amulets: the chain is hooked on the medallion with the gorgon’s head, while a small medallion with a bust of Isis is suspended on the other side.23 The Gorgon’s image could also serve as a metaphor for specific problems, as a second-third century AD sardonyx intaglio in a later setting shows. On one side there is Perseus with the decapitated Gorgon’s head, on the other an inscription that says: ‘Run away, gout, for Perseus is after you!’ Instead of offering protection from gout, the gorgon is equated with the disease, and the wearer of the stone could then scare the gout, by reminding it of its enemy (i.e. Gorgon’s enemy, Perseus).24 Figure 3. Chous, from Athens, ca 420 BC. New York, Metropolitan Museum of Art, Rogers Fund, 1906, 06.1021.201.

When it came to protecting children amulets were often worn suspended by a chain or cord worn across the chest or the neck. The best-known examples come from Athenian choes, where the boys are often seen wearing a band across the chest with several amulets (Figure 3). They also appear in votive statues of children from Cyprus, the so-called templeboys.25 On one of the statues the boy wears a series of amulets, including one similar to the depiction of the Egyptian god Bes that was thought to protect children from evil.26 He is also wearing basket-shaped amulets, an amulet common to several statues (Figure 4).27 That had been interpreted as representations of the liknon, or winnowing basket, but also the cradle, that purified and promoted growth, as well as phallic-shaped amulets.28 If the meaning of the basketshaped amulets is not clear, the phallus is a well-established apotropaic symbol, and similar amulets are worn by several of the ‘temple-boys.’29 The gorgoneion on the medallion of the girl from Cyprus also has an apotropaic function. The medallion itself can be connected to the practice of putting amulets on children, as shown in choes or votives statues, where they are shown Dutsch and Suter 2015: 30. Boardman 1970: 186m pl. 407. 22  Boardman 1970: 236; Nevett 1999: 179: but see also Lee 2015: 151152. 23  Ballian et al. 1999: 262 cat. no 98. 24  See https://www.hermitagemuseum.org/wps/portal/hermitage/ digital-collection/18.+Carved+Stones/1069208/?lng=en: 25  For choes see Hamilton 1992; for Cypriot votives see Beer 1994. 26  London, British Museum inv. no 1917,0701.125: Beer 1994: 52-53, cat. no 175, pl. 177, a-d. 27  As for example in a statue now at New York, Metropolitan Museum of Art, inv. no 74.51.2764. 28  For this interpretation of the basket-shaped amulet see Harrisson 1962: 4. 29  Beer 1994: 31. 20  21 

Figure 4. Statue of young boy, from Cyprus, late fifth century BC BC. New York, Metropolitan Museum of Art,The Cesnola Collection, Purchased by subscription, 1874–76, 74.51.2764.

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hung by bands or chains across the chest.30 As an object that can also be connected with female attractiveness, it seemed that was more suitable for a female than a male child.

evil eye on someone, seems to denote a more specific form of evil, one connected to the second meaning of the verb: to malign or envy. Thus, their placement on workshop entrances or on trees would have been protected the locations from the envious glances of passersby. This was in contrast to amulets, that could have either a general protective function, or they could be used as aids to bring a desired outcome.

This does not mean that all undecorated medallions were amulets, perhaps with a gorgoneion painted over their surface and now gone, but, it is probable that this was their most likely function, at least when it was connected to girls of different age groups. Its function was probably to ward off evil, and protect the wearer.

It is likely, however, that the amulet worn by the little girl could be named as well according to its shape that was round, like a shield.

The name of the object is also of interest and reveals ancient Greek attitudes towards classifying everyday objects. It can be named according to its function, as for example, in English it is called an amulet. The word amulet comes from the Latin amuletum, which is a general term for objects offering protection. For example, it first appears in Pliny in a discussion of the plant Tamus Communis, better known as black bryony (NH 23.14), but the amulet function is more obvious in his discussion of the use of amethysts by Magi: hanging from the neck to protect from evil, or activated through spells (NH 37.124).

Aspidiskai, small shields often appear in inventories of objects dedicated to goddesses. The term, though, refers both to miniature warriors’ shields, or to jewelry shaped like shields. For example, in an inventory of dedications to Athena that were placed in the Parthenon, dating from 374/3 BC, we find the following objects: ‘… Gorgoneion gold with silver underneath gilded, from the shield that [was] in the temple. Four small gold-plated, with silver underneath, shields. Iron akinakes (Persian sword) with a golden hilt, the scabbard of ivory set in gold, and gold pyglion. Two smooth gold-plated shields. A third shield goldplated with a gorgoneion.’37

In Greek, though, there is a variety of names: the most common is periamma or periapton: something tied around the body, or the neck. The word phylakterion, so, something used for protection, can be used together with periamma, as in Dioscurides’ discussion of selenites lithos (‘moonstone’ or ‘moonfoam’, a type of mica), where he writes that women tie it around themselves as an amulet.31

In this case, the shields described are probably small, warriors’ shields. The presence of the Persian sword and scabbard together with the shields makes this interpretation likely. In other cases, though, the term refers to jewelry in shieldor disc-form, dedicated together with other pieces of jewelry and objects, as in this list of objects from Delos, from 278 BC:

The connection between amulets and women is common in ancient authors. Dioscurides also writes of two more stones used as amulets, jasper and eagle stone, both used by women in order to have a quick and painless childbirth.32 Diodorus writes of the women of Crete who make amulets, possibly activated through incantations, in the name of Herakles, a Cretan hero who was later assimilated to Herakles, son of Zeus.33 The most famous example associating women with amulets, though, is in Plutarch’s Life of Perikles. Perikles, too ill to speak, shows ‘the amulet that the women had hung round his neck, as much as to say that he was very badly off to put up with such folly as that.’34

‘We have received from the hieropoioi.... Necklace the socalled of Eriphyle golden... Small shield and two rouge pots and gold necklaces…. Six golden rings…. Two small signets with gems unweighted. Eight golden Persian coins….. Five golden pomegranates and an apple and leaves, unweighted. An unweighted golden vine. A signet of emerald tied with a cord of gold, the dedication of Apollodoros, unweighted. A chain of amphoras on which Triptolemos and flowers and a small shield and earrings and stlegis, all golden…’38

It seems that, like in other aspects of household religion, women were in charge of protecting the children through the creation of makeshift or the purchase of more expensive amulets.35 The evidence from Athenian choes and Cypriot votive statues shows that this was more likely to happen in the early years of their life, when children were at their most vulnerable.

Furthermore, the inscriptions mention small shields with various decorations on them, as the gorgon’s head mentioned earlier in the Parthenon inventory. In some cases, the context makes it clear that the texts refer to shield-like jewelry, as opposed to small, ornamental, or parade, warriors’ shields, as for example, in this list of objects from the Parthenon, dating after 341/340 BC:

These amulets should also be separated from the vaskania, objects made by working men in order to ward off evil in their fields or workshops.36 Βασκαίνω (vaskaino), to cast the

‘Nausistrate golden small shields…. Gold necklace…. Teisikrateia golden small shield close to the column, where the deer, unweighed…. A golden strigil unweighted….’39 Or in this inventory from Eleusis, dating from 333/332 BC:

For example statue of seated boy from Idalion, London, British Museum inv. no. 1872,0816.20: Beer 1994: 45, cat. no 171, pl. 41, a-d. 31  Dsc 5.162; Stern 2009: 57. 32  Dsc 5.160-161. Riddle 1985:. 159-162. 33  D.S.5.64. 34  Cf Plb. 33.17: where men suffering from chronic diseases without seeing any improvement in their condition also turn to amulets. 35  Faraone 2008 and Boedeker 2008. 36  Ar. Fr. 542; Str. 16.4.17. 30 

‘A golden circular ring…. Small golden shield, and golden ring, unsmelted gold tied with a silver cord, two broken rings, three IG II² 1421. IG XI,2 161. 39  IG II² 1517. 37  38 

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golden crescent-shaped ornaments, three rings unsmelted, golden circular rings of white gold, another broken of white gold....’40

to be worn by a young bride, bringing her some of Aphrodite’s charm. One could probably buy this type of jewelry by asking for an aspidiske, however, one could then use it in different ways, which made it into a periapton or a phylakterion, depending on the person who used it.

Of particular interest are the small-shield dedications of queen Stratonike, listed in an inventory from Delos, perhaps from 196 BC: ‘Small shields of ivory, dedications of queen Stratonike, dressed in gold, these two have chains.’41 Another dedication, of Aristeas, from Lagina: ‘Aristeas, son of Aristeus dedicated chains together with a small shield,’ is equally important.42

The body-chain, when worn loosely around the body had erotic connotations, and was especially connected with Aphrodite. As an object it was probably suitable for married women, or courtesans.

These shields with chains immediately bring to mind surviving or depicted body chains. Another inscription, from Perge, focuses on the way that the shields might have been fastened on the chain or cord: ‘A small shield of gold with a hook, on which there is the face of Artemis, the dedication of Cleopatra…. A small shield with the face of Artemis and a hook weighing two golden, the dedication of Or[…]das son of Euvios.’43 A hook would have been a suitable way of hanging a pendant from a chain, but it could also be used with two crisscrossing chains or cords.

A single band or chain wrapped around the body, or two bands or chains criss-crossing the torso, and worn tightly against the chest was more appropriate for girls of all ages. The medallion secured on the bands or fastened to the chains could have an ornamental function, or could even be used as a charm, when used by married women. When it was used by young girls it then had an apotropaic function. The combination of tightly worn chains or bands around the chest and the medallion created a powerful image: that of a potential bride who was still untouchable, whose sexual powers had to be kept under control, and who had to be protected from evil. In an Apulian vase, the contrast between Hera and Iris, the married and the unmarried woman, is made obvious by the artist’s choice of garments: Hera wears a chiton that was easily loosened so she could breastfeed Herakles. Iris, on the other hand, wears a band tightly around her chest. Iris is a desirable young girl, Hera is a desirable woman.48

This means that the small shields with gorgon’s heads in the inventory from Delos dating from 166-157 BC could refer either to a small warrior’s shield, but also to a shield-shaped ornament: ‘…Two small shields having faces of gorgons, in the one are attached wings and interwoven tales, in the other there is a wing and two interwoven tails…’44     The evidence for the various small-shield jewels (with chains, decorated with deer, or heads of Artemis), show that the small medallion, with or without the gorgon’s head, was possibly also called ‘small shield,’ aspidiske.

And if a desirable young female goddess such as Iris needed to be protected, how much more mortal young girls needed to be? An amulet offered just this extra level of protection, especially one placed at the crucial area of the breasts.

What is also interesting is that this is the only name that appears in inscriptions, i.e. formal documents, from the archaic period to late antiquity. The words periapton or periamma never appear, while the word phylakterion has a very limited use: one inscription from Lydia, from the 1st c AD, and in three texts from Egypt that all refer to ritual objects.45 So, aspidiske was probably the ‘official’ name of this type of ornament, regardless of its use.

Abbreviations ID Inscriptions de Délos I.Eleusis Clinton, K. 2005-2008. Eleusis, the inscriptions on stone: documents of the Sanctuary of the Two Goddesses and public documents of the Deme. Athens : Archaeological Society at Athens.

Two golden disks from Delos perhaps can show us what the actual ornaments looked like.46 They have been identified as parts of hair nets, however a hairnet had to have multiple hooked elements for the net to be fastened around the medallion.47 These two disks have four hooks each that are comparable in location to the ones in the central breast ornament of the body chain found at Hoxne.

IG Inscriptiones Graecae IvPerge Şahin, S. 1999, 2004. Die Inschriften von Perge. Inschriften griechischer Städte aus Kleinasien 54 and 61. Bonn 1999, 2004. Lagina McCabe, Donald F. Lagina Inscriptions. Texts and List.

The depiction of Aphrodite in the Delos examples would have made them suitable ornaments for a girl of marriageable age, or perhaps they too, like the chain from Hoxne, were meant

Pompeji 1973 Pompeji: Leben und Kunst in den Vesuvstädten: 19. April bis 15. Juli 1973 in Villa Hügel, Essen. Recklinghausen: A. Bongers.

I.Eleusis 158. ID 385. 42  Lagina 45. 43  IvPerge 11:99,2. 44  ID 1413. 45  After relevant searches at http://inscriptions.packhum.org. 46  Delos Archaeological Museum inv. nos 10331 and B10331: Hadjidakis 2003: figs 350-351. 47  Cf. hairnet at Benaki Museum: Ballian et al. 1999: 207, cat. no 69. 40  41 

Apulian vase: London, British Museum inv. no 1846,0925.13: http://www.britishmuseum.org/research/collection_online/collecti on_object_details.aspx?objectId=463602&partId=1&searchText=1846 %2c0925.13&page=1 (consulted 2/4/18). For other mythological figures shown with criss-crossing bands over the chest see Roccos 2000: 245-47. 48 

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Bibliography

Kaltsas, N. 2002. Sculpture in the National Archaeological Museum, Athens. Los Angeles: J. P. Getty Museum. Lee, M. M. 2015. Body, Dress, and Identity in Ancient Greece. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Nevett, L.C. 1999. House and society in the ancient Greek world. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ranieri Panetta, M. 2004. Pompeii: the history, life and art of the buried city. Vercelli: White Star. Riddle, J.M. 1985. Dioscorides on Pharmacy and Medicine. Austin : University of Texas Press. Roccos, L. 1995. ‘The Kanephoros and Her Festival Mantle in Greek Art.’ American Journal of Archaeology 99: 641-666. Roccos, L. 2000. ‘Back - Mantle and Peplos: The Special Costume of Greek Maidens in 4th - CenturyFunerary and Votive Reliefs’. Hesperia 69: 235-265. Stern, M. 2009. ‘Glass coffins and other transparent riddles’. In J. Koen et al (eds), Annales Du 17e Congrès D’Associationi Internationale Pour L’histoire Du Verre: 55-59. Antwerp: ASPEDITIONS. Vassilika, E. 1998. Greek and Roman Art. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Ballian, A. et al. 1999. Greek jewellery from the Benaki Museum Collections. Athens : Adam Editions. Beer C. 1994. Temple boys: a study of Cypriot votive sculpture. Jonsered : P. Aströms. Boardman, J. 1970. Greek gems and finger rings: early Bronze Age to late Classical. London: Thames & Hudson. Boardman, J. 2015. The Greeks in Asia. London: Thames and Hudson. Bobou, O. 2015. Children in the Hellenistic Period. Statues and Representation. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Boedeker, D. 2008. ‘Household Religion in Ancient Greece’. In J. Bodel and S.M. Olyan, Household and Family Religion in Antiquity: 229-247. Oxford: Blackwell. Clairmont, C.W. 1993. Classical Attic Tombstones. Kilchberg, Switzerland : Akanthus. Dutsch, D. and A. Suter (eds). 2015. Ancient Obscenities: Their Nature and Use in the Ancient Greek and Roman Worlds. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press. Faraone, C. 2008. ‘Family Matters: Domestic Religion in Classical Greece’. In J. Bodel and S.M. Olyan, Household and Family Religion in Antiquity: 210-228. Oxford: Blackwell. Oxford: Blackwell. Faraone, C. 1999. Ancient Greek Love Magic. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Hadjidakis, P. J. 2003. Delos. Athens: Latsis Group. Hamilton, R. 1992. Choes and anthesteria: athenian iconography and ritual. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Harrisson, J. E. 1962. Epilegomena to the Study of Greek Religion. New Hyde Park, N. Y. : University Books., Hiebert, F. and P. Cambon. 2008. Hidden Afghanistan: hidden treasures from the National Museum, Kabul. Washington, D.C.: National Geographic Society. Johns, C. 2003. ‘Body-chains: Hellenistic to Late Roman.’ In C. Entwistle (ed.) Through a glass brightly: studies in Byzantine and medieval art and archaeology presented to David Buckton: 10-15. Oxford: Oxbow.

Online Resources: Fitzwilliam Museum, inv. no GR.1.1917: http://data.fitzmuseum.cam.ac.uk/id/object/68662 Hermitage gem: https://www.hermitagemuseum.org/wps/portal/hermit age/digital-collection/18.+Carved+Stones/1069208/?lng= en:‘maschalister’: Liddel and Scott 1940: http://www.pers eus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Perseus%3Atext%3A1999 .04.0057%3Aalphabetic+letter%3D*m%3Aentry+group%3 D17%3Aentry%3Dmasxalisth%2Fr London, British Museum, Apulian Vase inv. no. 1846,0925.13: http://www.britishmuseum.org/research/collection_onl ine/collection_object_details.aspx?objectId=463602&part Id=1&searchText=1846%2c0925.13&page=1 Searchable Greek Inscriptions: http://inscriptions.packhum.org/

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Architecture

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Greek Emporios in Chios: The Archaeological Data from the Excavations of the Last Decades1 Kokona Roungou and Eleni Vouligea important archaeological evidence came to light, especially in the area southwest of the harbour. In this region, the excavation at the so-called Vasili’s plot would prove to be significant,6 due to its location (Figure 1), at the boundary between the prehistoric settlement and the Archaic Sanctuary:7 investigation at the site, carried out between 2002 and 2006, revealed the continuity of the architectural remains of the Sanctuary, Archaic sculptures – such as two statues of kouroi – and also important data regarding the presumable succession of the Late Bronze Age and Early Iron Age layers at the Emporios.

In1the early 1950s, the British School at Athens began archaeological surveys on the coastal site of Emporios, at the south-east part of the island of Chios.2 The remains that were preserved on the surface of the unconstructed landscape of Emporios,3 and the topography of the site, i.e. the natural moorage, the lowland and the low hills, provided sound indications for the presence of antiquities in the area. The systematic excavations that followed, under the general direction of Sinclair Hood, brought to light a unique archaeological complex with a long history and useful material for the study of the archaeology of Chios: in the harbour area, a prehistoric settlement with uninterrupted habitation from the Late Neolithic to the Late Bronze Age, and a sanctuary of the Late Geometric and Archaic periods were uncovered, while at the adjacent hill of Prophet Elias a settlement of the Early Historical times, with a walled acropolis and a temple, was investigated. The excavations of the prehistoric settlement were conducted under the general supervision of Sinclair Hood, while the excavations of the so-called Harbour Sanctuary and the settlement at the Prophet Elias hill were carried out by the young, at that time, archaeologist John Boardman. A few years later the results of these archaeological excavations were published by the excavators in fundamental to this day monographs.4

During the 1950s, eight trenches in total excavated in the plain to the west of the harbour, revealed successive architectural building remains and votive deposits, based upon which the excavator, J. Boardman, recognized six consecutive periods (Periods I-VI). To the earliest ones, (Periods I and II), dated from the Late Geometric to the third quarter of the 7th century B.C., belonged two parallel walls – walls α and β – which, according to the excavator, probably defined a passage. The two walls were abandoned shortly before the middle of the 7th century (Period III), when a strong, circular retaining peribolos (wall δ) was constructed in order to define the plateau of the Sanctuary from the sea side, and the old passage was replaced by a wide, stone staircase. Towards the end of the 7th century, or a little later (Period IV), the now old peribolos (wall δ) was renewed and reinforced with a second retaining enclosure (wall ζ), built in an almost parallel direction to the older one. This peribolos, which, according to the excavator, signified the peak of the Sanctuary, remained in use, while receiving repair works and extensions, until after the middle of the 6th century B.C. (Period V). Worship continued uninterruptedly throughout the 6th century (Period VI), and at the beginning of the 5th century an apsidal cult building of Ionic order was built on the demarcated plateau. Its crepidoma incorporated building material, in which Boardman recognized parts of an earlier cult building – dating back to the middle of the 6th century – that probably stood in the same place.8

Several years after the initial excavation, investigations at Emporios started again under the direction of the 20th Ephorate of Prehistoric and Classical Antiquities.5 During this period new We would like to express our deepest gratitude to our colleagues Maria Christeli, Anna Tsagarelli and Lena Makrelli for the drawings, to John Oikonomou and Nagia Baklatzi for the photographs, as well as to Mina Mantika and John Lagoutaris for the conservation of the finds. We are also most deeply grateful to Nota Kourou, Professor of Archeology at the University of Athens, as well as to Irene Lemos, Professor of Classical Archaeology and Fellow of Merton College, Oxford, for their valuable suggestions on pottery and dating issues. The translation of the text is attributed to our colleagues Maria Sitara, Dr Kosmas Dafas and Dr Eleni Poimenidou. We are also most grateful to the British School at Athens for the permission to reproduce some topographic drawings from the 1950s excavations. 2  At the same period, the British School at Athens conducted surveys at the town of Chios (Anderson, J.K. 1954. ‘Excavations on the Kofina ridge.’ BSA 49: 123-182), and also at Delfinion and Pindakas (Boardman, J. 1956. ‘Delphinion in Chios.’BSA 51: 41 ff; Boardman, J. 1958/59. ‘Excavations at Pindakas in Chios.’ BSA 53/54: 295 ff). Significant research however had already been conducted by the British School earlier, at the 1930s: at that time W. Lamb continued the research of K. Kourouniotis at Kato Fana, at the sanctuary of Phanaeus Apollo (Κουρουνιώτης, Κ. 1915. ‘Ἀνασκαφαί καί Ἔρευναι ἐν Χίῳ.’ArchDelt 1: 64-93;Κουρουνιώτης, Κ. 1916. ‘Ἀνασκαφαί καί Ἔρευναι ἐν Χίῳ.’ArchDelt 2: 190-216; Lamb 1934-1935: 138-163, pl. 27-37), while in 1938, E. Eccles performed the first surveys at the cave of Ayio Gala (Ecless, Ε. 1939. JHS 59: 203). 3  On the topography of Emporios see Boardman 1967: xi, pl. 1, 2 b – c; Yalouris 1976: 184; Hood 1981: 84-85. 4  Boardman 1967; Hood 1981: 83 ff; Hood 1982. 5  Τσαραβόπουλος, Α. 1984. ‘Εμποριό. Οικόπεδο Ντούλη.›Χιακά 1 

Apart from the building remains of the periods recognized by J. Boardman, the continuation of the Sanctuary to the south, uncovered at the Vasili’s plot (Figure 2), also revealed an element that undoubtedly registers the Emporios Sanctuary in the tradition of the great Greek Sanctuaries, and especially those of Eastern Greece: as happened in the Heraion of Samos,9 Χρονικά: 116; Τσαραβόπουλος, Α. 1985. ‘Εμποριό. Οικόπεδο Ντούλη.›Χιακά Χρονικά: 77; Αρχοντίδου, Α. 1986. ‘Εμποριό. Οικόπεδο Ντούλη.›ArchDelt 41: 198; Αχειλαρά, Λ. 1987. ‘Εμποριό. Οικόπεδο Μπαχά.›ArchDelt 42: 475, pl. 283a. 6  Ρούγγου 2012: 133-144. 7  Hood 1981: 86-87, fig. 47-48. 8  Boardman 1967: 52-98, pl.11c–18. 9  Walter, H. 1976. Das Heraion von Samos. Ursprung und Wandel eines griechischen Heiligtums. Zürich: Piper and Co; Kyrieleis, H. 1981. Führer durch das Heraion von Samos. Athen: Krene Verlag. – For the Late Bronze Age remains and the cult activity which probably took place

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Figure 1. Topographic plan of Emporio’s peninsula and harbour with the excavation trenches of the British Archaeological School at the beginning of the 50’s. The site of the Vasili’s plot is noted.

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Figure 2. Topographic plan of the lowland area on the west of the harbour: noted are the excavated remains from the first excavation trenches of the Sanctuary, along with their continuation as revealed at the Vasili’s plot.

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Figure 3. Drawing of the building remains that were revealed at the Vasili’s plot. the Artemision of Ephesus,10 the Aeolian Sanctuary of Klopedi at Lesbos11 and elsewhere, the temenos seems to have been founded upon the remains of the Mycenaean period, which were discovered in the lowest archaeological layer of the Vasili’s plot,12 and are certainly connected to the adjacent Late Helladic settlement, which was excavated by S. Hood in the 1950s. During the excavations of that period, on the top and the west slope of the low coastal hill, over the building remains of the Early and Middle Bronze Ages, Hood investigated the remains of a Late Bronze Age settlement, where it appears that the Mycenaeans settled during the LH IIIC period.13 The Late-Helladic layer of the Vasili’s plot (Figure 3), which was discovered almost at sea level and continued for approximately 0,40m above it, contained fragmentarily preserved walls (6 and 7), wheel-made and handmade pottery at the lowest level (Figure 4), while at a higher level it provided a limited amount of sherds with painted decoration. Although the pottery of this layer has not yet been conserved, and therefore any dating would be arbitrary, however, among the wheel-made examples of the lowest level, some fragments of conical cups, similar to those found by Hood at the Sanctuary during that time see Walter 1963: 286287; Niemeier – Kouka 2010: 112-114. 10  Kerschner 2006: 366-370. Kerschner et al. 2008: 33, with bibliography. 11  The Aeolian Sanctuary of Klopedi at Lesbos was discovered at the beginning of the last century by the Figure 4. Pottery examples of the LH layer from the Vasili’s plot. ex-director of the Ephorate of Antiquities D. Evangelidis. He excavated two cult buildings of Aeolic order dating back to the 6th century B.C. During the new excavations of 2010 in the in the earliest LH layers of Emporios, were identified.14 area of the Sanctuary, it became clear that the temples incorporated Respectively, among the pottery of the upper level, in their foundations older residential, cult and burial remains, their characteristic examples of painted pottery were detected date spanning from the 13th to the 7th century B.C. In fact, a clay during the excavation, such as kylikes, and flat handles statuette head that probably dates back to the LH IIIC period was with snake-like wavy lines, dating the layer to the LH IIIC found in a curvilinear building of the 8th century B.C, on top of which the late Archaic Temple of the Sanctuary was founded. - For period. Hood describes a similar succession of the Late the Aeolian Sanctuary of Klopedi see Ευαγγελίδης, Δ. 1928.’Ἀνασκαφή Helladic layers of trench F.15 Regardless, however, of the Κλοπεδής Λέσβου.’ Prakt: 126-137; Betancourt 1977: 82-87; see most recently Ρούγγου et al. 2014: 26-36, 58-60. 12  Ρούγγου 2012: 133-135, fig.3. 14  13  Hood 1982: 599-601, fig. 269. Hood 1981: 85-91, 147-164, pl. 26-28; Hood 1982: 579-622, pl. 11715  129; Hood 1986: 169-180. Hood 1981: 158-163; Hood 1986: 169-171.

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exact dating of the layer at the Vasili’s plot, the new finds testify that the settlement of this period at Emporios, aside the top, and the foot of the low hill, extended to much of the coastal lowland area as well. Finds from the LΗ period were not discovered under the first building phase of the Sanctuary during the excavations of the 1950s. The only find which J. Boardman identified with certainty as sub-Mycenaean, or somewhat posterior, was a wheel-made animal figurine, probably a horse, found in a deposition pit.16 He also distinguished sub-Mycenaean features in some figurines from the deposition pits; however, he considered their date in the 8th century more probable.17 As the date of the figurines at the end of the Mycenaean period is still under discussion,18 Hood did not exclude the existence of a cult at the site of the Sanctuary since the Mycenaean times.19 He found examples of female figurines, one of the Psi-type, dated in the LH IIIC period, as well as bull figurines of the Mycenaean period at the trenches of the adjacent prehistoric hill.20

Figure 5. Example from the shoulder and the stump of the neck of a closed Protogeometric vessel, probably of an oinochoe.

Hood’s hypothesis regarding the existence of a cult already in the Mycenaean era should not be ruled out, in light of the new evidence from the LH layer at the Vasili’s plot, and in conjunction with the finds of the overlying layer (Figure 3): the filling material of a stone-built staircase of the 8th century B.C. (Figure 7), which had been built upon the LH layer, consisted of pottery examples, which appear to date back to the Protogeometric period. The most representative among them are a fragment from the shoulder and the stump of the neck of a closed vessel with a decoration of a pair of concentric circles Boardman 1967: 188, nr.25, pl. 73 - The schematic modelling of the Emporios figurine, with its flat discshaped buttock, is also seen in severalwheel-made animal figurines of the sub-Mycenaean period, found in Sanctuaries such as that of Amyclae at Sparta, in Philakopi, as well as a Sanctuary at the site of Iraklis in Kos (Δημοπούλου 1982: 57-60, nr. 70-70α, pl.28-29; Renfrew 1985: 248, nr. SF 2690, pl. 41, fig. 6.18; Σκέρλου 2004: 178-179, 182-183, nr. 603 and 604). 17  Boardman refers to a wheel-made horse figurine, smaller fragments of similar horse figurines, the leg of a bull figurine and part of a figurine with raised hands (Boardman 1967: 188-189, nr. 26-28, nr. 37 and 48, pl. 73 and 74). 18  Regarding the horse figurine (Boardman 1967: 188, nr. 26, pl.73), Nicholls (1970: 7, 14 ff) expressed some reservations concerning its dating to the LG period, as he considered the 12th century more probable. However, Guggisberg (1996: 98, nr. 303, pl. 22) accepts a date in the Geometric period. - See also Σκέρλου 2004: 183; Κούρου 2009: 124. 19  Hood’s hypothesis regarding the existence of a Mycenaean cult at the site of the harbour (1982: 629, nr.21) is stated in the context of the dating proposed by Nicholls (1970: 7, 14 ff) concerning the horse figurine to the 12th century B.C. Hood accepts Boardman’s dating (1967: 188, nr. 26, pl.73) to the 8th century BC. 20  Hood 1982: 628-629, nr. 16, 18-20, pl. 131-132. 16 

Figure 6. Fragment from the rim and body of a Protogeometric crater.

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Figure 7. The enclosure - peribolos (τχ5) and the staircase (χώρος 3α) of the Period I - II at the Vasili’s plot.

in horizontal row (Figure 5), and a fragment from the rim, body and horizontal handle of a crater decorated with a pair of concentric circles in panels (Figure 6).

Regarding the first case, the broad band at the stump of the neck and the overlying thinner band, suggest that the fragment comes from a trefoil oinochoe, for corresponding

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band decoration usually occurs at the base of the neck of Protogeometric oinochoai from Kerameikos in Attica. These vases, even the earliest examples of this type, are decorated on the shoulder with concentric circles, usually with languettes or wiggly lines, which divide the sets of circles into distinct panels.21 The decorative motif of eye-like concentric circles on the shoulder,22 as shown on the example from the Vasili’s plot, is also found on Protogeometric neck-handled amphorae from Attica,23 Knossos24 and Marmariani,25 even from Klazomenai,26 while it is usually found on high-footed skyphoi of this period,27 as well as in Protogeometric craters.28 This particular motif, however, characterizes also the Geometric neck-handled amphorae of the so-called ‘Group II’, that Catling has identified and classified,29 and to which amphorae from Macedonia, Troy and mainland Greece30 are attributed. Among other elements, this group is distinguished by a ridge below the ill-defined junction between the neck and the shoulder. The absence of this ridge on the fragment of the Vasili’s plot, combined with the differences in the shape and the arrangement of the decoration, diminishes the possibility of integrating the fragment of the Vasili’s plot to the so-called ‘Group II’ vessels.

latter, the arrangement of the decoration, the style and the shapes are far differentiated from the find of the Vasili’s plot.

At Chios, this motif, following the same pattern as the one from the Vasili’s plot, is detected on a burial amphora of the sub-Protogeometric years from the town of Chios, that has however its neck painted solid grey to black,31 as well as on a sherd from Kato Fana, which W. Lamb considered to be Geometric, although Desborough and Coldstream date it to the Protogeometric or Early Geometric times.32 The fragments of closed vessels with a decoration of concentric circles, mainly amphoras, found by Boardman at the deposition pits of the Sanctuary33 are quite later, dated to the 7th century B.C. In the

Based on the aforementioned comparisons, the two vases from the filling material of the 8th century staircase seem to date back to the 10th century B.C., bridging the gap between the layer of the LHIII period and the Early and Middle Geometric Ages, meaning the 9th century B.C., to which Boardman dated, although with reservation, the earliest pottery of the first excavations in the Sanctuary.40

As far as the second case is concerned, the fragment of a crater with an almost vertical body and a horizontal flat-topped rim with a ridge below it recalls the Protogeometric craters from Attica, Leukandi and Marmariani. These craters are decorated with concentric circles, just as in the example from the Vasili’s plot, with a variation though regarding the arrangement and the panels.34 The zigzag line between the two horizontal bands underneath the rim is a key motif, also found in the small fragment of a Protogeometric crater from Fana.35 The same motif is often used in vases of the Protogeometric period, mainly in amphoriskoi and prochoiskoi,36 such as in an imported Attic example from Archontiki at Psara,37 but also in skyphoi, as the examples from Athenian Kerameikos and Euboea demonstrate.38 Additionally, the early dating of the crater from the Vasili’s plot is supported by the decorative dots that encircle the ornament of the metope that is painted solid, a motif detected on the sub-Mycenaean and, more rarely, on the Protogeometric vessels.39

The vessels from Emporios area significant addition to the limited collection of theis land’s Protogeometric pottery, which originate from burial complexes at the town of Chios and also from the Sanctuary of Apollo at Kato Fana.41 Their ‘dependency’ on the pioneering workshops of Attica, Euboea and Thessaly is clearly indicated on the typology of shapes and the decorative subjects of this period’s pottery from Chios. The parallels that have already been presented and our overall knowledge regarding the Protogeometric vessels from Chios, classify the island into the cultural ‘common’ of the Aegean region of this period, as it is formed among the centers of the mainland Greece, the Cyclades and the eastern Aegean.42

Desborough 1952: 49, nr. 545 and 1070, pl. 7; Desborough 1972:38, 151, fig. 8C; Lemos 2002: 68, pl. 92.3. 22  The concentric circles (Boardman 2001: 18, fig. 9, 19, 22) motif is seen in the painted pottery of the Aegean region from the Late Bronze Age to circa the 7th century B.C.; this is why Catling (1998: 152, 180 n.3) highlights that their presence does not constitute an indisputable chronological feature. Similarly, enduring use of this motif is also noted in Chios (Boardman 1967: 105 n.2; Αρχοντίδου 2004, 209), as it is found on Protogeometric vessels (see infra n.31 and 32), as well as on vases of the 7th century BC, mostly on amphorae that come from the Archaic necropolis of Chios (Lemos 1986: 236-238, fig. 7 and 8), and from the Harbour’s Sanctuary at Emporio (Boardman 1967: 137, 139, n. 487-498, pl. 43-45). 23  Desborough 1952: 8, nr. 522, pl.2; Desborough 1972: 33, 147-148, fig. 1C; Brouskari 1980: 20, nr.5 (EPK 537), 30, pl. 3c; Lemos 2002: 56-59, pl. 6.1. 24  Desborough 1952: 18, 245, pl.31 and 34, V, north side; Desborough 1972: fig. 1E; Boardman 2001: 22, fig. 19. 25  Heurtley – Skeat 1930-1931: 25 nr.77, pl. VI; Desborough 1952: 1617, 139, pl. 22, nr. 77; Desborough 1972: 210-212, pl. 51; Lemos 2002: 58-59. 26  Aytaҫlar 2004: 26, 34 n. 21, fig. 12. 27  Desborough 1952: 77-92, 158, 168-169, 146, pl. 10-11, 16 nr. 45, 25 nr.A3, 28 nr.5,9, 33 nr.VI,20; Desborough 1972: 39, 152, 166-167, 180181, fig. 9 and 18, pl. 32; Desborough - Dickinson 1980: 32, pl. 31 nr.11; Lemos 2002: 36-40, pl. 6.3, 22.5, 32.4, 36.4,5, 67). 28  See infra n. 32. 29  Catling 1998: 166-177; See also Gimatzidis 2010: 258-267, fig. 78-81; Lemos 2012: 178-181, fig. 1. 30  Gimatzidis 2010: 262-264, fig. 82. 31  Αρχοντίδου 2004, 209-210, 213 nr. BEX 5459, fig. 4. 32  Lamb 1934-1935: 157-158, pl. 35, nr.24; Desborough 1972: 217; Coldstream 1968: 294, n.5; Beaumont – Archontidou-Argyri 2004: 216, n.41; Beaumont 2011: 223 n.2. 33  See supra n.22. 21 

Heurtley – Skeat 1930-1931: 30-33, pl. IX-XI; Desborough 1952: 9295, 142-145, pl. 12 (Kerameikos) and 23; Desborough 1972: 153-154, 180-181, 210-213, fig. 18, pl. 51; Desborough – Dickinson 1980: 33, pl. 16 nr. 156, pl. 32 nr. 1 and 6. Lemos 2002: 46-52, pl. 71.2, 75, 76.2, 77.2, 79; Boardman 2001: 21, fig. 18. 35  Desborough 1952: 98-101, pl. 11, nr. 546, 1072, 1104, 1082; Desborough 1972: 39, 154, fig. 10 E and F; Lemos 2002: 30-33, pl.5.4,6, 64.1-4, 65.2,3. 36  Desborough 1972: 39, fig.10, E, F; Brouskari 1980: 22, nr. 11 (EPK 544), pl. 3f; Lemos 2002: 63-64, pl. 9.2, 13.11, 88.1, 16.1, 17.1,2. 88,3. - See also Heurtley – Skeat 1930-1931: 22 nr.56, fig.19, pl. IV; Lemos 2002: pl. 21.7. 37  Ρούγγου 2006: 93. 38  Desborough 1952: 98-101, pl. 11, nr. 546, 1072, 1104, 1082; Desborough 1972: 39, 154, fig. 10 E and F; Lemos 2002: 30-33, pl.5.4,6, 64.1-4, 65.2,3. 39  Desborough 1952: 162, nr. 151, pl. 17; Popham et al. 1980: 135, pl. 112 (pyre 3). Lemos – Hatcher 1986: 324, nr.1, fig. 1. Boardman 2001: 18, fig.1; Lemos 2002: 9, 63, pl. 2.2 and 93.4. 40  Boardman 1967: 61; Beaumont 2011: 224 n.4. 41  See supra n. 31-32 and 35. 42  Desborough 1952: 172-179, 232-233; Desborough 1972: 158, 179-215, 221-224; Yalouris 1976: 56-66; Hood 1986: 179-180; Boardman 1988: 34 

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In the Early Iron Age, pottery of fine quality comes mostly from tombs or Sanctuaries. The Emporio’s vessels belong to the second case, while the typology of their shapes is obviously related to some kind of ritual involving wine. This hypothesis, combined with the existence of Psi-type (Ψ) figurines and bull figurines of the Mycenaean and sub-Mycenaean period,43 the deposition of the Protogeometric ‘ritual’ vessels at the foundation level of the 8th century B.C. building remains, similar to that at the Sanctuary of Phanaeus Apollo,44 and the construction of the latter upon the LH layer, suggest the continuity of the cult at Emporios since the end of the Late Bronze Age. Perhaps it is not perilous to assert that the bull figurines and the wine rituals are associated with fertility celebrations and refer to the cult of a female deity, which is identified as the ‘Great Goddess’.45 The overlying layer of the LH finds at the Vasili’s plot (Figure 3) consisted of remarkable building remains (Figure 7): part of a massive wall was found, probably a peribolos (τχ5), as well as part of a rectangular structure, interpreted as a staircase (χώρος 3α). The staircase’s filling material contained pottery of the Protogeometric period, already discussed above. The peribolos consisted of a 1,10 m. wide wall, built of large semi-carved stones, which had only one carved side facing the sea. The staircase, which was also situated towards the sea side, comprised two parallel walls that created a platform of 2,40 m. internal width. A single series of stones, resembling a terrace, delineated Figure 8. The two parallel terrace walls (τχ1 – τχ2) of the Periods III - IV at the this platform from the west. The construction of Vasili’s plot. the staircase’s sidewalls, of 0,70 m. width, was made of flagstones and was identical to the walls α and β of the passage, that Boardman had The walls τχ1 and τχ2 (Figures 3 and 8), revealed at the southern uncovered at the lowest layer of trench H.46 Additionally, the section of the plot, were part of the Sanctuary’s retainingwalls pottery found in small quantities just above staircase 3α, of the III and IV periods and outlined the continuation of the contained mainly examples of Chian craters within dicative walls δ and ζ that Boardman had previously found at trenches decoration, such as Ss (vertical zigzags) in friezes, the crossH and F to the south (Figure 2).48 The filling material between hatched triangle with hooks sprouting from its apex (tree the two retaining walls, contained a small amount of pottery ornament) and bands of butterflies,47 dating the layer later of the wild goat style, metallic components of belts, and two than the middle of the 8th century and up to about the 3rd figurines (a Kouros-type and a Hermaphrodite figurine) that quarter of the 7th century B.C., meaning Periods I and II date the end of use of the first retaining wall (τχ1, τχδ) and of the Sanctuary. Therefore, the staircase (χώρος 3α), the the construction of the second one (τχ2-wall ζ) at the end of peribolos (τχ5) and the passage of the previous surveys are the 7th century or the beginning of the 6th century B.C. contemporary, and probably constitute the first structural phase of the Sanctuary. The Archaic peribolos of the IV period, discovered at the Vasili’s plot (τχ2), displayed a particularly fine construction regarding its exterior face, and like the previous periboloi of 23-26. Boardman 2001: 21; Lemos 2002: 212-217; Αρχοντίδου-Αργύρη 2004: 212-213; Kerschner et al. 2008: 35; Beaumont 2011: 224-225. the Sanctuary, it was situated towards the sea (Figure 12). 43  See supra n.16-20. Outside this peribolos, the excavation revealed an extended 44  Beaumont – Archontidou-Argyri 2004: 204-211; Beaumont 2011: destruction layer (Figure 9), covering almost the whole area 222-224. of the plot with a direction to the sea side. Its width reached 45  Κούρου 2009: 124-127. – Boardman as well (1967: 62-64) mentions 80 centimeters and included a large amount of building that Artemis, the main deity worshipped in the Sanctuary during the 7th century BC, probably succeeded the cult of a female deity of the material: mostly raw or semi-carved stones and stone Bronze Age, similar to that of the Phrygian Cybele. – See also Ρούγγου architectural segments, such as an Ionic half-column, sections 2013: 111-112. 46  Boardman 1967: 53-56, fig. 28 and 29, pl. 12a-c. 47  Boardman 1967: 105-115, fig. 62-69, pl. 19-28.

48 

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Boardman 1967: 56-58, fig.28-29, pl. 11-12.

Kokona Roungou and Eleni Vouligea – Greek Emporios in Chios

Figure 9. View of the destruction layer that was uncovered outside of the terrace wall τχ2. Among the building material stands out a half – column of Ionic order. from the shafts of unfluted columns, an Ionic echinus, as well as fragmentarily preserved clay roof tiles.49 All this material was found ‘discarded’at this site with no particular care, while various objects were included among them: figurines, a large quantity of Chian vessels, mostly cups and kylikes, few of them with iconographic decoration and others with inscribed engravings on the rim, imported Attic black figured vases or from north Ionian workshops, bearing depictions indicative of their votive character, bronze artifacts, such as fibulae and belt components, as well as the foot of a female terracotta statuette (Figure 10).

dedicated to Apollo and Artemis. Among the offerings, there was the rim of a black painted kylix, bearing the inscription: ΙΕΡΗ ΑΠΟΛΛΩΝΟΣ ΕΙΜΙ.51 Those kouroi are the first to be found in Chios and therefore, they are of particular importance for the limited collection of the island’s Archaic sculptures.52 The better preserved example, resembling Leukios’ offering from Samos, reveals the conservatism of a regional, probably local, workshop. On the contrary, the second kouros, with the radial hair locks on his back, and the forearm of the kore, with the unpleated garment, are works of great artistic value. The two sculptures are closely related to the group of the ‘island korai’, the Erythres kore, and a kouros from Kyzikos, revealing thus the artistic relations of Chios to Paros, as well as to the adjacent coastline of Asia Minor.53 The sculptures are dated to the mid6th century B.C., as well as the vast majority of the objects in the destruction layer, a dating that correlates the votive offerings and the temenos, which Boardman assumed to have been standing at the demarcated plateau of the sanctuary during the mid-6th century B.C.54

The type of the objects, as well as their quality, testify that they were votive offerings to Apollo and Artemis, the Sanctuary’s deities who have been worshiped at least since the end of the 7th century B.C.50 Two marble kouroi and the statue of a kore, which were found ‘discarded’ in the destruction layer among plinth stones and architectural fragments (Figure 11), were The echinus exhibits a typological similarity to the examples from Aeolis (Betancourt 1977: 58-73, fig. 20 and 27, pl. 36, 38 and 41; Cook – Nicholls1998:132-135, fig. 29, pl. 17a). This comparison is indissolubly linked to Boardman’s point regarding the close artistic relations among Chios and the Aeolic and north-Ionic cities (Boardman 1967: 74). Besides, in Chios too, the closest counterparts regarding the echinus from the Vasili’s plot are two carved mouldings from Fana and from the Harbour Sanctuary, which are similar to the examples from Phokaia, Neandria and Smyrna (Boardman 1959: 174 nr.14, 176177, pl. XXVIb; Boardman 1967: 67-68, 90 nr. 49, fig. 46, pl. 17). 50  Boardman 1967: 63-64 49 

Ρούγγου 2012: 135, 143, fig. 4, 5 and 15. Boardman 1962:43-45, pl. 38-44; Boardman 1967: 182-183, fig. 128, pl. 69.7; Recently Ρούγγου 2013: 57-62, 67-69, 94-99, 129-132, 135-137, with bibliography. 53  Ρούγγου 2012: 135-144, fig. 6-14. 54  Boardman 1967: 65-68, fig. 34, pl. 13 – 14a. 51  52 

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Figure 10. Examples of Attic and Chian pottery of the middle of the 6th century B.C., as well as the unshod foot of a female statuette. The upper chronological limit of the layer, marking also its formation date, is placed at the beginning of the 5th century B.C. on the basis of the female figurines with their arm resting on the breast.55 During this period the Sanctuary probably suffered a great destruction, which seems to be related to the naval battle of Ladi and the Persian advance to the Eastern Aegean.56 In the first half of the 5th century B.C., after the Persian Wars, the island recovered and the Sanctuary was renovated. Thus, the construction material of the cult building of the mid 6th century B.C. was used at the crepidoma of the Classical temple, whereas, the rest of the construction material along with the offerings were discarded outside the peribolos. A new peribolos (Figure 3), that was erected about 15 meters away from the Archaic limit of the Sanctuary (τχ2) demarcated the Classical Sanctuary’s limits to the sea (Figure 12). This way the 6th century B.C. offerings and building material were covered by the Sanctuary of the Classical period.

architectural remains of an organized settlement of the Early Historical Times. At a plateau located below the hill’s top, he found a fortified acropolis, which consisted of a temple dedicated to Athena, a ruler’s megaron, and a large open area, identified as a gathering space. Outside the walls, on the western slope of the hill, he traced about 50 one-roomed buildings, the majority of which were houses that according to the excavator represented at least half of the settlement’s buildings. These houses were classified into two categories: those of the megaron type and those with the built bench. A central road crossing the slope provided access to the acropolis.57 According to the evidence by the new excavation data, the acropolis was entirely surrounded by a wall, even at its eastern side that was naturally protected. And while at the west and south sides of the acropolis plateau the wall is preserved up to a height of about two meters, at the eastern one, only its foundations were traced, whilstat the north side, towards the precipitous hilltop, it was dilapidated for the erection of the Convent. The wall did not display any towers, except for the acropolis entrance to the south.58

In 2002, alongside the excavation research at the area of the Sanctuary, works started at the hill of Prophet Elias within the framework of the site’s enhancement project. At this rocky hill to the north of the port, John Boardman excavated in 1952

Boardman 1967: 3-51. Boardman 1988: 31-32 – See also Mazarakis Ainian 1997: 85-86, 197-198, 256, 331, fig. 368-382 with bibliography. 58  Boardman 1967: 4-5, fig. 4, pl. 2e, 3c-d; Αρχοντίδου-Αργύρη 2003: 57 

Boardman 1967: 195, nrs. 122-126, 201, pl. 81. 56  Herodotus VI, 32. Boardman 1967:251-252. 55 

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Figure 11. The statues of kouroi, as they were revealed in the destruction layer.

Figure 12. View from the east of the excavated building remains at the Vasili’s plot.

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Bibliography

Recent investigation of the settlement at the slope of the hill has brought to light new residences, which were designated by Latin numbers instead of the Latin letters given by the first excavator.59 The new houses were revealed mainly at the northwest side of the slope, which provided a full view of the plain extending north of the hill. All houses belong to the two general categories defined by Boardman. Exceptional, however, among the excavated remains, appears to be a oneroomed building due to its circular plan, that was traced at the foothill of the slope below the Lower Megaron, and it was interpreted as a workshop. At the interior of this circular building (VII), a rocky outcropping on which the central roof support was standing, a rectangular cache and a pithos were found preserved.60

Αρχοντίδου-Αργύρη, Α. 2003. Εμποριό. Ένας οικισμός των πρώιμων ιστορικών χρόνων. Chios: 20th Ephorate of Prehistoric and Classical Antiquities, Hellenic Ministry of Culture. Αρχοντίδου, Α. 2004. Πρωτογεωμετρική Κεραμική από τη Χίο. In Ν. Χρ. Σταμπολίδης and Α. Γιαννικουρή (ed.) Το Αιγαίο στην Πρώιμη Εποχή του Σιδήρου. Πρακτικά του Διεθνούς Συμποσίου. Ρόδος, 1 – 4 Νοεμβρίου 2002: 207 – 214. Athens: University of Crete and Hellenic Ministry of Culture/ Archaeological Institute of Aegean Studies. Aytaҫlar, Ν. 2004. The Early Iron Age at Klazomenai. In A. Moustaka, E. Skarlatidou, M.-C. Tzannes and Y. Ersoy (ed.) Klazomenai, Teos and Abdera: Metropoleis and Colony. Proccedings of the International Symposium held at the Archaeological Museum of Abdera, Abdera, 20-21 October 2001: 17-41. Tsessaloniki 2004: 19th Ephorate of Prehistoric and Classical Antiquities of Komotini under the Auspices of the Greek Ministry of Culture. Betancourt, P. 1977. The Aeolic style in Architecture. A Survey of its Development in Palestine, the Halikarnassos Peninsula and Greece, 1000-500 B.C., Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press. Beaumont, L. and Archontidou-Argyri, A. 2004. Excavations at Kato Phana, Chios: 1999, 2000 and 2001. In BSA 99: 201-255, pl.15-22. Beaumont, L.A. 2011. Chios in the ‘Dark Ages’: New Evidence from Kato Phana. In A. Mazarakis Ainian (ed.) The ‘Dark Ages’ Revisited. Acts of an International Symposium in Memory of William D.E. Coulson. University of Thessaly, Volos 14-17 June 2007: 221-231. Volos: University of Thessaly Press. Boardman, J. Chian and Early Ionic Architecture. In AntJ 39: 170-218, pl. 26-34. Boardman, J. 1962. Two Archaic Korai in Chios. In AntPl 1: 4345, πίν. 38-41. Boardman, J. 1967. Excavations in Chios 1952-1955. Greek Emporio. In BSA Suppl. 6. London: Thames and Hudson. Boardman, J. 1988. The Greek Overseas. Their Early Colonies and Trade. 4th ed. London: Thames and Hudson. Boardman, J. 2001. Πρώιμη Ελληνική Αγγειογραφία. Translated by L. Bournias. Athens: Institute of the Book – A. Kardamitsa. Brouskari, M. 1980. A Dark Age Cemetery in Erechtheion Street, Athens. In BSA 75: 13-31, pl. 1-5. Catling, R.W.V. 1998. The typology of the Protogeometric and sub-Protogeometric pottery from Troia and its Aegean context. In Studia Troica 8: 151-187. Coldstream, J.N. 1968. Greek Geometric Pottery. A Survey of Ten Local Styles and their Chronology. London. Cook, J.M. and R.V. Nicholls, with an Appendix by D.M. Pyle. 1998. The Temples of Athena. In BSA Suppl. 30. London. Desborough, V.R.d’A. 1952. Protogeometric Pottery. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Desborough, V.R.d’A. 1972. The Greek Dark Ages. London: Ernest Benn Limited. Desborough, V.R.d’A. and Dickinson, T.P.K. 1980. The Protogeometric and Sub-Protogeometric Pottery. In M.R. Popham, L.H. Sackett and P.G. Themelis (ed) Lefkandi I. The Iron Age. In BSA Suppl. 11: 27-56. London: Thames and Hudson. Δημοπούλου, Κ. 1982. Το μυκηναϊκό ιερό στο Αμύκλαιο και η ΥΕΙΙΙΓ περίοδος στη Λακωνία. Ph.D.: University of Athens.

The only examples of multi-roomed buildings at Emporios, which were recovered– and were partially studied –within the limits of the project’s excavation area, had first been unearthed during 2002-2003. In particular, they are two buildings, arranged parallel to each other; the northern narrow side of the west one has the form of a wide apsis.61 Future research of these buildings that appear to be of public use is certainly expected to enhance our knowledge regarding the settlement’s organization, expansion and character. As far as the site planning is concerned, new elements have turned out during the enhancement of the site, as three pathways have been traced. These led from the central road to various house clusters, following the slope’s height discrepancies and the retaining walls that reinforced it. Stone staircases secured access to the most inaccessible houses. The settlement planning at the hill’s slope does not show urban cohesion, but is adjusted to the barren, rocky terrain, as deduced from the archaeological evidence, recent and old. The hill’s location, the plains that embrace its foothills and the natural anchorage offered the settlement’s inhabitants natural protection, access to the sea and product selfsufficiency. The settlement was peacefully abandoned shortly before the end of the 7th century B.C. for unknown reasons. The pioneering work of John Boardman and the British School at Athens at Emporios has undoubtedly marked the archaeological research on Chios, as well as on the northeastern Aegean. The excavations, conducted at the site of the Sanctuary and of Prophet Elias many years later, along with the newly discovered finds, reinforced the assumptions and remarks of the first excavator. With J. Boardman’s fundamental publication Greek Emporio as our guide, we hope that we were worthy continuers of the archaeological research on this land, with which he was inextricably linked.

82-87. 59  Αρχοντίδου-Αργύρη 2003: 28, 40, 42-43. 60  Αρχοντίδου-Αργύρη 2003: 50. 61  Αρχοντίδου-Αργύρη 2003: 5, nr. 21.

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Gimatzidis, S. 2010. Die Stadt Sindos. Eine Siedlung von der späten Bronze- bis zur Klassischen Zeit am Thermaischen Golf in Makedonien. Prähistorische Archäologie in Südosteuropa 21. Rahden/Westf.: Verlag Marie Leidorf GMBH. Guggisberg, M.A. 1996. Frühgriechische Tierkeramik: zur Entwicklung und Bedeutung der Tiergefässe und der hohlen Tierfiguren in der späten Bronze- und frühen Eisenzeit (ca.1600700 v. Chr.). Mainz. Heurtley W.A. and Skeat, T.C. 1930-1931. The Tholos Tomb of Marmariane. In BSA 31: 1-55, pl. I-XI. Hood, S. 1981. Excavations in Chios 1938-1955. Prehistoric Emporio and Ayio Gala I. In BSA Suppl. 15. London: Thames and Hudson. Hood, S. 1982. Excavations in Chios 1938-1955. Prehistoric Emporio and Ayio Gala II. In BSA Suppl. 16. London: Thames and Hudson. Hood, S. 1986. Mycenaeans in Chios. In J. Boardman and C.E. Vaphopoulou-Richardson (ed.) Chios. A Conference at the Homereion in Chios 1984: 169-180. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Kerschner, M. 2006. Die Ionische Wanderung im Lichte neuer archäologischer Forschungen in Ephesos. In E. Olshausen – H. Sonnabend (ed.) ‘Troianer sind wir gewesen’ – Migrationen in der antiken Welt. Stuttgarter Kolloquium zur Historischen Geographie des Altertums 8, 2002. Geographica Historica 21: 364-382. Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag. Kerschner, M., G. Forstenpointner and U. Muss 2008. Das Artemision in den späten Bronzezeit und der frühen Eisenzeit. In U. Muss (ed.) Die Archäologie der ephesischen Artemis. Gestalt und Ritual eines Heiligtums: 33-46. Wien: Phoibos Verlag. Κούρου, Ν. 2009. Συνέχειες και ασυνέχειες. Η επικράτηση των ανδρικών θεοτήτων στα μεγάλα ιερά. In Χρ. Λούκος, Ν. Ξιφαράς and Κλ. Πατεράκη (ed.) Ubi Dubium ibi Libertas. Τιμητικός Τόμος για τον καθηγητή Νικόλα Φαράκλα: 123133. Rethymno: Editions of the Philosophical School of the University of Crete. Lamb, W. 1934-1935. Excavations at Kato Phana in Chios. In BSA 35: 138-164, pl. 27-37. Lemos, A.A. 1986. Archaic Chian pottery on Chios. In J. Boardman and C.E. Vaphopoulou-Richardson (ed.) Chios. A Conference at the Homereion in Chios: 233-249. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Lemos, I.S. and H. Hatcher. 1986. Protogeometric Skyros and Euboea. In OJA 5 (3): 323-337. Lemos, I.S. 2002. The Protogeometric Aegean. The Archaeology of the Late Eleventh and Tenth Centuries BC. Oxford Monographs on Classical Archaeology. Oxford: University Press. Lemos, I. 2012. A Northern Aegean Amphora from Xeropolis, Lefkandi. In Π. Αδάμ-Βελένη, Κ. Τζαναβάρη and Μ.

Ιντζές (ed.) δινήεσσα. Τιμητικός τόμος για την Κατερίνα Ρωμιοπούλου: 177-182. Thessaloniki: Archaeological Museum of Thessaloniki Puplication. Mazarakis-Ainian, A. 1997. From rulers’ dwellings to temples. Architecture, religion and society in Early Iron Age Greece, 1100700 B.C. Studies in Mediterranean Archaeology vol. CXXI. Jonsered: Paul Åstrӧms Fӧrlag. Nicholls, R.V. 1970. Greek Votive Statuettes and Religious Continuity, ca. 1200-700 B.C. In B.R. Harris (ed.) Auckland Classical Essays presented to E.M. Blaiklock: 1-37. Auckland: University Press. Niemeier, W.-D. – Kouka, O. 2010. Jahresbericht 2009 des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts. Abteilung Athen: Samos, Heraion. In AA 2010/1. Beiheft 1 (Jahresbericht 2010): 112-114. Renfrew, C. 1985. The Archaeology of Cult. The Sanctuary at Phylakopi. In BSA Suppl. 18. Popham, M.R., L.H. Sackett and P.G. Themelis. 1980. The Tombs, Pyres and their Contents. In M.R Popham, L.H. Sackett and P.G. Themelis (ed.) Lefkandi I. The Iron Age. In BSA Suppl. 11: 109-196. London: Thames and Hudson. Ρούγγου, Κ. 2006. Μυκηναϊκή Κεραμική. In A. ΑρχοντίδουΑργύρη (ed.) Ψαρά. Ένας σταθμός στην Περιφέρεια του Μυκηναϊκού Κόσμου: 60-93. Psara: 20th Ephorate of Prehistoric and Classical Antiquities, Hellenic Ministry of Culture. Ρουγγου, Κ. 2012. Αρχαϊκά γλυπτά από το ιερό του λιμανιού στο Εμποριό της Χίου. In G. Kokkorou-Alevras and W.D. Niemeier (ed.) Neue Funde Archaischer Plastik aus griechischen Heiligtümern und Nekropolen. Internationales Symposion. Athen, 2.-3. November 2007. Athenaia 3: 133146. München: Hirmer Verlag GmbH. Ρούγγου, Κ. 2013. Η λατρεία της Κυβέλης στο Βορειοανατολικό Αιγαίο: Λέσβος, Λήμνος, Χίος. Ph.D. University of Ioannina. Ρούγγου, Κ., Ν. Δουλουμπέκης and Γ. Κοσσυφίδου 2014. Αιολικό Ιερό Κλοπεδής Λέσβου. Mytilene: Hellenic Ministry of Culture, 20th Ephorate of Prehistoric and Classical Antiquities. Σκέρλου, Ε. 2004. Ένα ιερό της Γεωμετρικής και Αρχαϊκής περιόδου στην στην περιοχή Ηρακλής της Κω. In Ν. Χρ. Σταμπολίδης – Α. Γιαννικουρή (ed.) Το Αιγαίο στην Πρώιμη Εποχή του Σιδήρου. Πρακτικά του Διεθνούς Συμποσίου. Ρόδος, 1 – 4 Νοεμβρίου 2002: 177-188. Athens: University of Crete – Hellenic Ministry of Culture, Archaeological Institute of Aegean Studies Yalouris, E. 1976. The Archaeology and Early History of Chios. Oxford (unpublished DPhil thesis, University of Oxford). Walter, H. 1963. Ausgrabungen im Heraion von Samos (19521962).In ArchDelt 18: 286-287, pl.

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Temples with a Double Cella: New Thoughts on a Little-Known Type of Temple Ugo Fusco Introduction

and Leto with her children (Apollo and Artemis) at Mantinea (8.9.1:6 ναὸς  διπλοῦς); the sanctuary of Aphrodite and Ares in the proastion of Argos (2.25.1:7 ἱερὸν διπλοῦν); the temple of Eileithyia and Sosipolis in the Panhellenic sanctuary of Olympia (6.20.3:8 ναὸς διπλοῦς) and the sacred building known as the Erechtheion on the Acropolis at Athens (1.26.5:9 οἴκημα διπλοῦν). According to scholars, Pausanias’ chose between the terms ἱερὸν/ναὸς and οἴκημα is made mainly on the basis of the ground plan and architectural form of the monument at the time of his visit: he employs ἱερὸν/ναὸς to refer to what we might call a ‘traditional temple’ type, as at Argos, Olympia and Mantinea. By contrast, he prefers the more generic and vague term οἴκημα when discussing those buildings that present evident architectural peculiarities, as at Sikyon and Athens.10 Thanks to Pausanias’ description of the floor plans of these sacred buildings, it is clear that at Sikyon the rooms and entrances are aligned on a single axis whilst at Athens they lie on different axes, though both these buildings are termed οἴκημα διπλοῦν. A more complex and problematic structure that merits a separate treatment is the Erechtheion

This article forms part of a more wide-ranging research project on cult places with a double room in the Greek world, undertaken at the Italian School of Archaeology at Athens.1 I will limit myself here to presenting some preliminary considerations on this temple typology, referring readers to the final publication of the study for a more detailed analysis. Cult buildings with a double cella have traditionally been considered a rarity in the literature on Greek architecture and as such have never been the subject of a dedicated study. Indeed, they tend to be mentioned only in passing, as in the comments of R. Ginouvès:2 ‘le cas est assez rare dans le monde grec; il peut s’agir de deux pièces jumelles, souvent précédées par un vestibule commun’ or the more recent remarks by Marie-Christine Hellmann:3 ‘Le temple à double oikos ou à cellae jumelles, non pas juxtaposées mais adossées ou reliées par un mur mitoyen, est beaucoup plus rare: deux exemples en ont été relevés en Crète, tous deux de date hellénistique et dédiés à deux divinités différentes, à Sta Lénika près d’Olonte et à Aptéra. C’est peut-être ainsi que se présentait le ‘temple double’ d’Asclépios et des Létoïdes, remarqué par Pausanias à Mantineée (VIII 9, 1), et finalement l’Érechtheion entre aussi dans cette catégorie’. An exception to this rule is the study published a few decades ago by A. Barattolo, the most recent to tackle the issue in a more constructive way, at least as concerns the literary evidence.4 In his architectural analysis of the Temple of Venus and Roma in Rome, accurately described in the title of the volume as a ‘tempio ‘greco’’ for its unusual floor plan (Figure 6), the scholar also considers the most important instances of temples with a double cella attested in both the literary and the archaeological sources. My own research suggests that the situation is more complex than has hitherto been thought and has uncovered a number of archaeological attestations not considered in the previous literature. I have collected around twenty examples of such buildings, of which a typological selection is presented in Figure 1.

enclosure you see on the left a building with two rooms (διπλοῦν  ἐστιν  οἴκημα). In the outer room lies a figure of Sleep, of which nothing remains now except the head. The inner room is given over to the Carnean Apollo; into it none may enter except the priests’, translation by Jones 1918. 6  ‘The Mantineans possess a temple composed of two parts (ναὸς  διπλοῦς), being divided almost exactly at the middle by a wall. In one part of the temple is an image of Asclepius, made by Alcamenes; the other part is a sanctuary of Leto and her children, and their images were made by Praxiteles two generations after Alcamenes. On the pedestal of these are figures of Muses together with Marsyas playing the flute. Here there is a figure of Polybius, the son of Lycortas, carved in relief upon a slab’, translation by Jones 1918. 7  ‘The road from Argos to Mantinea is not the same as that to Tegea, but begins from the gate at the Ridge. On this road is a sanctuary built with two rooms (ἱερὸν  διπλοῦν), having an entrance on the west side and another on the east. At the latter is a wooden image of Aphrodite, and at the west entrance one of Ares. They say that the images are votive offerings of Polyneices and of the Argives who joined him in the campaign to redress his wrongs’, translation by Jones 1918. 8  ‘The old woman who tends Sosipolis herself too by an Elean custom lives in chastity, bringing water for the god’s bath and setting before him barley cakes kneaded with honey. In the front part of the temple, for it is built in two parts (τοῦ ναοῦ -διπλοῦς), is an altar of Eileithyia and an entrance for the public; in the inner part Sosipolis is worshipped, and no one may enter it except the woman who tends the god, and she must wrap her head and face in a white veil’, translation by Jones 1918. 9  ‘There is also a building called the Erechtheum. Before the entrance is an altar of Zeus the Most High, on which they never sacrifice a living creature, but offer cakes, not being wont to use any wine either. Inside the entrance are altars, one to Poseidon, on which in obedience to an oracle they sacrifice also to Erechtheus, the second to the hero Butes, and the third to Hephaestus. On the walls are paintings represening members of the clan Butadae; there is also inside – the building is double (διπλοῦν γάρ ἐστι τὸ οἴκημα) – seawater in a cistern’, translation by Jones 1918. 10  Osanna 1998: 218.

Literary tradition The only surviving literary source to describe temple buildings with a double cella is Pausanias. In his Description of Greece, the Periegetes lists a total of five such structures, variously termed ἱερὸν  διπλοῦν, ναὸς  διπλοῦς and  οἴκημα διπλοῦν. Specifically, these are the city temple of Apollo Karneios at Sikyon (2.10.2:5 οἴκημα διπλοῦν); that of Asklepios The research project was funded by the Italian Accademia dei Lincei with a ‘Clelia Laviosa’ fellowship and was conducted between May 2016 and January 2017. 2  Ginouvès 1998: 41. 3  Hellmann 2006: 29. 4  Barattolo 1978. 5  ‘From here is a way to a sanctuary of Asclepius. On passing into the 1 

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Figure 1. Some examples of cult buildings with a double cella: 1. Sanctuary of Apollo at Aliki; 2. Western cella (megaron) of the Temple of Athena Polias; 3. Temple of Demeter (and Kore?) at Spiliotaki; 4. Temple of Athena Nikephoros (later of Augustus and Roma?) at Pergamon; 5. Temple at Aptéra in Crete; 6. Temple of Aphrodite and Ares, at Sta Lénika in Crete (by U. Fusco). on the Athenian acropolis, for which at least two different reconstructions are possible.11 The same is true at Mantinea, where Pausanias does not clearly specify the position of the entrances and where the cellae may thus have lain parallel to or opposite one another. As concerns the principal object of this article, the temple at Argos, Pausanias does specify the arrangement of the entrances to the cult rooms: … καὶ πρὸς ἡλίου δύνοντος ἔσοδον καὶ κατὰ ἀνατολὰς ἑτέραν ἔχον …’ (‘…having an entrance on the west side and another on the east…’, trans. W.H.S. Jones); in other words, the entrances were on opposite sides. The second part of this study offers some considerations on the latter temple, which presents some similarities with the temple of Venus and Roma in Rome.

of Delos)14. Finally, the architectural arrangement with a double cella may occupy the entire monument, or just a part of it. Figure 1 presents an initial selection of temples, or parts of temples, belonging to this typology, demonstrating that the predominant model is that with parallel cellae, though of different dimensions (Figures 1, n. 1, 2, 3, 5, 6). By contrast, the type with opposing cellae is represented by just one building:15 the temple of Athena Nikephòros16 (later of Augustus and Roma?) at Pergamon, recently re-analysed by F. Coarelli17 (Figure 1, n. 4). By cross-referencing the information provided by the literary tradition with the archaeological data, we can distinguish between three different types of cult buildings with a double cella on the basis of the floor plan (Figure 2):

Archaeological Evidence

Type A – with parallel cellae divided by a party wall, with separate entrances facing in the same direction;

On an archaeological level, both buildings with a double cella are frequently attested in the Greek world for both religious and non-religious purposes.12 In the case of cult structures, both rooms may be dedicated to two or more gods; alternatively, one room may serve for the cult of a god with the other being used for some other purpose, for example as a banqueting room (the sanctuary of Apollo at Aliki,13 Figure 1, n. 1) or altar (the so-called ‘Temple of Anios’ on the island

Type B – with cellae and entrances on the same axis; Bruneau, Ducat 2005: 243, n. 68. N. 1. Sanctuary of Apollo (?) or of the Dioscuri (?) at Aliki (6th century BCE, Servais 1980; Grandjean, Salviat 2000: 162-165; Falezza 2012: 362-372); 2. Western cella (megaron) of the temple of Athena Polias (475-406/405 BCE, Hurwit 1999: 144-145; Monaco 2015: 132; Di Cesare 2015: 131-132, 134, 138 and notes 109, 111); 3. Temple of Demeter (and Kore ?) at Spiliotaki (late 6th - early 5th century BCE, Verdelis 1964: 121-122); 4. Temple of Athena Nikephoros (later of Augustus and Roma?) at Pergamon (last quarter of the 3rd century BCE, Radt 1988: 179-190; renovation of the cella in the Imperial period: Coarelli 2016: 55-59); 5. Temple at Aptéra in Crete (Hellenistic period, Sporn 2002: 266); 6. Temple of Aphrodite and Ares, at Sta Lenikà in Crete (Bousquet 1938; Sporn 2002: 68-73). 16  Radt 1988: 179-190. 17  Coarelli 2016: 55-5. 14 

15 

Travlos 1971: 217, fig. 280 and 218, fig. 281. For general information on the monument see the recent overview in Monaco 2015: 132-136. 12  For example the pastas house: Pesando 1989: 63-72. Among the buildings with a double cella present in sanctuaries but that cannot be considered temple structures, though in some cases the interpretation is controversial, we could mention hestiatoria (banqueting rooms) on which there is a vast bibliography; see the recent overview in Leypold 2008. 13  Falezza 2012: 362-272. 11 

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Figure 2. The three architectural types (A, B, C) of cult buildings with a double cella (by U. Fusco).

Figure 3. Map of the Argive Plain (reprocessed from Hall 1995, fig. 1). Type C – with symmetrically opposed cellae, with independent entrances (we have chosen to represent Type C as amphiprostyle, distyle in antis, but obviously the presence of the columns is purely hypothetical). The most frequent type is certainly A whilst B, of which only one instance is attested archaeologically, is the least common and is represented only by the city temple dedicated to Apollo Karneios at Sikyon and the temple of Eileithyia and Sosipolis at Olympia, both

described by Pausanias. Type C comprises some exceptionally large temples of the Roman imperial period, including the temple of Venus and Roma18 (105.73x48.22 m) in Rome and the Artemision of Sardis19 (99.16x45.73 m), dedicated to Artemis and Antoninus Pius/Faustina. 18  19 

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Barattolo 1978; Fraioli 2012. Cahill, Greenewalt jr. 2016.

Ugo Fusco – Temples with a Double Cella

Figure 4. The road towards Mantinea, with diagonal lines marking the area where the temple described by Pausanias may have been located (reprocessed from Google Earth). Temple of Aphrodite and Ares at Argos (Figure 3). Our only eyewitness description of this Argive sanctuary is the brief account provided by Pausanias (2.25.1)20, which unfortunately tells us nothing of its precise location, ground plan, elevations, chronology or architectural and sculptural decorations.

at an altar (‘ὁ  δὲ  καταφυγὼν  ἐπὶ  τὸν  βωμὸν  περιγίγνεται’), which evidently stood in the vicinity. There must therefore have been at least two distinct sacred areas near the river Charadros: the sanctuary of Aphrodite and Ares, and the altar of an unknown god. The presence of these cult installations is indicative of the religious importance that the river course held for the city. In this context, we should note that, according to J.M. Hall, the Charadros marked the boundary of Argive territory during the Archaic period and therefore had a prominent function on a political, economic and military level.24

Location. Thanks to the information provided by W. Vollgraff21 in his topographical study of Argive territory dating to the very early 20th century, cross-referenced with the short account by Pausanias, we can locate the sanctuary near the ancient river Charadros, now known as the Xerias (Figure 4), which loops protectively around the periurban area of Argos to the north and east (Figure 3). According to some scholars, the vicinity of the cult place to the river is explained by the latter’s important role in ancient times as a kind of final sacred boundary demarcating the area in which any military disputes arising during expeditions were settled before the Argive army re-entered the city.22 A passage from Thucydides illustrates this particular role played by the river23 (5.60.6). According to the Greek historian, the Argive army was returning to the city in 418 BCE after an encounter with the Spartans in the plains to the north of Argos. On reaching the river Charadros, the troops made a halt and attempted to stone Thrasyllus, one of the five generals, who was guilty of single-handedly agreeing a truce with the enemy. Thrasyllus survived this incident by seeking refuge

Cult statues. According to Pausanias, both of the sanctuary’s cult statues were xoana, dedicated by Polynices and his Argive allies.25 Scholars have interpreted this strange mythological reference as indicative of Pausanias’ desire either to underline the antiquity of this cult place,26 or to stress the strong ties between this sanctuary and the sphere of war.27 Unfortunately, the two cult statues are no longer extant, but some attempts have been made to identify images of them on coin series (Figure 5). Again thanks to Pausanias, we know that the statues stood at the entrances to the two rooms and not, as was usually the case, inside them: the chamber dedicated to Aphrodite lay to the east and that sacred to Ares to the west. The divine association Aphrodite-Ares has recently been the subject of some detailed studies. Though the presence of Ares in a context linked to war is to be expected, there has been a heated debate over that of Aphrodite, paired with the god Ares since Homer and Hesiod.28 Two competing theories have been proposed. One of these, championed by V. Pirenne-Delforge, interprets the association of these two gods as an ‘opposition complémentaire’ that is also reflected on a concrete level in the architectural layout of

See note 7. 21  ‘Nous plaçons ce temple (i.e. the sanctuary with a double cella) à droite de la route actuelle de Mantinée, à un quart d’heure de distance de l’ancienne porte de la Deiras. C’est là que commence le chemin qui mène à la source dite Akoa’, Vollgraff 1907: 180-181, see also Kophiniotis 1892: 124. No further information has been found as yet on the location of the Akoa spring, but it is worth noting the presence of a place named Akoba in the area under consideration, where the church of Aghios Nikolaos stands. 22  Tomlinson 1972: 208; Pirenne-Delforge 1994:167-168; Pironti 2007: 256. 23  ‘And so on their return they (the Argives) began to stone Thrasyllus in the bed of the Charadrus, where before they enter the city all causes are tried that arise from an expedition. But he fled for refuge to the altar and was saved; his property however was confiscated’, translation by Forster Smith 1959. See also Gomme, Andrewes, Dover 1970: 86. 20 

Hall1995: 590. Donohue 1988: 376, nº 218. 26  Pirenne-Delforge 1994:168, 170. 27  Pironti 2007: 256-257. 28  Hom. Il. 5.355-363 and Od. 8.266-366; Hes. Theog. 933-937. 24 

25 

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between the goddess Aphrodite and the world of war and military life, offering a wealth of evidence to show her close association with the martial sphere.30 On the latter view, Aphrodite’s pairing with Ares is not antithetical but rather fully complementary. Reconstruction. Pausanias’ description of the temple at Argos places it in our type C (Figure 2). Sadly, though, we have no information on the chronology of the building, nor on its foundation date or any renovations and/or reconstructions that may have occurred before Pausanias visited in around the mid-2nd century AD. By themselves, the analogies of ground plan between the temple at Argos and that of Venus and Roma31 in Rome (Figure 6) do not allow us to advance any further Figure 5. Images on coins showing the cult statues of Aphrodite and Ares (after hypotheses regarding the former’s potential Oikonomides 1964, pl. L, nos. L, LI= New enlarged edition of Imhoof-Blumer, Gardner, architectural influences on the latter London 1887). (Figure 7). However, it is worth mentioning that the emperor Hadrian visited the city of the monument itself ‘comme si leur localisation constituait Argos (and perhaps also the temple of Aphrodite and Ares) un cheminement de la guerre à la concorde’.29 The second during one of his journeys, likely in 124 CE32 before work theory, proposed by G. Pironti, reinterprets the relationship began on the temple in Rome.

Figure 6. Reconstructed plan of the Temple of Venus and Roma in the Hadrianic phase (after Fraioli 2012, pl. 102). Pironti 2007: 237-241, 257-258, 276-277. Fraioli 2012. 32  Birley 1997: 179. 30  29 

31 

Pirenne-Delforge 1994: 167-169, 450-454.

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Figure 7. Hypothetical reconstruction of the layout of the sanctuary of Aphrodite and Ares in the periurban area of Argos (by U. Fusco). Acknowledgements

ensembles (Collection de l’Ecole française de Rome 84). Rome: Ecole française de Rome. Gomme, A.W., Andrewes, A., Dover, K.J. 1970. A Historical Commentary on Thucydides. Oxford: At the Clarendon Press. Grandjean, Y., Salviat, F. 2000. Guide de Thasos (Sites et monuments 3, second edition). Athènes: École française d’Athènes. Hall, J.M. 1995. How Argive was the ‘Argive’ Heraion ? The Political and Cultic Geography of the Argive Plain, 900-400 B.C. In AJA 99, n. 4: 577-613. Hellmann, M.-C. 2006. L’architecture grecque 2. Architecture religieuse et funéraire. Paris: Picard. Hurwit, J.M. 1999. The Athenian Acropolis. History, Mythology, and Archaeology from the Neolithic Era to the Present. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Imhoof-Blumer, G. 1887. Numismatic Commentary on Pausanias. London, Bungay: Richard Clay and sons. Jones, W.H.S. 1918. Pausanias. Description of Greece I. Books I and II (The Loeb Classical Library). London: Cambridge, MA. Kophiniotis, J. 1892. Ἱστορία τοῦ Ἄϱγους. Athens. Leypold, C. 2008. Bankettgebäude in griechischen Heiligtümern. Wiesbaden: Reichert. Monaco, M.C. 2015. Eretteo. In E. Greco, Topografia di Atene. Sviluppo urbano e monumenti dalle origini al III secolo d.C., Tomo 1: Acropoli – Areopago – Tra Acropoli e Pnice (Collana SATAA): 132-136. Atene, Paestum: Scuola Archeologica Italiana di Atene - Pandemos. Oikonomides, A.N. 1964. Ancient Coins Illustrating Lost Masterpieces of Greek Art: a Numismatic Commentary on Pausanias. Chicago: Argonaut. Osanna, M. 1998. Descrizione autoptica e rielaborazione ‘a tavolino’ in Pausania: il caso di Aigeira. In V. PirenneDelforge (ed.), Les Panthéons des cités. Des origines à la Périégèse de Pausanias. Actes du Colloque organisé à l’Université de Liège du 15 au 17 mai 1997 (Kernos, suppl. 8): 209-226. Liège: Centre International d’Étude de la Religion Grecque Antique. Pesando, F. 1989. La casa dei Greci (Biblioteca di Archeologia 11). Milano: Longanesi. Pirenne-Delforge, V. 1994. L’Aphrodite grecque. Contribution à l’étude de ses cultes et de sa personnalité dans le panthéon arcaïque et classique (Kernos, suppl. 4). Athènes, Liège: Centre International d’Étude de la Religion Grecque Antique. Pironti, G. 2007. Entre ciel et guerre. Figures d’Aphrodite en Grèce ancienne (Kernos, suppl. 18). Liège: Centre International d’Étude de la Religion Grecque Antique.

I wish to thank the organizers of the Conference for giving me the opportunity to present these preliminary data from my research project; Prof. E. Papi, director of the Italian School of Archaeology at Athens; Prof. N. Bookidis of the American School at Athens and Prof. I. Patera for their advice and the interest with which they have followed this study; my friends L. Argentieri, G. Colesanti and G. Marginesu for discussing some aspects of this research project; G. Pelucchini and F. Soriano for assistance with plans and illustrations. Bibliography Barattolo, A. 1978. Il Tempio di Venere e di Roma: un tempio ‘greco’ nell’Urbe. In RM 85: 397-410. Birley, R.A. 1997. Hadrian. The restless emperor. London: Routledge. Bousquet, J. 1938. Le temple d’Aphrodite et d’Arès à Sta Lenikà. In BCH 62: 387-408. Bruneau, Ph., Ducat, J. 2005. Guide de Délos (Sites et monuments 1). Paris: De Boccard; Athènes: École française d‘Athènes. Cahill, N., Greenewalt jr., C.H. 2016. The Sanctuary of Artemis at Sardis: Preliminary Report, 2002-2012. In AJA 120, n. 3: 473-507. Coarelli, F. 2016. Pergamo e il Re. Forma e funzioni di una capitale ellenistica (‹Studi Ellenistici›, supplementi III). Pisa, Roma: Fabrizio Serra editore. Di Cesare, R. 2015. La città di Cecrope. Ricerche sulla politica edilizia cimoniana ad Atene (SATAA 11). Atene, Paestum: Scuola Archeologica Italiana di Atene - Pandemos. Donohue, A.A. 1988. Xoana and the Origins of Greek Sculpture (American Classical Studies, 15). Atlanta: Scholars Press. Falezza, G. 2012. I santuari della Macedonia in età romana. Persistenza e cambiamenti del paesaggio sacro tra II secolo a.C. e IV secolo a.C. (Antenor Quaderni 25). Roma: Quasar. Forster Smith, Ch. 1959. Thucydides. Hisotry of the Peloponnesian War. Books V and VI (The Loeb Classical Library). London: Cambridge, MA. Fraioli, F. 2012. Regio IV. Templus Pacis. In A. Carandini con P. Carafa (eds.) Atlante di Roma antica. Biografia e ritratti della città: 281-306. Verona: Electa. Ginouvès, R. 1998. Dictionnaire méthodique de l’architecture grecque et romaine  III. Espaces architecturaux, bâtiments et

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Radt, W. 1988. Pergamon. Geschichte und Bauten, Funde und Erforschung einer antiken Metropole. Köln: DuMont. Servais, J. 1980. Aliki, I. Les deux sanctuaires (Études thasiennes 9). Athènes: École française d‘Athènes. Sporn, K. 2002. Heiligtümer und Kulte Kretas in klassischer und hellenistischer Zeit (Studien zu antiken Heiligtümern, Band 3). Heidelberg: Verlag Archäologie und Geschichte.

Tomlinson, R.A. 1972. Argos and the Argolid. From the End of the Bronze Age to the Roman Occupation. London: Routledge & Paul. Travlos, J. 1971. Bildlexikon zur Topographie des antiken Athen. Tübingen: Wasmuth. Verdelis, N.M. 1964. Ἀνασκαφὴ εἰς θέσιν Σπηλιωτάκη. In ArchDelt 19, Chronika B.1: 121-122. Vollgraff, W. 1907. Fouilles d’Argos. In BCH 31: 139-184.

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Terracotas and Metal

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Images of Dionysos, Images for Dionysos: The God’s Terracottas at Cycladic Sanctuaries Erica Angliker1 Introduction1

figure vase that depicts the god as a master of animals – a precious piece of evidence as it is one of the few surviving Cycladic portrayals of Dionysos from an earlier period.7 A giant kouros left unfinished on the island of Naxos may also be amongst the earliest representations of the god.8 A few redfigure Attic kraters with depictions of Dionysos have recently been discovered at the sanctuary of Despotiko in a building that may have functioned as a hestiatorion.9 The kraters are probably not linked to the cult of Dionysos as this sanctuary hosted a cult of Apollo; more likely the ceramic items were used exclusively for ritual meals. Nonetheless, these works indicate an awareness of Dionysos in the Cyclades. More significant images of and for the god appear at particular sanctuaries on the islands of Kea, Naxos, Amorgos and Delos.

A recent survey of cult practices in the Cyclades has revealed that Dionysos was worshipped in both the private and public sphere on at least eleven islands of the Cycladic archipelago (Amorgos, Andros, Delos, Ios, Kea, Melos, Mykonos, Naxos, Paros, Siphnos and Thera).2 Six of these (Amorgos, Andros, Delos, Kea, Naxos, Thera) had sanctuaries dedicated to Dionysos, three of which (Amorgos, Kea, Naxos) were of considerable size. The existence of large Dionysian sanctuaries in the archipelago is remarkable because though Dionysos was worshipped throughout Greece, he was generally granted small sanctuaries. Substantial ones, therefore, were exceptional.3 Although not all material retrieved from Cycladic sanctuaries has been fully published, what is currently available offers a unique opportunity to examine tangible traces of the god.

Let us begin our discussion with images of Dionysos. Although there is no direct evidence associating images found at Cycladic sanctuaries with Dionysos, there are many highly compelling features that permit us to infer a link with the god. The most ancient of these comes from the sanctuary at Ayia Irini on Koressia, one of the four cities on the island of Kea.10 The sanctuary was active without interruption from the Middle Bronze Age until the 3rd century BC.11 Of particular interest to the present study is an Iron Age shrine (Room 1), which was found intact after being sealed by massive rocks that fell around it during an earthquake in the 8th century BC (Figure 1).12 Discovered here was the reused head of a clay statue, placed on a clay ring-base on the floor (Figure 2).13 The head may be among the earliest representations of Dionysos. The clay statue has been dated to the LC II/LMIB period (15001425 BC) and is one of fifty large-scale terracotta statues of female figures recovered from different parts of the sanctuary (principally in Rooms 1 and 6). The statues are approximately 0.70-1.20m in height and depict bare-breasted women wearing skirts, standing with their hands on their hips, possibly dancing.14 Their meaning has been much debated by scholars, who wonder whether they represent priestesses or various divinities, and whether they were used separately or

Within this context, this paper examines a class of objects bound to the cult of Dionysos in the Cyclades, namely, terracottas used either as images of or for the god.4 Starting from the idea that the region is an ‘islandscape’ that fosters maritime interconnectivity and facilitates the dissemination of ideas, materials and people across the Aegean, we investigate important commonalities of terracotta images of and for Dionysos that have been found on various islands within the archipelago. 5 We analyse the use of these terracottas within their respective archaeological contexts and trace common characteristics of their usage throughout the Cyclades. In order to better understand some of the conspicuous characteristics of these terracottas, we also compare them to what is currently known about images of and for Dionysos from epigraphic evidence and painting on vases. Lastly, we investigate the ephemeral character of the terracottas in their association with the cult of Dionysos. Images of Dionysos in the Cyclades: Terracottas from Kea and Naxos The god Dionysos was well known amongst the Cycladic people. A fragment of a work by Archilochos mentions a dithyrambic song to Dionysos, revealing that he was worshipped on Paros.6 Likewise found on Paros is a black-

Papastamos 1970, p. 55-58 and plates 10-11; Zaphiropoulou 2003, p. 49. 8  Morris 2007. 9  The vases from Despotiko are still unpublished. I thank Yannos Kourayos, the director of the excavations at Despotiko, for making me aware of this recently-discovered material (2016). For general information about the sanctuary of Despotiko see Kourayos 2012 and Kourayos-Daifa-Papajanni 2012. 10  Reger 1997, p.479; Sheedy 2006, p.22. 11  Caskey 1981; Caskey 1984; Caskey 1986; Caskey 1998; Caskey 2009; Gorogianni 2011. 12  The shrine was preserved because some great beams and stones collapsed and fell all around the head of the statue but miraculously did not break it. The heavy stones discouraged subsequent cleaning of this space and prohibited access to the shrine. 13  Caskey 2009. 14  Caskey 1981. For a recent reconstruction of these statues, see Hassaki 2018. 7 

Institute of Classical Studies, School of Advanced Study (University of London). 2  Angliker (unpublished PhD thesis). On archaic sanctuaries in the Cyclades (including some dedicated to Dionysos), see Angliker 2017, p.37-41. 3  Cole 2010. 4  For general problems understanding Dionysic ritual see Otto 1939; Henrichs 1978, 1982 and 2013; Bremmer 2013. 5  See Horden and Purcell 2000. On the interconnectivity of the Aegean see also Brun 1998; Constantakopoulou 2010, 2016 and 2017; Broodbank 2000 and 2014. 6  Archilochos, Fragment 96 (West). 1 

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Figure 1. Plan of the sanctuary in Ayia Irini. After M. Caskey, Courtesy Department of Classics, University of Cincinnati.

Figure 2. Head of terracotta statue reused on a ring base in the Iron Age shrine of the sanctuary at Ayia Irini. Courtesy Department of Classics, University of Cincinnati. all together.15 Regardless of these disputes, all that matters to the present discussion is that the clay head found inside this Iron Age shrine offers suggestive evidence that this same structure was linked to the cult of Dionysos. Indeed, incontestable proof of the god’s cult has been found on an Attic skyphos (6th century BC) inscribed with a dedication to the god by a man named Anthippos from Ioulis (another city on Kea). This artefact was discovered in the SE corner 15 

of Room 1, precisely where the Iron Age shrine is located. Other inscribed ceramics dedicated to Dionysos have also come to light in this room.16 The proximity of the shrine to the place where the inscribed ceramics were found prompted Miriam Caskey, the sanctuary’s excavator, to suggest that all the items in the area were most likely related to the cult of Dionysos.17 The presence of this deity in the sanctuary of 16 

Caskey 2009.

17 

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Figure 3. Lekythos from Attica, black figure with white background (ca. last quarter of the 6 century BC). After Metzger 1994 fig.2. Ayia Irini is, in fact, suggested in various ways. Indeed, his cult here may even predate the Iron Age. The remains of burnt offerings found on an eschara inside the sanctuary are significant, considering that a Mycenaean tablet from Pylos refers to a Dionysian cult associated with an eschara.18 Finally, the uninterrupted practice of cultic activities at Ayia Irini suggests the continuation of the cult. 19

devoted to the god (on Amorgos and Naxos) also served as sites of chthonic cults in very early periods.22 If we accept that the head deposited at the Iron Age shrine is associated with the cult of Dionysos, we can continue to make interesting observations by comparing it to images of the god on ceramics.23 Whatever the meaning of the statue in the Bronze Age, it clearly acquired new significance in the Iron Age shrine. One conspicuous feature of this ensemble is that an object taken from another context was arranged in a composition with other elements to construct a new image (perhaps an effigy of Dionysos?). If we turn to wellknown later depictions of the mask of Dionysos, which was deliberately mounted on a pillar to serve as a cultic image, we find certain similarities to the clay head found at the sanctuary of Ayia Irini.24 The effigy of the god on the pillar was combined with textiles, plants and circular cakes that were affixed to its shoulders. The final composition was therefore ephemeral in nature because all the components were perishable. Indeed, looking at the representation on vases, one wonders whether these images were assembled for a single occasion or were of a more permanent character. The composition at Ayia Irini is centred on the god’s face and is mounted. Here, too, it is impossible to determine whether it was used on a single occasion or intended to be permanent. Obviously, the depictions of Dionysian masks on vases are

If we accept that Dionysos was already being worshipped at Ayia Irini by the Iron Age, then some interesting claims can be made by comparing the Bronze Age head (from the Iron Age shrine at Ayia Irini) with later images of Dionysos, particularly those on Attic vases or described in literary sources. Obviously there is a considerable time gap between the Iron Age head and later materials and sources, but the similarities are conspicuous and may shed some light on the meaning of the image at Ayia Irini. The first characteristic that draws attention is the way in which the Bronze Age head is arranged on the clay base; the excavators immediately interpreted it as a representation of the anodos of Dionysos, a scene that appears on some Attic vases from the 6th to 4th centuries BC (Figure 3).20 The arrangement is not without significance as scenes of the anodos on vases are connected to chthonic rituals, which were also important to the cult practices held at Ayia Irini.21 As chthonic rituals seem to have been an important aspect of the early cult of Dionysos in the Cyclades, it is interesting to note that two other sanctuaries

For a general overview on the chthonic aspects of the cult of Dionysos in the Cyclades see Angliker 2017. For more information about chthonic practices and the cult of Dionysos on Kea, Naxos and Amorgos, see respectively: Caskey 2009; Simantoni-Bournias 2002; Marankou 1998. 23  Berard-Bron 1990; Frontisi-Ducroux 1991 and 2015, p. 319-320. 24  For a discussion of vase images in reference to rituals, see BerardBron 1990 and Frontisi-Ducroux 2015, p. 319-320. 22 

Caskey 2009; Melena 2000-2001. The cult of Dionysos is epigraphically well attested in the first millennium. For a review of Mycenaean evidence of the cult of Dionysos, see Bernabé 2013. 19  Caskey 2009. 20  Metzger 1944. 21  Ibid. 18 

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bearded, while the one from Kea, because it is a reused female face, is not.

the mask with great care, estimated that it was originally between 20 and 22 cm in length.28 She also showed that the clay was of Naxian origin and its painted features identical to Naxian motifs used on ceramics of the Geometric period. The eyes are pierced and contoured with black ink, which was also used for the eyebrows. The chin is very pronounced and displays a painted beard. Lozenges decorate the base of the mask. A small hole was certainly used for threading a strap so that the mask could be affixed either to a human face or to some kind of device. The mask’s large size along with its pierced eyes and holes suggest that it was not brought to the sanctuary and simply dedicated as a votive object, but was probably used ceremoniously before being deposited. 29

The integration of a Dionysian face into a composition with the intention of creating a cult image is a phenomenon also encountered on other islands of the Cyclades. A literary source refers to the crafting of a prosopon of Dionysos on Naxos (where Dionysos was one of the most important divinities of the local pantheon): one version is made from the wood of a fig tree and the other from the wood of a grapevine.25 The literary source mentioning the construction of the cult image of Dionysos from a mask mounted on a pillar is revealing; it attests to the fact that this ritual practice was known in the Cycladic archipelago and was therefore not restricted to the area of Attica.26

Masks were only rarely dedicated in Greek sanctuaries (e.g. in the sanctuary of Artemis in Orthia at Sparta or at the Heraion in both Samos and Tyrins).30 Nevertheless, as shown by Simantoni-Bournias, the Naxian mask is typologically very different from similar items found at Greek sanctuaries. She notes that it actually resembles masks from the Geometric era on Cyprus, an island that maintained close contact with Naxos during this period. She suggests that in this context,

This valuable information also provides us with an opportunity to reinterpret a clay mask found at the sanctuary of Dionysos at Iria on Naxos (Figure 4).27 Dated to 700 BC, the mask is the only item of its kind encountered at the site (Figure 5). It was found in fragmentary condition, but with enough pieces to enable a reconstruction. Simantoni-Bournias, who studied

Figure 4. Sanctuary of Dionysus in Iria, Naxos. Photo by E. Angliker. Ibid. Ibid. 30  For the sanctuary of Artemis Orthia in Sparta see Dawkins 1929 and Carter1987; for the Heraion in Samos, see Jarosch1994, p.92 and plate 70; on Tyrins, see Loucas-Durie 1986. 28 

Ath. III 78c = FGrHist 499 F4. See also comments by Savo 2004, p. 158-159. 26  Berard-Bron 1990; Frontisi-Ducroux 1991 and 2015, p. 319-320. 27  Simantoni-Bournias 2004-2005. 25 

29 

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Figure 5. Mask of Dionysos from the sanctuary of Iria on Naxos. After Simantoni-Bournias 2004-2005, p.121, fig.1. the Naxian mask would have served a similar function to that of its prototype on Cyprus, where masks were dedicated at sanctuaries hosting cults of a female fertility goddess and her consort.31 Given that the sanctuary at Iria on Cyprus houses a cult of Dionysos, Simantoni-Bournias hypothesizes that the female divinity may have been Ariadne (whose cult is attested to by literary sources linked to Naxian traditions) and whose consort is Dionysos. 32 Interesting as this hypothesis may be, it is problematic insofar as there is no evidence indicating that Ariadne was worshipped at Iria. Furthermore, in view of the evidence from Kea and Naxian literary sources referring to the prosopon of Dionysos, it seems more reasonable to interpret this mask as an object used to construct the image of Dionysos in ways similar to those seen in representations on 31  32 

ceramics (Figure 6). Like these, the mask from Iria may have been an ephemeral representation of Dionysos in which his image was formed by joining his face to different materials. Such an interpretation of the mask is also in keeping with other evidence of the cult of Dionysos at Iria. Indeed, as in Ayia Irini, the cults at Iria included chthonic practices, which likewise existed on Amorgos (see below). In addition to the observation that the mask was probably used as an effigy of Dionysos, some other general claims can be made regarding the Dionysian cult at Iria on Naxos. The sanctuary was active for a long period, from the Bronze Age until the Roman era. 33 As in the case of Ayia Irini on Kea, it is

Simantoni-Bournias 2004-2005. Ibid.

For an identification of the sanctuary at Iria on Naxos with Dionysos, see Simantoni-Bournias 2002. 33 

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Figure 6. Red-figure kylix, Berlin F 2290. After Frontisi-Ducroux 2015, pl.XXVI. difficult to affirm whether Dionysos was worshiped in earlier periods (e.g. during the Bronze and Iron Ages). However, the god was probably venerated at Iria during the Archaic period.34 Given the fact that this was a rural sanctuary in which various communities from Naxos would gather, one may assume that the cult was also bound to rituals related to the female world, particularly to marriage.35 Indeed the great quantity of jewellery and protomes suggests the existence of a cult with a strong connection to the female universe.36

Let us begin by considering clay figurines found at the sanctuary at Iria on Naxos. These terracottas date to some time between the Archaic and Hellenistic periods and include statuettes of an enthroned goddess, as well as figurines of children and other female figures (Figure 7).39 Most of these terracotta items are similar to those found at other Greek sanctuaries. In the Cyclades, for example, similar objects have surfaced at the sanctuaries of Apollo on Despotiko or the Delion on Paros (dedicated to Apollo and Artemis).40 Save the protomes, which are known to have been associated with marriage rituals, most do not reveal any specific information about the prerogatives of Dionysos,41 Beyond this, only general remarks can be made. The number and variety of votives from Iria (to which the clay items belong) can be interpreted as indicative of the sanctuary’s importance in bringing together urban and rural communities.42

Images for Dionysos in the Cyclades: Terracottas from Naxos, Amorgos and Delos Moving now to images dedicated to Dionysos, we find ourselves on more solid terrain, where objects can incontrovertibly be associated with the cult of the god. Terracottas dedicated to Dionysos have come to light at four sanctuaries: Ayia Irini (Kea), Iria (Naxos), Delos and Amorgos.37 Interesting to note is that the previously discussed images of Dionysos were found at the sanctuaries of Kea and Naxos. In this section, we discuss solely those terracotta objects presented to the god at the sanctuaries of Iria (Naxos), Amorgos and Delos.38

Moving now to the sanctuary of Minoa (Figure 8), a city on the island of Amorgos, we find some unique terracottas dedicated to Dionysos; in particular, phallus-spouted kantharoi.43 The clay used in these over-sized vases is crude; moreover, the phallus communicates with the body of the vase through a channel (Figure 9). Although vases with appended male genitalia are common in antiquity and are sometimes associated with Dionysos, the kantharos with a spouted phallus is not particularly common.44 Most of the phallus-

Simantoni-Bournias 2002. Evidence from coins clearly indicates that Dionysos was already being worshiped on Naxos by the Archaic period; see Sheedy 2006, p.87-88. 35  Simantoni-Bournias 2002. 36  For the relation between the dedication of protomes and the rituals of marriage see Muller 2009. 37  Kea: Caskey 2009; Amorgos: Marankou 2002a; Marankou 2002b; Naxos: Simantoni-Bournias 2002; Delos: Bruneau 1970, p.314-319. 38  Because votives from the sanctuary at Ayia Irini on Kea are only partially published, the figurines from this site cannot be included in the present discussion. 34 

Simantoni-Bournias 2004-2005. For the sanctuary of Apollo on Despotiko, see Kourayos-DaifaPapajanni 2012; for the Delion on Paros see Rubensohn 1962, p.143154. 41  Simantoni-Bournias 2015. For the relation of protomes and rituals of marriage, see Muller 2009. 42  Simantoni-Bournias 2002 and 2015. 43  Marankou 2002a; Marankou 2002b. 44  Malama 2009. 39  40 

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Figure 7. Terracotta figurines from Naxos. After Simantoni-Bournias 2015, p. 493, figs. 4-5.

Figure 8. Amorgos, Minoa. Aerial view of the acropolis and lower city. After Marankou 2006, p. 297, fig. 445. spouted kantharoi from the sanctuary of Minoa Amorgos date to the Early Hellenistic period; some, however, are older. Most of the vases were found in the deposits of the sanctuaries, but several were uncovered in a nearby cave that is likewise associated with the cult of Dionysos.45

were discovered. This sanctuary, which flourished from the Geometric period until Imperial times, was built on the summit of the acropolis and served as the city’s principal cultic site (Figure 10).46 It was organized around an oikos (Room

A brief look at some features of the sanctuary at Minoa can help us understand the context in which the kantharoi

46 

45 

During the Roman period, the cult of Dionysos seems to have been absorbed by the cult of Egyptians gods; lamps, lamp fragments, plain pottery, cooking vessels and drinking cups portray themes related to Egyptian iconography (e.g. Harpocrates, Ammon-Sarpis, Osiris and Isis). See Marankou 2002a.

Marankou 2002a.

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Figure 9. Kantharoi with phallus from the sanctuary of Dionysos on Minoa. After Marankou 2002b, p. 259, figs. 241.1-3. K1), which was furnished with an altar (for making offerings) and benches (for holding banquets). Preceding Room K1 was a prodomos. (Both Room K1 and the prodomos were built during the Geometric period). In the Early Archaic era, the sanctuary was expanded with the addition of Rooms K2 and K3. Room K2 was similarly provided with a bench. During most of its existence, the cult was practised in the open air; consequently, it was only during the Hellenistic period that Room K1 received a roof. Other areas of the sanctuary (Rooms K2 and K3) continued to host open-air cultic activities. Interestingly, though new structures (Rooms K2 and K3) were added to the sanctuary in the Early Archaic period, in Minoa, as in the case of Ayia Irini on Kea, a canonical Greek temple was never constructed. Lack of resources fails to explain the decision not to grant the temple a monumental form, as in the Archaic era, the Amorgians had sufficient means to import marble statues and other precious objects.47

Let us now turn again to the phallus-spouted kantharoi from Minoa and discuss their use in the ritual practices of the sanctuary. The inscriptions found at Minoa are quite summary and do not provide specific information about the cult of Dionysos.51 Nevertheless, certain hypotheses can be made upon careful inspection of the vases. As the channel inside the phallus makes the vessel suitable for pouring liquids, the vases could have been used as rhytons. In addition to this function, however, the Minoan kantharoi could have played an important role in ritual processions, in which they would have been carried around the city before being deposited at the sanctuary. That they were made of crude pottery and that several were found at the sanctuary suggests that they were produced periodically. Although no written sources mention processions with phalluses on Amorgos, we may infer that much as in the phallic processions on Delos (see the discussion below), the Amorgian vases were carried around and then discarded after the procession or some other cultic ceremony. The disposal of the vases implies their ephemeral nature, a quality that recurs in terracottas related to the cult of Dionysos in the Cyclades (see the discussion of the sanctuaries of Ayia Irini and Iria on Naxos).

In Minoa (again, as at Ayia Irini on Kea), indisputable evidence of the cult of Dionysos dates to the later phases of the sanctuary.48 Black glazed vases dating to the Early Hellenistic period and inscribed with the name of Dionysos offer evidence of a cult dedicated to the god. Nevertheless, as with Iria on Naxos and Ayia Irini on Kea, the cult in Minoa was practised without interruption from a very early period until the cessation of activities at the sanctuary. Most interesting, however, is the fact that in Minoa (as in the case of Naxos and Kea) the cult of Dionysos was associated with chthonic practices.49 Yet, differently than in Naxos and Kea, where the sanctuaries were located in rural areas, in Minoa the worship of Dionysos took place within the boundaries of the city. 50

That phallus processions (phallophoria) were quite common in Ancient Greece has been well attested; it would be no surprise, therefore, for them to have also taken place on Amorgos. Iconographically, the best-known phallic procession is the one depicted on a unique Attic black-figure kylix (ca. 550), whose provenance is unknown and which is currently on exhibit at the Florence National Archaeological Museum (inv. n. 3897) (Figure 11).52 This vase bears phallic

Marankou 2002a. Caskey 2009. 49  For Naxos see Simantoni-Bournias 2002; for Kea, see Caskey 2009. 50  Marankou 2002a. 47 

Marankou 2002b. This unique vase has been studied by a variety of scholars and is associated with a long bibliography. Some of the more important

48 

51  52 

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K2 K1 K3

K/A2

K/A1

Sanctuary of Amorgos

N

0

1

2m

Figure 10. Plan of the sanctuary of Minoa on Amorgos. T. Ross after Marankgou 1998, p. 16. processions on both its sides. On the principal side, six naked ithyphallic men carry a long pole that bears a resemblance to a phallus. The object has an eye on its extremity. In the back row, one man helps the others, while, in the front row, a child does the same. A large phallus with ears and eyes depicted along its entire extent rises at an angle. A huge Satyr stands over the pole and is himself straddled by a youth. The other side of the vase bears a simple composition with three bearded and three young men caring a pole in the shape of a phallus. This pole is straddled by a huge, grotesque male figure.

celebrations (agrois), phallic processions would have passed through several parts of Athens.53 Processions that used phalluses in rituals involving Dionysos also took place on other Cycladic islands, such as Delos.54 Inventories from the sanctuary on Delos, which range from 304 BC to around 166 BC, refer to the construction of an agalma with a phallus in place of a head being borne in a cart during a procession.55 While a new agalma would have been constructed each year, the cart, to which repairs were made when necessary, was used over and over again. Inscriptions also provide information about the agalma regarding the salaries of the artisans and the details of the cart’s construction. Particularly interesting is the detailed description of the object’s material composition, which included wood, nails, lead and wax. The agalma was a hybrid creature: a giant bird with wings and a phallus in place of its head.56 An image of such a

Phallic processions are also attested to by literary and epigraphic evidence, which indicates that they were held in Athens during festivals honouring Dionysos in the month of Poseidon. In their earlier days, these festivals clearly celebrated fertility. Moreover, in the course of rural Dionysian

Buschor 1943; Nilsson 1955, p.591; Kerényi 1976, p.285-288; Burkert 1983, p.69; Veyne 1985; Simon 2002; Iozzo 2009. 54  Bruneau 1970, p. 314-319. 55  A detailed study of the inscriptions of the Delian inventories are found in Bruneau 1970, p. 314-319. 56  Although the phallus-bird is usually interpreted as a disembodied expression of female sexual desire, on Delos it is clearly associated with Dionysos. See Boardman 1992. 53 

references include: Deubner 1932, p. 136; Rumpf 1928, fig. 129; Boardman 1958, fig. 4; Boardman-La Rocca 1978, p.38-40; Boardman 1988, n. 255; Carpenter 1986, p .89, pl. 22; Carpenter 1997, p. 28; Lissarrague 1990, p. 59; Lissarrague 2001, p.215 and p.175-176; Krauskopf 2005; Iozzo 2009.

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Figure 11. Attic black-figure kylix (ca. 550 BC). After Iozzo 2009, p. 261. hybrid appears on a relief decorating one of the columns of the Choragic monument of Karystios (GD 81), which is part of an altar dedicated to Dionysos.57 The evidence from Delos is particularly informative about the phallus-spouted kantharoi from Amorgos. Indeed, inventories make clear that the periodic construction of the statue was of fundamental importance to cultic activity. Once more we see the ephemeral nature of an object presented to Dionysos. Although the phallus-spouted kantharos and the hybrid bird from Delos are not identical objects, they have many similarities; both consist of a crude image (with a phallus) that is carried around in a ceremony and finally discarded, and both seem to have been fundamental to the practice of the cult of Dionysos. Conclusion The Cyclades are privileged for the understanding of the cult of Dionysos; the islands possess a number of sanctuaries dedicated to the god, some of considerable size. As evidence from Cycladic sanctuaries comes to light, it presents a rare opportunity for studying images related to the cult of Dionysos within their proper context. Although this paper could not fully explore the Dionysian cult, it manages to further knowledge on the topic by examining the relevance of a particular class Figure 12. Monument of Karystios with phallus-bird, Delos. Photo by E. Angliker.

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of objects, namely terracottas. The material discussed herein (images of Dionysos and images for Dionysos, from the Cyclades) has not yet been properly incorporated into studies about the images of the god. One of the oldest representations of Dionysos comes from the sanctuary of Ayia Irini on Kea, where a Bronze Age statue was reused in an Iron Age sanctuary in a composition recalling the scene of the anodos of Dionysos, which appears on later Attic ceramics. Turning to the island of Naxos, we encounter a clay mask, which was reinterpreted as a prosopon of Dionysos, and which seems to have been attached to a pillar to create an effigy of the god. Both terracottas – from Kea and Naxos – were intended to be ephemeral images, first composed, then discarded. Interestingly, both images were also used in a cult that included chthonic practices. Cycladic sanctuaries have also revealed a number of terracottas dedicated to Dionysos. While on Naxos these consist of seated figurines and protomes (items common at other Cycladic and Greek sanctuaries), on Amorgos and Delos they are more singular objects. On Amorgos, kantharoi with phalluses made of crude clay were produced periodically to be carried in a procession and afterwards discarded. On Delos, inventories show that a hybrid creature (a bird with a phallus head) was periodically constructed and carried in a procession. At both sanctuaries, therefore, images for Dionysos were produced periodically, carried in a procession, then discarded (Figure 12). The images for Dionysos from the sanctuary of Minoa on Amorgos, as well as those from Delos, are clearly ephemeral items. This same quality can be attributed to images of Dionysos from Ayia Irini on Kea and from the sanctuary of Iria on Naxos. Images of and for Dionysos, therefore, seem to have shared a common characteristic; namely, they were ephemeral.

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Cycladic Archaeology And Research: New Approaches and Discoveries. Archeopress, Oxford. Henrichts, A. 1978. ‘Greek Maenadism from Olympias to Messalina.’ Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 82:121–160. Henrichts, A. 1982. ‘Changing Dyonysic Identities.’ In Selfdefinition in the Graeco-Roman World, edited by B. F. Meyer and E. P. Sanders, 137–160. Jewish and Christian SelfDefinition. SCM Press. Henrichts, A. 2013. ‘Dionysos: One or Many?’ In Redefining Dionysos, edited by A. Bernabé [et al.], 554–582. Berlin: De Gruyter. Horden, P., and N. Purcell. 2000. The Corrupting Sea. A Study of Mediterranean History. Oxford: Blackwell Publishers. Kerényi, K. 1976. Dionysos. Archetypal Image of Indestructable Life. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Kourayos, Y., K. Daifa and K. Papajanni. 2012. ‘The Sanctuary of Despotiko in the Cyclades. Excavation 2001-2012.’ Archäologischer Anzeiger 2:93–174. Kourayos, Y. 2012. Despotiko. The Sanctuary of Apollo. Athens: Paul and Alexandra Canelopoulos Foundation. Krauskopf, I. 2005. ‘Kultinstrumente, Wagen, Traggestelle und Schiffe.’ ThesCRA, no. 5: 286–295. Lissarrague, F. 1990. ‘The Sexual Life of Satyrs.’ In Before Sexuality. The Construction of Erotic Experience in the Ancient Greek World, edited by J. J. Winkler D. M. Halperin and F. I. Zeitlin, 53–81. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Lissarrague, F. 2001. Greek Vases: The Athenians and Their Images. New York: Riverside Book Co. Loucas-Durie, E. 1986. ‘θóνιo δρώμενoν και τελετoυργική μύηση. Παρατήρηση στά αρχαϊκά αργoλικά πρoσωπεία’. Πρακτικά τoυ B’ Toπικoύ Συνεδρίoυ Aργoλικών Σπoυδών, Άργoς 30 Mαϊoυ - 1 Ioυνίoυ, 299-302. Malama, P. 2009. ‘Kantharos with a Phallus-Shaped Spout. Late 4th - Early 3rd cent. BC.’ In Eros. From Hesiodo’s Theogony to Late Antiquity, edited by N. C. Stempolidis and Yorgos Tassoulas, 278. Athens: Museum of Cycladic Art. Marankou, L. 1998. ‘The Acropolis Sanctuary of Minoa on Amorgos. Cult Practice from the 8th century B.C. to the 3rd century A.D.’ In Ancient Greek Cult Practice from the Archaeological Evidence: Proceedings of the Fourth International Seminar on ancient Greek Cult, Organized by the Swedish Institute at Athens, 22-24 October 1993, edited by R. Hägg, 9–25. Stockholm: Svenska Institutet i Athen: Paul Aströms Förlag. Marankou, L. 2002a. ‘Minoa on Amorgos.’ In Excavating Classical Culture: Recent Archaeological Discoveries in Greece, edited by M. Stamatopoulou and M. Yeroulanou, 295–316. Oxford: Archaeopress. Marankou, L. 2002b. Αμοργός Ι. Η Μινώα: η πόλις, ο λιμήν και η μείζων περιφέρεια. Vol. II. Athens: Athenais Archaiologike Hetaireia. Marankou, L. 2006. ‘Amorgos.’ In Archaeology Aegean Islands, edited by A. G. Vlachopoulos, 290–297. Athens: Melissa.

Metzger, H. 1944. ‘Dionysos chthonien d’après les monuments figurés de la période classique.’ Bulletin de correspondance hellénique 68-69:296–339. Moretti, J. C. 2008. ‘Un autel de Dionysos à Delos.’ Bulletin de correspondance hellénique 1 (132): 115–152. Morris, S. P. 2007. ‘Apollo, Dionysos and Zeus: On the Sacred Landscapes of Ancient Naxos.’ In Αμύμονα έργα: τιμητικός τόμος για τον καθηγητή Β. Κ. Λαμπρινουδάκη, 96–108. Archaiognosia. Muller, A. 2009. ‘Le tout ou la partie. Encore les protomés: dédicateires ou dédicantes?’ In Le donateur, l’offrande et la déesse: systèmes votifs dans les sanctuaires de déesses du monde grec, edited by C. Prêtre, vol. Supplément 23, 81–95. Kernos. Liège: Centre international d’étude de la religion grecque antique. Nilsson, M. P. 1955. Geschichte der Griechischen Religion. Die Religion Griechenlands bis auf die griechische Weltherrschaft. Vol. I. München: C.H. Beck’sche Verlagsbuchhandlung. Otto, W. F. 1939. Dionysos. Mythos und Kultus. Frankfurt am Main: Klostermann. Papastamos, D. 1970. Melische Amphoren. Münster: Aschendorff. Reger, G. 1997. ‘Islands with one Polis Versus Islands with Several Polis.’ In The Polis as an Urban Centre and as Political Community. Symposium August, 29-31 1996, edited by M. H. Hansen, 4:450–492. Copenhagen: Munksgaard. Rubensohn, O. 1962. Das Delion von Paros. Wiesbaden: Steiner. Rumpf, A. 1928. ‘Die Religion der Griechen.’ In Bilderatlas zur Religionsgeschichte, edited by Hans Haas, 13–14. Leipzig: Erlangen. Savo, M. B. 2004. Culti, Sacerdozi e Feste delle Cicladi dell’età arcaica all’età romana. Tivoli: Tored. Sheedy, K. A. 2006. The Archaic and Early Classical Coinages of the Cyclades. London: Royal Numismatic Society. Simantoni-Bournias, E. 2002. ‘The Early Phases of the Hyria Sanctuary on Naxos. An Overview of the Pottery.’ In Excavating Classical Culture: Recent Archaeological Discoveries in Greece, edited by M. Stamatopoulou and M. Yeroulanou, 269–280. Oxford: Archaeopress. Simantoni-Bournias, E. 2004-2005. ‘Un masque humain à Hyria Naxos, nouveau témoignage de contacts chypriotes.’ Bulletin de correspondance hellénique 128-129 (119-131). Simantoni-Bournias, E. 2015. ‘Enthroned Goddesses from the Sanctuary of Hyria on Naxos.’ In Figurines de terre cuite en Méditerranée grecque et romaine, edited by E. Lafla_and A. Muller, vol. 2, Iconographie et contextes, 487–494. Villeneuve d’Ascq: Presses universitaires du Septentrion. Simon, E. 2002. Festivals of Attica. Madison-Wisconsin: University of Wisconsin Press. Veyne, P. 1985. ‘Une inscription dionysiaque peu commune.’ Bulletin de correspondance hellénique 109 (1): 621–624. Zapheiropoulou, Ph. N. 2003. La céramique ‘mélienne’. Paris: De Boccard.

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An Unusual Sympotic Scene on a Silver Cup from Ancient Thrace: Questions of Iconography and Manufacture Amalia Avramidou1 Ancient1Thrace covers an area that comprises modern-day Bulgaria and parts of Greece, Turkey, and Romania. The region is traditionally defined by the Istros River (modern Danube) to the north, the Aegean Sea to the south, and the Black Sea to the east. In antiquity, the land was rich in natural resources, including precious metals, and it was used for agriculture and pasture. Ancient Thrace was also endowed with navigable rivers and hospitable harbors. The western limits are hard to pinpoint, because of the constant movement of numerous Thracian tribes and political developments before and after the formation of the Macedonian Kingdom. Scholars usually accept the Strymon River as its western limit, and eventually the Nestos River after the Macedonian conquest of Thrace by Philip II. Of all the local tribes, the Odrysians rose to power and ruled over much of Thrace, creating the longest-standing political entity in the region for centuries.2

society and economy. Relations were officially cultivated by the Athenian state in the fifth century BCE, following the end of the Persian Wars, and they expanded after the formation of the Odrysian Kingdom at the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War. Seeking goods, new markets, and strong allies to promote her political and economic goals, Athens turned to the North to influence Greek colonial activity and to procure the support of wealthy Thracian neighbors. However, Athenian power in the region began to fade by the end of the fifth century BCE and more so with the Macedonian conquests of the following century. By the end of the fourth century BCE, the political scene in the northern Aegean and its periphery became more complicated, confounding further the relations between the Athenians and both their Greek and non-Greek allies and adversaries.4 Within this sociopolitical framework, it should come as no surprise that Athenian pottery reached coastal and inland Thrace in large quantities.5 The Athenians tried to foster stronger ties with the Odrysian aristocracy, employing what we might call today cultural diplomacy. One of the most efficient policies was that of gift-giving and giftexchange, a well-known tradition among friends and allies, be it individuals or states. The Athenians understood that the Odrysians had a soft-spot for gold and luxury items, and they purposefully cultivated it.6 A significant number of silver vessels decorated with gold-leaved narrative scenes, executed in a fashion very similar to the Attic red-figure vases of the last quarter of the fifth century BCE, are thought to have been constructed for this very purpose. They were diplomatic gifts that Athens offered to the Odrysian rulers to promote her interests.7

Because of its strategic border position between Europe and Asia, ancient Thrace attracted Greek colonists from an early period, especially those from Ionia and the Cycladic Islands. By the sixth century BCE, Greek trading posts and colonies were established across the Thracian coast of the Aegean and the western coast of the Black Sea. Later emporia would appear inland near rivers and commercial routes (e.g. Pistiros/ Vetren, Rousse) that developed along the periphery of coastal colonies. The colonization process was long and had manifold consequences for both the Greek immigrants and the local Thracians.3 Athens showed a keen interest in Thrace already by the sixth century BCE, when members of two prominent aristocratic families, Peisistratos and Miltiades I, became vested in the area. Their presence resulted in the exploitation of the silver mines at Mt Pangaion, and eventually led to the establishment of Athenian colonies and contacts with the indigenous communities. All this activity had an impact on Athenian

On Athens and Thrace, see most recently Sears 2015 and 2013; Avramidou–Tsiafaki 2015: 46–59, 112–131; Porozhanov 2011; Tsiafaki 1998. 5  In 2015, the Democritus University of Thrace and the Athena Research Center launched the research project Attic Pottery in Thrace (APT), which includes an overview of the circulation, diffusion, and usage of Attic vases in coastal and inland Thracian sites. For the preliminary results of the project, see Avramidou and Tsiafaki 2015: 112–136 and forthcoming. For an overview of different pottery wares in ancient Thrace, see Bozkova 2015 and 2017. On previous studies on Attic pottery in Thrace, see Lazarov 2003 and Reho 1990. Also, cf. Giudice, Giudice and Santagati forthcoming; Sahin 2017. For an examination of the iconography of Attic vases in Thrace with metal counterparts, see Tiverios forthcoming and Avramidou and Tsiafaki 2015: 112–136, 145–172. For Attic red–figure vases imitating Thracian shapes, see Oakley 2009; Lezzi-Hafter 1997. 6  Thucydides 2.97.4; Xenophon Anabasis 7.3.21–33. 7  For a study on Athens and its relation to silverware found in ancient Thrace, see Sideris 2015; Cf. Zimi 1994, who compares Macedonian and Thracian fourth–century BCE vessels, and Sideris 2008, Zournatzi 2000 for the circulation of Achaemenid(-style) luxury vases. For a concise overview of metal vessels in Thrace, their uses and relation to Greek and Persian art, see Valeva 2015. Cf. also the recent publications of luxury metal vases from Thrace, such as Zhuravliev and Firsov 2013; Marazov 2011. For the role of gift–giving in Athenian–Thracian 4 

Asst. Prof. of Classical Archaeology, Democritus University of Thrace On the geography of ancient Thrace, see Bouzek and Graninger 2015, with previous bibliography and references to the ancient authors. For a selection of recent work on the history of Thrace and its numerous tribes, see Graninger 2015; Delev 2014 and 2005; Theodossiev 2011 and 2000; Bouzek 2004; Boshnakov 2003; BotevaBoyanova 2000; Popov 1999; Tomaschek 1980. For an overview of the Odrysian kingdom, see Porozhanov 2011; Archibald 1998; and the exhibition catalogue of Martinez et alii 2015, providing an impressive glimpse of the Thracian elite. 3  The bibliography on Greek colonization is immense. A small sample of recent titles relevant to colonies and emporia include: Archibald 2016; 2013; Damyanov 2015; Tzochev 2015; Zahrnt 2015; McInerney 2014; Cifani and Stoddart 2012; Demetriou 2012; Tiverios 2008; Grammenos and Petropoulos 2007; 2003; Bravo and Chankowski 1999; Tsetskhladze 1994; Loukopoulou 1989; Isaac 1986. On Pistiros (Vetren), see Pistiros I–VI; against the identification of the site with Pistiros, and Demetriou 2010 and Johnston 1998. On the possibility of an emporion even further north by an offshoot of the Danube at Rousse, see Madzharov forthcoming. 1  2 

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Athanasios Sideris has recently presented an overview of these issues in his monograph on the iconography of Theseus on Attic artifacts from Thrace.8 A good portion of his study involves silverware from the Vassil Bojkov Collection in Sofia.9 Gathering a corpus of 75 silver vessels, Sideris observed that their shapes are related to banqueting and wine-consumption, and he examined this material within the framework of Athenian-Thracian relations. However, the main problem with most luxury vessels is that they have an unknown provenance and are only presumed to originate from ancient Thrace (i.e. tombs of the Thracian elite). There is a chain of intriguing yet hard-to-answer questions associated with these vases, including: (a) the production centers, (b) the ethnicity of craftsmen, (c) the manufacture and cost of the vessels, and (d) their usage before being used in the majority of cases as burial-gifts.

Turning to the sympotic scene in the tondo, a young man on the left sits on the edge of a kline holding a kithara and a plektron as he faces his fellow symposiast.14 Both are attired in what may be called the Thracian style (Figure 2): The musician wears a pointed headgear with a fur undercoat over his long hair, an alopeke.15 His knee-length, girted garment is a rather thick, short dress – a chitoniskos or short peplos, according to Sideris.16 On top a rosette-decorated chlamys falls on his back, which is perhaps the zeira mentioned in the ancient sources and possibly illustrated on Attic vase-paintings.17 Tall, laced boots protect his feet. The kline is covered with voluminous fringed and patterned textiles, recalling the Thracian wools and embroidery mentioned in the sources,18 while a footstool or perhaps a table is stored underneath. Opposite the musician, a beardless symposiast lies on the kline in a leisurely fashion. With his left hand, he holds a rather large empty kantharos, suggestive of the wine consumed during the feast. Reclining on his left elbow, he rests his right hand on his forehead, head tilted backwards, deeply enjoying the music and the wine – a motif reminiscent of similar depictions of the early Attic red figure.19 Several locks of hair escape from his pointed cap. His garment, a long girted peplos, is rather surprising compared to the seated figure.20

The same issues listed above apply to the silver cup from the Bojkov Collection examined in this paper.10 The vessel is a silver kylix of Rheneia-type (small, shallow, stemless cup with pi-shaped handles) with an unusual sympotic scene on its interior (Figure 1). It has a height of nearly 3 cm, a diameter of 12 cm, and weighs approximately 182 grams. A gilt ivy wreath adorns the inner wall of the rim, while a laurel branch defines the circular pictorial space. Both attributes are subtle references to dionysiac and apollonian elements.

The scene described above is bewildering on many levels. At first, one may argue that the musician is Orpheus performing in front of one of his fellow Thracians, but none of the known representations of Orpheus playing music for a Thracian audience takes place in a sympotic setting. On the contrary, Athenian vase-paintings portray Orpheus seated on a rock surrounded by Thracian warriors in the wilderness of the Thracian countryside.21 It is unlikely that this figure should be identified with the renowned musician. Moreover, Orpheus is commonly depicted on Attic vases in a simple himation following the Greek fashion, and after the middle of the fifth century BCE he is occasionally represented in the Thracian style.

The execution of the tondo scene is Meidianizing, and stylistic comparisons to contemporary Athenian vase-painters suggests a date of ca. 420-410 BCE.11 The style, shape, and iconography of the silver kylix implies the involvement of an Athenian workshop. Indeed, Athens was an important center for metalworking in the fifth century BCE, but one cannot rule out the possibility that silver vases like the Bojkov cup were manufactured in one of the northern Greek colonies.12 The colonies were aware of the artistic trends originating from Athenian workshops, and moreover they had direct access to the raw materials and were themselves close to the targeted clientele. It is impossible to define whether the metalsmith responsible for such a vase was Athenian, Ionian, or non-Greek. The only observation one can make is that the craftsman was familiar with the conventions and repertory of the Athenian red figure, either through the direct experience of having worked in a ceramic workshop or indirectly through the circulation of drawings that could be applied on various fabrics.13 This is an important point that will be addressed below.

More unusual is the attire of the two figures, who are both dressed in a peculiar fashion. The thick garment of the kithara-player is girted like a peplos,22 while the long peplos of the reclining symposiast is a dress exclusively for females. However, neither figure could be construed as female because of their anatomy and their headgear, which is never worn by women, not even Amazons.23 Furthermore, the only women discussion below. 14  Sideris 2015: 67–69; Marazov 2011: 70. 15  On the peculiar spotted fur of the head gear, see Sideris 2015: 68. 16  ibid. 17  Sears 2015: 315–316. 18  Hall 1989: 137–138. 19  Most parallels date from ca. 525-470 BCE, e.g., the stamnos by Smikros in Brussels (Musées Royaux A717, BADN 200102) and the fragmentary calyx krater by Euphronios in Munich (Antikensammlungen 9400+, BADN 275007), but there are also examples from after the middle of the fifth century BCE, such as the column krater in Vienna (Kunsthistorisches Museum, Antikensammlung 824, BADN 11176). 20  Sideris 2015: 67–69; Marazov 2011: 70. 21  E.g., LIMC VII s.v. Orpheus: 84–85, nos. 7–16, 22–26 and 99–100 for commentary [M.–X. Garezou]. On the iconography of Orpheus on Attic vases, see Avramidou and Tsiafaki 2015: 75–78; Tsiafaki 1998: 77–93. 22  On the dress of the citharoid, see Ercoles 2014. 23  Of the corpus of Amazons depicted in Greek Art, there are several examples of female warriors with a pointed or rounded oriental cap

relations, see Mitchell 1997, esp. 134–147; Sears 2013: 208-217. 8  Sideris 2015, esp. 19–46. 9  Marazov 2011. 10  Sideris 2015: 67–69, no. 19, fig. 84–86; Zhuravliev and Firsov 2013: 224–225, no. 76 date it to 430 BCE; Marazov 2011: 70–71, no. 50 dates it to 430–425 BCE. 11  E.g., there are several similarities to the female figure seated by the altar on the famous hydria by the Meidias Painter in the British Museum (BADN 220497). These include: heavy chin; long, slightly pointed nose; an iris that does not touch the bottom eyelid; long straight eyebrows with a second line to indicate the eyelid; rather small, protruding lips; elongated, graceful fingers. 12  Sideris 2015: 13-14, 57–78, esp. p. 57 for his criteria for ascribing silver vessels to the Athenian toreutic production; Acton 2014: 67, 116–146; Vickers and Gill 1994; 1990; Mattusch 1977. 13  Cf. the pencil drawing on parchment by Parrhasios that was in circulation and studied by later artists, or even his smaller (thus portable) images of immodest nature: Pliny HN 35.36. On the aptitude of artists/craftsmen to work with different materials, see the

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Figure 1. A musician and a reclining symposiast dressed in Thracian style. Silver kylix from the Vassil Bojkov Collection, Sofia. Reproduced with permission from Marazov 2011: 71, no. 50.

Figure 2. A musician and a reclining symposiast dressed in Thracian style. Detail. Silver kylix from the Vassil Bojkov Collection, Sofia. Reproduced with permission from Marazov 2011: 71, no. 50.

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reclining during a symposion on Attic vases are hetairai, and they have a clearly defined anatomy and dress-code.24

They read the scene as a gendered perception of the Orphic mysteries. The gaze of the reclining figure and the fixed look of the kithara-player, along with their female attire, are construed as indications of homoeroticism.

The peplos is a garment exclusively worn by women in Attic vase-painting, except for theme-specific representations of cross-dressing or effeminacy, such as the so-called Anacreontic komasts or ‘Booners,’ to use a term coined by the honoree and Donna Kurtz in their seminal 1986 article.25 But even they do not offer good parallels for the Bozkov figures, since Booners parade in feminine attire with elegant peploi and himatia and have elaborate hairdos in sakkos and stylish parasols in hand.26 Compared to these representation, the reclining symposiast on the Bojkov cup is half as graceful and has very little in common with the Lydian/Eastern fashion of the Anakreontic komasts. It is noteworthy that studies on the clothed body in antiquity have shown that by the Late Classical period, the peplos had become a ceremonial garment used for ritual purposes.27 This requires us to examine the Bojkov cup through a different lens. The symposiast’s peplos – and possibly the short garment of the kitharoid – should be conceived as symbols of otherness and distinction, while one cannot rule out an explanation related to cult or theatrical activities (e.g. the garments worn by actors on the contemporary votive relief from Piraeus).28 Even the unique fur of their alopeke-caps stresses the special character of this convivial meeting.29

I wish to pursue an alternative reading of the scene, this time in combination with the (admittedly) scant information on Kotys (Κότυς) or Kotyto (Κοττυτώ). This deity is usually considered to be of Phrygian origin and one who was worshipped in Thrace with an orgiastic festival. Her name echoes the early fourth-century BCE Odrysian king Kotys I (or perhaps a mythical predecessor).31 Kotyto’s cult is attested at Corinth, Sicily, and the Chersonnesos, but the celebration of the Kotytia in Athens, as her festival was known, is still a matter of controversy among scholars.32 Despite its fragmentary preservation, the Baptai, a comedy by Eupolis and produced around 415 BCE, alludes to a connection between the cult of Kotyto and the scene on the Bojkov cup.33 Kotyto and her festival are also mentioned by Strabo, Horace and Juvenal,34 while the earliest reference comes from Aeschylos’ lost tragedy Edonians.35 Eupolis’ plot emphasizes the priests of Kotyto (as the chorus?), who introduce her mysteries through a certain rite of baptism, thus the title of the comedy.36 As best as one can extract from the surviving 23 fragments, a handful of scholia, and various references in the ancient literature, men dressed in feminine clothes perform orgies and sing in honor of the foreign deity. In his comedy, Eupolis disgraces Alcibiades for taking part in the nocturnal rituals of Kotyto, and scholars believe that the poet may have presented him on stage dipping/being dipped in a tank or dying his hair/garments, depending on the translation of the term baptai.37 Eupolis’ critique against the Athenian general was so harsh and slanderous that it infuriated Alcibiades to the extreme. According to the sources, Alcibiades took his revenge by throwing the poet off the ship (and thus dipping him in the water) while they were both in route to Sicily during the perilous expedition of the Peloponnesian War (415–413 BCE).38

Athanasios Sideris follows Ivan Marazov in associating this scene with Orpheus, and interprets the unusual iconography to the peculiarities of Orphic teaching.30 More specifically, both scholars highlight the importance of music in distributing knowledge and the male followers of Orpheus. that recalls the Scythian style (e.g., Bothmer 1957: 49, no. 110, pl. XXXVIII.5; 91, nos 10, 12, 14, pl. LIX.1–3; 94, no. 31, pl. LX.6; 94, no. 47, LXI.1; 124, nos 7, 8, 9, pl. LXVIII), but none is comparable to the figures on the Bojkov cup, and no Amazon is shown reclining and banqueting. The closest parallel to the headgear can be found on the Amazon depicted in the tondo of the cup signed by Kachrylion now in the Louvre (idem 151, no. 40, pl. LXXII). The pointed cap is occasionally worn by Thracian women attacking Orpheus, e.g. on the stamnos by the Group of Polygnotos, now missing (LIMC VII s.v. Orpheus: 86–87, no. 47). The headgear of the figures on the Bojkov cup is a male attribute, further demonstrated by two Attic red-figure column kraters of ca. 440 BCE (LIMC VII s.v. Orpheus: 84, no. 9–10). 24  On the iconography of the hetairai on Attic vases, see Lewis 2002; Peschel 1987. 25  Kurtz and Boardman 1986. On Anakreontic komasts, see also Miller 1999. 26  Cf. the kalathos by the Brygos Painter (BADN 204129) and the thorough examination on transvestism sparked by the so–called Zewadski stamnos by Miller 1999. Cross–dressing was popular in Attic comedy, while transvestism played a symbolic role in dionysiac rites (cf. Bacchae 821–838; commentary by Seaford 1996: 33, 222), in pre-marriage and other rituals (Miller 1999: 243), in rites in honor of Dionysos Pseudanor in Macedonia (Hatzopoulos 1994: 76–78), and even in private parties (e.g., Douris of Samos [76 F12 apud Athenaios Deipnosophistai 4.41=4.155c] describes how Polysperchon, a commander of Alexander the Great, when drunk, would dress in the female krokotos and Sikyonian slippers, and dance, an unexpected behavior for someone as old and as respected by the Macedonians). 27  E.g. Brons 2014: 91–92; Lee 2005: 51. 28  Kaltsas 2002: 138, no. 264 (Athens, National Archaeological Museum 1500). 29  Sideris 2015: 68. 30  Sideris 2015: 68–69, n. 295 citing Conon in FGrHist 26 F 1.45; Pausanias 9.30.5; Phanocles fr. 1 Powell; Ovidius Metamorphoses 10.83– 85; Hyginus Poetic Astronomy 2.7 in support of the homoerotic and pederastic preferences of Orpheus. Marazov 2011: 70.

Our earliest source is a fragment of Aeschylus Edonians fr. 57 apud Strabo Geography 10.3.16. On Kotyto, see Srebny 1936. For a view supporting the existence of Kotyto’s cult in Thrace and Athens, see Lozanova–Stancheva 1995; contra Storey 2003: 98–101, doubting Kotyto’s cult in Athens and reporting three traditions about the deity: the Thracian goddess associated with Dionysos, the Dorian deity related to agriculture and purification and the Athenian Kotyto, worshipped in an orgiastic manner. 32  For the debate on Kotyto’s cult in Athens and a discussion of earlier bibliography, see Robertson 2010: 53–62 (also on Kotytia in Selinus); Storey 2003: 98–101; Lozanova–Stancheva 1995; Jameson, Jordan and Kotansky 1993: 23–27. For the cult of Kotyto in the Chersonnesus, see Posamentir 2010: 400. For Kotyto in Corinth, see Kopestonsky 2016: esp. 740; Dubbini 2011: 186-200 and Sanders 2010, with previous references. 33  On the date of Eupolis Baptai, see Storey 2003: 108–110; Henderson 1993: 594. 34  Strabo Geography 10.3.16; Horace Epodoi 17.56–7; Juvenal Satires 2.91–8; Also, cf. Libanius fr. 50.2.21. For a full treatment of the sources, see Kyriakidi 2011: 74–77; Robertson 2010: 58; Storey 2003: 94–110. 35  Fr. 57 apud Strabo Geography 10.3.16. 36  For a different meaning of the word baptai as ‘dyers’ rather than ‘immersers’ and its implications to the plot, see Storey 2003: 101–105. 37  Kyriakidi 2011: 74–77; Storey 2003: 101–105. 38  E.g. Cicero Ad Atticus 6.1.18; Tzetzes Prolegomena on Comedy 1 (Koster IX a 1) 88–95 and the thorough discussion on Alcibiades and Eupolis by Storey 2005: 101–105. 31 

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After the catastrophic end of the Sicilian Expedition and his expulsion from Sparta, Alcibiades sought refuge at the Persian court. Despite his behavior, the Athenians restored Alcibiades as general and appointed him at the Hellespont where he ran several missions (both officially and for his own gain) until 408/7 BCE. Literary sources preserve various aspects of the luxurious and often dissolute life of Alcibiades. One learns of his affinity for precious vessels, expensive furniture, embroidery, and other luxury items from the records regarding the confiscation of his property. His strong and polarizing personality caused numerous scandals in Athens; therefore, any mention of his life in contemporary theatrical productions should come as no surprise.39

Moreover, the Meidianizing style of the cup and of similar silver vases45 fares well with the repertory of the Meidias Painter and his Circle, namely their affinity for theatricality, patterned/oriental costumes and dionysiac scenes.46 According to the BAPD, Lucilla Burn’s monograph, and more recent publications,47 the diffusion of pots by the Meidias Painter and his Circle in the Eastern Mediterranean – excluding Athens – concentrates primarily in the Crimea (Phanagoria, Kerch). There is a smaller nucleus in Chalkidike and a more substantial number from Ainos.48 This wealthy Greek colony on the mouth of Hebros River was a close ally of Athens with connections to the Odrysians.49 The city could have functioned as a hub for Athenian imports, providing networks for their diffusion both further inland and down the Bosporus route to the colonies of the Northern Black Sea.

Examining the Bojkov cup through this prism, one could argue that the scene reflects the literary description of the Kotytia in the excerpt of Baptai and elsewhere: singing, feminine attire, and Thracian elements which indicate the foreign character of the festivities. Therefore, instead of interpreting the figure as Orpheus and an extraordinary Thracian follower in a peplos reclining inside an andron, I prefer to explain the scene within this contemporary Athenian reality and the general Athenian fascination with Thracian myths and cults – and Thracian clothing, too, particularly during the second half of the fifth century BCE.40 Also, one should not forget that the Thracian goddess Bendis was officially introduced in Athens in 429 BCE.41

The distinct similarities in style between the vase-painters of the Circle of the Meidias Painter and the engraver of the Bojkov cup (and possibly a few more silver vases)50 raises questions regarding the mutual influence between the two crafts, the circulation of motifs, the manufacturer’s mobility, 2015: 34–41, fig. 28; Marazov 2011: 79–82, no. 53), rhyton with Orpheus’ death (Marazov 2011: 65–67, no. 48); possibly associated with Helen: Orpheus kantharos (Sideris 2015: 34–41, fig. 29, 33), kylix with Hermes and Helen (Sideris 2015: 65-66, fig. 76–79; Marazov 2011: 68–69, no. 49) and kantharos with Paris and Helen (Sideris 2015: 66–67, fig. 81–83; Marazov 2011: 74–78, no, 52); rhyton associated with Melanippe the Wise (Sideris 2015: 72, fig. 92–93; Marazov 2011: 62–64, no. 47) or Tyro Keiromene [Tyro Shorn] (Tiverios 2017); associated with Auge; plate with Auge and Herakles (Sideris 2015: 48, fig. 48). The study of the relation of these vases to Attic plays within the general researchframe of theater in Thrace has been undertaken by the author. 45  On silverware associated with the Meidias Painter and his Circle, see Sideris 2015: 30 (Ariadne kantharos), 60 (Duvanli kylix with Nyx), 67 (Aphrodite kantharos). There are eight Rheneia-type kylikes, dated between around 440–410 BCE that raise several questions regarding the preference for this shape and the transmission of the iconographic motifs. For example, Bellerophon and Pegasos appear almost identical on two Rheneia-type kylikes and an earlier stemmed(?) cup from the Semibratnie tumulus (Sideris 2015: 62–63), let alone the reoccurrence of Theseus, explored in detailed by Sideris in his monograph. The eight cups in question are: Sideris 2015: 19–22 (Theseus and the bull, ca 440 BCE), 32–34 (Theseus and Skiron from Kapinovo tumulus, ca 440-430 BCE), 62–63 (Bellerophon cup from Chernozem and an unpublished vase, ca 430 BCE), 65 (Horseman cup, whereabouts unknown, ca 430-420 BCE), 65–66 (Hermes and Helen cup, ca 420 BCE), 67–69 (Orpheus cup, ca 420–410 BCE), 70–71 (wheel medallion, Solokha tumulus, ca 410–400 BCE). To this group, one should add nine handles that may once belonged to Rheneia cups from the Svetitsa tumulus and an earlier undecorated silver cup from the Yakimova tumulus, 460-450 BCE (Sideris 2015: 19 and 73). For an association of most silver vases from ancient Thrace with the style of the Eretria Painter, see Tiverios forthcoming. 46  Burn 1987: 54–59 on Thracian musicians in the corpus of the Meidias Painter and his Circle, e.g. Mousaios, Thamyris; 76–80 on Dionysian scenes. On oriental/pattern garments on vases by the Circle of the Meidias Painter, see BADN 220513, 381, 20172, 44230, 220497, 220515, 220529, 9029561. For cups by the Meidias Painter and his Circle, see BAPD, listing thirty-one examples, of which the majority was discovered in Etruria, Enserune, and Ampurias, and only a handful in the Northern Black Sea: 220671, 220672, 9017638, 9004127, 9004130, 9004238. 47  Burn 1987: 98–119. A search on BAPD using the search–key ‘Meidias Painter,’ produced 367 vases; of these and the vases that can be added to the corpus after the publications of Şahin 2017 and 2016, a mere 10% originates from a Northern Aegean or Black Sea site, mostly from the Crimea and Ainos. 48  Şahin 2017 and 2016. 49  Isaac 1985: 146–157. 50  See above n. 43.

Taking all this into account, one wonders whether the Bojkov cup reflects the sensational case of Kotyto’s mysteries and is even a direct reference to Eupolis’ Baptai. The cup was created around the time of Alcibiades’ return from the fiasco of the Sicilian Expedition and his later activity in the Northern Aegean. Alcibiades established strongholds around the Hellespont, offered his protection to Greek colonies, and cultivated personal relationships with Thracian rulers.42 For the latter, his association with the cult of Kotyto could have functioned as common grounds with the locals, while his notorious affinity for luxury and extravagance would have found good parallels with the lavishness of the Odrysian nobility. I now come full-circle to an earlier point regarding the manufacturing of the vase. If it was indeed produced in Athens,43 then the interpretation of the scene as a reflection of the sensation produced by a contemporary comedy involving the infamous Alcibiades is plausible. It is interesting to note that several of these late fifth- and some fourth-century BCE silver vases with narrative scenes appear to be decorated with the same themes that permeate the tragedies of Aeschylus (e.g. Bassarae) and Euripides (Helen, Melanippe the Wise, Auge).44 On Alcibiades and Attic comedy, see Plutarch Alcibiades 10.4; Libanius fr. 50.2.21 and the key–publication on the topic by Vickers 2015; cf. also Vickers 2008 on Alcibiades and Sophocles. On Alcibiades, see Rhodes 2011. 40  Sears 2015: 314–317. 41  The cult of Bendis was officially introduced in Athens in 429 BCE, IG 3 I 383.143, for a discussion of her cult, see Janouchova 2013; Blommart 2004. 42  Thucydides 6.88; Plutach Alcibiades, esp. 23–31; Diodorus Siculus 13.74; Munn 2000: 179; Mitchell 1997: 70–71; Isaac 1986: 181–182. 43  Sideris 2015: 61, no. 19, refers to it as an example of ‘some of the most inspired and finely accomplished works of the high Classical Greek art.’ 44  E.g., possibly associated with Bassarai: Orpheus kantharos (Sideris 39 

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Abbreviations

and the craftsmen’s aptitude for working with diverse materials, not to mention the possibility of joint productions. I merely cite here the well-known cases of Euphranor and Polygnotos as both sculptors and painters, the clay images and paintings of Zeuxis,51 the specialization within families of craftsmen and thus their familiarity with different arts (e.g. the vase-painter Euthymides’ father was Pollias, the sculptor), and the production of a silver cup decorated with the sack of Troy by Parrhasios and Mys.52 One should also note the application of similar techniques in diverse materials, such as the interchangeable technique of carving and painting in Archaic Athenian architecture,53 the experimentation of Middle Corinthian pottery, the Athenian Six technique, and the numerous ceramic vases thought to imitate shapes and/ or decoration of metal prototypes. As for the mobility of craftsmen, there are numerous examples: (a) Aristonothos in Cerveteri/Caere and the broader issue of Greek artisans in Etruria,54 (b) Xenophantos the Athenian who worked at Pantikapaion/Kerch around 400 BCE,55 and (c) and the various artists gathered at the court of Archelaos I of Macedon at the end of the fifth century BCE,56 to list only a few.

BAPD = Beazley Archive Pottery Database BADN = Beazley Archive Database Number Pistiros I-VI = Bouzek, J., M. Domaradzki and Z. H. Archibald (ed.) 1996. Pistiros I: Excavations and Studies. Prague: Charles University. Bouzek, J, L Domaradzka and Z. H. Archibald (ed.) 2002. Pistiros II: Excavations and Studies. Prague: Charles University. Bouzek, J, L Domaradzka and Z. H. Archibald (ed.) 2007. Pistiros III: Excavations and Studies. Prague: Charles University. Bouzek, J, L Domaradzka and Z. H. Archibald (ed.) 2010. Pistiros IV: Excavations and Studies. Prague: Charles University Bouzek, J, L Domaradzka, A. Gotzev and Z. H. Archibald (ed.) 2013. Pistiros V: Excavations and Studies. Prague: Charles University. Bouzek, J, J. Militky, V. Taneva and E. Domaradzka (ed.) 2017. Pistiros VI: The Pistiros Hoard. Prague: Charles University.

Based on these observations, I wonder whether an artisan from the workshop of the Meidias Painter eventually branched off to manufacture artifacts from different materials and designed the scene of the Bojkov cup. The Attic style of the kylix is unquestionable and it seems logical to have been produced in Athens. If not, then a Greek colony like Ainos would seem to be a good alternative.

Bibliography Acton, P. 2014. Poiesis: Manufacturing in Classical Athens. Oxford: Oxford University Press Archibald, Z. H. 1998. The Odrysian Kingdom of Thrace: Orpheus Unmasked. Oxford Monographs on Classical Archaeology. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Archibald, Z. H. 2013. Ancient Economies of the Northern Aegean, Fifth to First Centuries BC. Oxford: Oxford University press. Archibald, Z. H. 2016. Moving Upcountry: Ancient Travel from Coastal Ports to Inland Harbours. In K. Höghammar, B. Alroth and A. Lindhagen (ed.) The Geography of Connections. Proceedings of an International Conference at the Department of Archaeology and Ancient History, Uppsala University, 23-25 September 2010, Boreas 34: 37-64. Uppsala: Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis. Avramidou, Α. and D. Tsiafaki 2015. Attic Pottery: Its Contribution to the Relationship between Athens and Thrace [In Greek with extended English summaries], sponsored by the European Social Fund (ESF) and National Resources through the ‘Education and Lifelong Learning’ Program (available at www.repository.kallipos.gr). Avramidou, A. and D. Tsiafaki (forthcoming a). Preliminary Results of the Research Project Attic Vases in Thrace: Shapes, Iconography and Findspots. In the Proceedings of Ancient Thrace: Myth and Reality. 13th International Congress of Thracology, 3-7 September 2017, Kazanlak. Avramidou, A. and D. Tsiafaki (forthcoming b). Attic Kraters and Pelikai from Ancient Thrace. In the Proceedings of the 19th AIAC, Cologne/Bonn, 22-26 May 2018. Blommart, A. 2004. Une déesse nommée Bendis. Réalité thrace ou creation athénienne? In Proceedings of the 11th International Conference on Classical Studies, Kavala, August 24-30, 1999, vol. 3: 31-47. Athens: Parnasos. Boshnakov, K. 2003. Die Thraker südlich vom Balkan in den Geographika Strabos (Palingenesia 81). Stuttgart: Franz Steiner. Boteva-Boyanova, D. 2000.  Problemi na trakiiskata istoriya i kultura. Sofia: Gutenberg. Bothmer, von D. 1957. Amazons in Greek Art. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

The Bojkov cup illustrates a symposion á la Thrace, catering for an Athenian audience who was trained to discern such subtleties. At the same time, it invokes the ever-growing diffusion of Thracian elements in the Athenian artistic production and cult practices. Conversely, to Thracian eyes, this cup would primarily be valued for its material and artistry and less so for its theme of decoration. The Thracian nobility would certainly appreciate an artifact ‘made in Athens’ – a gift, a bribe, a product of taxation, looting or a purchase – but they would probably approach the tondo scene with the curiosity provoked by an image of Athenian lifestyle rather than an illustration of something familiar to them.

Pliny HN 35.36. Athenaios Deipnosophistai 11.19=11.782b. 53  Ridgway 1987: 81–88, esp. 85–86. 54  Izzet 2004; Torelli 1976. See also, the claim by Mattusch (1988: 60– 63) that bronze casting was probably undertaken by itinerant metalsmiths in the sixth century BCE. 55  Lezzi-Hafter 2016 and 2008. 56  Carney 2015: 193. 51  52 

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Forgeries in a Museum: A New Approach to Ancient Greek Pottery Claudina Romero Mayorga1 Introduction: Object-Based Learning Pedagogy1

As Shuh6 has pointed out, the value of object-based learning methods can be summarised in three premises: first, objects are not age specific. As an educator you can use an object with children of any age, only the methods of questioning and conclusions drawn will vary. This applies too with children of differing abilities – a benefit in today’s schools, where literacy and numeracy skills are particularly favoured.7 Children do not need those skills to make a valuable contribution to the session using objects. Objects can be used to draw a class together and encourage conversations. Secondly, objects can be used to look at the lives of ordinary people. The display of the collection of Ure Museum allows learners to analyse objects relating to people, events and traditions rooted in Antiquity. Finally, objects give them the chance to develop their capacity for careful, critical observation of their world: introducing pupils to real objects, real evidence of the world around them and of the past, encourages them to think beyond their everyday experience.

The Ure Museum of Greek Archaeology at the University of Reading is an integral part of the Department of Classics and the fourth largest collection of Greek ceramics in Britain, although it also displays artefacts from other Mediterranean civilizations (Etruscan, Roman, Egyptian, etc.). The museum was established in 1922 by Professor Percy N. Ure, the University’s first professor of Classics, and his wife, Dr. Annie D. Ure, who acted as a curator until her death in 1976. Their aim was to build up a collection representative of almost all the main fabrics, types and periods of Greek pottery in order to offer a complete insight into the lives of the ancient Greeks. Nowadays, the museum runs a successful educational programme which offers school activities to Key Stage 2 pupils (aged between 7 and 11) in the Ancient Greeks. The Ure Museum has a capacity of 30 children per session, usually accompanied by adults and teachers. These rather small groups allow us, as educators, to offer a personal approach to the subject and to make the collection more accessible to learners. National museums can often seem overwhelming and intimidating to those not familiar with these institutions: here children have the priority to look at the cases without competing with tourists.

After being told that they would handle ancient artefacts and placed in front of them, there is always an authentic and audible ‘wow’ from children. This is what we call the ‘wow factor’,8 which expresses the culmination of the students’ introductory studies to Greek visual culture. The fact that the objects are out of the cases and in direct contact with them is what surprises them: they feel they are being treated like trustworthy adults. Their observation and analysis skills are tested through the exploration of how objects can speak: theory is put into practice.9 An object can be looked at and discussed on many different levels. The questions we ask of that object can be used to steer pupils towards a range of conclusions or learning outcomes.10

At the Ure Museum, learners analyse Ancient Greek pottery and its different shapes, functions and artistic techniques. The session is fully interactive with a ‘sharing knowledge’ introduction, (question and answer style) followed by an object-handling activity in small groups. The activity teaches children how to interpret artefacts and encourages them to think about how they were made, who made them and why. In order to get a better understanding of ancient Greek material culture, our programme is closely linked to pedagogies of active and experiential learning, which sees hands-on engagement with the object of study as a key to personal meaning-making and long-term retention of ideas. Objectbased learning has proven to facilitate the understanding of a subject, the development of academic and transferable skills such as team work and communication, lateral thinking, practical observation and drawing skills. This pedagogy has proven to have a long-lasting effect and relationship with memory, probably due to its multi-sensory approach,2 and it can also trigger innovative dissertation topics3 when applied to Archaeology.4  Artefacts, although concrete, represent a vast continuum of abstract ideas and inter-related realities that are to be discovered by children.5

The handling collection at the Ure Museum consists of a late Archaic lekythos (accession nº 45.6.15), miniature pots (accession nº 45.6.43, REDMG:1964.1607.1 and 40.6.40), a black glazed oenochoe (accession nº 50.4.20) and two fakes: a rhyton (2017.05.1), a clay cast of a metallic one, probably forged in the 19th century in Italy, and an aryballic lekythos (REDMG:1953.25.34). The rhyton was published by Hoffmann in 1966: ‘A terracotta replica, cast, most probably, from the silver rhyton (also a fake), exists in an English private collection’.11 As for the fake lekythos, we are still researching its provenance, although it seems to be a product of the Victorian period.

Education Officer, The Ure Museum of Greek Archaeology, University of Reading 2  Romanek and Lynch 2008: 284. Biggs 2003: 80. 3  Chatterjee 2010: 179-81. Chatterjee 2008: 215-223. Chatterjee and Hannan 2015: 1-8. Durbin et alli 1991: 7. 4  Beazley 1989: 98-102. 5  Paris 2002: 10. 1 

Shuh 1982: 8-15. Kennedy 2016: 2. Hardie 2015: 4. 9  Hardie 2008: 140. 10  Clarke 2002: 11. 11  Hoffmann 1966: 133-134. 6  7  8 

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Figure 1. Handling collection at the Ure Museum of Greek Archaeology, University of Reading. Photography taken by the author. Fakes in the museum: experiential learning

in shiny orange paint shows a standing male figure in front of a kneeling female, which seems to be fading off. Even though they concentrate on the scene and try to identify a specific myth, they usually remember the red figure technique explained before and realise that the vase is in fact, a fake.

When handling the rhyton, the reactions are more than audible, the beauty of the piece and the detailed depiction of the animal provoke the first questions about the material, the colour, the decoration and the function. They do know that the pot is made out of terracotta clay, but the shimmering patina resembles metal. They also point out that the rhyton is extremely light and quite unstable when placed on the table. Children not only observe the vase, but they also hold it, weigh it and feel the texture of the surface. When they answer to ‘what colour is it?’ a child is making a straightforward visual observation. In answer to ‘how much does it weigh?’ they could be making a scientific measurement. In answer to ‘what does it feel like?’ they’re making a sensory, tactile judgment. A child answering the question ‘do you think it’s beautiful?’ would be making a personal, subjective judgement.12 While investigating the object, they apprehend the role of the rhyton in the context of a special celebration, they make their first approach to the semiotic and interactions of the symposium in Antiquity.

However, when learners realise they are fakes, something changes in the room: handling ancient objects not only felt exciting, but it also destroyed the barrier, physical and cultural, that antiquities must be inside a case, to be displayed at a museum as if they were inaccessible, even sacred objects. Now they feel betrayed: that barrier was never destroyed. Nonetheless, the discussion centres on one question: why. Fakes are particularly ‘good to think with’: they have the potential of provoking existential questions about something being true or false, right or wrong, legal or unlawful.13 Children believe that old antiquarians would take advantage of customers by selling fakes and copies instead of the ‘real’ artefacts. Thus, pupils regard Greek pottery as expensive and valuable objects. They also understand that collecting antiquities would imply a high purchasing power; buying knowingly a fake or a forgery could be considered as a desire to emulate the elites. Learners do associate an archaeological artefact, a Greek pot, with the notion of knowledge, culture and power.

The Victorian lekythos, on the other hand, is immediately compared to the small one also included in the handling collection. In this case, the tactile qualities seem to be the first to be verbalised: the pot is big and heavy unlike the rest of the vases they had the opportunity to lift. The decoration 12 

Kennedy 2016: 2.

13 

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Fakes from the 19th century are not old enough to be part of an archaeological collection, so learners try to make sense of their presence in the museum. When asked about the function of a fake in the Ure Museum, the first answer is, in fact, that fakes are useful to spot the difference between a genuine pot and a forgery. They immediately understand the role of a fake as an educational resource, an effective tool to actually analyse the materials and techniques used in Ancient Greece. Material culture provides a tangible link between the past and the present,14 and fakes can help us understand how Antiquity has inspired several generations until today. Although these fakes are not ancient, learners begin to apprehend the concept of a historical fake, why Greek pottery was studied by Victorians and their need to reproduce these artefacts for their own contemplation, for aestheticreasons.

curiosity in the typology or iconography (as happened with the rhyton), while others show the beauty of ancient artefacts (as with the Victorian lekythos). Fakes encourage students to take a detective-like approach in their study of the objects. They open up and widen their understanding and engagement with a variety of subjects and contexts. They push children to be creative, to think differently and to stay curious. Bibliography Beazley, J.D. 1989. The training of archaeologists. University Training. In Kurtz, D. C. (ed.) Greek Vases: Lectures by J.D. Beazley: 98-102. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Biggs, J. 2003. Teaching for Quality Learning at University. Buckingham: The Society for research into Higher Education and Open University Press. Chatterjee, H. 2010. Object-based learning in higher education: the pedagogical power of museums. In University and Museums and Collections Journal 3: 179-81. Chatterjee, H. 2008. Touch in museums: policy and practice in object handling. Oxford: Berg. Chatterjee, H. and Hannan, L. 2015. Engaging the senses: objectbased learning in higher education. Abingdon: Routledge. Clarke, A., Dodd, J., Hooper-Greenhill, E., O’Riain, H. Selfridge, L. and Swift, F. 2002. Learning based on museum collections. In Learning Objects Learning through Culture, The DfES Museums and Galleries Education Programme: a guide to good practice: 9-11. Craciun, M. 2012. Rethinking fakes, authenticating selves. In Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute 18. 4: 846-863. Doonan, R. and Boyd, M. 2008. Digital Modelling of Object and Process in Artefact Teaching. In Chatterjee, H. (ed.) Touch in Museums. Policy and Practice in Object Handling: 107-120. Oxford: Berg. Durbin, G., Morris, S. and Wilkinson, S. 1991. A teacher’s guide to Learning from Objects. London: English Heritage. Hardie, K. 2015. Innovative pedagogies series. Wow: The power of objects in object-based learning and teaching. In Higher Education Academy: 1-24. Hardie, K. 2008. The power of wow: the exclamation that makes and breaks silence. In Silences in Teaching and Learning: 139-142. Hoffmann, H. 1966. Tarentine rhyta, Mainz: P. von Zabern. Kennedy, A. 2016. The power of objects. In 24 Hour Museums: 1-3. TeachandLearn.net. Meyer, J.H.F. and Land, R. 2005. Threshold Concepts and Troublesome knowledge 2: Epistemological Considerations and a Conceptual Framework for Teaching and Learning. In Higher Education 49: 373-388. Paris, S. G. 2002. Perspectives on Object-Centered Learning in Museums. Mahwah: Lawrence Eribaum Associates, Inc. Romanek, D. and Lynch, B. 2008. Touch and the Value of Object Handling: Final Conclusions for a New Sensory Museology. Oxford and New York: Berg. Sánchez Fernández, C. 2011. Original, copia y falso en la cerámica griega. In Berceo 161: 89-105. Shuh, J. H. 1982. Teaching yourself to teach with objects. In Journal of Education 7. 4: 8-15. Sparks, R. T. 2010. Object Handling in the Archaeology Classroom. Strategies for Success. In University Museums and Collections Journal 3: 191-196.

When asked if they consider the fakes to be valuable items, they try to appraise the artefact. In answer to ‘how much do you think it is worth?’ an older or more able child might be able to apply prior knowledge of the object’s history, social and political implications and aesthetic value to make an educated ‘guesstimate’.15 The provocative forms and questionable function of objects that turned out to be fakes served well in students’ contemplation of notions of taste and the consideration of their own preferences. When fakes are studied in the context of the museum, children are likely to study them more closely, as if in a competition to single them out. The intrusion of a fake in an archaeological collection sets a powerful opportunity for discussion. It seems to be easier to apprehend complex and challenging areas of knowledge when several senses are involved in handling the fake.16 Conclusions Object-based learning creates an opportunity for children to engage physically with Greek pottery and provides important and memorable opportunities for them to study key designs and decorative techniques. At the Ure Museum, children experience an emotional response to a multisensory environment, which inspires them to learn more and ask questions about the collection and the university. The introduction of fakes in the session surprises students in their learning; it surpasses children’s expectations of handling objects by creating innovative activities and using unusual artefacts. Fakes are fun and provocative objects that can engender their curiosity and deepen their interest in their studies. Objects can be used to explain and illustrate complex theories in an enjoyable and memorable way and fakes offer a valuable opportunity to provide a focal point for acquiring subject-specific knowledge. Fakes, forgeries, imitations, copies, embellishments: all these concepts are separated by a blurred line that varies in time and space.17 Students learn that Greek vases have boosted a curious fashion in Western Europe since the 16th century that affected diverse arts and crafts and our own reinterpretation of the past. Children learn to appreciate historical fakes and their value as works of art: some of them show scientific Sparks 2010: 191-196. Doonan and Boyd 2008: 108. Kennedy 2016: 2. 16  Chatterjee and Hannan 2015: 4. Meyer and Land 2005: 373-388. 17  Sánchez Fernández 2011: 89-90. 14  15 

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Beyond Trade: The Presence of Archaic and Classical Greek Bronze Vessels in the Northern Black Sea Area Chiara Tarditi

Figure 1. Macedonian bronze vessels from the Black Sea area (Treister 2010a) The Conference ‘There and back again: Greek art in motion’ was a wonderful opportunity to express our deep gratitude to prof. Boardman, as with his researches and publications he always offered a clear, precise and indispensable point of reference for all who study the different aspects of classical art. As my mainstream study is about Greek bronze vessels of archaic and classical time, on this occasion I wish to analyze a group of already published pieces found in the northern Black Sea area, to propose a more precise attribution to Greek productions.1

been recognized as imports from Macedonia (Figure 1).3 But the situation is different for archaic and classical examples, less and not so carefully studied, for which a more detailed analysis is required. Starting from the archaic period, particularly interesting are some finds from the Seven Brothers tumulus. From tomb no. 2 comes a fragmentary basin of the podanipter type,4 resting on a tripod ring base5 (Figure 2). The handles are moulded in shape of recumbent lions, situated opposite a central flower (or a rosette), and the lateral extensions of the handle end with a snake’s head, originally projecting above the rim of the basin.

The region, corresponding to modern Ukraine, was occupied by Scythians: still nomads during the seventh and sixth century BC, from the fifth they became sedentary, having more intensive contacts with the Greek colonies on the Black Sea coast.2 To this second phase is datable most of the Scythians sites and the imported artefacts found in the area. Mostly artifacts in pottery and metal, largely deriving from barrows or royal tombs, they are all widely studied, exposed in important exhibitions with great public success.

Figured handles of this type are well known from several examples found in different sites, in Greece6 and in southern Italy, mostly in the Apulian area,7 and some specimens of Treister 2010a: 20-21; Treister 2002. Bilimovith 1970: 128-132; Tarditi 2016: 260. 5  Tarditi 2016: Decorative variant: two opposite lions: Bh.3.II.C. b 6  Two pieces from the Athenian Acropolis, inv.no. 6719 and 7133; one from Olympia (Olympia, Archaeological Museum, Br 5176: Gauer 1991: 240, P 27; Gauer 1981). 7  Ruvo: London, British Museum, inv.no. 1856.1226.947; Rutigliano, tomb no.9: Taranto, Archaeological Museum, inv.no. 138157 (Tarditi 1996: 31-32); Ugento, tomb no.2: Taranto Archaeological Museum, inv.no. 134945-9 (Tarditi 1996: 33); Cavallino, tomb no.1: Taranto Archaeological Museum, inv.no. 138811 (Tarditi 1996: 30-31); Ruvo: 3  4 

As regards bronze vessels, many pieces of the fourth and third century BC, like situlae or kraters with plain handles, have long

1  2 

Università Cattolica, Brescia (Italy). Tsetskhladze 2011: 120-121.

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Figure 2. Podanipter basin from Semibratnyie and parallels unknown origin are preserved in museums or came from archaeological auctions.8 Judging from the style, the handles from Semibratniye are part of a rather homogeneous group, including the podanipter from the Princely Tomb of Sala Consilina, the one in the Metropolitan Museum and some handles.9 Those on a basin from Ruvo di Puglia kept at Neaples, two from the Athenian Acropolis, a fragmentary one in the British Museum and two from a Christie’s auction, these last three pieces of unknown origin (Figure 2). All of these examples are formally and stylistically very similar, referable to the same production center, if not to the same workshop; they look later of those from Ruvo di Puglia in the British Museum and from the Delcampe auction but close to them for the general shape and the mane, on the forehead made as a band, with short engraved vertical segments, and on the back with flame-shaped strands; but the back of the lion’s body is better molded, with tail and natural paws, so a chronology at the end of the sixth century BC can be suggested.10 As already noted,11 these lions are very close to those used as handles on a group of paterae: common characteristics are the style of the animal and the decorative details, such the rendering of the mane (with a sort of band), muzzle, body (with wellmolded hind legs).12 Of the thirteen known paterae handles, six are of unknown provenance but five come from the Athenian

Acropolis, so it has long been suggested to attribute all of these pieces to the Athenian production:13 Consequently, it is also possible to trace back to Athens the similar lion-shaped podanipter handles, noting how zoomorphic handles are common among Athenian vessel fragments.14 The Semibratniye basin is related to a tripod ring base (Figure 3): judging from the published picture, the ring has a straight profile, decorated with vertical, slightly raised dentils; the three feet, crowned by a kind of Ionic capital, are molded in shape of lion’s paw resting on a small, round base. The closest parallels for the feet seem to be those of the tripod base from the Princely Tomb of Sala Consilina and of one from Cavallino, even if on both the ring is decorated just in the upper part with a row of engraved tongues. A good parallel for the decoration of the ring, made by a row of slightly molded dentils, is offered by a fragment from the Athenian Acropolis.15 As the handles of the basin from Sala Consilina and the closest parallels for the base are all probably of Athenian production,16 we can attribute also the base from Semibratnyie to the same artistic handicraft. A very meaningful piece is a krater from Martonosha,17 in th Dnieper region, of which only one handle and part of the rim have survived (Figure 4). The handle is very close to one at the Louvre allegedly said to be from Cilicia.18 Both are of a volute

Naples, Archaeological Museum, inv.no. 72196 (Montanaro 2007: 463, no. 103.19, fig. 356); Sala Consilina: Paris, Musèe du Petit Palais, inv. no. Dut 1562. 8  London, British Museum, inv.no. 1951,1022.2; Paris, Louvre, inv.no 2629 and 2636 (De Ridder 1915); New York, Metropolitan Museum, inv.no. 1998.26; Christie’s New York 7-12-2011, lot no. 99; Delcampe auction no. 118984506 closed on 27-1-2014; Paris, Louvre, 2629 and 2636 (De Ridder 1915). 9  See Tarditi 2016: 259-260. 10  Tarditi 2016: 260. 11  Tarditi 1996:132-135; Tarditi 2014; Tarditi 2016: 260. 12  Tarditi 2016: paterae PA.2. IV.

Jantzen 1958: 15; Gauer 1981: 146; 150-51; Tarditi 1996: 179-180; Tarditi 2016: 290-292. 14  Tarditi 2016. 15  Athens, National Archaeological Museum, inv.no. 21090. 16  Tarditi 2016: 230. 17  St. Petersburg, Hermitage, inv.no. Dn 1870 1/1. 18  published by Rolley 2003: 100, said to originate from the De Clercq Collection, Louvre, inv.no Br 4467 but not found on the Louvre online 13 

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Figure 3. Tripod base from Semibratnyie and parallels

Figure 4. Krater handle from Martonoscha and parallels type decorated with a complete Gorgon, resting on a flat base from which starts a couple of snakes, on the Louvre handle ending with a Gryphon’s head. The Martonosha handle is plain, with only the upper edge decorated with globular

beads, while on the Louvre one there are also two lines of tongues and engraved palmettes in the middle. The Gorgons have four wings, round faces with small open mouths, each having a protruding tongue and no tusks; their hair is partially concealed by a sort of hood; the right knee is touching the soil, while the left one is just bent, in the convential archaic manner indicative of running. The arms are bent at the waist, with the

catalogue.

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hands close each other, in a way that is similar (but not the same) to that of Gorgon knotting a belt made of snakes.19

and amber) found in far contexts are related to the interest for the territories and for the row material passing along the trade routes through these regions; it is a commonly accepted opinion that precious bronze vessels, of exceptional shape and isolated in respect of the main quantity of Greek imported objects, must be intended as diplomatic gifts to promote the establishment of fruitful commercial exchanges.23 And this is certainly true also for the region around the Black Sea: if regular imports of pottery are later than the foundation of the Greek colonies on the Black Sea coasts, they were probably preceded by a long phase of contacts, aimed to promote both the settlement of the colonies and the establishment of regular commercial traffic.

The running Gorgon, with four wings, is quite common in the archaic period, (as on golden plaques, figured pottery or some bronze statuettes, probably decorating the rim of some big vessel); and on archaic krater handles, as well known, the Gorgon is a common decorative figure too, but normally she has snakes instead of legs and no wings. Conversely, as we saw, in both the handles from Martonosha and at Louvre, the Gorgons have wings: four on the front and two others visible from the side, supporting the volutes. Side wings are also on the handles of one of the kraters from Trebenischte (Figure 4), but there they are the true Gorgon’s wings, while on the handles from Martonosha and at the Louvre the Gorgons already have their own wings frontally open. So, it seems that a model like that used at Trebenischte was copied but not really understood, as shown by the vestigial wings below the volute as well as by the hands close but without a belt.

Furthermore for some pieces of the Early Classical Period it is now possible to propose an attribution to the Athenian production. If for several vessels of very characteristic shape (as one patera with anthropomorphic handles of the Acropolis type and one silver kylix from Vani) or with figured decoration in pure Attic style (as e.g. a silver kylix from Semibratnye, with an engraved scene from Greek tragedy)24 there is a commonly accepted attribution to Athenian production (Figure 5), for other vessels with more generic decorative patterns new observations are possible to justify this attribution.

The humanized Gorgon’s face is datable to the end of the sixth century or the beginning of the fifth century, suggesting that both kraters were made when the archaic volutes handles with Gorgon started to be out of date in Greece and a new type appears, decorated by volutes and vegetal tendrils.20 For all these reasons, it seems reasonable that the handles from Martonosha and at the Louvre were made probably in a peripheral, colonial area, maybe Ionic or of the Black Sea region, far enough from the main Greek production centers but with a good working capacity, freely mixing, without understanding them fully, shapes and decorative motif created in Greece during the sixth century.21

From Solocha25 and Semibratniye26 come two basins with handles of very peculiar shape, composed of a rectangular plaque, horizontal and smooth, resting on an arched rodwith a circular section, with attachments in the shape of a regular, plain disc (Figure 6). Handles of this type, for which I propose the definition ‘fixed handles in the shape of a rectangular plaque’,27 are very widespread, well-attested among the finds from the Athenian Acropolis (more than 20 pieces) and more rarely from other contexts, Greek (three from Olympia,28 one from Delphi)29 and southern Italian (Rutigliano;30 Monte PrunoRoscigno,31 Roccagloriosa32 or more generically Puglia),33 with a couple of handles of unknown origin in Berlin.34 All the specimens are very similar, differing only in dimensions, thickness and width of the plaque: all are smooth, without any engraved or plastically-molded decoration, which is instead frequent on specimens dating from the late fifth and fourth centuries.35 Moreover, on the handles from Solocha and Semibratnyie the arched shape of the rod is highlighted on the outer side by a thin engraved line, as on some handles from the

The finds from Martonosha and Semibratnyie are very important for several reasons. Firstly, they are among the oldest finds of Greek bronze vessels in the area; and it is notable that one is a krater, a very precious and rare shape. It has already been noted that the Scythian elite appreciated banquet Greek vessels, well attested among rich local burial finds.22 The presence of kraters and of basins of ‘podanipter type’, just as other items related to the banquet, in very different and far distant indigenous contexts is certainly related to the spread of this social practice among local elite who came in touch with Greek aristocracy, adopting and/ or emulating customs which allowed them to express their inclusion in the hegemonic class, representing itself as equal to that aristocratic Greek world, which they knew through early commercial exchanges.

Tarditi 2007; Sheffton 2001. Skytische Kunst 1986, no. 117 (St. Petersburg, Hermitage, inv.no. Cbp VI 11). 25  Boltrik, Fialko, Treister 2011, fig. 7. 26  Semibratniye tomb no. 4 (Bilimovitch 1970: 132, 133 fig. 4). 27  Tarditi 2016: Bh.5: they can be of two types: fully casted or with a rectangular hollow for a lead filling, sometimes preserved. 28  Olympia, Archaeological Museum, inv.no. B 5936; Br 13628/B7221; Br 12914 (Gauer 1991: 239, P20-22). 29  Personal communication of Dr. V. Meirano. 30  Tarditi 1996 : 37-38, nos. 48 and 51. We distinguished these pieces from other found in several southern Italian contexts similar but with more irregular attachments, for which is suggested a local, Apulian production (Tarditi 1996: 136-37). 31  Holloway, Nabers 1982: 131, fig. 33-34. 32  Gualtieri 1990: 165, no. 3, tab. LXIV, nos. 4-5. 33  Bassano del Grappa (Vicenza, Italy), Chini Collection (largely made of materials from Apulia), inv. no. 539 (Tarditi 1995: 191-92). 34  Berlin, Antikensammlung, inv.no. Fr 1397. 35  e.g., Berlin, Antikensammlung, inv.no. Fr.594. 23  24 

Offering precious gifts to local chiefs is a common practice well attested in all the regions where Greeks came in contact with structured indigenous communities, as central Europe (Vix, Laveau, Hochdorf, Grafenbuhl) or Italy (Sirolo, Castelbellino, Amendola, Ruvo di Puglia): important pieces of Greek handicraft (as hydriai, kraters, lebetes, tripods or klinai inlaid with ivory In terms of examples one acroterion from the Athenian Acropolis (Athens, Acropolis Museum, inv.no. Acr. 701); or on the feet of the cista from the Princely tomb of Sala Consilina (Paris, Musèe du Petit Palais, inv.no. O. Dut. 1563). 20  Tarditi 2016: 303-304 21  See Piotrovsky 1973-74: 19; on metalwork craftsmanship in Black Sea area: Treister 2010b. 22  Petropoulos 2015: 96; D’Agostino 2006; Tarditi 2007. 19 

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Figure 5. Attic silver vessels from Vani and Semibratnyie

Figure 6. Basins from Semibratnyie and Solocha Athenian acropolis36 and on the one in the Chini Collection at Bassano del Grappa.37 The high degree of homogeneity among the assemblage suggests that the majority of the pieces likely came from the same production site: as the main quantity was found on the Athenian Acropolis, compared with singular finds from other areas, it seems probably to attribute all of them to

the Athenian production, occasionally exported abroad. The few known chronological references38 suggest a production period in the fifth century. One of the handles at Olympia came from a Classical or Hellenistic context (Gauer 1991: 239, P20); the tomb of Rutigliano is approximately dated to the fifth century (Tarditi 1996: 37-38) and that of Semibratniye is more approximately dated from the first half of the fifth century to the first half of the fourth century (Butyagin, Treister 2006). 38 

Athens, National Archaeological Museum, inv.no. inv.no.7137; 21215; 21329/ι. 37  See note 32. 36 

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Figure 7. Olpe from Myrmekion and parallels From Myrmekion, in Crimea, comes a bi-conical oenochoe (Figure 7),39 with oval body and a clear edge between shoulder and belly, which justifies its attribution to the oinochoai shape.40 The surface is completely smooth; the surmounting handle is simply joined to the rim by three rivets, while the lower attachment is decorated with a very oxidized lion head with side forepaws. This oenochoe is of a well-known type,41 very homogeneous in shape, technique (all lost wax casted) and handle, attested in Greece42 and in southern Italy.43 The body, relatively slim and elongated, suggests a chronology in the first half of the fifth century.44 Judging from the distribution area and from the existence of very close imitations in Attic pottery, a Greek origin is highly probable.45 Very similar is a oenochoe in the Fleischman Collection, with the same lower attachment of the handle. The scratched inscription on the body is attributed to the area of Eretria, while the piece is possibly of Attic production.46

The most interesting group of Greek bronze vessels from the Black Sea area was found at Peschanoe, on the Dnieper valley: three amphorae, five hydriai, three basins, one tripod base, one amphora-situla, two situlae, one stamnos, one krater, all probably part of a small boat cargo and typically quoted as imported Greek vessels of different chronology.47 The krater, the ovoid situla and the one with spout decorated with a lion’s head have been recognized as probably Macedonian products, datable to the fourth century BC;48 for other pieces a more precise stylistic analysis is necessary. One amphora has the handles’ attachment decorated by a lion’s head (Figure 8): very narrow at the bottom. It has a smooth rim and the two handles are decorated with a central smooth rib running along the length, ending on the top with a sort of stylized snake’s head. The upper attachment is in the shape of two wide volutes just below the rim, and the lower one is decorated with a raised lion’s head. The amphora of Peschanoe is very close to one in the Metropolitan Museum at New York:49 they have same shape, very narrow on the bottom, rim and handles, with the upper attachment in shape of double, big and flat volute and the lower ones decorated with a lion’s protome with the same plastic mane tufts, in the shape of a comma on the forehead, and molded muzzle. The two pieces look like they were made in the same workshop.

Butyagin, Treister 2006. Instead of that of ‘olpai’ as in Butyagin, Treister 2006: 137. 41  Weber 1983, type III.B, corresponding to the pottery type 5a of Beazley. 42  From Argolis (Paris, Louvre, inv.no. 2731) and from Sindos, in Macedonia (Thessaloniki, Archaeological Museum, inv.no. 8549) 43  From Rutigliano, Vaste, Montescaglioso (Tarditi 1996: 81-83; 163164. 44  Tarditi 1996: 163. 45  Erroneously Treister (Butyagin, Treister 2006) refers to my proposal to attribute the examples from South Italy to a local production, which I proposed only for few pieces from Rudiae, Vaste and Valesio, very differently made, with simply hammered bronze sheet (Tarditi 1996: 164). 46  True, see Hamma 1994: 61-63. 39  40 

Lion’s heads of the same type are found on some hydriai with surmounting vertical handle. In the wide group of hydriai with Ganina 1970; Treister 2010a. Treister 2010a. 49  New York, Metropolitan Museum, inv.no. 2004.171 a,b (Picòn 2007, no.107 and on line catalogue). 47  48 

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Figure 8. Amphora from Peschanoe and parallel this type of handle, the upper attachment commonly ends with a lion’s head and the lower one with the figure of a Siren: but in a small group, the lower attachment too is in shape of lion’s head (Figure 9),50 very close to those on the handles of the amphorae from Peschanoe and at the Met (in the shape of their ears, manes, and skin folds on the muzzle). The same rendering of the lion’s head features on some mobile handle attachments51 and paterae grips,52 all of high quality, carefully molded and naturalistically rendered, with the same flame, muzzle, eyes, nose, etc. in low relief (Figure 9). The mane on the forehead and on the sides, of straight profile, is decorated with finely-engraved hatches, the ears are large and semicircular, the details of the muzzle are soft and naturalistically wrought, with the folds of the skin marked by engraved lines. In all the pieces, the muzzle is so close that we can attribute them, if not to the work of a single workshop, at least to the same artistic area or to an intentional reproduction from a single model. The number of pieces coming from the Athenian Acropolis suggests an Athenian production, that we

can propose also for the hydriai with surmounting vertical handle with lower attachment in the shape of a lion’s mask.53 The double, big and flat volute of the upper attachment is found on another piece from Peschanoe, an amphora-situla with the lower attachment in the shape of a palmette with double volutes (Figure 10). The palmette has eleven, round ending leaves, with the central one longer than the others; the flat, double volutes are connected by a horizontal band decorated with a line of engraved ‘X’. A very similar palmette is on one oenochoe from a Scythian borrow.54 This type of palmette seems to be typical of Athenian production, well attested from the second half of the sixth century on different Athenian artifacts, such as figured pottery, marble stelai or antefixes:55 the main feature is the relatively high number of round ending leaves, usually seven or nine, rarely more (eleven or thirteen)56 or less (five),57 with the central leaf more elongated. The amphora-situla from Peschanoe is very close to one in the Metropolitan Museum,58 with the same upper attachment of the handle, while the lower one is decorated with a humanized Gorgoneion of Athenian type:59 for this and for the type of the palmette, we can attribute also the amphora-situla from Peschanoe (and the oenochoe from the Scythian borrow) to Athenian production of the beginning of the fifth century.

Dodone: Athens, Archaeological Museum, Carapanos Collection; Paris, Louvre, inv.no. Br 4643; New York, Metropolitan Museum, inv. no. 1981.11.23; Toledo, Ohio, Toledo Museum of Art, inv.no. 1964.125 (on line catalogue). 51  Examples from the Athenian Acropolis (Athens, National Archaeological Museum, inv.no. 7099; 7103; 7104; 7112; Berlin, Antikensammlung, inv.no 7491): Tarditi 2014: 42-43; Tarditi 2016: 240242. 52  From Athenian Acropolis (Athens, National Archaeological Museum, inv.no. 7199); Boston, Museum of Fine Arts, inv.no. 69.956 (Comstock, Vermeule 1972: 493, no. 451A and the online Museum catalogue); Olympia, Archaeological Museum, inv.no. 14030; 12866; s, Baltimorerchaeological Museumoup, orrsity 96, p.107)they belong to paterae and not to strainer, which ttima-Calabria),3, BaBesee also one oinochoe handle in Berlin, Antikensammlung, inv.no. 12424 (for all Furtwängler 1890: 147, nos. 923, 924 and 924a); Sotheby’s auction New York 5-6-1999, lot 113, sold again by Christie’s, London, 26-102004, lot no. 7017. 50 

Tarditi 2016: 270. Ganina 1970, fig.38; Shtitelman 1977, fig. 57-58. Tarditi 2016: 216-217; 315; fig.3. 56  E.g., Athens, National Archaeological Museum inv.no. 23962; 7111; 21243; handle of the louterion at New York, Metropolitan Museum, inv. no. 59.11.23a; handle of the hydria at Mariemont, Musée Royal, inv. no. B 210. 57  E.g., Athens, Archaeological Museum, handle inv.no. 21470 α-β. 58  New York, Metropolitan Museum inv.no. 60.11.2. 59  Tarditi 2016: 261; 313-314. 53  54  55 

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Figure 9. Lion’s protome of Attic type

Figure 10. Amphora-situla from Peschanoe and palmette of Attic type The tripod base (Figure 11) has a low ring, solid cast feet in the shape of lion’s paws crowned by an Ionic capital: the lion’s paws are very naturalistic, with long claws and the capital, slightly raised, has side leaves (or half-palmette). Many feet in shape of lion’s paws, found alone60 or joined to a base,61 have

the same features: the biggest group came from the Athenian Acropolis (fourteen pieces), while only individual finds came from other Greek sites:62 the significant concentration among the Acropolis materials suggests again that we should attribute all of these pieces, stylistically similar to one another, to Athenian production.

the biggest group is that from the Athenian Acropolis, with fourteen pieces: Tarditi 2016: 38-39. 61  Boston, Museum Fine Arts, inv.no. 96.678; New York, Metropolitan 60 

Museum, inv.no. 38.11.5 a-b. 62  Olympia; Dodone; Delphi: see Tarditi 2016: 219.

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Figure 11. Basin with tripod base from Peschanoe and parallels One of the basins (Figure 11), of very simple profile, has an oval, mobile handle, inserted into a plain half-reel with an unusual attachment in the shape of a winged Siren with vegetal volutes, resting on a raised palmette.63

another: body smooth or decorated with engraved plumage; hairs smooth or with defined strands; wings with one or double row of feathers; different shapes of the volutes. Leaving open the question of the production area, we can suggest that probably the attachment on the basin is not original, as it is the only one of this shape with a Siren attachment. It might be a repair, re-using an attachment from a hydria or a kalpis. We can assume something similar also for a strainer from Nymphaion67 (Figure 12), which presents an unusual decoration of the handle in shape of winged Siren, stylistically very close to that on the basin from Peschanoe. The handle of the strainer is moreover decorated with an engraved palmette with double volutes of the Athenian type.68 On the sides of the Siren there are two double volutes with a small leaf add to the upper one, making the stylized image of a duck’s head, a shape resumed from archaic Laconian palmettes and common on the Athenian ones.69

As previously stated, the winged Siren is frequently used as lower attachments of the vertical handle on hydriai and kalpides from the end of the sixth century and for all the classical period:64 also among the vessels from Peschanoe there is one kalpis (hydria no. 1) with this decoration65 (Figure 12). It is the most decorated one among the kalpides from Peschanoe, with fluted handels, attachments with raised tongues, rim and foot decorated with small tongues in negative relief, all features suggesting a chronology already in the full fifth century BC. The many known examples of hydriai and kalpides of this type show a great degree of variability in the rendering of the Siren and of the volutes and, as already noted, it is difficult to recognize homogeneous groups and different productions so as to identify some chronological markers and arrange them sequentially.66 I concur on this point and recognize how necessary it is to conduct a more careful evaluation of the various specimens. We can note here only that the Sirens on the pieces of Peschanoe (basin and kalpis) are different from one

The other kalpides from Peschanoe70 are all plain, with smooth handles and attachment, with only the rim decorated with small raised tongues71 (Figure 26). The hydria no. 2 is unique for it has a small plaque set on the shoulder in shape of an eagle holding a snake in its beak, a rare decorative motive. In all the pieces the attachment are in perfectly rounded shapes, a variant well attested in many regions,72 without a recognizable main production center.

The handle is decorated with small globular beads set on a kind of slightly raised band, a decoration common enough on basin handles, as attested mainly by several pieces from Athens and Olympia, or of unknown provenance. This decorative pattern is recurrent on several vessels shapes, as the basins, amphorae-situlae and krater-situlae, hydriai horizontal handles, so common and easily reproducible that it is difficult to attribute all the pieces to one production, even if from the Athenian Acropolis came the most numerous examples and many of the pieces from other sites can be attributed for different reason to Athenian production (e.g. hydriai from Castelbellino, at Toledo, basin at the Metropolitan Museum; krater from Stavroupolis, etc.. 64  Sowder 2009: 159-202, groups 15 and 16, with more than 100 vases or fragments. 65  Hydria 1 (Ganina 1970). 66  Sowder 2009: 191. 63 

The presence among the vessels from Peschanoe of pieces of different chronology, from the late sixth-early fifth century to Nymphaion, tomb no.24: St. Petersburg, Hermitage, inv.no. GK H 94 (Skythische Kunst 1986, fig. 109). 68  For the palmette of Athenian type Tarditi 2016: 315-316. 69  Tarditi 2016: 315. 70  Ganina 1970, hydriai nos. 2-5. 71  Hydriai 1; 3-5. 72  Tarditi 2016: 275-276, type Kah.1.B and Kah.2.A. 67 

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Figure 12. Siren attachments from Peschanoe and Nymphaion the fourth-early third, suggested that it was a boat load of a trader who sold old bronze vessels to buyers who appreciated Greek products, even if they were not updated to the most recent style:73 for the older pieces we don’t have to think necessary of direct imports from Greece, they could simply passed from hand to hand, in regions more and more distant from the production area.

sites and Lemnos:76 it is likely that their distribution is linked to the use of the same maritime trade-route, rising from Attica to the northern Aegean and from there up to the Black Sea, ensuring the circulation of high-quality products from Athenian workshops in those countries politically dependent on Athens. Bibliography

Conclusions

Arti di Efesto. 2002. M. Rubinich, A. Giumlia-Mair (edd.), Le arti di Efesto. Milano: Silvana. Bilimovitch, Z.A. 1970/73. Deux cuvettes de bronze de provenence des tumulus dits Sémibratniye. In Sov.Arkheol.: 128-35 (in Russian). Boardman, J. 1994. The Diffusion of Classical Art in Antiquity. London: Thames & Hudson. Boltrik, Yu.V., Fialko, E.F., Treister, M. 2011. Imported Bronze vessels from the East Catacomb in the Berdyansk Barrow. In Ancient Civilisations from Scythia to Siberia 17: 255-278. Braund, D. 2007. Black Sea Grain for Athens? From Herodotous to Demosthenes. In V. Gabrielsen, J. Lund (edd.), The Black Sea in Antiquity, Black sea Studies 6: 39-68. Butyagin, A.M., Treister, M. 2006. A bronze olpe from the Myrmeikon hoard. In Ancient Civilisation 12, 1-2: 133-146. Comstock, M., Vermeule, C. 1972. Greek, Etruscan, & Roman Bronzes in the Museum of Fine Arts. Boston: Greenwich. D’Agostino, B. 2006. The First Greeks in Italy. In G.R. Tsetskhladze (ed.), Greek Colonisation: An Account of Greek Colonies and Other Settlements Overseas, vol. I: 201-237. Leiden-Boston: Brill. De Ridder, A. 1915. Bronzes antiques du Louvre, vol II: Instrumentum. Paris: Leroux.

The stylistic analysis made it possible to propose an Athenian production for several bronze vessels from different sites around the Black sea. The chronology of the pieces goes from the second half of the sixth century (basin from Semibratnyie with lions handles) to second half of the fifth (silver cup with tragedy scene from Semibratnyie), that is the period when Athens starts to increase its presence in the Black Sea area:74 the conquest of the Thracian Chersonese in the midsixth century contributed significantly to the development of Athenian trade in this region and to the spread of valuable materials, used as elements of exchange in trade, particularly for the rich elites of the indigenous communities. One of the most repeated reasons is the supposed interest in the grain trade, as mentioned in several literary sources starting from the middle fifth century, but the question is still open and other items are assumed to have played an important role.75 For the period from the late sixth on, the Athenian bronze vessels found in these regions seem contemporary with the Athenian pieces from the Macedonian

Fuchs 1978: 115. Kakhidze 2005. 75  Braund 2007: 39-68; Moreno 2007: 69-70; Tsetskhladze 2010b. 73  74 

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Shtitelman, F.M. 1977. Works of world art in the Ukraine Museums, Kiev. Skytische Kunst 1986: B.B. Piotrovskij, L. Konstantinovna Galanina, A. Petrunin (edd), Skytische Kunst: Altertümer der skytischen Welt: Mitte des 7. Bis zum 3. Jahrbundert v.u.Z. Leningrad: Aurora. Sowder, A.A.2009. Greek Bronze Hydriai, dissertation Emory University. Tarditi, C. 1996. Vasi in bronzo in area Apula. Galatina: Congedo Tarditi, C. 2007. La diffusione del vasellame in bronzo greco in Italia e in Europa: modalità e limiti. In C. Tarditi (ed.), Dalla Grecia all’Europa: la circolazione di beni di lusso e di modelli culturali nel VI e V sec. a.C.: 23-52. Milano: Vita e Pensiero. Tarditi, C. 2014. Il motivo del leone nell’Atene arcaica. Diffusione e stile nella produzione ateniese di vasellame in bronzo. In Erga-Logoi 2.2: 31-63. Tarditi, C. 2016. Bronze vessels from the Acropolis. Roma: Quasar Treister, M. 2002. Grecia settentrionale e il Regno del Bosforo. In Le arti di Efesto: 63-67. Milano: Silvana. Treister, M. 2010a. Bronze and Silver Greek, Macedonian and Etruscan Vessels in Scythia. In Bollettino di Archeologia on line, vol. speciale, 17th International Congress of Classical Archaeology, Roma 22-26 Sept. 2008: 9-26. Treister, M. 2010b. Аrchaic Bronzes. Greece – Asia Minor – North Pontic Area. In S. Solovyov (ed.), Archaic Greek Culture: History, Archaeology, Art and Museology, Proceedings of the International Round-Table Conference, St-Petersburg June 2005, BAR: 109-120. Solovyov (ed.), Archaic Greek Culture: History, Archaeology, Art and Museology, Proceedings of the International RoundTable Conference, St-Petersburg June 2005, BAR: 109-120. True, M., Hamma, K. 1994. A passion for Antiquities. Malibu: J Paul Getty Museum Publications . Tstetskhladze, G.R. 2010. Beware of Greeks Bearing Gifts. In R. Rollinger, B. Gufler, M. Lang, I. Madreiter (edd.), Interkulturalität in der Alten Welt: 41-55. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Tstetskhladze, G.R. 2010b. Black Sea Trade: some further general observations. In Anadolou araştirmalari 19, 2006: 197-212. Tstestskhladze, G.R. 2011. The Scythians: Three Essays. In G.R. Tstetskhladze (ed.), The Black Sea, Greece, Anatolia and Europe in the First Millennium BC: 95-139. Leuven: Peeters Publishers. Vlassopoulou, C. 1990. Decorated architectural terracottas from the Athenian Acropolis, Catalogue of Exhibition. In Hesperia 59: 1-31. Weber, T. 1983. Bronzekannen. Archäologische Studien 5. Frankfurt am Main-Bern.

Fitzwilliam Exposition. From the Land of the Golden Fleece. Tomb treasures of Ancient Georgia, Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge 2008-2009. Fuchs, W. 1978. Bronzegefässe in Kiev. In Boreas 1: 113-115. Furtwängler, A. 1890. Die Bronzen und die übrigen kleineren Funde von Olympia, OLYMPIA IV. Berlin: Asher. Ganina, O.D. 1970. Antichni bronzi iz Pishchanogo. Kiev. Gauer, W. 1981. Ein spätarchaischer Becken-griff mit Tierkampfgruppe, Olympiabericht X: 111-165. Berlin: De Gruyter. Gauer, W. 1991. Die Bronzegefässe von Olympia, I, Olympische Forschungen XX. Berlin: De Gruyter. Gualtieri, M. 1990. Rituale funerario di una aristocrazia lucana (fine V-inizio III sec. a.C.). In M. Tagliente (ed.), Italici in Magna Grecia. Lingua, insediamenti e strutture: 161-214. Venosa: Osanna. Holloway, R. R., Nabers, N. 1982. The princely burial of Roscingo (Monte Pruno), Salerno. In Revue des Archéologues et Historiens d’Art de Louvain: 97-163. Jantzen, U.1958. Griechische Griffphialen, Winkelmannsprogramm Berlin 114: 5-29. Kakhidze, A. 2005. Athens and the Black Sea Area in the Late Archaic and Classical Periods. In D. Kacharava, M. Faudot, E. Geny (edd.), Pont-Euxin et  polis:  polis hellenis  et  polis barbaron. Actes du Xe Symposium de Vani, 23-26 septembre 2002 : Hommage à Otar Lordkipanidzé et Pierre Lévêque, Collection ‘ ISTA ‘ Année 2005 Volume 979 : 115-118. Montanaro, A. C. 2007. Ruvo di Puglia e il suo territorio: le necropoli, Roma: L’Erma di Bretschneider. Moreno, A. 2007. Athenian Wheat-Tsars: Black Sea Grain and Elite Culture. In V. Gabrielsen, J. Lund (edd.), The Black Sea in Antiquity: regional and interregional economics exchanges: 69-84. Aarthus: Aarthus University Press. Petropoulos E. K. 2015. Ancient Greek Colonisation and Modern Scholarship: Colonial Endeavours in the Black Sea Region. In P. Adam-Veleni (ed.), Greek Colonisation New Data, Current Approaches, Proceedings of the Scientific Meeting held in Thessaloniki (6 February 2015): 93-112. Picòn, C.A. 2007. Art of the Classical World in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York: Yale University Press. Piotrovsky, B. 1973-74. Early Cultures of the Lands of the Scythians. In From the land of the Schythians, cat. Exposition, Metropolitan Bull 32: 12-25. Rolley, C. 2003: Cl. Rolley (ed), La tombe princière de Vix. Paris: Piccard. Scythian Gold 2000. E.D. Reeder (ed.), Scythian Gold. New York: Abrams. Shefton B.B.2001. Adriatic links between Aegean Greece and early iron age Europe during the archaic and early classical periods. In Anemos 2: 7-44.

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Makron’s Eleusinian Mysteries: Vase-Painting, Myth, and Dress in Late Archaic Greece Anthony F. Mangieri

Figure 1. Makron’s Triptolemos skyphos, Attic red-figure cup attributed to Makron, obverse with Mission of Triptolemos, including Demeter, Persephone, and Eleusis, ca. 490-480 BCE. London, The British Museum E140. Around 490-480 BCE the Athenian red-figure vase-painter Makron decorated a cup with a scene from the cult myth of the Eleusinian Mysteries, today in the British Museum (Figures 1-2, 5, 9).1 Scholars refer to it as the ‘Triptolemos skyphos’ after the picture of Triptolemos’ departure on the obverse, which has attracted the most interest. This paper offers a new interpretation of Makron’s vase by shifting attention to the representation of Demeter in the departure scene, since it is her Mysteries that are celebrated. In particular, I focus on Makron’s singular creation of Demeter’s historiated himation, which depicts eagles, dolphins, large felines, chariots, swans, and running and winged figures, all silhouetted in black, racing around the horizontal bands of her mantle between rows of pattern (Figure 2).

garments once worn by historical people.2 Instead, I examine Demeter’s cloak as a poetic construction that reveals the artist’s exegesis of myth and cult. J.D. Beazley commented that ‘the signal beauty of his [Makron’s] drawing resides in his women’s clothes.’3 While Makron is known to like decorative detailing, I argue that he uses decoration in meaningful ways to add new layers of meaning to his picture and that the Triptolemos skyphos offers a case study that allows us to explore the poetics of decorating dress in vase-painting. Makron was one of the great cup painters active during the Late Archaic period, and even within his prolific output— which includes over 600 vases and fragments attributed to his hand—the imagery of Demeter’s cloak is unique. Many of the motifs Makron selects are rare for our artist or used sparingly

Scholars have been most interested in representations of dress on Greek vases for what they can tell us about actual

On Greek dress, see recently Lee 2015, Brøns 2017; on its decoration, see Lee 2015: 93-5, Vickers 1999; on approaches to ancient dress, see Cifarelli and Gawlinski 2017. 3  Beazley 1918: 102. On Makron’s representation of dress, see Kunisch 1997: 56-61. 2 

London, The British Museum E140 (ARV2 459.3, 481, 1654, Paralipomena 377, Addenda2 243, BAPD 204683). 1 

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Eleusinian Mysteries, the most important mystery cult for the Greeks that was active for over 1,000 years and the secrets of which were never revealed.6 Makron’s vase is significant in the history of Greek vase-painting because it is the first or one of the first to do a number of things. Makron gives us the first true geographical personification in the figure of Eleusis, one of the first scenes of Triptolemos making a libation, the first Triptolemos scene that wraps 360-degrees around the entire vase, and the earliest representation of Dionysos in a certain Eleusinian context.7 While Makron depicts Triptolemos’ mission using familiar iconographic conventions, his noteworthy creation of Demeter’s cloak is another of his accomplishments. Demeter, described in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter as ‘mighty giver of seasons and glorious gifts’ (line 492), holds a sheaf of grain in her left hand and a flaming torch in her right.8 The goddess’ himation is an elaborate affair divided into horizontal bands of decoration with figures and creatures painted in black against the reserved color of the clay as in the black-figure technique. Ten different motifs appear on the cloak, each a varying number of times. The most common motif is the dolphin, which appears four times with wings and eleven times without wings, followed by the eagle or bird that appears eight times. There are also three panthers, three horses, one Pegasos, three running men, one winged running figure, and two swans. The most complex is a two horse chariot and rider, which appears in full just once and is likely suggested at least two more times. Makron’s painting of Demeter’s garment is an artistic creation comparable to ekphrases of dress and textiles in ancient literature.9 In dressing Demeter in such a robe, Makron moves beyond mere embellishment and creates a visual encomium that celebrates the goddess, telling her story and embodying the religious fervor central to the Mysteries, similar to the Homeric Hymn to Demeter. It is to Demeter’s himation as a mode of storytelling and its relation to the Homeric Hymn to Demeter that we turn next. Telling the Cult Myth of the Eleusinian Mysteries

Figure 2. Makron’s Triptolemos skyphos, detail, drawing of Demeter (artwork in the public domain; photograph from Adolf Furtwängler and Karl Reichhold, Griechische Vasenmalerei: Auswahl hervorragender Vasenbilder, vol. 3 [Munich: F. Bruckmann, 1932], pl. 161).

The earliest known telling of the Demeter and Persephone myth in art or literature is the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, composed between 650-550 BCE by an anonymous poet or poets, and it is important for our understanding of Eleusinian cult practice.10 It is also our fullest surviving literary source for the Eleusinian Mysteries. We can imagine ancient viewers looking at the goddess’ garment, and its decoration serving as a prompt for storytelling, reminding beholders of the cult myth, like that told in the Hymn, that might then trigger

elsewhere in his work; they are not just hastily executed filler.4 Rather, I will show how Makron uses sartorial decoration to tell the cult myth of Eleusis, to imagine a visual cosmology, and to model the religious experience of revelation, thus transforming his cup into a devotional object that sheds new light on art and the Mysteries in ancient Greece.

On the Eleusinian Mysteries and mystery cults in general, see Mylonas 1961, Burkert 1985: 285-90, Burkert 1987, ThesCRA 2 (2004), s.v. Initiation, p. 91-6 (W. Burkert); ThesCRA 7 (2011), s.v. Feste und Spiele, p. 11 note 57, and p.118-21 (I. Krauskopf), Parker 2005: 327-68, Bowden 2010, Bremmer 2014, Cosmopoulos 2015. 7  Shapiro 2013: 94-6, Shapiro 1989: 87. 8  On Demeter in art, see LIMC 4 (1988), s.v. Demeter, p. 844-92 (L. Beschi). All translations of the Homeric Hymn to Demeter are by H.P. Foley 1999. 9  Barthes 1967: 236 on clothing as a ‘poetic object.’ On textiles in literature, see Vickers 1999, Scheid and Svenbro 2001, Fanfani, Harlow, and Nosch 2016. 10  On seeing the poem as significant for understanding the cult, see Parker 1991: 6, Simon 1997: 99, Faulkner 2011: 21; against, see Clinton 1986: 43-9, Clinton 1992: 28-37. 6 

In the Mission of Triptolemos scene, Demeter has just shared her secrets of agriculture with the Eleusinian prince, who rides in a winged wheel seat to take these gifts to the world (Figure 1).5 Persephone pours a libation into the prince’s phiale and behind her is a woman named Eleusis, a personification of the place where the Mysteries take place. Inscriptions name all of the figures. This scene represents the founding of the On Makron, see Kunisch 1997, Beazley 1955: 84-97, von Bothmer 1982: 29-52, Robertson 1992: 100-6. 5  On Triptolemos in art, see LIMC 8 (1997), s.v. Triptolemos, p. 56-68 (G. Schwarz) with earlier bibliography. 4 

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further narrative and contemplation. Individual motifs like the chariot and rider, for instance, could bring to mind Hades’ abduction of Persephone and descent to the underworld or her ascent back to earth. The image of the chariot and driver on the Triptolemos skyphos stands out especially for being rare in Makron’s work. Besides the image on Demeter’s himation, we only know Makron to have painted a chariot team one other time.11 On Demeter’s cloak, the chariot appears above the row of zigzags, eagles, dolphins, and palmettes. It brings to mind the ascent back to earth that Hades makes with Persephone that we read about in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, with their chariot swiftly making the long journey, in which ‘not sea nor / river waters, not grassy glens nor mountain peaks / slowed the speed of the immortal horses, / slicing the deep air as they flew above these places.’12 Makron’s imagery encourages viewers to see in the pictures a story they already know, with the zigzags and eagles conjuring the soaring over mountain peaks, the dolphins representing the sea, and the palmettes for the grassy glens. Another example is the flying eagles on Demeter’s himation that evoke the simile in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter that describes how the goddess ‘sped like a bird over dry land and sea, / searching.’13 The eagles towards the lower hem of Demeter’s cloak that soar over a row of dolphins and palmettes bring to mind such a description. Homer often compares the movement of gods and goddesses to that of birds, so such poetic language and imagery would have been readily grasped as part of an established tradition.14

The Triptolemos skyphos is not the only vase that demonstrates Makron’s love of embellishing garments and of using decoration for narrative and poetic effects. On a kylix in Berlin, Makron dresses a cult statue of Dionysos in a garment decorated mainly with dolphins and ornamental bands of scrollwork that look as if the dolphins leap up from waves of the sea (Figures 3 and 4).18 The dolphins may have prompted some viewers to think of the story in the Homeric Hymn to Dionysos (7) that tells of the god turning the pirates who kidnap him into dolphins. The dolphins, thus, bring to mind a story about transformation, appropriate for the scene of maenads on Makron’s cup depicting the worship of the god of wine and the ecstatic, altered states associated with him. Makron may depict Dionysos again on this vase as decoration on the pediment of the altar in his honor, and the god appears ‘in the flesh’ in the cup’s tondo. These different versions of Dionysos—cult statue, altar decoration, and god incarnate— reverberate off of one another to create a clever visual play and self-referentiality. Makron’s embellishment of Dionysos’ garment not only evokes another story, but also triggers contemplation of the god’s nature, powers, different aspects, and realms of influence. At the same time, Makron is not the first nor the only vase-painter to decorate garments with poetic intentions, a broader narrative practice that reveals how such decoration interacts with the context of a scene’s subject matter.19 An earlier example is the François vase, on which Kleitias uses the motif of the chariot procession to decorate peploi of figures taking part in the procession celebrating the marriage of Peleus and Thetis in a selfreferential, picture-in-picture conceit.20

Similarly, Demeter’s cloak prompts viewers to recall specific features of the cult myth’s narrative and poetic elaboration known to us from the Homeric Hymn to Demeter. In effect, the himation becomes a storytelling cloth.15 Being able to record stories or events through textiles (like Helen’s weaving of the battles of the Greeks and Trojans in the Iliad) and to deduce a narrative from a woven picture (like the story of Prokne and Philomela) is part of Greek narrative and mythological traditions, and it is within this matrix of storytelling and textiles that Makron’s creation belongs.16 Likewise, a gigantomachy decorated the peplos for the cult statue of Athena that the Athenians wove yearly for the Panathenaia as an offering to the patron goddess of their city.17 Makron may have intended something similar to honor Demeter on the celebration of her most important festival. Once we see Demeter’s himation as a storytelling cloth, we have to consider its role within the vase’s larger decoration. Just as the Homeric Hymn to Demeter has two narratives, we might think of the obverse of Makron’s Triptolemos skyphos as also having a framing story and a central story. The central story is Triptolemos’ departure to take Demeter’s gifts of agriculture to humankind, while Demeter’s himation offers the framing story, which recalls and evokes events and themes from the cult myth.

As the imagery of Makron’s Triptolemos skyphos encircles it in a 360 degree frieze, we need to consider how the figures of Zeus, Dionysos, and Amphitrite on the reverse, and of Poseidon under one handle, relate to the Eleusinian scene on the front and further help to tell the cult myth of the Mysteries (Figure 5). The images on Demeter’s himation can be seen as visual cues that signal the attributes and iconography of the divinities represented elsewhere on the cup. So, for instance, the eagles can evoke Zeus, the dolphins and horses bring to mind Poseidon, and the felines cue Dionysos, well known references in the repertoire of Attic iconography. All of these gods play a role in the context of the Eleusinian myths and have connections to Demeter. Zeus was Persephone’s father and in the opening lines of the Homeric Hymn to Demeter we learn that he allows Hades to abduct her without Demeter’s consent. Alan Shapiro has already commented on the close connections between Poseidon and Demeter in the cult, and how these are reflected on Makron’s skyphos.21 Stories of abduction and rape bind the figures on this vase. Just as Hades abducts and rapes Persephone, so too did Poseidon’s pursuit of Amphitrite occur in the same way. In myth, Demeter is raped by both Zeus and Poseidon. That contemporary people may have seen allusions to these various myths of rape finds support in the archaeological context of Makron’s skyphos, which was found in the Brygos Tomb in Campania, Italy. In this tomb, six abduction scenes appear on four of its seven

Paris, Musée du Louvre G271 (ARV2 461.33, Addenda2 244, BAPD 204715). Makron also depicts boys playing with toy chariots on an aryballos in Oxford, Ashmolean Museum 1929.175 (ARV2 480.337, 1585, Addenda2 247, BAPD 205020). See von Bothmer 1982: 40, Kunisch 1997: 102-3. 12  Hom. Hymn. Dem. 380-3. 13  Hom. Hymn. Dem. 43-4. 14  Richardson 1974: 164 (with references). 15  Barber 1991: 358-82, Tuck 2006: 539-50, Tuck 2009: 151-9. 16  Iliad 3.125-7. LIMC 7 (1994), s.v. Prokne et Philomela, p. 527-9 (E. Touloupa). See also Scheid and Svenbro 2001. 17  Barber 1992: 103-17 (with bibliography). 11 

Berlin, Antikensammlung F2290 (ARV2 462.48, 481, 1654, Paralipomena 377, Addenda2 244, BAPD 204730). 19  This is the subject of a book on which I am currently working. 20  Florence, Museo Archeologico Etrusco 4209 (ABV 76.1, 682, Paralipomena 29, Addenda2 21, BAPD 300000). 21  Shapiro 1989: 110. See also Papahatzis 1988. 18 

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Figure 3. Attributed to Makron, Attic red-figure kylix, obverse with dancing maenads at an altar and cult statue of Dionysos, ca. 490-480 BCE. Berlin, Antikensammlung F2290.

Figure 4. Detail of Berlin, Antikensammlung F2290.

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Figure 5. Makron’s Triptolemos skyphos, reverse with Zeus, Dionysos, and Amphitrite. vases (Figure 6).22 While the gods represented on the reverse of the vase and beneath the handles have their place at Eleusis, they also highlight the different realms of the universe over which they reign, another prominent theme in the cult myth of the Mysteries.

the reverse and under one handle of the Triptolemos skyphos both hold dolphins. The eagle is often an attribute of Zeus, and is thus associated with its soaring in the heavens (Zeus also is represented on the cup’s reverse). The winged horse and man also have to do with flight and the heavens. And the horses, felines, and running figures are earthbound and relate to the land. Vase-painters often use creatures as a shorthand to denote realms like land or sea. Red-figure vase-painters, for example, depict creatures in black against the reserved boulder representing part of the island of Kos with which Poseidon fights in gigantomachy scenes. A painter that recalls the Argos Painter depicts a wide array of life on the island, including a dolphin, scorpion, centipede, octopus, deer and snake (Figure 7).26 These creatures reference both the land and sea, fitting since Kos is an island. These symbols resonate in the scene as the god of the Sea fights a child of Earth, a cosmic battle that served to inscribe the Greek’s world view about the order of the realms of the universe. Scholars have explored how the different realms of the universe and cosmic order play a central role in the narrative and themes of the Demeter and Persephone story as told in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter.27 In particular, Jenny Clay and Helene Foley have analyzed how the realms of the cosmos and the hierarchy of gods and mortals are renegotiated in the Hymn to Demeter.28 By sharing her Mysteries with humankind Demeter offers mortals a better lot in the afterlife, thereby lessening the boundaries between humans and gods and bringing together

Creating a Visual Cosmology Besides telling the cult myth of the Eleusinian Mysteries, Makron uses the imagery of Demeter’s himation to create a visual cosmology. The ancient Greeks thought of the world as divided into three realms or spheres, well-known from passages of the Iliad and Theogony.23 The ekphrasis of Achilles’ shield in the Iliad, for instance, describes Hephaistos forging ‘the earth upon it, and the sky, and the seas’s water.’24 The poet (or poets) of the Homeric Hymn to Demeter also makes repeated reference to these three realms or spheres. The flower that Hades uses to ensnare Persephone, for instance, smelled so delicious, that ‘the whole vast heaven above / and the whole earth laughed, and the salty swell of the sea.’25 Likewise, Makron uses the running figures and creatures, dolphins, and eagles on Demeter’s cloak as signs for ‘Land/ Earth,’ ‘Sea,’ and ‘Air/Heaven.’ Makron uses symbols, ideograms, to create a visual, allegorical representation of the universe. He gives us a cosmology in images that rivals those recorded in the Hesiodic and Homeric poems. Dolphins or fish are common symbols of the sea. Amphitrite and Poseidon on

Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum 688 (ARV2 255.2, Addenda2 203, BAPD 202916). 27  Rudhardt 1978, Segal 1981: 113, Alderink 1982, Clay 1989, Richardson 2011: 53-4. 28  Clay 1989: 8-11, Foley 1999: 35. The significance of Clay’s approach is discussed in Faulkner 2011: 19-20 and Richardson 2011: 54. 26 

Beazley 1945, Williams 1992, Stansbury-O’Donnell 2011: 96-8. 23  Iliad 15.189-92; Theogony, lines 104-13. 24  18.483. Translated by Lattimore 2011. 25  Lines 13-14. Other examples in the poem at lines 33-6, 38-9, 69-70, and 380-3. 22 

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Figure 6. The vases from the Brygos Tomb, Tomb II at Capua, reassembled.

Figure 7. Attributed to a painter that recalls the Argos Painter, Attic red-figure column-krater with Poseidon using the island of Kos to fight the giant Ephialtes, ca. 490-480 BCE. Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum 688.

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the realms of the universe rather than separating them. With Demeter’s himation, Makron creates a visual cosmology that has meaning in the context of the Demeter and Persephone story.

within).’35 Besides Roman examples of illuminated images from Mithraea, Clinton also identifies a marble votive plaque found in the Telesterion at Eleusis that depicts the head of Demeter with rays emanating from it in red as supporting the type of illumination of holy things in the Mysteries.36 The ritual use of light in the Mysteries was a way of invoking divine revelation. In the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, light reveals the goddess’ divinity, as when Demeter reveals herself to Metaneira and the other women and ‘a light beamed far out from the goddess’s immortal skin.’37

Seeing the Mysteries and Modeling the Experience of Revelation While we can reconstruct various parts of the Eleusinian rituals from our sources, the most important parts of the Mysteries are still shrouded in secrecy. Most scholars agree that the Mysteries were not a secret shared with initiates or a doctrine to be learned, but something that required contemplation. Aristotle even wrote that the Eleusinian Mysteries were not something learned, but rather experienced.29 As Helene Foley articulates it, ‘the secret rites did not pass on any secret doctrine or world view or inculcate beliefs, but . . . its blessings came from experiencing and viewing signs, symbols, stories, or dramas and bonding with fellow initiates.’30 Robert Parker has already shown how the structure of the Homeric Hymn to Demeter itself models the different levels of revelation experienced by mystai and epoptai in echoing stages of initiation in the Mysteries.31 Our vase too enacts aspects of revelation and exegesis in a way that is in some respects well-suited for the visual aspects of the Mysteries. The most important part of the celebration of the Mysteries was the moment of revelation that took place inside the Telesterion, where initiates would see something. After the dramatic re-enactment of the ‘search’ for Kore, initiates were led in the dark night to the Telesterion where they saw Demeter and her daughter reunited.32 Then the doors of the initiation hall would be opened and initiates beheld a miraculous light, the ‘great light’ that Plutarch records flooding the night.33 As initiates anxiously, loudly, and enthusiastically entered the Telesterion, they would see the epoptai (previous initiates) standing on the steps that surrounded the perimeter of the room, which served as a place of witness, holding torches or the ‘special devices’ that created the famed light of Eleusis.34 At this point the mystai or initiates must have had their blindfolds removed as they were about to be shown images of some sort. Light would reveal these things, and the Hierophant would stand on a platform and reveal sacred objects to the initiates.

The importance of light and dark is a motif that Makron also exploits through the red and black, light and dark format of the vase he paints. Makron likes to play with light and dark effects, and his sensitivity to light adds to the experience of his vases. The Boston Helen skyphos epitomizes the ‘light effect’ Makron often favors through the use of spread drapery that minimizes the black background and asserts the reserved color of the clay, giving the vase a lighter appearance (Figure 8).38 On this vase he also juxtaposes on one side the light colored Aeneas with the darker look of the angry Menelaos. The black figured motifs on Demeter’s himation similarly play with effects of light and dark, and Makron’s decoration may have evoked for some viewers the dark cloak that Demeter puts on just before searching for Persephone in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter. The epithet ‘dark-robed’ or ‘of the dark robe’ appears numerous times in the Homeric Hymn to refer to the goddess, and she continues to wear this dark robe even after she reunites with Persephone.39 At the same time, the figures silhouetted in black against the natural, light color of the clay makes them look as if they are illuminated. Just as red rays emanate from Demeter’s head on the votive plaque from Eleusis, so too might one see the red background of Demeter’s garment as light emanating from the images themselves. The dark images against the light background might have reminded initiates of how they would have seen sacred objects revealed to them by the Hierophant. With a ring of torchlight held by epoptai surrounding the inside of the Telesterion, the mystai would have been shown objects held up against a glorious blaze of light. If these images were illuminated from below or behind, they also would have appeared silhouetted against the blazing fire behind, an effect not so different from what we see on our vase. The images Makron depicts on Demeter’s himation are not the images shown during the Mysteries, but the appearance of dark and light enacts the visual experience of revelation, a visual trigger of not what initiates saw, but how it appeared to their senses. Makron does not divulge the Mysteries, but he models a religious experience. It is a visual evocation of what would have been the most important religious experience of one’s life—images shown against the huge or great fire. Makron further models the importance of seeing

What did they see? Reviewing the evidence, Kevin Clinton concludes, ‘it seems virtually certain that such extraordinary illuminated images were a feature of the rite.’ Drawing also on Plato’s description of images with ‘beauty blazing out’ in the Phaedrus, Clinton explains that ‘the images in the Mysteries are illuminated from within (or at least from close up, so as to give an impression of illumination from Fr. 15=Synesius Dion 10 p.48a. See Richardson 1974: 314, Parker 2005: 353. 30  Foley 1999: 70. See also Boyancé 1962, Bérard 2008. 31  Parker 1991: 12-3. 32  My description of the reenactment of events follows much as outlined by Clinton 1992: 87-9 and Clinton 2004. 33  De prof. virt. 81D-E. 34  We cannot know exactly the source of the famed fire and light of Eleusis. Clinton 2004: 95-6 discusses the different kinds of light and speaks of ‘special devices.’ Parker 2005: 353 notes that ‘it would be an exhausting and perhaps a vain task to attempt to sort them into different classes—torches outside the telesterion, torches inside the telesterion, fire inside the telesterion, and so on.’ 29 

Clinton 2004: 98 and more fully in 97-100; Phaedrus 249-250c, trans. Rowe 1986. In seeing illuminated statues as the main revelation, Clinton follows earlier scholars like Lobeck 1829, Rohde 1898, Boyancé 1937, Boyancé 1962 (discussed in Clinton 2004: 100 note 48). 36  Athens, National Archaeological Museum 5256 (IG II2 4639, LIMC 4, s.v. Demeter no. 161). Clinton 2004: 98 and Clinton 2008: 110. 37  Line 278. Also at line 189. Discussed in Segal 1981: 126ff and 136-7. 38  Boston, Museum of Fine Arts 13.186 (ARV2 458.1, 1654, 481, Paralipomena 377, Addenda2 243, BAPD 204681). See also Beazley 1955: 85, Robertson 1992: 105. 39  Lines 182, 319, 360, 374, 443. 35 

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Figure 8. Signed by Makron, Attic red-figure skyphos with the abduction of Helen, c. 490-480 BCE. Boston, Museum of Fine Arts 13.186. in the Mysteries by using the seated figures of Eumolpos, the chief priest who shows things to initiates during the secret rituals, and Poseidon beneath the handles to frame the scene on the front (Figure 9). Both look over their shoulders to watch as Demeter shares her gifts, further underscoring the importance of vision, seeing, and witnessing that are at the heart of the Mysteries.

Evoking the experience of revelation through the motifs on Demeter’s garment also enables Makron to visualize the goddess’ epiphany in the Mysteries. The varied forms that Greek gods can take in art and literature requires that for viewers or readers to experience a god’s epiphany that they engage in what Verity Platt describes as a ‘complex semiological process’ that involves a ‘challenging act of simultaneous recognition and interpretation.’42 Through the imagery of Demeter’s garment, Makron explores this ontological dimension to epiphany that allows a mortal to see a divine manifestation. Makron requires viewers to look closely at Demeter’s garment, as recognition and interpretation of specific images then activate their knowledge and understanding of the cult myth and reveal her divinity.

The central placement of Dionysos on the cup’s reverse, also plays a role in our interpretation (Figure 5). Dionysos’ prominence on this vase is easiest to explain because he was an important deity at Eleusis who also had a cult and festivals in his honor. Some scholars even see him as the paredros or one enthroned beside Demeter.40 Elsewhere I have argued that Makron depicts Dionysos as an initiate at Eleusis on this vase because of iconographic features like the god’s truncated thyrsos, dress, associations with Triptolemos, and the absence of his usual band of followers.41 This would make Makron’s skyphos the earliest representation of Dionysos as an Eleusinian initiate in Greek art. Moreover, the figure of the god then mediates the initiatory experience of the Mysteries for the vase’s beholder.

While one might argue that Makron’s decoration of Demeter’s garment on the Triptolemos skyphos is in some respects no different from his decoration of other vases, it is the Eleusinian context that encourages us to see more. Only after the experience of initiation can one see Demeter’s himation in a new way. This idea of seeing something new in the familiar may be part of the great Mystery. Robert Parker has asked, ‘Would the secret of Eleusis, could we know it, come as a surprise?’43 If the Hierophant showed an ear of corn or a statue of some kind, such things were not esoteric, but it

On Dionysos, see LIMC 3 (1986), s.v. Dionysos, p. 414-514 (C. Gasparri); represented with Eleusinian divinities, see LIMC 3, s.v. Dionysos cat. nos. 523-34 (p. 467-68); his connection to the Mysteries, see Metzger 1951: 250-2, Metzger 1995: 3-22; as separate from the Mysteries: Mylonas 1960, Mylonas 1961: 275-8, Clinton 1992: 123-5. 41  Mangieri 2016. 40 

42  43 

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Figure 9. Makron’s Triptolemos skyphos, detail showing Eumolpos beneath the cup’s handle. would be within the context of the ritual that they took on new meaning.44 Maybe this too is what Makron does with the decoration of Demeter’s garment. For those who have not experienced initiation, it is just black-figure decoration on a red-figure vase. But for those who have seen things by the fires of Eleusis, the context encourages them to see more in its imagery, to think back to their initiations, and to contemplate the Mysteries of Demeter. In effect, Makron transforms the skyphos itself because it is more than just a cup—it becomes a devotional object.

vase’s role in a burial may have served as a kind of assurance that the deceased would enjoy the benefits of the Mysteries in the afterlife as promised, or it may have been a status symbol for an important person in the cult. We might even see the viewer’s experience of Makron’s vase as modeling the different stages of initiation in the Mysteries themselves.46 Holding the vase and looking at the main Triptolemos picture for the first time, the viewer recalls the story and may think about the significance of Triptolemos’ mission, a popular subject at this time. This may be likened to the first stage of initiation, that of myesis. When one looks at this scene frontally, however, the figure of Demeter is not fully visible because of the vase’s curvature. When we turn the vase in our hands, we see Demeter and her complex garment is revealed to us. A higher order rumination is required to understand its imagery, which we might see as like the epopteia, the next level of initiation, which arguably required greater insight. So too can one appreciate Makron’s vase on different levels. The narrative of the Triptolemos scene is straightforward and paralleled on many other vases. But the creation of Demeter’s himation requires the viewer to bring a more learned knowledge of the Eleusinian cult myth to fully

Vases like Makron’s and others that deal with Eleusinian and cultic scenes may have been souvenirs for those initiated in the Mysteries and there could have been a market for vases that alluded to secret aspects of the cult for those initiated. Such vases would have reminded an owner about one of the most important experiences of his or her life, cherished objects that could be buried with a person.45 In this way, the In reference to Hippolytos’ claim that corn was the revelation to initiates, Sourvinou-Inwood 2003: 36 argues, ‘if the ear of corn had been perceived to be a mysterion, it was a mysterion in context; it was not the existence of the ear of corn that was the mystery—how could it be? It was its appearance at a particular place and time, as part of a particular ritual, ascribed a particular meaning and significance by the context.’ 45  Clinton 1992: 91; Parker 2005: 334 notes fairly that ‘we cannot confidently explain them [vases with Eleusinian subjects] as 44 

‘advertisements’ or ‘souvenirs.’’ 46  On the different stages of initiation, see Clinton 2003.

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interpret it. This personal exchange with the vase and the possibility of having a metaphorical epopteia in interpreting Makron’s imagery underscores ways in which the vasepainter communicates a religious profundity through his art.

Burkert, W. 1987. Ancient Mystery Cults. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Cifarelli, M., and L. Gawlinski (ed). 2017. What Shall I Say of Clothes? Theoretical and Methodological Approaches to the Study of Dress in Antiquity. Boston: Archaeological Institute of America. Clay, J.S. 1989. The Politics of Olympus: Form and Meaning in the Major Homeric Hymns. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Clinton, K. 1986. The Author of the Homeric Hymn to Demeter. In OpAth 16: 43-9. Clinton, K. 1992. Myth and Cult: The Iconography of the Eleusinian Mysteries. The Martin P. Nilsson lectures on Greek religion, delivered 19-21 November 1990 at the Swedish Institute at Athens. Skrifter Utgivna av Svenska Institutet i Athen. Stockholm: Svenska institutet i Athen. Clinton, K. 2003. Stages of Initiation in the Eleusinian and Samothracian Mysteries. In M.B. Cosmopoulos (ed.) Greek Mysteries: The Archaeology and Ritual of Ancient Greek Secret Cults: 50-78. New York: Routledge. Clinton, K. 2004. Epiphany in the Eleusinian Mysteries. In Illinois Classical Studies 29: 85-109. Clinton, K. 2008. Eleusis. The Inscriptions on Stone. Documents of the Sanctuary of the Two Goddesses and Public Documents of the Deme. Volume II. The Archaeological Society at Athens Library No. 259. Athens: The Archaeological Society at Athens. Cosmopoulos, M.B. 2015. Bronze Age Eleusis and the Origins of the Eleusinian Mysteries. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Fanfani, G., M. Harlow, and M.-L. Nosch. 2016. Spinning Fates and the Song of the Loom: The Use of Textiles, Clothing and Cloth Production as Metaphor, Symbol and Narrative Device in Greek and Latin Literature. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Faulkner, A. 2011. Introduction: Modern Scholarship on the Homeric Hymns: Foundational Issues. In A. Faulkner (ed.) The Homeric Hymns: Interpretive Essays: 1-25. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Foley, H.P. 1999. The Homeric Hymn to Demeter: Translation, Commentary, and Interpretive Essays. Mythos Series. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Kunisch, N. 1997. Makron. Mainz am Rhein: Philipp von Zabern. Lattimore, R., trans. 2011. The Iliad of Homer. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Lee, M.M. 2015. Bodies, Dress, and Identity in Ancient Greece. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lobeck, C.A. 1829. Aglaophamus sive de theologiae mysticae Graecorum causis. Königsberg: Bornträger. Mangieri, A.F. 2016. God as Cult Initiate: Dionysos and the Eleusinian Mysteries in Greek Vase-Painting. In Art Inquiries 17: 42-56. Metzger, H. 1951. Les représentations dans la céramique attique du IVe siècle. BEFAR 172. Paris: E. de Boccard. Metzger, H. 1995. Le Dionysos des images éleusiniennes du IVe siècle. In RA: 3-22. Mylonas, G. E. 1961. Eleusis and the Eleusinian Mysteries. Princeton. Mylonas, G. E. 1960. Eλευσὶς καὶ Διόνυσος. In ArchEph 99: 68118. Papahatzis, N. 1988. H Θεὰ Δήμητρα ‘σύνναος’ τοῦ Ποσειδώνα. In ArchEph 127: 11-14. Parker, R. 1991. The Hymn to Demeter and the Homeric Hymns. In GaR 38: 1-17.

Makron’s garment itself becomes the ‘mystery’ to be puzzled over, contemplated, and understood, just as one reading the Homeric Hymn to Demeter may have had a similar experience.47 The imagery of Demeter’s himation offers visual prompts that Makron uses to lead the viewer through layers of stories and beliefs, and associations and evocations that gloss the cult myth and ritual of the Eleusinian Mysteries. Makron’s vase offers a new perspective on the Eleusinian Mysteries because as an artist he was able to do something that writers could not: he could ‘show’ or reveal images to the viewer, highlighting the important visual aspects of the Mysteries. The viewer’s experience of Makron’s vase—the act of looking at the imagery of Demeter’s garment, trying to understand the motifs, appreciating the vase’s iconographic program, and relating it to their own cultic experiences—could prompt religious reflection and serve as a conduit for the ritual contemplation of imagery that was at the heart of the Eleusinian Mysteries. Bibliography Alderink, L.J. 1982. Mythological and Cosmological Structure in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter. In Numen 29: 1-16. Barber, E.J.W. 1991. Prehistoric Textiles: The Development of Cloth in the Neolithic and Bronze Ages with Special Reference to the Aegean. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Barber, E.J.W. 1992. The Peplos of Athena. In J. Neils (ed.) Goddess and Polis: The Panathenaic Festival in Ancient Athens: 103-17. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Barthes, R. 1967 (1983). The Fashion System. Translated by M. Ward and R. Howard. Reprint, New York: Hill and Wang. Beazley, J.D. 1918. Attic Red-figured Vases in American Museums. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Beazley, J.D. 1945. The Brygos Tomb at Capua. AJA 49: 153-8. Beazley, J.D. 1955 (published 1989). Makron. Lecture delivered in Cambridge, August 1955, and in Basle, November 1956. In D.C. Kurtz (ed.) Greek Vases: Lectures by J.D. Beazley: 84-97. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Bérard, C. 2008. Eleusis: Contempler les mystères. In S. Estienne et al. (ed.) Image et religion dans l’antiquité grécoromaine. Actes du Colloque de Rome, 11-13 décembre 2003: 8593. Naples: Centre Jean Bérard. Bowden, H. 2010. Mystery Cults of the Ancient World. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Boyancé, P. 1937. Le culte des Muses chez les philosophes grecs. Paris: E. de Boccard. Boyancé, P. 1962. Sur les mystères d’Éleusis. RÉG 75: 460-82. Bremmer, J.N. 2014. Initiation into the Mysteries of the Ancient World. Berlin: De Gruyter. Brøns, C. 2017. Gods and Garments: Textiles in Greek Sanctuaries in the 7th to the 1st Centuries BC. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Burkert, W. 1985. Greek Religion. Translated by J. Raffan. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.

Parker 1991: 11 writes, ‘The attentive reader of a poem such as this [Homeric Hymn to Demeter] quickly realizes that he is being led through a world of mysteries. . . .’ 47 

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Parker, R. 2005. Polytheism and Society at Athens. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Reprint, 2009. Platt, V. 2011. Facing the Gods: Epiphany and Representation in Graeco-Roman Art, Literature and Religion. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Richardson, N. 1974. The Homeric Hymn to Demeter. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Richardson, N. 2011. The Homeric Hymn to Demeter: Some Central Questions Revisited. In A. Faulkner (ed.) The Homeric Hymns: Interpretive Essays: 44-58. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Robertson, M. 1992. The Art of Vase-Painting in Classical Athens. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Rohde, E. 1898. Psyche: Seelencult und Unsterblichkeitsglaube der Griechen. Leipzig: Mohr. Rudhardt, J. 1978. Concerning The Homeric Hymn to Demeter. Translated by L. Lorch and H.P. Foley. In Foley 1999: 198-211. Scheid, J., and J. Svenbro. 2001. The Craft of Zeus: Myths of Weaving and Fabric. Translated by C. Volk. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Segal, C. 1981. Orality, Repetition and Formulaic Artistry in the Homeric ‘Hymn to Demeter.’ In C. Brillante, M. Cantilena, and C.O. Pavese (ed.) I Poemi Epici Rapsodici Non Omerici e la Tradizione Orale. Atti del Convegno di Venezia 28-30 settembre 1977: 107-62. Padua: Editrice Antenore. Shapiro, H.A. 1989. Art and Cult Under the Tyrants in Athens. Mainz am Rhein: P. von Zabern. Shapiro, H.A. 2013. The Origins of Greek Geographical Personifications. In D. Boschung, T. Greub, and J. Hammerstaedt (ed.) Geographische Kenntnisse und ihre Konkreten Ausformungen: 90-118. Munich: Wilhelm Fink. Simon, E. 1997. Eleusis in Athenian Vase-painting: New Literature and Some Suggestions. In J.H. Oakley, W.D.E. Coulson, and O. Palagia (ed.) Athenian Potters and Painters. The Conference Proceedings: 97-108. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Sourvinou-Inwood, C. 2003. Festival and Mysteries: Aspects of the Eleusinian Cult. In M.B. Cosmopoulos (ed.) Greek Mysteries: The Archaeology and Ritual of Ancient Greek Secret Cults: 25-49. New York: Routledge.

Stansbury-O’Donnell, M.D. 2011. Looking at Greek Art. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Tuck, A.S. 2006. Singing the Rug: Patterned Textiles and the Origins of Indo-European Metrical Poetry. In AJA 110: 539-50. Tuck, A.S. 2009. Stories at the Loom: Patterned Textiles and the Recitation of Myth in Euripides. In Arethusa 42: 151-9. Vickers, M. 1999. Images on Textiles: The Weave of Fifth-Century Athenian Art and Society. Xenia. Konstanz: UVK. von Bothmer, D. 1982. Notes on Makron. In D. Kurtz and B. Sparkes (ed.) The Eye of Greece: Studies in the Art of Athens: 29-52. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Williams, D. 1992. The Brygos Tomb Reassembled and 19thCentury Commerce in Capuan Antiquities. In AJA 96: 617-36. Figure credits Figure 1. Credit: © The Trustees of the British Museum. Figure 2. Credit: Artwork in the public domain; photograph from Adolf Furtwängler and Karl Reichhold, Griechische Vasenmalerei: Auswahl hervorragender Vasenbilder, vol. 3 [Munich: F. Bruckmann, 1932], pl. 161. Photo edited by Matthew Solomon. Figure 3. Credit: bpk Bildagentur / Berlin, Antikensammlung / Johannes Laurentius / Art Resource, NY. Figure 4. Credit: bpk Bildagentur / Berlin, Antikensammlung / Johannes Laurentius / Art Resource, NY. Figure 5. Credit: © The Trustees of the British Museum. Figure 6. Credit: © The Trustees of the British Museum. Figure 7. Credit: Erich Lessing / Art Resource, NY. Figure 8. Credit: Photograph © 2018 Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. Painter: Makron; Potter: Hieron. Drinking cup (skyphos) with the departure and recovery of Helen. Greek, Late Archaic period, about 490-480 BCE. Place of manufacture: Greece, Attica, Athens. Ceramic, red-figure. Height: 8 7/16 in. (21.5 cm.); diameter: 15 3/8 in. (39 cm.); diameter of mouth: 10 15/16 in. (27.8 cm.). Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. Francis Bartlett Donation of 1912. 13.186. Figure 9. Credit: © The Trustees of the British Museum.

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Timagoras: An Athenian Potter to be Rediscovered1 Christine Walter2 incomplete and reconstructed from several fragments, it is recorded under the number CP 10655. As the prefix of this number indicates, it too is from the former Campana collection. The potter of this third hydria is anonymous; the vase is not signed.

This1paper2presents the first phase of a study on the body of work by the potter Timagoras, active in Athens in the second half of the 6th century BC. The study is part of a research programme of the ARSCAN laboratory of Paris-Nanterre University, to promote the study of potters active in Athens and Attica from the 6th to the 4th centuries BC.

The Taleides Painter, to whom about 50 vases are attributed,9 worked with at least two or three potters throughout his career:

The Department of Greek, Etruscan and Roman Antiquities of the Louvre in Paris has two black-figure hydriai3 signed by Timagoras (figures 1 and 2). They are registered under the numbers F 384 and F 395 and also have an older ‘CP’ number (respectively Cp 134 and Cp 131), which indicates they once belonged to the former Campana collection.

• Timagoras, whose signature appears on the two hydriai of the Louvre. • Amasis, a famous potter, whose signature appears on several works.10 The Painter seems to have decorated a lekythos for him, acquired by the Getty museum in 1976.11 According to some, he also signed works on behalf of the potter under the foot,12 although this theory is not accepted by everyone.13 • Lastly, Taleides, from whom the painter takes his name, but who may also be one and the same with the painter.14 Most of the vases, three oinochoai, a lekythos, one loutrophoros and a pyxis are signed by

To my knowledge, these two vases are the only known published works to date recorded in the potter’s body of work.6 John Beazley attributed the decoration of the two hydriai to the Taleides Painter.7 A third hydria, also in the Louvre’s collection, was attributed to the Taleides Painter by François Villard8 (figure 3). Rather

this potter or potter/painter.

The author would like to thank F. Gaultier, Director of the Département des Antiquités grecques, étrusques et romaines in the Louvre Museum and A. Coulié, Curator of the Greek Pottery collection, for giving her permission to study and publish the three Hydriai presented in this paper. 2  Paris, Musée du Louvre. 3  About the shape and use of the hydria, see Fölzer 1906 ; Richter& Milne 1935:11-12 ; Diehl 1964:228-231 ; Veach Noble 1988: chapter 14 (Hydria). 4  Cataloghi [1857 or 1858]:serie IV-VII, n° 14; Gerhard 1859:103, n° 28; De Witte 1865:71; Benndorf 1889: pl. V, 3; Pottier 1901:92-93; Fölzer 1906:80, note 2 and 81, n° 122; Luce 1922:187, n°44; Hoppin 1924:358359; Pottier 1928:730-731; Pottier 1929:42-43, pl. 63, n° 1-4 (III H e); Bloesch 1951:30, n° 9; Beazley1954:188; Beazley 1956 (reissued 1978):174, n° 7; Beazley 1971:72, n°7 ; Brommer 1973:146, n° 6; Carpenter 1989:49, 174.7; Immerwahr 1990:53, note 52, n° 263; Moore 2001: 23, fig. 13; Heesen 2011:96, note 571. 5  Cataloghi [1857 or 1858]:serie IV-VII, n° 1157; Benndorf 1889: pl. V,4; Pottier 1901:92; Fölzer 1906:80, note 2 and 81; Morin 1911:201, fig. 233, n°2, 203, 205, 247, n°7; Hoppin 1924:360-361; Pottier 1928:730731; Pottier 1929:43, pl. 63, n° 5-6, pl. 64, n° 1-3 (III H e); Beazley 1931-1932:22; Beazley1954:188; Beazley 1956 (reissued 1978):174, n°5; Diehl 1964:229, pl. 35,1; Bothmer 1966:202,206, fig. 6; Beazley 1971:72, n° 5; Colafranceschi Cecchetti 1972:28, pl. II, n°146; Moore 1972:68, n°A426,p. 293; Brommer 1973:233, n° 39; Johnston 1979:182, n° 60; Immerwahr 1990:53, note 52, n° 264; Manakidou 1994:251, n°14; Heesen 2011:96, note 571. 6  According to Ernst Pfuhl (Pfuhl 1924:273), an Attic sherd from the Acropolis presented the inscription Τιμαγόρα έποίσεν. But no such sherd could be identified in the photographic Archive of the DAIAthens. He attributed then wrongly an hydria held in Madrid to the potter, now given to the Affecter (Pfuhl 1924:272- 273; Melida 1930:4, pl. 8, n°1, 5, pl. 9 (III H e). About Timagoras as potter, see Beazley 1956 (reissued 1978):174, n°5 and 7; Beazley 1971:73-74; Heesen 2011:96; Beazley 1931-1932:22. 7  Beazley 1931-1932:22. See also Beazley 1956 (reissued 1978):174.5 and 174.7; Beazley 1971:72.5 and 72.7; Carpenter 1989:49, 174.7. 8  About this painter, see Beazley 1954:188; Beazley 1956 (reissued 1978):174, n° 6; Beazley 1971:72, n° 6; Brommer 1973:147, n° 11, 233, 1 

The situation is therefore rather complex. In this paper, I focus on the work of the potter Timagoras and his relationship with his painter, whether he was only a painter or both painter and potter.

n° 41; Carpenter 1989:49, 174, n° 693. 9  Hydriai, amphorae (type B), lekythoi (shouldered), oinochoai (shape I and III), one olpe, one amphoriskos, two Siana cups, six lipcups, two Little Masters cups of not identified Class, one loutrophoros, two pyxis and a lid. See Beazley 1932:171, 193, 197-199 and pl. VII; Haspels 1936:37-38, pl. 13, n° 1 a-d; Bothmer& Milne 1947:226; Beazley 1954:187-188; Beazley 1956 (reissued 1978):174-177; Burn & Glynn 1982:22; Carpenter 1989:49-50; Bothmer 1985:229; Moore & Pease Philippides 1986:42,44, note 11. 10  Twelve signed vases are listed in Moore & Pease Philippides 1986:44, note 11. See also Bothmer 1985. 11  Frel, J. 1983, p. 35. Lekythos fully published by Legakis, B. 1983, p. 73-76, pl. 19-20. See also Amasis 1985, p. 229. 12  Frel 1996:69. 13  Hypothesis refuted by P. Heesen (Heesen 2011:96, note 572) and by H. Mommsen (Mommsen 1997:17-18). 14  Boardman 1978:14, note 16. About Taleides, see Beazley 1932:171, 193, 194 note 36, 195, 197-199 and pl. VII; Bothmer & Milne 1947:221228; Beazley 1954:188; Beazley 1956 (reissued 1978):174.7 and 688; Beazley 1971:72-73; Moore & Pease Philippides 1986:42.

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Figure 1. Louvre Museum, Hydria n° F 38. © Christine Walter The preferred themes of the Taleides Painter are taken from the usual repertoire in Athens in the third quarter of the 6th century. He has a predilection for mythological subjects such as: Heracles and Triton; Heracles and Kyknos; Heracles and the Nemean lion; Theseus and the Minotaur; the Centauromachy; the Assembly of the Gods; Dionysus and his thiasus. But also scenes of daily life with warrior arms; a warrior’s departure by chariot or on horseback; battles between hoplites; scenes of homage to a male elder seated on a diphros; athletes (boxers, runners, discus-throwers); amorous scenes; a funerary scene (lamentations); and in some more miniature decorations, animal friezes in the style of the ‘Little Masters’.

CP 10566 also has a scene with Heracles and Triton on its body (in reverse, figure 3), and the battle between Theseus and the Minotaur is shown on its shoulder. F 38 and F 39 are both signed in black paint on the body, to the left of the main scene from top to bottom, with the same signature: ‘ΤΙΜΑΓΟΡΑΕΠΟΙΕϟΕΝ› (Timagora made it) (figure 5, a and b). These two signatures, simply recorded in 1887 in Wilhelm Klein’s lists,15 sparked a debate in the late 19th and early 20th centuries over the sex of the potter, because of the unusual signature without a final sigma on the name of Timagora. Some scholars, such as Friedrich Hauser,16 went so far as to suggest that the potter was a woman17 who deliberately signed ‘Timagora’ instead of ‘Timagoras’. Others, such as Edmond Pottier, a curator at the Louvre, found it hard to believe that a woman would benefit from the same advantages as a potter who owned his own workshop,18 and that the omission of the sigma was either deliberate or simply a spelling mistake. From 1894, Paul Kretschmer recorded a

The Louvre’s three Hydriai are in line with this iconography. They are decorated with two superimposed scenes, one on the shoulder and the other on the body. The shoulder of vase F 39 depicts the battle between Theseus and the Minotaur painted between two women and four young male nudes (figure 4). On the body, a farewell scene with a chariot, a woman and a young male nude is depicted between two vegetal motifs (figure 2).

Klein 1887:50-51. Hauser 1895:157, note 7. 17  Reported for example by Nicole 1916:384, n°51 and Hoppin 1924:358. 18  Pottier 1928:731 et Pottier 1912:460-466. 15  16 

The shoulder of vase F 38 depicts a scene of homage to a male elder seated on a diphros; Heracles and Triton appear on the body (figure 1).

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Figure 2. Louvre Museum, Hydria n° F 39. © RMN-Grand Palais (musée du Louvre)/Hervé Lewandowski whole series of missing final sigmas in masculine names of the first declension,19 which could have settled the argument. His work was followed up in the 20th century, notably by John Beazley. Beazley noted in 1950 that the missing sigma concerned mainly names ending in ‘-agoras’, backing his claim with several known masculine examples.20 Since then it has been widely accepted that the potter of the two Louvre 19  20 

hydriai was a man; he has since been recorded and cited as ‘Timagoras’. Inscriptions with ‘kalos’  also appear on both of the Louvre hydriai, to the right of the main scene, written from top to bottom: CP 10655 reads: ‘ΤΙΟ[K]LΕΙΔΕϟKALOϟ› (figure 5 c). According to John Beazley, this refers to ‘Timokleides’ but here too a letter (the third) is missing: an ‘M’.

Kretschmer 1894:184-185. Beazley 1950:317.

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hydriai and the Taleides vases, (Timokleides becomes Tiokleides, for example).24 All three hydriai were purchased in 1861 along with a part of the Campana collection and registred in the Louvre Museum in 1863. Two of them are mentioned in the famous Cataloghi del Museo Campana,  even though they were still in Rome around 1857-1858. F 38 and F 39 were on display at the Monte di Piétà, which Campana ran. More specifically, F 38 was in Room A and F 39 in Room D. It is worth noting that the two vases, of the same shape and signed by the same potter, were not displayed together. Depending on the room, works were displayed according to provenance, style, iconography or other. The introductory chapter to Room A in the Cataloghi states that all the vases came from Agylla (or Cerveteri). Unfortunately, researches on other Louvre vases showed that indications of provenance in the Cataloghi are not always reliable, even Figure 3. Louvre Museum, Hydria n° CP 10655 © Christine Walter if Cerveteri is considered the predominant source for Campana vases. Indeed, the marquis excavated there for On F 38, the following inscription appears backwards: several years. But some works were purchased from antique ‘AΝΔΟΚΙΔΕϟKA[L]OϟΔOKEI’21 and, to the bottom right, dealers or other merchants when excavations failed to yield ‘TIMA[Γ]OΡAI’ (‘Andokides is beautiful to Timagoras’) (figure complete series.25 To be safe, ‘Etruria’ should be used to speak 5 d). of the provenance of the hydriai. These inscriptions (signatures and ‘kalos’) all seem to be The third hydria – CP 10566 – is not mentioned in the written by the same hand. There are no spaces between the Cataloghi. It may have been kept in storage at the Villa words, except for ‘Timagorai’ which is separated from the rest Campana in Laterano, according to a copy of the Cataloghi due to a lack of space. ‘Epoiesen’ is used for both signatures. called Consegna Campana,26 which mentions several broken vases and fragments stored there. According to Jiří Frel, the Timagoras signatures are by the hand of the Taleides Painter.22 This is in line with Henry Two of the vases are marked with graffiti that is rather Immerwahr’s broader idea, according to which ‘epoiesen’ common in Etruria. On F 39, ‘TE’ is etched along with a sort of signatures painted in figurative scenes next to other star under the foot.27 On CP 10655, ‘HE’ is etched in the black inscriptions are the work of painters.23 Indeed, the inscriptions paint of the lip.28 of the Timagoras hydriai seem to me very similar to the Taleides signature, for example, on the fragmentary oinochoe from Boston’s MFA 10.210, but also on some of his cups in 24  See also Wright 1896:92-93 (‘ an accented syllabe appears to have the style of the Little Masters. We see the same irregular vanished ‘). On the not Attic origin of Taleides, see Kretschmer 1894:74. flow of letters, the same handwriting, and the same overall About the shift from the long close e toward i that may reflects noneffect. And there are missing letters both on the Timagoras Athenian habits of speech, see Bothmer & Milne 1947:227. Pieter Heesen remarks also some incorrect worddivider (Heesen 2011:97). 25  See Sarti 2001:66. 26  In the German Archaeological Institute’s Library in Rome. 27  Johnston 1979:182, n° 60. 28  Johnston 1979:73, type 10 A, n°1 ; 177, Sl 1, n° 1. Johnston 2006:48, type 10A, n°1 ; 177, SL1, n° 1. According to specialists, it is difficult to interpret ‘HE’, in particular because of the large number of names

Klein 1898:40. Frel 1996:70, note 7. 23  Immerwahr 1984:341. 21  22 

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Figure 4. Louvre Museum, Hydria n° F 39, detail of the shoulder. © RMN-Grand Palais (musée du Louvre)/Hervé Lewandowski.

Figure 5. Louvre Museum, Hydriai n° F 38 and F 39, detail of signatures and ‘kalos’ inscriptions. © Christine Walter

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and it may have been deemed unwise to present the two vases next to each other. CP 10655 also underwent some transformations, but more with a view to completing it. These modifications do not date to the time of Campana but to the years 1983-1984, in the wake of François Villard and Dietrich von Bothmer, who did extensive reconstruction work on black-figure vases at the Louvre. At that time, three fragments were added to the hydria: two in the lower part of the body, beneath the main scene, and the other (a part of the monster’s tail) in the reconstructed portion to the right. Hydriai, vases used to carry water for the living or the dead, have several typological variants.

Figure 6. Louvre Museum, Hydria n° F 39. © Christine Walter

The three Louvre hydriai are of the shouldered  type,33 with a shoulder that detaches itself from the body of the vase. This type of vase appeared in the second quarter of the 6th century and developed in parallel with the round-bodied type, which is slightly older and was popular between 580 and 550.34 It is not known which potter invented the shouldered type, but this type of vase was already being decorated by Kleitias and Lydos between 570 and 550.35 The shouldered vase was particularly popular after 540 and until the early 5th century.

Let’s take a look at the work of Timagoras, his ‘know-how’:

F 39 is in a perfect state of conservation and fully intact.29 The only defects, from the firing process, are found at the back, perhaps due to poor air circulation in the kiln (figure 6). The vase is painted in some areas in an olive colour.

F 39 is rather massive in profile (figure 8):36 the body is wide and still very bulging, the neck is short, handles thick, and it has an echinus foot. The transition between the shoulder and body is smooth (that is, not yet marked by a ridge). It is the decoration of the painter - a thin black transition line - that visually distinguishes the two zones. The lip is articulated and ends in a ring.

Several years ago, F 38 could also be described as being in good condition30 (figure 7). But necessary consolidation work revealed an invasive restoration that probably dates to the time of the marquis Campana. It is known that restorers did not hesitate to fill in the missing parts of vases with fragments from other vases, and that they used glue, plaster and paint liberally to mask fractures.31 The neck and lip of F 38, which are not original, were dismantled in 1977. Indeed, in comparison with F 39, one easily-visible detail cast doubt on the authenticity of this neck and lip: it is 3 cm smaller in diameter.32 In order to be able to insert the neck and lip into the overly-large orifice of the original vase, the Campana restorers added a ring in relief to close the gap. The hydria was therefore displayed in Campana’s day as an intact work,

F 38 has a very similar shape with the exception of the shoulder, which is more oblique (figure 9).37 The foot is slightly higher and there is a hole under it. Could CP 10655 also be the work of Timagoras?

On the hydria and its development, see also Fölzer 1906 and Diehl 1964. 34  Moore 2010:26-27. 35  For example, Louvre F 31 (Lydos). 36  Height (total with vertical handle) : 43,3 cm ; Diameter body (max) : 34,8 cm ; Width with the horizontal handles : 43,6 cm ; Diameter foot (max) : 15,5cm. 37  Preserved Height : 32,4 cm ; Diameter body (max) : 34 cm ; Width formerly with the two horizontal handles : 45 cm ; Diameter foot (max) : 15,4 cm. 33 

beginning with these two letters. 29  Beazley 1931-1932:22: ‘ the chariot hydria, which is in perfect preservation, is an excellent vase’. 30  De Witte 1865:71. 31  Bothmer 1977:213. 32  S 8003 (ex F 38) : Diameter 20,5 cm, Height 11,5 cm. F 39 : Diameter 23,5 cm, Height 9,8 cm.

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Compared with F 39, the typological similarities are obvious: same proportions, same dimensions (figure 10).38 But the mouth is wider and treated differently, and the base of the neck is decorated with a very thin ring relief. Here too a hole was pierced into the bottom. These holes, measuring between 3 and 5 cm in diameter, on F 38 and CP 10655, are commonly found in other vases. Other cases have been reported, for example in two amphorae in Berlin, attributed to Lydos (F1685) and the Andokides Painter (F2159).39 Such holes are also more frequent at the bottom of loutrophoroi, funerary vases par excellence. They have long been interpreted as a way to allow libations, which were poured into vases placed on tombs, to directly reach the ground.40 Could these two hydriai have been used for libations in a necropolis in Etruria? While typology tends to classify hydria CP 10655 in the body of work of Timagoras, the question remains of some technical details, or characteristics of the potter, that have been observed on the three hydriai. Notably: • The turning technique : on F 39, there are fine striations on the outside that are visible in raking light. The same goes for the body of CP 10655 with the exception of the neck, to which less attention was paid. Several grooves are visible there. • The assembly of the different parts of the vases : great care was taken with the handles. On F 39, the marks of a scraping tool used to smooth the fitting is visible. • Less attention was paid to the upper part of the handle, where it is fixed to the lip: unevenly pressed material and the use of a scraper is visible on F 39 (figure 11). The same type of less careful attachment is also found on CP 10655. • Degree of finishes: the bodies are very smooth and wellCP 10655 : preserved Height (without foot) : 39,4 cm ; Diameter body (max) : 34 cm ; Width formerly with the two horizontal handles : 44 cm. 39  Bloesch 1951:30, note 4. 40  Veach Noble 1988:73.

Figure 7. Louvre Museum, Hydria n° F 38. © After BOTHMER, D. von 1966, p. 206

38 

Figure 8. Louvre Museum, Hydria n° F 39, drawing of the profile. © Christine Walter

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polished both inside and outside. For added parts such as the handles of F 39 for example, there are traces of a tool, as if the final touches were carried out quickly. The same goes for F 38. • The roundels of F 39 are concave and smooth; those of CP 10655 seem to be unfinished (figure 12). They were not polished and there are traces of scraping. • Lastly, the firing technique seems to be well-mastered for F 38 and CP 10655, but not for F 39, as mentioned earlier. The technical analysis of CP 10655 is similar in several ways to F 39 and F 38, although it seems less refined in some areas. Concerning the chronology of the three hydriai, Hansjörg Bloesch recalled in 1951 that it had been long recognised that the development of Greek vase shapes evolved regularly, ‘from heavy and plump forms to slender and more elegant ones’.41 If we follow this principle, our three hydriai would likely date to the early stages of the shouldered vase type, with a shoulder/body junction still rather curved and gentle. Many hydriai, for example from the workshop of Andokides, will later become more elongated, and the shoulder/body junction sharper, forming an angle. This angle appears around 530,42 which allows us to date the three Louvre hydriai to before that time.

Figure 9. Louvre Museum, Hydria n° F 38, drawing of the profile. © Christine Walter

F 39 is generally dated to around 540 BC; F 38 and CP 10655 to around 540/530 BC. According to John Beazley, CP 10655 was made between F 39 and F 38, because of the word ‘kalos’ Ti(m)okleides.43 F 38, which also bears a ‘kalos’ inscription relative to Andokides, is linked to this contemporary potter.44 Lastly, F 38 and F 39 seem to be the first hydriai known of the shouldered type to be signed.45 As for the Getty lekythos, signed with the name Amasis and dated to 540/530,46 F 38 and CP 10566 seem to be contemporary with it. At last, according to P. Heesen, the two hydriai signed by Timagoras Bloesch 1951:29. Moore & Pease Philippides 1986:37. Beazley 1954:188 44  Boardman 1978:14, note 16 ; Moore 2001:21. 45  Moore & Pease Philippides 1986:37, note 14. 46  Bothmer 1985:229. 41  42  43 

Figure 10. Louvre Museum, Hydria n° CP 10655, drawing of the profile. © Christine Walter

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Conclusion

would date from the end of the career of the potter-painter Taleides, because of a production of cups (some signed by Taleides as Potter) which can be placed just before the middle of the century and 540/535.47

If we can consider CP 10655 to be the work of the potter Timagoras - known today to have only signed black-figured vases - the second stage of research on his body of work must now begin. Notably: • Studies on the typology and technique of Boston’s MFA 68.105 hydria, to verify if it too could be by his hand. Marion True, who published the vase in CVA Boston in 1978,48 had already likened this hydria, found in Etruria, to the Louvre’s F 39 hydria. • Studies on other vases decorated by the Taleides Painter to track other forms that may have been turned by Timagoras. Amphorae, for example. • Studies on the typology of other hydriai that seem very similar to those of the Louvre, such as the small hydriai by the Zurich Painter (a parallel already made by Pieter Heesen).49 • List of the technical and typological connections (if they exist) between the works of Timagoras and the works of two other potters: Amasis and Taleides. Bibliography Ahlberg-Cornell, G.1984. Herakles and the Sea-Monster in Attic Black-Figure Vase-Painting. In Acta Instituti Atheniensis Regni Sueciae. Göteborg: P. Åström. Bothmer 1985. The Amasis Painter and his World. Vase-Painting in Sixth-Century B.C. Athens. Malibu: The J.Paul Getty Museum. Beazley, J.D. 1931-1932. Mid-Sixth-Century Black-Figure. In The Annual of the British School at Athens 32: 1-22. Beazley, J.D. 1932. Little-Master Cups. In Journal of Hellenic Studies 52: 167-204. Beazley, J.D. 1950. Some inscriptions on Vases V. In American Journal of Archaeology 54: 310-322. Beazley, J.D. 1954. Some inscriptions on vases VI. In American Journal of Archaeology 58: 187-190. Beazley, J.D. 1956 (reissued 1978). Attic Black-Figure Vase-Painters. Oxford: Oxford University Press (reissued New York: Hacker Art Books). Beazley, J.D. 1971. Additions to Attic Black-Figure Vase-Painters and Attic Red-Figure Vase-Painters. Oxford: The Clarendon Press. Benndorf, O. 1889. Wiener Vorgeblaetter für archaeologische Uebungen. Wien: Alfred Hölder. Bloesch, H. 1951. Stout and Slender in the Late Archaic Period. In Journal of Hellenic Studies 71: 29-39. Boardman, J. 1978. Exekias. In American Journal of Archaeology 82: 11-25. Bothmer, D. von, M.J. Milne 1947. The Taleides Amphora. In The Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin 5: 221-228.

Figure 11. Louvre Museum, Hydria n° F 39, detail of the vertical handle. © Christine Walter

Figure 12. Louvre Museum, Hydria n° CP 10655, detail of a roundel . © Christine Walter 47 

Heesen 2011:100.

48  49 

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True, M. 1978, p. 15-16, pl. 75. Heesen, P. 2011, p. 96, note 571.

Christine Walter – Timagoras: an Athenian Potter to be Rediscovered

Bothmer, D. von 1966. Andokides the Potter and the Andokides Painter. In The Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin 24: 201212. Bothmer, D. von 1977. Les vases de la collection Campana. Un exemple de collaboration avec le Metropolitan Museum. In Revue du Louvre et des Musées de France 4 : 213-221. Brommer, F. 1973. Vasenlisten zur griechischen Heldensage. 3. Erweiterte Auflage. Marburg: N.G. Elwert Verlag. Burn, L., R. Glynn 1982. Beazley Addenda. Additional References to ABV, ARV² & Paralipomena. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Carpenter, T.H. 1989. Beazley Addenda. Additional References to ABV, ARV² & Paralipomena. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Cataloghi [1857 or 1858]. Cataloghi del Museo Campana. [Roma : publisher not identified]. Colafranceschi Cecchetti, P. 1972. Decorazione dei costumi nei vasi attici a figure nere. Seminario di Archeologia e Storia dell’Arte greco e romanadell’Università di Roma. Studi Miscellanei 19. De Witte, J.J.A.M. 1865. Etude sur les vases peints. Paris  : aux bureaux de la Gazette des beaux-arts. Diehl, E. 1964. Die Hydria. Formgeschichte und Verwendung im Kult des Altertums. Mainz am Rhein: P. von Zabern. Frel, J. 1983. Three Notes on Attic Black Figure in Malibu. In Greek Vases in The J .Paul Getty Museum. Occasional Papers on Antiquities 1: 35-38. Frel, J. 1996. Quelques inscriptions sur les vases attiques 540500. In Studia Minora Facultatis Philosophicae Universitatis Brunensis N.1: 65-73. Fölzer, E. 1906. Die Hydria: Ein Beitrag Zur Griechische Vasenkunde. Leipzig: E.A. Seemann. Gerhard, E. 1859. II. Griechische Vasenbilder. 1. Campana’s Vasensammlung. In Archäologischer Anzeiger, zur Archäologischen Zeitung, Jahrgang XVII, n° 127, 128, 129: 99110. Hauser, F. 1895. Vasenfunde in München. In Jahrbuch des Kaiserlich Deurschen Archäologischen Instituts X: 151-164. Haspels, C.H.E. 1936. Attic Black-Figured Lekythoi. Paris: De Boccard. Heesen, P. 2011. Athenian Little-Master Cups. Amsterdam: Chairbooks. Hoppin, J.C. 1924. A Handbook of Greek Black-figured Vases. Paris: Edouard Champion. Immerwahr, H.R. 1984. The signatures of Pamphaios. In American Journal of Archaeology 88: 341-352. Immerwahr, H.R. 1990. Attic Script. A Survey. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Johnston, A.W. 1979. Trademarks on Greek Vases. Warminster: Aris and Phillips. Johnston, A.W. 2006. Trademarks on Greek Vases Addenda. Oxford: Aris and Phillips. Klein, W. 1887. Die griechischen Vasen mit Meistersignaturen. Wien: Karl Gerold’s Sohn. Klein, W. 1898. Die griechischen Vasen mit Lieblingsinschriften. Leipzig:Verlag von Veit & Comp. Kretschmer, P. 1894. Die Griechischen Vaseninschriften, ihrer Sprache nach Untersucht. Gütersloh: C. Bertelsmann.

Legakis, B. 1983. A Lekythos Signed by Amasis. In Antike Kunst 26: 73-76, pl. 19-20. Luce, S.B. 1922. Heracles and the old Man of the Sea. In American Journal of Hellenic Studies 26: 174-192. Manakidou, E. 1994. Parastaseis Me Armata. Athens: Ekdoseis Kardamitsa. Melida, J. R. 1930. Corpus Vasorum Antiquorum Musée Archéologique National fascicule 1, Madrid fascicule 1. Madrid: Ruiz Hermanos. Mommsen, H. 1975. Der Affecter. Mainz: Philipp von Zabern. Mommsen, H. 1997. AΜΑΣΙΣ ΜEΠΟΙEΣEΝ: Beobachtungen zum Töpfer Amasis. In Athenian Potters and Painters. The conference Proceedings, edited by John H. Oakley, William D.E. Coulson and Olga Palagia, Oxbow Monograph 67: 1734. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Moore, M.B. 1972. Horses on Black-figured Greek Vases of the Archaic Period. New York: Ann Arbor. Moore, M.B., M. Z. Pease Philippides 1986. The Athenian Agora. Vol. XXIII. Attic Black-figured Pottery, Princeton: American School of Classical Studies at Athens. Moore, M.B. 2001. Andokides and a Curious Attic Black-Figured Amphora. In Metropolitan Museum Journal 36: 15-41. Moore, M.B. 2010. Hephaïstos Goes Home: An Attic Blackfigured Column-krater in the Metropolitan Museum. In Metropolitan Museum Journal 45: 21-54. Morin, J.1911. Le dessin des animaux en Grèce d’après les vases peints. Paris : Henri Laurens. Nicole, G. 1916. Corpus des céramistes grecs. In Revue archéologique t. 4 : 373-412. Pfuhl, E. 1924. Meisterwerke griechischer Zeichnung und Malerei. München : F. Bruckmann. Pottier, E. 1901. Vases antiques du Louvre. Salles E-G. Le style archaïque à figures noires et à figures rouges. Ecole ionienne et attique. Paris: Hachette. Pottier, E. 1912. Etude de céramique grecques. In Gazette des Beaux-arts II : 453-463. Pottier, E. 1928. Musée national du Louvre. Catalogue des vases antiques de terre cuite. Troisième partie : l’Ecole Attique. Paris : Musées Nationaux (2e ed.). Pottier, E. 1929. Corpus Vasorum Antiquorum Musée du Louvre fascicule 6, France fascicule 9. Paris: Champion. Richter, G.M.A., E. Milne 1935. Shapes and Names of Athenian Vases. New-York, Metropolitan Museum: Plantin Press. Sarti, S. 2001. Giovanni Pietro Campana 1808-1880. The man and his collection. BAR International Series 971. Oxford: Archaeopress. Serbeti, E. 2012. Corpus Vasorum Antiquorum, Greece fascicule 12, Athens, National Museum fascicule 6. Athens: Academy of Athens. True, M. 1978. Corpus Vasorum Antiquorum, U.S.A. fascicule 19, Boston, Museum of Fine Arts fascicule 2. Boston: Museum of Fine Arts. Veach Noble, J. 1988. The Techniques of Painted Attic Pottery. London-Thames and Hudson. Wright, J.H. 1896. Five interesting Greek Imperatives. In Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 7: 85-93.

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Revisiting a Plate in the Ashmolean Museum: A New Interpretation1 Marianne Bergeron2 Introduction12

Herakles is depicted breaking off the Deer’s golden antlers (Figure 2).7 The deer on the plate has no antlers. The second interpretation, the Struggle for the Hind, is widely accepted.8 The struggle between Herakles and Apollo for the Hind is unknown from the literary sources but it is closely associated with another well-known struggle, that between Apollo and Herakles over a tripod, which was also a popular scene in Late Archaic and Early Classical art.9

Set prominently on display in the ‘Heroes and Myths’ case in the Ashmolean Museum’s Greece gallery, plate AN1934.333 has been published numerous times but almost only ever in passing.3 Previously, there was some disagreement regarding the subject matter. Is the scene depicting the Capture of the Keryneian Deer or is it a Struggle for the Hind? The caption in the display case prefers the former interpretation but the general consensus seems to favour the latter. The different narrative composition used for scenes of the Capture is different from that for the plate. Yet, the composition on the Oxford plate is equally different from that of the Struggles.

The tripod struggle scene has also been the subject of a number of studies relating to its historical background and composition.10 The conventional composition of the scene consists of four cast members. Herakles and Apollo are locked in a struggle for possession of a tripod. Artemis and Athena frequently appear in supportive roles. Occasionally, other deities including Hermes, Zeus and Poseidon make an appearance.

This present paper will examine the conventional compositions and cast of characters used for scenes related to the Hind and Tripod Struggles and compare them with the ambiguous scene and cast members on the plate. This paper will also take a closer look at Attic black-figure plates and examine their uses based on the contexts in which they were found. My aim is to determine whether the scene on the plate may not more appropriately be classified as a scene of everyday life, perhaps one related to cult activity and initiation rites.

The struggle follows two very distinct schemes. The earliest, known as the tug-of-war or stand-up fight scheme, has the fewest examples. Nonetheless, this composition was established perhaps as early as the late-8th century as found on a bronze tripod leg from Olympia and on a sealstone from Brauron.11 On black-figure pottery, the struggle appears in circa 550 on an Attic pyxis (Figure 3). It is closely followed by a Chalcidian skyphos and two Boeotian kantharoi.12 In these tug-of-war scenes, the tripod is set on the ground in the centre with Herakles and Apollo standing facing each other on either side of the device and each grabs a leg or handle.13 With

The Plate (Part 1) The Oxford plate, dated to circa 550 BC,4 measures 22.8 cm in diameter and is classified as a Type A1 plate according to D. Callipolitis-Feytman’s typology of Attic decorated plates (Figure 1).5 The vase has a wide grooved and flaring rim and a low grooved ring foot. The rim has two suspension holes and is decorated with a simple interlinked lotus flower pattern. The plate is heavily restored with added plaster and parts of the figured decoration are modern. The plate is also burnt. Its provenance is not precise, but is thought to have come from Attica. Beazley attributed it as in the ‘manner of Lydos’.6

de la Genière 1980: 46-48; Schefold 1992: 106-107; Brommer 1986: 23. The capture of the Keryneian Deer or Golden Hind was the objective of one of Herakles’ labours. According to Pseudo-Apollodorus (2.5.3), Herakles shot and captured it with his bow. Diodorus (4.13.1) suggests the use of a net and wearing the animal out. In art, the antlers are frequently emphasised with added white. 8  Beazley 1978: 115 no. 9; Parke and Boardman 1957: 280-281; Carpenter 1991: 44; Shapiro 1990: 123 note 67. 9  Pseudo-Apollodorus: 2.6.2; Hyginus Fabulae 32; Pindar Olympian 9: 43-47; Pausanias: 10.13.7-9. 10  On the historical background: Defradas suggested that the scene represented the growing tensions between the priests of Apollo at Delphi and the Pylian Amphictyony who were in charge of the sanctuary. Defradas 1954: 144. Parke and Boardman argued that the tripod struggle scenes were popular because the scene became symbolic of the First Sacred War in the early-6th century between the Delphic Amphictyony and Krisa (Kirrha). Parke & Boardman 1957: 276-282; Boardman 1978: 231. For other interpretations: Watrous 1982: 166-167; Shapiro 1989: 62-64. On the composition: Luce 1930: 313-333; Brommer 1973: 38-46; von Bothmer 1977: 51-63. 11  Tripod leg (Olympia Archaeological Museum, B 1730); Sealstone (Brauron Museum, 1305). 12  Attic Pyxis in Boston (MFA, 61.1256a-b); Chalcidian Skyphos in Naples (MAN; SA120); Boeotian kantharos fragment in Paris (Louvre, CA 952); Boeotian Kantharos fragments in Tübingen (Eberhard Karls Universität Archäologisches Institut, S101494a). 13  The struggle on the Tübingen fragments differs from other tug-ofwar scenes. Neither Herakles nor Apollo has possession of the tripod although each reaches out for it. 7 

The scene on the plate is interpreted in two ways. The first interpretation, the capture of the Keryneian Deer, is largely now rejected on the basis that the composition of the scene requires the presence of Artemis and not Apollo and I would like to thank the conference organisers for giving me the opportunity to participate in this conference. I would also like to wish Sir Boardman a very Happy 90th. 2  Butler & Levett Curator of Classical Greece, Ashmolean museum, Oxford. 3  Parke and Boardman 1957: 281; Boardman 1972: 57; Carpenter 1991: fig. 74; de la Genière 1980: 46-48; Brommer 1986: 23; Csapo 1993: 10 note 45; Shapiro 1990: 123 note 67; Vickers 1999: no. 10; Schefold 1992: 106-107; Popkin 2012: p. 218 note 43; Venit 1989: 110 note 51; Hoffmann 1988: 146. 4  Unless otherwise stated, all dates are BC. 5  Callipolitis-Feytmans 1974: 116; 319 no. 29; pl. 29 no. 29. 6  Beazley 1956: 115 no. 9. 1 

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Figure 1. AN1934.333 Attic black-figure plate. In the manner of Lydos. Images © Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford the exception of the Chalcidian skyphos, Athena and Artemis have not yet made an appearance.14 Other Attic examples of the tug-of war struggles date slightly later, between 500-475

and in these scenes Herakles is in the process of turning to run with the tripod, but it remains on the ground.15 Neck-amphora in the Vatican (MGEV, 16597); neck-amphora in Leipzig (Antikenmuseum der Universität Leipzig T50;) Lekythos in New York (MMA; 46.129.1); Type-A cup in Düsseldorf, (HetjensMuseum, 1954.8). 15 

On the Chalcidian skyphos, Athena stands behind the tripod and assists Herakles. 14 

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Figure 2. 1843,1103.80 Attic black-figure neck-amphora. Group E. © The Trustees of the British Museum The second scheme, known as the running fight scene, was introduced in circa 530-525, first on either bronze shield straps from Olympia or on the east pediment of the Siphnian Treasury at Delphi (Figure 4).16 The scene then appears on pottery and on temple metopes.17 The running fight scenes

occur at a slightly later phase of the myth. Herakles has already taken possession of the tripod and runs away. Apollo however, is close behind and grabs the device. Herakles looks behind, swinging his club over his head (Figure 5). There are some minor variations involving the direction of movement.18 The composition however, remains the same.

Bronze shield straps from Olympia (Museum, B1915; B983). von Bothmer 1977: 52; Boardman 1978: 229 note 5. 17  Beazley published a Siana cup fragment from Naukratis, dated 570560 now in London (British Museum, 1888,0601.760 + 1886,0401.1056.d). He hesitantly suggested that it may have depicted the Tripod Struggle. Very little of the fragment remains and what 16 

does, suggests that it would be a running fight. The date of the cup is too early for the Tripod Struggle and even more so for the running fight scheme, making this interpretation unlikely. Beazley and Payne: 1929: 259-260. 18  Luce 1930: 313-333; von Bothmer 1977: 51-63.

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Figure 3. 61.1256a-b Attic black-figure pyxis. Group of the Oxford Lid. Photograph © (date of publication) Museum of Fine Arts, Boston The Tripod and Hind Struggles share much in common. The latter follow the same two schemes, the hind merely replaces the tripod as the coveted object.19 They were not however, as popular as the Tripod Struggles.

depiction of the Hind Struggle.20 It is contemporary with the previously mentioned Attic pyxis and slightly earlier than the Chalcidian skyphos and Boeotian kantharoi. The majority of the Hind Struggles date between 525-500 and with the possible exception of one, all are running fight scenes.21

The Plate (Part 2)

There are a number of key differences between the Struggles and the scene on the plate. Just as its interpretation as the

Returning to the Oxford plate and its interpretation, the vase is thought to be a tug-of-war scene and also the earliest

Callipolitis-Feytmans 1974: 116; Parke and Boardman 1957: 280281. 21  Disregarding the plate. Neck-amphora in the Vatican (MGEV, 390). 20 

Boardman offers a possible reason for the substitution. Parke and Boardman 1957: 280-281. 19 

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Figure 4. CG.A.12 Cast of the east pediment of the Siphnian Treasury at Delphi. Images © Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford

Figure 5. AN1965.114 Attic black-figure neck-amphora. Group of Würzburg 199. Images © Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford

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Capture of the Keryneian Deer has been rejected in part on the basis of the conventional composition of the Capture scenes, the composition of the scene on the plate is entirely different from that of the Struggles.

Peisistratos who seized power in Athens and who fashioned himself as the embodiment of the hero.24 On the Oxford plate, the leftmost bearded figure’s identity is made in part on account of the knotted animal skin hanging over his shoulders. The lion skin as an attribute of Herakles appeared first an East Greek vase in the late-7th century and slightly later on Attic vases in the early-6th century.25 In these, Herakles was mainly portrayed wearing the pelt girted at the waist over a chitoniskos and the lion’s head as a helmet.26 The lion’s head is omitted from the Oxford plate, although Herakles is similarly portrayed in a few examples.27 These vases, with the exception of one, are earlier than the plate. In all cases, Herakles is otherwise identifiable through other attributes, the narrative composition or accompanying inscriptions.

In the first instance, the emphasis of the action in the tug-ofwar and running fight scenes is the ‘pulling apart’ actioned by Herakles and Apollo.22 In other words, the emphasis is on the actual struggle. In the tug-of-war scenes, both figures hold the tripod or deer and attempt to pull it out of the other’s grasp. In the running fight scenes, one figure (Herakles) has possession of the coveted object and the other (Apollo) grabs it and attempts to retake it. This ‘pulling apart’ action is entirely absent from the Oxford plate. Neither figure has possession of the deer, nor does either figure attempt to take it from the other. Here, both figures prepare to shoot each other over the deer. This action precedes any capture and subsequent struggle and requires that one figure knows of the other’s intent.

It is also worth pointing out that Herakles, in literature, is not the only Greek hero who wears a lion skin.28 In art, a number of deities wear the lion skin as well.29 On a black-figure amphora in Malibu, Omphale wears the lion skin in the same manner as Herakles.30 Odysseus wears a knotted animal skin on an oinochoe in Oxford.31

The emphasis of the action on the plate is centred on the deer and the female figure behind it. This may be in part attributed to the vessel’s shape. The majority of Tripod and Hind struggles occur on amphorai and lekythoi. These vase shapes provided artists with a natural ground line for their scene. The plate does not offer this same possibility. Here, the artist separated the field of decoration into two and by doing so, created a more triangular or pediment-shaped surface. As on temple pediments, emphasis of the scene is on the central figures where the space allotted is naturally larger than on the edges.23

It is not only gods and heroes who wear a similar pelt. Maenads often wear the nebris but they also frequently wear a knotted leopard skin.32 Others include a farmer tilling his land on a neck-amphora in a private collection;33 a hoplite on a hydria in Boston;34 a hunter on a neck-amphora in Taranto;35 men picking olives from trees in Berlin36 and a woman at a komos.37 Although not all of these figures are specifically wearing the lion skin, their headless pelts are fastened in similar fashion to that on the Oxford plate. The knot is clearly not exclusive to Herakles.

Next is an issue of scale. Both central figures are considerably larger than the figures at the ends. This might remind us of the sculptural arrangements on temple pediments. By making them larger, they naturally attract the viewer’s attention first. This is also emphasised by the two figures at the ends of the scene who are smaller. Admittedly, this difference might not have been the artist’s intent, one might suggest he was simply working with the space available and having begun at the centre, misjudged his working surface. By the direction of the hunters’ stance and the direction of their bows, the viewer’s attention is focussed towards the centre. It seems clear that the scene composition and the emphasis on the deer and the female figure, suggest the possibility of a scene other than a Hind struggle.

Homeric epic also informs us that Herakles was first and foremost an archer.38 During the 7th century, he became On Peisistratos’s tyranny and his association with Herakles, see Boardman 1972: 57-72; Boardman 1975: 1-12; Boardman 1978: 227234; Shapiro 1989: 15-16; 157-163. 25  Melian column-krater in Athens (NM, 354). Cohen 1994: 696. 26  On Herakles’ attributes including the lion skin: Boardman 1990: 184-186. On the manner in which Herakles wears his lion skin: Cohen 1998: 127-139. 27  Neck-amphora in Tarquinia (Museo Nazionale Tarquiniese, RC5564); neck-amphora in Rome (MNEVG, 74989); neck-amphora in Taranto (MAN, 164359); neck-amphora in Berlin (SMB- Schloss Charlottenburg, F1710; neck-amphora in Cerveteri (Museo Nazionale Cerite, 7968); neck-amphora previously on the London Market (Sothebys, BAPD no. 7164). 28  Homer describes how Diomedes wore a similar pelt. (Iliad 10,177178) but he’s never depicted this way in art. Virgil describes Aeneas wearing the pelt (Aeneid 2, 721-722) and Ascanius (9, 306-7) receiving one as a gift. 29  Artemis: dinos in Athens (NMAC; 1.607); Poseidon: neck-amphora in St. Petersburg (State Hermitage Museum, ST221); Athena: hydria in Berlin (SMB - Schloss Charlottenburg, F 1909). 30  J. P. Getty Museum, 77.AE.45. 31  Oinochoe in Oxford (AM, AN1896-1908 G.251). 32  Column-krater in Agrigento ( MAR, C1535); lekythos in Hamburg (Museum für Kunst und Gewerbe, 1909.176); neck-amphora in Compiegne (Musée Vivenel, 989); Type-B amphora in Rome (MNEVG, 772); oinochoe in London (BM, 1864,1007.9); hydria in Paris (Cabinet des Médailles, 157). 33  BAPD no. 14902. 34  MFA, 01.8058. 35  MAN, 114326. 36  SMB -Pergamonmuseum, F1855. The figures have knotted the pelts at the neck and at the waist. 37  Private Collection (St. Louis, Missouri, BAPD no. 303060). 38  Odyssey 8.219-224. 24 

Herakles Why then has the Oxford plate been interpreted in this way? The identification of the scene as a struggle possibly stems in part from the identification of the leftmost figure as Herakles. Herakles was considered the greatest of the Greek heroes and he was worshipped throughout Greece first as a hero and then later as a god. Although early representations of the hero go back as early as the Late Geometric period, it is in the 6th century that his popularity increases substantially and he becomes the most frequently depicted figure in Greek art, in particular, Attic art. This is attributed in part to the Tyrant Woodford 1990: 141-142. Note the exception on one plate fragment in Delphi (Archaeological Museum, 8656). The artist separated the surface of the vase into two. Herakles and Apollo are locked in a running fight for the tripod. Although they are set in the centre of the vase, a palm tree and a basket behind them fill the space above their heads. Dolphins fill the exergue. 22  23 

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Goddess?

increasingly associated in art with the bow and arrow and was most frequently depicted using the Scythian double composite bow.39 In Late Archaic vase painting, he is sometimes even depicted in Scythian garb.40 The manner in which the figure on the plate draws his bow, from the ear rather than from the waist, is consistent with Scythian practice.

The identity of the female figure in the plate is more problematic. The essential characters in the Struggle scenes are Herakles and Apollo. The most frequently included female figures in these scenes are the goddesses Artemis and Athena. But these deities usually appear together, each siding with one of the protagonists.51 As the lone female on the Oxford plate, some identify her as Artemis.52

As is the case with the lion skin however, Herakles is not the only mythological figure who favours the bow and arrow. Artemis and Apollo are both renowned archers and the weapon is included in their list of attributes. Omphale holds a bow on the amphora in Malibu.41 On other vases, non-mythical figures such as young men, hunters, squires and warriors sometimes also hold and use bows and arrows.42 Calydonian Boar Hunt scenes often feature Atalante drawing her bow from the ear, as do Apollo and others.43 Herakles may have been known as an archer, but the weapon was not exclusive to him.

Artemis is perhaps known best as Apollo’s twin sister, goddess of the hunt, mistress of animals and protector of young boys and girls. She has a long history and the manner in which she appears in Archaic Greek art finds parallels in the Bronze Age Near East and in Minoan art. By the 6th century, her attributes included the bow and arrows with her quiver over her shoulder. She frequently wears long garments and her hair is loose. She sometimes wears a polos cap and later carries torches. She is sometimes accompanied by a fawn, an attribute she shares with her brother. She also appears alongside her brother and her mother Leto. It must also be noted that in many instances, her personal attributes are absent thus making her identification often uncertain. The figure on the plate has none of the usual attributes associated with Artemis regardless that she appears alongside a deer and wears her hair loose like Artemis since non-mythical female figures appear in a similar manner.53

The figure on the Oxford plate also wears a sheathed sword at his waist but the all-important club is missing. The club, as an attribute of Herakles, became popular in art in the 560’s.44 Despite the fact that the Herakles is not always depicted carrying the club, the weapon does appear as standard in the Tripod and Hind Struggles.45 Apollo The rightmost figure on the plate is generally identified as Apollo. Certainly, the quiver, bow and arrow might serve here as attributes of the god and in a few examples, Apollo draws his bow in a similar fashion.46 The lack of a beard also points to youthfulness, a manner in which Apollo is most frequently depicted.47 However in black-figure Apollo is usually shown with long or uncut hair.48 Sometimes Apollo wears a nebris but it is very clear that on the plate, the figure wears a panther or leopard skin.49 Other gods, heroes (including Herakles) and mortals are associated with the pardalis, but not Apollo.50

Other scholars prefer to identify the figure on the plate as Athena, the patron goddess of Athens and patron of Herakles.54 Naturally one of the most popular figures in Attic art, Athena is most recognisable from the aegis with a stylised serpent fringe over her peplos and her Attic helmet. By circa 570, Athena appears with her spear and shield. Again, none of these attributes appears on the plate. J. de la Genière suggests a third interpretation: Eris, the goddess of discord. This argument is based on the interpretation of the scene as the Capture for the Keryneian Deer and Eris presides over the dispute.55 Eris, who has no dedicated attributes, is only positively identified when an inscription bearing her name appears alongside her.56 She sometimes has wings but unless otherwise indicated, the figure might also be Nike. De la Genière also dismisses the identification of the figure as Artemis because, being associated with Apollo, Artemis would be standing behind him with her quiver and possibly her polos cap.57

Cohen 1994: 696-700; Brommer 1986: 65. Type-C cup in London (British Museum, 1873,0810.376); Type-B cup in Berlin (SMB- Schloss Charlottenburg, F2293). 41  See infra note 29. 42  Neck-amphora in Munich (Antikensammlungen, 1507); Type-B amphora in Berlin (SMB- Schloss Charlottenburg, F1688); neckamphora in New York (MM, 98.8.13); plate fragment in Athens (NM, 13937A). It must be considered that the bow and arrow were not the favoured weapon of Attic hunters. The early-6th century iconography shows a clear preference for spears. By the end of the century, hunters use swords, shields and rocks and wear helmets and greaves, thus creating a closer connection to warfare. Barringer 2001: 18-21. However, the bow and arrow were used by some, as the archaeological evidence demonstrates. Snodgrass 1967: 82-84. 43  For Apollo: neck-amphora in Hamburg (Museum für Kunst und Gewerbe, 1960.1); neck-amphora in Paris (Louvre, E864); plate fragment in Athens (NMAC, 1.2406). For Atalanta: Dinos in Boston (MFA, 34.212); hydria in Florence (MAE, 3830). 44  Boardman, 1972, p.62. 45  An exception: Berlin, SMB- Schloss Charlottenburg, F2159. 46  See infra note 42. 47  For exceptions: neck-amphora in London (BM, 1843,1103.100.x); Type-A cup in Rome (MNEVG, 775); neck-amphora in Orvieto (MC, 2698). 48  He is described in this way in literature. Hymn to Apollo, 134; 449451; Iliad 20. 35. 49  For Apollo wearing a nebris: column-krater in New York (Metropolitan Museum of Art, 07.286.76); lekythos in Vienna (KM, 753); neck-amphora in Fiesole (Museo Archeologico, BAPD no. 6836); neck-amphora in Compiegne (MV, 974). 50  Pindar describes Jason wrapped in a leopard skin, (Pythian 4.78-85). Dionysos: neck-amphora in London (BM, 1851,0416.4); cup fragments 39  40 

in Athens (NMAC, 1.1632). Charioteer: neck-amphora in Rhodes (Archaeological Museum, 15460). Herakles: Type-A amphora in Orvieto (MC, 78). Warrior: neck-amphora in Boston (MFA, 01.8026). Artemis: Type-B amphora in Madrid (Museo Arqueologico Nacional, 11008). 51  There are some exceptions: stamnos in Paris (Cabinet des Médailles, 251); neck-amphora in Oxford (AM, 1965.114); lekythos in Zurich (Zurich University, 2495); lekythos in New York (MMA, 66.11.4). 52  Callipolitis-Feytmans 1974: 116; Carpenter 1991: fig. 74; Brommer 1986: 23. 53  Eg.: Hydria in Berlin (SMB, F1908); hydria in Rome (MNEVG, 47457); plaque in Athens (NMAC, 2574). 54  Parke and Boardman 1957: 281 note 36; Boardman 1972: 57. 55  de la Genière 1980: 46-48. 56  Little Master cup in Berlin (SMB- Shloss-Charlottenburg, F1775). 57  de la Genière 1980: 46.

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The figure on the Oxford plate has no attributes that confirm or reject her identification as a goddess. Perhaps a tentative identification can be made based on her visible characteristics. She wears a long short-sleeved peplos decorated with large spots and a red wreath on her head. Her hair is long and falls down over her shoulders, suggesting that she may be young. Parallels can be drawn with young women or girls in fountain house scenes from admittedly later black-figure hydriai.58 A mid-6th century hydria in Leipzig shows Thetis (named) and another unnamed female figure. Although armed, both are coiffed and dressed like the figure on the plate.59

The quality of the decoration of these plates is generally mediocre. Many portray scenes from mythology,65 others involve deities in non-narrative compositions66 and several show scenes of everyday life.67 Such a rich collection of themes involving gods, heroes and non-mythical figures reflects the changes that occurred in Attica in the first half of the 6th century on political, artistic, religious and social levels.68 As a vessel deemed appropriate for cult activity (though in what capacity is unclear), the religious processions on some are appropriate for the context within which they were found.69 Though the provenance of the Oxford plate is unknown, the suspension holes in the rim point to the manner in which it was displayed, perhaps in a sanctuary. The scene does not depict a religious procession but the composition is appropriate for cults involving initiation and pre-marital rituals.

Deer A few words must be said regarding the deer on the plate. It has no antlers thereby suggesting that it is either a fawn or an adult female. The lack of a penile sheath further suggests that the animal is female. S. Klinger differentiates fawns from does by their lanky limbs, protruding ears and proportionally larger heads.60 The deer on the plate might then be characterised as an adult female. The faded added white spots and long tail point a fallow deer. Deer are not only attributes of Apollo and Artemis, they frequently appear alongside maenads and by the mid-6th century, they become, alongside boar, typical prey in hunting scenes.61

Women and Deer Several ancient sources make comparisons between young girls and deer and one of the earliest is found in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter:

Swiftly they came to the great palace of their father, and quickly they told their mother              what they saw and heard. And she told them              quickly to go and invite her [Demeter] for whatever wages, no limits,              and they, much as deer or heifers in the hôrâ of spring 175        prance along the meadow, satiating their dispositions as they graze on the grass,              so also they, hitching up the folds of their lovely dresses,            dashed along the rutted roadway, their hair flowing              over their shoulders, looking like crocus blossoms. Homeric Hymn to Demeter Lines 171-178 (Transl. Gregory Nagy)

If the figures on the plate are not Herakles, Apollo and Athena/Artemis/Eris and if the scene on the plate is not a Hind Struggle then who are these figures and what are they doing? To explore this further, it is important first to look at the shape of the vase and its known uses. In general, plates were not common in Attic black-figure. The shape was first introduced by the Corinthians and the Attic version appeared in the 6th century.62 In Attica, the majority of plates were used as dedications in sanctuaries and as offerings in burials. Those from sanctuaries were found almost exclusively in those dedicated to female deities: the Acropolis sanctuaries, the Telesterion at Eleusis and the Artemision at Brauron.63 There is no reason to suppose that plates were specific to the cult of female deities, only that they were considered to be appropriate offerings to these goddesses.

2315); bell-krater in Los Angeles (County Museum, 50.8.40). Wagner 2001: 96; For pinakes: Karoglou 2010. It is unclear whether these plates were also used as receptacles for food. Black-figure plates could not be used for certain types of food as the non-glossed parts of the vase were susceptible to staining and deterioration. CallipolitisFeytmans 1974: 20. Some later black-glossed and a few entirely nonglossed plates were found in dining areas in the Agora, suggesting a dining use for some. Rotrof and Oakley, 1992: no. 251-255. 65  The arming of Achilles (Athens, NM, CC671); Herakles VS Geryon (Athens, NMAC, 1.2424); the judgement of Paris (Delos, AM, G31); Amazonomachy (Bonn, Akademisches Kunstmuseum, 339). 66  Athena stands between Dionysos and Poseidon who are seated (Toronto ROM, 776); possibly Athena alone (Athens NMAC, BAPD no. 8275). 67  Courtship: (Leiden, Rijksmuseum van Oudheden, XVA2); battle scenes: (Previously Konigsberg Museum, F159); Florence (MAE, BAPD no. 300891); warrior taking leave (Athens, NM, 17311); komasts (Florence, MAE, V101C). 68  For a discussion on the changes in narrative art in Athens in the first half of the 6th century, both in terms of subject matter and method of representation, as well as the various factors that influenced these developments: Boardman 1972: 57-72; Shapiro 1989: 1-17; Shapiro 1990: 114-148; Schefold 1992: 305-314. 69  From Eleusis: Archaeological Museum, 124; Archaeological Museum, BAPD no. 9783; From the Acropolis: Athens (Fetiche Tjami, 1959NAK266).

Plates from burials and sanctuaries are usually found broken and burnt. The suspension holes in the rim of some suggest that they were probably hung from sanctuary walls. Some of these plates were decorated on both sides, so perhaps suspended from trees, like plaques.64 Eg.: Hydria in Berlin (SMB, F1908); Compiegne (MV, 1055); London (BM, 1843,1103.17). On young girls in fountain house scenes: ManfriniAragno 1992: 127-148. 59  Antikenmuseum d. Universitat Leipzig, T3327. 60  Klinger 2002: 15. 61  Hydria in Rome (MNEVG BAPD #9029889); Little Master cup in Cambridge (Harvard University Arthur M. Sackler Museum, 1925.30.131); Little Master cup in London (BM, 1891,0806.84.+). 62  On the development of Corinthian plates: Callipolitis-Feytmans 1962: 117-164; Johansen 1923, 34-5; Payne 1931: 280; 297; 312-3; 336; Hopper 1949: 230-1. On the development of Attic black-figure plates: Callipolitis-Feytmans 1974: 15-22, 26. 63  Callipolitis-Feytman’s extensive catalogue includes vases from numerous sanctuaries. Callipolitis-Feytmans 1974; ΠαπαδοπουλουΚανελλοπογλου 1972: 185-302. 64  Amphora of Panathenaic shape in Munich (Antikensammlungen, 58 

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Other ancient sources also describe and even urge young girls to dance just as deer prance.70 More recently, Klinger noted that deer and young women appear together in different types of scenes on black-figure vases as early as circa 530: wedding, running and dancing, water fetching and indoor scenes.71 She later revised her dating to include a Middle Corinthian cup. The cup depicts two young women named Nebris and Kluka. Klinger associates their names with Frauenfest scenes, scenes that are associated with women’s rituals in sanctuaries dedicated to Demeter and Kore at Corinth, Hera at Perachora and Artemis.72 As well, the deer often underscore the young women in the scene and provide emphasis to these characters.73 The running and dancing scenes are of particular importance here as they are associated with initiation rites.

no evidence pertaining to hunting as training for warfare in Athens until the late-4th century, but some information, in particular regarding weaponry, can be gleamed from the hunting scenes involving ephebes on Attic vases that were particularly popular between 560-550.79 A New Interpretation The deer at the centre of the Oxford plate leaps into the air with its hind legs and swings its neck back, much as the deer running and dancing on the krateriskoi.80 The female figure behind the deer moves perhaps in a frenzied manner. Her movements are similar to those of contemporary maenads.81 There is no suggestion that she is a maenad, just that she behaves wildly, much like young unmarried women were thought to be. Perhaps the deer is mimicking her actions like the deer on other vases, thereby emphasising the transition of a young girl into a woman. The presence of the hunters might emphasise a corresponding transition, that of a young ephebe into adulthood. The deer’s movements are also not unlike those of deer in hunting scenes.82 Similar parallels regarding the combination of both types of scenes are drawn with black-figure hydriai depicting young women collecting water from the fountain house and the predella below or the shoulder above consisting of a hunt or battle.83

Several black-figure krateriskoi bearing depictions of young girls running and dancing alongside deer were found in the sanctuary of Artemis at Brauron, at Mounichia in the Pireaus and some from the Brauronion on the Acropolis.74 These vases have exclusively been found in sanctuaries dedicated to Artemis and so are probably ritual vessels.75 Admittedly, these krateriskoi are dated later than the Middle-Corinthian cup and Oxford plate but cult activity at the sanctuary began much earlier in the 8th century. Here, young girls were prepared for marriage and motherhood.76 This rite is known as the Arkteia. It is thought that the iconography on these vases represents various activities that occured during this rite. The deer, as an attribute of Artemis, appropriately indicate her presence in this ritual but as C. Sourvinou-Inwood also points out, they may also serve another function: they reflect the metaphorical association between young girls preparing for marriage and wild animals. Young unmarried girls were considered partly wild.77 They were tamed through marriage. So the running as indicated in the initiation is interpreted as an erotic pursuit. The pursuit and capture of a girl by an ephebe for marriage is closely related to the pursuit and capture of a wild animal by hunters. The girls and the deer on these krateriskoi are fleeing in a ritual hunt.

If, as I suspect, the plate is representative of the all-important transition occurring in the lives of all Athenians, then the vessel, dated to circa 550, bridges the gap between the Middle Corinthian cup and the later Attic metaphorical associations of women and deer. Finally, fighting cocks are representative of the Athenian fighting spirit and the relationship between eromenes and erastes.84 Boardman interprets the fighting cocks on the Oxford plate as a humorous commentary on the main scene: two cocks fighting over a hen while another looks on, as answering Herakles and Apollo’s fight over the deer while Athena looks on.85 The cock is also a well-known symbol for transition and time, night and day, dawn and dusk.86 Perhaps the painter, in an attempt to represent another level of transition, employed a well-known motif that he knew would fit the remaining space.

Of course, initiation rites were not exclusive to girls or young women. Young men also partook in similar rites in preparation for their entrance into manhood. Though the texts are late, it is clear that hunting was essential for an ephebe’s preparation for warfare.78 The literary sources offer Sappho 58; Bacchylides (Ode 13, 83-93); Euripides (Electra, 860-861); Euripides describes fawns dancing to the music of Apollo’s lyre (Alcestis, 582-587); Archilochos compares a girl to a deer when describing her sexual readiness (196a, 42-47). 71  Klinger 2002: 11-41. 72  Middle Corinthian cup in Athens (NMAC, 2574); Klinger 2009: 100107. 73  Klinger 2002: 22. 74  Kahil 1963: 5-29; Kahil 1981: 253-263; Hamilton 1989: 449-472. 75  But note that some similar vases but with a flat base and simple banded decoration were found in Pan’s sanctuary at Eleusis. Kahil 1965: 23. 76  The Arkteia also took place at the sanctuary of Artemis at Mounichia in the Pireaus. Vikela 2008: 87; Kahil 1988: 812. 77  Sourvinou-Inwood 1987: 137-139. The model for wild young girls being tamed is best observed in the myth of Thetis and her numerous transformations from nymph into various shapes in an effort to escape marriage to Peleus. In the end, she transformed back into herself and accepted her fate. Ovid Metamorphoses 11. 221-265; Pseudo- Apollodorus: 3.13.5; Pausanias: 5.18.5 78  For a discussion: Barringer 2001: 10-15. Xenophon Cynegeticus 1.18; 12.1-9; 13.11-15; Aristotle Politics 1.1256b; Xenophon Constitution of the 70 

Lacedaimonians 4.7. 79  Barringer sees a link to the increased popularity of the hunting scenes in circa 560 with the rise of Peisistratos. Barringer 2001: 46. 80  Athens, NMAC, 621a/566a; Athens, Agora Museum P27342. 81  Type-B amphora in Basel (Antikenmuseum und Sammlung Ludwig, BS424.1965); Little Master cup in Munich (Antikensammlungen, 2212); Siana overlap cup in Salonica (Archaeological Museum, T289). 82  Rome MNEVG, BAPD no. 9029889. 83  Klinger and Manfrini-Aragno see the deer’s presence in these scenes as a symbol of the nymphs as well as an sllusion to forests, vegetation, water and fertility, again strongly linked to Artemis. Klinger 2002: 20-22; Manfrini-Aragno 1992: 133. Hydria in the Vatican (MNEVG, 426); hydria in Naples (MAN, SA12); hydria in London (BM, 1867,0508.957). Klinger 2002: 20-22; Manfrini-Aragno 1992: 132-133. 84  Popkin 2012: 216-221; Csapo 2006/2007: 24-25. 85  Boardman 1972: 57. 86  Csapo 2006-2007: 23.

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Conclusion

Bibliography

Attic black-figure plates are rare but the opposite holds true of representations of the Tripod and (to a lesser extent) the Hind Struggles in the mid to late-6th century. The Struggles are united by their narrative composition and emphasis of action. Both differ from the scene on the Oxford plate. What is more, the cast of characters on the plate is ambiguous and none can be positively identified. Contrary to general consensus, the young woman and deer set in the centre should be seen as the protagonists. Deer and women appear together in a variety of genres certainly as early as 530, but allusions to their metaphorical associations go back at least to the early-6th century in art and in literature even earlier.

Barringer, J.M. 2001. The Hunt in Ancient Greece. London: Johns Hopkins University Press. Beazley, J.D. 1956. Attic Black-Figure Vase Painters. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Beazley, J.D. and H.G.G. Payne. 1929. Attic black-figured fragments from Naucratis. In JHS 49. 253–72. Boardman, J. 1972. Herakles, Peisistratos and Sons. In RA. 1: 57-72. Boardman, J. 1978. Herakles Delphi and Kleisthenes of Sikyon. In RA, Nouvelle Série. 2. 227-234. Boardman, J. 1978. Herakles Delphi and Kleisthenes of Sikyon. In RA. 2: 227-234. Boardman, J. 1975. Herakles, Peisistratos and Eleusis. In JHS. 95. 1-12. Boardman, J.1990. Herakles attends other mythological occasions. In Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae V. 183-192. Zurich: Artemis. von Bothmer, D. 1977. The Struggle for the Tripod. In U. Hockmann and A. Krug (eds) Festschrift für Frank Brommer. 51-53. Mainz: Von Zabern. Brommer, F. 1978. Vasenlisten zur griechischen Heldensage. 3rd ed. Marburg: Elwert. Brommer, F. (Translated by Shirley J. Schwarz). 1986. Heracles: The Twelve labors of the hero in ancient art and literature, New Rochelle: NY. Callipolitis-Feytmans, D.1962. Évolution du plat corinthien. In BCH. 96: 117-164. Callipolitis-Feytmans, D. 1974. Les Plats attiques à figures noires, Series: Travaux et mémoires (Ecole francaise d’Athènes); fasc. 19., vol I-II, Paris: Diffusion de Boccard. Carpenter, T.H.1991. Art and Myth in Ancient Greece. London: Thames and Hudson. Cohen, B., 1994. From Bowman to Clubman: Herakles and Olympia. In The Art Bulletin. 76, No. 4: 695-715. Cohen, B. 1998. The Nemean Lion’s Skin in Athenian Art’. In C. Bonnet and C. Jourdain-Annequin (ed) Le bestiaire d’Héraclès : IIIe rencontre héracléenne. Kernos. Supplément 7. 127-139. Liége: Presses universitaires de Liège. Caspo, E. 1993. Deep Ambivalence: Notes on a Greek Cockfight (Part I). In Phoenix. vol. 47. no. 1. 1-28. Csapo, E. 2006/2007. The Cultural Poetics of the Greek Cockfight in AAIA Bulletin. 20-37. Defradas, J. 1954. Les Thêmes de la propagande delphique.  Paris : Les Belles lettres. de la Genière, J. 1980. À propos d’un vase grec du Musée de Lille. In Monuments et mémoires de la Fondation Eugène Piot. 63. 31-62. Hamilton, R. 1989. Alkman and the Athenian Arkteia. In Hesperia. 58. 449-472. Hoffmann, H. 1988. Why did the Greeks need Imagery? An Anthropological approach to the study of Greek vasepainting. In Hephaistos. 9. Bad Bramstedt: Moreland. 143.162.  Hopper, R.J. 1949. Addenda to Necrocorinthia, ABSA. 44. 162257. Johansen, K.F. 1923. Les vases sicyoniens, étude archéologique. Paris: E. Champion. Kahil, L. 1963. Quelques vases du sanctuaire d’Artemis a Brauron. In AntK Beiheft. 1. 5-29. Kahil, L. 1965. Autour De L’Artemis Attique. In Antike Kunst 8. 20-33.

The Oxford plate is special. Its iconography is unique. Perhaps, it was especially commissioned for a dedicatory purpose. It is not the earliest depiction of a Struggle but it might be the earliest Attic representation of a girl’s transition to marriage and motherhood. Abbreviations AM: Ashmolean Museum BAPD: Beazley Archive Pottery Database BM: British Museum KM: Kunsthistorisches Museum MAE: Museo Archeologiuco Etrusco MAN : Museo Archeologico Nazionale MAR : Museo Archeologico Regionale MC: Museo Civico MFA: Museum of Fine Arts MGEV: Museo Gregoriano Etrusco Vaticano MMA: Metropolitan Museum of Art MNEVG: Museo Nazionale Etrusco di Villa Giulia MV: Musée Vivenel NM: National Museum NMAC: National Museum Acropolis Collection ROM: Royal Ontario Museum SMB: Staatliche Museen zu Berlin Primary Sources Archilochos Aristotle, Politics, Book 1 Bacchylides, Ode 13 Diodorus Siculus, Book 4 Euripides, Electra Euripides, Alcestis Homer, Iliad, Books 10, 20 Homer, Odyssey, Books 8, 9 Homeric Hymn to Apollo Homeric Hymn to Demeter Pseudo-Apollodorus, Books 2, 3 Pindar, Olympian 9 Pindar, Pythian 4 Hyginus, Fabulae Pausanias, History of Greece, Books 5, 10 Sappho Xenophon, Constitution of the Lacedaimonians, Book 4 Xenophon, Cynegeticus, Books 1, 12, 13 Virgil, Aeneid, Books 2, 9

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Kahil, L. 1981. Le ‘craterisque’ d’Artemis et le Brauronion de l’Acropole. In Hesperia. 50. 253-263. Kahil Lilly. 1988. Le sanctuaire de Brauron et la religion grecque. In CRAI 4. 799-813. Kallipolitis-Feytmans D. 1955. Pinakia à figures noires. In BCH. 79. 467-477. Kallipolitis-Feytmans D. 1962. Évolution du plat corinthien. In BCH. 86, 117-164. Karoglou, K. 2010. Attic pinakes : votive images in clay. Oxford: Archaeopress. Klinger, S. 2002. On Women with deer: In black-figure vasepainting. In Numismatica e Antichità Classiche. 31. 11.43. Klinger, S. 2009. Women and Deer: from Athens to Corinth and Back. In J.H. Oakley & O. Palagia (eds) Potters and Painters II: 100-107. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Luce, S.B. 1930. Studies of the Exploits of Herakles on Vases. II. The Theft of the Delphic Tripod. In AJA. vol. 34. 3. 313-333. Manfrini-Aragno, I. 1992. Femmes à la fontaine: Réalité et imaginaire. In C. Bron and E. Kassapoglou (eds) L’Image en jeu: de l’antiquité à Paul Klee. 127-148. Lausanne : Institut d’archéologie et d’histoire ancienne, Université de Lausanne. Παπαδοπουλου-Κανελλοπογλου, X 1972. Ανασκαφη  Ν. « Ακροπολεως » Μελανομορφη Κεραμεικη. In Archaiologikon Deltion. Athēnai : Hypourgeio Politismou. 27.1. 185-302. Parke, H.W. and J. Boardman. 1957. The Struggle for the Tripod and the First Sacred War. In JHS. 77, Part 2: 276-282. Payne, H. 1931. Necrocorinthia: a study of Corinthian art in the Archaic Period. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Popkin, M.L.. 2012. Roosters, Columns, and Athena on Early Panathenaic Prize Amphoras: Symbols of a New Athenian

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Identity. In Hesperia: The Journal of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens. 81. No. 2. 207-235. Rotroff, S.I and J.H. Oakley. 1992. Debris from a Public Dining Place in the Athenian Agora. In Hesperia Supplements. 25. Shapiro, H.A. 1989. Art and cult under the tyrants in Athens. Mainz: Zabern. Shapiro, H.A. 1990. Old and New Heroes: Narrative, Composition and Subject in Attic Black-Figure. In CA. 9. no. 1: 114-148. Schefold, K. 1992. Gods and Heroes in Late Archaic Greek Art. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Snodgrass, A.M. 1967. Arms and Armour of the Greek. London: Thames and Hudson Sourvinou-Inwood, C. 1987. ‘A Series of Erotic Pursuits: Images and meaning. In JHS. 107. 131.153. Venit, M. S. 1989. Herakles and the Hydra in Athens in the First Half of the Sixth Century B. C. In Hesperia. 58, No. 1: 99-113. Vickers, M. 1999. Ancient Greek Pottery. Oxford: Ashmolean museum. Vikela, E. 2008. The Worship of Artemis in Attica: Cult places, rites, iconography. In Worshipping Women: Ritual and reality in Classical Athens. New York: Alexander S. Onassis Public Benefit Foundation in collaboration with the National Archaeological Museum, Athens. 79-88. Wagner, C. 2001. The Worship of Athena on the Acropolis: Dedications of Plaques and Plates. In A. Villing and S. Deacy (eds) Athena in the Classical World. 95-104. Leiden: Brill. Watrous, L.V. 1982. The Sculptural Program of the Siphnian Treasury at Delphi. In AJA. 86. no. 2. 159-172. Woodford, S. 1990. Struggle for the Tripod. In Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae V. Zurich: Artemis. 140-142.

The Greek Pottery of the Tagus Estuary1 Ana Margarida Arruda2 and Elisa de Sousa3 Introduction123

teardrop-shaped tongues, with the vertex pointed towards the center.

Greek pottery imports are not particularly abundant on the Western coast of the Iberian Peninsula, especially when compared to the data compiled in other Southern territories, such as Algarve and Lower Alentejo (Arruda 1997, 2006). In this regard, the Tagus estuary is not an exception, despite the intensity of the Iron Age occupation in this area. Nonetheless, it has been possible to detect the presence of Attic imports of the Classical Period (5th and 4th centuries BCE) in some sites, and even of some Corinthian pieces, dating back to the Archaic Period (6th century BCE) (Figure 1).

The existence of two distinct vases of Corinthian production in the Tagus mouth area must be highlighted, particularly since these two pieces correspond to half of the Archaic Period Greek pottery found in what is nowadays the Portuguese territory, which was mostly produced in Corinth. In fact, there are only four fragments from the Archaic Period found in Portugal, one of which is Attic (a floral band cup, type C, from the 1st quarter of the 5th century BCE, recovered in the necropolis of Senhor dos Mártires, in Alcácer do Sal - Arruda 2006: 135), and the other also from the Middle Corinthian (olpe fragment similar to the one from Almaraz, retrieved in Castro Marim – Arruda 2005).

As for the first, they encompass, as we will see later on, black glazed and red figure vases, the morphologies and painters of which conform to the framework of Greek pottery distribution known in Western Iberia during this time, and therefore are easily integrated in broad commercial circuits that reached these peripheral regions. The latter are represented by two fragments found in Almaraz (Almada), a site with a clear Phoenician cultural matrix, which is attested by several archaeological finds unearthed during the archaeological excavations that took place in the area (Barros et alli 1993). Both pieces can be included in what was defined as the Middle Corinthian, dating from the early second quarter of the 6th century (around 575 BCE).

In this context it is important to point out that the Corinthian products are very rare in the Iberian Peninsula in general, and especially so in domestic areas, as is the case with the Portuguese findings. Even so, we should mention the presence of Corinthian arybaloi in Catalonia (Graells 2006), which is not surprising considering its recovery in the Greek colony of Ampurias. Its expansion towards the West seems to have been minor, although this type of aryballos is generally found in southeastern necropoleis such as Els Casetes (Shefton 1982: 354) and Villaricos (Trías 1967: 346, Lam. CXCII), and also in the necropolis of Medellín, in Extremadura (Almagro 2008: 577-578). Its presence in domestic contexts is far rarer, although we may point out the cases of Malaga (Gran-Aymerich 1988: 210-211; Recio Ruiz 1990: 146-147) and Huelva (Cabrera 1988-89; Fernandez Jurado et alli 1991: 75, 79; Rouillard 1991: 139).

The Archaeological Data Archaic Period As we stated earlier, the only two fragments of Greek pottery dating from the Archaic Period were retrieved in Quinta do Almaraz, in Almada (Cardoso 2004; Arruda 2005, 2006) (Figure 2).

The scarcity of Corinthian imports in the Iberian Peninsula has been duly emphasised by P. Rouillard some years ago, having been designated by this researcher as ‘saupoudrage’ (Rouillard 1991: 139). In any case, it is important to point out that, with the exception of Catalonia, under direct influence from Ampurias, the Corinthian pieces were retrieved in sites with a strong orientalising matrix (Villaricos, Málaga, Huelva, Medellín), indicating that their arrival in the West occurred in the framework of the supply of Greek products to the Phoenician colonies of the Gibraltar Strait area. In this vein, we should also highlight the fact that Almaraz and Castro Marim are both sites in which the presence of orientalising communities is strong after the late 8th century BCE.

The first of these artifacts belongs to an olpe or oinochoé which, despite its poor state of conservation, may be included in the OAO Group, an attribution which, despite the temptation of grouping it thus on the grounds of its formal and decorative traits, we nonetheless make with necessary caution. The fragment is decorated according to the canonical syntax of its type, in two panels separated by a glazed line. Its small dimensions only allowed the identification of rosettes of different dimensions through the incisions that define them both in their contour and interior details. The glaze is reddish-brown. The other fragment corresponds to the base of an aryballos with a small but pronounced omphalus, from which radiate

Classic Period Lisbon

This paper was produced in the framework of the research project ‘Fenícios no Estuário do Tejo’ PTDC/EPH-ARQ/4901/2012. 2  UNIARQ (Centro de Arqueologia) e Centro de Estudos Clássicos. Faculdade de Letras, Universidade de Lisboa. a.m.arruda@letras. ulisboa.pt 3  UNIARQ (Centro de Arqueologia). Faculdade de Letras, Universidade de Lisboa. [email protected] 1 

Although Lisbon presents an Early Iron Age occupation with unquestionably Mediterranean characteristics and a strong Phoenician component, evidenced by epigraphic and ceramic testimonia, there is, so far, no record of the presence of

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Figure 1. Location of the Tagus estuary in the Iberian Peninsula and indication of the sites mentioned throughout the text.

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Gryphomachy painter, in which the goodness Hera supports herself on a sceptre, in a scene that reproduces the judgment of Paris (Trías 1967: Lám. CCVI). We should also recall that both painters were included by J. Beazley in the Telos Group (Beazley, ARV, 1984: 1425-1434), dating from the 1st half of the 4th century BCE. The fragment’s internal surface is entirely covered by black glaze. The other fragment we classified as a krater is slightly more preserved (Figure 3 – n.º 4669). To the left appears part of the legs, naked and crossed, of a masculine figure, turned to the left. Some traces applied over the thighs show traces of a cloak perhaps upon which the figure is seated. On the right, a female figure is facing the seated figure. She wears a peplos with kolpos, on which rests her right hand. As it occurs with the previous fragment, the reading of the scene is fairly difficult. Still, we can assume that it represents, once again, a Dionysiac scene, probably with the Figure 2. Greek pottery from the Archaic Period from Quinta do Almaraz. god as the sitting figure and a maenad on his left. The basis of this interpretation rests on the position of the hand over the waist, which according to the Archaic Greek imports. Classical imports, on the other hand, shape of its fingers, also points to a chronology from the 1st are attested in about twenty fragments, almost all of them half of the 4th century BCE. Its integration on Beazley´s Telos unearthed in the Hill of Castelo de São Jorge. Group is also admissible (Beazley, ARV, 1984: 1428-1434). The internal surface of the fragment is also covered by black glaze. Of the several vases retrieved in that area, the large majority are decorated with red figures, and are typologically kylikes. A handle fragment retrieved from the same site was also Unfortunately, they correspond to small fragments, which identified, and it seems to correspond to a column krater (Figure makes it impossible to observe the figures decorating them 3 – n.º 4671). Unfortunately, it cannot be associated with any of both externally and in the inner central medallion, which the fragments above-mentioned, which probably belong to Bellon occasions is limited by reserved lines. Only a few lines of krateres. black glaze appear to limit reserved areas that correspond to palmettes, one of them under the horizontal handle (Figure One other rim fragment belongs to a red figure skyphos (Figure 3 – n.º 4577). It is therefore impossible to classify them with 4 – V2 [21] PL4). On its exterior surface, near the rim, part of a respect to their author or authors, even though an attribution volute is visible; the exterior is entirely covered by black glaze. to the Vienna Group 116 seems admissible. These pieces can The chronology established for similar vases is considerably be dated to the first half of the fourth century BCE. late, from the first half of the 4th century BCE, fitting the dimension and characteristics of the volute, which can be Two of the vases decorated with red figures retrieved in the integrated in the Fat Boy group (ARV2, 1495-1495). The pendent area of the Castle of São Jorge are krateres. On the exterior of rim of a lekanis lid was also recovered in Castelo de São Jorge the smallest fragment, we observe an arm, bent at the elbow (Figure 4 – V2 [27]). Unfortunately, the black glaze that framed level, of a figure holding a staff and turned to the right (Figure the decoration is poorly preserved and we can only glimpse a 3 – n.º 4667). This character wears a white long-sleeved suit, type of decoration documented in Ampurias (Trías, 1969: fig. stained with black glaze spots. The same technic of white CXX and CCXI) and Ullastret (Picazo, 1977: fig. XXI). This shape over-painting was used in the line composed by traces and is rare in the Iberian Peninsula, being represented mostly by its points that appears obliquely to the staff and in the ones lids in the Northeast and Southeast. Recently, the type was also over the shoulder. From the red figure on its right we can identified in Castelo de Moura (Soares, 2017: 187 – fig. 17, n.º only observe a small blur. Its association to any scene is 416) and, as we will see later on, also in Lisbon, in Rua Augusta. virtually impossible: the character can be either masculine or feminine, and can hold a staff or a thyrsus. In any case, Much more difficult to characterise morphologically is it seems necessary to recall that the maenads of Dionysiac a fragment without glaze on the internal surface, which krateres usually exhibit their arms bare, unlike the figure presents, on the exterior, two ovula separated by dots (Figure from the Lisbon fragment, although the application of black 3 – n.º 4666). They were probably part of a band formed glaze spots over the clothing and other elements are common by these elements, under which appears a reserved line. in these type of representations, as it occurs in the krater This band would limit, in the inferior parts of the body, the of Cerro del Minguillar (Ipponuba), attributed to the Tyrsus decorated area of a closed vessel, possibly a pelike or a hydria. Negro painter (Trías 1967: Est. CCXLVIII). These same black glaze spots appear, however, over clothing and long-sleeved Still in the Hill of Castelo de São Jorge, but on an area closer cloaks that cover arms holding staffs in other krateres found to the river, another red figures vessel was unearthed, in Iberia, such as the one in Cerro Real, attributed to Oxford´s

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Figure 3. Greek pottery from the Classical Period from Castelo de São Jorge, Lisbon (excavations directed by A. Gaspar and A. Gomes).

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Figure 4. Greek pottery from the Classical Period from Castelo de São Jorge, Lisbon (excavations directed by S. Guerra).

Figure 5. Greek pottery from the Classical Period from Rua Augusta, Lisbon (excavations directed by M. Ferreira, A. Jorge and R. Ramos). which appears to correspond to a kylix (Pimenta et alli 2005: 321, Figure 10). Once more, the small size of the fragment precludes further considerations, but a dating within the 4th century BCE seems reasonable.

4670). The small dimension of the fragment also hinders the attribution of a specific chronology, although it surely extends from the late 5th century and the mid 4th century BCE. The shape, used to contain and pour liquids (perfume, olive oil, scented oils) is very rare in Portugal, with only one fragment identified in Tavira (Barros 2005: 937, Figure 10, nº 8). They are not generally common in the wider Peninsula, either, however, and in fact are fairly uncommon in the West in general. They appear, however, in the Northeast, namely in Ampúrias (Trías 1967: 216) and Ullastret (Picazo 1977: 118, lám. XXXII), both in black glaze and decorated with red figures. In Andalucia they were identified at Cástulo (Olmos Romera 1979), El Cigarralejo (Cuadrado 1987, Fig. 83.5), Zacatín (Adroher et alli 2016: 17), Albufera (Rubio 1986) and Baza (Presedo 1982, Fig. 71), although in these last two cases the morphology is considerably different when compared to other Iberian findings.

A fragment of a lekanis was retrieved in the Western area of the urban centre, in Rua Augusta. It corresponds to a vertical rim, followed by the typical flap-like ledge, for engaging the lid, with one of the lateral tubular and vertical protusions still visible (Figure 5). The internal surface is entirely covered in black glaze while the exterior is decorated with red figures (probably a palmette). This type of vessel, used to store jewels or cosmetics, was so far unknown in the Portuguese territory, with the exception of the rim fragment recently published from Castelo de Moura (Soares, 2017), and is rare in the Iberian Peninsula, where the type has been documented, but mostly through lids and in funerary contexts. In lightt of this, it makes sense to recall that these lids may have had more than one function, considering they could also have been used as plates. Lekanides fragments were also identified in Catalonia, both in Ullastret (Picazo 1977: 72, Fig. 2, nº 2, Lám. XXI) and in Ampurias (Sanmarti 1988: 124, 126, 128, 132, Fig. 5, 7, 9 e 13).

The black glazed pottery is rarer in Lisbon. Some vases could have been imported still in the final years of the 5th century BCE, such as Cástulo cups, documented both in the Castle of São Jorge (Figure 3 – n.º 4668) and in the NARQ (Núcleo Arqueológico da Rua dos Correeiros) (Arruda 1997; Sousa 2014), but the vast majority reached the Lower Tagus associated with the red figures vases, as is the case of the bolsal.

It is impossible to know if the trumpet-shaped spout, which can be classified as an askos corresponded to a vessel decorated with red figures or rather to a black glaze one (Figure 3 – n.º

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The Cástulo cup is undisputedly the most frequent type imported in the Western Peninsula, being abundant in Portugal, namely in Castro Marim (Arruda 1997), Mértola (Arruda et alli 1998; Barros 2005), Mesas do Castelinho (Estrela 2010), Azougada (Rouillard 1991), Castro Verde (Maia 1986: 36), Fernão Vaz (Beirão e Correia 1991) and Alto do Castelinho da Serra (Gibson et alli 1998).

the vessel, and tells a tale of its own. The fact that one of the signs is Punic should not be seen as strange, since this circumstance has been documented in numerous ensembles of Attic pottery in the far west in the 4th century BCE., the best example of which is the shipwreck of El Sec (Arribas et alli 1987: 605-639), as well as many others such as the ones in Cigarralejo (de Hoz 1984: 14) and Ibiza. These Punic signs etched into Greek pottery, which could be considered as mercantile, have already been interpreted in the context of the distribution of these containers by Punic merchants (de Hoz 1984: 632), and the Lisbon vase is one further argument in favour of this hypothesis.

On the contrary, the bolsal is rarer, although they appear in the necropolis of Senhor dos Mártires, in Alcácer do Sal (Rouillard et alli 1988-89), in Castro Marim (Arruda 1997), in Cerro da Rocha Branca (Gomes et alli 1986: 89) and, as we will see further on, in Cabeço Guião – Cartaxo (Arruda et alli in press). The morphological features of the Lisbon fragment, namely its profile, the external protrusion in the attachment between the body and the base, and the foot´s groove, indicate a chronology from the 1st half of the 4th century BCE, more specifically between 380 and 350 BCE, according to the stratigraphy registered in the Athenian Agora (Sparkes and Talcott 1970: 107-8) and the El Sec shipwreck (Arribas et alli 1987: 333-346). Lisbon´s bolsal (Figure 3 – n.º 4673), like the latest specimens of this type, is entirely covered in black glaze, with the exception of the foot´s inner surface, which is reserved. The base’s interior surface was probably decorated with stamps limited by a guilloche circle, the last of which is still visible.

The Greek pottery of Lisbon can be considered scarce in light of the vast excavated areas with Iron Age levels, but it still presents some characteristics that should be duly emphasized. It is predominantly decorated with red figures and the formal repertoire is vast, including considerably rare shapes, related to the toilette, as is the case of the lekanides and the askos. They can therefore be considered as luxury items reserved for elite users. This scenario is different from the one observed in Southern areas (Arruda 2006: 140), where black glazed vessels dominate the inventories, in roughly 75% of the Greek imports. It appears that the use of Greek vessels in the context of domestic environments, especially as tableware, was considerably limited in Lisbon, and was apparently reserved for a restricted group of ancient Olisipo´s inhabitants.

Finally, we must refer to the fragment of a vessel’s base with stamped decoration on the interior surface, which corresponds roughly with the ‘Taller 3’ of the El Sec shipwreck (Arribas et alli 1987: 207-209). It is composed with blobs framed by a concentric circle, also filled with the same elements (Figure 3 – n.º 4672). Around this circle we can still see one of the 16 or 18 interlaced palmettes that normally appear in this taller. The external side of the base presents reserved concentric circles over the glazed surface, a feature we also observe in El Sec. In this shipwreck, this type of decoration is restricted to Lamboglia 21 or 22 type paterae, and therefore it is possible to assume the Lisbon´s fragment may belong to this type. Furthermore, we can assume thus because this is one of the commonest shapes in both Portugal and Spain.

Almaraz (Almada) A single fragment of Greek classic pottery was retrieved in Quinta do Almaraz. Its small dimension precludes any further comment, although it appears to be black glazed, probably from the first half of the 4th century BCE. Castelo dos Mouros (Sintra) The same observation applies to the small wall fragment of Castelo dos Mouros, in Sintra, recovered in a secondary layer. A chronology from the first half of the 4th century BCE. is also admissible in this case.

The presence of graffiti on the fragment’s exterior should be highlighted.4 The incised markings were made by different hands at different times. The ones in yellow are not grapheme; they seem to intersect one another, in an attempt to reproduce basic geometric figures, and were apparently the last ones to be engraved. Its interpretation is not an easy task, considering they do not fit into what is usually recognized as property marks. Nonetheless, considering that they appear to be the most recent, this explanation alone seems legitimate. The markings in red are thicker and one of them seems to engrave a Punic sign, specifically the letter Beth. It probably corresponds to a merchant’s mark and not a property mark. The ones indicated in blue are isolated and could be cursive letters, although it is not entirely clear. The ones in green, also isolated, most likely correspond to mercantile marks, and probably indicate a value or number, given their disposition. The number of markings on the fragment’s exterior reflects the commercial biography of

Alcáçova de Santarém The Greek pottery retrieved in the almost 200 square meters excavated in Santarém is very scarce, being represented by ten fragments only, nine of which certainly decorated with red figures (Figure 6). Six of these – three rims, one handle and two wall fragments – correspond to kylikes, a group to which the handle fragment could also be attributed, with all due reservations. The composition its decorations is hard to analyse, even though the rims that presents reserved lines drawing volutes, typical of the 4th century BCE., seems to point to the Vienna Group 116. Another two fragments will have been part of red figures krateres. Its small size precludes any stylistic considerations, but it almost certainly belongs to vases from the first half of the 4th century. A fragment of a bottom and stem very likely belongs to a krater as well. The last fragment is unclassifiable.

We thank José Angel Zamora the aid provided in Reading and deciphering these graffiti. 4 

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Figure 6. Greek pottery from the Classical Period from Alcáçova de Santarém (excavations directed by A. M. Arruda). Discussion The first observation that stands out when analysing the ensemble of the Greek pottery in the area of the Tagus Estuary is its scarcity, reflected not only in the number of vessels in itself but also in the number of sites where they have been found. In fact, the Late Iron Age occupation, between the 5th and the 2nd centuries BCE., is dense in this region, but from the twenty five known sites of this period only six have yielded Attic pottery. Of these, almost all of them stand out as important urban areas (Lisboa, Santarém, Chões de Alpompé, Castelo dos Mouros), with the only exception of Cabeço Guião, which is a small rural settlement. This scarcity of Greek pottery does not result from a lack of fieldwork, as is evidenced by the cases of Lisbon and even Santarém, sites were the excavations were prolonged and extensive in area, particularly in the first site. It corresponds in fact, as it seems, to a little explored ‘market’ by the Punic traders that transported these vessels to more peripheral areas, as the graffiti recovered in some shipwrecks, and also in the fragment recovered in Lisbon, seems to indicate. This certain distancing between the Lower Tagus and the Mediterranean centres from the late 6th century BCE. onwards, was already discussed in several works (Arruda 2005; Sousa 2014) and the data indicated by the Greek pottery seems, once more, to confirm it.

Figure 7. Greek pottery from the Classical Period from Cabeço Guião (excavations directed by E. Barradas and C. Batata). Cabeço Guião (Cartaxo) Cabeço Guião is a modest settlement in a rural zone, in which farming and animal husbandry predominated. The excavations undertaken in the site resulted in the retrieval of a rim fragment of a Greek vase (Figure 7), corresponding to a bolsal. Considering its morphological details and the evolution of these vessels in the Athenian Agora (Sparkes and Talcott 1970: 107), it can be admitted that the piece from Cabeço Guião dates back to the last quarter of the 5th century BCE. Indeed, the upper part of the wall describes a simple curve, typical of the 5th century bolsal, instead of the double curvature observable in the 4th century types (ibidem).

Nonetheless, the morphological diversity and the presence of vessels decorated with red figures is somewhat surprising, especially because some shapes are considerably rare in the Iberian Peninsula, particularly in settlements, and some of them, such as the cosmetic vases, were even absent until now from the Portuguese territory. All this seems to point to a directed trade destined for a very reduced elite, who desired to be integrated, albeit inconsistently, in the Mediterranean world.

Chões de Alpompé The two Attic red figures kylikes from Chões de Alpompé were recovered during the excavations carried out in 2015 (Figure 8). The decorated area is reduced, being preserved only on the external surface, enabling no further reading. However, their attribution to the Vienna Group 116 is not unlikely and a date to the first half of the 4th century BCE. is admissible. Another fragment of these productions was recovered during surveys that took place in the 1950s.

This situation contrasts with Southern areas (Arruda 1997, 2006), where Greek ceramics, especially black glazed, are

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Figure 8. Greek pottery from the Classical Period from Chões de Alpompé (excavations directed by A. M. Arruda). a frequent occurrence, showing social and consumption habits compatible with their integration into a Greco-Punic koiné.

Cabrera, P. 1988-89. El comercio foceo en Huelva: cronologia y fisionomia. Huelva Arqueológica 10-11 (3): 41-100. Cardoso, J. L. 2004. A Baixa Estremadura dos Finais do IV milénio a.C. até à chegada dos romanos: um ensaio de história regional. Oeiras: Câmara Municipal. Cuadrado Diaz, E. 1987. La necropolis iberica de ‘El Cigarralejo’ (Mula, Múrcia). Múrcia: Comunidad Autónoma. Estrela, S. 2010. Os níveis fundacionais da Idade do Ferro de Mesas do Castelinho (Almodôvar). Os contextos arqueológicos na (re)construção do povoado. Master thesis (Faculdade de Letras da Universidade de Lisboa). Fernández Jurado, J.; P. Rufete, C. García Sanz 1991.  Cerámicas griegas del solar nº 5 de la C/ M. Núñez de Huelva.  In P. Cabrera, R. Olmos, E. Sanmartí (coords.) (coords.) Iberos y griegos: lecturas desde la diversidade: 67-96. Huelva: Universidad. Gibson, C.; V. H. Correia; C. B. Burgess; S. Boardmann 1998. Alto do Castelinho da Serra (Montemor-o-Novo, Évora, Portugal). A preliminary report on the excavations at the Late Bronze Age to Medieval Site, 1990-1993. Journal of Iberian Archaeology 0: 189-244. Gomes, M. V.; R. V. Gomes and C. M. Beirão (1986). O Cerro da Rocha Branca (Silves) – resultados preliminaries de três campanhas de escavações. In Actas do 4º Congresso do Algarve: 77-83. Silves: Racal Clube. Graells, R. 2006.  El Aryballos corintio de la necrópolis de Milmanda (Vimbodí, Tarragona) y su cronologia. Archivo Español de Arqueología 79: 207-216. Gran Aymerich, J. M. 1988.  Cerámicas griegas y etruscas de Málaga. Excavaciones de 1980 a 1986.  Archivo Español de Arqueología 61: 201-222. De Hoz, J. 1984. Los grafitos de El Cigarralejo y los signos mercantiles griegos en Hispania.  Boletín Informativo de la Asociación Española de Amigos de la Arqueología 19: 11-14. Olmos Romera, R. 1979. Estudio sobre la cerámica ática del estacar de Robarinas (Cástulo, Jaén). In J. M. Blázquez (dir.). Castulo II. Excavaciones Arqueológicas en España (105): 398-404. Madrid: Ministerio de Cultura. Picazo, M.  1977.  La cerámica ática de Ullastret. Barcelona: Instituto de Arqueología y Prehistoria. Pimenta, J.; M. Calado and M. Leitão 2005. Novos dados sobre a ocupação pré-romana da cidade de Lisboa: as ânforas da sondagem n.º 2 da Rua de São João da Praça. Revista Portuguesa de Arqueologia 8-2: 313-334. Presedo Velo, F. 1982. La necrópolis de Baza. Excavaciones Arqueológicas en España (119). Madrid: Ministerio de Cultura. Recio Ruiz, A. 1990. La cerámica fenicio-púnica, griega y etrusca del sondeo de San Agustín (Málaga). Málaga: Monografías.

The relative Hellenization of the Algarve, and even of Alentejo, which manifested in the ways of consuming liquid and solid food does not seem to take place on the west coast, where, nevertheless, Greek pottery is present. Bibliography Adroher Auroux, A.; A. Sánchez Moreno and I. Torre Castellano 2016. Cerámica ática de barniz negro de Iliberri (Granada, España). Análisis crono-estadístico de un context cerrado. Portugália 37: 5-38. Almagro-Gorbea, M. 2008. La necrópolis de Medellín. II. Estudio de los Hallazgos. Madrid: Real Academia de la Historia. Arribas, A.; M. G. Trias; D. Cerdá and J. Hoz 1987. El Barco de El Sec (Costa de Calviá, Mallorca). Estudio de los materiales. Mallorca. Arruda, A. M. 1997. As cerâmicas áticas do Castelo de Castro Marim no quadro das exportações gregas para a Península Ibérica. Lisboa: Edições Colibri. Arruda, A. M. 2005. O 1º milénio a.n.e. no Centro e no Sul de Portugal: leituras possíveis no início de um novo século. O Arqueólogo Português Série IV-23: 9-156. Arruda, A. M. 2006. Cerâmicas gregas encontradas em Portugal. In AAVV, Vasos Gregos em Portugal. Aquém das colunas de Hércules: 135-140. Lisboa: Instituto Português dos Museus e Museu Nacional de Arqueologia. Arruda, A. M.; P. Barros and V. Lopes 1998. Cerâmicas áticas de Mértola. Conímbriga 37: 121-149. Arruda, A. M.; E. Sousa; E. Barradas; C. Batata; C. Detry and R. Soares (in press). O Cabeço Guião (Cartaxo – Portugal): um sítio da Idade do Ferro do vale do Tejo. Barros, L.; J. L. Cardoso and A. Sabrosa (1993) – Fenícios na margem sul do Tejo. Economia e integração cultural do povoado de Almaraz – Almada. Estudos Orientais 4: 143-181. Barros, P. 2005. Cerâmicas áticas no Circuito do Estreito do Extremo-Ocidente Peninsular: Quinta da Queimada, Ilhéu Rosário, Faro e Tavira. In El Período Orientalizante. Actas del III Simposio Internacional de Arqueología de Mérida: Protohistoria del Mediterráneo Occidental: 931-945. Mérida: CSIC. Beazley, J. D. 1984. Attic Red-Figure Vase-Painters. 2nd edition. Oxford. Beirão, C. M. and V. H. Correia 1991. A cronologia do povoado de Fernão Vaz. Conimbriga 30: 5-11.

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Ana Margarida Arruda and Elisa de Sousa – The Greek Pottery of the Tagus Estuary

Rouillard, P. 1991. Les grecs et la Peninsule Iberique du VIIIe au IVe siècle avant Jésus-Christ. Paris. Rouillard, P.; A. C. Paixão; M. C. Villanueva Puig; J. L. Durand 1988-89. Les vases grecques d´Alcácer do Sal. O Arqueólogo Português IV-6/7: 43-108. Rubio Gomis, F. 1986. La necrópolis ibérica de la Albufereta de Alicante (Valencia, España), Valencia. Sanmarti Grego, E. 1988. Datación de la muralla griega meridional de Ampurias y caracterización de la facies cerámica de la ciudad en la primera mitad del siglo IV a. de J.C. Revue des Études Anciennes (REA) X: 99-137. Shefton, B. 1982  Greeks and Greek Imports in the South of the Iberian Peninsula. The Archaeological evidences. Madrider Beiträge 8: 337-368.

Sparkes, B.A. and L. Talcott 1970. Black and plain pottery of the 6th, 5th and 4th centuries B.C. The Athenian Agora. Princeton, New Jersey: American School of Classical Studies at Athens. Vol. XII. Soares, R. 1970. A cerâmica grafitada e o seu context, entre a margem esquerda do Guadiana e a Serra de Aracena. Onoba 5: 171-193. Sousa, E. 2014. A ocupação pré-romana da foz do Estuário do Tejo. Lisboa: Centro de Arqueologia da Universidade de Lisboa. Sousa, E. and Guerra, S. in press. A presença fenícia em Lisboa: novos vestígios descobertos no alto da colina do Castelo de São Jorge. Trías, G. 1967. Cerámicas griegas de la Península Ibérica. Valência.

193

Vases on Vases: An Overview of Approaches Konstantina Tsonaka The iconography of Archaic and Classical Attic pottery includes numerous depictions of vases, both decorated and plain. These fictive vessels provide us with fruitful information not only in terms of shape, typology, material and usage but also of several topics, some of which are about to be discussed here.1 These are: a) the presence and use of vases depicted in various scenes of public and private life, e.g. banquet, komos, women’s world, funerary subjects, religious themes, Dionysian episodes, together with the written sources, b) the preference for specific types of vases in correlation with the shapes they embellish, c) the appearance of certain shapes in relation to the context they are used in, d) the decoration of the depicted vases, e) the temporal relationship between the depicted vase and the vessel on which it appears. This means that besides the cases where the depicted and the real pot occur simultaneously, there are some occasions where the pictorial version of the vase appears before the beginning of its ceramic production in Attic Kerameikos or after the end of its lifespan, f) the correlation between the depicted vase and the one carrying the image in cases where the first replicates quite often in an accurate way - the second. Thus, it functions as a ‘λαλοῦν σύμβολο›, intensifying the content of the image. The ultimate objective is to examine the frequency distribution and the preference for specific types of vases in Attic imagery according to the shapes they embellish and to discuss certain shapes in relation to the context they are used in.

Figure 1. Depictions of kraters in relation to context depicted with over 100 representations.6 The depictions of the column krater begin in the second quarter of 6th c. B.C., a period that coincides with its greatest popularity, mostly in Lydos’ and Louvre F6 Painter’s work.7 The type appears mostly in komos scenes with a total of 69 representations and less often in banquet and Dionysian scenes with 24 and 13 representations, respectively (Figure 1).8 Although the type appears with the same frequency in various contexts both in black and red figure, its representations in red-figured komos scenes are six times more than in the black-figured ones.9 Images of komasts holding a kylix, skyphos and oinochoe around a column krater become more frequent, however, the column krater appears rarely in banquet scenes, often within the context of a young boy (pais) ladling wine with an oinochoe from a column krater.10 Moving to the shape distribution tables of the vases that illustrate the column krater we see that in the black figure

Most of the extant banquet scenes under examination coincide with the heyday of the Attic symposium, i.e. from 530/20 to 480/70 B.C. As expected, the vases that appear both on banquet2 and komos3 scenes are of similar shapes. However, they appear more frequently on komos scenes mainly because between 530/20 and 450 B.C. the extant komos scenes in Attic vase painting outnumber the symposium scenes in general.4 Nevertheless, when it comes to the representations of the kylix we find out that most them appear more frequently on symposium scenes than on komos scenes. Of all four types of the krater – the sympotic vessel par excellence5 - the column krater is the one most often * I am grateful to the members of the Organizing Committee for the privilege of honoring Professor Sir John Boardman with a contribution to this volume. For depictions of vases on vases, see Gericke 1970. Tsonaka 2008 (with older bibliography). For frescoes with representations of vases in Etruscan tombs, see Steingraeber 2006. 2  For the iconography of the Attic symposium, see Topper 2012. For bibliography, see Tsonaka 2008: note 90. 3  For bibliography about komos, see Tsonaka 2008: note 91. 4  For example, in Beazley archive (www.beazley.ox.ac.uk/) the confirmed symposium scenes number around 2669, while the komos scenes around 2908 (last update 17/9/2017). 5  In Theognis’ verse (v. 981), the word κρατήρ replaces the term symposium, see Bergk, T. (ed.) 1915. Poetae Lyrici Graeci II. Leipzig. 203. For the importance of the krater during symposium, see Lissarrague 1990a: 19-46. Lissarrague 1990b: 196. For the placement of the krater during symposium, see Langner 2014: 385-98. 1 

For the corinthian origin of the type, see Bakir 1974. For the shape, see Sparkes - Talcott 1970: 54; Zaphiropoulou, P. 1970; ‘Vases peints du musée de Salonique.’ BCH 94: 380-398; Tiverios 1988: 120 ff.; Moore - Philippides 1986: 23-25, pls 41-46; Σερμπέτη, Ε. 1986. ‘Παρατηρήσεις γύρω από την τεχνοτροπία και τη διακόσμηση ενός αττικού κιονωτού κρατήρα στο Λονδίνο›, ΑΑΑ ΧΙΧ: 119-132. Moore 1997: 20-23; Bloedow, E.F. et al., 1991. An Attic Red-Figured Krater by the Hephaistos Painter, EchosCl, N.S. 10: 229-235. 7  Moore - Philippides 1986, 24; Moore 1987: 21. For Lydos see Tiverios, Μ. 1976. Ο Λυδός και το έργο του : συμβολή στην έρευνα της Αττικής μελανόμορφης αγγειογραφίας. Athens. For Louvre F6 Painter see Tiverios 1988: 94 ff. 8  Tsonaka 2008: 200. 9  For examples, see Tsonaka 2008: 201, note 506. For komasts dancing around the krater, see Gossel-Raeck 1992: 299-302. 10  Hoesch 1992a, 235-237. Tsonaka 2008: 202 ff. 6 

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the type is represented primarily on neck amphoras and on skyphoi, whereas in the red figure most representations are found on kylikes and on column kraters – particularly painted by the Leningrad Painter (Figure 2).11 Of the volute krater12 there are less depictions, mainly on red-figured kylikes and, sporadically, on column-, volute- and calyx kraters13 (Figure 2). The type appears with the same frequency both in Dionysian and in komos - mostly on cups – context, while less often in symposium scenes (Figure 2) .14 Indeed, the earliest representation of the type occurs in a Dionysian episode of the mid-6th c. B.C. to which we shall return. The occasional representations of the volute krater in symposium context appear much later – in the last decade of the 6th c. B.C. -, and are known only in red figure technique (Figure 1).15 The depictions of the calyx krater in Attic vase-painting seem to begin simultaneously with the introduction of the shape in Attic Kerameikos, around 530.16 The use of this vase is associated to some extent, to that of the psykter, since both shapes make their appearance in the repertory of Attic pottery at the last quarter of the 6th c. B.C.17 This correlation is reinforced by the iconography where the psykter – when in use - is usually found along with the calyx krater.18 As it happens with the other three types of the krater, the frequency of the calyx krater depictions in symposium context is also low (Figure 1).19 Similar data can be extracted Tsonaka 2008: 200. For the shape of the volute krater, see Hitzl 1982; Schleiffenbaum 1991; Karousou, S. 1955. ‘Fragments d’un cratère à volutes provenant de la collection Hélène Stathatos.’ BCH 79: 192 ff; Rumpf, A. 1927. Chalkidische Vasen: 123. Berlin - Leipzig; Sparkes – Talcott 1970: 54; Moore - Philippides 1986: 25-26; Kanowski 1984: 69. For the origin of the volute krater, see Tiverios 1988: 130, note 579. For depictions of the volute krater, see Tsonaka 2008: 228 ff. 13  Tsonaka 2008: 229. 14  Tsonaka 2008: 230. 15  Tsonaka 2008: 229. 16  For the origin and development of the shape, see Frank 1987; Frank 1990; Hinkel 1967; Sparkes – Talcott 1970, 54, note 1; Moore Philippides 1986: 26-27; Tiverios 1989: 59 ff.; Moore 1997: 26-30; Huber 2000. For the theory of the ionian origin of the type, see Jacobsthal, P. 1934-36. MetrMusSt 5: 117-121, 133-134, 136. S. also, Bakalakis, G. 1956. Κυπριακά Γράμματα, volume ΚΑ΄ : 185-187. For the use, see von Bothmer, D. 1976. ‘Der Euphronioskrater in New York.’ AA, 486 ff. 17  Drougou, S. 1975. Der Attische Psykter. Würzburg. Some potters who were involved in the production of calyx kraters made also psykters, such as the potters of Pezzino Group, Myson, Euphronios and others. For the catalogue, see Schauenburg, K. 1965. ‘Eine Psykter aus dem umkreis des Andokidesmalers’, JdI 80: 76, note 3. 18  On a black-figured skyphos in Heidelberg, Univ. 279 the psykter is placed inside a lekane, while on the tondo of a red figured cup by the Antiphon Painter in Compiègne, Mus. Viv. 1102 it is placed inside a bell krater. Of course, there are examples, where the wine is being ladled directly from the psykter. For examples, see Tsonaka 2008: 294, esp. 300. 19  Black figured: a) tondo of a cup in Essen, Mus. Folkw. Α 169 painted with the manner of the Andokides Painter / Lyssipides (520 B.C.). Red figured: a) cup by Phintias (ca 510 B.C.) in Malibu, PGM 80.ΑΕ.31, b) cup by the Ambrosios Painter (505-500 B.C.) in Rome, Villa Giulia 50458, c) tondo of a cup by Makron (490 B.C.) in Berkeley, Mus. 8.2184, d) kalpis by the Nikoxenos Painter (500 B.C.) in Kassel, Antikenslg. A Lg 57, where the ivy-wreathed calyx krater is decorated with a running Satyr in silhouette, e) cup by Ieron and Makron (490-480 B.C.) in Florence, Mus. PD 317 / Toronto, priv. coll., f) pelike by the Somzée Painter (430-420 B.C.) in New York, MMA 75.2.27, g) lebes fragment by the Dinos Painter (ca 410 B.C.) in Palermo, Mus., h) calyx krater by the Kadmos Painter (ca 420 B.C.) in Bologna, Mus. Civ. Ρ 303, i) hydria 11  12 

Figure 2. Depictions of kraters in relation to shape for the depiction of both shapes in komos scenes. Komasts with a kyathos in one hand and a kylix or a kantharos in the other ladle wine from a psykter floating inside a calyx krater.20 When the calyx krater is depicted without the psykter, mostly in early red-figure, young komasts holding a skyphos, kylix or oinochoe draw wine directly from the calyx krater.21 When we deal with a symposium scene, there is usually a young boy holding a strainer and an oinochoe standing next to it. The depictions of the bell krater start simultaneously with the first extant ceramic examples, during the last quarter of 6th c. B.C. Despite the popularity of the shape in the last decades of the 5th and throughout the 4th c. B.C., this type is scarcely by the Wedding Procession Painter (350-340 B.C.) in St. Petersburg, Hermitage St 1794, j) bell krater (380-370 B.C.) in Naples, Mus. Naz. Η 2202. 20  Black figured: a) eye-cup in Florence, Mus. Arch, b) oinochoe by Kleisophos and Xenokles (ca 530 B.C.) in Athens, National Archaeological Museum 1045 (CC 691), c) pelike (500/490 B.C.) in Bonn, Akad. Kunstmus. 574, d) pelike by the Theseus Painter in Munich, Antikenslg. 1678. Red figured: a) cup interior by Onesimos (510-500 B.C.) in London, British Museum 1901.7-11.2, b) cup interior by the Colmar Painter (500 B.C.) in Harrow, School Mus. 53, c) cup by the Antiphon Painter in New York, coll. N. Schimmel 91.71.307, d) cup by the Antiphon Painter in Paris, Musée du Louvre S 1321, e) cup by Oltos (515-510 B.C.) in Florence, Mus. ΙΒ 20, f) cup of Type B by Makron (490-480 B.C.) in Bruxelles, Musée Royaux R 264. 21  Tsonaka 2008: 245-6.

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depicted in attic vase painting. Only four red-figured vase paintings denote its use during symposium.22 Because of its non-ceramic origin, the first and earlier version of bell-krater with lugs, which appears in the last quarter of the 6th c. B.C., is related to the wooden vintage vats.23 This might explain the fact that this variation is depicted mostly on vintage scenes.24 It is probable that on these early representations the fictive vessels are thought to be made of wood. Most of its depictions is found on cups (Figure 2). On the tondo of a series of kylikes by the Euergides Painter a youth is depicted inside a bell krater with lugs, a picture which has been interpreted as a vintage scene.25 By the mid-5th c. B.C. this version starts to lose publicity and is displaced by the version with the round, upturned handles, whose production has started since the second quarter of the 5th c. Surprisingly, the representations of bell kraters with lugs both in komos26 and in symposium27 scenes outnumber those of the more common ones with the round upturned handles.

found on various shapes,32 including column kraters,33 during the 6th c. B.C. Another fragment of this vase shows a satyr ladling wine from a volute krater decorated with a chariot and a flying eagle in incision (Figure 4). The handles of the fictive krater are decorated with ivy leaves, which in real volute kraters appear slightly later, by the last quarter of 6th c. The decoration of the rim with incised rosettes finds no parallels on kraters of clay.34 On a fragmentary amphora Type A by the Amasis Painter (ca 540 B.C.) in Samos, a black column krater bears the partially preserved incised image of a satyr advancing toward a sleeping maenad.35 This motif is not yet encountered on the vases of that period and the image on the simulacrum must be the earliest example of its kind (Figure 5).36 Turning to the depictions of the calyx krater, we see that this type seems to be not only the most often embellished type of kraters but of all Attic shapes in general.37 Of interest is the decoration of an Attic red-figured fragmentary krater from the sanctuary of Artemis and Iphigenia at Brauron, Archeological Museum A 56.38 A male figure, probably Apollo, seats at an altar, in front of which lies a figured krateriskos. The decoration of the vase with silhouettes of running young girls reiterates a subject distinctive for this type of vessel and relevant to the cult of Artemis (Figure 6).39 On the contrary, the decoration of the foot finds no parallels in pottery, since the extant ceramic krateriskoi are decorated with horizontal, parallel bands.40 On a symposium scene decorating a redfigured kalpis by the Nikoxenos Painter (500 B.C.) in Kassel, a psykter is floating inside an ivy-wreathed calyx krater decorated with a running Satyr in silhouette looking behind (Figure 7).41 The motif of the running Satyr looking behind is also found on column kraters dating in the first half of the 5th c. B.C.42 and on the interior of cups.43

Turning to iconography, most of the depicted vessels in Archaic and Classical vase-painting are left without decoration. Although it has been argued that the krater is usually depicted without decoration,28 we see that apart from the bell krater, all three types of kraters bear linear or figural decoration when illustrated in komos and symposium scenes, starting from the late second quarter of 6th c. B.C. and onwards. On these scenes, the fictive vessel is thought to be of clay, although the white added color implies another material, probably glass or silver.29 The earliest embellished fictive vessel appears on a fragmentary black-figured column krater by Lydos in Malibu:30 a satyros is pouring wine into a column krater, which bears a lion attacking a bull in incision (Figure 3).31 The motif of the lion or lions attacking a bull is Tsonaka 2008: 297. Sparkes - Talcott 1970: 55. For the earliest bell kraters with lugs, all by the Berlin Painter, see Beazley, J.D. 1911. ‘The Master of the Berlin Amphora.’ JHS 31: 276-95, pl. 10, 2; id., 1974. The Berlin Painter: 11 no. 95-98; CVA Louvre (1) III.I.c pl.6.8; CVA Louvre (2) III.I.c. pl.12.2, 5, 7. For the shape of the bell krater, see Tiverios 1989: 63-64. For the development of the shape, see Richter - Milne 1935: 7-8; Sparkes Talcott 1970, 55; Moore 1997: 31-34; Kanowski 1984: 63-64; CVA San Francisco (1) 44-45 (H. R. W. Smith). 24  a) bell krater by the Kleophrades Painter (480 B.C.) in Basel, Antikenmuseum BS 482, b) column krater by the Orchard Painter (περ. 460 B.C.) in Ferrara, Museo Nazionale T 254, c) column krater by the Orchard Painter (445-435 B.C.) in Rome, Museo Gregoriano Etrusco Vaticano 16505, d) cup in Ostwestfalen, Collection D. J. 25  Tsonaka 2008: 294 ff. 26  On cups by the Euergides Painter: a) Würzburg, Wagner Mus. 473, b) Cambridge, Fitz. Mus. 37.15, c) Leipzig, University Τ 3373, d) Leipzig, Univ. Τ 495 and Freiburg, e) column krater by the Pig Painter (480470 B.C.), coll. E. Borowskie 85 9, f) lekythos by the Bowdoin Painter in Agrigento, Museo Archeologico 21, g) cup near the Triptolemos Painter (ca 500 B.C.) in Leipzig, University Τ 509. For the version with the round handles, cf. cup by Epiketos (510-500 B.C.) in London, British Museum Ε 37. S. also Tsonaka 2008: 267. 27  a) neck amphora by the Berlin Painter (505/500-470/65 B.C.) in Paris, Louvre G 201, b) calyx krater by Polygnotos Group in Tarquinia, Mus. RC 1996, c) cup by the Antiphon Painter (480 B.C.) in Compiègne, Musée Vivenel 1102. 28  Gericke 1970, 102. 29  Cf. a) Athens, National Archaeological Museum 12592, b) Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum 1063 (early 4th B.C.), c) Athens, Acropolis Museum 56ΝΑΚ232. 30  Malibu, Jean Paul Getty Museum L87.ΑΕ.120.2 / L87.AE.120.8. CVA Malibu (1) 56 (A.J. Clark). Kossatz-Deissmann 1991, 131. 31  For the motif of a lion attacking a bull, see Μüller, P. 1978. Löwen und Mischwesen in der archaischen griechischen Kunst: 168 ff., esp. 174 ff. For a brief overview of the theories concerning the influence of 22  23 

the sculptured pediments on Acropolis of the Archaic period on the introduction of the motif in vase-painting, see Oenbrink 1996: 102, note 140. S. also Venit, 2006: 32 ff. 32  For examples, see Oenbrink 1996, 101, note 136. 33  e.g. a) Palermo, Morm. Coll. 141. Giudice, F., Tusa, S. and Tusa, V. 1992. La collezione archeologica del Banco di Sicilia I: 180-1 fig.114-5; II, 76. D6, b) Malibu, PGM 75.ΑΕ.106. Greek Vases in the Jean Paul Getty Museum 6 (2000) 46-48, fig. 1A-C. S. also, P. Μüller op.cit. (note 31) 267 no. 243-245. 34  Usually on early one-piece amphoras. For examples, see Moore Philippides 1986: 100 no. 6 pl. 1, 104 no. 34 pl.5, 115 no.117 pl.13. 35  Vathy, Archaeological Museum Κ 898. For the type, see Caskey, L.D. - Beazley, J.D. 1954. Attic Vase-Paintings in the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston II: 96 no. 1. According to Oenbrink 1996: 105, note 105, the closest iconographic parallel is found on a lekythos by the Diosphos Painter (ca 500 B.C.) in Oxford, Ashmolean Museum 1935.42. 36  The motif of satyrs sneaking up on sleeping maenads is wellknown by a red-figured cup by Makron and other vases, see Caskey - Beazley 1954, op.cit. (note 35) 96 ff. no. 3-22, 24, 27, 29. This motif appears rarely on kraters by the end of the 5th c. B.C., cf. Caskey Beazley 1954, op.cit. (note 35) 97 no. 23, 25-26. S. also Oenbrink 1996: 105; Venit 2006: 35. 37  Tsonaka 2008: 251. 38  Kahil, L. 1963. ‘Quelques vases du sanctuaire d’ Artémis à Brauron,’. In Neue Ausgrabungen in Griechenland. AntK, Beiheft I: 25-6, no. 56, pl. 14, 3. S. also Venit 2006, 34. 39  Kahil 1963, op.cit. (note38) 20-33, pl. 7, 3-4. 40  Kahil 1963, op.cit. (note 38) pl. 7. 41  Antikenslg. no.A Lg 57. For the motif of the running Satyr, see Oenbrink 1996: 103, fig. 18, 107, no. Β2. 42  Lullies, R. 1979. In Berger, E. and Lullies, R. (eds), Antike Kunstwerke aus der Sammlung Ludwig I: 123 ff., no.45. 43  For examples, see Oenbrink 1996: 107, notes 174 and 175.

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On the neck of a red-figured column krater attributed to the Circle of the Karkinos Painter (510/500 B.C.),44 a big volute krater is placed in the middle of a symposium scene. The body of the fictive vessel is decorated with the god Dionysos seated on a diphros holding rhyton and branches.45 The motif of the seated Dionysos is found on various shapes by the mid-6th and early 5th c. as well as in different variations.46 A close parallel is found on a contemporary black-figured column krater (510 B.C.).47 The only difference between the two scenes is that on the Basel krater the god turns his face towards a Satyr, who is also holding a rhyton. Moving to the next shape, as shown by a small number – in total 8 - of well-known vending scenes on pelikai, the pelike was used as a container of oil.48 The few preserved representations of the shape start in the last two decades of the 6 c. and go down to the middle of the 5th c. B.C. The strong correlation between the simulacrum and the bearer of the image is indicated by the fact that the pelikai, even though in a different context such as water supply or domestic use, appear mostly on pelikai.49 However, a different use of what we know about the pelike, that of the banquet vessel, is indicated in a unique, as far as I know, depiction of the shape in a symposium context. Side A of a column krater by a late Mannerist painter (ca 460 B.C.), in Madrid, Museo Arqueolâgico Nacional 1999.99.96, pictures a collection of utensils of symposium (Figure 8).50 These are, from left to right, an olpe, a skyphos, a pelike, a column krater and two skyphoi. The sympotic use of the shape is also reinforced by the iconography of the pelikai themselves – several pelikai dating in the first half of 5th c. B.C. are embellished with young komasts and satyrs holding various drinking vessels.

Melbourne, Christie’s. Oenbrink 1996: 103 fig. 19. For the outdoor symposium, see Kaeser 1992: 306-9. 45  For the motif of the seated Dionysos, see Oenbrink 1996: 106 ff. For the rhyton as attribut of the god Dionysos, see Carpenter, T.H. 1986. Dionysian Imagery in Archaic Greek Art: its Development in Black-figure Vase Painting: 117 ff. 46  Oenbrink 1996: 106-107. 47  Basel, priv. coll. 278. Basel, MuMAG 40 (1969) no.73. 48  Tsonaka 2008: 156 ff. cat. no. ΠΕ2, ΠΕ7, ΠΕ11, ΠΕ12. For vending scenes see Hatzidimitriou 2005. 49  Tsonaka 2008: 164-5, 167 cat. no. ΠΕ1, ΠΕ8, ΠΕ9. 50  Sánchez 2003, 297-8, no. 103. Neils 2004: 31, 116-8, no. 24.

Figure 3. Fragmentary black-figured column krater by Lydos. Malibu, Jean Paul Getty Museum L87.ΑΕ.120.2 / L87.AE.120.8 (from Venit 2006, pl. 7, 1)

44 

Figure 4. Fragmentary black-figured column krater by Lydos. Malibu, Jean Paul Getty Museum L87.ΑΕ.120.2 / L87.AE.120.8 (from Venit 2006, pl. 7, 3)

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Figure 6. Fragmentary krater. Brauron, Archeological Museum A 56 (from Venit 2006, pl. 6, 2) the name of the vase is conventional.55 Among its synonyms, the name ‘krossos’ or ‘krossion’ is already mentioned in tragic poetry for water use.56 In Suda the ‘krossos’ is found as a storage utensil of various liquids - synonym of the hydria as well as an urn.57 In the Hellenistic literature the krossos numbers among the water jars (‘ἀγγεῖα ὑδροφορικὰ›) and shares the same uses with the kalpis.58 In view of the fact that a name in antiquity could describe more than one shape, we could seriously consider the possibility that the krossos is - if not the original name - at least one of the ancient names of

Figure 5. Fragmentary amphora Type A by the Amasis Painter. Vathy, Archaeological Museum Κ 898 (from Venit 2006, pl. 8, 1) In her dissertation on the Attic stamnos, B. Philippaki has pointed out that stamnoi are represented exclusively on stamnoi - widely known as the ‘Lenaia vases’ - dating in the mid-5th c. B.C.51 Indeed, the shape is depicted on a total of 19 stamnoi.52 Still, there is an earlier representation of the shape on a red-figured lekythos attributed to the Circle of the Pan Painter (470 B.C.) in Berlin, Staatl. Mus. 1970.1 (Figure 9). The scene portrays a woman in front of a lion-spout leaning over a vase, which has been previously recognized as a hydria. The woman touches her head with her right hand, while with the left she holds the mouth of the vase. The movement of her right hand is ambiguous since there are no known iconographical parallels.53 As for the left hand, it has been claimed that she touches the vertical hand of the vase if it is indeed a hydria. To my opinion, a resemblance to a stamnos is more probable.54 If it is so, then we have not only the unique so far depiction of the stamnos on a different vasebearer but also an additional iconographical use of the shape - this of a water jar. This pictorial testimony becomes of great importance when associated to the suggestions made by scholars about the original name of the vase. As it is known,

Panofka, T. 1829. Recherches sur les véritables noms des vases grecs, has given first the name stamnos to the shape, which was soon rejected by the scholars. S. Letronne, J. A. 1833. Journal des Savants: 308 ff.; O. Jahn, Beschreibung xci, fn. 626. FR I, 83. On the issue of the nomenclature see also Amyx 1958: 190-195. 56  Aeschylus, Kabeiroi, frgm. 96, 1; Euripides, Ion, 1173; id, Cyclops, 89; id, Hypsipyle frgm. Ι, iv, v. 29. Sophocles, Oedipus at Colonus, 472 and 478, identifies the krater with the krossos. S. also Theognostus, 21, 10. 57  Suda, v. κρωσσός. ἡ ὑδρία, ἀγγεῖον ὑδροφορικόν. Και κρώσσιον ἡ στάμνος. Hesychius identifies the krossos with the hydria, stamnos and lekythos: ‘κρωσσοὶ, ὑδρίαι, στάμνοι, λήκυθοι›. Theognostus 21, 9: ‘Κρώσιον ἡ στάμνος›. Etym M 541, 30: ‘κρωσσός, ὑδρία ἤ τι ἄλλο ἄγγος εἰς τὸ ἐπιχεῖν ὕδωρ›. For the use of krossos as an urn, see Moschos, IV, 34. Pollux, Onomasticon, VIII, 66. Anthologia Palatina VII, 710. IX, 272. Letronne, J.A. 1833. Observations philologiques sur les noms des vases grecs: 11, considers that the name krossos derives from a special dialect used mostly, if not exclusively, by poets. In Plutarch, Aristides, 21 the krossos is mentioned as an oil-container. S. also, Anthologia Graeca I, 50 (Erinna’s epigram II, 1) και Anthologia Graeca I, 188 (Hegesippus’ epigram VI 8). Liddel-Scott v. κρωσσός. RE Suppl. VI (1935)v. κρωσσός 207 [v. Lorentz]. S. also, Tiverios 2005: 389 ff. 58  In Argonautica, Ι 1207, 1234, by Apollonius of Rhodes, Hylas, Hercules’ lover, is using a bronze kalpis to draw water from a fountain. The same episode is mentioned by two other Hellenistic poets, Theocritus, Idylls., ΧΙΙΙ, 46 κ.ε. and Lycophron, Alexandra, 1365, with the difference that a krossos is being used for this purpose and not a kalpis. The use of the kalpis as a water jar is testified also in the fifth hymn to Pallas (v. 47) by Kallimachos, while in a Nikarchos epigram is used for water drawing (Α.Π. ΙΧ 330, 4, Νικάρχου = Ι G-P). For the use of kalpis and krossos in written sources of Hellenistic times, see Μανακίδου, Φ.Π. 2004. ‘Η ονοματοθεσία των αγγείων μέσα από τις γραμματειακές πηγές›. In Δρούγου, Σ., Ζερβουδάκη Η., ΔουλγέρηΙντζεσίλογλου, Α. and Τουράτσογλου, Γ. (eds.), ΣΤ΄ Επιστημονική Συνάντηση για την Ελληνιστική Κεραμική, Βόλος 2000, Πρακτικά. 708 ff. Athens. 55 

Philippaki 1967: xx ff. Philippaki 1967: xviii, note 19. Between the depictions of stamnos mentioned by Philippaki 1967, there is a stamnos fragment by the Villa Giulia Painter in Florence, Museo Archeologico Nazionale 14 Β 6 (ARV² 621.38. CVA Florence (1) III.I.16, pl. 14.6), but there is no depiction of stamnos. S. Tsonaka 2008: 281 ff. 53  For the interpretation see CVA Berlin (8) 14-15, Beil. 2.2, pl.2.5-6, 3.1.4, where there are three hermeneutic possibilities: a) the woman has just left the ‘hydria’ on the ground and tides her hair, b) the woman tides her hair to place the vessel on the top of her head, c) she is looking for the ‘tyle’, the pad for the protection of the head. On the back of her left shoulder, an unidentified object can be detected, though not a ‘tyle’. 54  Let us note the similarities between our vase and the stamnos depicted on a stamnos in Adolphseck, Schloss Fasanerie 40, attributed to the Eupolis Painter (460 B.C.). CVA Adolphseck (1) 20, fig. 3-6, pl. 30.1-2; Tsonaka 2008: 287. 51  52 

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Figure 7. Kalpis by the Nikoxenos Painter in Kassel, Antikenslg. A Lg 57 (from Venit 2006, pl. 5, 6)

Figure 8. Column krater by a late Mannerist painter. Madrid, Museo Arqueolâgico Nacional 1999.99.96 (from Sánchez 2003, 297-8, no. 103). the vase that we now call stamnos,59 a case which is further strengthened by the vase painting discussed above.

symposium scenes, the kylix appears simultaneously with its introduction in Attic Kerameikos, around 580-570 B.C..61 In early depictions, the vase is represented on tables or hanging

Even though kylix as a drinking cup is more popular than the skyphos, its representations in komos scenes, starting by 530 B.C., don’t exceed those of skyphos, which appear slightly after the middle of 6th c. B.C..60 Turning to the

is the most popular drinking cup in komos vase-paintings. But as it turns out from iconography, more common is the depiction of the kotyle. S. Tiverios, Μ. 2006. ‘Η αθανασία του Μέμνονος›. In Κούντουρα, Ε. et al. (eds), Χρύσανθος Χρήστου, αφιέρωμα: 117, note 3 (with bibliography). Thessaloniki. 61  For the shape of kylix, see Bloesch 1940. For depictions of kylix, see Tsonaka, 2008: 430 ff.

For the possibility that the krossos (κρωσσός) is the real name of stamnos, see also Tiverios 2005: 389 ff. 60  Tsonaka 2008: 465 ff. Scheibler 2000: 27, observes that the skyphos 59 

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favorable drinking-cups, mostly after 520 B.C. in vasepaintings picturing the kottabos game.64 In some cases, specific types of kylikes can be recognized. On a black-figured stamnos by the Michigan Painter (ca 500 B.C.) in Los Angeles, County Museum 50.8.2 (Α 5933.50-8), a komast is holding an incised eye-cup.65 On a red-figured kylix by the Antiphon Painter (490 B.C.) in Munich, Antikensammlung 2635, one of the symposiasts is holding a kylix, whose rim, handles and foot are painted black. It has been argued that this decoration resembles the earlier kylikes of Type Gordion of the mid-6th c. B.C. or the following banded ones.66 However, this way of decoration is found on subsequent types of kylikes, such as on kylikes painted by the Theseus Painter.67 The kylikes of Type Acrocup with shallow body are depicted on a symposium scene of a cup by the Foundry Painter in Boston, MFA 01.8034.68 The same type appears on a cup in London, BM E 49 by Douris, who favored the depiction of kylix.69 There the participants drink also from Acrocups, however the distinctive plastic ring at the junction of the foot to the body is missing. On what skyphos concerned, the few black-figured depictions of the vase start around 570-560 B.C.70 In red-figure vasepainting the shape becomes very popular. Notable is that the skyphos, when painted, is usually found within religious episodes. Two kylikes attributed to Makron (490/80 B.C.) are decorated with dancing Maenads.71 One of them holds a skyphos painted with a dancing (?) Satyr in silhouette set between two painted palmettes. Both the shape and the decoration of the depicted vase point to earlier types of skyphoi dating in the late 6th c. B.C. The decoration of the rim of the Berlin skyphos with inverted ivy leaves has been recognized as a reminiscent of the Heron-Class skyphoi.72 On a fragmentary cup attributed to the Würzburg 487 Painter a symposiast holds a black skyphos of type A with a reserved band between the handles.73 The decoration of the vase recalls similar examples from the Athenian Agora ranging from the sub-geometric period to the end of the 5th c. B.C.74 Although the kantharos never enjoyed great popularity among Athenian potters, there is an abundant number of depictions of the shape in Attic imagery, which begin Hoesch 1992b: 272-75. Csapo, E. – Miller, M. 1991. ‘The kottabostoast and an inscribed red-figured cup.’ Hesperia 60: 367-82. For examples in Attic vase-painting, see Tsonaka 2008: 436. 65  CVA Los Angeles (1) 16-18, pl. 14.1-4, 15.1-4. 66  Oenbrink 1996: 127-128. 67  Cf. cup of the Theseus Painter in Heidelberg, Antikenmuseum und Abgusssammlung des Archäologischen Instituts der Universität S 99. Fritzilas, S. 2006. Ο Ζωγράφος του Θησέα. Η Αττική Αγγειογραφία στην εποχή της νεοσύστατης Αθηναϊκής Δημοκρατίας: 196, cat. no. 372 pl. 112.372 fig. 114. Athens. 68  Boston, Museum of Fine Arts 01.8034. About Acrocup cup, see Bloesch 1940. 141-144. Beazley, J.D. 1940. Potter and Painter: 22-23, 6667. 69  London, British Museum E49. Buitron-Oliver, D.M. 1995. Douris. A Master-Painter of Athenian Red-Figure Vases: 78 no. 96, pl. 62. Mainz. 70  For depictions of skyphos, see Tsonaka 2008: 465 ff. 71  a) Centre Island, N.Y, priv. coll. Kunisch, N. 1997. Makron: 198 no. 348, pl. 118, b) Berlin, Staatliche Museen F 2290 + Villa Giulia without no. Kunisch, N. 1997. Makron: 197-8, no. 345, pl. 117. 72  Scheibler 2000: 18, note 8; Moore – Philippides 1986: no. 1532 (P 23333), pl. 103. 73  Amsterdam, Allard Pierson Museum 2290+2291. 74  Cf. Sparkes - Talcott 1970: 87, pl. 17.374. 64 

Figure 9. Lekythos attributed to the Circle of the Pan Painter. Berlin, Staatl. Mus. 1970.1 (from CVA Berlin, Antikenmuseum 8, 14-15, Beil. 2.2, pl.2.5-6, 3.1.4) on the wall,62 while from 530/520 B.C. the participants in the symposium are represented with kylikes in their hands.63 In red-figure representations, the kylix is one of the most Cf. black-figured column krater (580-570 B.C.) in Paris, Louvre Ε 623, with depictions of Sianna cups. The same type of cup is placed on tables in symposium context on two Sianna cups (560-550 B.C.) by the Heidelberg Painter, the first in Taranto, Mus. Naz. 110339 and the second in Pesaro, Moccia coll. 63  Cf. volute krater (525-500 B.C.) in Moscow, Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts M-1266. 62 

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shortly after its introduction, around 585-580 B.C.75 On symposium scenes, starting by the last quarter of 6th c. B.C., the kantharos becomes the favorite drinking cup of god Dionysos, while less often the god holds a kylix or a skyphos.76 From the rest of the Olympian gods, only Athena holds a kantharos in a unique depiction. On side A of a black-figured fragmentary psykter by the Toronto 305 Group (510 B.C.) in Leipzig, Univ. Τ 4217, Hercules, Athena, Hermes and Dionysos are engaged in a symposium. The three of them - Hercules, Athena, Dionysos - hold kantharos, but the kantharos of the goddess is of Type C. Here the fictive vessel antedates the real pot, since the production of the type starts from the early 5th c. and onwards. Another two similar examples where the depicted kantharos predate the ceramic examples are found on side B of a black-figured eye-cup attributed to the Walters Group 48.42 (520-510 B.C.) in Dallas, MFA 1972.5,77 and on the tondo of a red-figured kylix by the Epidromos Painter (510-500 B.C.) in Berlin, Staatl. Mus. 3232.78 On both representations, Hercules is holding a kantharos of Type C. Besides kantharos, some types of oinochoe are depicted shortly before the preserved ceramic examples.79 The earliest depiction of oinochoe Type 5b, whose production started in the second quarter of 5th c., is found on Figure 10. Neck-amphora by the Munich 1410 Painter. New York, ΜΜΑ 98.8.14 (G.R. 533) side B of a red-figured kylix by Python (from CVA New York, Metropolitan Museum of Art 4, 16-18, pl. 20.1-4) and Epiktetos (510 B.C.) in London, Brit. Mus. Ε 38.80 Although the foot of the depicted oinochoe is not preserved, it is rather identifiable 10 pouring wine into the kylix of a warrior (Figure 10).82 This with an oinochoe Type 5b. Another example is found on earlier depiction of the type is of interest, since the preserved a red-figured kylix fragment attributed to the Euergides ceramic examples of the type are very few and begin in the Painter (520-510 B.C.) in Boston, MFA 10.214, where a young end of 6th c. B.C. man holding an oinochoe probably of Type 5a is leaning over a lekane next to a louterion.81 The production of this type The Attic imagery of Archaic and Classical periods includes lasts from the first quarter of 5th c. to 410 B.C., therefore the thousands of more depictions of vases, whether as an fictive vessel mentioned here precedes the real pot. Finally, a embedded part of a larger episode or occasionally the main departure scene on Side A of a black-figured neck-amphora decorative scene. Their presence and use in various scenes by the Munich 1410 Painter (ca 520 B.C.) in New York, ΜΜΑ of public and private life, some of which were mentioned 98.8.14 (G.R. 533), pictures a woman with an oinochoe Type in this paper, help us to understand both the context in which they were used and the whole meaning of the image. Furthermore, it provides us with fruitful information in terms 75  of the simulacrum itself. The frequency distribution of the For the shape, see Richter - Milne 1935: 25, figs 167-169. For depictions of the shape, Tsonaka 2008: 379 ff., esp. 383 ff. fictive vessels in Attic imagery according to the shapes they 76  Tsonaka 2008: 413 ff. embellish reveals a strong correlation between the depicted 77  Shapiro, H. (ed.) 1981. Art, Myth and Culture, Greek Vases from Southern vase and the one carrying the image in cases where the first Collections: 75, no.28. Tulane. 78  reiterates the second, intensifying the content of the image. CVA Berlin, Antiquarium 2, 19, figs.3-4, pls. 63.1-2, 66.1; CVA Berlin, But even when it does not, there is still a preference to similar Antiquarium 3, 19, pl. 124.3.7. 79  For depictions of oenochoe in Attic vase-painting, see Tsonaka utensils as carriers of the image. 2008: 306 ff. 80  ARV² 72.16, 1623. Para 328. Addenda² 167. 81  ARV² 94.103. Caskey, L. and Beazley, J.D. 1931-63. Attic Vase Paintings in The Museum of Fine Arts, Boston: pl. 3.12.

ABV 311.6, 693. Addenda² 84. CVA New York, Metropolitan Museum of Art 4, 16-18, pl. 20.1-4. 82 

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Τσονάκα, Κ. 2008. Χρήσεις αττικών αγγείων κατά τους αρχαϊκούς και κλασικούς χρόνους με βάση την εικονογραφική και γραπτή παράδοση (unpublished thesis, Aristotle University of Thessaloniki). Thessaloniki. Topper, K. 2012. The imagery of the Athenian symposium. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Tsingarida, A. 2009 (ed.), Shapes and Uses of Greek vases (7th – 4th centuries B.C.). Proceedings of the Symposium held at the Université Libre de Bruxelles, 27-29 April 2006. Bruxelles: CReA-Patrimoine. Venit, M.S. 2006. ‘Point and Counterpoint. Painted Vases on Attic Painted Vases’. AntK 49: 29–41, pls 5–10.

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Intriguing Objects of Desire: Collecting Greek Vases, a Short History Unfolded Daniela Freitas Ferreira1 first group of the kind in Portugal, this collection includes an abundant array of artistic pieces, but also ancient and modern arms, as well as natural and numismatic curiosities. The extensive diversity of these pieces displays the multiplicity of interests of João Allen.3 Moreover, his collection is representative of the time of its compilation, where objects of Classical archaeology took centre stage in private European collections.

In Defence of the Collector1 Since its origins, the history of many museums has gone handin-hand with the history of private collectors, benefiting from the contribution of numerous and distinguished enthusiasts of art and antiquities. This alliance has resulted in the preservation and exposition of artistically and historically relevant collections, including Greek vases - objects that stir curiosity and interest objects that have long stirred curiosity and interest.

The Greek vases of this collection have already been thoroughly studied by Maria Helena da Rocha Pereira and Rui Morais, both proposing hypotheses on how we should classify the vases of this collection, presented in an descriptive catalogue.4 However, the sometimes tumultuous trajectory of the collection, as well as the absence of a comprehensive item inventory, created understandable doubts concerning the origin of some pieces.

This paper suggests a more profound understanding of two of those pieces, a simultaneous expression of art and history. The two greek vases analysed are part of the collection belonging to the Câmara Municipal do Porto. Kept in Soares dos Reis National Museum (Porto, Portugal) since 1937, at least one of these intriguing objects resulted from the integration into the public domain of the private collection pertaining to the diplomat and merchant João Allen.2 Besides seventeen Greek vases, the

Facing the lack of undeniable proof that could guarantee their origin, the analysis of the sealing wax from several

Figure 1. Seal of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies (Photo: Courtesy of Soares dos Reis National Museum). Complutense University of Madrid. UI&D CITCEM - Transdisciplinary Research Centre ‘Culture, Space and Memory’. 2  Santos 2005; Almeida 2008: 72-82. 1 

3  4 

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Almeida 2006: 352-353. Pereira; Morais; Machado 2008: 44-73.

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vases of the collection has been used as criteria to assure their provenance.5 These seals, which sends us back to the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies, indicates the place where they were acquired, suggesting that all elements were obtained at the same time and in the same context.6

he commissioned several pieces. These pieces combined his inclination for classical antiquity with the acquisition of artwork from modern artists. Twenty years later, in 1845, Allen embarked on a new journey to Europe, although there is no record of his aquiring any new pieces.10

Unfortunately, the poor preservation of the seal present in some pieces does not always allow us to confirm its origin. This is the case of a high foot vase, produced using the blackglazed technique, and proven to be an Attic production. Without accurate records of it acquisition, this piece was kept as part of the small collection of Greek vases of the Soares dos Reis National Museum, as the only piece of Greek origin unpublished until the present time.

João Allen’s passion for gathering ‘collectible’ objects reaches its peak in 1836, with the creation of a museum dedicated to the exhibition of artwork, natural curiosities, numismatic items and classic antiquities which he had acquired and maintained, until then, in his private residence, safe from the disturbing military events of the period. The museum, similarly to many others from the same time, had an encyclopaedic nature, comprising a panoply of curiosities, from the artistic, to the biological, geological, and technical, all unified under the common theme of uniqueness

The analysis and classification of this new element was accompanied by a renewed understanding of the whole Greek vase collection, under the supervision of one of the researchers who first studied and classified them (R.M).7 Such a review allowed for a new examination of one of the vases and the rectification of its painter and, consequently, of the information regarding its origin and chronology. This was the case of a red-figured skyphos, that deserves particular mention. In the last portion of the paper, we would like to propose a classification of this particular vase in addition to providing parallels in shape and decoration.

The years that followed the creation of the Allen Museum were equally devoted to the enrichment of his collection, confirmed by recurring shipments of cultural goods and documented by letters, purchase receipts and other types of registries.11 In a period when the collecting practice had not gained a major cultural relevance in Portugal, the enormous impact brought by the Allen Museum awarded him, in 1839, the title of Honorary Academic by the Academia de Belas-Artes de Lisboa, as well as assured the public recognition of his endeavour and his patronage of the arts and preservation of European patrimony.

A Collector’s Odyssey: From João Allen to Soares dos Reis Nacional Museum. We owe João Allen, and his enthusiasm for collecting, the acquisition and preservation of the Greek vases that currently integrate the Soares dos Reis National Museum collection. Descendant from English ancestors settled in Portugal since the beginning of the 18th century, João Francisco Allen made his fortune exporting and dealing with Port wine businesses in Oporto and Gaia, in a particularly difficult period, during the French invasions in the country, the civil war and the subsequent cycle of economic decay.8 He became an illustrious man of culture, investing his fortune in establishing a peerless library and gathering collections as diverse as his interests.9

In 1849, the Allen Museum’s collection was converted to municipal heritage, as a result of public subscription from the most illustrious and important members of Porto society, aiming to guarantee the public acquisition of the collection and the creation of a museum. The deal was concluded in 1850, and led to the creation of the Museu Municipal do Porto, closing in 1940, due to the museological policy of the Estado Novo.12 Allen’s collection was then transferred to Soares dos Reis National Museum, contributing to the development and prestige of that institution. The Collection of Greek Vases

His ancestry and sociocultural background, associated with a context of intellectual renewal felt all across Europe, was characterised by a reawakened interest in antiquity and classical authors, and a taste for artistic and cultural heritage. These influences lead him to join the Italian ‘Grand Tour’, a mainly didactic journey which led him to visit the famous ruins of Pompeii and Herculaneum. His first visit, which occurred between September 1826 and May 1827, triggered a fascination for archaeological remains and his interest for the neoclassical that went on to characterise his collection. It is during this journey that Allen acquired a great part of his numismatic pieces, and among these, the set of Greek vases. While in Rome, he became involved in artistic circles and established a relationship with several painters, from whom

Faithfull to its encyclopaedic nature, the Allen Museum included a small archaeology collection formed by Greek and Roman antiques and a few Etruscan and Egyptian objects. His interests in Classical Culture incorporate his passion for Greek vases, although, apparently, they are not too praised in the references made by Allen about his own collection. In the inventory lists which accompanied the collectible objects, there are only two references to Greek vases. One of the inventories, conducted for reasons of academic appraisal, includes the following comments: ‘[Exhibited in rooms one and two of Allen Museum] (…) 3 lamps and 2 small clay vases (?), from Pompeii excavations (…)[and] 15 vases, lamps, etc., taken from excavations in Pompeii and some found in Portugal. ‘ In ‘Inventário de História Natural e Curiosidades pertencentes ao Museu Allen’, by Joaquim de Santa Clara Sousa Pinto,

Pereira; Morais; Machado 2008: 35-36. In figure 1 it is possible to see an example of this seal placed in a red-figured skyphos, mentioned and studied in the second part of this work. 7  To whom we are thankful for their prompt and dedicated collaboration. 8  Almeida 2008: 72-82. 9  Almeida 2006: 352-353. 5  6 

Santos 2005. Santos 2005. 12  Almeida 2008: 72-82. 10  11 

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José Vitorino Damásio and José António de Aguiar, 1st October 1846 - Arquivo Histórico Municipal do Porto, 1178.

or nuts/dried fruit.16 Appearing simultaneously in smaller and larger sizes, it is possible that the smaller dishes have been progressively replaced by small bowls and saltcellars, which have became increasingly popular as the use of stemmed dishes decreased.17

A second reference, the only one made by João Allen in a letter to Georges Huzon, regarding the three boxes containing objects acquired in Napoli and sent to Porto, mention:

Based on small variations as regards the shape, it is possible to identify four major typological categories simultaneously manufactured: ‘convex and large’; ‘convex and small’; ‘concave lip’ and ‘chalice shape’.18

‘ (…) and it also brought some small antique vases and Greek and Roman copper medals and a collection of Napoli’s landscapes (…)’. In ‘Rascunho da carta enviada por João Allen ao seu correspondente em Roma’, January 1828 (apud Santos 2005: 199).

The first type is known for its large and hollow bowl standing on a short and thick foot that progressively enlarges until the bottom. The foot’s exterior surface, as well as the supporting surface, are commonly left without glaze (reserved). The same happens with the exterior surface of the bottom, in some cases decorated with a small concentric circle and a central point in glaze. The vase from the collection of Soares dos Reis Museum belongs to this major group, which includes the larger number of stemmed dishes. Its most similar equivalent, in regard of shape, is the nº 962 from Agora of Athens, from the second quarter of the 5th century B.C. .19 Both have a high, almost vertical, foot and a ledged frame close to the rim, on the exterior surface of the piece.

Despite the limited information obtained from these references, it is evident that all the objects were of a small size and a wide variety of shapes, implying that João Allen was looking for diverse and representative examples instead of a specific type.. The collection includes eight decorated vases with emphasis given to the decoration composed by human, vegetable and geometric figures; and seven plain and embossed vases. It is also part of the collection a blackglazed guttus, decorated with a female head. These pieces are productions from South Italy, Gnathia type, and date between the fourth and third century B.C..13

The pieces belonging to this group have extremely similar characteristics and only a few distinguishing elements, that might be used as chronological markers. The rim profile is one of those elements. In the first period of production, the rim is preferably tapered. Afterwards, the rim becomes progressively thicker and lowered, just as the vase from the Allen collection. In a later period, an incised groove appears under this thickened rim. That groove may be reserved or covered with glaze. In its last stage of production, the rim’s thickening disappears and only the groove remains.

One of these Things are Not Like the Others: The Stemmed Dish It is part of the small collection of Greek vases of Soares dos Reis National Museum a high foot black-glazed dish proved to be an Attic production, as demonstrated by the good quality of the glaze: thick, very adherent and bright, with some metallic reflections and some greyish areas, both on interior and exterior surfaces. The clay, slightly purified with orange and reddish colour, displays tiny particles of mica.

The inventory lists which accompanied the Greek collection of João Allen, indicate the presence of pieces found in Portuguese territory.20 This can be the case, although not proven, of the stemmed dish previously mentioned, considering its Attic production origin and perceivable differences from all the other vases that integrate the collection. Despite the fact that no such shaped dishes were recovered in Portugal, there is a very similar dish found in the excavations of Neapolis (Empuries, Spain).21 It bears the same diameter and thickened rim but the trunk is slightly narrower.

The shape of the vase, commonly referred to as a ‘stemmed dish’,14 is characterised by a slightly profound convex body and the absence of handles. Only the upper structure of the piece and part of the foot are preserved. The foot gradually extends to the bottom and the rim is plain, with a ledged frame on the exterior surface. The largest set of pieces from this typology has been found in the Agora of Athens. This discovery made it possible to understand their chronology and to pick out several shape variations. Through gathered archaeological data, we know that stemmed dishes reached their peak production between the end of the 4th century B.C. and the second quarter of the 5th century B.C. After that, its use almost disappeared, with only a few small sized pieces appearing in later contexts.15

Other parallels for this shape can be found, for example, in funerary contexts in Bologna, dated from the mid/second quarter of the 5th century.22 Other equivalents are also found in a wide variety of archaeological contexts and museums, presented in Roberts, 1986,23 from 500-480 B.C.; Jacquemin A second possibility suggests it was used as pyxides, an exclusively valid hypothesis in the case of plates presenting reserved rims. (Ibidem: 138-139). 17  Ibidem. 18  Sparkes & Talcott 1970: 138-142. 19  Ibidem. 20  Vide supra ‘ […] taken from excavations in Pompeii and some found in Portugal. ‘ 21  Rouillard 1991: fig. 14, nº 4. 22  Govi, 1999: 108-122, 185. With many similarities to the pieces nº 96 and nº 99, out of a set of 19 ‘convex and large’ type of stemmed dishes. 23  P. 53, pic. 35, nº 358-361.

It is not known, however, what they were used for, even if the larger ones might have been used as plates to serve fresh fruit

16 

In addition to the Greek vessels, the collection is complemented by a lamp, a terracotta and a copy of a Greek vase (Pereira et al 2008: 44-74). 14  Sparkes & Talcott 1970: 138. Occasionally referred to as ‘stemmed bowl’, in some material inventories. 15  Ibidem. 13 

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Figure 2. Top view of the Stemmed Dish.

Figure 3. Bottom view of the Stemmed Dish. It is possible to identify the broken foot as well as the seal presented in several pieces from this collection.

Figure 4. Stemmed Dish from the Soares dos Reis Nacional Museum.

Figure 5. Drawing of the stemmed dish found in the excavations of Neapolis (Empuries, Spain). Rouillard 1991: fig. 14, nº 4.

& Maffre, 1986,24 from 500-460 B.C.; Miles 1998,25 from approximately 550 B.C.; and Ashmolean Museum, 1967,26 the latter with a reserved line between the lip and the rim, dated from the 5th century B.C. A Red-Figured Vessel in the Style of Sydney Painter A red figure skyphos of note is also part of John Allen’s collection. A new analysis of this piece was carried out which allowed for the correct attribution of the painter in addition to providing analogues for its shape and decoration. Firstly, it is key to classify the diacritical, that is, differentiating, decorative features visible in the painter’s hand. On the two faces (A and B) there is a female human figure, dressed in a peplos straightened in the waist. Both figures display profiled heads and a three-quarters body. They are bare footed, in a position of movement and with open arms. On face A, the woman is turned to the left and, in each hand, holds a long branch, drawn vertically. On face B, the figure is turned to the right and her hands are empty and open. These human

Figure 6. Red-figured Skyphos from the Allen collection. representations are delimited, on their sides, by stylized floral elements associated with spirals and settled in a reserved band. Previous analysis of this vase27 suggested resemblances between this piece and the work of the Kassel Bowl Painter,28 pointing out similarities in the head and fingers from the

P. 198, nº VI. 10, pic. 24. P. 127, nº 396. 26  P. 113, nº 424, 425, pl. LIX. 24  25 

27  28 

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Figure 7. Red-figured skyphos from the Allen collection, Face A.

Figure 8. Red-figured skyphos from the Allen collection, Face B.

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through lines which form an acute angle, complemented with a line that touches its extremities and shapes the pupil. The hair is a completely black spot, tied in the back upper part of the head. Another similarity is the frequent use of the incision technique to indicate and enhance anatomic details from the faces and bodies, as well as decorative patterns of the clothes and drapery. The incisions are commonly highlighted by the superposition of extremely watery painted lines, in black lacquer, meticulously drawn with a fine-tipped paintbrush. Regarding the stylistic characteristics, a strong similarity in the position of the female figures, drapery aesthetics, representation of the breasts and vegetal motives has been identified in Pontrandolfo & Rouveret 1992: 365-366, nº 2.31 It is a lebes gamikòs, identified in a female’s grave from the mid 380/370 B.C. and also attributed to the style of the Sydney Painter. The same stylistic characteristics are presented in Pontrandolfo & Rouveret: 317, nº 6;32 Pontrandolfo & Rouveret: 349, nº 8, prominence given to the similarity regarding the vegetable motives on the sides of the piece; in Pontrandolfo & Rouveret: 354-355, nº 6;33 Pontrandolfo & Rouveret: 379, nº 5;34 the latter belonging to the calligraphic period of the above mentioned painter.

Figure 9. Stylistic characteristics: anatomic details.

Despite the large variety of objects held in the female’s hands, it is important Figure 10. Use of the incision technique to indicate and enhance decorative patterns of the to underline the drawing of a vertical clothes and drapery. branch analogous to the one represented in the Allen collection vase, in a redfigured hydria equally attributed to the style of the Sydney Parrih Painter, Campania style .29 The stylistic characteristics Painter presented in Pontrandolfo & Rouveret 1992: 308, nº 7. of the decoration resemble, however, some features from works attributed to the style of the Sydney Painter.30 Such pieces were found in females’ graves in Paestum, dated from Based on the abundant evidence, it is safe to assume that the first quarter of the 4th century B.C. the vase from Allen’s collection should be chronologically attributed to the first quarter of the 4th century B.C. In both cases, as in the Allen collection skyphos, the clothes are ornamented with fold lines, particularly in the female’s Acknowledgement shoulders and in the lower part of the drapery, being similar and straight over a stretched leg and curved over a bent leg. I am grateful to Soares dos Reis National Museum for allowing Equally similar is the representation of short lines immediately the publication of two pieces from its collection and to Ana above the element that straightens the waist. Likewise, the Paula Machado for their generous assistance. I would also depiction of one of the breasts assumes a round shape and is like to acknowledge the incentive and support of Rui Morais, complemented by a small incise centred circle, representing to whom I am in debt for introducing me to the theme of the nipple. The second breast is suggested by radial lines that Greek vases and in these particular pieces of Soares dos Reis provide it a more elongated shape. Similarly to what happens Nacional Museum. Finally, I would like to thank F. Costa Vaz in the pieces attributed to the style of the Sydney Painter, in for the spelling revision. the skyphos from the Allen collection, the eyes are represented = Trendall 1987, Group B, nº 149. = Trendall 1987, Group A, nº 16. 33  = Trendall 1987, Group B, nº 163. 34  = Trendall 1987, Group A, nº 68. 31 

Trendall 1967: pl. 101, 1. 30  Trendall 1987: 379, pl. 238, Grupo B, nº 131 e 126 = Pontrandolfo & Rouveret 1992: 361-362, nº 7. 29 

32 

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Fgure 11. Parallels for the stylistic and technique execution. In the style of Sidney Painter Sydney (Trendall 1987).

Figure 12. Parallels for the stylistic and technique execution. In the style of Sydney Painter. (Pontrandolfo & Rouveret 1992).

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Bibliography

Pontrandolfo, A.; Rouveret, A. 1992. Le tombe dipinte di Paestum. Franco Cosimo Panini Editore. Roberts, S. R. 1986. The Stoa Gutter well: A Late Archaic Deposit in the Athenian Agora, In Hesperia 55: 53, nº 358361. Rouillard, P. 1991. Les Grecs et la Péninsule Ibérique du VIIIe au IVe siècle avant Jésus.Christ. Paris: diff. De Boccard (Publ. Du Centre Pierre Paris). Santos, P. M. M. L. 2005. Um colecionador do Porto românico João Allen (1781-1848). Porto: Imprensa Portuguesa. Sparkes, A. B. & Talcott, L. 1970. The Athenian Agora, Black and Plain Pottery of the 6th, 5th and 4th Centuries B.C. Volume XII. Princeton, New Jersey: The American School of Classical Studies at Athens. Trendall, A. D. 1967. The Red-figure Vases of Lucania, Campania and Sicily. Oxford: Clarendon Press, pl. 101, 1 Trendall, A.D. 1987. The red-figured vases of Paestum. British School at Rome. Trendall, A. D. & Cambitoglou, A. 1978-82. The Red-Figured Vases of Apulia. Oxford: Clarendon Press; New York: Oxford University Press, vol. II, pl. 265, 12.

Almeida, A. P. 2006. Os museus do liberalismo no Porto. In Tripeiro, 7ª Série, ano XXV, Número II: 352-353. Almeida, A. P. 2008. Museu Munucipal do Porto. Das Origens à sua Extinção (1836-1940). Dissertação apresentada à Faculdade de Letras da Universidade do Porto. Ashmolean Museum, M. B. & Beazley, J. D. 1967. Select Exhibition of Sir John and Lady Beazley’s Gifts to the Ashmolean Museum 19121966. London: Oxford University Press: 113, nº 424, 425, pl. LIX. Govi, E. 1999. Le ceramiche Attiche a Vernice Nera di Bologna. Bologna: University Press Bologna, Museo Civico Archaelogico di Bologna, pl. 14-98. Jacquemin, A. & Maffre, J. J. 1986. Nouveaux vases grecs de la Collection Zénon Piéridès à Larnaca. In Bulletin de Correspondance Hellénique, vol. 110, Núm.1 (1986): 198, IV, nº 10, fig. 24. Miles, M. 1998. The Athenian Agora, The City Eleusinion, Vol. 31. Princeton, New Jersey: American School of Classical Studies at Athens. Pereira, M.H., R. Morais, & A.P. Machado. 2008. Vasos gregos, Coleção de João Allen. Lisboa: Museu Nacional de Soares do Reis.

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Youth in an Enclosed Context: New Notes on the Attic Pottery from the Iberian Tútugi Necropolis (Granada, Galera) Carmen Rueda1 and Ricardo Olmos2 To Sir J. Boardman, master and friend Introduction.1The 2Tútugi Necropolis: Contexts and Spaces of Interaction3

divided into three zones. Two of these zones are to the north of the settlement, separated from it by the River Orce and its plain, while the third sector of the necropolis is to the east, in a small ravine.4 It has been in use since the 6th century BC, although it reached its peak in the 4th-3rd centuries BC. (Figure 1). The selected cases, from the late 5th century BC, are from the period that defines the increasingly systematic incorporation of Attic pottery into the Iberian funerary space.5 From this time, we find contexts in which it is possible to analyse some of these religious constructs in which codes related to youth intervene.

In this article we analyse how spaces and associations shed light on the renewed meanings of Attic ceramics in the Iberian context. We begin with a fundamental idea: that Attic pottery converses with its context and assumes a new meaning from the resultant conversation. As such, in the narratives related to the hereafter, Attic pottery becomes integrated and its original significance is transformed in the adoption process, contributing to the Iberian elite’s construction of the imaginary. The Iberian necropolis of Tútugi (Galera, Granada) brings us closer to archaeological records in which we can analyse some of these religious constructs, such as that associated with youth. In this space, Attic image and indigenous materials confer and define the aristocratic ambit of youth, which is associated with initiation and education. However, it also contributes to the study of other aspects linked to the definition of legitimation codes, which can be analysed from a contextual and spatial analysis, in which the Attic image intervenes.

This funerary space has been known since the early 20th century, when it began to be subjected to mass plundering. This was the reason for the first official excavations, which were sponsored by the Junta Superior de Investigaciones Científicas and supervised by Federico de Motos between 1916 and 1917. In 1918 the excavation was extended, then under the direction of Juan Cabré,6 investigating in the most representative spaces, which have since become milestones in the historiography of Iberian archaeology. In fact, together with sites such as the sanctuary of Collado de los Jardines (Santa Elena, Jaén),7 the Tútugi necropolis has become a

The Tútugi necropolis is associated with the settlement of El Cerro del Real and occupies an extensive highland area

Figure 1. Location map and aerial view of the Iberian necropolis of Tútugi (Rodríguez-Ariza 2014) University Research Institute for Iberian Archaeology, University of Jaén. Jaén, Spain. 2  Retired Research Professor, Institute of History, CSIC. Madrid, Spain 3  This study has been carried out within the framework of the HAR2014-59008-JIN Project of the Ministry of Economy and Competitiveness. 1 

Rodríguez-Ariza 2014: 28-29. Olmos 2006: 223. 6  Cabré and Motos 1920. 7  Calvo and Cabré 1919. 4  5 

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benchmark for the construction of everything ‘Iberian’, and its finds, architecture and contexts have contributed to configuring the reference models.8

century BCE), a krater and cup make up the prototypical grave goods as the most representative assemblage. Both forms acquire a symbolic and functional relationship, sometimes linked to banqueting. At these times, the krater may have maintained its significance as an aristocratic wine vessel and, at the same time, the receptacle for the ashes of the deceased. In fact, many of the Attic vessels documented in Iberian funerary contexts, especially the kraters, would have been exclusively for funerary use.14 With this meaning, the Attic vessel and its function is, in some cases, subordinate to the image it incorporates and it is the context that gives meaning to the articulation between that exceptional image and the rest of the items it relates to.15 Below we take a detailed look at the two closed contexts selected, in which the Attic image supports an exceptional youth-related theme.

From the 1960s, the excavations focused on the settlement and marking its stratigraphic sequence.9 It was not until 2000 that work resumed directly on this funerary space. These excavations continued until 2010 in different phases and led to a re-reading and new spatial and contextual discoveries, as well as the recognition of the value of the archaeological site.10 In addition, during those years there was an exhaustive review of the finds from this necropolis, which are now in the National Archaeological Museum, Madrid. That study is now fundamental for any analysis focusing on this funerary space.11

Tomb 11. The Hippotrophia as a Value and a Symbol

From the Context to the Image: The Narratives in the Interior of the Tomb

We begin with one of the most outstanding tombs in the necropolis, one with a long and complex history and at least two different phases of use.16 Situated in the western part of Zone Ia, it was initially built as an 11.5-m2 quadrangular chamber cut into the clayey marl. It is entered on the eastern side through a one-metre-long passage that ends at a system of steps, of which at least five are preserved. The chamber floor is made of plaster, on which you can still see the marks of the posts that supported the load-bearing structure. Two areas of ustrina associated with this tomb have been documented. They appear to be connected to ritual ceremonies that involved the controlled burning of scrub-type plants, such as esparto stalks (Figure 2).

The very history of the investigations of this necropolis make it an ideal context for new proposals. Far from losing all hope for a space, most of which was excavated in the early 20th century, or resigning ourselves to mere descriptive readings of the finds, the in-depth reviews that have been made of it and the new excavations carried out, allow us to return with new questions and to delve more deeply into the original interpretative readings. It should be pointed out that the excavations have made it possible to complete previously known contexts, obtain new reference stratigraphic sequences and absolute datings and, fundamentally, to apply spatial readings that are basic to our understanding of the religious and legitimisation processes, in which the iconography plays an obvious role. Although we also have to point out that that we are faced with major limitations, such as the absence of anthropological analyses of the cremation remains, which is without doubt a variable that has to be taken into account and means that we must be cautious when making hypotheses.

Above the seal of this first period of use, another 2.5 x 3 metre rectangular chamber was built at a later time. It was a closed chamber (three walls are preserved) with a roof of pine planks. On the outside, a platform of tamped mud was built and bordered by red-painted adobe walls. Red has a clear symbolic meaning at this necropolis. It is used on the exterior architecture of some tombs, Tumulus 2017 being the most representative. It thus created a temenos-like space covering an area of around 50 m2. In that period, one of the ustrinum from the previous phase continued in use, materialising the recovery and memory of the preceding structure and rite, although we are unable to specify more than that. This phase also saw the recovery of the material from the previous period, based on the amortisation of some of the items from the original grave goods, among them the Attic assemblage and, perhaps, the bone remains. This is an important aspect that we will return to later.

Taking into account this analytical context, a look at the micro-space, without disregarding the contextual and spatial reading, helps us understand aspects related to the aristocratic cult, in the cases selected for this article, associated with codes of youth. The Attic finds form part of these dynamics and they are assimilated into and interact with the construction of those paradigms.12 Therefore, the Attic pottery sometimes complements its significance with the objects with which it is deposited and assumes a local interpretation, which distances us from its meaning as a mere prestige receptacle.13

The grave goods of this tomb consist of an assemblage of finds that make sense when given a full and interrelated reading (Figure 3). Thus, the excavations at the beginning of the 20th century uncovered Attic grave goods consisting of a red-figure krater and a Cástulo cup. To this, together with the finds documented in the 2009 excavations, we can add an Iberian tapered-rim urn, two plate/lids, a jar, a plate decorated in red, a plain plate, a bowl, the remains of a bronze jug, a belt buckle, a falcata, a speartip, a ferrule, two horse-bridle bits

Far from merely descriptive readings, it is necessary to give it content, as in fact it originally had, as that contributes to generating the mythological narrations specific to those historical moments and adapts to the established regulations. Thus, for example, in Upper Andalucía, for the chronology we are looking at (late 5th century BCE - first quarter of the 4th González Reyero 2014: 327. Pellicer and Schüle 1962. 10  For a complete analysis of the most recent actions, cf. RodíguezAriza 2014. 11  Pereira et alii 2004. 12  Boardman 2001. 13  Rouillard 1994; Sánchez 2000; Olmos 2003. 8  9 

Sánchez 1997: 40. Rueda and Grau in press. 16  Rodríguez-Ariza 2014: 47-58. 17  Rodríguez-Ariza et alii 2008. 14  15 

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Figure 2. Section of tomb 11, with indication of the two phases of use (Rodríguez-Ariza 2014) and two fibulas, one of them made of iron documented in the excavation18 (Figure 4). These items are associated with a few, very fragmented bone remains that it has not been possible to analyse.19

sites in the territory of Cástulo in the Upper Guadalquivir region.21 At the sanctuaries of Collado de los Jardines (Santa Elena, Jaén) and La Cueva de la Lobera (Castellar, Jaén) thousands of bronze figurines representing the images of worshippers and their rituals (4th-3rd centuries BC)22 were left as offerings. In that extremely rich votive iconography it is possible demarcate ritual attitudes that can be linked to the acquisition of the falcata23 or the belt buckle,24 as symbols of having reached the coming of age ritual.25

Subject to these limitations, we focus on the iconography associated with this tomb, specifically on the Group of Polygnotos bell krater, dated to around 440 BC and depicting a horse rider/child on horseback being received by a winged Victoria20 (Figure 5). There can be no doubt that the reading of this vessel, the only item of figurative iconography deposited in this tomb during its two phases, is enriched by the rest of the finds. It is of interest to note, as a theme linked to initiation and hippotrophia, that it is associated with the remains of a panoply, as well as of items of apparel, including a belt buckle and two fibulas. In the Iberian context, objects such as the falcata and the belt buckle are associated with the rites of youth. It is possible to trace these processes at the worship

The assemblage – Attic vessels and grave goods – builds a narrative alluding to the membership of the knight class and to the hippotrophia that corresponds to the aristocracy, all perfectly understandable in the Iberian context. In fact, Face B of this krater affirms the education of youth and, as Rueda 2011. Rueda 2008. 23  An exceptional example, very allusive in this respect, comes from the shrine of Castellar and is in the collection of the Museum of Barcelona (No. 19272), cf. Nicolini 1977: Plate 27. It refers to a special attitude: a young man, wearing the attire specific to the rites of passage, embracing a falcata, shown stuck to his chest, focused and emphasised in the context of the image, Cf. Rueda 2013: 365. 24  The bronze belt buckle, of the same type as is documented in Tomb 11 at Tútugi, is re-signified in the masculine image in these shrines, representing a symbol of the attire of some series of young men with short tunics. On numerous occasions the buckle is highlighted as a symbol of the male gender and possibly of a group, lineage or territory. For some examples, cf. Álvarez-Ossorio 1941: XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL; Prados 1992: 330-331, Nos. 334 to 358; Nicolini 1969: XV-XVI. 25  Rueda 2013: 356-357. 21  22 

Pereira et alii 2004: 84-85; Rodríguez-Ariza 2014: 60-61 They have been used for dating with indeterminate results. There are no published studies of the cremated remains associated with this tomb, although in the study carried out by Pereira et alii, an oral reference by Dr Francisco Gómez Bellard is mentioned that associates the remains of a young woman aged about twenty with the flared-rim cinerary urn, Cf. Pereira et alii. 2004: 86. It is not possible to specify more, nor whether it was the tomb of an individual, a couple or a collective. 20  MAN 1979/70/4. Cabré and Motos 1920: 24, Plate XIV; Trías 19671968: 457, pl. CCIII and CCV, 1; Domínguez Monedero and Sánchez 2001: Fig. 101, No. 102; Olmos 1999: No. 33.1. 18  19 

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Figure 3. Grave goods of the tomb 11 of the necropolis of Tútugi (Cabré and Motos 1920)

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Figure 4. Grave goods of the tomb 11 of the necropolis of Tútugi (Rodríguez-Ariza 2014: fig. 50)

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Figure 5. Group of Polygnotos bell krater. National Archaeological Museum, Madrid in the Iberian ambience, the krater can be read as part of its assemblage, in a sequential and integrative narrative. This is confirmed by the imitations, for example on the Iberian krater from Atalayuelas (Fuerte del Rey, Jaén).26

On the other hand, we cannot forget the presence of Nike, who takes on the role of the funerary deity who receives the noble horse rider and guides him on his journey to the hereafter. This is an allusion to the winged divinity recognised in the Iberian religious imaginary30 and is clearly linked to the Iberian eschatological narrative, as can be seen in other Iberian examples, such as the sculpture from the park of Elche (Alicante).31

The role of this tomb as part of the necropolis complex, as we will see below from the spatial reading, is reaffirmed from the generation of those key discourses in the context of the aristocratic class, in which the horse rider and the horse provide a very important archetype in the construction of the narratives of legitimation and memory.27 The attributes of both are deposited in the tomb, including part of the horse harness and bits. The horse rider-child contributes to the construction of memory and sacredness, and this krater is chosen at the moment of the initiation, of the education that alludes to the existence of codes that regulate the rituality also related to youth. The paradigmatic case of the sculptures of Osuna (Seville province), in a monumental language and from a later period, enrich the comparative reading.28 However, the time chosen may demarcate a key moment: the transformation of youth into adult and the assumption of new symbols that are extensively represented in the Attic image through exceptional examples, in which signs such as, once again, the sword, assume an extraordinary significance.29

Tomb 34. Female Initiation The second example selected, contemporary with the previous one, is in the southern area of Zone Ia.32 It is defined as another chamber cut into the rock and has a rectangular shape with a maximum area of 14.26 m2. This makes it one of the largest tombs in this necropolis. It is entered from the western side, through a 3-metre-long corridor that descends to the door of the chamber, which is accessed via two steps. The closure system appears to follow the common scheme of this necropolis (Figure 6). The grave goods are rather opulent. They consist of a redfigure bell krater,33 an Attic Cástulo cup and four iberian flaredrim amphoras with a rich vegetal and animal decoration. To these we have to add at least one more amphora of a similar typology discovered in the 2009 excavations, as well as an urn,

Olmos 2003. Boardman 2004; Olmos 2006: 20-21. 28  We are referring in particular to the reliefs that could refer to ludus played by children. Cf. León 1999; Olmos 2002-2003. 29  Masseria 2017. 26 

Olmos and Tortosa 2009. Chapa and Belén 2011. 32  Rodríguez-Ariza 2014: 118-123. 33  Fragments of this krater were found during the 2009 excavations. 30 

27 

31 

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Figure 6. View of the final floor of the tomb 34 (Rodríguez-Ariza, 2014: fig. 129) two lids, a bowl, a fragment of calceiform and two small, glasspaste amphoras imported from the Eastern Mediterranean34 (Figure 7-8).

meanings. For this specific case, music defines the rite of passage through instruments, such as the aulos and the lyre, that are perfectly recognisable in Iberian rituality. In fact, the Iberian image is no stranger to this type of mythemes, which are included in diverse ritual contexts, such as the Sculpture of Osuna (Seville)38 or in the ceramic of La Serreta (Alcoi, Alicante).39 In both cases, a youth is playing the diaulos in very precise ritual contexts,40 social events that may be related to the social processes of learning and initiation in which boys and girls participated in ritual and festive activities with view to their inclusion in the adult world41

In contrast to the previous context, in this case the Attic iconography is complemented by the group of large of oriental Tartessian-tradition amphoras that bear themes related to natural and animal exuberance (Figure 9). Memory and tradition are incorporated and redefined in this original context. The theme selected for this case takes us back to the scene of female paideia, framed within the introduction to the knowledge of the lyre and the diaulos of the hereafter.35 The protagonist is a youth, who, with a timid gesture, enters the regulated space of a music class. Seems to be carrying a small lyre. He is welcomed by two muses, intermediaries and transmitters of the divine message through song and poetry, as well as music.36 The initiation to music and the association with infancy is not exclusive to this context. The closest Attic reference we have is at the shrine of Els Pilars, where an amphora dated to between 470 and 460 BC was documented with an iconographic motif referring to transition and initiation related to the ambit of music. A coming of age motif that ‘alludes to the concurrence – and possible succession – of two instruments, the chelys-lyre and the diaulos’.37 Once again, the introduction of the Greek image enriches the significance of the Iberian rite and its reading. The Greek image becomes part of the complex of codes of the Iberian religious structure in Eastern Andalusia; it is assimilated and provides new

However, the context once again redefines the general reading to which the krater contributes. In this case, we have a set of amphoras that suggests a rich natural environment, expressed in a language and the forms of tradition. The red decoration symbolically delineates a universe of geometric, vegetal and animal motifs. They include the griffin, a mythical animal that is a direct link to the orientalising tradition, as we can see in examples such as Cerro Alcalá (Jaén) or Carmona (Seville).42 In fact, that mythical animal is depicted in this necropolis, in indigenous iconography, as can be seen on a limestone cinerary urn with a protector griffin associated with floral shoots.43 It can also be seen in the Attic Olmos 2002-2003. Grau y Olmos 2005. 40  González Reyero 2008. 41  Chapa and Olmos 2004: 73-74. 42  Olmos 2003; Pachón et alii 2009. 43  An image that contains an iconic earlier tradition that is well known in large-format sculpture and whose most illustrative reference is the sculptural assemblage of Porcuna (Jaén, mid-5th century BC-early 4th century BC), in which the protective and 38  39 

Pereira et alii 2004: 103; Rodríguez-Ariza 2014: 124-125. MAN 1979/70/341. Domínguez and Sánchez 2001: No. 101, Fig. 100. 36  A model that perfectly shows the krater, with a white background, in the Vatican Museums (mid-5th century BC), cf. Stella 1956. 37  Grau and Olmos 2005: 56. 34  35 

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Figure 7. Grave goods of the tomb 34 of the necropolis of Tútugi (Perea et al. 2004: fig 40, Domínguez Monedero and Sánchez 2001: fig 100)

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Figure 8. Grave goods of the tomb 34 of the necropolis of Tútugi (Rodríguez-Ariza 2014: fig. 132)

Figure 9. Tomb. 34. Detail of oriental Tartessian-tradition amphoras (VVAA 2004)

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iconography, for example on a pelike that depicts two griffins protecting a female head adorned with a Phrygian cap arriving or emerging in the realm of death.44

accumulates a very special history that spans through two phases. It has been identified as the principal founding tomb and in a second period it became an open-air temple in which a temenos is delimited in red, with the shape of a bull hide in mud.47 A ritual space, a central landmark in this necropolis and especially in this Zone Ia. A more complicated matter, as we only have a partial record, is specifying how Tombs 34 and 11 are incorporated into this foundational process, although it seems clear that the triangle made up by these three tombs sustains and justifies the genesis, foundation and organisation of this area of the necropolis.48

What is interesting about this context – Tomb 34 – is the combination of languages that articulate a unitary construction combining memory and tradition with the incorporation of the exogenous image. All this took place at a time that defines the introduction of Attic material into the Iberian context in Eastern Andalusia. We see two different iconographic codes coexisting in the same tomb, bringing together and synthesising different times and spaces, generating a new language, rich in nuances. It is a context of the gestation of new religious narratives, in this case related to the female codes of youth.

At this point, it is interesting to observe how the image interacts with the internal context of the tombs, given that the variability of the meanings is fixed in the unrepeatable reading of the archaeological context, a reference in which the image itself interacts with the space in which it was deposited and in which it was found. In these contexts, we find ourselves faced with a heterogenous panorama in which the choices of the narratives of power follow different patterns. Thus, in the case of Tomb 20, the iconographic protagonism is focused on the image of a divinity seated on a throne of sphinxes who, through her perforated head and breasts, offers a libation of milk, perfumes or ambrosía.49 It is an alabaster statuette inherited from an earlier period at the beginning of the 6th century BC. The context is enriched by polychrome glass amphoriskoi of Eastern Mediterranean origin, a bronze phiale mesomphalos50 and a Cástulo-cup, as well as local offering vessels that were once decorated with polychrome. Absent from this context is the red-figure krater.51 In this sacred area, it is not acceptable to have other images with the maternal goddess made of alabaster. Neither poikilia nor the symposion is allowed before the mother-goddess, who offers the milk of her breasts. We see something similar in Baza, where

And the space endows it with content… the Attic image in the definition of the codes of social relations in the Tútugi necropolis. The examples selected take us to the earliest phase of Zone Ia in the necropolis, a period of genesis during which we see the beginning of a delineation of spatial aspects and internal organisation of great interest for the socio-ideological readings that emanate from them. Tombs 11 and 34 are, together with Tomb 20, those that distribute the space in this area of the necropolis. They coincide in their chronology, their similar measurements and their equinoctial orientation (Figure 10). To this we can add that, in spatial terms, they are situated equidistant from each other, making an almost perfect triangle, which makes sense of the subsequent growth of this area.45 This has led to the hypothesis that each of these tombs is identified with the heads of the different lineage groups .46 Without doubt, Tomb 20 can be defined as a central space that

Figure 10. Map of the necropolis of Tútugi, with indication of the main founding area (Source: Rodríguez-Ariza, 2014: fig. 105) Rodríguez-Ariza et alii 2008. For a more extensive debate, Cf. Rodríguez-Ariza 2014. 49  Olmos 2004; González Reyero 2007. 50  Shefton 1991: 309-312. 51  Pereira et alii 2004.

fecundating function of the griffin stands out, cf. Chapa et alii 2009: 161-173. 44  For an up-to-date analysis, cf. Olmos and Moreno-Conde in press. 45  Rodríguez-Ariza 2014: 249. 46  Rodríguez-Ariza 2014: 254.

47  48 

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Figure 11. Attic set of the necropolis of Piquía (Rueda y Olmos 2015)

separating the processes, this amortisation recalls the context of Piquía (Arjona, Jaén), in which the Attic pottery and images were selected to construct the memory of one of the last Iberian lineages of the Upper Guadalquivir. It is a 1st-century-BC chamber with an Attic assemblage of seven kraters and a cup bearing an articulated iconographic programme composed of scenes that acquire a narrative meaning that culminates in the heroising representation (Figure 11). We see all this without losing sight of the complementary gender reading, as the masculine iconography is highlighted and complemented by the feminine ideal. It is a context, therefore, that explains the spaces of assimilation and adaptation to the Iberian religious structure55 and is additional confirmation that the tradition of the religious practices of the Iberian aristocracy and, above all, its signification, is being revived and redefined in a new socio-political space.56

the foundational tomb is presided over by the grand lady seated on a winged throne, inside which are the ashes of the deceased, a young woman.52 A different process is followed in Tomb 11, in which the Attic red-figure image brings together the unique iconography through a classical Athenian model53 that, in the indigenous context, can be re-signified in heroic terms. The described vessel places the image in a key moment that achieves a perfectly comprehensible narrative meaning in the Iberian context. The masculine ambit culminates with the heroising action as an assimilable theme in aristocratic society. The power of the gesture accentuates the moment chosen in the representation: the instant of the apparition of Nike, probably assimilated with the divinity, the libation linked to the heroisation and the renovation that accompanies the libatory rite and nudity as a channel for expressing a specifically aristocratic language.54

Tomb 34, one of the two largest in the necropolis, follows a different process to those described above. As a foundational space, it offers the image of prestige through the female initiation, which is combined with the traditional iconography through the magnificent assemblage of Iberian amphoras. A harmonious synthesis of languages that demarcates an original and not at all contradictory narrative. It becomes one of the earliest references for analysing the incorporation of the Attic image and its link to different iconographic traditions that would culminate in examples of Iberian imitation, such as the krater from the necropolis of Atalayuelas (Fuerte del Rey, Jaén).57

This context shares a feature with Tomb 20: it has two phases of use, in the last of which some of the grave goods from the first phase were reused, including this krater. This could indicate a process of foundational memory (re-foundation?) supported by heroic variables. Despite the distance

Olmos et alii 2012; Rueda and Olmos 2015. Ruiz et alii 2015. An exceptional example of the synthesis of different languages that generate an original narrative that summarises the old orientalising memory with a new formula that contributes to the narration of local mythologies. Cf. Pachón et alii 2007. 55  56 

Izquierdo and Chapa 2010. Cf. Relief of the Hero-Horse Rider, Athens NM 1386, LIMC, Vol. II, Tav. 22, No. 108. 54  Rueda and Olmos 2015. 52 

57 

53 

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Figure 12. Images of initiation in the Cova dels Pilars and in the sanctuary of Puente Tablas (Grau and Olmos 2005; Ruiz et alii 2015; Rueda and Grau in press) Bibliography

The selected examples indicate how the codes related to youth were evocatively incorporated and repeated in the Iberian social and religious space.58 The values related to initiation and education become more powerful when associated with the foundation, as well as with the memory. Thus, the motif of the sacred foundation of a placed linked to a personage appears to be documented in other Iberians contexts, such as worship sites. These are intriguing cases that take us back to the Attic image relating to initiation as a collective symbol, in the way they became ritual symbols that identify an age group. Worthy of mention, by way of contrast, are the shrines at the southern gate of the oppidum of Puente Tablas (Jaén)59 and at Cueva dels Pilars (Alcoi, Alicante)60 (Figure 12).

Álvarez-Ossorio. F.1941. Catálogo de los exvotos ibéricos del Museo Arqueológico Nacional. Madrid. Boardman, J. 2001. The history of greek vases. London: Thames and Hudson Ed. Boardman, J. 2004. Archeologia della nostalgia. Come i greci reinventarono il loro passato. Milano: Ed. Bruno Mondadori. Cabré, J. and Motos, F. 1920. La necrópolis ibérica de Tútugi (Galera), provincia de Granada. Memoria de las excavaciones practicadas en 1918. Memorias de la Junta Superior de Excavaciones y Antigüedades 25. Madrid. Calvo, C. and Cabré, J. 1919: Excavaciones de la Cueva y Collado de los Jardines (Santa Elena, Jaén). Memoria de los trabajos realizados en el año 1918. Junta Superior de Excavaciones y Antigüedades. Madrid. Chapa, T. and Olmos, R. 2004. El imaginario del joven en la cultura ibérica. Melanges de la Casa de Velázquez 34: 43-83. Chapa, T. and Belén, M. 2011. Viaje a la eternidad. El grupo escultórico del Parque Infantil de Tráfico (Elche, Alicante). Spal 20: 151-174. Chapa, T., Vallejo, I., Belén, M., Martínez-Navarrete, Mª I., Ceprián, B., Rodero, A. and Pereira, J. 2009. El trabajo de los escultores ibéricos: un ejemplo de Porcuna (Jaén) (1). Trabajos de Prehistoria, 66, nº 1: 161-173. Domínguez Monedero, A. and Sánchez, C. 2001. Greek Pottery from the Iberian Peninsula. Archaic and Classical periods. Leiden: Gocha R. Tsetskhladze ed. Brill. González Reyero, S. 2007. La dama de Galera. Creación, transformación iconográfica e incidencia en las dinámicas sociales, Rivista di Studi Fenici, vol. 35, nº2: 141160. González Reyero, S. 2008. Música, memoria y comportamiento social en la Contestania ibérica. El caso de El Cigarralejo (Mula, Murcia). In A. Adroher and J. Blánquez (eds.), Primer Congreso Internacional de Arqueología Ibérica Bastetana, Serie Varia, 9: 69-86. Madrid: Universidad Autónoma de Madrid/Universidad de Granada.

In the cases we are focusing on in this article, the codes linked to youth are integrated into the narratives related to the hereafter and the eschatological ideal inherent to the beliefs of those societies. The funerary initiation and the universe related to the journey to the hereafter are well-defined on the prestige vessels, where we see codes that re-signify some of the main values of the Iberian aristocracy. It is no coincidence that in the genesis of this necropolis at Tútugi we find the image of the divinity, to which we can add initiation as a concept that connects with those values, in this case demarcated by gender. Furthermore, the subsequent reuse of part of the grave goods and their incorporation into a new context of relationships (we are speaking of Tombs 20 and 11) helps us understand how they were involved in those mythemes in reinforcing the memory of the lineage, which contributes to the legitimation substantiated in a distant time and space and transferred through a prestige language perfectly integrated into the Iberian religious structure. We believe that as a whole they become examples that define and open up a thought-provoking path of investigation that forces us to focus on the context and the uses and transformation of Attic vessels and iconography in the Iberian religious space. Rueda 2013; Rueda and Grau in press. Ruiz et alii 2015. 60  Grau and Olmos 2005. 58  59 

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González Reyero, S. 2014. Entre nacionales y extranjeros: Galera en la conformación de un modelo para la protohistoria ibera. In Rodríguez-Ariza, La necrópolis ibérica de Tútugi (2000-2012), CAAI Textos 6: 325-348. Jaén: Universidad de Jaén. Grau, I. and Olmos, R. 2005. El ánfora ática de la Cova dels Pilars (Agres, Alicante): una propuesta de lectura iconográfica en su contexto espacial ibérico. Archivo Español de Arqueología 78: 49-78. Izquierdo, I. and Chapa, T. (eds.) 2010. La Dama de Baza. Un viaje femenino al más allá. Madrid: Ministerio de Cultura. León, P. 1999. La sculpture des Ibères. Paris : L’Harmattan. Masseria, C. 2017. Di padre in figlio... ‘come ricordo e pegno’. Un cratere a figure rosse da Camarina. In C. Masseria and E. Marroni (Eds.) Dialogando. Studi in onore di Mario Torelli: 275-288. Pisa: Edizioni ETS. Nicolini, G. 1969. Les Bronzes Figurés des Sanctuaires Ibériques. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. Nicolini, G. 1977. Bronces Ibéricos.Barcelona: Ed. Gustavo Gili, S.A. Olmos, R. 1999. Los iberos y sus imágenes (CD-Rom). Madrid Olmos, R. 2002-2003. En la flor de la edad. Un ideal de representación heroico iberohelenístico. Cuadernos de Prehistoria y Arqueología de la Universidad Autónoma de Madrid. 28-29: 259-272. Olmos, R. 2003. La imagen en la cultura tartésica. In J. Blánquez (ed.) Cerámicas orientalizantes del Museo de Cabra: 32-55. Cabra: Ayuntamiento de Cabra. Olmos, R. 2004. La Dama de Galera (Granada): la apropiación sacerdotal de un modelo divino. In J. Pereira, T. Chapa, A. Madrigal, A. Uriarte and V. Mayoral (Eds.): La necrópolis ibérica de Galera (Granada). La colección del Museo Arqueológico Nacional: 213-238. Madrid. Olmos, R. 2006. Vaso griego e imagen orientalizante en la Andalucía ibérica: la colisión de dos tradiciones iconográficas (siglos v-iv a.C.). In F. Giudice et alii (eds.) Il greco, il barbaro e la cerámica attica. Immaginario del diverso, processi di scambio e autorappresentazione degli indigeni, (Università di Catania 14-19 Maggio 2001), Università di Catania: 219-228. Roma: Editorial L’Erma di Bretschneider. Olmos, R. and Tortosa, T. 2009. Vasos griegos en Iberia: una diversidad de espacios y usos sacros. In S. Fortunelli and C. Masseria (eds.), Ceramica attica da santuari della Grecia, della Ionia e dell’Italia: 57-70. Perugia: Osanna Edizioni. Olmos, R. and Moreno-Conde, M. In press. Paris o Alejandro en los dos vasos áticos del Cerro del Real, Tútugi (Galera, Granada) y más cosas… In X. Aquilué, P. Cabrera and M. Orfila (Eds.) Homenaje a la Dra. Glòria Trias Rubiés. Miscelánea Arqueológica con motivo del cincuentenario de la edición de su libro Cerámicas griegas de la Península Ibérica (1967-2017). Girona: Centro Iberia Graeca. Olmos, R., Rueda, C., Ruiz, A., Molinos, M., Rísquez, C. and Gómez, F. 2012. Imágenes para un linaje: vida, muerte y memoria ritual en la Cámara principesca de Piquía (Arjona, Jaén). In S. Angiolillo; M. Giuman e C. Pilo (a cura di): MEIXIS. Atti del Convegno Internazionale di Studi: Il sacro e il profano. Dinamiche di stratificazione

culturale nella periferia greca e romana: 89-104. Roma: Bretschneider. Pachón, J. A.; Carrasco, J, and Aníbal, C. 2007. Realidad imitada, modelo imaginado o revisión de las tradiciones orientalizantes en tiempos ibéricos, a través de la crátera de columnas de Atalayuelas (Fuerte del Rey/ Torredelcampo, Jaén). Antiqvitas, nº18-20: 17-42. Pellicer, M. and Schüle, W. 1962. Cerro del Real (Galera). Excavaciones Arqueológicas en España, 12. Madrid. Pereira, J., Chapa, T., Madrigal, A., Uriarte, A., and Mayoral, V. 2004: La Necrópolis ibérica de Galera (Granada). La colección del Museo Arqueológico Nacional, Madrid: Ministerio de Cultura. Prados, L. 1992. Exvotos ibéricos de bronce del Museo Arqueológico Nacional. Madrid. Rodríguez-Ariza, Mª O.; Rueda, C. and Gómez, F. 2008. El posible santuario periurbano de Tutugi: el cerro del Castillo (Galera, Granada). In A. Adroher y J. Blánquez (Ed.): Ier Congreso Internacional de Arqueología Ibérica Bastetana, Serie Varia 9: 187-204. Madrid. Rodríguez-Ariza, Mª O. 2014. La necrópolis ibérica de Tútugi (2000-2012), CAAI Textos 6. Jaén: Universidad de Jaén. Rouillard, P. 1994. L’usage des vases grecs chez les Ibères. In P. Cabrera, R. Olmos and E. Sanmartí (eds.), Lecturas desde la diversidad. Simposio celebrado en Ampurias, 1991. Vol. I: 263-274. Huelva. Rueda, C. 2008. Las imágenes de los santuarios de Cástulo: los exvotos ibéricos en bronce de Collado de los Jardines (Santa Elena) y Los Altos del Sotillo (Castellar). Palaeohispánica 8: 55-87. Rueda, C. 2011. Territorio, culto e iconografía en los santuarios iberos del Alto Guadalquivir (ss. IV a.n.e.-I d.n.e.).Textos CAAI nº 3. Jaén: Universidad de Jaén. Rueda, C. 2013. Ritos de paso de edad y ritos nupciales en la religiosidad ibera: algunos casos de estudio. In Rísquez, C. & Rueda, C. (eds.), Santuarios Iberos: territorio, ritualidad y memoria. Actas del Congreso El santuario de La Cueva de la Lobera de Castellar. 1912-2012: 341-383. Jaén. Rueda, C. and Olmos, R. 2015. Las cráteras áticas de la cámara principesca de Piquía (Arjona): los vasos de la memoria de uno de los últimos linajes iberos. In A. Ruiz and M. Molinos (eds.), Jaén, tierra ibera. 40 años de investigación y transferencia: 375-391. Jaén: Universidad de Jaén. Rueda, C. and Grau, I. In press. Edad, ritos de paso y memoria: símbolos de iniciación en la cerámica ática del espacio religioso ibero. In X. Aquilué, P. Cabrera and M. Orfila (Eds.) Homenaje a la Dra. Glòria Trias Rubiés. Miscelánea Arqueológica con motivo del cincuentenario de la edición de su libro Cerámicas griegas de la Península Ibérica (1967-2017). Girona: Centro Iberia Graeca. Ruiz, A., Molinos, M., Fernández, R., Pérez, M. and Rueda, C. 2015 El santuario de la Puerta del Sol. In Ruiz, A y Molinos, M (eds.), Jaén, tierra ibera. 40 años de investigación y transferencia: 93-106. Jaén: Universidad de Jaén. Ruiz A., Molinos, M., Rísquez, C., Gómez, F. and Lechuga, M. A. 2015. La cámara de Piquía (Arjona, Jaén), In Ruiz, A y Molinos, M (eds.), Jaén, tierra ibera. 40 años de investigación y transferencia: 357-374. Jaén: Universidad de Jaén.

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Shefton, B. B. 1991. Comentarios a ‘apuntes ibéricos’. Trabajos de Prehistoria 48: 309-312. Stella, L. A. 1956. Mitologia greca. Torino: Ed. Torinese. Trías, G. 1967-1968, Cerámicas griegas en la Península Ibérica, 2 vols. Valencia.

Sánchez, C. 1997. Imágenes de la muerte en una tumba ibérica. Boletín del Museo Arqueológico Nacional, Tomo 15, nº 1-2: 37-48. Sánchez, C. 2000. Vasos griegos para los príncipes ibéricos. In P. Cabrera and C. Sánchez (eds.) Los griegos en España: tras las huellas de Heracles: 179-193. Madrid.

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An Overview of Brazilian Studies on Greek Pottery: Tradition and Future Perspectives Carolina Kesser Barcellos Dias1 and Camila Diogo de Souza2 The 1 study 2 of Greek pottery traditionally occupies a prominent place in the area of Classics in Brazil. One of the few Departments dedicated to Classical Archeology, the Museum of Archeology and Ethnology of the University of São Paulo (MAE-USP), is responsible for the training of many scholars currently active in the diffusion and dissemination of this academic field. This institution, MAE, holds one of the main researchers in Classical Archaeology, Professor Haiganuch Sarian,3 responsible for the consolidation of this field countrywide from 1970 onwards. Her scientific contribution covers different areas, including Ancient History, Archeology and Philology, as well as studies of museum and private collections and curatorship. In Classical Archeology, she stands out in the development of studies in Greek Ceramology, particularly in iconography, contributing to methodological approaches and theoretical reflections on pottery analyses. Her long-term dissertation supervisions and teaching in undergraduate and graduate programs provided important research which are references for different approaches to the ceramic material culture4 in the country and even worldwide.

developed in the country, as well as together with other researchers from national and foreign institutions. The LECA was established as a Permanent Extension Project based on the Institute of Human Sciences of the Federal University of Pelotas (ICH / UFPel). The laboratory is an interdisciplinary workspace for research projects, open to Brazilian interinstitutional and international collaborations. It is also a center for training new researchers in the field of Ceramology in Brazil, offering research and teaching tools and means for undergraduate and graduate levels. The main objective of the laboratory is to contribute to the strengthening and development of scientific productions on Classical Antiquity, with focus on research that promotes the use documentary and material sources. Our aim is to reflect and contribute to a better understanding of the meaning, uses and functions of this kind of material culture (pottery) as a living part of culture, history and anthropology of ancient societies. Focused on technical and morphological aspects, such as shapes, dimensions, technology, confection technics of decoration and painting processes, chronological styles and typological classification of non-figured and figured motifs, attribution and workshops, schools and centers of production, LECA has already promoted many activities, such as study groups, courses and lectures to develop this field of research in Brazil.5 In this sense, the laboratory has improved methodological approaches and theoretical discussions about pottery analyses creating tools to produce and spread knowledge of this area and reach a wider public audience.

However, the scarcity of institutions and departments dedicated to studies in Classical Archaeology was responsible for inhibiting the growing number of Brazilian scholars dedicated to the study of ancient pottery and the interest of foreign institutions in supporting and establishing partnerships with Brazilian research on Ceramology. In addition, international cooperation, dissemination of scientific works in the area, and stimulation of new studies depend on institutional support. Until 2011, there was no laboratory or research center in the country dedicated exclusively to the studies of ancient ceramic material, and the Brazilian scientific production on this material was restricted to postgraduate and specialization programs and courses, mainly through individual efforts of researchers who were able to acquire part of their background abroad. Thus, the Laboratório de Estudos sobre a Cerâmica Antiga (LECA) was conceived with the main objective of promoting a space for research on ancient pottery to be

From 2012 to 2016, the post-doctoral research project ‘Material Culture and Society: the contribution of ceramic material and its interfaces to the study of the ancient Greek society’,6 had as its main objective to create methodological instruments that could provide a better and in-depth understanding of the relations between material culture and society in ancient Greece, in particular ceramic material. In other words, methodological and analytical resources were proposed for systematic study on material remains related to pottery production through different approaches and perspectives (iconographic and technical), in order to improve the knowledge acquired through textual sources and

Postdoctoral associate, Laboratório de Estudos sobre a Cerâmica Antiga (LECA) / Universidade Federal de Pelotas (UFPel) [email protected] 2  Postdoctoral associate, Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology / University of São Paulo (MAE / USP); Laboratório de Estudos sobre a Cerâmica Antiga (LECA) / Universidade Federal de Pelotas (UFPel) [email protected] 3  Full Professor at the Museum of Archeology and Ethnology of the University of São Paulo (MAE-USP). Ancien Membre de l’École Française d’Athènes. For her backgroud history and scientific production: BRUNO; CERQUEIRA; FUNARI, 2013:13-29. 4  It is not our aim in this article to list all the Brazilian bibliography in Greek Ceramology. We selected some titles that exemplify the main academic production in this field. 1 

The LECA’s coordinators supervise undergraduate and postgraduate research in History and Archeology. Since the creation of the laboratory in 2011, two master’s dissertations and three undergraduate monographs have been defended dealing with the main research subject of the Laboratory, i.e. iconography. See note 7 below. 6  Postdoctoral research project developed by Carolina Kesser Barcellos Dias, in the History Post-graduate program of the Federal University of Pelotas (UFPel), financially supported by DOCFIX Fapergs/CAPES. 5 

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Figure 1. LECA official course ‘Introduction to the studies on Greek pottery’. Exercises in interpretation, cataloging, drawing and photography of pieces from the Museum of Archeology and Ethnology of the University of São Paulo (MAE-USP). São Paulo, MAE-USP, July 2015. LECA Archive.

from Ceramic workshop of the Faculty of Arts of the Federal University of Pelotas. It held four main sections involving Experimental Archaeology with technology in pottery production, fabrication processes (hand-made and wheelmade) (Figure 2), surface treatments, decoration and firing process (open and pit firing and kilns).

bibliographical references about social, political, economic and ideological organization. In addition to the activities developed by the laboratory regarding research supervisions and project supports – which will be discussed in more detail in the following pages – an official LECA course was created entitled ‘Introduction to the studies on Greek pottery’ (Figure 1). It was taught in foreign and Brazilian academic institutions.7 This course has a set of lectures that can be summarized as a short-period course, mini-course, diffusion or university extension course, optional course in undergraduate and postgraduate disciplines. We aim to promote and discuss different approaches to methodological analyses on Greek pottery studies trough historiographical perspectives.

Exercises in interpretation, cataloging, drawing and photography of pieces (entire vases and fragments) from Brazilian museum collections,8 and from replicas (Figure 3) and 3D modeling were part of the activities of the Laboratory as well. For the creation of the 3D models, we worked in collaboration with Dr. Alex Martire, researcher of the Laboratório de Arqueologia Romana Provincial (LARP) at the University of São Paulo (USP), who is responsible for the digital scanning and printing of artefacts from MAE’s

In 2016, the course was offered to undergraduate students as elective lectures entitled ‘An Introduction to Ancient Greek Pottery: from theory to practice’ in collaboration with professors

The Mediterranean collections at MAE-USP and the Museu Nacional do Rio de Janeiro (MNRJ) at the Federal University of Rio de Janeiro (UFRJ) are the two main Greek pottery collections in Brazil. LESSA, 2006 and CHEVITARESE, 2003 are examples of Attic vases publications of the MNRJ’s collection, as well the exhibition catalogue MUSEU NACIONAL DO RJ, 1999. From MAE’s collection about Cypriote pottery we can mention TORRALVO and ALEGRETTE, 1995; amphorae and vase inscriptions, FUNARI, 2001 and terracotta figurines, HIRATA, 1992, 1998. More titles about studies on these collections can be found in the Appendix. 8 

The first version of the course was taught in 2012 at UFPel. Other versions were offered by the coordinators in many Brazilian universities (DIAS; SOUZA; CERQUEIRA, 2014), and in foreign universities including the Universidad de la República, Uruguay in 2015, and the Universidade de Évora and Universidade de Coimbra, Portugal in 2017. 7 

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collection. He printed in ABS plastic filament a small collection of traditional Greek shape vases for didactic purposes to be used during the classes of LECA’s course. The importance of interdisciplinary approaches to the construction of historical knowledge of ancient Greek society were explored through case studies and discussions on production techniques, chronologies, environment of use and archaeological context, shape vases, nomenclature, style, decoration, iconography, artist and workshop identification, enable the understanding of the significance of this specific kind of material culture and its functions and uses.

Figure 2. ‘An Introduction to Ancient Greek Pottery: from theory to practice’. Throwing demonstration at the Ceramic workshop of the Faculty of Arts of the Federal University of Pelotas, November 2015. LECA Archive.

LECA is also conducting research projects which deals with digital databases for research and public access. The Drawing Database of LECA will create a digital database that includes discussions about drawing methodology of pottery in general, drawing techniques of archaeological record, and knowledge production based on imagery sources. The project main goal is the compilation of a database as a comparative tool for the analysis of material culture, specifically of Greek pottery production during the Geometric, Archaic and Classical periods. This chronology builds on the access to photographic material and drawings elaborated and collected in research on Greek pottery developed by Brazilian scholars (Figures 4 - 6) who are associate researchers of the LECA-UFPel.9 For the classical historian-archaeologist who deals with material records, especially ceramic artefacts, one of the main challenges is to make it a document, a physical source of information about the society that produced, consumed and disposed of it.10 The systematization of the various information included in pottery material is one of the fundamental elements guiding their readings, approaches and interpretations. Description and typological classification based on morphological, chronological, technical and stylistic aspects of material culture, are two of the main methodological instruments for the production of archaeological knowledge.11 Recent electronic innovations have brought many contributions to researchers through interrelated computer software database analyses widening the access to archaeological information and disseminating knowledge. These databases enable future

Figure 3. LECA official course ‘Introduction to the studies on Greek pottery’. Exercises in interpretation, cataloging, drawing and photography of replicas and fragments. Pelotas, Federal University of Pelotas, LECA-UFPel, April 2015. LECA Archive.

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CERQUEIRA, 2001, 2014; DIAS, 2009; SOUZA, 2011. MENESES, 1983. 11  DUNNELL, 2007. 9 

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Carolina Kesser Barcellos Dias and Camila Diogo de Souza – An Overview of Brazilian Studies on Greek Pottery

Figure 4. Drawing Database of LECA: FileMaker record. Carolina Kesser Barcellos Dias. Thesis dissertation: ‘The Gela Painter: morphological and stylistic, decorative and iconographical characteristics’. 2009 (Record no. 72). research perspectives, new readings and interpretations of the same sample of objects to be examined. Thus, they have a fundamental role for the elaboration of reference catalogues and for a greater variability of interpretations.

The main online database for studies on Greek pottery, the Beazley Archive, hosted at http://www.beazley.ox.ac.uk/index. htm, provides the most complete, easiest and fastest access to researchers. It includes all published information about the Attic vase production. Inspired by this model, we intend to construct research tools in Portuguese in order to provide access to archaeological data to Brazilian scholars. The purpose is to dialogue with international databases established insofar to develop, improve and encourage research on Greek pottery in the Brazilian academic community.

This kind of virtual and computer based knowledge production has been widely developed in the last decades and its main objectives are to enable a wider access to information and discuss statistical approaches to archaeological record interpretations in the historical knowledge production.12 It is necessary to reflect on the objectives, uses and limitations of such methodological instruments for the academic community and for scientific research as a whole, as well as the issues of public access to information.13

In this sense, the LECA drawing database aims to address and offer possible solutions to these issues through the elaboration of databases that are more easily accessible to the academic and public audiences. This documentation will be available for online consultation at the official LECA website – Portal LECA – which will host the databases. The project for the construction of the website was contemplated in 2011 with the award of the announcement made by the Society of Brazilian Archaeology (Sociedade de Arqueologia Brasileira – Edital SAB / 2011) and, currently, the Portal LECA can be reached at http://leca.ufpel.edu.br/.

Greek pottery databases have been developed by academic research as an important tool for classifying and analyzing material culture, but in most cases these tools remain tied to personal, commonly inaccessible research. Their publication is restricted by the availability of platforms and proprietary software. In addition, archaeological material belonging to public and private collections always involves copyright and image rights which hinder accessibility.

12  13 

Finally, the Project involving the study, cataloguing and analysis of ceramic material of MAE-USP collection, is coordinated by the authors of this paper and is interinstitutional project involving two universities. This didactic and research project

GERREAU, 2004. DIAS; SOUZA; VERGARA, 2016.

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Figure 5. Drawing Database of LECA: drawing of oenochoe C. 7352 made by sketch technique and on vector graphics and image design software (Illustrator). FileMaker record of oenochoe C. 7352. Camila Diogo de Souza. Postdoctoral research: ‘Tombes Géométriques d’Argos II’ – École Française d’Athènes (2011-2014). Drawings made by Yannis Nakas. involved the study of Greek pottery fragments of the MMORT2 collection belonging to MAE-USP. The fragments were taken from São Paulo to Pelotas for systematic analysis and cataloguing of this unpublished material from MAE’s collection. The proposal has two main goals: first, to promote teaching activities among LECA’s students based at UFPel and at MAEUSP, and second, to develop research in the field of Ceramology in Brazilian university centers which do not have museum collections of Greek pottery for archaeological research.

MAE-USP, also members of the LECA, carried out the same detailed study of the remaining lots in MAE’s laboratory under the supervision of Camila Diogo de Souza, PhD. These didactic and research activities enable students to apply their academic background, providing them with necessary practical experience with technical, theoretical and methodological instruments of analysis of ceramic material in the area of ​​Mediterranean archeology, particularly in methodological approaches to the study of Greek pottery.

Approximately 200 fragments of Greek pottery from different periods, decoration styles and production centers were analyzed to create a reference database with comparanda (Figure 7 - 8). This database presents illustrative morphological profiles and iconographical motif examples of traditional Greek vase shapes of different chronological and stylistic repertoire.

In addition to teaching objectives, as a third purpose of this project, we will select some of the fragments studied in order to create an artificial ‘stratigraphy’ that chronologically represents all the different periods of the Greek pottery production, with examples from Neolithic, Bronze Age and Helladic Period, Iron Age, Geometric, Archaic, Classic, Hellenistic and Byzantine Periods. This ‘ceramic stratigraphy’ of Ancient Greek vase painting will become a ‘showcase’ with a great didactical instrument potential, since it can be used for different activities in the classroom during undergraduate and postgraduate courses at MAE-USP and other institutions in Brazil. Besides, this ‘showcase’ can also be widely used in workshops, mini-courses and teacher training of primary and secondary schools in order to complement the background of teachers and students about the History and Archaeology of Greece. Finally, this teaching material may also be used

This project was carried out by borrowing lots of 50 and 80 fragments from the MMO-RT2 collection during 2015 and 2016. Each group of sherds was systematically analyzed by LECA members, undergraduate and postgraduate students, under the supervision of Carolina Kesser Barcellos Dias, PhD, in order to develop and complement their academic background in the area of ​​Mediterranean archeology through theoretical and methodological analysis of pottery material. Additionally, undergraduate and graduate students from

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Figure 6. Drawing Database of LECA: drawing made by tracing technique. Fábio Vergara Cerqueira. Research Project (ongoing): ‘Iconographical representations and musical instruments on Apulian vase paintings: Greek-indigenous intercultural relations in Magna Graecia’ (5th and 6th centuries B.C.)’. in temporary exhibitions organized in other Brazilian institutions. This part of the project is still a work in progress.

and innovative aspects of LECA proposals, we call attention to the elaboration and dissemination of these databases as research instruments based on software specifically developed for the construction of interrelated information analysis and systematization criteria of ceramic material.

Final Remarks Although their emergence as disciplines in Brazilian universities is recent, Classics and Ceramology have been developed as undergraduate and graduate research for 40 years. This tradition of studies was begun in theoretical discussions and methodological approaches very closely related to European schools, especially concerning iconographic studies on Greek vase painting. However, thanks to a maturation process of Archaeology in general as a discipline in Brazil and to a greater interest of Brazilian scholars in Greek pottery, this academic field has strengthened and became more dynamic, constantly promoting dialogues between Brazilian and foreign experts from different areas in a very consistent and richer interdisciplinary approach.

Classification and typological analyses for pottery artifacts have been continuously debated and developed by the laboratory through research projects and teaching activities, such as courses on Greek pottery taught by the coordinators of LECA and the study of the fragments from MMO-RT2 collection at MAE-USP. We intend to develop a methodological approach particularly applied as an interdisciplinary ceramic analysis which could offer some options for nomenclatures, expressions and vocabulary used for morphological, technical and decorative descriptions of Greek vases in scientific research and publications. From LECA’s perspectives, these methodologies14 include the understanding of morphological aspects, local (regional),

Concerning the scientific contributions of LECA, we can highlight the discussions and reflections on methodologies and perspectives of systematization of ceramic material and, consequently, the production of data and drawing corpora to be published in software databases in the public domain. This will allow different research perspectives on Greek pottery from different chronological styles. With regard to technological

Undergraduate and graduate monographs and dissertations employ the methodology developed by LECA, for instance; HORA, ongoing thesis about black and red-figure style in Thasos; MARTINS, 2015 and SEGER, 2015 on red-figure Attic pottery production; CARDERARO, 2016 about pottery from Campania; LOPES, 2016 on Apulian vases; and SABADINI, 2016 about Attic Geometric production. 14 

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Figure 7. Project of study and cataloguing ceramic material of MAE-USP collection: an exercise of analysis: FileMaker record with description of fragment number 75/2.12.

Figure 8. Project of study and cataloguing ceramic material of MAE-USP collection: an exercise of analysis: FileMaker record with description of the fragment 75/2.54. stylistic and chronological variations of vase productions and visual culture characteristics, i.e. the image in relation to its physical support. They also involve the contexts of manufacture, use, disposal of the artifact and the elaboration

of categories that systemize the process of describing the pieces (vases and fragments) according to their materiality: shape, surface treatment and ornamental aspects, paste components (Archaeometry) and ceramic colour, firing

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processes and other technical aspects. This systematic information must be registered in order to elaborate an ‘identity card’ of each object, in which the description is accompanied by archaeological drawings and photographs. Exhaustive bibliographical references for comparanda must also be included in order to provide information on workshops and centers of production and recognition of chronological styles.

Dias, Carolina Kesser B.; Seger, Dayanne Dockhorn; Ogawa, Milena Rosa Araújo. 2017. Projeto Pipoca Clássica: o uso do cinema como ferramenta para discussão e ensino da Antiguidade Clássica. Revista História Hoje, v. 6, nº 12, p. 158-176. Dias, Carolina Kesser. B; Souza, Camila Diogo; Vergara, F. C. 2016. Recursos digitales y producción de conocimiento histórico fundado en evidencias materiales. Reflexiones sobre la elaboración de bases de datos para investigaciones en Arqueología clásica. In: Bresciano, Juan Andrés; Gil, Tiago. (Orgs.). La Historiografía ante el Giro Digital. Reflexiones teóricas y prácticas metodológicas. 1ed. Montevidéu: Ediciones Cruz del Sur, v. 1, p. 135-178. Dias, Carolina Kesser B.; Souza, Camila Diogo; Cerqueira, Fábio Vergara. 2014. Laboratório de Estudos sobre a Cerâmica Antiga - LECA / UFPel. Cadernos do LEPAARQ (UFPEL), v. 11, p. 223-232. Dias, Carolina Kesser B. 2009. O Pintor de Gela. Características formais e estilísticas, decorativas e iconográficas. São Paulo: Universidade de São Paulo, 2 vols. (Tese de Doutorado). Dunnell, Robert C. 2007. Classificação em Arqueologia. São Paulo: Editora da USP. Tradução de Astolfo G. M. Araújo. Fleming, Maria Isabel D’A.; Bina, Tatiana; Teixeira-Bastos, Márcio; Martire, Alex; Gregori, Alessandro M. 2017. A Importância das Novas Tecnologias para a Arqueologia e suas Possibilidade de Uso. A Impressão 3D e os Projetos do LARP. VESTÍGIOS - Revista Latino-Americana de Arqueologia Histórica, v. 11, p. 57-79. Gerreau Esbach, K. L.; Ossa, A. Archaeological Data. Curation and the Use of Legacy Databases. In https://www. academia.edu/1542155/Archaeological_Data_Curation_ and_the_Use_of_Legacy_Databases. Access in 05.15.2014. Lessa, Fábio de Souza. 2006. Corpo e esporte em Atenas: análise de uma enócoa do Museu Nacional da UFRJ. PHOÎNIX, Rio de Janeiro, 12, p. 105-119. Lopes, Andréia da Rocha. 2016. A harpa e o feminino na Magna Grécia: iconografia dos instrumentos musicais na pintura dos vasos ápulos (sécs. V e IV a. C.). Pelotas: Bacharelado em História, Universidade Federal de Pelotas (Monografia de Conclusão de Curso). Martins, Fernanda Barcellos. 2015. Reflexões acerca do papel de Eros no universo feminino: estudo iconográfico do lebes gamikos no período clássico. Pelotas: Bacharelado em História, Universidade Federal de Pelotas (Monografia de Conclusão de Curso). Meneses, Ulpiano Toledo Bezerra. 1983. Cultura material no estudo das sociedades antigas. Revista de História, São Paulo, n.115, p. 103-117. Museu Nacional Do Rio de Janeiro. Cerâmicas antigas da Quinta da Boa Vista. RJ: Museu Nacional de Belas Artes, 1996: pp. 31-38. Sabadini, Francisco de Assis. A Cerâmica Geométrica da Ática (1100-700 a.C.): Tradição e Inovação. São Paulo: Universidade de São Paulo, 2010, 3 vols. (Dissertação de Mestrado). Seger, Dayanne Dockhorn. 2015. Olhares antigos e modernos: a ideologia e a representação feminina em contextos de trabalho na Atenas clássica. Pelotas: Bacharelado em AntropologiaArquelogia, Universidade Federal de Pelotas (Monografia de Conclusão de Curso). Souza, Camila Diogo. 2010. As práticas mortuárias na região da Argólida entre os séculos XI e VIII a. C. São Paulo: Universidade de São Paulo, 2010, 3 vols. (Tese de Doutorado).

It is, therefore, with the understanding of the object and its materiality that it becomes possible to reach to the various functions, roles, interactions and meanings of this kind of material culture in the society and it is also viable to produce and publicize knowledge based on new technologies. The body and soul of LECA are to encourage and promote meetings and discussions about Greek pottery and its importance to knowledge construction processes of ancient societies as a growing interest beyond university boundaries, not restricted to archaeologists, ancient historians, experts in Classics and Ceramology, but for a general and wider public as well.15 Bibliography Bruno, Maria Cristina O.; Cerqueira, Fábio Vergara; Funari, Pedro Paulo 2001. A. Arqueologia do Mediterrâneo Antigo. Estudos em homenagem a Haiganuch Sarian. São Paulo: Museu de Arqueologia e Etnologia da Universidade de São Paulo: FAPESP: SBEC. Carderaro, Lidiane Carolina. 2016. Variações da imagem de Apolo citaredo na cerâmica de influência grega produzida na Campânia entre os séculos IV e III a.C. Pelotas: Programa de Pós-Graduação em História, Universidade Federal de Pelotas (Dissertação de Mestrado). Cerqueira, Fábio Vergara. 2001. Os instrumentos musicais na vida diária da Atenas tardo-arcaica e clássica (550-400 a.C.). O testemunho de vasos áticos e de textos antigos. São Paulo: Universidade de São Paulo, 3 vols. (Tese de Doutorado). Chevitarese, Andre Leonardo. 2003. Mulheres, espaço rural, e o pintor de Haimon. Análise do lécito ático do Museu Nacional do Rio de Janeiro. PHOÎNIX, Rio de Janeiro, 9, p. 37-54. Correia, Larissa Souza. 2015. Representações de Atena em ânforas de figuras negras do século VI a.C.: um exercício de análise iconográfica. São Paulo: Universidade de Santo Amaro (Monografia de Conclusão da Especialização).

The laboratory also develops many activities and projects involving the non-academic public. For instance, the Pipoca Clássica project which aims at cinematographic exhibitions with multidisciplinary discussions. Additionally, since 2015, LECA focus on a juvenile audience from public schools (DIAS; SEGER; OGAWA, 2017) and in 2017 develops ‘O Barro’ project. This project deals with the use of clay and its importance for social and historical daily human activities through cinematographic production, movies, documentaries, short films from different historical and chronological contexts. The young audience will be encouraged to reflect upon the relationship between pottery and people. From a ludic and pleasant strategy, this project targets didactic approaches to ceramic material for juveniles aiming at our responsibilities as educators and the generic public as well. 15 

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Appendix

Revista do MAE, Anais II da Semana de Arqueologia v. 11, pp. 133-137. Dias, Carolina Kesser B. 2009. Apontamentos sobre a atribuição de vasos áticos: a produção do Pintor de Gela. Revista do MAE, v.19. São Paulo, p. 235-255. Dias, Carolina Kesser B. 2009. Abordagens metodológicas para o estudo de vasos gregos: a atribuição e a análise iconográfica. Revista Eletrônica Antiguidade Clássica, v. 004, p. 47-65. Dias, Carolina Kesser B. 2009. A organização das oficinas de cerâmica em Atenas. Revista Litteris, v. 3, p. 22/1-14. Francisco, Gilberto da Silva. 2012. Panatenaicas: tradição, permanência e derivação. São Paulo: Universidade de São Paulo (Tese de Doutorado). Francisco, Gilberto da Silva. 2008. Grafismos gregos: escrita e figuração na cerâmica ática do período arcaico (do século VIIVI a.C.). Revista do Museu de Arqueologia e Etnologia, Suplemento 6. São Paulo: Imprensa Oficial. Funari, Pedro Paulo A. 2001. MAE-USP amphora collection: vessels and inscriptions. Revista do MAE, 11, São Paulo: USP, p. 275-282. Hirata, Elaine Farias V. 1992. Os prótomos femininos de Gela: uma proposta de interpretação. Revista do MAE, 2, São Paulo: USP, p. 49-61. Hirata, Elaine Farias V. 1998. Terracotas tarentinas e o Culto Heróico em uma área colonial. Revista do MAE, 8, São Paulo: USP, p. 129-143. Lessa, Fábio de Souza; Sousa, Renata Cardoso. 2015. O agôn esportivo na cerâmica ática do período clássico. PHOÎNIX, Rio de Janeiro, 21-1, p.72-85. Lessa, Fábio de Souza; Guimarães Neto, Edson Moreira. 2009. Atletas na imagética ática do século V a. C. PHOÎNIX, Rio de Janeiro, 15-1, p. 26-41. Lessa, Fábio de Souza. 2005. Atividades esportivas nas imagens áticas. PHOÎNIX, Rio de Janeiro, 11, p. 57-70. Regis, Maria Fernanda Brunieri. 2009. Mulheres nos sympósia: representações femininas nas cenas de banquete nos vasos áticos (séculos VI ao IV a. C.). Revista do Museu de Arqueologia e Etnologia, Suplemento 9. São Paulo: Imprensa Oficial. Sarian, Haiganuch. 1993. Poiêin-gráphein: o estatuto social do artesão-artista de vasos áticos. Revista do MAE 3. São Paulo: USP, p. 105 - 120. Sarian, Haiganuch. 1984. A cerâmica como documento arqueológico. Revista de Pré-História número 6. São Paulo: Universidade de São Paulo, pp. 196-204. Seger, Dayanne Dockhorn; Dias, Carolina Kesser B. 2017. A representação feminina nos vasos cerâmicos áticos: o discurso iconográfico como método para novas reflexões. Cadernos do LEPAARQ, Vol. 14, n. 27, p. 133-156. Souza, Camila Diogo. 2015. A Arte Geométrica grega: considerações sobre a análise dos motivos figurados do repertório iconográfico geométrico argivo (900 a 700 a.C. aproximadamente). CALÍOPE (UFRJ), v. 1, p. 61-87. Souza, Camila Diogo. 2015. Les motifs ornementaux nonfigurés des vases à figures noires de la collection du Musée Royal de l’Ontario, Toronto, Canada: éléments iconographiques de tradition Géométrique? Interfaces Brasil/Canadá, v. 15, p. 211-251. Souza, Camila Diogo. (2015). As representações da morte na arte geométrica grega do século VIII a.C.: expressões de identidade coletiva ou individual. In: Ortega, A. M.;

Selected Bibliography Carderaro, Lidiane Carolina; Cerqueira, Fábio Vergara. 2017. A imagem do jovem músico em agones musicais através da iconografia de vasos áticos. Cadernos do LEPAARQ (UFPEL), v. 14, p. 157-182. Cerqueira, Fábio Vergara; Dias, Carolina Kesser B. (orgs.). 2015. Dossiê: Os vasos gregos do Museu Arqueológico de Ontário, Toronto. Interfaces Brasil/Canadá, v. 15. Cerqueira, Fábio Vergara. 2015. The presence of music in Greek worship: An iconographical approach. Chaos e Kosmos, v. XV, p. 01-40. Cerqueira, Fábio Vergara. 2014. Iconographical Representations of Musical Instruments in Apulian VasePainting as Ethnical Signs: Intercultural Greek-Indigenous Relations in Magna Graecia (5th and 4th Centuries B.C.). Greek and Roman Musical Studies, v. 2, p. 50-67. Cerqueira, Fábio Vergara. 2014. Abordagens mitológicas na iconografia funerária da cerâmica ática (510 - 450 a.C.): repensando a periodização. Classica: São Paulo, v. 27, p. 83-128. Cerqueira, Fábio Vergara. 2010. Digressões sobre o sentido e a interpretação das narrativas iconográficas dos vasos áticos: o caso das representações de instrumentos musicais. Revista do MAE, v. 20, p. 219-233. Cerqueira, Fábio Vergara. 2005. O testemunho da iconografia dos vasos áticos dos séculos VI e V a.C.: Fundamentação teórica para sua interpretação como fonte para o conhecimento da cultura e sociedade da Grécia Antiga. História em Revista (UFPel), Pelotas/RS, v. Especial, p. 1-222. Cerqueira, Fábio Vergara. 2005. Esporte e música na Grécia Antiga:uma abordagem baseada na interface entre a iconografia dos vasos áticos e os textos antigos. Classica: São Paulo, Rio de Janeiro, v. 17, n.17, p. 165-183. Cerqueira, Fábio Vergara. 2000. A Iconografia dos vasos gregos antigos como fonte histórica. História em Revista (UFPel), Pelotas, v. 6, p. 85-96. Correia, Larissa Souza; Souza, Camila Diogo. 2015. Representações de Atena em ânforas de figuras negras do século VI a.C.: um exercício de análise iconográfica. Revista do MAE, v.25. São Paulo, p. 83-103. Dias, Carolina Kesser B. 2015. ‘Les petits vases moches’ du Musée Royal de l Ontario. Interfaces Brasil/Canadá, v. 15, p. 280-307. Dias, Carolina Kesser B. 2014. Iconografia dionisíaca nos lécitos áticos de figuras negras do final do período arcaico (sécs. VI e V a.c.). PHOÎNIX, Rio de Janeiro, 20-2, p. 45-59. Dias, Carolina Kesser B. 2014. Artistic relations between attic vases producers from 510 to 475 B.C. reviewed by the attribution methodology. In: Oosterbeek, Luis; Fidalgo. Cláudia (Orgs.). Mobility and Transitions in the Holocene. 1 ed. Oxford: Archaeopress - Publishers of British Archaeological Reports, v. 9, p. 81-84. Dias, Carolina Kesser B. 2011. Atribuir ou não atribuir é uma questão? Comentários sobre a metodologia de atribuição de vasos de figuras negras do final do arcaísmo. Revista do MAE, n.21, p. 395-400. Dias, Carolina Kesser B. 2011. Reflexões acerca das relações artísticas entre produtores de vasos áticos (510-475 a. C.).

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Peloggia, A. U. (Orgs.). Entre o Arcaico e o Contemporâneo: ensaios fluindo entre Arqueologia, Psicanálise, Antropologia e Geologia. 1ed. São Paulo: IGLU Editora, v. 1, p. 81-118. Souza, Camila Diogo. 2010. As Práticas Mortuárias na região da Argólida entre os séculos XI e VIII a.C. Revista do Museu

de Arqueologia e Etnologia, Suplemento 13. São Paulo: Imprensa Oficial. Torralvo, Ana Claudia; Allegrette, Alvaro Hashizume. 1995. A coleção cipriota do MAE-USP: os exemplares da Idade do Bronze. Revista do MAE, 8, São Paulo: USP, p. 235-249.

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Sculptures and Coins: A Contextual Case Study from Side Alice Landskron1 Archaeological Research at the Site of Side

Numerous1 sculptures and sculptural fragments have been found at the site of Side in Pamphylia during the excavations since 1947; these are now on display in the Archaeological Museum in Side.2 In this paper I will focus on the evidence of the sculpture in Side, especially on the sculpture types which are featured on coins - mainly from Side itself - and on the historical context of the emissions.3 Furthermore, the aim of the paper is to contextualize the emission of coins featuring ideal sculpture types, the sculptural evidence in Side and the historical background by presenting and discussing a few examples.

Most of the sculptures and sculptural fragments were excavated in the years from 1947-1966 by the excavation team of Arif Müfid Mansel and Jale İnan. These findings and some recently excavated sculptures provide the material basis of the research project.10 A great many sculptures from Side can be dated to the Roman imperial period, whereby the production of most of the ideal sculpture was concentrated in the 2nd and 3rd c. AD. A number of pieces date to Late Antiquity (4th/5th c. AD), a period when some of the sculptures were also reused and re-worked.11 The majority of the portraits date to the 3rd and 4th centuries AD.12

Remarks on the History of Side4

A large number of the sculptures from Side were found in the ancient ruins in an architectural context and are now preserved in the Archaeological Museum at Side.13 Several sculptures were unearthed in the so-called Building M (Figure 1, map no. 25; Figure 2), some in the nymphaeum (Figure 1, map no. 3) and in the so-called Three-pooled fountain (Figure 1, map no. 13), at the city gate, in the temple area at the harbour (temple of Apollo and Athena, Figure 1, map no. 18/19),14 in the theatre (Figure 1, map no. 11), along the colonnaded street (Figure 1, map no. 15), at the Monument of Vespasian and at the agora (Figure 1, map no. 10). The majority of sculptures came to light in the so-called Building M (Figure 2), a central building on the east side of a large court.15 For this building some scholars have proposed the function of a library or even a ‘Kaisersaal’ or a Museion, the latter connected with the typical building in the prosperous period of the Second Sophistic during the 2nd c. AD in Asia Minor.16 Comparative studies on the sculptures (ideal sculpture, statues, and portraiture), the find spots and the context of similar buildings constructed in other cities, where the construction of a Museion is proven by epigraphical sources, will provide further knowledge and understanding in this matter.17

The ancient port-town of Side in Pamphylia is located near the modern city of Manavgat, east of Antalya on the south coast of Turkey. It was populated by Greek settlers from the Aeolian city of Cyme in the 7th century BC.5 The city was part of the First Persian satrapy since the late 6th c. BC and remained autonomous during this period of time until Side was conquered by Alexander the Great in 334 BC. The harbour town came to prominence after the Roman allies, the Rhodians, triumphed over Hannibal in 190 BC.6 Side is located on the trade route to Egypt and the Levant, favouring an economic growth of the antique harbour especially in the 2nd/3rd c. and also in the 4th c. AD.7 During this period of time Side developed into one of the richest cities in the region of Pamphylia and among other cities of the south coast of Asia Minor.8 The city coped successfully with the disruptive invasions of the Gothic tribes in the second half of the 3rd c. AD, and of the Isauran people in the mid-4th c. AD, and eventually enjoyed a new era of prosperity.9 When Side became a metropolis in the early 5th c. AD, a period of prosperity lasted until the Arab invasion in the 7th c. AD.

Most of the sculptures from Side were published in 1975 by Jale İnan, the Turkish archaeologist and director of the

[email protected] The fragments are stored in the depots of the Museum. The project on ‚Roman Sculpture from Side in context. The ideal sculpture‘, funded by the Austrian Science Fund, has been affiliated with the University of Graz since April 2016. 3  Additionally, the project on the ideal sculpture from Side examines sculpture types and coins. The basic publication on sculptures from Side at present: İnan 1975. 4  On the history of Side see Mansel 1963: 415; Franke et alii 1989: 1121; Nollé 1987: 253-264; and especially the detailed study by Nollé 1993: 37-143. 5  Mansel 1963; Mansel 1978; Atvur 2008: 89; Nollé 1993: 37-143. 154173; Nollé 2001. Arrian, Anabasis 1, 26, 4. 6  On the role of Side in piracy in Hellenistic times and on the early Roman period see e.g. Mansel 1963: 610; Brandt 1992, 85-87. 94-100. 7  Nollé 1987: 253-264 mentions the increasing importance of the Sidetan harbour on the route to the east during the military campaigns against the Persians in the 3rd c. AD. Nollé 1993: 94. 8  Nollé 1990: 259-260; Pekman 1989: 97-98. 9  On the invasions of the Isauran tribes in the 3rd c. AD in Pamphylia see Nollé 1987: 254-264; Brandt 1992; Nollé 1993: 167-169. On the Isauran tribes see Feld 2005. 1  2 

Today the excavations at Side continue under the direction of Hüseyin Sabri Alanyalı, Anadolu University at Eskişehir, who has led the archaeological work since 2009. 11  See İnan – Rosenbaum 1966; İnan 1975; İnan – Alföldi-Rosenbaum 1979; and also Linfert 1979 on the sculptures. 12  İnan 1965: 47-94; İnan – Rosenbaum 1966: 191-202. 13  See Mansel 1963: 109-121; İnan 1975: 265. 14  Mansel et alii 1951: 37-45; İnan 1975: 265. 15  On the site of the findings in Building M see Mansel 1963: 109-123; İnan 1975: 265; İnan – Alföldi-Rosenbaum 1979. 16  ‚Kaisersaal‘ or Museion: Mansel 1963: 109121; Nollé 1993: 80-88; Linfert 1995: 158-169; Nollé 2001: 396-398; Slavazzi 2007: 131-134. A Museion could also be part of other buildings (gymnasia/baths). Şahin 1999: 213-214 on epigraphic evidences for Museia in Asia Minor. Compare e.g. the ‘Marmorsaal’ in the Gymnasium of Vedius at Ephesus: Steskal, La Torre 2008: 1924. Strocka 2012: 209-210 excludes Building M from the list of libraries. 17  See e.g. Linfert 1995. 10 

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Figure 1. Map of Side (after Mansel 1963) excavations at Perge. In the volume J. İnan presents the sculptural finds from the beginning of the excavation in Side up to the 1960s. A total of 436 sculptures and fragments from the Roman period (statues, fragments, heads and portraits, statuettes, etc.) came to light during the excavations.

stopped the emission.21 Since the reign of Tiberius and notably under Nero the city had the right to mint bronze coins.22 Side developed into one of the richest minting cities in Roman times.23 This system remained in place until the reign of the Severans, then it changed to mintings of sestertii, depending on the new double denarii, the Antoninian, under Caracalla.24

The representation of statues on coins as a mirror of the sculptural decoration of a city has been discussed by researchers.18 I will focus on this phenomenon by presenting some examples from Side, and will demonstrate the similarity of figure types of sculptures and on coins and the historical contextualization of the emissions.

The minting of coins in Side in Roman times was frequently connected with the occasion of a celebration or an important event in the port-town, and the reverses were used as a medium of propaganda, especially from Septimius Severus up to Gallienus.25 A multifarious iconographic variety emerged on the reverses up to the reign of Aurelian, in the period

Sidetan Coin Emissions19 Side had the right to mint silver coins during the reign of the Persians and in Hellenistic times20 until Roman influence

On hellenistic emissions see Leschhorn 1989: 2342; Nollé 1990: 245248 n. 14 and 16; Brandt 1992: 82-85. 22  Coins with a value of 1 As, then during the 1st c. AD the value increased up to dupondia (2 asses) and sestertii (4 asses): Leschhorn 1989; Nollé 1990. An overview of the Sidetan mints is provided in Nollé, forthcoming. 23  Leschhorn 1989: 24-25; Nollé 1990: 248-249. 24  Atlan 1976: 130; Leschhorn 1989; Nollé 1990: 248. 25  The enthroned Athena, holding a figure of Nike with a laurel wreath and an aplustre refers to the sea power of the city and the harbour town. Even the value of the coin was marked up as the obverses show (5 Assaria – E; 6 = S, 8 = H, 9 = Theta; 11 = IA und 12=IB): Nollé 1990: 245-248. Leschhorn 1989: 23-44 (Hellenistic coins). See also Kraft 1972 and Howgego et alii 2005 on this subject in general. 21 

See e.g. Lacroix 1949; Mansel 1963: 107 fig. 83b; Mansel et alii 1956: pl. XIII fig. 47 and 48; XXV fig. 97; Zanker 1987; Nollé 1990; R.-Alföldi 1999; Landskron 2006; Boschung 2007; Rose 2011. During a lecture in Vienna in 2016, J. Nollé highlighted the importance of coins for archaeological research by sampling the emissions of Sagalassos. 19  On Sidetan coinage see in particular Atlan 1976; Leschhorn 1989: 23-42; Nollé 1989: 43-67; Nollé 1990; A corpus of coins from Side by J. Nollé is forthcoming. 20  Leschhorn 1989: 23-42 pl. I and II: most of the coins feature the head of Athena on the obverse and a figure of Nike on the reverse, symbolising maritime power. 18 

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Alice Landskron – Sculptures and Coins: A Contextual Case Study from Side

Figure 2. Side. So-called Building M, ‘Kaisersaal’ (©Alice Landskron, Photo: Gordian Landskron) when the reformation of the monetary system shut down the city mints.26

emissions feature the temple and figures of Athena.32 The statue types of Nike refer to the statue of Nike by the sculptor Paionios of Mende, dated by inscription to 420 BC, and likewise to figures of the goddess on coins.33

One example of self-representation on Sidetan coins is the figure of the city representative as an enthroned woman, modelled on the Tyche from Antioch: numerous examples provide evidence that the city goddess wears a veil and a mural crown. A tholos on the Agora of Side was dedicated to the goddess Tyche.27 Statues and statuettes of Tyche came to light at different sites and Sidetan coins show the temple and the cult image of the goddess.28

Apollo was also worshipped in Side and had a temple next to Athena at the harbour, both temples being erected under the Severan dynasty.34 After that time, both gods were depicted in their temples on coin reverses.35 Apollo is featured on coins as Apollo Sidetes, Apollo the Sidetan, wearing a short tunic, a chlamys and boots, holding a laurel wreath or a rod with laurels on it.36 No sculptures referring to this statue type have survived so far, even though we can assume the existence of such figures, since the coins show both gods in a dextrarum iunctio gesture.37 Athena and Apollo as well as Nike appeared on coins also in the context of military events, especially against the Parthians and Persians, demonstrating the support of the gods to the Sidetan people.38

Athena was the most important goddess of Side, a fact which is verified by several coins, by a temple and by statues.29 The goddess is shown on Sidetan emissions with different attributes (Figure 3. 4):30 Athena and weapons represent arête and military strength, the goddess and Nike holding a palm branch stands for victory, a common motif from classical to imperial times. Athena depositing a stone in an urn stands for the administration and for a working constitution in the harbour town. The olive tree next to Athena refers to the fertility of the soil and to the groves in the environs. The goddess Athena had a temple at the harbour of Side and is also represented in a number of statues.31 Various Sidetan

Before the middle of the 3rd c. AD, Side held the title of twice neokoros, and a coin of Caracalla features an enthroned Athena holding a bust of the emperor; behind her there is a ship so 257); 168-170 no. 94 pl. LXXIX, 13 (Nike, inv. 42). 32  Nollé 1990: 253 fig. 8 no. 30-33. 37; Nollé, forthcoming. 33  Hölscher 1974. Hatzi 2002: 294-296. 34  On the architectural ornament of the temple see Mansel 1963: 7796 figs. 60. 62. 65. 35  Nollé 1990: 253 fig. 8 no. 37. 38. 36  Nollé 1990: 253 fig. 8 no. 34-36. 37  Nollé 1990: 253 fig. 8 no. 39. 40. Among the sculptural finds only some heads and a torso which probably shows Apollo are preserved: İnan 1975: 2931 no. 4 and 5 (head and torso of Apollo, inv. 49); 114-116 no. 49 (head of Apollon, ‚Sauroktonos‘, inv. 323); 117 f. no. 52 (torso of Apollo). There is no sculptural evidence so far on the Sidetan figure type of Apollo with a tunic, chlamys and boots. Another head of Apollo (inv. 881) was found some years ago and is unpublished. See also İnan 1970; Linfert 1979: 781. On emissions regarding ‚homónoia‘ between cities in Pamphylia see Nollé 1990: 260-262 no. 108-116; Franke and Nollé 1997. 38  Nollé 1987: 253-264; Nollé 1990: 256-257; Brandt 1992.

Nollé 1990: 248. On the dedication of the temple to Tyche, see Mansel 1956: 46-50; Mansel et alii 1956: 35-37 pl. XIII 47 and 48; Mansel 1963: 102-107 fig. 83b; Nollé 1990: 251 fig. 10 no 48 and 49. On the restoration and anastylosis of the temple see Alanyalı 2013: 123-124 fig. 2. A tholos dedicated to the goddess Tyche was erected on the upper agora in Sagalassos and likewise the temple and a sculpture of Tyche is shown on the emission of Claudius II (Auction Roma ESale 12, 1.11.2014, no 1063). 28  Mansel et alii 1956: 3137 pl. XIII 47 and 48; XLII-XLVIII; Mansel 1963: 107 Abb. 83b; İnan 1975: 105-110 no 40-46 pl. XLIX-LI. 29  See Mansel 1963: 77-96 fig. 66, for the temple of Athena; İnan 1975: 53-57 no. 13. 14; 142-145 no. 72, for statues of the goddess Athena. 30  Compare Leschhorn 1989; Nollé 1990. 31  Over lifesize figures of Nike: İnan 1975: 43-47 no. 9 pl. XXI (Nike, inv. 58); 133-135 no. 64 and 65 pl. LXIV (two figures of Nike, inv. 57 and 26  27 

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Figure 3. Athena at an urn. Sidetan coin, Trebonianus Gallus (after Nollé 1990: fig. 8 no. 32)

Figure 4. Athena and an olive-tree. Sidetan coin, Philippus II (after Nollé 1990: fig. 8 no. 33)

it is likely that Caracalla sent a bust by ship for the temple in Side.39 The city gained the third neokoros during the reign of Valerian and Gallienus between 253-260 AD.40 The emission of that period depicts three temples on the reverse: in one of the temple buildings an equestrian statue of an emperor is depicted. During the reign of Tacitus (275/76 AD) Side held the title of ‘six times neokoros’ which was unique among all other cities.41 Side provided the troops in Syria with supplies of grain due to the rich harvest in the fruitful plain of the river Melas.42 Coins show the river god Melas together with the city goddess or even alone (Figure 5).43 One recently-found statue (Figure 6) of the river god refers to the river which supplied the city with water.44 The statue of Melas was erected in the early 3rd c. AD on the occasion of the construction of the bath complex in the south of the city, the so-called harbour baths.45 An aqueduct Nollé 1987: 104-105 pl. 9; Nollé 1990: 255 fig. 12 no. 50 and 61. Nollé 1990: 254-255. See Burrell 2004: 181-188. 41  Compare the honorary inscription from Side for the priestress Modesta: Nollé 2001, 416-419 no. 112 and note 162. This is yet another sign of the importance of Side as a prosperous harbour town and a significant naval base – nauarchis in the 3rd c. AD, which also supplied the troops in the east. 42  Nollé 1989: 49-51 and Nollé 1990: 257 f. points to the importance of the river for the agricultural and economic growth of the city. 43  Nollé 1989: 49-51 fig. 28; Nollé 1990: 257-258 fig. 17 no. 84-87. On the iconography of the river-god Melas: Vollkommer 1992: 413-414; Nollé 1993: 36. 44  Atvur 2008: 49, Archaeological Museum, Side, inv. 522. The figure refers to a common type of reclining river god: see e.g. Klementa 1993: 201-221; Aurenhammer 1990: 102-107. A statue of a drunken Dionysos leaning on a Silenus was displayed in the nymphaeum on the agora in Sagalassos. This statue type is also depicted on the reverse of a coin of Marcus Aurelius (Auction Helios 5, 25.6.2010, no. 105). Compare a figure-group in Rome: De Angelis d’Ossat 2002: 104-105 (Palazzo Altemps, inv. 8606, from the Quirinal; 160-180 AD, Roman copy of a Hellenistic sculpture). For the sculptural decoration of nymphaea in late antiquity see e.g. Auinger and Rathmayr 2007; Manderscheid 1981. 45  Mansel 1963: 143-148. On literary sources regarding the river Melas see Nollé 1993: 153-154. The coin emissions are contemporaneous with the sculpture. 39  40 

Figure 5. River god Melas. Sidetan coin, Antoninian of Caracalla (after Nollé 1990: fig. 17 no. 86) of 35 km length supplied the Roman baths with water from the river, likewise the great nymphaeum outside the city wall and the fountains near the agora. After the destruction of the aqueduct during the invasion of the Goths the noble Sidetan Bryonianos Lollianus and his wife Quirinia Patra restored the water supply and were therefore honoured by the city with statues and in an inscription.46 Asclepius was one of the most important gods in Side, as we know of several well-known physicians in Side from Hellenistic to Roman times. This is documented by the soMansel 1963: 51-52; Nollé 2001: 398-407; Aristodemou 2009: 75-76. 507-508 (IK Side I 82, 38). On a representative function of sculptures in public spaces see e.g. Stewart 2003; Smith 2006. 46 

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Figure 6. Statue of Melas. Archaeological Museum Side, inv. 522 (©Alice Landskron, Photo: Gordian Landskron) called characters in the book of Epidemies by Hippocrates and Memnos of Side.47 Two other famous physicians, Artemidorus and Marcellus from Side are known from inscriptions; the latter lived in the 2nd c. AD and was consulted by Hadrian, Antoninus Pius and Herodes Atticus.48

Gordian III with a bust of his wife Tranquillina on the obverse, likewise shows the Three Graces.52 Another example from Side was struck under the emperor Macrinus and can be dated in 217/218 AD (Figure 8).53 In this case it is very likely that the statue group depicted on the emission refers to the sculptures in the theatre.

Asclepius is portrayed mainly on coins. Furthermore several statues and statuettes illustrating this god were found in Side and overlife-size statues of Hygieia and Asclepius were erected in the so-called building M.49

Several statues, heads and fragments of Hermes were found in the city of trade and commerce.54 One of the highlights in the museum in Side from the so-called Building M is the torso of Hermes untying his sandals (Figure 9), a Roman statue after an original of Lysippus.55 A coin from Sybritia/Sivritos in Crete shows Hermes untying his sandal (Figure 10):56 this figure certainly refers to the statue of Lysippus.57

The Three Graces or Charites (Aglaia – ‘Splendor’, Euphrosyne – ‘Mirth’, and Thalia – ‘Good Cheer’), belong to the entourage of Aphrodite and were uncovered in the theatre in Side.50 The charming statue group is one of the finest examples of the type (Figure 7). Not only do the three graces represent charm and grace but also joy and beauty. They were especially favoured in the 2nd and 3rd c. AD and also struck on coins to bring a sense of splendour, attractiveness as well as wellbeing to the city. A fine statue group of the Three Graces is known from the South Baths in Perge but does not bear much resemblance to the Sidetan statue group with regard to style and treatment of the surface.51 A coin from Cremna struck by

regarding the statues from Side. 52  For the typology of the themes on reverses compare e.g. the emissions in Lycia under the reign of Gordian III.: von Aulock 1954; see also Filges 2015, especially 109-208. 53  For Charites on coins see Imhoof-Blumer 1908: 197-207, esp. 203 pl. XII no 29; Sichtermann 1986: 207-209; Nollé 1990: 253-254 fig. 11 no. 55. 54  İnan 1975: 1929 no. 3 (statue, type Kyrene-Perinth, inv. 45); 32-40 no. 6 (head of Hermes Ludovisi, inv. 154); 6572 no. 19 (statue, ‚Apollo Centocelle‘, inv. 163); 74-77 no. 22 (statue, Hermes Richelieu, inv. 30); 9295 no. 32 (torso, Hermes, untying his sandal, inv. 41). See also the comments of Linfert 1979. 55  İnan 1975: 92-95 no. 32, pl. XLII (torso, Hermes, inv. 41); İnan 1993: 105-116. 56  Fuchs 1979: 104107 fig. 97 (Stater from Sybritia/Crete, 350-300 BC). 57  İnan 1975: 92-95; İnan 1993: 105-116. Roman copy describes a variant of a statue type which goes back to in this case – a Hellenistic statue or original: for further reading see e.g. A. Anguissola, in Friedland and Sobocinski 2015: 240-259; Kousser 2008: 18. 130-151. Other copies are exhibited in the Louvre, Paris (from the Theatre of Marcellus, Rome), in the Archaeological Museum, Antalya, from Perge, and in Copenhagen, the so-called sandal-tying-Lansdowne, from the Villa Hadriana: Özgür 1996: no. 6 (statue of Hermes, inv. 3.25.77, from the south baths in Perge); two copies from Tivoli: Siebert 1990: 368-369 s. v. Hermes XVI, K I. no. 958 ad; Raeder 1983: 34-36 cat. I 6 (Kopenhagen, Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, inv. 2798); 56-57 cat. I 38

Nollé 1983: 219-223; Nollé 1990: 253 fig. 10 no. 4547; Nollé 1993: 173179. 48  Nollé 1983; Nollé 1993: 173-179; Schelenz 1904: 171. 49  Building M: İnan 1975: 98-101 no. 36 (Hygieia, inv. 27); 149 no.77 (Asclepius, inv. 47). For dedications to the goddesses in Side see Nollé 1993: 257-282; in Pergamon see von Fritze 1908. 50  İnan 1975: 158-161 no. 85 (Side, Archaeological Museum, inv. 69 and 142). 51  Özgur 1996: no 30 (Antalya, Archaeological Museum, inv. 17.29.81 – head; 4.22.82 – figures; second half of the 2nd c. AD). İnan 1970: 20-21. In addition, the scholar mentions the stylistic differences of sculptures from Perge and Side. The latter generally have smooth moulding whereas the statues from Perge possess a more linear and severe style. See also İnan 1965: 53. Similar stylistic observations 47 

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Figure 7. Statue group of the Three Graces. Archaeological Museum Side, inv. 69 and 142 (©Alice Landskron, Photo: Gordian Landskron) the 2nd and 3rd c. in Side. Prize crowns as a symbol for an agonistic competition are repeatedly depicted on coins, notably under the reign of the late Severans, especially during the reign of Elagabalus.59 The emissions boomed in the first quarter of the 3rd c. and culminated during the reign of Gordian III who established the Pythian Agon as a privileged imperial agon in Side.60 Most of the coins of the emperor and his wife Tranquillina celebrate the imperial oikoumenikos agon, in which athletes and artists from all over the empire were allowed to participate.61 A marble base of a golden portable altar shows a prize crown on which is inscribed ‘imperial privileged Pythian games’ flanked by a herald and a trumpeter. On coins the prize crown is often flanked by wallets, referring to the prize money for the victors. The other sides depict scenes of the discipline (artistic, athletic, and chariot racing-discipline). The base was erected by two leading Sidetans, a father and son, and dates to the 3rd c. AD. Several coins praise the agons with the words ‘Pythian games in Side in perpetuity’ (IC AΓONA TA PYTHIA).62

Figure 8. Three Graces. Sidetan coin, Macrinus (after Nollé 1990: fig. 11 no. 55)

On the imperial cult in Baalbek under the Severans see Wienholz 2016. 60  Weiß 1981; Nollé 1986: 204-206; Nollé 1989: 47-49; Nollé 1990: 259. 61  Nollé 1990: 258-259. 62  Nollé 1989: 47-49 fig. 26. Another important competition in Side was the Agon Mystikos dedicated to Dionysos and Demeter. This Agon was established under Hadrian. Coins from the reign of Valerian and Gallienus refer to this agon: Nollé 1986: 204-206. See also Theotikou 2013: 350-356. An example of homónoia between Side and Delphi, as a consequence of the imperial Pythia in Side under Gordian III according to Apollo and the Pyhthian Agon is depicted on coins: Apollo Pythios from Delphi passes a prize crown over to the Sidetan Apollo. This coin was struck under Valerian I: Nollé 1990: 262 no. 11759 

An agonistic tradition in Side is proved by statues of athletes and by the evidence of coins.58 Numerous agonistic competitions sponsored by noble Sidetans were held in (Munich, Glyptothek, inv. 287); Maderna 2004: 367368. 58  Nollé 1986: 204-206; Nollé 1989: 47-49; Nollé 1990: 258-259; Nollé 1994. See also Herz 2016. On the epigraphic evidence regarding the agonistic tradition in Side see Nollé 2001: 423-456. On agons see also Gardiner 1930.

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Figure 10. Hermes untying his sandal. Stater from Sybritia (after Fuchs 1979: fig. 97)

Figure 9. Statue of Hermes untying his sandal. Archaeological Museum Side, inv. 41 (©Alice Landskron, Photo: Gordian Landskron) A statue of an athlete, very likely a discobolus, was found in the so-called Building M beside a niche (Figure 11).63 Some samples of Greek statues show similar movements of the athlete, for example the Ludovisi discobolus (ca. 470), a body of the athlete in a herm, and a Roman variant form of a bronze statue.64 Although the arms are missing, the dynamic expression of the movement is quite obvious. As it is based on the statue in Side and a bronze statuette in the National Museum in Athens, it provides a good impression of how to complete the figure.65 Coins show the movement of the 119; Emissions for homónoia between Side and other cities emerge under Gordianus III, Valerian and Gallienus: Franke and Nollé 1997: 190-196. 63  İnan 1975: 13-18 no. 1 pl. VI-VII (Ludovisi Discobolus, inv. 38); İnan 1979: 17-21 pl. 11, 1; see also the Discobolus of Myron from Building M: İnan 1975: no. 2 (Discobolus of Myron, inv. 39); Rausa 1994: 261-271 fig. 8.18 and 8.19. On the different sequences of the movement see Wünsche 2004: 102-117. 64  So-called Ludovisi herm: İnan 1979: 18-19 pl. 11, 2; De Angelis d’Ossat 2002: 74 (Rome, Museo Nazionale Romano, Palazzo Altemps, inv. 8639; 2nd c. BC1st c. AD, after a bronze figure, 5th c. BC); Fuchs 1979: 54-55 fig 41; Rausa 1994: 171 no. 1.1; 175 no. 4.9; TzachouAlexandri 1989; Newby 2005: 264-265. In general for statues of athletes see Zanker 1974. 65  Tzachou-Alexandri 1989: 262-263 no. 155 (statuette of a discobolus from the Kabeirion in Boeotia: Athens, National Archaeological Museum inv. X7412; 450 BC); 109 fig. 13. 14; see also Kaltsas 2004: 200 no. 89. Similar movements of the Ludovisi discobolus in Side are seen for example in a torso in Delos (Zapheiropoulou 1998:

Figure 11. Statue of a discobolus. Archaeological Museum Side, inv. 38 (©Alice Landskron, Photo: Gordian Landskron)

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Summary The historical context of sculptures and coins in Side is evident and can be proved by the examples discussed above. Selected subjects were chosen to illustrate the depiction of important buildings and events, military activities, and different kinds of self-representation of the city, especially in the 2nd and 3rd centuries AD. Images on coins function to provide the citizens with a sense of civic pride, to celebrate imperial honours, and to promote the image of a wealthy and prosperous city, a center of trade, commerce and culture. Acknowledgements For the first time I had the honour of meeting the jubilarian Sir John Boardman at the conference in Lisbon, whose scholarship had a great influence on me and on everybody who has studied archaeology. I thank the scientific committee and especially Diana Rodriguez-Perez for the invitation to participate in this inspiring and stimulating conference. I am also grateful to the editors for their patience. Concerning the sculpture project in Side I am thankful to Peter Scherrer (University of Graz) and the director of the excavation in Side, Hüseyin S. Alanyalı (University of Eskişehir) for the cooperation, and the director of the Archaeological Museum in Side, Güner Kozdere. I also thank Sarah Cormack and Gordian Landskron; particular thanks are due to the Austrian Science Fund for the funding of the project. Bibliography Alanyalı, H. 2013. Archaeological Work at Side in 2011 and 2012. In ANMED 11: 121-133 Aristodemou, G. 2009. Sculptured Decoration of Monumental Nymphaea at the Eastern Provinces of the Roman Empire. In T. Nogales Basarrate and I. Rodà de Llanza (eds.), Rome and the Provinces: Models and Diffusion. In Hispania Antigua 3: 149-160. Roma: L‘Erma di Bretschneider Atlan, S. 1976. 1947-1967 yılları Side kazıları sırasında elde edilen sikkeler. Ankara: Türk Tarih Kurumu Basımevi Atvur O. 2008. Side. Führer durch die antike Stadt und Museum 6 Antalya: Auinger, J., E. Rathmayr. 2007. Zur spätantiken Statuenausstattung der Thermen und Nymphäen in Ephesos. In F. A. Bauer and C. Witschel (eds.), Statuen in der Spätantike: 237-269. Wiesbaden: Reichert von Aulock, H. 1954. Die Münzprägung des Gordian III und der Tranquillina in Lykien. In IstMitt Beih. 11. Tübingen: Wasmuth Aurenhammer, M. 1990. Die Skulpturen von Ephesos. Bildwerke aus Stein 1: Idealplastik I. In Forschungen in Ephesos 10, 1. Vienna: Verlag der ÖAW Boschung, D. 2007. Die Repräsentation von Geschichte im Stadtbild der Kaiserzeit. In O. D. Cordovana and M. Galli (eds.). Arte e memoria culturale nell’età della Seconda Sofistica: 103-107. Catania: Edizioni del Prisma Brandt, H. 1992. Gesellschaft und Wirtschaft Pamphyliens und Pisidiens im Altertum, Asia Minor Studien 7. Bonn: Habelt Burrell, B. 2004. Neokoroi: Greek cities and Roman emperors. Leiden: Brill De Angelis d’Ossat, M. 2002. Scultura antica in Palazzo Altemps. Museo Nazionale Romano. Milan: Electa

Figure 12. Statue of the discobolus by Myron. Archaeological Museum Side, inv. 39 (©Alice Landskron, Photo: Gordian Landskron) Ludovisi discobolus in a similar fashion to the statues.66 The athlete is forced into the circular format and therefore bent down a little more. The statue type of a discobolus featuring different phases of the movement is relatively common on coins. A torso of the discobolus of Myron (ca. 450 BC) is preserved in Side (Figure 12).67 99, Museum Delos, inv. A4276) and a bronze statuette in New York (Metropolitan Museum, inv. 78). See also a bronze statuette of a discobolus in Stuttgart with both arms raised: Wünsche 2004: 109 fig. 12. 13 (Württembergisches Landesmuseum). Greek vases feature this movement similar to the coins, likely caused by the ‚Bildträger‘: Wünsche 2004: 474 cat. 25 (Attic red-figure cup by Onesimos, from Vulci: Munich, Antikensammlung, inv. 2637, 470 BC). 66  Tridrachm from Cos 480-450 BC: Tzachou-Alexandri 1989: 322 no. 207; Wünsche 2004: 109 fig. 13. 14. 67  İnan 1975: 19 no. 2 pl VIII. IX (inv. 38); Rausa 1994: 262264 fig. 8. 18.

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Feld, K. 2005. Barbarische Bürger: die Isaurier und das Römische Reich. Berlin: De Gruyter Filges, A. 2015. Münzbild und Gemeinschaft. Die Prägungen der römischen Kolonien in Kleinasien. Bonn: Habelt Franke P. R., W. Leschhorn, B. Müller and J. Nollé 1989. Side. Münzprägung, Inschriften und Geschichte einer antiken Stadt in der Türkei. Saarbrücken Franke P. R., M. K. Nollé. 1997. Die Homonoia-Münzen Kleinasiens und der thrakischen Randgebiete. Saarbrücken: Saarbrücker Druckerei und Verlag Friedland, E. A., M. G. Sobocinski and E. Gazda (eds.). 2015. The Oxford Handbook of Roman Sculpture: Oxford: University Press von Fritze, H. 1908. Asklepiosstatuen in Pergamon. In Nomisma II: 19-35. Berlin: Mayer und Müller Fuchs, W. 1979. Die Skulpturen der Griechen. Munich: Hirmer Gardiner, E. N. 1930. Athletics of the Ancient World. Oxford: Clarendon Press Hatzi, G. E. 2002. The Archaeological Museum of Olympia. Athen: John S. Latsis Public Benefit Found Herz, P. 2016. Agonistik und der Kaiserkult. In A. Kolb and M. Vitale (eds.). Kaiserkult in den Provinzen des Römischen Reiches: Organisation, Kommunikation und Repräsentation: 123-132. Berlin: De Gruyter Hölscher T. 1974. Nike der Messenier und Naupaktier in Olympia. In JdI 89: 70-111 Howgego, Ch., V. Heuchert, A. Burnett. 2005. Coinage and Identity in the Roman Provinces. Oxford: University Press Imhoof-Blumer, F. 1908. Nymphen und Chariten auf griechischen Münzen. Athen: Hestia İnan, J. 1965. Römische Porträts aus dem Gebiet von Antalya. Ankara: Türk Tarih Kurumu Basımevi İnan J., 1970. Three statues from Side. In AntK 3: 17-33 İnan J., 1975. Roman Sculpture in Side. Ankara: Türk Tarih Kurumu Basımevi İnan J., 1993. Der sandalenbindende Hermes. In A. H. Borbein (ed.), AntPl 22: 105-116 İnan J., E. Alföldi-Rosenbaum 1979. Römische und frühbyzantinische Porträtplastik aus der Türkei: Neue Funde. Mainz: von Zabern İnan J., E. Rosenbaum, 1966. Roman and Early Byzantine Portrait Sculpture in Asia Minor. London: Oxford University Press Kaltsas, N. (ed.) 2004. Agon. Athens: Kapon Editions Klementa, S. 1993. Gelagerte Flussgötter des Späthellenismus und der römischen Kaiserzeit. Köln: Böhlau Kousser, R. M. 2008. Hellenistic and Roman Ideal sculpture. Cambridge: University Press Kraft, K. 1972. Das System der kaiserzeitlichen Münzprägung in Kleinasien. Materialien und Entwürfe. Berlin: Mann Lacroix, L. 1949. Les reproductions de statues sur les monnaies grecques: la statuaire archaïque et classique. Bibliothèque de la Faculté de philosophie et lettres de l’Université de Liège 116. Liège: Faculté de philosophie et lettres Landskron, A. 2006. Repräsentantinnen des orbis Romanus auf dem sog. Partherdenkmal von Ephesos. Personifikationen und Bildpropaganda. In. W. Seipel (ed.), Das Partherdenkmal von Ephesos, Schriften des Kunsthistorischen Museums 10: 102-127. Wien: Phoibos Linfert, A. 1979. In BJb 79: 781-785 Linfert, A. 1995. Die Skulpturen des Kaisersaales von Side (Pamphylien). In H. v. Hesberg (ed.), Was ist eigentlich Provinz? Zur Beschreibung eines Bewußtseins: 153-169. Köln: Hundt

Maderna, C. 2004. Die letzten Jahrzehnte der spätklassischen Plastik. In: P. Bol (ed.), Geschichte der antiken Bildhauerkunst II. Klassische Plastik: 303-382. Mainz: von Zabern Manderscheid, 1981. Die Skulpturenausstattung der kaiserzeitlichen Thermenanlagen. Berlin: Mann Mansel, A. M. 1956. Bericht über die Ausgrabungen und Untersuchungen in Pamphylien in den Jahren 1946-1955. In AA: 34-119 Mansel, A. M., 1963. Die Ruinen von Side. Berlin: De Gruyter Mansel, A. M., G. E. Bean and J. İnan. 1956. Die Agora von Side und ihre benachbarten Bauten. Bericht über die Ausgrabungen im Jahre 1948. Ankara: Türk Tarih Kurumu Basımevi Mansel, A. M., E. Bosch and J. İnan, 1951. Vorläufiger Bericht über die Ausgrabungen in Side im Jahre 1947. Ankara: Türk Tarih Kurumu Basımevi Newby, Z. 2005. Greek athletics in the Roman world: victory and virtue. Oxford: University Press Nollé, J. 1983. Die im 3. Epidemienbuch des Hippokrates und Memnon von Side, EA 2: 85-98 Nollé, J. 1986. Pamphylische Studien 1-5. In Chiron 16. München: Beck Nollé, J. 1987. Epigraphische und numismatische Notizen 1-4. In EA 10: 101-106 Nollé, J. 1990. Side. Zur Geschichte einer kleinasiatischen Stadt in der römischen Kaiserzeit im Spiegel ihrer Münzen, AW 21: 244-265 Nollé, J. 1993. Side im Altertum. Geschichte und Zeugnisse 1. Bonn: Habelt Nollé, J. 1994. Götter, Städte, Feste. Kleinasiatische Münzen der römischen Kaiserzeit. München Nollé, J. 2001. Side im Altertum: Geschichte und Zeugnisse 2. Bonn: Habelt Özgür, M. E. 1996. Skulpturen des Museums von Antalya I². Ankara Pekman, A. 1989. History of Perge. Ankara: Türk Tarih Kurumu Basımevi Raeder, J. 1983. Die statuarische Ausstattung der Villa Hadriana bei Tivoli. Frankfurt/Main: Lang R.-Alföldi, M. 1999. Bild und Bildersprache der römischen Kaiser. Mainz: von Zabern Rausa, F. 1994. L’immagine del vincitore: l‘atleta nella statuaria greca dall‘età arcaica all‘ellenismo. Treviso: Fondazione Bennetton Rose, C. B. 2011. Greek & Roman sculpture and Coinage in Ilion. In F. D’Andria and I. Romeo (eds.). Roman Sculpture in Asia Minor, Proceedings of the Intern. Conference 2007. JRA Suppl. 80: 279-293. Portsmouth/R.I.: Thomsen-Shore Şahin, S. 1999. Die Inschriften von Perge 1. Bonn: Habelt Schelenz, H. 1904. Geschichte der Pharmazie. Berlin: Springer Siebert, G. 1990. Hermes. In LIMC V: 285-387. Zürich: Artemis und Winkler Sichtermann, H. 1986. Charis – Charites/Gratiae. In LIMC III: 203-210. Zürich: Artemis und Winkler Slavazzi, F. 2007. Uso modelli e recupero del passato nei programmi scultorei ufficiali di età Antonina in Asia Minore. In O. D. Cordovana and M. Galli (eds.) Arte e memoria culturale nell’età della Seconda Sofistica: 123-136. Catania: Edizioni del Prisma Smith, R. R. R. 2006. Roman Portrait Statuary from Aphrodisias, Aphrodisias 2. Mainz: von Zabern Steskal M., M. La Torre 2008. Das Vediusgymnasium in Ephesos, Forschungen in Ephesos 14, 1. Vienna: Austrian Academy of Science

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Stewart, P. 2003. Statues in Roman Society: Representations and Response. Oxford: University Press Strocka, V. M. 2012. Die Bibliothek von Nysa am Mäander Darmstadt: von Zabern Theotikou, M. 2013. Die ekecheiria zwischen Religion und Politik: der sog. ‘Gottesfriede’ als Instrument in den zwischenstaatlichen Beziehungen der griechischen Welt. Berlin: LIT Tzachou-Alexandri O. (ed.) 1989. Mind and Body. Athens Vollkommer, R. 1992. Melas I. In LIMC VI, 413-414. Weiß, P., 1981. Ein agonistisches Bema und die isopythischen Spiele von Side. In Chiron 11: 315-346.

Wienholz, H. 2016. Eine severische Neokorie im Bacchustempel von  Baalbek. In A. Kolb and M. Vitale (eds.). Kaiserkult in den Provinzen des Römischen Reiches: Organisation, Kommunikation und Repräsentation: 229-252. Berlin: De Gruyter R. Wünsche and F. Knauß (eds.) 2004. Lockender Loorbeer. Sport und Spiel in der Antike. München: Staatliche Antikensammlung Zanker, P. 1974. Klassizistische Statuen. Mainz: von Zabern Zanker, P. 1987. Augustus und die Macht der Bilder. München: C. H. Beck Zapheiropoulou, Ph. 1998. Delos. Delos: Chalándri

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The Romanitas of Mark Antony’s Eastern Coins João Paulo Simões Valério1 The1 struggle for supremacy in Rome between Gaius Octavius and Mark Antony in the last years of the Republic was, in many ways, a battle of words and images. The supposed oriental attitude of the triumvir Mark Antony placed him in a vulnerable situation as concerned the Octavian propaganda.2 The Roman general was accused of betraying the Romanitas by challenging several Roman values such as fides, grauitas, or the mos maiorum.

Zófimo Consiglieri Pedroso, a Portuguese historian and professor of Universal History at the High Letters Studies (presently the School of Arts and Humanities of the University of Lisbon), in his compendium intended for Brazilian and Portuguese secondary school students, presents a comprehensive overview of the communis opinio regarding Mark Antony’s presence in the East. My preliminary approach will concentrate on Antony’s cistophori that were minted in Ephesus. In this cistophorus, (Figure 1) we notice Antony and Octavia (his fourth wife, married in 40 BC, and the pillar of the Pact of Brundisium). Antony can be observed crowed with ivy, a typical symbol of Dionysian worship. In Athens, Antony and his wife were also hailed as theoi euergetai or the ‘divine benefactors’.7

Associations with Hercules and principally Dionysus, transmitted in the Life of Antony by Plutarch, informed further perspectives about Antony.3 It emphasised, through its contemporary historiography – based primarily on Plutarch’s testimonia – the eastness of the triumvir’s conduct.4 Regardless, in my paper, I intend to approach the Romanitas of Antony’s coinage in the East that was minted during the period termed as the ‘second-triumvirate’ (43 – 31 BC). With the aid of numismatics and archaeology, I can emphasise the usage of Roman motifs in Antonian coinage and invite the reader to apply an alternative perspective on the Roman general.

It is fairly probable that the impromptu acclamation of Antony as Dionysus at Ephesus in 41 BC, described by Plutarch Ant. 24.4, was premeditated by the guilds of Artists of Dionysus.8 The future motifs of propaganda employed by Octavian against Antony included an alternative other view of Dionysus; as Brenk emphasised ‘The Hellenistic Neos Dionysos reflected contrasts with the rude image of a drunken Bacchus as conjured up by the Augustan propaganda machine.’9

However, before I proceed with the central theme, an explanation of the term Romanitas is required. The word Romanitas, which is not provided in the Oxford Latin Dictionary (that comprises the lexicon termed as the Classical Latin lexicon, derived from Latin sources dated earlier than 200 AD), was first coined in the III century AD by the Christian apologist Tertulian, in his work De Pallio, a speech about the need to change the Roman clothing trend from the standard Roman toga to the philosophers’ pallium.5

Nevertheless, we see that a clear assimilation of Dionysus by Antony only commenced in 39 BC, contrary to the time proposed by Plutarch and some contemporary authors, that is, 41 BC .10 However, we can assume an alternative perspective on Antony’s cistophori by adopting a diachronic approach for that coinage. From 167 BC to the time of Augustus, the coins termed as the Kistophoroi or ‘basket-bearers’ constituted the most prevalent silver currency in western Asia Minor. The name kistophoros (commonly Latinised, as we observed in cistophorus) is derived from the observed motif that depicts a snake crawling out of a wicker basket (a cista), encircled by an ivy wreath. On the reverse of the coins, two snakes with forked tongues are represented, coiling around a highly ornamental bow-case. This coinage, clearly associated with the Attalid Kingdom of Pergamum, was minted utilising a ‘local’ weight standard, commonly based on a tetradrachm (12.20 grammes).11 Their unique standard weight indicates that the cistophori mainly resided in the region where they were minted: according to Thonemann, the coins are practically never found in hoards outside western Asia.12 In 133 BC, Atallus III bequeathed his kingdom to Rome and the Atallid Kingdom became the Roman

Hence, ironically, the initial implication of the word was deprecatory. However, I employ the word in this paper to refer to a sense of ‘romaness’ or Romanity, that is, typically Roman characteristic of the people, or, in other words, a historical concept related to the moral and political mental conceptions of the Romans. *** ‘Antony, on the contrary, keener on adventures, left for the East to settle accounts with Cleopatra as concerned the support that she extended to Cassius; but vanquished by the enchantments of this beautiful princess, he followed her to Alexandria, where he remained for some time, devoted to dissolute pleasures of an indolent life, passed at the famous Egyptian queen’s feet.’6 (my translation) Centro de História, Faculdade de Letras, Universidade de Lisboa, 1600-214 Lisboa, [email protected] 2  Scott 1933. 3  Hercules: see e.g. Hekster 2004; Dionysus: Beacham 2005: esp. 152160. 4  See e.g. Bengtson 1977 and Tisé 2006. 5  Hunink 2005. 6  Pedroso 1884: 188-189. 1 

Raubitschek 1946: 148. Antony hailed as Dionysus in Athens: Sen. Suas. 1.6; Ath. Epit. 4.148bc;D.C. 48.32.9. See also IG II² 1043 ll. 22-23. 8  Pickard-Cambridge 1968: 296-297; Dunand 1986: 94-95. 9  Brenk 1992: 4382. 10  See e.g. Beacham 2005: 155. 11  Thonemann 2015: 77-78. 12  Thonemann 2015: 78. 7 

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Figure 1. Silver cistophorus of Mark Antony, Ephesus, c. 39 BC. (RPC I 2201; Sear 1998: 262). ANS 1935.117.40.

Figure 2. Silver cistophorus of Q. Metellus Pius Scipio, Pergamum, 49/48 BC. ANS 1944.100.37493. province of Asia.13 In Scipio’s cistophorus, (Figure 2) it can be observed that the snakes encircle the legionary eagle and not the conventional bow-case. Cicero, in his letters as governor of Cilicia, suggests that no ready convertibility existed between the cistophorus and the denarius, and therefore, it appears as though the closed monetary zone continued even under Roman administration.14 We must remember that the production and circulation of denarii only began during the Civil Wars (especially with Cassius and Brutus rule of the East and later with Antony himself).15

Antony continued the tradition of ‘romanising’ the cistophori. The republican titles and the lituus above (Figure 1) (a symbol of the augurship held by Antony and associated with the legendary Roman kings, Romulus and Numa Pompilius)16 are indicative of this fact. Since the beginning, the cistophori, as we observed, were associated with Dionysus. As Horne indicates ‘The presentation of Dionysian elements should not necessarily be seen as an official representation of his adoption of Dionysus as a patron, but rather as an inseparable element of the cistophoric tradition.’17 Further, I propose, if we associate the numismatic evidence with Plut. Ant. 24.4, we may conjecture that Antony’s cistophori was a reaction to

Thonemann 2015: 81. Cic. Att. 11.1.2. See Thonemann 2015: 124. See also Cicero’s cistophorus struck at Laodicea, while he was governor of Cilicia (51-50 BC). Thonemann 2015: 178. 15  Kroll 1997: 123.

13  14 

16  17 

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Figure 3. Silver cistophorus of Gaius Octavius, Ephesus, c.28 BC. (RPC I 2203; Sear 1998: 433). ANS 2001.1.23. the divine worship in Ephesus. In 41 BC, Antony’s destiny was not contained in the East, but in the aftermath of the Pact of Brundisium (40 BC), when, as Pelling suggests, he was supposed ‘to think of distinctively eastern future.’.18 Ephesus, effectively the capital of Asia, was of considerable significance for him.19 Furthermore, an ambiguous message could be ventured; as Rowan indicates, ‘Ambiguity can serve a number of cultural or political purposes, including contributing to the cohesion of differing groups. An ambiguous phrase, word, object or image remains open to interpretation, meaning that it can evoke a variety of responses, experiences or interpretations’.20 Approaching Cicero’s testimony, the cistophori was a local coin even in Roman times, they were circulated among Antony’s legions and local elites around Asia. However, the essential argument of my perspective is that although Antony may have been worshiped as the New Dionysus in Asia, he was equally the roman ruler of the East, the triumvir, consul, and augur.

103 BC onwards through popular election by the assembly of the seventeen tribes, from the candidates nominated by two college members. They had individual and college functions. As an individual augur, Antony could assist the magistrates in taking the auspices; further, in particular, an augur had the right to effect a binding announcement (nuntiatio) of adverse solicited (oblative) omens, especially at popular assemblies.23 Antony had that opportunity when he blocked the election of Publius Cornellius Dolabela as consul suffectus in the spring of 44 BC; the augural obstruction, as was indicated recently by Santangelo, was a clever political movement that weakened Dolabella’s constitutional position.24 Since the time of Lucius Cornellius Sulla, the presence of augural symbols had been common in Roman coinage. The last intense usage of those symbols was by Gaius Julius Caesar.25 Gaius Octavius had been pontifex since 48 BC and augur since 43 BC. In the aureus coin, (Figure 4) we discern a distinct example of the symbolic character of the priestly symbols: the augur never fulfilled his ritualistic obligations on horseback.26 This silver denarius from 41 BC, after Philippi (Figure 5), (where the liberatores Cassius and Brutus were defeated) at a time of apparent peace between the triumvirs, signifies tension and an intention of superiority of Antony over Octavian. The size of the portraits, their legends and symbols must be observed. Octavian is portrayed as a puer and Antony is evidently the leader. Furthermore, the legends imply that although Octavian is an augur, he is only referred to as a pontifex. The capis (jug) is located on Antony’s side of the coin, and even the lituus on Octavian’s side is a reference to Antony’s augurship.

In this silver cistophorus (Figure 3), we can discern the significant changes introduced by Octavian. He has depicted Apollo as the laureate with whom he had shared a special relationship since the battle of Actium.21 The inscription on the reverse, PAX and the cista mystica, is relegated to a minor symbol on the reverse field, whilst the whole is encircled by Apollo’s wreath of laurel instead of the Dyonisiac garland of ivy. The message is evident: the dammnatio memoriae of Antony’s coinage stands for the dawn of Octavian’s age in Asia. ***

The silver denarius of Octavian (Figure 6) represents the subjugation of the Ptolemaic kingdom of Egypt in August 30 BC; it was minted in Italy in 28 BC. Octavian’s head draws attention to his association with the priestly college of augurs.

Mark Antony was elected augur in 50 BC.22 New members were admitted to the collegium (for life) through cooptation from Pelling 1988: 180. For Athenian coinage in honour of Antony and Octavia see Kroll 1993: 102-103, 141-142. 20  Rowan 2016: 25. 21  Sear 1998: 263. 22  Cic. Att. 6.8.2, Fam. 8.14.1-2; Hirt Gal. 8.50.1-3. 18  19 

OLD, s.v. ‘augur’. (s.v.=sua voce) Santangelo 2013: 273-278. 25  See e.g. RRC 456/1a; 480/2a. 26  Koortbojian 2013: 63. 23  24 

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Figure 4. Gold aureus of Gaius Octavius, military mint traveling with Octavian in Italy, spring-summer 42 BC. (RRC 497/1; Sear 1998: 136). The Trustees of the British Museum 1864,1128.237.

Figure 5. Silver denarius. Issued from the moneyer Gellius Poplicola to Mark Antony in Asia Minor 41 BC. (RRC 517/8; Sear 1998: 250). ANS 1941.131.336. Antony, as we have observed, attributed great prominence in his coinage to his membership to this exclusive body; furthermore, Octavian, is evidently responding to the previous application of that title in Antony’s coinage, and is visibly emphasise his own position in this regard. I would like to stress that the lituus later gained immense significance in Octavian’s provincial (and civic) eastern coinage. No less than nineteen cities in Asia used the lituus in conjunction with Octavian’s portrait. Conceivably, the adoption of the honorific title Augustus in 27 BC, and the wordplay between augur and Augustus had a part in it.27 27 

All this evidence raises the question: why were the augural symbols so significant in the Late Republic? There is extensive scholarship on the subject.28 But personally, I adopt Koortbojian’s perspective that I quote here in full: ‘But cannot the same be said for such a dual significance - both personal and public — of these emblems on the coinage of those imperatores, augurs themselves, whose coins advertised their commands? The coinage of the Civil Wars offers some confirmation of such a ‘double’ valence

Burnett 2011: 14; Györi 2015.

28 

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Figure 6. Silver denarius of Gaius Octavius, Rome (?), 28 BC. (Sear 1998: 430). ANS 1944.100.39163. of these symbols. From 43 onward, on a host of their coins, the two chief protagonists - Octavian and Antony - both advertised, not only their accomplishments, but their claims for such divine sanction. Both were not only imperatores, who commanded with full imperium, but augurs; Octavian was a pontif as well. On their coins each staked his claim to the present legitimacy and future success of the triumvirate, on the basis not merely of former glory (indeed, Octavian had, at first, little to boast of), but of the dignity conveyed to them by their status as both magistrates and priests. Sometimes the claim is made by the emblems that form the types, sometimes merely by the legends, sometimes both. In the highly charged atmosphere of the Civil Wars, the triumvirs’ coinage proclaimed them to be duly elected magistrates; their coins’ symbols declared that their power was iustum, and as inaugurated priests, their employment of it, recte.’29

(Pact of Brundisium) and as the true heir of Caesar’s legacy. Further, more importantly, the date of the issues corresponds with Plutarch’s testimony that after the marriage to Octavia (Ant. 33.1), Antony finally accepted his position as flamen Diuus Iulii in 40 BC (he had supposedly been nominated flamen of the cult of the Diuus Iullius in middle/late 44 BC; Caesar’s official consecratio was effected in 42 BC).33 However, this appears to be short-lived. After his departure to Athens, Antony abandoned this imagery. In fact, as Plutarch points out (Ant. 33.1), it was on Octavian’s insistence that Antony finally inaugurated his flaminate. However, I rather perceive the star as a symbol of Julius Caesar’s memory already present in his lifetime coinage, as we observe in a silver denarius struck by the moneyer Publius Sepulius Macer in early 44 BC.34 Still, I wish to emphasise that we should pause in our attempt to analyse every symbol in Antony’s coinage as a motif of his eastness and contemplate. Mark Antony, even in the east, always had an eye on Rome.

In fact, according to Koortbojian, and confirmed by me, of the fifty-eight variants of Antony’s issues, nearly 80 percent (fortysix) refer to his augurate and of Octavian’s thirty-one (not counting the Aedes Diui Iulii), less than 30 percent (nine) do.30 This emphasis, in my view, the significance Antony attributed to the use of this title and their appropriate application.

*** Burnett emphasises in an article that Mark Antony’s ‘fleet coinage’ was the first ‘tentative to impose a single pattern of coinage’.35 Issued by three of Antony’s lieutenants, Lucius Atratinus, Marcus Oppius Capito, and Lucius Calpurnius Bibulus, the coins were minted at three separate mints, but following approximately the same weight stands. Atratinus and Capito minted in Greece (Atratinus at the naval base of Gytheion (south of the Peloponnese) and Capito at Piraeus, while Bibulus worked in Syria.36 The same pattern across various locations suggests a clear evidence of centralised control (even as Burnett points out that the other coinages of the same areas seem to have been allowed to co-exist with these issues).37 This series was made in six-Roman bronze

This section makes a small digression towards another subject: the use of the sidus Iulium in Antony’s coinage. The star of this coin (Figure 7) celebrating the reconciliation with former republican admiral Cn. Domitius Ahenobarbus with the ‘Caesarians’ in 40 BC, is commonly interpreted as a symbol of the East. However, Gurval proposed other interpretations: the star is a sign of Antony’s authority and recognition of Julius Caesar’s divinity; the same reasoning can be applied to Antony’s silver denarius:31 the star, interpreted as the dawn of a new era, is an allusion to the sidus Iulium or at least Caesar’s divinity.32 It can also be deduced as Antony’s superiority in the new agreement

Pelling 1988: 206; Ramsey 2003: 323. RRC 480/5a; Sear 1998: 106. See Alföldi 1958. Burnett 2011: 8. 36  Burnett 2011: 8-9. For Atratinus see Amandry 2008. General overview in Amandry 1986. 37  Burnett 2011: 9.

Koortbojian 2013: 62. Koortbojian 2013: 252 n. 57. See also the observe of a silver denarius from 38 BC where Antony stands togate and veiled holding a lituus. RRC 533/2. 31  RRC 528/2a; Sear 1998: 261. 32  Gurval 1997: 50-51. Accepted by Pandey 2013: 420. 29 

33 

30 

34  35 

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Figure 7. Silver denarius of Mark Antony, Corcyra (?), summer 40 BC. (RRC 521/2; Sear 1998: 258). ANS 1944.100.4807.

Figure 8. Bronze sestertius of L. Bibulus, Syria, c. 38-37 BC. (RPC I 4088). ANS 1941.36.2. standards, the sestertius, tressis, dupondius, as, semis, and quadrans. Each denomination has a mark of value, expressed as a Greek letter, a symbol that runs parallel to the mark of value, and a reverse type, which is closely related to their values.38 For example, this bronze sestertius from Bibulus (Figure 8) bears both the Roman mark of value (HS) and the Greek letter-numeral Delta, combined with the four hippocamps that institute the value being four asses.39 This would be an indication that the coins were circulated within a Greek-speaking area. We should not see this as merely another piece of Antonian propaganda, but rather, as Horne correctly asserts that Antony ‘saw the problems created by the large-scale introduction of Roman gold and silver issues without a corresponding small denomination.’.40 As Sear suggests, the ‘fleet coinage was a truly revolutionary character and anticipates many of the changes introduced

by Augustus two decades later in his sweeping reform of the Roman aes coinage.’.41 In total, the importance of introducing this coinage cannot be overestimated in our analysis. Antony, based on this review, was clearly proceeding as a Roman ruler trying to implement a coin usable by everyone in this region; he was working as a Roman statesman. *** Currently accepted as evidence of Antony’s alliance and jointrule with Cleopatra, or an ‘Antony turns east’ declaration,42 this Syrian tetradrachm, probably minted by Cleopatra (Figure 9), deserves a more justified treatment. If we observe the legends carefully in terms of the below mentioned parts,

Sear 1998: 173; Horne 2008: 88. Taken from Horne 2008: 88. 40  Horne 2008: 88. 38  39 

41  42 

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Figure 9. Silver tetradrachm, Syria, c. 36- 33 BC. (RPC I 4094). Classical Numismatic Group, Inc., Triton XIII, Lot 304. ΒΑΣΙΛΙΣΣΑ ΚΛΕΟΠΑΤΡΑ ΘΕΑ KLEOPATRA THEA NEŌTERA)

ΝΕΩΤΕΡΑ

(BASILISSA

observed as celebrating the consulship (41 BC) of his younger brother. The reverse type illustrates the theme of pietas as we observe a stork, a bird which was an emblem of family piety.47

(Queen Cleopatra Thea, the younger or Queen Cleopatra, the younger goddess)43

In the other gold aureus, from 38 BC, (Figure 11) Antony included his own official Roman patronymic among his titles; he added his father’s and grandfather’s name, Marcus Antonius Creticus (praetor in 74 BC; it was bestowed on him imperium infinitum over the Mediterranean; unsuccessful, he died in Crete (72/71);48 and Marcus Antonius (known as censor or orator, he was one of Rome’s greatest orators; equally successful in military affairs, he was proconsul in Cilicia (102 – 1 BC) where he defeated the pirates of the region, a feat that granted him a triumph (100); later, he was elected consul (99) and censor (97); he was one of the victims of Gaius Marius’ purge in 87 BC and had become one of the symbols of Republican martyrdom. He was also a member of the collegium of augurs.49

ΑΝΤΩΝΙΟΣ ΑΥΤΟΚΡΑΤΩΡ ΤΡΙΤΟΝ ΤΡΙΩΝ ΑΝΔΡΩΝ (ANTŌNIOS AUTOKRATŌR TRITON TRIŌN ANDRŌN) (Antonius, Imperator for the Third Time, Triumvir) it indicates, as Buttrey proposes, that Antony is neither king, nor consort, nor god, but the ruling Roman general and magistrate.44 This Greek tetradrachm was, indeed, one of the first examples of Roman influence in Greek coin inscriptions (the Hellenistic royal coin inscriptions were always in the genitive case);45 and the representation of Latin titles with the correspondent Greek AUTOKRATŌR (imperator) and TRIŌN ANDRŌN (triumuir). In short, this coin, at a minimum, tells us that Cleopatra or the East understood his position adequately in his eastern geostrategic policy.

These inclusions had been associated with Octavian’s introduction of the Diuus Filius title in coins (by 39 BC). According to Newman, Antony was trying to claim that his ancestors ‘were neither dictators nor gods.’.50 Antony, according this view, was seeking senatorial support for himself. Although this interpretation can be correct, it is a fact that is overestimated by the historians who state that Antony only attempted to win over the republicans between 35 and 31 BC.51 I rather take the pietas and mos maiorum statement in relation to the roman principles. That motif is clearly interspersed, in my opinion, with the ‘Antyllus’ aurei. Commonly associated in prevalent scholarship to a protoattempt of Antony to establish and advertise a successor,52

*** The pietas, a Roman traditional value, is commonly defined as a feeling of devotion and loyalty of a man towards his relatives (parents, brothers, and sons), united under the aegis of the patria potestas and projected in the cult of the mos maiorum (the cult of the ancestors).46 Lucius Antonius, Antony’s younger brother, bore the cognomen Pietas in recognition of his fraternal loyalty (see Cassius Dio 48.5.4). Antony, in this gold aureus minted in Asia, (Figure 10) is

Sear 1998: 157. Linderski 1990: 157-164. 49  Valério 2016. 50  Newman 1990: 61. 51  See Welch 2012: 140 ‘That Antonius attempted to win over republicans to his side in the years between 35 and 31 is uncontroversial.’ 52  See e.g. Pelling 1996: 41 and Kleiner 2005: 115. 47  48 

There is some debating about the meaning of Neōtera. See further Buttrey 1953: 54-86; Howgego 1993: 203. 44  Buttrey 1953: 85-86. 45  Burnett 2011: 13-14. 46  Pereira 2002: 338-339. 43 

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Figure 10. Gold aureus of Mark Antony, mint traveling with Antony in Asia, early 41 BC. (RRC 516/2; Sear 1998: 240). The Trustees of the British Museum BNK,R.2.

Figure 11. Gold aureus of Mark Antony, Athens, 38 BC. (RRC 533/3a; Sear 1998: 268). The Trustees of the British Museum 1842,0523.1. it can also be interpreted as a manifestation of pietas. This resolves, in my view, the apparent paradox of a full-legend coin. We decipher the following in English in the first type of the coin: Marcus Antonius, son of Marcus, grandson of Marcus, augur, imperator for the third time, consul for the second time, consul designate for the third time, triumvir for the establishment of the Republic. Further, on the reverse of the second we find the following: Marcus Antonius, the son, son of Marcus (Figure 12); the concept is clearly connected with traditional Republican beliefs. And we must remember that Antony had shared portraits with his wives (Fulvia and Octavia, unnamed); his political allies: Lepidus and Cleopatra; his family: Octavian, (brother-in-law from 40 to 32 BC) Lucius Antonius, and Antyllus (all cases, except Antyllus can be also

judged as political alliances in spite of the fact that at the time, Fulvia’s son already had thirteen/fourteen years and almost assumed the toga uirilis, an event that occurred, according to Plutarch’s Ant. 71.3, after Actium in 31 BC). To conclude, one of the final coins issued by Antony before the battle of Actium will be discussed. His allegiance to the Republic, despite Octavian’s machinery, is worth considering. He is the augur; imperator for the fourth time; consul for the third time, and also, triumvir. In the reverse, the announcement of his Victory that never took place is discernible.53 53 

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Figure 12. Observe: gold aureus of Mark Antony, military mint traveling with Antony in Syria or Armenia, spring-summer 34 BC. (RRC 541/1; Sear: 1998 343). ANS 1944.100.6059. Reverse: gold aureus of Mark Antony, military mint traveling with Antony in Syria or Armenia, springsummer 34 BC. (RRC 541/2; Sear: 1998: 344). The Trustees of the British Museum 1867,0101.606. Thus, in conclusion, based on what we have seen, an alternative image of Antony raises a question, that of an able Roman statesman ruling the East rather than an ebrious tyrant. The triumvir had the ability to understand the Eastern idiosyncrasies without losing his roman grauitas. In fact, a homo politicus rises from this numismatic view. Contrary to the ancient literary sources and to some modern interpretations (the decadence motif clearly stressed by Consiglieri Pedroso), Antony’s presence in the East was much more than Strauss’s waltz Wein, Weib, und Gesang.

Amandry, M. 2008. Le monnayage de L. Sempronius Atratinus revisité. In AJN Second Series 20: 421-434. Amandry, M. 1986. Le monnayage en bronze de Bibulus, Atratinus et Capito: une tentative de romanisation en Orient. In SNR 65: 73-85. Beacham, R. 2005. The Emperor as Impresario: producing the Pageantry of Power. In K. Galinsky (ed.) The Cambridge Companion to the Age of Augustus: 151-174. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bengtson, H. 1977. Marcus Antonius. Triumvir und Herrscher des Orients, München: Verlag C. H. Beck. Brandão, J. L. and Oliveira F. (coord.) 2015. História de Roma Antiga. Das origens à morte de César. Coimbra: Imprensa da Universidade de Coimbra. Brenk, F. 1992. Plutarch’s Life, Markos Antonios: A Literary and Cultural Study. In ANRW II 33.6: 4348-4469. Burnett, A. 2011. The Augustan Revolution Seen from the Mints of the Provinces. In JRS 101: 1-30. Buttrey, T. V. 1953. Studies in the Coinage of Marc Antony. Dissertation presented to the Faculty of Princeton University In Candidacy for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy. Callataÿ, F. 2011. More Than It Would Seem: The Use of Coinage by the Romans in Late Hellenistic Asia Minor (133-63 BC). In AJN Second Series 23: 55-86. Dunand, Françoise. 1986. Les Association Dionysiaques Au Service du Pouvoir Lagide. In L’a Association Dionysiaque Dans Les Sociétés Anciennes. Actes de la table ronde organisée par l’École française de Rome (Rome 24-25 Mai 1984): 85-104. Rome: École Française de Rome Palais Farnèse. Fears, J. R. 1975. The Coinage of Q. Cornificius and Augural Symbolism on Late Republican Denarii. In Historia 24/4: 592-602. Györi, V. 2015. The Lituus and Augustan Provincial Coinage. In Acta Ant. Hung. 55: 45-60.

Acknowledgements This work was made during my PhD Studentship funded by the School of Arts and Humanities of the University of Lisbon and by National Funds through FCT – Fundação para a Ciência e Tecnologia in the sphere of the project UID/HIS/04311/2013. Abbreviations BNP

Brill’s New Pauly

IG

Inscriptiones graecae

OLD

Oxford Latin Dictionary 2012

RPC I

Roman Provincial Coinage Volume I

RRC

Roman Republican Coinage

Bibliography Ager, S. L. 2013. Marriage or Mirage? The Phantom Wedding of Cleopatra and Antony. In CPh 108/2: 139-155. Alföldi, A. 1958. The Portrait of Caesar on the Denarii of 44 B.C. and the sequence of the issues. In H. Ingholt (ed.) Centennial Publication of The American Numismatic Society: 27-42. New York: The American Numismatic Society.

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Gurval, R. A. 1997. Caesar’s Comet: The politics and poetics of an Augustan Myth. In Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome 42: 39-71. Haug, E. 2008. Local Politics in the Late Republic: Antony and Cleopatra at Patras. In AJN Second Series 20: 405-420. Hekster, O. 2003. Coins and messages. Audience targeting on coins of different denominations? In Lois, L. de et al. (ed.), Representation and Perception of Roman Imperial Power: 20-35. Amsterdam: Gieben. Hekster, O. 2004. Hercules, Omphale, and Octavian’s ‘CounterPropaganda’. In BABesch 79: 171-178. Hollander, D. B. 2007. Money in the Late Roman Republic. Leiden, Boston: Brill. Horne, L. 2008. Images and insights: the provincial coinage of Mark Antony. JNAA 19: 87-92. Howgego, C. 1993. Roman Provincial Coinage I. From the Death of Caesar to the Death of Vitellius (44 B.C.-A.D. 69) by A. Burnett, M. Amandry, P. P. Ripollès. In JRS 83: 199203. Hunink, V. (ed.) 2005. Tertullian, De pallio: a commentary. Amsterdam: J. C. Gieben. Huzar, E. 1978. Mark Antony. A Biography. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Jal. P. 1961. La propagande religieuse à Rome au cours des guerres civiles de la fin de la République. In AC 30/2: 395414. Kleiner, D. E. E. 2005. Cleopatra and Rome. Cambridge: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. Kleiner, F. 1972. The Dated Cistophori of Ephesus. In Museum Notes (American Numismatic Society)18: 17-32. Koortbojian, M. 2013. The Divinization of Caesar and Augustus. Precedents, Consequences, Implications. New York: Cambridge University Press. Kopij, K. 2015. The Use of Local Identities in the Monetary Propaganda of the Pompeians during the War with Caesar 49-48 BC. In Journal of Ancient History and Archaeology 2/3: 32-37. Kroll, J. H. 1993. The Athenian Agora. The Greek Coins. Vol. XXVI. Princeton, New Jersey: The American School of Classical Studies at Athens. Kroll, J. H. 1997. Traditionalism vs Romanization in Bronze Coinages of Greece, 42-31 B.C.. In Topoi 7/1: 123-136. Linderski, J. 1986. The Augural Law. In ANRW II 16.3: 21462312. Linderski, J. 1990. The surname of M.Antonius Creticus and the Cognomina Ex Victis Gentibus. In ZPE 80: 157-164. Lozier, L. A. 2002. Images of Antony. An investigation of ancient testimonia about visual representations of the triumvir Mark Antony. A dissertation submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy (Classics) at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. Metcalf, W. E. (ed.) 2012. The Oxford Handbook of Greek and Roman Coinage. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Morawiecki, L. 1983. Political Progaganda in the coinage of the Late Roman Republic. Warsaw: Zaklad Narodowy im. Ossolińskich Wydawnictwo. Morawiecki, L. 1996. Pontificalia Atque Auguralia Insignia and the Political Propaganda in the coinage of the Roman Republic. In Notae Numismaticae 1: 37-56. Newman, R. 1990. A Dialogue of Power in the Coinage of Antony and Octavian (44-30 B.C.). In AJN Second Series 2: 37-63. Pandey, N. B. 2013. Caesar’s Comet, the Julian Star, and the Invention of Augustus. In TAPhA 143: 405-449. Pedroso, Z. C. 1884. Manual de História Universal. Paris: Guillard, Aillaud e Cª. Pelling, C. B. R. (ed.) 1988. Plutarch. Life Of Antony. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Pelling, C. B. R. 1996. The Triumviral Period. In A. K. Bowman, E. Chaplin, A. Lintott (eds.) The Cambridge Ancient History Vol. X: 1-69. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Pereira, M. H. R. 2002. Estudos de História da Cultura Clássica. II Volume – Cultura Romana. Lisboa: Fundação Calouste Gulbenkian. Pickard-Cambridge, A. 1968. The Dramatic Festivals of Athens. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Ramsey, J. T. (ed.) 2003. Cicero. Philippics I-II. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Raubitschek, A. E. 1946. Octavia Deification at Athens. TAPhA 77: 146-150. Roller, D. W. 2010. Cleopatra. A Biography. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Rowan, C. 2016. Ambiguity, Iconology and Entangled Objects on Coinage of the Republican World. In JRS 106: 21-57. Santangelo, F. 2013. Divination, Prediction and the end of the Roman Republic. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Sear, D. R. 1998. The History and Coinage of the Roman Imperators 49-27 BC, London: Spink. Scott, K. 1933. The Political Propaganda of 44-30 B.C.. In American Academy in Rome 11: 7-49. Michigan, University of Michigan Press. Stewart, R. 1997. The Jug and Lituus on Roman Republican Coin Types: Ritual Symbols and Political Power. In Phoenix 51/2: 170-189. Tisé, B. 2006. Marco Antonio tra ellenismo e romanità. In G. Traina (ed.) Studi sull’età di Marco Antonio: 157-195. Lecce: Congedo Editore. Thonemann, P. 2015. The Hellenistic World. Using Coins as Sources. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Traina, G. 2003. Marco Antonio, Roma: Laterza. Valério, J. P. S. 2016. Marco António, o orador: carreira pública e oratória. In Cadmo 25: 41-55. Walker S. and Ashton S. A. (eds.) 2003. Cleopatra Reassessed, London: The British Museum. Welch, K. 2012. Dealing with Caesar: Finding Politics between 42 and 27 BC. In Antichthon 46: 126-149.

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War and Numismatics in Greek Sicily: Two Sides of the Same Coin José Miguel Puebla Morón Introduction: War and Numismatics in Greek Sicily

Tyrannies in the First Third of the Fifth Century BC

War as an historical fact in the ancient world not only left its print in destroyed materials, but also left its imprint on other media through which we can observe it, namely numismatics. The present paper will consider this idea through a case study of coinage from Greek Sicily, where military conflicts can be studied through the coinage minted by the different cities and factions.

Concerning the first period, Tyrannies from Greek colonies in Sicily during the first third of the Fifth century BC saw the minting of coinage as a way of legitimation of their power over the local population. In addition, they used it a way of control over conquered towns or over their political control territories, for which they utilised iconographic elements, mainly from the polis they exercised their control.2 These examples are the Akragantine crab in the coinage of Himera during 483-472 BC, or the quadriga crowned by a Niké from the Syracuse tetradrachms in the coinage of Gela and Leontini during the Deinomenid tyranny. These iconographic elements can be identified in some cases as representative elements of the tyrant´s figure like in the cases of Hippokrates of Gela and the depiction of the helmet in the coinage of Kamarina and Zancle, or in the coins minted by Katane-Aitna under the government of Hiero I of Syracuse.

Greek coinage, as an official document from the polis which minted it, meant a medium to spread a message from the population to whom it represented. This message must be understandable for the local population, because of being its main recipient, in addition to the rest of towns where that coinage could arrive for having common elements originating from the Greek imaginary. In the first half of the Fifth century BC, tyrannies from Greek colonies like Akragas, Gela and Syracuse replaced iconographic elements in the coinage from conquered cities, or those under their political influence, by elements related to their tyrants or their cities of origin. And a few decades later, during the last third of the Fifth century BC, it is possible to observe a change in the Sicilian mints facing the Athenian military expedition and the later Carthaginian invasion. These two warlike episodes were objectified by the minting of gold coinage and big silver nominal, like decadrachms and tetradrachms, as well as the increase of the number of dies. But this is not the only phenomenon which can be observed since the patterns, with new iconographic elements, were used for advertising facing the enemies attacks like in the case of the Akragantine coinage during the Carthaginian invasion, or the representation of local heroes in the drachms of Syracuse to attract the indigenous populations in favor to its cause facing the Athenian military expedition, as well as the depiction of a trophy in the Syracusian decadrachms after the Athenian defeat. The use of elements to commemorate a military victory as in the case of this last element, the trophy, can be carried back in time until the Athenian victory over Xerxes army and the depiction of Athena with a laurel wreath on the Athenian tetradrachms.1

It is important to emphasise the figure of Hippokrates of Gela and his policies in the Eastern Sicily, since the refoundation of Kamarina under his government involved not only the minting of new coinage with his representative element, the helmet, but the striking of coins to pay constructions in Kamarina for the fortifications of its Acropolis.3 However, in the coinage of Zancle during the Samian period the presence of the Hippokrates´ helmet is a minor element, since it appears depicted as a secondary element in a diobol next to the most characteristic iconographic element in the coinage of Samos, the prow, which shows both, its naval power and its war or military nature.4 Following this proceeding way, Anaxilas as tyrant of Rhegium, spread the hare and the biga of mules from Rhegium to Zancle, changing the name of the Poleis to Messana. This polis, Zancle-Messana, is a clear example of these policies during this period since its coinage suffered the changes caused by the different populations who were placed there by Anaxilas. In the case of the Samians,5 they were linked to the lion and the prow in the coins of Zancle, and concerning the people from the Peloponese to the polis, they were related to the new name of the polis, Messana,6 since they came from Messana in the Peloponese.

Then, during the second half of the Fourth century BC, it must be stood out the insertion of huge amounts of Corinthian staters and the imitation of them by some Sicilian towns because of the arrival of Timoleon to Sicily to fix the unstable political situation in the isle. And finally, during the last decade of the Fourth century BC and the first decade of the Third century BC we have to emphasise the iconography of the coinage minted under the tyranny of Agathocles of Syracuse and its connection with the war with Carthage.

Furthermore, it is very interesting to check that the beginning of the depictions of these war elements like the helmet, the shield or the greaves during this period coincide, as we can observe in the case of Himera, with the results from the archaeological excavations which show a rise of these Puebla Morón 2017: 304. Thuc. 6.5; Diod. 9.76.5; Jenkins 1980: 14. Hdt. 8.154; Domínguez Monedero 2001: 256; Alteri/Giampoccolo 2014: 56; Jenkins 1970: 6; Vallet 1958: 336-337; Puebla Morón 2017: 305. 5  Hdt. 6.22-23. 6  Th. 6.4.5-6. 2  3  4 

1 

Carradice 1995: 32.

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elements as a deposit in temples as a kind of offering.7 And from this period, we can observe a decrease of the offerings8 during the Fifth century BC, which coincides with the cutting of these elements in the Greek coinage from Sicily.

the celebration of the Syracusian victory over Athens since a panoply is depicted in the exergue of the obverse together with the word ΑΦΛΑ (‘trophy’). However, Caccamo Caltabiano relates these coins to a following period and the Syracusian naval expedition to the East, a moment when the polis would need a huge amount of economic resources, both options linked to war and the minting of coins with a bigger value as tetradrachms and dekadrachms.12

But they were not the only ones who utilised these elements, since mercenaries from the Italian Peninsula, who were paid to fight in these wars, minted their own coinage with elements related to their job as the Campanian helmet in the Sicilian towns where they settled: Nakona, Entella and Aitna.9

But this is not the only war in the last years of the Fifth century BC, since after the Athenian attack the war between Selinus and Segesta continued, causing the Carthaginian invasion and war which destroyed Himera and Selinus in 409 BC, and Akragas, Gela and Kamarina during 407-405 BC.

Last Third of the Fifth Century BC: Athenian Defeat and Carthaginian war As in the previous case, during the last third of the Fifth century BC, we can observe changes in the coinage of several towns from Sicily which we can link to both, the Athenian expedition and the Carthaginian war.

The main feature in the coinage minted during this period by the Greeks colonies in Sicily which were attacked by the Carthaginian army was the use of gold. These gold coins were minted by Akragas, Gela, Kamarina and Syracuse, the same towns which were attacked by the Carthaginian army, since the minting of gold is related to periods of military crisis.13

Concerning the first case, the Athenian expedition to Sicily took place during 415-413 BC, when the help from the polis was requested by the city of Segesta in its war against Selinus.10 In order to obtain the Athenians´ support, the inhabitants of Segesta tried to persuade them they were able to fund the costs of the fleet pretending they were more prosperous than they really were.

In the case of Syracuse, it is important to point the iconographic elements depicted, since the scene represented in the one hundred litrae gold coin with Herakles fighting against the Nemean lion has been interpreted as the Greek people fighting with the Carthaginian army, and Herakles was here identified as guarantor of the defence of the Greek people facing the invader enemy.

In order to feign their wealthy, they showed the offerings in the temple of Aphrodite in Eryx with cups and silver objects11 to the Athenian ambassadors. And, concerning the Elymian coinage, we can observe how during this period they minted their first tetradrachms in Segesta and Eryx, the administrative and religious centres of the Elymian territory, appearing in them iconographic elements linked to the victory as the quadriga in the tetradrachms and the litra with the eponymous nymph surrounded by an olive wreath.

Furthermore, as a result of this Carthaginian attack, the figure of Dionysius appeared in Syracuse, becoming tyrant of the polis. During his tyranny, the mint of Syracuse struck a huge amount of tetradrachms divided in around three hundred and seventy series,14 which were used for the payment of mercenaries15 who were employed for the different military conflicts against the Carthaginian army which took place during this period and ended in 383 BC.

If we analyse and compare the volume of these mintings with the previous and following periods, there were no tetradrachms in both cases, and only Eryx continued minting coinage in the fourth century BC under Carthaginian control. The volume is crucial for understanding the purpose, since we have sixteen dies of tetradrachms divided in four different series in the case of Segesta and another one in Eryx, coins which were used for external trade. And then, also in Segesta we have to add thirty-one dies of didrachms and nineteen more for litrae, so we can connect these mintings with the presence of the Athenian ambassadors in their territory and the wealthy they tried to pretend.

But the main iconographic development took place in Akragas, where we can observe two different features, the increase of the volume of mintings and the use of new iconographic elements in its coinage. Concerning the volumes, the Greek colony minted during this period eight dies of decadrachms, thirty dies of tetradrachms, two dies of didrachms and drachms and sixty five dies of hemidrachms. The use of these coins, mainly the decadrachms, tetradrachms and didrachms, would be related to big payments like the employment of mercenary troops or the building or rebuilding of defensive constructions facing the imminent Carthaginian attack. These payments can be analysed through the Diodorus Siculus work,16 since two thousand and three hundred mercenaries, one thousand and fifty hundred under the orders of Dexipo and eight hundred

If we continue with the analysis of the coinage minted during the Athenian expedition in Sicily, we must direct our attention over Syracuse, where we can observe the same process as in Elimian towns. Here, we can notice an increase of the volume of mintings and the use of coins with a higher value as the dekadrachm, with one hundred and sixty-two different dies. These dekadrachms have being considered as

Caccamo Caltabiano 1993: 129, n. 173. Carradice/Price 2010: 68. 14  This number of series minted by Syracuse and the reference come from the analysis carried out in the data base of ‘http://www. magnagraecia.nl’. 15  Jenkins 1972: 11. 16  Diod. 13.5.4. 12 

Gabaldón Martínez 2004: 69. 8  Galbaldón Martínez 2004: 161. 9  Nakona: Calciatti 1983: 326. 4; Entella: Calciatti 1983: 318. 5; Aitna: Calciatti 1983: 327. 2, 328. 3. 10  Th. 6.6 11  Th. 6.8; 6.46. 7 

13 

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Campanians, were employed to help the Akragantinan army during the Carthaginian siege.

had an important influence in the local coinage as it can be observed in the mintings of Syracuse, Leontini, Kamarina, Rhegium, Ameselon, Kephaloidion, Nakona and Panormo.21

Concerning the iconographic elements, the coinage minted by Akragas during this period included the use of new elements and scenes such as the grasshopper, Apollo-Helios driving the quadriga, Skylla, Cethos or the eagle devouring a horse.

The other feature related to the presence of Timoleon in Sicily was the use of new iconographic elements: the laureate head of Apollo on the obverses and the Lyre on the reverses. This composition can be seen in the coinage of Adranon, Kentoripai and Ameselon. The obverses show clearly the laureate head of Apollo while on the reverses it is depicted the lyre, iconographic symbol of the Greek god, taking up all the reverse as a main element.

These new elements could express a message of strength and victory facing the enemy,17 the Carthaginian army, since the figure of Apollo-Helios and the grasshopper could be identified with Apollo Parnopios in his role as liberator of plagues, a common illness during the Carthaginian wars.18

If we analyse the tour which Timoleon carried out over Sicily, we can check that Adranon,22 Ameselon,23 Centuripe24 and even Tauromenion25 minted these series with Apollo´s head after the presence of the Corinthian liberator of tyrannies. But these new types are new in Sicily, so it must be analysed if they were an innovation of the local coin workers or an import from Greece.

Furthermore, the depiction of Skylla and Cethos could be linked to the dangers of the sea since, according the sources, Skylla attacked the ships capturing them and the Carthaginian army came through the sea, being Akragas one of its first aims in its way to Syracuse.19 So these representations of Skylla and Cethos could be interpreted as the invocation of mythical monsters facing the Carthaginian attack.

The first and only depiction of the lyre in the Sicilian coinage during the previous periods is in the mintings of Leontini and Catane, where it appears as a secondary symbol linked to Apollo´s figure, and only as a main element in a reverse from Catane.26

And in the third place, the depiction of the eagle devouring a horse, a clear parallel of the famous Akragantine scene with the two eagles devouring a hare, could be identified as the victory of the city of Akragas, the eagle, over the Carthaginian army, the horse, since this animal was one of the main iconographic elements in the coinage minted by Carthage.

However, if we increase the search in a wider area, we can observe how the same composition was taken place in Greece one hundred years before in two very specific points, Olynthos as the capital of the Chalcidian League, and Megara.

So, in the case of the Akragantine coinage during the Carthaginian attack, we could say that there is an iconographic programme or, at least, a clear intention to depict several iconographic elements related to the victory and defence of the city facing the attack of the Carthaginian army.

Connecting these two towns with the Timoleon´s presence in Sicily is not difficult if we consider the use of mercenaries who he employed on his trip and landing in the island,27 as well as the contingents which were send from Corinth as help during his presence in Sicily.28

Second Half of the Fourth Century BC: Timoleon The arrival of Timoleon from Corinth to Sicily to solve the political problems in the island marked two features in the coinage of this period from 344 to 336 BC, the presence of staters from Corinth in Sicily and the introduction of new iconographic elements in the coinage from the different towns to which he freed from their tyrannies.

So, it is likely that part of these mercenaries came from a nearby town of Corinth like Megara, only twenty kilometres of distance from Corinth, or even from Macedonian territory, from where many Olinthians could spread after the destruction of their city by Philip II of Macedonia in 348 BC. Moreover, we know by Diodorus Siculus that among the Timoleon´s troops there were mercenaries who had been under the orders of the nearby territory of Thessaly and Macedonia and Phocis, which were part of the Phocian League which sacked the treasure of Delphi.29

Regarding the arrival and presence of staters from Corinth, the main influence can be seen in the coinage of Syracuse, the main Corinthian colony in Sicily, since the polis minted staters for the first time in its history copying the models from Corinth and designing a new one in which Zeus Eleutherios appears depicted as liberator of the tyrannies. And concerning the rest of Greek colonies in Sicily, we can also observe copies of Corinthian staters in the coinage of settlements where Timoleon crossed in his tour over the island such as Rhegium and Leontini.

Rutter 1997: 166. Diod. 16.68.9-10, 69.3. 23  Diod. 16.82.4-5. 24  Diod. 16.82.4. 25  Diod. 16.68.7-8. 26  Cammarata 1984: pl. 1/B, 19n. 27  Diod. 16.66.2: ‘He [Timoleon] enrolled seven hundred mercenaries and, putting his men aboard four triremes and three fast-sailing ships, set sail from Corinth. As he coasted along he picked up three additional ships from the Leucadians and the Corcyraeans, and so with ten ships he crossed the Ionian Gulf.’. 28  Diod. 16.69.4-5. 29  Diod. 16.78.3. 21  22 

But the depiction of Pegasus in the coinage of Sicily during this period must be also analysed together with the presence of these Corinthian staters. The huge amounts of these coins, which were sent from Corinth20 to pay the Timoleon´s army, Rutter 1997: 149. Diod. 13.86.2, 114; 14.70.4, 71; 15.24.2-3, 73.1; Finley 1979: 78. 19  Diod. 13.81-90. 20  Diod. 16.69. 4-5. 17  18 

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Last Decade of the Fourth Century: Agathocles

Conclusions

Finally, it is important to remark two coins minted during the Agathokles´ tyranny in Syracuse and his war against Carthage during 312-306 BC. The first one is a one hundred gold litrae coin with a male head wearing elephant skin on the obverse and Athena on the reverse, which has been related to the beginning of the military campaign because of the depiction of Athena Promachos (Attack during the battle), since she appears represented with her father´s fulmen.

In conclusion, the appearance and development of coinage as a way of exchange in the local economies in Sicily created a new tool with which historians can determine, record and analyse specific historic moments like in the case of wars. This is due to a series of features which appear in the Sicilian mintings during wars, such as the use of gold coinage and coins with a higher value like decadrachms and tetradrachms, as well as an increase in the volume of mintings in comparison with previous periods.

If we analyse the obverse, the male head wearing elephant skin could be linked to the military campaign against Carthaginians in Africa by Agathokles30 in 310 BC, what would coincide with the minting of different gold coins with the depiction of Athena´s figure, since gold minting in ancient Greece is associated with periods of economic necessity as this military campaign in Africa could be.

But the first feature which appeared was the use of local iconographic elements in other coinages from cities under their political control, since these messages have their best example in the attempt of the Sicilian tyrannies of showing the range of their power in the coinage of the towns under their political control as in the cases of the tyrannies of Hippokrates and Gelon of Gela, Teron of Akragas, Hiero I of Syracuse and Anaxilas of Rhegium, all of them belonging to the same forty years period, from 498 to 461 BC, so we could consider as a common feature this attempt of showing their political control in towns under their territorial sphere of influence by the use of iconographic elements in their coinages from the city which exerted the control over the rest of towns.

The elephant skin requires an analysis for its possible meaning. We are in the Hellenistic period, with a great influence in everything related to the image of Alexander the Great for the legitimation of Hellenistic monarchies. This coin reminds one of the Alexander´s tetradrachms with him wearing the Nemean lion skin as Herakles, but in this case we have no doubt that it is a direct influence of the Ptolemy I Soter tetradrachms wearing elephant skin. The link between both coins could be the help provided by Ofelas, Ptolemaic ruler of Kyrene, during this campaign in Africa.31

Furthermore, we have to consider as common characteristics the minting of gold coins, the use of coins with higher value like decadrachms and tetradrachms, and also the increase of minting volumes during a war period as it happened in the last third of the fifth century BC with the Athenian attack and defeat and the Carthaginian war.

The second coin is a tetradrachm with Persephone on the obverse and a Niké erecting a trophy on the reverse.32 This coin also coincides with military campaign in Africa,33 which has been related34 to the Diodorus Siculus fragment about a ‘clear divine sign of victory’.

And we must also keep in mind the coinage from the Greek colony of Akragas before the Carthaginian attack in 406 BC. Here, in addition to a considerable increase in the number and volume of its coinage and the minting of coins with a high nominal value, both as a symptomatic feature of a war period, it can also be observed the appearance of new iconographic elements in the coinage of Akragas which can be interpreted as the attempt of representation of an iconographic programme. In this iconographic programme it would be expressed the support of the main deities from the local pantheon, like Zeus and Apollo, and supernatural beings from the Greek mythology in Sicily as Scylla, before the imminent attack of the Carthaginian army which would finish with the conquest and the subsequent sack of the town.

Furthermore, Barclay Head35 linked the fact that there is no reference to Agathokles as Basileus in the coin to a previous moment of minting before his acceptance of the title36 in 307 BC, title which will appear in the Syracusian coinage from this date, what coincides with the fragment about the owls as a divine sign of victory before he was proclaimed basileus of Syracuse. So, this type of depictions was included inside the advertising of victory during the Hellenistic period37 through the images in coins, imitating the reverse of Seleucus I tetradrachms with the Niké erecting a trophy.38

And finally, in the Fourth century BC we can observe the cases of the coinage linked to Timoleon and Agathokles. The first one in relation to the presence of coins as the Corinthian staters and iconographic elements like Apollo´s laureate head and the lyre, which appeared in the coinage from the towns he crossed in his military campaign over Sicily, and the second coinage linked to iconographic elements and scenes in the mintings of Syracuse related to Agathokles war against Carthage in Africa.

Diod. 20.3. Diod. 20.70. 32  Poole 1876: 196. 388; Robinson 1971: 334. 33  Carradice/Price 2010: 115. 34  Head 1887: 159; Diod. 20.11.3-4: ‘Seeing that his soldiers were frightened by the great numbers of barbarian cavalry and infantry, he let loose into the army in many places owls, which he had long since prepared as a means of relieving the discouragement of the common soldiers. The owls, flying through the phalanx and settling on the shields and helmets, encouraged the soldiers, each man regarding this as an omen because the bird is held sacred to Athena.’. 35  Head 1887: 159. 36  Diod. 20.54.1. 37  Jenkins 1972: 144. 38  Carradice 1995: 62. 30  31 

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Jenkins, G. K. & Westermark, U. 1980. The Coinage of Kamarina, London: Royal Numismatic Society. Jenkins, G. K. 1972. Ancient Greek Coins. London: Seaby. Jenkins, G. K. 1970. The Coinage of Gela. Berlin: De Gruyter. Poole, R. S. 1876. A Catalogue of Greek Coins in The British Museum. Sicily. London: The trustees of the British Museum. Puebla Morón, J. M. 2017. Medios de control y formas de legitimación del poder de las tiranías en Sicilia durante el primer tercio del siglo V a.C.: el caso de la numismática. In A. Domínguez Monedero et al (ed.) Formas, manifestaciones y Estructuras del Poder Político en el Mundo Antiguo: 303-319. Madrid: Universidad Autónoma de Madrid. Robinson. E. S. G. 1971. Catalogue of the Calouste Gulbenkian Collection of Greek Coins: Part I: Italy, Sicily, Carthague. Lisboa: Fundacao Calouste Gulbenkian. Rutter, N. K. 1997. Greek Coinages of southern Italy and Sicily. London: Spink. Thucydides, Peloponesian War (Translated by Dent J.  M. (London: Everyman´s Library, 1910). Vallet, G. 1958. Rhégion et Zancle. Histoire, commerce et civilization des cites chalcidiennes du détroit de Messine. Paris: E. de Boccard.

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Iconography of Poseidon in Greek Coinage María Isabel Rodríguez López aforementioned image of the god is duplicated, as if it were a mirror image: the front in relief and direct movement, while the incuse reverse indicates a retrograde movement. The Greek legend POS identifies the city on both sides of the coin; the representation depicts the moment before the trident is thrown by the god, which determines a characteristic position of the figure with the lower limbs open, while flexing its right arm (holding the trident) and stretching the left, indicating the imminent movement. A small chlamys (ending straight or in ‘V’) partially covers his arms and shoulders, while the torso is represented frontally on the obverse (in the oldest examples). The face of the god is majestic and bearded; the long hair presents a similar hairstyle to the Kuroi, tidily distributed in braids and up do in the superior part of the head with a stephané (Figure 1).

Since the 6th century BC, many Greek cities, especially those by the sea, used in their coins the image of Poseidon as an emblem of their power, following well-known prototypes developed in other artistic media, especially in sculpture. In this paper, we will outline an approach to the iconography of the sea god through the different typologies forged, from the early Archaic Period to the Hellenistic one, establishing a formal and semantic comparison between the iconographic prototypes present in the monetary coinage and in other arts. Standing Poseidon brandishing his trident Poseidonia. The effigy of Poseidon emerged as a monetary iconographic prototype in the city of Poseidonia, a commercial foundation by the Greeks from Sybaris, who settled in Magna Graecia with the help of the Achaeans of Troezen in the late 8th century or early 7th century BC.1 Its geographical position favoured the contact with Etruscan and Samnites as well as its deep Hellenisation, which was not affected by the capture of the city by the Lucanians (around 415-410 BC). From 530 onwards, the city was at its peak and experienced an increase in infrastructure building which coincided with the minting of silver and gold coins.2

The iconographic prototype described is very suitable as an expression of the power of the great gods, Zeus Keraunios (wielding the thunder) and Poseidon, releasing his rays or trident respectively; it is a prototype known to us through numerous artistic works, mainly large sculptures, small statuettes6 and Greek ceramics. Among others, we would like to highlight the importance of the wellknown bronze representation of Zeus of Ugento (530-520 BC, National Archaeological Museum of Taranto, Puglia), initially identified as Poseidon,7 or the numerous archaic statuettes of Zeus, as well as the no less remarkable Zeus of Dodona8 (National Archaeological Museum of Athens, X16546)9 and other similar examples.10 The monetary dies adopted this iconographic scheme as the archaic archetype characteristic of the two great divine siblings, Zeus and Poseidon, similar to each other and only differentiated by their iconographic attributes.

As in many other cities of Magna Graecia during the 6th century BC, in Poseidonia coins were minted with the incuse technique:3 a die with extraordinary quality that permitted the same design to show on the obverse and the reverse, but with a concave impression on the reverse. The emblem adopted by the Achaeans as a symbol of their city was the image of the sea god Poseidon brandishing his trident. This choice is not surprising, since Poseidon had been the most important god of the Achaeans since Mycenaean times4 and, according to one tradition, one of their first kings was the son of Poseidon, a god who was especially revered in the city inhabited mostly by the Achaeans in the 7th century BC. In this first phase, stamens, drachma obols and hemiobols were coined.5 The iconography of the oldest coins in Poseidonia shows the sea god standing and naked in a dynamic attitude, holding the trident; they are bilingual coins in which the

Among the authors that noted the iconographic relation between sculpture and coins: Lehman 1946 and G. Gorini, 1975. 7  The sculpture (height: 74 cm) was casually found in a private house in 1961 and initially identified as Poseidon. Fortunately, archaeological excavations in the area allowed scholars to reconsider and associate the bronze with Zeus. Picture on line http://www.giannicarluccio. it/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2016/09/TARANTO-23.8.2016MUSEO-NAZIONALE-copyright-ING.-GIANNI-CARLUCCIO-7.jpg 8  Famous bronze statuette from the sanctuary of Zeus Naios in Dodona (Epirus), where the father of all gods was worshipped as Zeus Dodonaios along with the Mother Goddess (Dione) in the most famous and ancient of all the Greek oracles. In relation to the Dodona rituals, see: Gartziou-Tatti 1990; Parke, 1967; Pötscher 1966, Rachet 1962. Main literary sources about the cult: http://www.theoi.com/ Cult/ZeusDodonaiosCult.html 9  Picture online: http://www.namuseum.gr/collections/bronze/ classiki/classic03-en.html 10  Examples: GlyptothekMunich 4339. 6 

Brousseau 2003: 7 ff. Ebner 1964; Catalli 1995; Grunauer 1973: 25-45; Kraay 1967: 113 ff; Rutter 1997; Sallusto 1979. 3  Gorini 2001:18. 4  Robertson 1984: 1-16; Rutherford 2013: 256-279; Chadwick 1978: 99100, 106, 126-130. 5  Taliercio-Mensitieri 1987:133-183. 1  2 

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Figure 1. Lucania, Poseidonia AR Stater ( 7.53g, 30mm). Circa 530-500 BC. Legend: ΠOΣ behind / Incuse of obverse, but with ΠOΣ in relief. Sketch by the author based on http://www.coinarchives.com/a80cd8448658ae02b85e0ca920ed44e9/img/roma/013/image00030.jpg In the case of Poseidon, this model had an extensive iconographic tradition: the evolution of the prototype was subjected to the exigencies imposed by the artistic styles but, in its essence, the ‘life’ of this icon was extremely durable. After the fall of Sybaris in 510 BC, Poseidonia’s minting underwent several modifications: technically, the most prominent was the production of double relief coins, smaller in size and altered in weight.11 These technical changes brought about certain novelties from an iconographic point of view: while on the obverse of the coin the image of the sea god inherited from the Archaic period survived, the usual icon on the reverse was a bull advancing in a retrograde position and, less frequently, to the right, situated over the exergue12 (Figure 2). This model with the bull remained current, with slight changes, until the end of the city’s mintages;13 in some coins of late date, the animal is portrayed in a very naturalistic and dynamic attitude, thrusting, along a dolphin.14 The bull was an animal associated with the marine god, sacrificed to him in special celebrations from Mycenaean times;15 occasionally,

it might be considered that the bull’s effigy was equivalent to the divinity itself (his symbol) as suggested by certain drachma issues from Thrace.16 This relationship is explained by the power of the sea god and his germination capacity. A variety of artistic media shows similar images to those that were minted in the coins of Poseidonia, from ceramics to monumental effigies of the god, such as the famous bronze recovered at Cape Artemision (Eubea) (National Archaeological Museum of Athens, n. 151161). The provenance of this colossal sculpture, dated around 460 BC, has been the object of great controversy due to the lack of any iconographic attribute that could help to establish its identity. Mylonas17 made a very interesting iconographic analysis of the work based on literary descriptions and analogues. He concluded that it was a god, not an athlete, and that he was Zeus, not Poseidon. Nevertheless, scholars have not reached an agreement on the subject, yet. In our opinion, the difficulty of distinguishing Zeus from Poseidon in the absence of a specific attribute relies in the fact that Greek artists, when they were approaching the zenith of Classicism, forged generic archetypes conceived as the plastic expression of a powerful god, perfect in its anatomical conformation and oblivious to the triviality of this world. A divine image, beyond time, that with his weapons (rays, trident, arrow, etc.) could work wonders and change the established order. This is why Zeus, Poseidon and Hades, the three sons of Cronus, had similar iconographic features from 460 BC onwards, as they embodied the generic idea of a god. Their representations were adapted to the styles in vogue, without diminishing their divine majesty.

It is considered that the incuse technique disappeared around 500 BC; some authors point out that it could have existed a gap of 25 or 30 years until the innovation of coins of double relief was implemented, although the issue is very complex. See:Brousseau 2004: 58 ff. 12  Many examples can be view in this database: http://www. coinarchives.com/a/results.php?results=100&search=Poseidonia; http://coinproject.com/search_city_result. php?city=Poseidonia®ion=LUCANIA&type=1 13  Brousseau 2004: 78; AA.VV. 1973. 14  As an example, see the coins from the second half of the 4th century BC or the first decades of the 3rd century BC. Picture online https://www.deamoneta.com/auctions/view/103/1021 15  In Homer we can find references to the bulls sacrifices offered in honour to Poseidon: As the sun sprang up, leaving the brilliant waters in its wake,/climbing the bronze sky to shower light on inmortal gods/and mortal men across the plowlands ripe with grain-/the ship pulled into Pylos, Neleus´storied citadel,/where the people lined the beaches,/sacrificingt sleek black bulls to Poseidon/god of the sea-blue mane who shakes the earth (Odyssey III, 1-10). Flages (trans.): 1996. ...As he died,/panting his life away, he screamed—just as a bull roars,/when it’s pulled around the altar of 11 

Poseidon,/lord of Helice, the Earthshaker... (Iliad, XX, 404-406).  Johnston (trans.): 2000. 16  Mylonas 1944: 143-160. 17  Mylonas 1944: 143-160.

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Figure 2. Lucania, Poseidonia.  AR Nomos (8.02 gr, 17mm). Circa 470-445 BC. Sketch by the author based on https://www.numisbids.com/n.php?p=lot&sid=1081&lot=11 All of the above seems to suggest that the artisan-artists who minted the coin prototypes were in contact with the stylistic movements of their era and that the relationship and mutual influence between the effigies in the coins and the pictorial and/or plastic representations was very close. It would seem most probable that the great sculpture marked the iconographic and stylistic pattern, however, we have no evidence to know in which artistic media the prototypes were actually created. Moreover, as Mylonas18 pointed out, we cannot affirm that in every minting the coins copied the iconography provided by the cult statues. We can only state this on a few occasions, as in Cnidus with the sculpture of Praxiteles19 or in Elis, where coins reproduced the chryselephantine sculpture of Phidias,20 which was copied many centuries later in coins from Hadrian times.21 In any case, every artistic discipline followed the prototype present in the coins from Poseidonia, modifying and adapting it according to the circumstances and different fashions.

of Poseidonia, although with an improved technique and a peculiar and new iconographic detail: the chlamys of the god rolls on his left arm, from which if falls in parallel ends. The decoration of the coin is completed with the monograms of Macedonia and with the inscription allusive to Basileus Demetrius Poliorcetes (Figure 3). Demetrius, son of Antigonus I, succeeded in his in the sea enterprises and was called for his deeds ‘son of Poseidon’.22 Standing and Resting Poseidon Crete. Rhaukos. The staters and didrachms issued by the Aegean League and coined in Rhaukos23 in the 4th century BC show the god on the obverse, standing and holding the trident in the right hand while the reins of the horse (which is behind him) in the left one. The reverse of the coin depicts the monograph PAY-KION and a trident24 (Figure 4). Boeotia. The association between Demeter (or Kore) and Poseidon was portrayed in the coinage by the Boeotian League, around the central years of the 3rd century BC. On the obverse of these coins is the face of the goddess crowned with spikes, while on the reverse is the image of standing Poseidon, with trident and dolphin by the shield and anagram of Boeotia, along with the inscription BOIOTON (Figure 5). The iconography of standing Poseidon, with trident on his right hand derives from the attic sculpture prototypes of the 4th century BC, constantly repeated in Hellenistic and Roman times, as can be seen, among others, in the Poseidon from Melos (National Archaeological Museum of Athens, n. 235).25

Macedonia. During the 4th century BC, the kings of Macedonia became famous as sea experts, hence it was not unreasonable for them to use the image of Poseidon to express their maritime sovereignty, or even to boast about their power by identifying themselves with the sea god. There are several monetary types that are characteristic of these mints. One of them shows on the obverse a ship with a Nike on the prow, while the reverse shows the sea god, standing towards the left, brandishing his trident, following the archaic prototype Mylonas 1944: 158. https://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Afrodita_de_Cnido#/media/ File:Knidos-coin-Aphrodite.jpg 20  Seemann 1888 http://www.maicar.com/GML/000Iconography/ Nike/slides/see016.html; Harry Thurston Peck 1898 http://www. perseus.tufts.edu/Olympics/faq11.html. 21  See this magnificent representation housed in the Archaeological Museum of Florence. http://www.ancient.eu/uploads/images/5418. jpg?v=1485682311 18  19 

Considered son of Poseidon and Aphrodite. See Holton 2014: 370390. 23  http://snible.org/coins/hn/crete.html#rhaucus 24  https://www.numisbids.com/n.php?p=lot&sid=1480&lot=84 25  http://www.namuseum.gr/collections/sculpture/hellenistic/ hellenistic14-en.html 22 

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Figure 3. Macedonia, Pella. Stater, Silver. Circa 294- 293 AC Legend reverse: BA-SILEW-S / DHMHTRIOU/ (IW). (17,05gr, 26,5mm.). ). Sketch by the author based on http://vso.numishop.eu/fiche-v51_0101-vso_mo-1-MACEDOINE_ROYAUME_DE_MACEDOINE_DEMETRIUS_POLIORCETE_ Tetradrachme_c_294_293_AC_.html

Figure 4. Crete, Rhaukos.  Stater, Silver (26mm, 11.36 g 12). Circa 330-270 BC. Legend: Rev. ΡΑ-ΥΚ-[ΙΟΝ] (retrograde). Own sketch based on https://www.numisbids.com/n.php?p=lot&sid=1480&lot=84 Macedonia. Many mints in the kingdom of Macedonia adopted an iconographic prototype to represent the marine god inherited from the most well-known sculptures. The Poseidon of Isthmios by Lysippos26 could be considered as the favourite iconographic prototype among Greek artists from the second half of the 4th century BC. It was recreated, among others, in the Poseidon of Eleusis (Eleusis Archaeological 26 

Museum)27 and the Poseidon of the Lateran Museum.28 It is the image of Hellenistic Poseidon par excellence:29 the https://www.tumblr.com/search/archaeological%20museum%20 of%20eleusis 28  http://ancientrome.ru/art/artworken/img.htm?id=2014 29  This prototype would be the origin of the Roman iconography of the god, assimilated to Neptune, represented in numerous occasions by artists: see the Poseidon of Pella, the Poseidon of the Olympia Museum or the Pompeian frescoes: Rodríguez 2002: 187-269. 27 

Zadoks-Jitta 1937: 224-226.

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Figure 5. Boeotia. Federal Coinage, AR Drachm, Circa 250 BC. (5.09g, 18mm) Legend: BOIWTWN. Own sketch based on http://www.wildwinds.com/coins/greece/boeotia/BMC_077.jpg standing god appears naked, holding his trident and another marine attribute in his hands; he rests one of his legs, flexed, on an object higher than the ground (preferably the bow of a ship or a dolphin), while his body rests on his other leg. His hair is abundant, short and wavy, with a diadem on some occasions. The open composition and the expectant attitude of this figure suggest the presence of another one, hinting at the possibility of this being originally a sculptural group, which Lysippus himself might have used as a model. Some scholars have pointed out that it could have been a work that represented the dispute between Athena and Poseidon, characters separated by an olive branch. This bronze sculptural monument was described by Pausanias30 and was located near the north flank of the Parthenon; it must have been similar to the composition depicted in pottery from Southern Italy.31

6). The same archetype, known as Poseidon Pelagaios (god of the sea) was used in the mints of Pella,35 Chalkis (Euboea)36 and Thebes.37 His body, almost naked (only a mantle partially covers his legs) shows a vigorous and slender figure, of powerful musculature, analogous to the usual prototypes of the 3rd century BC. The bearded face is also characteristic of the most popular prototypes from Hellenistic times, similar to the one that appears in many coins. Balkh. The process of deification of the Macedonian monarchs, portrayed on the obverse of the coins as if they were the god himself, culminated in the reign of Antiochus I. Some tetradrachms from Balkh’s mint show the diademed head and draped bust of the king with the kausia. The inscription on the reverse ΒΑΣΙΛΕΩΣ ΘEOU ANTIMAXOU clearly explains the divine condition of the monarch, while the idea of triumph is emphasised by the palm branch that Poseidon holds in his hand (Figure 7).

This statuary model prevailed in the silver tetradrachms of Amphipolis (Eastern Macedonia), one of the most active mints in the Greek world since Philip II;32 during the reign of Demetrius Poliorcetes (337-283 BC), the deified sovereign’s head (with bull’s horns, diademed head and wide open eyes)33 is on the obverse, while the sea god appears on the back, leaning his right bending knee on a rock and turning his gaze to the left, holding the aplustrum on his right hand and the trident on his left one, as a symbol of his power. The inscription ΒΑΣΙΛΕΩΣ ΔΗΜΗΤΡΙΟΥ is next to the god, who grants his power to the undefeated Macedonian king34 (Figure

Poseidon Hippios Potidaea. Potidaea was a Greek colony of Corinth located in the Thermaic Gulf (Macedonia) which began its mintage in the year 500 BC. However, with the siege of Potidaea by the Athenians (432-429 BC) the silver coinage came to an end. The bronze coins date from the 4th century BC, before 358 BC, when Philip of Macedonia took the city and gave it to the inhabitants of Olynthus. Its name is the eponymous of the

Pausanias I, 24,3. Athena and Poseidon. Side A from a Faliscan red-figure volutekrater., Louvre CA 7426 https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/ File:Athena_Poseidon_Louvre_CA7426.jpg 32  Boston Museum Fine Arts 710.Newell 120; Pozzi 1963; HGC 1015b. https://www.vcoins.com/en/stores/sergey_nechayev_ancient_ coins/200/product/demetrios_i_poliorketes_289bc_poseidon_silver_ greek_tetradrachm_coin_ngc_ch_xf/842804/Default.aspx 33  Demetrius was the first to assimilate elements of Alexander’s deified portrait and the first living ruler to portray himself as a god on coins. 34  http://www.coinarchives.

com/75454e749c81c5e4ecd5651cc52ef6a9/img/nomos/014/ image00100.jpg 35  http://www.coinarchives. com/77cf7fe446451fa8504b69368d7ad24f/img/cng/e/398/ image00056.jpg 36  http://www.coinarchives. com/3d6db55865335fa88697d99f3e2563db/img/cng/105/ image00092.jpg 37  http://vilmarnumismatics.com/product/demetrius-poliorcetessilver-tetradrachms-thebes-mint-issue-with-powerful-realisticportrait-choice-xf-fine-style-ngc-graded-greek-macedonian-coininv-10577/

30  31 

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Figure 6. Macedonia, Amphipolis. Demetrios I Poliorketes. 306-283 BC. AR Tetradrachm (17.17 gr 27.5mm,). Circa 289–288 BC. Own sketch based on http://www.coinarchives.com/74493d51459c86745a62f927ae3dc79e/img/cng/106/image00224.jpg

Figure 7. Baktria. Antimachos I Theos. AR Tetradrachm (16.75 g, 34mm) Circa 180-170 BC. Own sketch based on http://edgarlowen.com/antimachos-10851.jpg sea god, where a special cult to him might have developed, as it is no coincidence that the most characteristic type of his tetradrachms evoked the sacred image of Poseidon mentioned by Herodotus (VIII 129), which stood at the entrance of the city.38 The monetary prototype of this city shows Poseidon as Poseidon Hippios, according to the ancient Achaean tradition, god of the horses. The god, dressed as a horse rider

or a warrior, grasps the trident with his right hand and the reins of the animal with his left one. The relationship between the sea divinity and the horse is very close: the etymology of his name (πόσις δᾶ: husband of the earth) alludes to his primordial condition of a chthonic and infernal god.39 The Homeric Hymn to Poseidon makes him a tamer of the horses and saviour of ships and, in Greek literature, Poseidon appears as the creator, father or giver of horses, which were consecrated to him, as also were the races of this animal. In

The Potidaeans say that the cause of the high sea and flood and the Persian disaster lay in the fact that those same Persians who now perished in the sea had profaned the temple and the image of Poseidon which was in the suburb of the city. I think that in saying that this was the cause they are correct. Those who escaped alive were led away by Artabazus to Mardonius in Thessaly. This is how the men who had been the king’s escort fared. Herodotus VIII, 129, 3. Godley (trans.): 1920. 38 

vid. Chantraine 1968 s.v. Ποσειδῶν and Beekes 2010 s.v. πόσις. Beekes, R (2010) Etymological Dictionary of Greek. Ed. Brill, LeidenBoston. Chantraine, P. (1968) Dictionnaire étymologique de la langue grecque. Histoire des mots (2 vols.: Α - Κ y Λ - Ω), Ed. Klincksieck, Paris. 39 

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Figure 8. Potidaea. Tetradrachm AR (16.78 gr). Circa 500-480 BC. Own sketch based on https://www.numisbids.com/n.php?p=lot&sid=1080&lot=596 Arcadia the god was worshipped in an equine shape.40 It is no coincidence, therefore, that the iconography shows him as a rider, although his most characteristic mount was the sea horse, adapted to the marine realm in which he reigns.

coins represent him,44 and that after that feat, he founded Taranto.45 The most beautiful monetary example of a seated Poseidon is to be found on the reverse46 of a magnificent gold stater from the 4th century BC,47 in which we see a passionate plea of the infant to his father, who attends him affectionately. It is a very peculiar coin, perhaps based on a statuary group, which some specialists believe to be linked to an important historical event.48 Poseidon is seated, with beautiful features and Classical style; he holds the trident in his hand while listening with attentive gesture to the little infant, who stretches his arms towards him. The inscription Tarantinan and a flower complete the die (Figure 9). The iconography of the god emulates the prototype forged in Athens during the second half of the 5th century BC: naked and perfect torso, a chlamys covering his legs, abundant and wavy hair, full beard and a calm and contained attitude, a prototype very similar to the one that can be observed in the sculpted frieze of the Parthenon (Athens, Museum of Acropolis).

The first coins from Potidaea are dated around 500 BC.41 The obverse of the tetradrachms shows the image of Poseidon as a bearded and naked rider, the head protected by a small helmet, holding the trident in one hand and the reins in the other. Between the legs of the animal, which heads to the right, a seven-pointed star can be seen (symbol of Macedonia). On the reverse there is an incuse square divided by diagonal lines (Figure 8). The image of the sea god is almost identical in the tetrobolos and hemiobolos, although in some cases, the image of the god-rider disappears and the horse is shown as the very symbol of the god.42 Seated Poseidon Taranto. Taranto was a Spartan colony founded around 706 BC43 and its importance lay in its port, the first safe place in the West for ships coming from Greece. Due to its wealth, it became the most important city of Italy: it is not strange, therefore, that the Taranto dies also exhibit marine motifs as emblems of their coins. According to a well-known legend, Taras or Tarante (son of Poseidon and the local nymph Satyria) was the founder of the city to which he gave his name; it is said that he had crossed the sea from the promontory of Taenarum to the south of Italy riding on a dolphin, as the

Boeotia. Thebes. In the last quarter of the 3rd century BC, the silver tetradrachms of the Boeotian Confederation presented a unique iconographic type with an expressive had of Zeus49 Brauer 1986. Bracci 2007. 46  On the obverse: Hera’s beautiful effigy facing right. 47  British Museum n. 1898,0706.1; Berlin Staatliche Museen 1878/572 http://ikmk.smb.museum/ object?lang=en&id=18214714&view=rs&type=default; Calouste Goulbenkian Museum https://gulbenkian.pt/museu/en/works_ museu/greek-coin/. 48  From the middle of the 4th century BC Tarentum to ask for help from foreign military leaders.This type was chosen, probably, to symbolize the help that Tarentum asked for its motherland Sparta. See Robinson 1991: vol I, 28. 49  The identification is now under revision, it is believed to be Zeus’ head and not Poseidon’s. See https://www.cngcoins.com/Coin. aspx?CoinID=163559 44  45 

Köhnken1974: 199-206; Maitland1999:1-13. Nobuo, K.Komita1985. Alexander 1953: 201-17. 42  http://www.wildwinds.com/coins/greece/macedonia/potidaea/ SNGANS_693ff.jpg 43  Its coinage is characterized by a silver production (from about 510 to 209  BC), followed by minting in gold (second half of the 4th / beginning of the 3rd century  BC) and in bronze (3rd century  BC.), SeeSicliano http://www.bridgepugliausa.it/articolo.asp?id_sez=1&id_ cat=49&id_art=3668&lingua=en 40  41 

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Figure 9. Tarentum. Gold Stater. First half of the fourth century. Legend: Tarantinon. Own sketch based on http://www.bridgepugliausa.it/images/art_gallery/201318192046.jpg

Figure 10. BOEOTIA, Federal Coinage. Thebes. Silver Tetradrachm (17.13 gr, 12 mm) Legend: Rev. ΒΟΙΩΤΩΝ Circa 287 BC. Own sketch based on https://nomosag.com/source/images/auctions/2/image00071.jpg on the obverse and an enthroned Poseidon with trident and dolphin on the reverse, along with the inscription ΒΟΙΩΤΩΝ. We would like to highlight the detailed image of the god’s throne, which finished in lion claws and his front is decorated with the characteristic shield of Boeotia50 (Figure 10).

king divinised51 on the obverse and Poseidon on the reverse,52 seated on a rock to the left, with the aplustrum and trident or sceptre.53 Byzantium. As we have seen, the mints in the ancient kingdom of Macedonia coined the image of the sea god in different ways. In the 340 BC the old Byzantium became

Macedonia. Pella and Other mints. Among the coins issued during the reign of Demetrius I Poliorcetes from different mints, there are silver tetradrachms showing the head of the

50 

The obverse is identical to the coins we have described above in which Poseidon appears standing as Poseidon Pelagaios, with the bending leg and resting on a rock. See above. 52  Vide supra. 53  http://www.wildwinds.com/coins/greece/macedonia/kings/ demetrios_poliorcetes/Newell_100.jpg 51 

http://www.wildwinds.com/coins/greece/boeotia/BMC_063.jpg

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Figure 11 Thrace. Byzantion. Tetradrachm (13,19 g., 27 mm). Circa 240-220 BC. Legend: BY/In exergo: EΠI MATPIOΣ.Own sketch based on http://www.coinarchives.com/e9db8a5a8678ccab99d228b8ebfe878a/img/naumann/049/image00073.jpg occupied by Philip of Macedonia and in the tetradrachms from the mid-3rd century, we find again the composition of the goddess of earth and the god of sea on the obverse and reverse, respectively.54 The obverse shows the effigy of veiled Demeter, in profile, identified as the goddess of the fertile fields, due to the crown of spikes that adorns his forehead. On the reverse, Poseidon is facing right seated on a rock, represented as Poseidon Asphalaios (God of the earthquakes). The inscriptions By (Byzantium) and the name relative to the magistrate under whose mandate the coin was minted complete the group ( Epi Matrios in the example) (Figure 11).

artists as the favourite image of the sea god. Many cities by the sea, in which the cult of Poseidon was of great importance, coined this recurrent model until the mid-2nd century BC. This version would later be adopted by the Romans. Achaea (Peloponnesus). In Helike (Boeotia), a city submerged by a tsunami in 373 BC,55 it is believed that Poseidon must have been the object of special veneration. The Homeric Hymn in honour of Poseidon considers him lord of the place (‘god of the deep who is also lord of Helikon (Helicon) and wide Aigai (Aegae).’) Hom Hymn. Pos 22.2-3 Trans. Evelyn-White (http:// www.theoi.com/Olympios/Poseidon.html)). The obverse of the bronze dichalkon (2.98g) from the beginning of the 4th century BC shows a bearded and diademed head surrounded by sea waves, while the reverse is decorated with a trident flanked by dolphins and an olive tree.56

Diademed and Bearded Head of Poseidon One of the most recurrent iconographic prototypes of Poseidon in post-classical and Hellenistic Greek coinage is that of the sea god with diademed and bearded face on the obverse. This iconography had its origin in reliefs of the 5th century, although its best depiction was to be found in sculpture in the round of the 4th and 3rd century BC, when it achieved the pathetic and majestic features that ultimately came to characterise his face: abundant and wet, wavy hair, mouth half open, brow furrowed and sunken eyes; it is the image of a great god, similar to Zeus in his majesty, interpreted by Hellenistic sculptors in a baroque way. This iconic prototype has remained in the minds of all subsequent

Sicily. Messina. This prototype appears early in the coins, around the 4th century BC, as the fine mintage of Messina shows, with the classical head of the god, bearded, to the left on the obverse and a very embellished trident flanked by dolphins on the reverse (Figure 12). The permanence of this prototype reached the following century, as can be seen in the coins of Hiero II (c. 306-215 BC).57 Syracuse. The dies of this city are from the 3rd century BC, under the king Hiero II. On the obverse appears the diademed head of Poseidon facing left and a trident between two

The love union of both brothers constitutes one of the best known adventures of the sea god, always longing for terrestrial kingdoms. According to the myth, when the goddess was wandering in search of her daughter Persephone, she met with Poseidon, who tried to possess her. To escape from his embrace, Demeter transformed into a mare, but Poseidon, acquiring the shape of a colt, achieved his goal. From this union a daughter and Arion, the steed, were born. In some places, especially in Arcadia, the god was revered in the equine shape, perhaps as a memory of this mythical episode (Apollodorus 3,6,8 and Pausanias 8,25,4). 54 

The city was rediscovered in 2001 and now more excavations are being carried out under the direction of Dora Katsonopoulou and Steven Soter, who since 2005 have been researching the site. See,http://www.helikeproject.gr/discoveries.htm 56  http://www.wildwinds.com/coins/greece/peloponnesos/achaia/ helike/Traite_831.jpg 57  Jenkins 1966. 55 

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María Isabel Rodríguez López – Iconography of Poseidon in Greek Coinage

Figure 12. SICILY, Messana.. Æ Dilitron (15.22 gm). Circa 338-331 BC Legend: M-E-S-S-AN-IW-N. Own sketch based on http://www.wildwinds.com/coins/sg/sg1135.t.html dolphins, as a marine emblem, on the reverse. Below the trident the inscription reads: IEPΩ (IERO) NOΣ (NOS) ΣΩ (SO).58

Pan series relates this issue to the Antigonid naval aspirations in Karia under Antigonos Doson’.60

Boeotia. In the 3rd and 2nd century BC, the silver drachmas of the Boeotian League show the crowned head of the sea god facing right, according to the prototype described, while the idea of victory is reinforced by the personification of Niké on the reverse with the inscription ΒΟΙΩΝΤΩΝ.59

Other types Cyzicus. The most important Greek coins minted in electrum (an alloy of gold and silver) were issued in Cyzicus,61 a strategic site for the Athenian trade in Mysia (Asia Minor). The iconography of most of its staters alludes to Athens and Athenian myths. They are characterised by the elegance of the types and the detailed depiction of their dies. An example of their quality is a model with the effigy of Poseidon crouching (naked, with a mantle on his left shoulder), holding in his hand a dolphin and a trident. The fish on which the figure is standing, probably a tuna, is one of the most emblematic icons of this area, since it appears on many coins as an element on which other characters stand, almost on the exergue.62

Macedonia. As we have verified, Poseidon would become one of the most representative emblems of Macedonian kings, great navigators assimilated to the god. During the reign of Antigonus Gonatas (277-239 BC) and Antigonus Doson (229220), the coins were minted with special attention to detail. A peculiar iconographic prototype became very popular: the bearded and diademed head of the god on the obverse and Apollo seated on the bow of a ship on the reverse, with the inscription ΒΑΣΙΛΕΩΣ ΑΝΤΙΓΟΝΟΥ. As we have pointed out, the head of the god, facing left, is characteristic of the Hellenistic period, of baroque style and pathetic expression, with wavy hair that seems to emulate the marine currents. As for its meaning as an emblem, it has been considered that ‘the Poseidon head tetradrachms, on the other hand, pick up a peculiarly Antigonid political line: they were presumably meant to revive naval pretensions vis-a-vis the `Koinon of the Islanders’ and the Aegean that had been raised by the founders of the Antigonid dynasty, Antigonos Monophthalmos and Demetrius Poliorcetes. It may, in fact, be argued that the Ptolemaic aspirations for naval superiority, including the control and security of the Ptolemaic possessions in Thrace, rendered this reaction a necessity. Finally, the divergent iconography of the Zeus head silver drachmas from the main

Bibliography AA.VV. 1973. La Monetazione di Bronzo di Poseidonia Paestum. Atti del III Convegno del CISN, Napoli - 19-23 Aprile 1971. Napoli: Arte Tipografica. Alexander, J. A. 1953. The coinage of Potidaea.  Studies Presented to David Moore Robinson. Saint Louis, MO. Washington University 2: 201-17. Bayet, J. 1974. Idéologie et Plastique I. L’expression des énergies divines dans le monnayage des Grecs. Publications de l’École française de Rome, 21(1): 499-544. Brauer, G. C.1986. Taras: its history and coinage. New Rochelle. New York: A. D. Caratzas Pub. Panagopoulos 2000: 25; 293-294. http://www.asiaminorcoins.com/gallery/thumbnails. php?album=487 62  http://www.asiaminorcoins.com/gallery/displayimage. php?album=487&pid=10273#top_display_media 60  61 

http://www.wildwinds.com/coins/greece/sicily/syracuse/ hieron_II/Calciati_194.jpg 59  http://www.wildwinds.com/coins/greece/boeotia/BMC_099.jpg 58 

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Brousseau, L. 2004. Le monnayage d’argent Poseidonia: une étude de coins sur les statères et les drachmes  (Doctoral dissertation, Université de Montréal, Faculté des études supérieures). Montréal Bury, J. B. 2015 (digital ed.). A History of Greece to the death of Alexander the Great, Cambridge: University Press (1ª ed.1900). https://archive.org/details/ AHistoryOfGreeceToTheDeathOfAlexanderTheGreat Cantilena,R., Carbone, F. 2016. Poseidonia-Paestum e la sua moneta. Coll. Tekmeria - Università degli Studi di Salerno Casa: Pandemos Ed. Catalli F. 1995.    Monete dell’Italia Antica. Roma: Istituto Poligrafico e Zecca dello Stato. Chadwick, J. 1978. El mundo micénico. Madrid: Alianza Universidad. Ebner, P. 1964.   La monetazione di Poseidonia-Paestum. Studi Lucani I-III, 1961-63, Salerno. Gartziou-Tatti, A. 1990. L’oracle de Dodone. Mythe et rituel.  Kernos. Revue internationale et pluridisciplinaire de religion grecque antique Kernos [en ligne]http://kernos. revues.org/985 ; DOI : 10.4000/kernos.98 Gorini, G. 1975. La monetazione incusa della Magna Grecia, Milano:Arte e Moneta. Gorini, G. 2001. La moneta greca: forme e modi di un segno dell uomo. In Alle radici dell´euro. Quando la moneta fa la storia (Catalogo della Mostra, Padova, diciembre 2001-aprile 2002). Treviso:11-38. Grunauer, S . 1973. Die Bronzeprägung von Poseidoni. In La monetazione di bronzo di Poseidonia-Paestum. Atti del III Convegno del Centro di Studi Numismatici (Napoli 1969): pp 25-45. Roma: Istituto italiano di numismatica. Holton, J. R. 2014. Demetrios Poliorketes, Son of Poseidon and Aphrodite. Cosmic and Memorial Significance in the Athenian Ithyphallic Hymn. Mnemosyne 21, Volume 67, 3:370 -390. Jenkins, G. K. 1966. Coins of Greek Sicily. London: Trustees of the British Museum. Kokkinou, A. 2011. Poseidon in Attica: Cults and iconography (ca. 510–300 BCE). Ph.D. Diss., The Johns Hopkins University. Kraay, C.M. 1967. Gli Stateri a doppio rilievo di Poseidonia. In Atti e Memorie della Societa Magna Graecia: 113-135. Roma: Arbor Sapientiae. Köhnken, A. 1974. Pindar as Innovator: Poseidon Hippios and the Relevance of the Pelops Story in Olympian.  The Classical Quarterly,  24 (2):199-206. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lehman, P.W. 1946.Statues on Coins of Southern Italy and Sicily in the Classical Period. New York: H. Bittner and Co. Lorber, C.C., Schwabacher, W. 1990. Amphipolis: the civic coinage in silver and gold. Los Ángeles: Numismatic Fine Arts International. Maitland, J. (1999). Poseidon, walls, and narrative complexity in the Homeric Iliad.  The Classical Quarterly,  49 (1), 1-13. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mylonas, G. E. 1944. The bronze statue from Artemision. American Journal of Archaeology, 48 (2): 143-160. Mylonopoulos, J. 1998. Poseidon, der Erderschütterer. Religiöse Interpretationen von Erd- und Seebeben. In E Olshausen - H. Sonnabend (eds), Naturkatastrophen in der antiken Welt, Stuttgarter Kolloquium zur historischen Geographie. Sttutgart: Franz Steiner Verlag GMBH. Newell, E.T. 1918. The Seleucid Mint of Antioch. (New York) On line: http://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=gri. ark%3A%2F13960%2Ft01z62g3k

Panagopoulos, E. 2000. Antigonos Gonatas Coinage, Money and Economy . Ph. D. Diss, London, University College. Pötscher, W. 1966. Zeus Naios und Dione in Dodona. Mnemosyne, 19 (2): 113-147. Rachet, G. 1962. Le sanctuaire de Dodone, origine et moyens de divination. Bulletin de l’Association Guillaume Budé, 1(1): 86-99. Robertson, N.1984. Poseidon’s Festival at the Winter Solstice.  The Classical Quarterly,  34(1): 1-16. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Rutter, NK. 1997. Greek Coinages of Southern Italy and Sicily. Londres: Spink. Rutherford, I. 2013. Mycenaean religion. In  Salzman, M.  (ed.) The Cambridge History of Religions in the Ancient World: Volume 1: 256-279.Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Robinson, E.S.G. 1991. A Catalogue of the Calouste Gulbenkian Collection of Greek Coins. Lisboa: Calouste Gulbenkian Museum. Rodríguez, M. I. 2002. Poseidón y el thiasos marino en el arte mediterráneo: (desde sus orígenes hasta el siglo XVI). Universidad Complutense de Madrid. On line http:// eprints.ucm.es/2380/ Rodríguez, M. I. 2008. Arqueología y creencias del mar en la antigua Grecia. Zephyrus LXI, enero-junio 2008: 177-195. Publicaciones de la Universidad de Salamanca. Seemann, O. 1881.Coins from Elis (Florence and Paris). Grekernas och romarnes mytologi. http://www.maicar. com/GML/000Iconography/Nike/slides/see016.html Peck, H. T. 1898. Harpers Dictionary of Classical Antiquities.  New York: Harper & Brothers. On line http://www.perseus. tufts.edu/Olympics/faq11.html. Sallusto, F. 1971.  Le monete di bronzo di Poseidonia-Paestum nella collezione Sallusto. Centro Internazionale di Studici Numismátici: Napoli. Shapiro , H. A. 1989. Poseidon and the tuna. L’Antiquité Classique 58 : 32-43 http://www.jstor.org/ stable/41658304?seq=1#page_scan_tab_contents Siciliano, A. 2017 Between history and archeology coins narrate ancient Puglia.  Tarentum. On line http://www.bridgepugliausa.it/ articolo.asp?id_sez=0&id_cat=49&id_art=3668&lingua=en Taliercio-Mensitieri, M. 1988. Aspetti e problemi della monetazione di Poseidonia.  Poseidonia-Paestum. ACSMGr, 1987, p. 133-183. . Taranto :  Istituto per la Storia e l’Archeologia della Magna Grecia. Zadoks-Jitta, A. 1937. The Poseidon Isthmios by Lysippos. The Journal of Hellenic Studies, 57(2): 224-226. Walbank, M. E. H. 2010. Image and cult: the coinage of Roman Corinth. In Corinth in Context (pp. 145-192). Brill. Wallace, W. P. 1956. The Euboian League and its coinage. Numismatic Notes and Monographs (134). English translations of Classic Texts Iliad [Homer] by I. Johnston Revised Edition 2010 http://records.viu.ca/~johnstoi/homer/iliad20.htm Vancouver Island University Nanaimo, BC Canada The Odyssey [Homer] by R. Flages, 1996. Intr. Berhard Knox. Penguin Classics Herodotus, by A. D. Godley. Cambridge. Harvard University Press. 1920. http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/ text?doc=Perseus%3Atext%3A1999.01.0126%3Abook%3 D8%3Achapter%3D129%3Asection%3D3

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Web Links citations

http://www.coinarchives. com/77cf7fe446451fa8504b69368d7ad24f/img/ cng/e/398/image00056.jpg http://www.coinarchives. com/3d6db55865335fa88697d99f3e2563db/img/cng/105/ image00092.jpg http://vilmarnumismatics.com/product/ demetrius-poliorcetes-silver-tetradrachmsthebes-mint-issue-with-powerful-realisticportrait-choice-xf-fine-style-ngc-graded-greekmacedonian-coin-inv-10577/ http://www.wildwinds.com/coins/greece/macedonia/ potidaea/SNGANS_693ff.jpg https://www.cngcoins.com/Coin.aspx?CoinID=163559 http://www.wildwinds.com/coins/greece/boeotia/ BMC_063.jpg http://www.wildwinds.com/coins/greece/macedonia/ kings/demetrios_poliorcetes/Newell_100.jpg http://www.helikeproject.gr/discoveries.htm http://www.wildwinds.com/coins/greece/peloponnesos/ achaia/helike/Traite_831.jp http://www.wildwinds.com/coins/greece/sicily/syracuse/ hieron_II/Calciati_194.jpg http://www.wildwinds.com/coins/greece/boeotia/ BMC_099.jpg http://www.asiaminorcoins.com/gallery/thumbnails. php?album=487 http://www.asiaminorcoins.com/gallery/displayimage. php?album=487&pid=10273#top_display_media

http://www.theoi.com/Cult/ZeusDodonaiosCult.html http://www.namuseum.gr/collections/bronze/classiki/ classic03-en.html https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Zeus_lightning_ Glyptothek_Munich_4339.jpg; http://www.harvardartmuseums.org/collections/ object/311350 http://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/251078 http://www.coinarchives.com/a/results. php?results=100&search=Poseidonia; http:// coinproject.com/search_city_result. php?city=Poseidonia®ion=LUCANIA&type=1 https://www.deamoneta.com/auctions/view/103/1021 http://www.wildwinds.com/coins/greece/thrace/ byzantium/Moushmov_3210.jpg http://www.ancient.eu/uploads/images/5418. jpg?v=1485682311 http://snible.org/coins/hn/crete.html#rhaucus https://www.numisbids.com/n.php?p=lot&sid=1480&lot=84 https://www.tumblr.com/search/archaeological%20 museum%20of%20eleusis http://ancientrome.ru/art/artworken/img.htm?id=2014 http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/ text?doc=Perseus:text:1999.01.0160:book=1:chapter=2 http://www.coinarchives. com/75454e749c81c5e4ecd5651cc52ef6a9/img/ nomos/014/image00100.jpg

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The Silver Akragatine Tetradrachms with Quadriga: A New Catalogue1 Viviana Lo Monaco2 In11948,2Charles Seltman published ‘The Engravers of the Akragantine Decadrachms’.3 The subject of that paper was the emission of silver Tetradrachms and Decadrachms from Akragas at the end of the 5th century B.C. bearing the quadriga on the obverse (obv.) and two eagles on the reverse (rev.). The purpose of my study was to complement Seltman’s work with new data and to write a catalogue of silver Tetradrachms with the quadriga on the obv. To this end, I gathered and analyzed 89 specimens from Sylloge, collections and on-line auctions. My method of analysis was not different from Seltman’s: I observed pictures of each coin (when available) and then divided the coins by their iconographic features. Finally, I compared the silver series with other contemporary silver and golden series produced in Akragas, and observed their presence in hoards. This method had limitations, mainly due to the quality of some of the pictures, which meant that I was not able to carry out an accurate analysis of the dies.

Caltabiano7 proposes that the representation of heroes, local nymphs and marine monsters linked to the Messina Strait was probably the effect of a propagandistic strategy to express a strong political ideology. According to the old numismatic school, Exainetos’ victory in the 90th Olympic Games8 would represent the occasion for striking Decadrachms and Tetradrachms.9 Connecting highquality pieces, such as Decadrachms or gold litrae, with the celebration of great events was very common among most scholars for a long time.10 In his work,11 Seltman identified ‘twelve different kinds of Tetradrachms and four combinations of Decadrachms dies, that is sixteen combinations altogether. There are nine obverses chariot-dies and fourteen reverses eagles-dies’.12 On the basis of an iconographic analyses of 42 coins, Seltman organized the silver coin series chronologically and profiled the four engravers of the dies. He concluded that the earlier – and anonymous – engraver, the Trier, produced the first die with two eagles standing on a dead hare, between 420 and 415 B.C. Myron (the chariot dies engraver) and Poly(krates) worked in 413 B.C.; whereas Kimon was the maker of the last dies between 409 and 406 B.C. Later, numismatists established a more recent date for Akragantine Decadrachms and Tetradrachms with quadriga,13 which coincides with the period just before the destruction of the city by Carthaginians (406-405 B.C.).

The eagle and the crab were the characteristic types of the Akragas mint from the beginning of its coinage. The eagle was probably linked to the cult of Zeus Atabyrios,4 which perhaps was imported by the Rhodian component of Gela’s subcolony ktisis.5 Even the crab sema could be linked to Rhodian cultural tradition.6 At the end of the 5th cent. B.C., the single eagle on the Tetradrachms and Decadrachms from Akragas was replaced with a pair of eagles (quoting Agamemnon by Aeschilus, verses 114-121) and the crab, instead, became an adjunct symbol located on the exergue or eventually dismissed. In this period the Sicilian poleis represented the quadriga on the obverse of their silver Tetradrachms and Decadrachms series. Besides the quadriga type, these poleis shared the adjunctive symbols repertoire. Caccamo

The Catalogue In our study, 89 Tetradrachms, 6 Didrachms and 7 Decadrachms were collected. The larger number of Tetradrachms allows for better observation of their various typologies. According to Seltman’s classification of Tetradrachms, one can distinguish seven typologies of obverse and eleven of reverse.14 The description of each obverse and reverse of the Tetradrachms and their combinations, based on Seltman’s classification system,15 now follows.

Here I will develop upon data analyses conducted as part of my post-graduate dissertation in Archaeology (2008/2009) at the University of Catania (Italy). 2  PhD at the Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology - University of São Paulo (MAE-USP) 3  Seltman 1948: 1-10. 4  Plb. IX, 27, 7. 5  The Thucydidean tradition (V, 4) concerning the names of the two oicists of Akragas, Aristonoo and Pistilus, suggests that there were two ethnic components in the foundation of the city, one of which De Miro (1992: 152) identifies as Geloan, interested in expanding its control of Sicily’s west coast, and the other as being Rhodian and more interested in searching for new trading points with the Greek West and Africa. 6  De Miro 1992: 156; Manganaro 1992: 213. You can also find the crab on coins from Himera stricken in the years 483-472 B.C. The Akragantine dominion of Himera began in 483 B.C. after the conquest of the city by Theron, and ended eleven years later with the expulsion of the tyrant Thrasydaeus and the establishment of the democratic government. It is assumed that in this period Akragas mint interrupted its activity and that the monetary production was transferred to Himera (Kraay 1976: 209). Westermark (1999: 425-428) suggests that the end of this strike was linked to the downfall of the Thrasydaeus tyranny in 470 B.C. 1 

Caccamo Caltabiano 2003: 109. Diod. XIII, 82, 7. Babelon 1921: 92; Jenkins 1966: 26; Kraay 1976: 226. 10  Head 1911: 121; Jongkees 1941: 68 f. In that period, only Holm suggested the date of 405 B.C. (1896: 106). 11  Seltman 1948. 12  Idem: 1. 13  Alföldi 1976: 130 ff.; Mildenberg 1989: 181 ff.; Stazio 1992: 226; Westermark 2007; Rutter 2009. 14  Actually, there are some reverses that are not easily legible and, for this reason, I preferred to classify these specimens separately. 15  Seltman 1948: 2-4. The classification used in my dissertation was different in both nomenclature and order to Seltman´s. For example, I previously considered the obverses C, D, E and the reverses α, β, ε as the same typology, but stricken respectively by 3 different dies, leading me to identify 5 kinds of obv. and 9 of rev. Nevertheless, for this publication, I thought it more practical to keep the well-known classical classification. 7  8  9 

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Viviana Lo Monaco – The Silver Akragatine Tetradrachms with Quadriga

Combinations 1.

Obv. A

Quadriga running to the r., driven by a charioteer, crowned by Nike; in exergue (ex.), the sea serpent r. Rev. α (Pistrix). Border of dots.

Two eagles to the r. on hare on rock; in field l., a cicada; in field, legend AKPAΓANTINON retrograde.

Copenhagen 53; De Hirsch 287; Gulbenkian 167; Jameson 510; Mc Clean 2042; Salinas 190; 009 CA; 010 CA. Pl. 1, 1. 2.

Obv. B

As last; in ex., aposkopein Scylla to the r.; under horses’ paws, the signature of the engraver MYP. Border of dots.

Rev. α

As last.

As last.

Rev. β

As last; legend AKPAΓANTINON progressive.

Rev. γ

As last; in field, legend AKP-AΓANTINON progressive; no adjunctive symbol.

Rev. δ

Two eagles to the l. on hare on rock; in field, legend AKPAΓANTIN [ ] N progressive; on lowest wing-feather of nearest eagle the engraver’s signature ΠOΛYKP.

Rev. ε

Two eagles to the r. on hare on rock; in field l., a cicada; in field, legend AKPAΓANTINON retrograde.

As last (first horse looks back); in ex., crab downwards. Border of dots.

Rev. ζ

As last; in field, legend AKPAΓANTI NΩ-N retrograde; no adjunctive symbol.

As last.

Ill.

Quadriga running to the l., driven by Nike; above, vine-twig with grapes; in ex., AKPAΓANTI|NON. Border of dots.

Rev. κ

Sole, Balate 21 3.

Obv. B

BMC 54; Dewing 560; Lloyd 820; Weber 1196; Weil 13; 021 CA. Pl. 1, 2. 4.

Obv. B

As last.

BMC 53; Rizzo II, 6 (Winterthur). Pl. 1, 3. 5.

Obv. C

As last (third horse looks back); in ex., a crab upwards. Border of dots.

Basel 260; Lloyd 819; 014 CA. Pl. 1, 4. 6.

Obv. D

As last (third horse looks back); in ex., crab downwards. Border of dots.

Rizzo II, 3 (Palermo); Warren 200. Pl. 1, 5. 7.

Obv. E

BMC 57; Budapest 28; De Hirsch 288; De Luynes 859; Dewing 561; Franke-Hirmer 178; Jameson 1889; Lloyd 818; Napoli 3949; Pozzi 920; Ward 139; 002 CA; 003 CA; 005 CA; 006 CA; 008 CA; 012 CA; 015 CA; 016 CA; 022 CA. Pl. 1, 6. 8.

Obv. E

Copenhagen 54. 9.

Obv. H

Two eagles to the l. on hare on rock; in field r., grasshopper. No inscriptions.

Dewing 563; Gulbenkian 169; Napoli 3950; Salinas 194 (Dupré); Rizzo II, 10 (IGCH 2098). Pl. 2, 1. 10.

Obv. H

As last.

Rev. λ

As last; in field r., head of young male horned god; above, ΣTPATΩN.

Ashmolean 1677; Basel 261; BMC 58; De Hirsch 290; Dewing 564; IGCH 2120; Imhoof-Blumer 6; Jameson 511; Napoli 3951; Rizzo III, 1; Salinas 195 (Pennisi); Warren 199; 001 MGC; 013 CA; 019 CA; 020 CA. Pl. 2, 2. 11.

Obv. H

As last.

Rev. μ

Two eagles to the r. on hare on rock; in field l., lion’s head to the l. No inscriptions.

As last; above, pinakion inscribed AKPAΓ-ANTINON on two boustrophedon lines and the syllable ON comes out of the tablet; in ex., long thin club. Border of dots.

Rev. μ

As last.

Rev. ν

As last; in field l., bull’s head to the l. No inscriptions.

Jameson 2415. 12.

Obv. J

BMC 56; De Luynes 858; Hunterian 25: 157; 001 CA. Pl. 2, 3. 13.

Obv. J

As last.

Du Chatel 25; De Hirsch 289; Rizzo, III, 5 (Winterthur); Salinas 192; 023 CA. Pl. 2, 4. 14.

Obv. J

As last.

Rev. o

As last.

Ill.

As last; in field l., ΣIΛANOΣ.

ANS 1000; Ashmolean 1676; Augusta 2101; BMC 55; Dewing 565; Gulbenkian 170; Fitzwilliam 17; München 90; Rizzo III, 3 (Winterthur); Spencer-Churchill 30; 004 CA; 018 CA; 003 MGC. Pl. 2, 5. 15.

Obv. J

Mc Clean 2041; Bement 45.

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Figure 1. This dendrogram (made by Riccardo Rella) shows the elements that determine the division of Tetradrachms into two groups. The main factor is the type of all obverses: the quadriga (QUADRIGA). The movement of the quadriga determines the division of Tetradrachms in two great groups: running to the right and driven by a male charioteer crowned by Nike (RIGHT-CHARIOTEER M.), or running to the left and driven by a female charioteer, apparently Nike herself (LEFT- CHARIOTEER F.). The further great division inside these two groups is determined by the presence, or not, of marine world’s elements. The group having marine features (M.W.E) bear the ethnic AKPAΓANTINON/AKPAΓANTINΩN (ETHNIC) on reverses, that can be progressive (P.) or regressive (R.). The final division of this group is determined by the shared elements on the reverses of Tetradrachms – such as the cicada (CIC.) or the absence of symbols (NO S.) – and also by breaking elements (for instance, combination B-α shares with D-ε the retrograde ethnic and the cicada on rev., while on obv. there are different elements: Scylla on the first and the crab on the second). The group without marine world’s elements (NO M.W.E.) is divided on the basis of the presence or not of INSCRIPTIONS on the rev. Also in this case further divisions were made in accordance with the principal iconographic similarities among the dies. Even if J-Ill. share the same features with the near combinations, we cannot know if its rev., that is illegible, bore inscriptions.

The combination B-α does not exist in Seltman; it is a Tetradrachm (inv. MR 1086) found in the archaeological area of Balate Mountain (Marianopoli, Sicily).16 As I mentioned previously, Didrachms and Decadrachms are much less numerous than Tetradrachms. Below, there are descriptions of the specimens I collected:

Rev.: Two eagles to the r. on hare on rock; in field r., grasshopper outwards.

Didrachms (Pl. 3, 1):

Data Analysis and Conclusions

Obv.: Eagle to the l., grasping a snake; above, ΣTPA; in field r., AKPA.

Considering all iconographic elements of the Tetradrachms, the issue can be divided into two groups (Figure 1). In the first group (combinations 1-8), the obverses bear elements from the marine world (Pistrix in obv. A, Scylla in obv. B and the crab in obv. C, D, E) and the ethnic AKRAΓANTINON / AKRAΓANTINΩN takes place on the reverses. The obverses C, D, E are very similar and change only in little details (such as the positioning of the crab and the heads of horses). The reverses α, β, ε share the cicada in field left.

Specimens: Gulbenkian 168; Lloyd 817; München 89; Rizzo II, 8 (Pennisi) and 9 (Paris); Salinas 187 (Pennisi); Siracusa coll. Gagliardi.

Rev.: Crab upwards; between its claws, a vine leaf; below, a fish. Specimens: ANS 1001; Basel 262; Gulbenkian 165; Rizzo III, 2 (Pennisi); Sole, Balate 26; Weber 1197. Decadrachms (Pl. 3, 2):

The second group is made up of the obv. H (combinations 9-11) and obv. J (combinations 12-15). Observing these Tetradrachms, we can note that they share adjunctive symbols and inscriptions with other contemporary series of the city:

Obv.: Quadriga running to the l., no ground-line, driven by a charioteer naked but for thin scurf (clamis); above, eagle carrying snake, flying l., and AKPAΓAΣ; underneath, crab downwards. Border of dots. 16 

1) The name Straton appears on rev. λ and on the obv. of Didrachms;

Sole 2012: 68.

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Plate 1. First group of Tetradrachms, combinations 1-8.

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Plate 2. Second group of Tetradrachms, combinations 9-15.

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Plate 3. Silver issues of Didrachms and Decadrachms (combination G-θ Seltman) and gold litra. 2) The vine leaf motif on obv. H is also on rev. of Didrachms;

established by Seltman on the basis of the artists’ style and iconographic characteristics of the coins. There is another good marker to support this chronology: the hoards. Monetary findings have yielded a small number of Akragantine silver series with quadriga. Monforte San Giorgio hoard (IGCH 2098) contained two Tetradrachms, one E-ζ and one H-κ, and 3 Didrachms. Augusta hoard (IGCH 2101) contained a J-o Tetradrachm type. In the Ognina hoard (IGCH 2120) there was one H-λ Tetradrachm and 19 Didrachms. Tetradrachms with quadriga (sic) were found in the Schisò hoard (IGCH 2096), while in the Naro hoard (IGCH 2118) there were more than 60 Tetradrachms from Syracuse, 2 Decadrachms from Akragas and 26 from Syracuse. Finally, one Didrachm was found in the Balate hoard (1986). All these hoards were lost between 403 and 395 B.C. One can easily note that the Tetradrachms found in the hoards bear the obverses H and J (except the E-ζ Tetradrachm type in Monforte San Giorgio hoard that is the most common combination of the first group). Furthermore, the Tetradrachms of the second group are often associated with Decadrachms and Didrachms in the hoards; this suggests that they were probably circulating together just before the defeat of the polis.

3) The grasshopper is on rev. κ and on the rev. of Decadrachms; 4) The name Silanos on rev. o also appears on the small gold litra (Pl. 3, 3). I propose that the coins of the second group were probably the last Tetradrachms of the series and that their strong similarities can be considered indicative of their contemporaneity. A good marker to determine their approximate date is the gold issue. At the end of 5th cent. B.C., Syracuse, Gela, Camarina and Akragas struck the golden series of litrae, in order to support military costs of the war against the Carthaginians17 after they invaded in 409 B.C. Among these poleis, Akragas was probably the first to issue the golden series.18 The starting date of 409 B.C. for Decadrachms, Didrachms and some Tetradrachms is more recent than that 17  18 

Manganaro 1989; Lo Monaco 2015. Cfr. Jenkins 1972, nn. 338-341.

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Key to Catalogue

SALINAS = Salinas A., Le monete delle antiche città di Sicilia, Palermo 1867. SIRACUSA (Collezione Gagliardi) = Coin from the Gagliardi collection, now exhibited in the Archaeological Museum Paolo Orsi in Syracuse, Sicily. SOLE (Balate) = Sole, L. Gli indigeni e la moneta. Rinvenimenti monetali e associazioni contestuali dai centri dell’entroterra siciliano. Caltanissetta: Salvatore Sciascia Editore. 2012. SPENCER-CHURCHILL COLL. = SNG, The Collection of Capt. E.G. Spencer-Churchill, M. C., of Northwick Park. The Salting Collection in the Victoria and Albert Museum, vol. I, part I, London 1931. WARD = Ward J., Greek Coins and their Parents Cities, London 1902. WARREN = Regling K., Die Griechischen Münzen der Sammlung Warren, Berlino 1906. WEBER = Forrer L., The Weber Collection, vol. I, London 1922. WEIL = Weil R., Die Künstlerinschriften der sicilischen Münzen. Berlin 1884.

Catalogues and Sylloge ANS = SNG, The Collection of American Numismatic Society, 3, Bruttium-Sicily I: Abacaenum-Eryx, New York 1975. ASHMOLEAN = SNG, Ashmolean Museum Oxford, V, II, ItalySicily-Carthage, London 1969. AUGUSTA = Augusta Hoard (IGCH 2101) BASEL = Cahn, H. A.; Mildenberg, L.; Russo, R.; Voegtly, H.; Antikenmuseum Basel und Sammlung Ludwig. Griechische Münzen aus Grossgriechenland und Sizilien, Basel 1988. BEMENT = A Descriptive Catalogue of Greek Coins Selected from the Cabinet of Clarence S. Bement, Esq. Philadelphia. New York: American Numismatic Society. 1921. BMC = Pool, R. S. (ed.). Catalogue of the Coins Greek in the British Museum. Sicily, London 1876. BUDAPEST = SNG, Budapest. Magyar Nemzeti Múzeum, vol. I, Hispania-Sicilia, Part 3 Sicilia. Milano 1993. COPENHAGEN = SNG, I, The Royal Collection of Coins and Medals, Danish National Museum, part 1, Italy – Sicily. Copenhagen 1941. DE HIRSCH = Naster P., Catalogue des Monnaie Grecques. La Collection Lucien De Hirsch. Bruxelles 1959. DE LUYNES = Babelon J., Bibliothèque Nationale Département des Médailles & Antiques, Catalogue de La Collection De Luynes, Monnaies Grecques, I, Italie et Sicilie. Paris 1924. DEWING = Mildenberg L.; Hurter S. The Arthur S. Dewing Collection of Greek Coins. New York 1985 DU CHATEL = De Callataÿ F. a n d J. Van Heesch, Greek and Roman Coins from the Du Chastel Collection, Coin Cabinet of the Royal Library of Belgium, London 1999. FITZWILLIAM = SNG, Fitzwilliam Museum: Leake and General Collection, IV, II, Sicily- Thrace, London 1972. FRANKE-HIRMER = Franke P. R.; Hirmer M. Die Griechische Münze. München 1972. GULBENKIAN = Robinson E. S. G.; Castro Hipolito M., A Catalogue of t h e Calouste Gulbenkian Collection of Greek Coins, Part I, Italy Sicily Carthage. Lisboa 1971. HUNTERIAN = Mc Donald, G. Catalogue of Greek Coins in the Hunterian Collection. University of Glasgow. Vol. I. Glasgow: James Maclehose and sons. 1899. IGCH = Thompson, M.; Mørkholm, O.; Kraay, C.M. An Inventory of Greek Coin Hoards, New York 1973. IMHOOF-BLUMER = Imhoof-Blumer, F. Monnaies Grecques. Italie et Sicilie. Amsterdam: Académie Royale Néerlandaise de Sciences. 1882. JAMESON = Jameson R., Monnaies Grecques Antiques et Imperiales Romaines, voll. IA and III-IV. Chicago: Obol International. 1980. LLOYD = SNG, The Lloyd Collection, vol. II, parts III-IV, London 1934. MC CLEAN = Catalogue of the McClean collection of Greek coins, by S. W. Grose. Fitzwilliam Museum., Grose, Sidney William, 1886Cambridge [Eng.]: University Press, 1923 MÜNCHEN = SNG, Deutschland, Staatliche Münzsammlung München, 5, Sikelia nr. 1-872, Berlin 1977. NAPOLI = Catalogo del Museo Nazionale di Napoli, Medagliere, I, Monete greche, Napoli 1870. POZZI = Boutin S., Catalogue des Monnaies Grecques Antiques de l’Ancienne Collection Pozzi, Monnaies frappées in Europe, Maastricht 1979. RIZZO = Rizzo G. E., Monete Greche della Sicilia, Roma 1946.

On-line Auctions - www.coinarchives.com: CA 001: Nomos Ag Auction date: 6 May 2009 Lot number: 18. CA 002: Stack’s The Golden Horn Collection Auction date: 12 January 200 Lot number: 2082. CA 003: Stack’s The Golden Horn Collection Auction date: 12 January 2009 Lot number: 2083. CA 004: Classical Numismatic Group Triton XII Auction date: 6 January 2009 Lot number: 65. CA 005: Classical Numismatic Group Mail Bid Sale 79 Auction date: 17 September 2008 Lot number: 57. CA 006: Hess-Divo AG Auction 309 Auction date: 28 April 2008 Lot number:13. CA 008: Stack’s Tallent & Belzberg Collections Auction date: 24 April 2008 Lot number: 2034. CA 009: Gerhard Hirsch Nachfolger Auction 255 Auction date: 14 February 2008 Lot number: 1345. CA 010: UBS Gold & Numismatics Auction 76 Auction date: 22 January 2008 Lot number: 1219. CA 012: Stack’s Stack & Kroisos Collections Auction date: 14 January 2008 Lot number: 2282. CA 013: Astarte S.A. Auction XIX Auction date: 6 May 2006 Lot number:751. CA 014: Gemini, LLC Auction II Auction date: 11 January 2006 Lot number: 22. CA 015: Fritz Rudolf Künker GmbH & Co. KG Auction 97 Auction date: 7 March 2005 Lot number: 182. CA 016: Fritz Rudolf Künker GmbH & Co. KG Auction 94 Auction date: 27 September 2004 Lot number: 256. CA 018: Classical Numismatic Group Triton V Auction date: 15 January 2002 Lot number: 1163. CA 019: Classical Numismatic Group Triton V Auction date: 15 January 2002 Lot number: 1161. CA 020: Dr. Busso Peus Nachfolger Auction 366 Auction date: 29 October 2000 Lot number: 28. CA 021: Stack’s: Vermeule, Ward, and Mexico Collections Auction date: 11 January 2010 Lot number: 22. CA 022: Gemini, LLC: Auction date: 10 January 2010. Lot number: 14. CA 023: Numismatica Ars Classica Auction 100. Auction date: 29 May 2017. Lot number: 74.

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- www.magnagraecia.nl/coins:

Jongkees, J.H. 1941. The Kimonian Dekadrachms: a contribution to Sicilian Numismatics. Utrecht: Kemink en Zoon N.V. Kraay, C. 1976. Archaic and Classical Greek Coins. London: Methuen. Lo Monaco, V. 2015. I nominali aurei minori di Siracusa della fine del V sec. a.C. In Società siracusana di Storia Patria. Archivio Storico Siracusano, serie IV, vol. IV, XLVII-2012: 265274. Siracusa. Manganaro, G. 1989. Darici in Sicilia e le emissioni auree delle poleis siceliote e di Cartagine nel V-III sec. a.C. In Revue des Études Anciennes, XCI, 1989, 1-2: 299-317. Manganaro, G. 1992. In Braccesi M. and E. De Miro (ed.) 1992: 207-218. Rutter, K. 2009. Dating the Period of the ‘Signing Artists’ of Sicilian Coinage. In D. Counts and A. Tuck (ed.)  KOINE: Mediterranean Studies in Honor of R. Ross Holloway: 125-130. Oxford; Oakville: Oxbow Books. Retrieved from http:// www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt1cfr8rx.25 Seltman, C. 1948. The Engravers of the Akragantine Decadrachms. In  The Numismatic Chronicle and Journal of the Royal Numismatic Society, 8 (1/2): 1-10. Retrieved from http://www.jstor.org/stable/42663116 Stazio, A. 1992. Moneta, economia e società. In Braccesi M. and De Miro E. (ed.) 1992: 219-230. Westermark, U. 1999. Himera: The Coins of Akragantine Types. 2. In M. Amandry and S. Hurter (ed.), D. Bérend (coll.) 1999. Travaux de Numismatique Grecque offers George Le Rider. A major Collection of Studies on Greek Coinages, Published in Honour of Georges Le Rider: pp. 409-434. London: Spink. Westermark, U. 2007. Some Ancient Forgeries of Dekadrachms of Akragas. In Quaderni Ticinesi, XXXVI: 77-86.

MGC 001: Triton V (2002) no. 1161. MGC 003: Numismatica Ars Classica AG, Auction 13 8th October 1998 no. 261, Ex Antikenmuseum Basel und Sammlung Ludwig no. 261. Bibliography Alföldi M. 1976. Dekadrachmon. Ein forschungsgeschichtliches Phänomen. Sitzungsberichte der Wissenschaftlichen Gesellschaft an der Johann-Wolfgang-Goethe-Universität Frankfurt am Main, Band 13, Nr. 4. Wiesbaden: Steiner. Babelon, E. 1921. Les monnaies grecques. Aperçu Historique. Paris. Braccesi M. and E. De Miro (ed.) 1992. Agrigento e la Sicilia greca. Atti della settimana di studio, Agrigento, 2-8 maggio 1988: 219230. Roma: L’Erma di Bretschneider. Caccamo Caltabiano, M. 2003. Il pansicilianesimo e l’annuncio di un’era nuova. In A. Corretti (ed.) Atti delle quarte giornate internazionali di studi sull’area elima. Erice 1-4 dicembre 2000 Vol. I.: 105-125. Pisa: s.n. De Miro, E. 1992. L’urbanistica e i monumenti pubblici. In Braccesi M. and De Miro E. (ed.) 1992: 151-156. Holm, A. 1906. Storia della moneta siciliana. Transl. by G. Kirner. Torino: C. Clausen. Head, B.V. 1911. Historia Numorum. A manual of Greek Numismatics. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Jenkins, G.K 1966. Coins of Greek Sicily. London: British Museum Publications. Jenkins, G.K. 1972. Ancient Greek Coins. London: Barrie & Jenkins.

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Why was Actaeon Punished? Reading and Seeing the Evolution of a Myth José Malheiro Magalhães1 six centuries, the tale of Actaeon and Diana/Artemis, was far from knowing one single canonical version, an appanage of Greek mythology, however, as we will see, there is one aspect that is transversal to every version of the myth of Actaeon: his punishment. In every version of the myth, Actaeon is devoured by his dogs, incited by a deity, usually Artemis although Zeus is also involved. This is not only perceptible in the surviving literary sources, but also in the artistic representations of Actaeon, overwhelmingly dominated by the punishment motif, however, despite the punishment being always shown, the crime is never actually depicted. The ancient authors, however, do give us some possible reasons for Actaeon’s punishment, as I explain in the following pages: his desire for Semele; the already mentioned bath episode where Actaeon sees Artemis naked; boosting to be a better hunter than the goddess; or wishing to marry her. My aim with this paper is to navigate through the different versions of the myth of Actaeon, both in literature and in art, analyse common patterns between the versions and try to ascertain if there is a common reason behind is punishment in all the different sources.

In1book III of the Metamorphoses, Ovid narrates the tale of Actaeon and Diana.2 According to this version, Diana was bathing in the Gargaphia valley, accompanied by her nymphs, when the hunter Actaeon, wandering through unknown woods, unintentionally entered the precinct where Diana was bathing. The nymphs immediately surrounded the goddess, trying to protect her divine body from the male gaze, however, Diana was taller than her companions and Actaeon saw her in her complete nakedness. Outraged by this, Diana punished the hunter transforming him into a stag, that was pursued and destroyed by his own dogs. Ovid’s version crystalized in time, being a source of inspiration for several Renaissance and modern art pieces, becoming the most famous tale of the demise of Actaeon until today. There are innumerable artistic depictions that are clearly influenced by Ovid’s tale. One example is the Actaeon chair (Figure 1), part of the collection of the House-Museum Medeiros e Almeida, in Lisbon.3 However, Ovid is retelling a myth that was known for at least six hundred years before his account. During those

Figure 1. armchair, c. 1715-30, Mortlake Tapestry Manufactory (1619-1704), England. Reproduced with the kind permission of House-Museum Medeiros e Almeida University of Roehampton; University of Lisbon - CH-ULisboa Ov. Met. 165-205. 3  This was the modern example shown at the conference. 1  2 

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Figure 2. Attic black-figured plate, 7th-6th century B.C.E., lost. Drawing by Filipe Soares based on the version provided in Schlam 1984: Plate 1. The oldest surviving literary source for Ovid’s version, is Callimachus’ Bath of Pallas,4 a text that conveys one version of the myth of Tiresias. One day, whilst hunting at noon, the young Tiresias, moved by thirst, went to a fountain in mount Helicon, known as the fountain of the Horse. However, the goddess Athena was bathing in those waters, accompanied by her cherished friend Chariclo, Tiresias’ mother. Although unwillingly, Tiresias saw the naked body of the goddess Athena, the forbidden body of the virgin goddess, and for that he was punished by Athena, who blinds Tiresias. Seeing her son’s suffering, Chariclo appeals to the goddess, begging her to undo the curse. Athena does not acquiesce to her companion’s request, arguing that a law of Zeus stated that anyone who beholds any of the immortals, against that god’s will, should pay a heavy price. The goddess further adds that Chariclo should rejoice at her luck, since Tiresias was only blinded although Actaeon, for a similar offense, was dismembered by his own dogs.5

The same version of the myth is later found in Pausanias.6 He states that he is conveying a story already told by Stesichorus of Himera, according to which Actaeon was punished by Artemis because of his intentions to take Semele as his wife. The reference to Stesichorus situates this version of the myth in the 6th century B.C.E., which is also the time of our oldest representations of Actaeon’s punishment.7 In an attic blackfigure lekythos (Figure 3), now in the National Archaeological Museum of Athens, dated between 525-475 B.C.E., Actaeon is depicted trying to defend himself against the attack of his dogs, while surrounded by two feminine figures.8 In this vase, he is completely naked, which is not always the case.9 Pausanias mentions that Artemis casted a deer skin around him,10 and that attribute is commonly found in visual Paus. 9.2.3-4. Schlam (1984: 87), mentions a lost attic cup (Fig.2), dated before the middle of the sixth century B.C.E., as the oldest representation of the punishment of Actaeon where the he is represented bearded, in a running pose, while being attacked by seven dogs. 8  Boardman (1974: 219) considered this vase (figure 258 in his book) when analysing representations of Artemis. In his own words ‘She [Artemis] caused the hunter Aktaion to be torn by his dogs for an offense variously specified in antiquity (boasting, lusting or viewing her naked) and he suffers this fate alone, on occasional vases from about 560 on.’. 9  Actaeon is often depicted naked, while trying to defend himself from the attack of the dogs. See for example, a crater from Vulci (400350 B.C.E.), now in the British Museum (1867,0508.1328; LIMC Aktaion 11), where the destruction of Actaeon is depicted on one side, and the suicide of Ajax on the other. 10  Paus. 9.2.3. 6  7 

The narrator starts by stressing that it was not his own invention (μῦθος δ᾽ οὐκ ἐμός, ἀλλ᾽ ἑτέρων), but rather a pre-existing tradition that he is conveying Lacy (1990: 28), dismisses this affirmation, stating that Callimachus probably is the inventor of the bath myth. As it will be explained later, I do believe that the bath version was not invented by Callimachus, and that it was already conveyed in sources dating, at least, from the six century. For more see Depew 1994 and Buxton 1980: 31n62 5  Callim. Hymn 5 108-116. 4 

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Figure 3. Attic black-figure lekythos, 525-475 B.C.E. National Archaeological Museum (A489 CC.82), Athens. (LIMC, Aktaion 2; Beazley ABV 500.51). © Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports/Archaeological Receipts Fund. Reproduced with the kind permission of the National Archaeological Museum, Athens. representations of Actaeon, like in a red-figured pelike from Vulci (Figure 4), now in the Louvre.

attributed to the Choephoroi Painter, now in the Harvard Art Museums (Figure 5).

Acusilaus of Argos conveys a similar version, stating that Actaeon was punished because of his sexual interest in Semele.11 Both these accounts are in line with the oldest literary reference of the myth that survived until today, a fragment of a papyrus dictionary of metamorphoses where it is stated that Actaeon was transformed into a stag by Artemis, and torn apart by his own dogs, because he dared to try to take Semele for his wife (᾽Ακταίων ὁ ᾽Αρισταῖ[ο]ν καί Αὐ[τονόης, τῶν Σεμέλης ἐφιέμενος γάμων αυτ).12 According to the fragment, this version was already told in the Catalogue of Women, traditionally attributed to Hesiod. Both the fragment and the reference by Acusilaus mention that Actaeon was transformed into a stag before being destroyed, a motif that is also depicted in art. In an early 4th century Lucanian red-figured nestoris, attributed to the Dolon painter,13 antlers sprouting from the hunter’s head are visible. The same motif is perceptible in a later lucanian nestoris

Nothing that might have been written in the years immediately following the Persian Wars survived,14 contrary to representations of his demise that flourished in the fifth century. In one vase by the Pan painter, Actaeon is defeated, down on his knees while being devoured by his dogs, with Artemis in front of him, preparing to shoot the hunter (Figure 6). A similar scene is portrayed in a terracotta Melian relief (Figure 7), showing Actaeon down on his right knee, trying to defend himself against the attack by the madden dogs, while Artemis stands in front of him, holding her bow.15 Actaeon was also depicted in the famous mid-fifth century underworld painting by Polygnotos, in Delphi, described by Pausanias, where he appears next to his mother.16 More We know that Actaeon was a central figure at least in four attic tragedies: three plays named Actaeon, by Phrynichos, Iophon and Kleophon; and Toxotides by Aeschylus. 15  There are more depictions of Actaeon in terracotta-reliefs, however they do not provide any details concerning the version of the myth that is represented. 16  Paus. 10.30.5 (translated by W. H. S. Jones): ‘Beyond these is Maera sitting on a rock. About her the poem Returns says that she was still a maid when she departed this life, being the daughter of Proetus, son of Thersander, who was a son of Sisyphus. Next to Maera is Actaeon, son of Aristaeus, together with the mother of Actaeon; they hold in their hands a young deer, and are sitting on a deer’s skin. A hunting 14 

Acusilaus is quoted in Apollod. Bibl. 3.4.4. The author of the Bibliotheca intended to convey all the versions of Actaeon’s demise, although stating that the bath myth was the most popular account at the time. 12  Renner 1978. 13  Lucanian Red-figure nestoris attributed to the Dolon Painter. 390BC-380 B.C.E. British Museum (1865,0103.17), London. LIMC Aktaion 48a. 11 

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Figure 4. Attic red-figured pelike, originally from Vulci. 500-450 B.C.E. Musee du Louvre (G224), Paris. (LIMC Aktaion 30). Drawing by Filipe Soares.

Figure 5. Nestoris (two-handled jar) with Mythological Scenes attributed to the Choephoroi Painter. Harvard Art Museums/Arthur M. Sackler Museum, Bequest of David M. Robinson, 1960.367. Imaging Department © President and Fellows of Harvard College. Reproduced with the kind permission of the Harvard Art Museums.

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Figure 6. Attic red-figured krater, attributed to the Pan Painter. 470 B.C.E. Museum of Fine Arts (10.185), Boston. (LIMC Aktaion 15). Photograph © Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. Reproduced with the kind permission of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. interestingly, in a vase attributed to the Lykaon painter (Figure 8), there seems to be a hint to Actaeon’s transgression, although the crime is not depicted. Standing in the middle, trying to fight of his own dogs as he begins to metamorphose into a stag, surrounded by the goddess Artemis, at his right, Lyssa (with a dog’s head over her own)17 and Zeus at his left. The composition, with the presence of Zeus, echoes the myth of Actaeon’s sexual intention towards Semele, being punished by Artemis at Zeus’ request.18

was punished because he boasted to be a better hunter than Artemis.19 This is a new version of the transgression, that reflects Actaeon’s intentionality, like the Semele version where he also shows intention, but contrary to Callimachus’ account where Actaeon is depicted as an unwilling victim. Heath argues that Euripides either borrowed this from some unknown tradition or indeed invented a new motive for Actaeon’s demise to establish a more striking parallel with Pentheus.20 In fact, in the Bacchae both Actaeon and Pentheus are punished by a direct and willing offense. Euripides makes several references to Actaeon during the play, emphasizing the similarity between the two cousins that, in some way, meddled with the gods and because of that met a similar fate.21 This cynegetic rivalry22 seems to be represented in a 4th

The only complete literary reference to Acteon from the 5th century is in the Bacchae (337-40). While trying to warn Pentheus about the danger of his behaviour, Cadmus mentions the fate of Acteon, his grandson and Pentheus’ cousin, who

Schlam 1984: 85 argues that this version of the myth was not original in Euripides, but that it might also be the reason for Acteon’s death in the Toxotides, the lost tragedy of Aeschylus. 20  Heath 1992: 10. 21  Eur. Ba. 230; 337-41; 1227; 1291; 1372. To Heath (1992: 11ff), Actaeon’s destruction in the beginning of the Bacchae and Pentheus demise in the end ‘form a frame within which the hunting image operates’. Schlam (1984: 87) also acknowledges the several references to Acteon made in the Bacchae, reinforcing the similarity of both characters that would suffer the same end. 22  I have borrowed the term from Guimond (1981: 462), who names

dog lies stretched out beside them, an allusion to Actaeon’s mode of life, and to the manner of his death.’ 17  As Boardman (1989: 63) noticed for this same vase (figure 152 in his book), ‘Personifications of the abstract are familiar in Greek art. Rage (Lyssa) urging on Artemis’ dogs to tear an Aktaion, already sprouting stag’s antlers on, is one of the oddest – a huntress with a dog’s head emerging from her own – rabid.’ 18  The name Euaion is scribed on the top of the vase. Euaion was the son of Aeschylus and a famous actor of the time, and so this vase might reflect one of the lost dramatic adaptations of the myth of Actaeon. See Schlam 1984: 91.

19 

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Figure 7. Melian relief. Louvre (4447), Paris. Schlam 1984: pl.III. Drawing by Filipe Soares century Apulian vase attributed to the Felton painter (Figure 9), where Actaeon, in an early phase of his metamorphosis, being depicted with animal ears, is flanked by Artemis riding a panther and Apollo with a swan.23

amphora from the 4th century B.C.E (Figure 10). Once again, Actaeon is fighting against his mad dogs, while Artemis and Lyssa observe. On the right side of Actaeon, Aphrodite and Eros witness the destruction of Actaeon. The inclusion of Eros, the only male subject represented besides Actaeon, may point to the intentionality of the sexual intentions towards Artemis, as stated by Diodorus.28 In the same line, Carl Schlam argues that, in a krater fragment attributed to the Pan painter (Figure 11), recovered in Athens, Actaeon makes a gesture of appeal to Artemis with his left arm, interpreting such gesture as a possible erotic element in Actaeon’s myth.29 If any of these two examples indeed relates to the myth where Actaeon shows sexual interest in Artemis, that could mean that Diodorus’ account would also be the adaptation of an older tradition, that did not survive.

We have seen four different versions of the myth of Actaeon, where he is punished either for desiring Semele, seeing Artemis naked, boosting to be a better hunter than Artemis, or desiring the virgin goddess. If we take a wider view, it is possible to divide those in two, where Actaeon’s crime is either directed to Semele or to Artemis.

A different account of the myth is conveyed by Diodorus Siculus, in the late first century B.C.E, according to which Acteon was punished because he purposed to consummate marriage with the goddess inside her temple.24 This account differs from Pausanias and Apollodorus, since Diodorus is not telling this version as a contrast to the bath myth. In fact, he does not even mention the visual transgression as a cause for Actaeon’s punishment, instead he provides the story of Actaeon bragging to be a better hunter than Artemis25 as an alternative reason for his demise. In Diodorus account, we are possibly facing a transposition of the transgression in the Actaeon-Semele myth, to Artemis,26 where the goddess, one of the permanent virgin deities, is the subject of Acteon’s sexual desire, a craving that ultimately resulted in his destruction.27 This myth seems to be alluded in an Apulian

If we consider the first, the Actaeon – Semele version, we should ask why he was punished. The surviving literary descriptions show that Actaeon’s crime was the desire to make Semele his wife, however, that alone does not explain the reason for such a severe punishment, unless wooing Semele was strictly forbidden. And if so, why should it be forbidden? Lacy argued that a sexual relationship between Actaeon and Semele would jeopardize the Dionysian cycle.30 accounts, marriage, seduction and rape are barely distinguishable, and metaphorically the acculturated form of marriage is consummated through the pursuit, capture and taming of a young girl […]’. 28  Schlam (1984: 94) seems to agree with this composition, however he argues that the vase provides no evidence as to whether Actaeon was pursuing Semele or Artemis. Akimova and Minina (2016: 97) provide a similar reading, stating that the presence of the seated Aphrodite ‘is unusual in this context, and highlights the erotic aspect of the deed for which Aktaion is punished’. 29  Schlam 1984: 88-89. Boardman (1975: 226) shows this fragmentary vase (figure 337.1 in his book) when providing examples of depictions of Artemis supervising the death of Actaeon, however he does not add anything on the importance of Actaeon’s gesture towards the goddess. 30  Lacy 1990: 28-29. The author disregards the influence that an incestuous relationship, since Actaeon is Semele’s nephew, could have in the hero’s final demise, however, this quick dismissal is criticized by some scholars. Depew (1994: 412n15) argues against

the group of vases that depict this motif as ‘Rivalité cynégétique’. 23  Guimond (1981: 462) lists one Greek krater (83a), from 450-440 B.C.E. as another example of the cynegetic rivalry motif. 24  Diod. 4.81.4 25  The same reason given in the Bacchae. 26  Schlam 1984: 87. 27  For Heath (1992: 3) states that, in Diodorus, Actaeon was punished for his ‘attempt to violate Artemis in her own temple’. The phrasing γάμον κατεργάσασθαι τῆς Ἀρτέμιδος does not clearly implicate any sort of violent attempt from Actaeon, however, in Greek mythology it is not easy to differentiate between narratives of marriage or sexual violence. As Karakantza (2003: 15) puts it ‘[…] in Greek mythic

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Figure 8. Attic red-figure bell-krater attributed to the Lykaon Painter. 440 B.C.E. Museum of Fine Arts (00.346) Boston. (LIMC Aktaion 81). Photograph © Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. Reproduced with the kind permission of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. I do not concede this to be the most valid perspective, since when Zeus decides to have a woman, there is nothing that he will not do to have her; and a prior sexual commitment between said woman and a mortal man is never a deterrent. Zeus’ sexual intentions towards Semele alone, facing Acteon’s potential rivalry, would be reason enough to punish the hunter, without any consideration for the mythological cycle of Dionysus.31 Indeed, in a fragment of Euripides lost tragedy

Semele, Acteon is killed by Zeus, because he was a competitor for Semele;32 and in Acusilaus account the hunter is punished by Artemis, possibly at her father’s bidding, because he wanted to take Semele as his wife.33 As Janko puts it ‘Semele belongs to Zeus, not, it is implied, to Actaeon’.34 I believe that most of the traditions concerning Actaeon, hint to a crime of similar sexual premise. His interest in Semele is motivated by sexual desire, and it is not clear if his approach to her was violent or not.35 Diodorus does relate a version where Actaeon intends to consummate a sexual relationship

Lacy’s claim, stating that despite the example of incest in this version does not follow the known pattern of incest in ancient Greece, ‘such intra-familial marriages are attested’. Janko (1984: 301) also considers the possibility of incest. Nevertheless, Tiresias’ punishment seems to have been a fit retribution for incest. Oedipus the most paradigmatic example of incest in antiquity, chooses to blind himself after gaining knowledge of his transgression. For more on the relation between blindness and incest see Buxton 1980: 32; Cantarella 2005: 244. 31  However, I am not disregarding the relationship between Zeus and Dionysus. In fact, father and son share a very special bound. There are several examples of the special affinity that Zeus and Dionysus share. The genitive form of Zeus, Dios, is part of the nominative form of Dionysus. They are literally connected by name, Dionysus is literally the son of Zeus. This literal connection is also perceptible in the birth of Dionysus from Zeus thigh, much like Athena who also

shares an especially relation with her father. Both are identified with the bull, connection that can be traced since the Minoan civilization. In the orphic tradition, Dionysus was professedly Zeus’ predilect son, destined to take his father place as the ruler of the universe. For more, see Magalhães, 2015. 32  Deacy and McHardy 2013: 1003. 33  In the Bacchae, Semele’s sisters accuse her of engaging in an illicit sexual relationship (Eur. Ba. 26-31), which may be a remembrance of the Actaeon-Semele tradition. 34  Janko 1984: 301. 35  See Karakantza quote in n24.

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and this representation is one of the very few that is not depicting the hero’s destruction, possibly pointing to that comradery. However, it is not a representation of the bath myth. Why is this? I believe that part of the answer is provided by the myth itself. Whoever gazes the naked body of the virgin goddess, either Athena or Artemis, will suffer a terrible fate. In terms of depiction of the nakedness of a female goddess, there are no representations of Athena and Artemis.39 There is a message conveyed by myth: in Callimachus account, there is a cautionary tale directed to the men from Argos.40 The mention of Actaeon is meant to mirror the fate of Tiresias, and to show Athena in a more benevolent light than Artemis, however, Actaeon’s Figure 9. Apulian oinochoe attributed to the Felton Painter. 350 B.C.E. Taranto National Archaeological. transgression is not alluded (LIMC Aktaion 83b). Drawing by Filipe Soares. to a specific ritual. Any man who was familiar with the myth would then be warned of the consequences of gazing a with Artemis, one of the goddesses that chose to remain a nude divine body, unless that was the deity’s will. Actaeon is virgin since birth. This version echoes the Actaeon-Semele punished because he saw a forbidden body, because he laid his myth, changing the main female role but maintaining the eyes on something that was not his to look at. sexual transgression that eventually leads to his demise, the same in both accounts. The earliest known depiction of the bath of Artemis is a gem from the 1st century B.C.E. (Figure 12), where a naked Artemis But what about the bath myth? If we base ourselves in is gazed by Actaeon, already in a state of metamorphoses as Callimachus’ account only, Actaeon’s harsh punishment was indicated by the antlers sprouting of his head. This is the first due to an unwilling visual transgression. We know that the representation of the version that became widely popular in myth where Tiresias sees Athena naked already existed at the Roman times.41 time of Pherecydes (6th century B.C.E) ,36 asserting the motif of visual transgression that, in Callimachus, is compared with Although the accounts by Callimachus and Ovid emphasize Actaeon’s transgression. Also, the punishment through the the unwillingness of Acteon to see the goddess, we know that, dogs fits the bath myth, since Actaeon was hunting and so it in every other version of the myth, the hunter was guilty of was normal to be accompanied by his dogs, but does not make the same sense in the Semele version, since it was a courting scene instead of a hunting one. It is plausible to assume 39  The goddess that is usually depicted naked is, for obvious reasons, that the bath myth may be at least as old as the Semele Aphrodite. However, the naked representations of the goddess are only massively produced after the mid-fourth century statue version, that both coexisted in space and time, however, we by Praxiteles, the famous Aphrodite Knidia, considered the first do not possess any literary account of the bath myth older monumental female nude in western art (Lee 2015: 103). Aphrodite is than the fifth hymn of Callimachus. Not only literary, but at the centre of the other known myth where a mortal man is punished we do not possess a single archaic-classical representation for gazing a goddess while she bathes. In Ptolemy Hephaestion (Nov. Hist. 1), Aphrodite blinded Erymanthus, son of Apollo, because he saw of this version.37 An Apulian red-figured stamnos from the her bathing after the union with Adonis. Although it follows a similar Bibliothèque national de Paris may depict one detail from structure to the other bath myths, we do not know anything else of the account by Callimachus.38 Here, Actaeon is seated, petting this tradition. a dog under Artemis watchful eyes. In the hymn (110), it is 40  As Stephens (2011: 4) points, ‘the central section of the poem stated that Actaeon and Artemis were hunting companions, contains a cautionary tale directed at the Argive men, who are urged to avert their eyes from the sacred event’. There are some similarities between this ritual and the Plynteria, one of the Athenian festivals dedicated to Athena Polias. For this see Magalhães 2016. 41  According to Schlam (1984: 99), the bath myth is represented at least twenty-one times in the roman paintings from Campania.

Apollodorus Bibl. 3.6.7. The same for the myth of Tiresias and Athena. 38  LIMC Aktaion 112. 36  37 

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Figure 10. Apulian amphora. Middle of 4th century B.C.E. Previously in the Staatliche Museen zu Berlin (F 3239), until 1945, now in the Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts (AB 3207). (LIMC Aktaion 88). ANTIKENSAMMLUNG, STAATLICHE MUSEEN ZU BERLIN -PREUSSISCHER KULTURBESITZ- Reproduced with the kind permission of the Antikensammlung, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin.

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Figure 11. Attic red-figured krater (fragments) attributed to the Pan painter. 500-400 B.C.E. Athens, National Museum, Acropolis Coll. (2.760). (Boardman 1975: figure 337.1). Drawing by Filipe Soares. first written evidence of the innocence of Actaeon, however, despite the declared unintentionality of Actaeon when he saw Artemis bathing, the bath scenario is by itself erotic. Aphrodite, the goddess of sex, is born from the sea,44 rising from the water. The goddess of sex is literally born coming out of her bath. In the Homeric hymn to Aphrodite, (5.54) the goddess saw Anchises, Aeneas’ father, for the first time among the springs of mount Ida. In the Odyssey (8.362-66), Aphrodite’s beauty is enhanced with a bath, contrary to Penelope that, not intending to look more attractive, refuses the suggestion to bathe. Bathing was thought to increase sexual attractiveness and fertility,45 being part of the pre-nuptial cleansing ritual and also part of the cleansing ritual after intercourse.46 In Callimachus’ Hymn, Artemis is inserted in a sexualized environment, forbidden to the eyes of men, and Actaeon is punished for invading such space and gazing the forbidden body of Artemis in a forbidden sexualized context. Every known version of the myth of Actaeon, except for Euripides’ account, shares a common sexual trait. He showed his sexual intentions towards Semele in the oldest surviving sources, and intended to consummate marriage with Artemis in Diodorus’ version. In the bath myth, he enters an erotic scenario where a virgin goddess is bathing. The fact that the bathing goddess is Artemis only aggravates the transgression and simultaneously contributes to the sexual charge of the episode.47 We do not know what sources were available to the writer, but those possibly emphasised Actaeon’s intentionality like all the

Figure 12. Blue chalcedony gem. 1st century B.C.E. Antikensammlung,Staatliche Museen zu Berlin (FG6435). (LIMC Aktaion 115ª). ANTIKENSAMMLUNG, STAATLICHE MUSEEN ZU BERLIN -PREUSSISCHER KULTURBESITZ- Reproduced with the kind permission of the Antikensammlung, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin.

Hes. Th. 192-195 Lee 2015: 115 46  Seaman (2004) explores this topic. For a prenuptial example see Thuc. 2.15.5 reference for the tradition of using water before marriage. For a post-sexual use, see for example, the bath of Aphrodite after she was discovered in bed with Ares, by Hephaestus (Od. 8.266-366). For more examples, Seaman 2004: 562. 47  As Loraux (1995: 215) noted, the body of the parthenos is completely forbidden, however, simultaneously it is a territory that was never explored, flesh that was never touched, and so it constitutes a great aphrodisiacal element. The seductive power of a virgin is already perceived in the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite (81-83). When Aphrodite decides to seduce Anchises, she takes the form of a virgin, considering such to be the most effective form to arouse a man (Cyrino 2010: 90). I do not believe that the fact that the two goddesses, in this hymn, being virgins is a coincidence, since it is a factor that gives an extra emphasis to the transgression. Loraux (1995: 215) argued that there is one central difference: the fact that Artemis is conceived as a sexual being and Athena not. For this discussion see Magalhães 2016. 44  45 

an intentional transgression. That intentionality is observable in the fragment of the papyrus dictionary of metamorphoses, as well as in Euripides and Diodorus, and, in latter accounts, in Apuleius42 and Nonnus,43 where Acteon’s sexual longing for the goddess is well emphasized. The Bath of Pallas is actually the Apul. Met. 2.4. Here, Actaeon is not again depicted as an unwilling victim, but driven by his own intent and curiosity (curioso). Instead of stumbling accidently into the fountain where the goddess was bathing, he waits for her (in fonte loturam Dianam opperiens visitor). 43  Source 42 

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Bibliography

other versions of the myth do. That same intentionality is later readapted in Nonnus.48 He narrates the desire that Acteon felt to gaze the body that was forbidden (θηητήρ δ᾽ἀκόρητος ἀθηήτοιο θεαίνης) and how the hunter saw every inch of the naked goddess (ἁγνόν ἀνυμφεύτοιο δέμας διεμέτρεε κούρῃς), and was later discovered by a nymph that observed him while he was fixated on the goddess’s naked body (καί τόν μέν ἀνείμονος εἶδος ἀνάσσης ὄμματι λαθριδίῳ δεδοκημένον ὄμματι λοξῷ). In this last remembrance of Actaeon, his mythological tradition comes full circle: he commits a visual transgression, based on sexual desire and suffers his archaic punishment.

Akimova, Ludmila and Minina, Elena 2016. Apulian Red-Figure Amphora. In Ursula Kästner and David Saunders (eds.) Dangerous perfection: ancient funerary vases from southern Italy: 97-101. Los Angeles: J. Paul Getty Museum. Boardman, John 1974. Athenian black figure vases: a handbook. London: Thames and Hudson. Boardman, John 1975. Athenian red figure vases - the Archaic period: a handbook. London: Thames and Hudson. Boardman, John 1989. Athenian red figure vases - the Classical period: a handbook. London: Thames and Hudson. Buxton, R. G. A. 1980. Blindness and Limits: Sophokles and the Logic of Myth. In The Journal of Hellenic Studies 100: 22-37. Cyrino, Monica Silveira 2010. Aphrodite. London: Routledge. Deacy, Susan and McHardy, Fiona 2013. Uxoricide in Pregnancy: Ancient Greek Domestic Violence in Evolutionary Perspective. In Evolutionary Psychology 11(5): 994-1010. Depew, Mary 1994. POxy 2509 and Callimachus’ Lavacrum Palladis: αἰγιόχοιο Διὸς κούρη μεγάλοιο. In The Classical Quarterly 44(2): 410-426. Depew, Mary 2004. Gender, Power and Poetics. In M. A. Harder, R. F. Regtuit and G. C. Wakker (eds.) Callimachus. Vol. 2: 117-138. Leuven: Peeters. Euripides 1962. The Bacchae. Translated by E. R. Dodds. London: Oxford University Press. Euripides 1970-72. Les Bacchantes. Translated by Jeanne Roux. I-II. Paris: Société d’édition ‘Les Belles Lettres. Euripides 1996. The Bacchae. Translated by Richard Seaford. Warminster: Aris & Philips Ltd. Guimond, L. 1981. Aktaion. In Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae. I.I: 454-69. Graf, Fritz 2002. Myth in Ovid. In Philip Hardie (ed.) The Cambridge Companion to Ovid: 108-121. Cambridge: New York: Cambridge University Press. Heath, John 1992. Actaeon, the unmannerly intruder: the myth and its meaning in classical literature. New York: P. Lang. Janko, R. 1984. P. Oxy. 2509’: Hesiod’s ‘Catalogue’ on the Death of Actaeon. In Phoenix 38(4): 299-307. Karakantza, E. 2003. The semiology of rape; The meeting of Odysseus and Nausikaa in book 6 of the Odyssey. In Classics Ireland 10: 8-26. Lacy, Ronald Lamar 1990. Aktaion and a Lost ‘Bath of Artemis’. In The Journal of Hellenic Studies 110: 26-42. Lee, Mireille M. 2009. Body modifications in Classical Greece. In: T. Fögen and M. M. Lee (eds.) Bodies and Boundaries in Graeco-Roman Antiquity: 155-181. Berlin; New York: Walter de Gruyter. Lee, Mireille M. 2015. Other ‘Ways of Seeing’: Female Viewers of the Knidian Aphrodite. In Helios 42(1): 103-122. Loraux, N. 1995. The experiences of Tiresias: the feminine and the Greek man. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Magalhães, José Malheiro 2015. Sangue em Vinho: O que tem Jesus Cristo que ver com Dioniso. Masters Thesis. Faculdade de Letras da Universidade de Lisboa. Available at: https:// www.academia.edu/31771634/Sangue_em_Vinho_O_que_ tem_Jesus_Cristo_que_ver_com_Dioniso Magalhães, José Malheiro 2016. Laivos de feminilidade na Atena homérica. In Cadmo 25: 25-40. Morrison, A.D. 2005. Sexual ambiguity and the identity of the narrator in Callimachus’ Hymn to Athena. In BICS 48: 27-46.

One thousand years, give or take one or two centuries, separate the reference to Actaeon in the Ehoiai and Nonnus’ account of his transgression. The most ancient accounts known to us point to Actaeon being punished because he craved a woman that he could not have. We do not have any other written account of this myth until Euripides, although we know that Aeschylus wrote a play, Toxotides, where Actaeon was a central figure, and at least three other tragedies, all entitled Actaeon, where written by Phrynichus (before Aeschylus), Iophon (final quarter of the fifth century) and Cleophon (mid fourth century). The loss of these texts creates a void of information of two centuries that cannot be filled unless they return to us in the future. It is a gap that separates the Semele-Actaeon motif from the older sources, from the bath version in Callimachus. Although there are grounds to speculate that the bath myth existed before, the surviving references to the bath start with Callimachus, becoming a popular myth in the following centuries, as we can deduct from the accounts in the Bibliotheca and Pausanias; being the only reason for Actaeon’s punishment after Ovid. Vase paintings do not shed a light on this discussion, since almost all the representations of Actaeon depict the punishment but not the cause. We may have some hints to the cause, like we saw in the case of Figures 9, 10 and 11; but the first representation that depicts the reason for the punishment is the 1st century B.C.E gem (Figure 12), where Actaeon is gazing Artemis. However, although different sources convey different transgressions, all, except for the account in the Bacchae, share a common sexual ground: either desiring to take Semele as a wife; craving to consummate marriage with Artemis or looking at the naked body of the virgin goddess. So being, Actaeon’s demise most likely is due to, if not a sexual transgression, or at least a transgression motivated by sexual cravings. Acknowledgements There are several persons and institutions without whom this paper would not have been possible. I have a huge debt of gratitude to Dr. Susan Deacy and Dr. Nuno Simões Rodrigues for their comments, suggestions and corrections on earlier versions of this paper. I should also thank the House-Museum Medeiros e Almeida; the National Archaeological Museum of Athens; the Antikensammlung, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin; the Harvard Art Museums; and the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, for kindly allowing me to share the reproductions of some of the artefacts in their amazing collections. Last, but not least, I want to thank Filipe Soares, my long-time friend, for putting his drawing talents at my disposal - it would be otherwise impossible to accurately provide representations of some artefacts analysed in this article. 48 

Non. D. 5.305 ff.

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Renner, Timothy 1978. A Papyrus Dictionary of Metamorphoses. In Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 82: 277-293. Schlam, Carl. C. 1984. Diana and Actaeon: Metamorphoses of a Myth. In Classical Antiquity 3(1): 82-110.

Seaman, K. 2004. Retrieving the Original Aphrodite of Knidos. In Rendiconti della Accademia dei Lincei 15(3): 531–94. Stephens, Susan 2011. Introduction. In Benjamin AcostaHughes, Luigi Lehnus and Susan Stephens (eds.) Brill’s companion to Callimachus: 1-19. Leiden; Boston: Brill.

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Greek Myth on Magical Gems: Survivals and Revivals Paolo Vitellozzi1 people’,6 and there is no doubt that the exotic provenance of rituals like those performed by the professional magicians in the streets of Alexandria was in itself a sign of prestige to the eyes of their customers who had a Graeco-Roman lifestyle.

In1both the Archaic and Classical Period as well as in the Hellenistic, Greek engraved gems were used essentially as jewels or seals, and possibly also as amulets. The Greek sphragistic tradition, to which John Boardman dedicated many of his seminal studies,2 was eventually inherited by the Roman Empire, and it was during this period that many Greek motifs spread across the Mediterranean and the western provinces. The great increase in gem-cutting from the time of Augustus on to the second century CE eventually led to the production of cheaper intaglios, with routinised imageries which co-existed with the finest creations of famous ateliers, according to the different purchasing power of the sub-élites. These products contributed to the diffusion of the most significant motifs of Greek art among the middle classes of the provinces. However, in the late Empire, when the Greekspeaking élites of Roman Egypt tried to combine the Pharaonic religious lore with the Near Eastern cultures and the Persian tradition in the highly-literated context of the Greek cities, flourished a new typology of amulets bearing divine names or formulas of non-Hellenic origin inscribed in Greek. These formulas were often combined with images of gods derived from the several different cultures that co-existed under the Roman domination. As the reading of their inscriptions seems to suggest, these gemstones have an exclusively amuletic function and share the same cultural background of the Greek magical papyri. Therefore, they are conventionally labelled under the definition of ‘magical gems’.

Nevertheless, it was the Greek culture that offered the background for the cross-cultural experience that the scholars call synchretism, providing philosophical thoughts and artistic shapes for mixing and reinterpreting thousandyear old traditions in a new perspective. Indeed, amongst the many influences that came from the non-Hellenic background, some genuine elements of the oldest Greek culture found their place in this new religious context, surviving through the centuries and being constantly renewed by the contact with other traditions. Once again the Greeks, as they had done in the early archaic period, borrowed myths and lore from the cultures they met during their expansion across the Mediterranean and adapted them according to their own way of thinking, thus producing a new cultural experience. However, though the non-Hellenic elements play a major role in Graeco-Roman magic, some popular Greek gods and myths still have a part in the iconographic repertoire of magical gems, and this is in perfect accordance with the existence of a Cypriot tradition mentioned in Pliny’s account on magic;7 scholars have been recently focusing on the presence of Greek myth on magical gems, and their conclusions provide us with a more detailed view about the spread of Hellenic features in non-Hellenic areas.8

Although they were designed by professional magicians, they are in close continuity with a thousand year-old tradition of making amulets out of stones3 and their particular features (i.e. writings, magical formulas, particular motifs) have led the scholars to create a special category for this kind of artefacts.4 In fact, in the academic tradition, magical stone amulets were kept separate from Graeco-Roman ‘ordinary’ gems until the beginning of the twentieth century, because they simply do not conform to the scholarly idea of ‘Classic’.5 This is due to the fact that the exotic elements that we find on the so-called magical gems reflect the interaction among the various cultures of the Mediterranean basin (Egyptian, Jewish, Babylonian, Persian) within the hellenised context of the Greek poleis under the Roman empire. This exoticism is in itself a feature of the phaenomenon called ‘magic’; as many scholars usually explain, magic is often ‘the religion of other

Some of the most conservative elements of the Greek tradition on magical stone amulets are, obviously, gods and goddesses. The Pheidian type of an enthroned Zeus (Figure 1) appears on a series of pale-blue translucent chalcedonies,9 and in many cases he is associated explicitly with the god of Israel; a good example of this is provided by a stone published by Sir Boardman and Claudia Wagner,10 where the type bears on the obverse the inscription σῷζε με Ἰάω, ‘Save me, Yhwh’. This image of God as an adult bearded man will survive through the centuries, eventually entering the Modern Era. Apart from Zeus, also several other Greek deities appear on magical gems; sometimes they are assimilated with their Egyptian or Eastern counterparts, but in many cases they retain their original features.11 In this pantheon, Hekate, goddess of magic par excellence, has an extremely relevant role, occurring in the characteristic three-headed form mentioned in the

I am delighted to celebrate Sir John Boardman, whose books have constantly inspired me since I was a student, stimulating my passion for engraved gems and magical amulets. I would also like to thank the Organisers for the opportunity to present this paper, an anonymous reviewer for the insightful suggestions and Flavia A. Tulli for revising my English manuscript. 2  See, above all, Boardman 1963; Boardman 1968; Boardman 1997; Boardman 2001². 3  See, in general, Faraone 2018. 4  See especially Gordon 2011: 44-45; Nagy 2015: 207-220. 5  On the state of research on magical gems see recently Gordon 2011; Dasen, Nagy 2018. 1 

See e.g. F. Graf in ThesCRA, s.v. Magic/Magie/Magie/Magia: 287, lines 42-43. 7  Plin. Nat. 30.11. 8  Some fundamental essays are: Nagy 2002; Mastrocinque 2003; SGG I: 315-375; Mastrocinque 2005; Dasen 2008; Faraone 2009; Faraone 2010; Nagy 2011; Nagy 2012; Faraone 2011; Faraone 2013a; Faraone 2013b; Mastrocinque 2013; Nagy 2015; Faraone 2016. 9  On the type see Michel 2004: 344-345, no. 57.1.a. A good example: Vitellozzi 2010: 420-421, no. 519 = SGG II: 111, pl. 32, no. Pe 18 (Fig. 1). 10  Wagner/Boardman 2003: 42, no. 263 (CBd no. 1256). 11  See Mastrocinque 2003 and SGG I: 315-375. 6 

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Figure 1. Perugia, Museo Archeologico Nazionale dell’Umbria (Inv. no. 1470). Chalcedony: obv. Zeus / rev. charakteres. The photograph, taken by the author, appears courtesy of the Museo Archeologico Nazionale dell’Umbria. magical papyri,12 while Hermes, whose images seem to have been employed much earlier as amulets for gaining money,13 is often associated with Anubis, Toth or Tychon14 and is worshipped both as a guide of souls (psychopompos) and as a god of chance.

In general, Greek gods are not as frequent as on ordinary Roman imperial intaglios; despite what one would expect, the image of Dionysos occurs just once in the entire corpus of magical gems, namely on a traditional amethyst talisman against drunkenness (Figure 2).18 The presence of magical names on the reverse gives proof of the amuletic use of the gem, but we well know that the magical use of amethyst is much older.19

Other deities often represented on protective amulets (phylakteria) are Kronos, Demeter and Kore/Persephone, Nemesis, Nike, Pan, Athena, Ares, Aphrodite, Apollo and Artemis, Helios and Selene,15 Tyche; in many cases their synchretistic features are emphasised by combining their images with Jewish or Egyptian-sounding formulas, but there are plenty of gems bearing mottos or even short prayers in Greek.16

The magical phylacteries, based essentially on the cooperation between the sacred image of a god and the power of magical words, were thought to derive their power from the descriptive effectiveness of the image itself. This is probably why the Egyptian and Near Eastern repertoire, with its highly hyeratic representations of the gods, seems to take over in the corpus of magical gems; but we must not forget that those gems we call ‘magical’ are only a small part of a wider number of engraved stones that were employed in magical rituals, as the ancient lapidaries seem to suggest. In fact, as Árpád M. Nagy and Christopher A. Faraone have well demonstrated,20 many of the gems that were used as talismans probably had no magical symbols or formulas, while most of the gem designs mentioned in the lapidaries are said to display Greek deities.

The magical papyri, together with the ancient lapidaries, provide us with a multitude of recipes for making stone amulets containing images of Greek gods; a large part of these motifs is attested on ordinary intaglios as well as on magical amulets, but when we do not find any direct parallels, the silence of the documentation should be regarded with extreme caution.17 PGM IV.2622-2707. Hekate on magical gems: Michel 2004: 277-278, no. 21. 13  See most recently Faraone 2018: 141-144. 14  See e.g. the British Museum amulet published by Michel 2001a: 40, pl. 9, nos. 61-62. 15  See the lists provided in Michel 2004 and SGG I: 315-375. 16  See e.g. the short prayer inscribed on the BM gem Michel 2001a: 45, pl. 10, n. 68 (CBd no. 446), as well as the invocations, respectively to Hermes and Aphrodite, on two gems in Leiden newly investigated by Mastrocinque (2017). 17  On the relationship between ancient lapidaries and engraved gems see recently Waegeman 1987; Nagy 2002; Mastrocinque 2005; Perea 12 

However, if the Graeco-Roman gods are far outnumbered on protective amulets by the presence of non-Hellenic figures Yébenes 2010a; Perea Yébenes 2010b; Nagy 2012; Mastrocinque 2015; Vitellozzi, 2018. 18  Mastrocinque 2014: 142, no. 373. 19  Plin. Nat. 37, 124. 20  Nagy 2012 provides a detailed analysis of the phaenomenon, while Faraone 2018 widely discusses the historical development of amulets in the classical world.

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Figure 2. Paris, Biliothèque Nationale: Département des Monnaies et des Medailles. Amethyst: obv. Dionysos / rev. charakteres. Photo: Attilio Mastrocinque. such as the anguipede or the Egyptian decan Chnoubis, the amulets made for medical purposes offer spectacular evidence of the use of Greek mythology in magical rituals. This kind of amulets, evidently made for specific needs which go beyond the general notion of ‘divine protection’, were produced according to a strict principle of persuasive analogy.21 Probably, our gem-makers had found in the narrative tension that Greek art achieved in the centuries an effective means for expressing the dynamic force of their magical action.

tradition, protects the stomach and its image frequently occurs on digestive amulets;25 therefore, according to the principle of persuasive analogy, we could also imagine that our gem-makers would have chosen Heracles, the alexikakos who had killed the Nemean lion, to fight the rage of the beast who dominates over the stomach. The episode of the Nemean lion is a recurring theme in Greek and Roman art and its popularity may be connected with amuletic properties. In fact, the Nemean scene with the standing Heracles appears to have been borrowed directly from the Near East, as the Phoenician scarabs seem to demonstrate.26 As Faraone explains, a cornelian scarab in the British Museum, showing two udjat eyes behind the hero, suggests that the scene was thought to have protective powers much earlier;27 the fact that the figure of Heracles could have an amuletic function in the archaic period is also demonstrated by a finger ring showing the hero accompanied by the inscription soter.28 In this case, an old motif survives the centuries with all its meanings, which are enhanced by the inscribed textual formulas.

In fact, apart from the gems showing Asklepios, some of which are made after the well-known description of the PGM, 22 the most intriguing case is the image of Heracles strangling the Nemean lion (Figure 3), which has recently been studied by Faraone.23 This popular Heraclean myth is very old and widespread in archaic Greece, and in the Roman imperial period it was thought to have curative powers. In his Therapeutica, Alexander of Tralles writes a chapter ‘on the colicky condition’ in which he prescribes the engraving of this scene against the painful diseases of the lower intestine.24 As Faraone himself has pointed out, probably this image was adopted for the claws that the lion places on the belly of the hero that might represent the abdominal pain given by a colic; by the process of sympathetic magic this pain is extinguished, just as Heracles strangled the lion. Furthermore, it is known that Chnoubis, the lion-headed decan of the Egyptian

Veronique Dasen29 has discussed a series of images, on red jaspers or carnelian gems, that can be classified as the female counterpart of Heracles amulets. These gems, made for protecting women from the diseases connected with female reproductive health, show Omphale30 (Figure 4), usually with Heracles’ club in her hand, either defending her body from the asinine Seth or (where Omphale is pregnant), protecting her unborn baby. Some of these amulets bear the inscription

On persuasive images in the ancient world and on the notion of ‘persuasive analogy’ see Faraone 1992: 117–123; Faraone 2018: 106111. 22  PGM VII.628-642. A perfect parallel: Michel 2001a: 203, pl. 47, no. 319. Asklepios on magical gems: Michel 2004, 253, no. 7. 23  Faraone 2013a; Faraone 2018: 118-121. 24  Alex.Trall. VIII (IV, 80 Brunet) Εἰς λίθον Μηδικὸν γλύψον Ἡρακλέα ὀρθὸν πνίγοντα λέοντα καὶ ἐγκλείσας εἰς δακτυλίδιον χρυσοῦν δίδου φορεῖν. ‘On a Median stone engrave Heracles standing upright and throttling a lion. Set it in a gold ring and give it to the patient to wear’. 21 

Chnoubis on magical gems: SGG I: 78–82, 242–261; Michel 2004: 166–177.255–263, 11; Dasen, Nagy 2012; Quack forthcoming: § 2.4.3. 26  On the Phoenician scarabs see Boardman 2003. 27  Faraone 2011: 52-54, pl. 10. 28  Boardman 2001²: 188, pl. 441; 237. 29  Dasen 2008. See also Faraone 2016: 109-110. 30  See Michel 2001b: 79, pl. 14, no. 83 = Michel 2004: 358, pl. 78.3 (CBd no. 1703): on the obverse inscr. ΟΜΨΑΛΗ. 25 

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Figure 3. Perugia, Museo Archeologico Nazionale dell’Umbria (inv. no. 1493). Red jasper showing Herakles and the Nemean lion (Vitellozzi 2010: 421–422, no. 520). The photograph, taken by the author, appears courtesy of the Museo Archeologico Nazionale dell’Umbria.

Figure 4. The J. Paul Getty Museum, Villa Collection, Malibu, California (82.AN.162.80a). Engraved Red Jasper Ringstone. Amulet showing Omphale (CBd no. 2338). Digital images courtesy of the Getty’s Open Content Program.

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Figure 5. Verona, Musei Civici d’Arte: Museo di Castelvecchio (inv. no. 26737). Pink coral: obv. Gorgon’s head / rev. Hekate. Photo: Attilio Mastrocinque, reproduced by courtesy of the Civici Musei d’Arte di Verona. ‘Stand still, womb!’,31 which is part of a longer iambic incantation often inscribed on ‘uterine’ medical amulets and reading: ‘Stand still, womb, lest Typhon seize you!’.32 On these gems, the power connected with the figure of Heracles is extended to his female counterpart, in order to have two kinds of sexually-oriented amulets.

of the underworld and related to darkness and death; it also appears as a protective symbol on uterine amulets, but, according to a recipe we know from the ancient lapidaries, it may serve also for restraining charms (thymokatocha) based on the analogy between the petrifying gaze of the Gorgon and the purpose of restraining anger. Most of these gems are made of coral, which was thought to be Medusa’s petrified blood (hence the Greek appellation gorgonios). A Roman-era lapidary prescribes to engrave this image against the abuse of wicked people.35 The correspondence between this recipe and the extant gemstones is close, although with two important variations: the lapidary says to engrave either the image of Hekate or the Gorgon’s head, whereas the gems have both.36

A further popular mythological episode employed on ancient magical amulets is the fight between Perseus and the Gorgon; it is well known that the severed head of Medusa, probably the oldest Greek apotropaion, occurs often on gems since the archaic period,33 being both a strong warning against the breaking of a seal and an effective protection against the evil-eye. On magical amulets, the Gorgon’s head is normally associated with Hekate (Figure 5),34 thus becoming a symbol

The mythological episode of Perseus, one of the oldest in the Greek tradition, is clearly the basis for the creation of all these

Grk. сτάθητι μήτρα. See Griffiths, Barb 1959: 369, pl. 38g = Michel 2004: 341, no. 54.9_7; Mastrocinque 2014: 159, no. 425. 32  Grk. сτάλητι μήτρα μή сε Τυφῶν καταλάβῃ. See Bonner 1950: 275, no. 140 = Michel 2004: 339, no. 54.4.c_2. 33  See Boardman 1968: 37-39. On the Gorgoneion motif see also Faraone 2018: 106-111 and, in this volume, the essay by Olympia Bobou. 34  According to Nagy 2002: 173, no. 18, the word ζῴδιον (Lat. signum) has to be translated as ‘image’ rather than as ‘animal’ (see Perea Yébenes 2010a: 468): this is confirmed by a series of red jaspers, red carnelians, or corals (corresponding to the ancient definition of ‘κοράλιος›) showing Hekate (or one of her attributes) on the reverse, with a gorgoneion on the obverse (both the lapidaries indicate these two motifs as alternatives). See Nagy 2002: 168–170; Michel 2004: 268, 18.1.b. See also SGG II: 193–194, pls. 56–57, nos. Vr 25–26 (corals), both showing a gorgoneion on the obverse: Vr 26 [Fig. 22] has Hekate on the reverse, while Vr 25 shows an object (Heracles’ club for the editors) which could be interpreted as Hekate’s torch. On this type in ancient lapidaries see recently Perea Yébenes 2010a, 469. 31 

Orphei Lithica Kerygmata 20. 30-35: Ἐκλήθη / δὲ οὗτος καὶ ὑπό τινων γοργόνιος, διὸ εἰς αὐτὸν εἰσχα/ράσσουσι Γοργόνα καὶ κατακλείουσιν ἐν χρυσῷ ἢ ἀργύρῳ. / Καὶ τελεσθείς ἐστι μέγιστον φυλακτήριον πρὸς / πάντα φόβον καὶ ἐπήρειαν πονηρῶν ἀνθρώπων καὶ μάλιστα / ἐν ταῖς ὁδοιπορίαις πρὸς ἐφόδους πονηρῶν καὶ πρὸς / ἑρπετὰ παντοῖα· ἔστι γαρ ὁ λίθος Ἑρμοῦ. Ποιεῖ δὲ καὶ ἐπὶ τῶν ὀνείρων καὶ φαντάσματα ἀπωθεῖται τῇ ἰδίᾳ / ἀντιπαθείᾳ. Μέγιστον δὲ φυλακτήριον καὶ πρὸς ὀργὴν δεσπότου γλυφέντος ἐν αὐτῷ ζωδίου Ἑκάτης ἢ Γοργόνος προτομῆς. ‘This stone is even called Gorgonios by some and on account of this they carve a Gorgon into it and set in gold or silver. And, if it is consecrated, it is the greatest phylactery against every fear, against the abuse of wicked persons, and most of all for those in a journey against the attacks of the wicked and all the creeping things. It is also the greatest phlylactery [i.e. for slaves] against the anger of masters, if the image of Hekate is carved into it or the frontal head (protome) of the Gorgon’. 36  Cf. Faraone 2016: 105. 35 

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Figure 6. St. Petersburg, Hermitage Museum. Inv. no. Җ.157 (GR-21714). Nicolo: obv. Perseus / rev. Inscription. gems, and this is even more evident on a gem at the Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg, recently commented by Árpád Nagy:37 this niccolo shows the flying Perseus holding the head of Medusa (Figure 6), with the inscription: ‘Flee gout, Perseus pursues you’.38 Here, as in the Nemean lion on the Heracles amulets, the daemon causing the disease is associated with Medusa, probably because the body of who suffers from gout looks as if it has been turned into stone; therefore one needs the help of Perseus, who was thought to have the power to seize the daemon. The Hermitage gem displays precisely the typical attributes of Perseus, leading Nagy to suggest that the engraver was inspired by a model, on which he made variations of a popular version of the myth, one of those historiolae that are so frequent in Graeco-Roman magic.39 In fact, the amulet appears to be the product of a genuine Greek tradition, without the common magical names, but with a trochaic incantation that reflects a Hellenic taste. Another series of gems, normally identified as colic amulets, probably refers to an alternative version of the story of Aelous and the four winds (Figure 7).40 Once again, these amulets, some of which were evidently made against aerophagy and meteorism,41 were thought to work by persuasive analogy: just as Aeolus’ bag releases the four winds, the owners wished to remove the excess gas from their intestine. As Cambell Bonner rightly demonstrated,42 the scene was copied rather closely from a series of coins of Neapolis in Samaria depicting the famous Marsyas statue in the Roman forum, with an eagle seeming to support a representation of Mount Gerizim, which was near the town. In Bonner’s hypothesis, the gem makers reinterpreted the figure of Marsyas engraved on coins See Nagy 2015: 220-227. ΦΥ[--] / ΠΟΔΑΓΡΑ / [-]ΕΡΣΕΥΣΣ / ΕΔΙWΧΙ → Φύ[γε] ποδάγρα [Πε] ρσεύς σε διώχι. 39  On the use of historiolae in ancient magic see recently: Brashear 1995: 3395, 3438-3440; Faraone 1995; Versnel 2002: 122-130, 150-151; Nagy 2015: 226-227; Faraone 2018: 229-236. 40  See the list of these gems in Michel 2004: 237, no. 1.2. 41  One of them bears the inscription: ΠΡOC KWΛANEMON. 42  Bonner 1942; Bonner 1950: 64-66. Contra: Eitrem 1950. 37  38 

Figure 7. Paris, Biliothèque Nationale: Département des Monnaies et des Médailles. Haematite: obv. Aeolus and Hermes/ rev. inscription. Mastrocinque 2014, no. 408. Photo: Attilio Mastrocinque.

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Figure 8. Aquileia, Museo Archeologico Nazionale (Inv. no. 1561). Haematite: obv. Cerberus / rev. charakteres. SGG II: no. Aq 24. Photo: Attilio Mastrocinque, used with permission. as that of Aeolus with the winds stored in his bag, and this eventually led them to use this imagery for colic amulets. This interpretation, which in Bonner’s opinion is due to mere ignorance, could have been the result of an intentional creative effort. Probably, our gem designers could have matched the two figures of Marsyas and Aeolus since both of them are deeply connected with ancient rituals of windcontrolling magic; the representation of Mount Gerizim could have been interpreted as the fabulous island ruled by Aelous, or even as Mount Olympus, where the eagle of Zeus and Hermes, who is also related to wind, gave Aeolus his power.

on a magnetite from Aquileia showing Cerberus, which was most probably used to silence barking dogs.47 (Figure 8) Finally, the third category of amulets that vividly illustrate the journey of magic into myth are those regarding love rituals. According to the definitions in the sources collected by Faraone,48 these gems can be classified in artefacts that gift charm to the bearer (charitesia) and gems used for binding spells (philtrokatadesmoi). A well-known series of blue gemstones, usually of lapis lazuli or blue glass, shows the image of Aphrodite anadyomene (Figure 9), inspired by the famous Apelles painting.49 In some cases, the image is accompanied by the same logos that we find in PGM IV.2928,50 at the end of a hexametrical prayer which a man should sing to ‘the star of Aphrodite’.51 This Egyptian sounding formula has been related by the scholars to Sothis and Isis,52 and this equation of Aphrodite with Isis is frequent in the magical papyri, but the gem makers were probably influenced by Egyptian astrology. In fact, according to Firmicus, Sothis is the name of the first decan of Cancer, associated by Teukros with the planet of Venus. According to Joachim F. Quack, this decan could be instead the third of Gemini, while this figure could be connected with the anadyomene type seen on the extant gems; in fact, the latin lists of decans describes the figure as a representation of Isis

Our amulets seem to show the old Aeolus, with the bag on his shoulder, begging Hermes to help him, but Hermes seems to refuse and looks elsewhere. If we follow Mastrocinque’s reading of one of the Paris specimens,43 the inscription ΛYCI can also be interpreted as a prefix λυсι-, probably connected with the Greek verb λύω, ‘loose’; we could even imagine that, in a tale which had not survived, Aeolus was depicted as a mage unable to control the winds properly, and therefore he asks Zeus and Hermes to help him. Sometimes, other allusions to Greek myth appear on inscriptions on medical amulets. The command given to Tantalus to drink blood was inscribed on haematite amulets created to control bleeding, and it is reminiscent of the underworld scene in the Odyssey where Ulysses meets the souls of the dead.44 The formula itself is part of a dactylic hexameter and even the aorist participle dipsas inscribed on gems is an echo of the dipsaon that we read in Homer. As Faraone has demonstrated,45 the Tantalus formula, which was often used to stop bleeding, could also be written as a diminishing text, a kind of back formation designed to undo the original purpose of the spell; in this case, the inscription, written in the characteristic wing-form (Grk. Pterygoma), is sometimes accompanied by the image of Ares, invoked as a cruel god of war that would cause bleeding instead of preventing it.46 Another echo of Ulysses’ nekyia can be found

See SGG II: 21 no. Aq 24. Faraone 1999. On the type see recently Faraone 2011: 54-55. 50  On the charm (PGM: Hymn 22) see Faraone 1999: 138-140. As Simone Michel has pointed out, the formula (Αρρωριφρασι, Γωθητινι, Κυπρογένεια, σουϊ ης θνοβοχου· θοριθε σθενεπιω ἄνασσα σερθενεβηηϊ) is the same we find in PGM.IV.2928 (for the variants see Mastrocinque 2014: 127-128, no. 339). Delatte and Derchain have pointed out that the variant Γωθητινι in the papyrus can well be explained as the result of confusing Ϲ (lunate sigma) Γ (gamma) with Τ (tau), and can be corrected with the CWΘΗCIΝI of the gems. This magical word was interpreted by Morton Smith (followed by Simone Michel) as a variant of the name σουθις (Sothis). 51  According to Joachim F. Quack (Quack, forthcoming: § 2.4.2), the passage σουϊ ης θνοβοχου θοριθε is to be read as a Greek transliteration of the demotic sbꜢ Ꜣs.t tꜢ nb(.t) Ꜣḫ.w tꜢ ḥr(.t) (‘Stern der Isis, die Herrin der Strahlkraft, die Obere’: Transl. J.F. Quack). 52  See above footnote 50. See also Quack, forthcoming: § 2.4.2. 47  48  49 

See Mastrocinque 2014: 153, no. 409. Hom. Od. 11.582-587. 45  Faraone 2009; Faraone 2012: 35-50; Faraone 2018: 89-100. 46  See Mastrocinque 2014: 133-134, nos. 353-354. 43  44 

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Figure 9. London, British Museum (inv. no. G 27, EA 56027). Jasper: obv. Aphrodite anadyomene / rev. inscription (Michel 2001: 51, pl. 11, no. 76; CBd no. 476). The photograph, sourced by the CBd, is reproduced by courtesy of the Trustees of the British Museum. curling her hair.53 This Hellenic image of Aphrodite seems to gradually replace an old representation of Isis, probably because of the persuasive force of the figure, which is clearly visible in the symbolic gesture of making curls. This kind of amulets generally show the well-known anadyomene type, but a magnetite published by Sir Boardman and Claudia Wagner54 has a more explicit imagery that depicts Aphrodite as a lady on a kline: klinai are often connected with popular love-making scenes, and therefore they are an explicit allusion to sex and love passion. The scene reminds us of a series of classical Greek gems showing a naked lady reclining and playing with a heron while an ant flies above the scene.55 John Boardman, discussing this motif, explains that ‘all these undressed ladies should be taken for nymphs or goddesses rather than mortals’;56 probably, our late-imperial amulets preserve the memory of their classical antecedents. This crossover between power and charm is illustrated well by the text of the Cyranides, a work of imperial date which preserves older tradition. In fact, the Homeric tale of Aphrodite’s kestos himas was rediscovered in the imperial period, and this eventually led to the creation of an entire set of gem designs, the traces of which are still clear on the extant specimens, as demonstrated by Attilio Mastrocinque. The gems included in the kestos himas are said to be engraved with images of Greek gods.57 According to the instructions,

Figure 10. Ann Arbor. Kelsey Museum of Archaeology, University of Michigan (inv. no. 26084). Glass. Aphrodite and Ares. Photograph: Christopher A. Faraone (CBd no. 1365), reproduced by courtesy of the Kelsey Museum of Archaeology.

Quack, forthcoming: 573-574. See also De triginta sex decanis: habens faciem Isidis, speciosam, crines habens quos hinc inde attrahit. 54  Wagner/Boardman 2003: 75, pl. 76, no. 577 (CBd no. 1188). I follow the reading proposed by Faraone 2010: 217. 55  See Boardman 2001²: 288, pl. 482. 56  Boardman 2001²: 197. 57  On these topics see, in general: Mastrocinque 2005; Perea Yébenes 2010b; Perea Yébenes 2014: 75-128; Mastrocinque 2015; Vitellozzi, 53 

one gem displays a castrated man with his genitals on the ground and Aphrodite looking at him, while another probably 2018.

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Figure 11. Perugia, Museo Archeologico Nazionale dell’Umbria (inv. no. 1526). Magnetite. Eros and Psyche (‘Sword of Dardanos’). The photograph, taken by the author, appears by courtesy of the Museo Archeologico Nazionale dell’Umbria. had the image of Aphrodite pulling a rose thorn from her foot; indeed, this highly symbolic gesture appears on a jasper with Eros pulling a thorn from a lion’s paw,58 just as in Apion’s tale of young Androcles in Gellius’ Noctes Atticae.59

made after the instructions of the ritual called ‘Sword of Dardanos’, provides evidence of how a mythological episode could be constantly reinterpreted in order to create new iconographies. The ritual called ‘Sword of Dardanos’ in the magical papyrus in the Biliothèque Nationale of Paris is a detailed procedure for performing a binding love spell66 that works through the cooperation of several elements, one of them being an engraved gem. The making of the gem is described in detail, 67 and a magnetite in the Perugia gem shows perfect correspondence with the text.68

However, if these imageries owe much to the Egyptian tradition, a British Museum jasper shows Aphrodite bound and threatened by Artemis, used to gift charm to the bearer Poseidonia;60 elsewhere, the goddess of love plays with Eros, just as she used to do on Greek gems of the classical period.61 This leads us to mention two important series of amulets, in close relationship with the extant papyri, which use paired divinities, with their genders clearly marked, as persuasive images; the users of these gems aimed at subjugating their victims erotically and at the same time giving themselves the dominating role. The first of these series, which seems to be inspired by the famous love affair narrated by Homer,62 shows either Ares binding Aphrodite in chains or the opposite (Figure 10);63 the other one, based on the story of Eros and Psyche, uses the torturing scenes for inducing sexual desire in the beloved victim.64

On this topic see, in general, Faraone 1999, 43–54. λαβὼν λίθον μάγνετα τὸν πνέοντα, γλύψον Ἀφροδίτην ἱππιсτὶ καθεμένην ἐπὶ Ψυχῆс, τῇ ἀριсτερᾷ χειρὶ κρατοῦсαν, τοὺс βοсτρύχουс ἀναδεсμευομένην, καὶ ἐπάνω τῆс κεϕαλῆс αὐτῆс· αχμαγε ραρπεψει· ὑποκάτω δὲ τῆс Ἀφροδίτηс καὶ τῆс Ψυχῆс Ἔρωτα ἐπὶ πόλου ἑсτῶτα, λαμπάδα κρατοῦντα καομένην, ϕλέγοντα τὴν Ψυχήν. ὑποκάτω δὲ τοῦ Ἔρωτοс τὰ ὀνόματα ταῦτα· αχαπα Ἀδωναῖε βαсμα χαραχω Ἰακώβ Ἰάω η · φαρφαρηϊ · εἰс δὲ τὸ ἕτερον μέροс τοῦ λίθου Ψυχήν καὶ Ἔρωτα περιπεπλεγμένουс ἑαυτοῖс καὶ ὑπὸ τοὺс πόδαс τοῦ Ἔρωτοс ταῦτα· с с с с с с с с, ὑποκάτω δὲ τῆс Ψυχῆс· η η η η η η η η · (PGM IV.1721–1745). Take a magnetic stone which is breathing and engrave Aphrodite sitting astride Psyche / and with her left hand holding her hair bound in curls. And above her head: ‘ACHMAGE RARPEPSEI’; and below / Aphrodite and Psyche engrave Eros standing on the vault of heaven, holding a blazing torch and burning Psyche. And below Eros these / names: ‘ACHAPA ADŌNAIE BASMA CHARAKŌ IAKŌB IAŌ Ē PHARPHARĒI’. On the other side of the stone engrave Psyche and Eros embracing / one another and beneath Eros’ feet these letters: ‘SSSSSSSS’, and beneath Psyche’s feet: ‘ĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒ’. (Engl. Tr. E.N. O’Neil). 68  The upper rim of the Perugia magnet bears the inscription AXMA[…]ΦEPMEI, probably to be read as AXMA[ΓE PAP]ΦEPMEI (αχμαγε ραρπεψει in PGM IV.1730). The lower part of the intaglio, all around the standing Eros, is occupied by a formula in six lines: Π/ AKAΠAKA/ AΔWNAIE/ BACMA XAP/AKW IAK/WB IAW → πακαπακα Ἀδωναῖε βαсμα χαραχω Ἰακώβ Ἰάω. The reverse shows Eros and Psyche embracing on a ground line, with an inscription in two lines written beneath it: HHHHCCCCCCC/HHHHCCCCCCC. The inscribed formulas have the position indicated in the papyrus, namely above 66  67 

Among these famous examples, a magnetite in the Museo Archeologico of Perugia (Figure 11),65 which was evidently See e.g. Philipp 1986, no. 41 (CBd no. 205). Gellius, Noctes Atticae 5.14, 15. Michel 2001a: 50-51, pl. 11, no. 75; see also Faraone 2013b: 334-335. 61  Compare e.g. the British Museum amulet published in Michel 2001a: 54, pl. 12, no. 82 (CBd no. 482): its motif clearly recalls classical finger rings such as that described in Boardman 2001²: 299, pl. 736. 62  Hom. Od. 8, 266-366. 63  See Bevilacqua 2002. 64  See Faraone 1999: 53-54. 65  Vitellozzi 2010: 419–420, no. 518. See also Vitellozzi, forthcoming. 58  59  60 

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The motif, rather than a narrative scene, seems to be a persuasive image based on the meaning of the Greek word for soul, ψυχή: the iconic force of the images, together with the power of words, was evidently thought to unleash the magical virtues of the stone. The obverse of the gem shows Aphrodite wearing a short dress and riding Psyche, who is flying with outstretched arms; Psyche is burnt from beneath by a torch-bearing Eros standing on a globe. This motif is almost unique in GraecoRoman art, since nowhere else we meet Aphrodite sitting astride an anthropomorphic figure: a good reason to suppose that such a device was invented by an expert engraver under the directions of a professional magician. This is evident if we look at the gesture that Aphrodite makes with her left hand, a philological rendition of the expression τῇ ἀριсτερᾷ χειρὶ κρατοῦсαν, τοὺс βοсτρύχουс ἀναδεсμευομένην (PGM IV.1725–1726). In fact, if we compare the gem with the text, we may read (with different punctuation) ‘τῇ ἀριсτερᾷ χειρὶ κρατοῦсαν τοὺс βοсτρύχουс, ἀναδεсμευομένην›, wherein τοὺс βοсτρύχουс can be an apo koinou construction. This emphasis on Aphrodite’s gesture is due to its persuasive function; the manual action of twisting curls reflects the magical ‘twisting’ of a soul mentioned in the procedure (line 1808: ἐπίсτρεψον τὴν ψυχὴν), and this is further evidence of the cooperation of words and images. This correspondence between gem and papyrus shows that the practitioners were open to experimentation inasmuch as they were forced to compete with one another; in this competition, the narrative language of Greek art could produce spectacular creations that could satisfy the taste of a wide, multi-cultural public.

Figure 12. Cambridge (MA). Harvard Art Museum (inv. no. TL38193.10). Jasper. Bound figure. Photograph: Christopher A. Faraone, reproduced by courtesy of the author. Also in these cases, popular Greek myths are revisited and adapted for persuasive narrations that shed new light on the original accounts, attempting to create new stories.

Another unique scene related to erotic curses is engraved on a green jasper formerly in the Sossidi collection (Figure 12):69 a long-haired female victim is suspended by her hands from a ring, being tortured by a bow-bearing Eros, while a winged lion burns her with a torch and an eagle feeds on her liver. The inscription on the back reads in part: ‘Burn with fire the woman who is associating [i.e. with me]’. Although this image has no direct parallels, Faraone rightly associates the scene with the punishment of Prometheus,70 and finds it probable that the creator of the gemstone knew a lost version of the story, in which the Titan was bound in this way.

In fact, what we observe at the end of this cursory overview is that the Greek tradition could find a significant place in the context that produced the so-called magical gems, by selecting and preserving those mythological episodes that had become familiar to a multi-cultural public. These myths went far beyond their earliest ritual context and often became popular folktales (historiolae), which spread across the Mediterranean not only for their innner anthropological meanings, but also because they were connected to daily life. Therefore, they were familiar also to the people who did not have a Greek heritage. Their success is due not only to the prestige that the Greek culture had all over the Roman empire, but also to the evocative force of Homeric poetry, as well as the narrative effectiveness of Greek artistic language. The images that the Greek artists had created had in themselves a power that, together with the force of words, was thought be able to change reality. In this light, magical gems can be regarded as a meaningful product of Greek art when it went beyond its borders to embrace many other cultures; also in this case, as Sir John Boardman has taught us in his studies, ‘gem engraving can be a very important contribution to our understanding of classical antiquity’.73

A similar treatment is received by the figure of a selfstrangling Phthonos on a chalcedony in the Cabinet des Médailles in Paris.71 Here, the grotesque personification of envy, who appears already in a famous painting by Apelles and belongs to a very old Hellenic tradition, is attacked by a snake coiled around his body, a bird pecking at his eyes and a scorpion close to his genitals: the scene is accompanied by the words ‘Bad luck to you, Phthonos!’.72 Aphrodite and below Eros: this probably means that each deity has his/her own λόγος expressing the divine essence (οὐσία). The meaning of AXMA[ΓE PAP]ΦEPMEI (αχμαγε ραρφερμει), associated with Aphrodite, is obscure, but we know more about the sequence of magical names related to Eros (See Vitellozzi 2010: 419–420, no. 518; Vitellozzi, forthcoming); the word αχαπα (ΠAKAΠAKA) is probably an onomatopoeia. 69  See Michel 2004: 266-267 with pl. 88.2. 70  Faraone 2013b: 338-341. 71  Mastrocinque 2014: 171, no. 467; see also Faraone 2018: 106-111. 72  Grk. Φθόνε ἀτύχι.

73 

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See Boardman 2001²: 13-18.

Paolo Vitellozzi – Greek Myth on Magical Gems: Survivals and Revivals

References

and Adams N. (eds.) ‘Gems of heaven’: Recent Research on Engraved Gemstones in Late Antiquity, AD 200-600 (British Museum Research Publications, 177): 50–61. London, British Museum Press. Faraone, C.A. 2012. Vanishing Acts on Ancient Greek Amulets: from Oral Performance to Visual Design, London: Institute of Classical Studies, School of Advanced Study University of London. Faraone, C.A. 2013a. Heraclean Labors on Ancient Greek Amulets: Myth into Magic or Magic into Myth?. In: Suárez de la Torre E. and Pérez Jiménez, A. (eds.) Mito y Magia en Grecia y Roma (Supplementa MHNH. Estudios de Astrología, Magia y Religión Antiguas, 1): 85–102. Barcelona: Libros Pórtico. Faraone, C.A. 2013b. Note on some Greek magical Gems in New England. In Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 53: 326-49. Faraone, C.A. 2016. Some Further Remarks on Greek Magical Gems. In: Szabó, Á. (ed.) From Politês to Magos (Hungarian Polis Studies, 22): 105-115. Budapest-Debrecen: University of Debrecen. Faraone, C.A. 2018. The Transformation of Greek Amulets in Roman Imperial Times. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Gordon, R. 2011. Archaeologies of magical gems. In: Entwistle, C. and Adams N. (eds.) ‘Gems of heaven’: Recent Research on Engraved Gemstones in Late Antiquity, AD 200-600 (British Museum Research Publications, 177): 39-49. London, British Museum Press. Griffiths, J.G., Barb, A.A. 1959. Seth or Anubis? In Journal of Warburg and Courtauld Institute 22: 367-371. Mastrocinque, A. 2003. Le gemme gnostiche. In: SGG I: 49–107. Mastrocinque, A. 2005. Die Zauberkünste der Aphrodite. Magische Gemmen auf dem Diadem der Liebesgöttin (Kyranis 1. 10). In: Ganschow, T. and Steinhart M. (eds. in Verbindung mit D.Berges und T. Fröhlich) Otium. Festschrift für Volker Michael Strocka: 223–231. Remshalden: Greiner. Mastrocinque, A. 2013. Perseus and Sabaoth in Magic Arts and Oriental Beliefs. In: Suárez de la Torre E. and Pérez Jiménez, A. (eds.) Mito y Magia en Grecia y Roma (Supplementa MHNH. Estudios de Astrología, Magia y Religión Antiguas, 1): 103–116. Barcelona: Libros Pórtico. Mastrocinque, A. 2014. Les intailles magiques du départment des Monnaies, Médailles et Antiques, Paris: Bibliothèque Nationale de France. Mastrocinque, A. 2015. Alphabetic Magic: Traces of a New Version of the Cyranides. In Bąkowska-Czerner, G., Roccat A. and Świerzowska A. (eds.): The Wisdom of Thoth. Magical Texts in Ancient Mediterranean Civilisations: 49-53. Oxford: Archaeopress. Mastrocinque, A. 2017. Invocations to Hermes and Aphrodite on two engraved gems in Leiden. In: Van den Bercken, B. and Baan, V. (eds.), Engraved Gems. From antiquity to the present (Papers on Archaeology of the Leiden Museum of Antiquities 14): 93-98. Leiden: Sidestone Press. Michel. S. 2001a. Die magischen Gemmen im Britischen Museum (Hrsg. von Peter und Hilde Zazoff), London: British Museum Press. Michel. S. 2001b. Bunte Steine - Dunkle Bilder. Magische Gemmen, München: Biering & Brinkmann. Michel, S. 2004. Die magischen Gemmen. Zu Bildern und Zauberformeln auf geschnittenen Steinen der Antike und Neuzeit, Berlin: Akademie Verlag. Nagy, Á.M. 2002. Gemmae magicae selectae. Sept notes sur l’interprétation des gemmes magiques. In: Mastrocinque,

Bevilacqua, G. 2002, Ares e Afrodite sulle gemme magiche. In: Mastrocinque, A. (ed.), Gemme gnostiche e cultura ellenistica. Atti del Convegno, Verona, 22–23 ottobre 1999: 13-25. Bologna: Pàtron. Boardman, J. 1963. Island Gems. A Study of Greek Seals in the Geometric and Early Archaic Period. London: Society for the Promotion of Hellenic Studies. Boardman, J. 1968. Archaic Greek Gems. London: Thames & Hudson. Boardman, J. 1997. Greek Seals. In D. Collon (ed.), 7000 Years of Seals. London: British Museum Press, 76-87. Boardman, J. 2001². Greek Gems and Finger Rings. Early Bronze Age to Late Classical. London: Thames & Hudson (2nd rev. edition). Boardman, J. 2003. Classical Phoenician Scarabs. A Catalogue and Study. Oxford: Archaeopress. Bonner, C. 1942. Aeolus Figured on Colic Amulets. In The Harvard Theological Review 35.2: 87-93. Bonner, C. 1950. Studies in Magical Amulets, chiefly GraecoEgyptian. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press (London: Oxford University Press). Brashear, W. 1995. The Greek Magical Papyri: an Introduction and Survey. Annotated Bibliography (1928–1994). In: Haase, W. (ed.), Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt II.18.5: 3380-3684. Berlin: De Gruyter. CBd The Campbell Bonner database: http://classics.mfab.hu/ talismans (seen 31.10.2017). Dasen, V. 2008. Le secret d’Omphale. In Revue Archéologique 2008/2.46: 265-281. Dasen, V., Nagy, Á. 2012. Le serpent léontocéphale Chnoubis et la magie de l’époque romaine impériale. In Barbara, S. and Trinquier, J. (eds.), Ophiaca. Diffusion et réception des savoirs antiques sur les Ophidiens (Anthropozoologica 47.1): 291–314. Dasen, V., Nagy, Á. 2018. Gemas mágicas antiguas. Estado de la cuestión. In: Perea Yébenes, S. and Tomás García, J. (eds.), Glyptós. Gemas y camafeos greco-romanos: arte, mitologías, creencias (Thema Mundi / 10). Madrid–Salamanca 2018, 139-178. Eitrem, S. 1950. Signa Imperii on an Amulet. In Harvard Theological Review 43: 173-177. Faraone, C.A. 1992. Talismans and Trojan Horses: Guardian Statues in Ancient Greek Myth and Ritual. Oxford–New York: Oxford University Press. Faraone, C.A. 1995. The Mystodokos and the Dark-Eyed Maidens: Multicultural Influences on a Late-Hellenistic Incantation. In Meyer, M. and Mirecki, P. (eds.) Ancient Magic and Ritual Power (Religions in the Graeco-Roman World 129): 297-333. Leiden: Brill. Faraone, C.A. 1999. Ancient Greek love magic. Cambridge MALondon: Harvard University Press. Faraone, C.A. 2009. Does Tantalus Drink the Blood, or Not?: An Enigmatic Series of Inscribed Hematite Gemstones. In Deli, U. and Walde, C. (eds.) Antike Mythen: Medien, Transformationen und Konstruktionen: 248-73. Berlin-New York: De Gruyter. Faraone, C.A. 2010. Notes on some Magical Amulets. In ZPE 173: 213-219. Faraone, C.A. 2011. Text, Image and Medium. The Evolution of Graeco-Roman Magical Gemstones. In: Entwistle, C.

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A. (ed.), Gemme gnostiche e cultura ellenistica. Atti del Convegno, Verona, 22–23 ottobre 1999: 153–179. Bologna: Pàtron. Nagy, Á.M. 2011. Magical Gems and Classical Archaeology. In: Entwistle, C. and Adams N. (eds.) ‘Gems of heaven’: Recent Research on Engraved Gemstones in Late Antiquity, AD 200600 (British Museum Research Publications, 177): 75-81. London, British Museum Press. Nagy, Á.M. 2012. Daktylios pharmakites. Magical healing gems and rings in the Graeco-Roman world. In: Csepregi, I. and Burnett, C. (eds.), Ritual Healing. Magic, Ritual and Medical Therapy from Antiquity until the Early Modern Period, (Micrologus’ Library 48): 71–106. Firenze: Edizioni del Galluzzo. Nagy, Á.M. 2015. Engineering Ancient Amulets: Magical Gems of the Roman Imperial Period. In Boschung, D. and Bremmer, J.N. (eds.) The Materiality of Magic (Morphomata 20): 205–240. Paderborn: Wilhelm Fink. Perea Yébenes, S. 2010a. Magic at Sea: Amulets for Navigation. In: Gordon, R.L. and Marco Simón, F. (eds.) Magical Practice in the Latin West: Papers from the International Conference held at the University of Zaragoza, 30 Sept.-1 Oct. 2005 (Religions in the Graeco-Roman World 168): 457-486. Leiden – Boston: Brill. Perea Yébenes, S. 2010b. Magia, amuletos y supersticiones de materia médica en el libro I de Kyranides. In ÁlvarezPedrosa Nuñez, J.A. and Torallas Tovar, S. (eds.) Edición de textos mágicos de la Antigüedad y de la Edad Media: 91-143. Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas. Perea Yébenes, S. 2014. Officium Magicum. Estudios de magia, teúrgia, necromancia, supersticiones, milagros y demonología en el mundo greco-romano. Madrid-Salamanca: Signifer Libros. PGM Preisendanz, K. (ed. 1928 and 1931), Papyri Graecae Magicae. Die griechischen Zauberpapyri I-II, Leipzig: 2nd edition by A. Henrichs (1973-1974). Stuttgart: Teubner Verlag.

Philipp, H. 1986. Mira et Magica, Gemmen im Ägyptischen Museum der Staatliche Museen, Preussischer Kulturbesitz, BerlinCharlottenburg. Mainz am Rhein: Philipp Von Zabern Verlag. Quack, Joachim F. forthcoming. Beiträge zu den ägyptischen Dekanen und ihrer Rezeption in der griechisch-römischen Welt. SGG I Mastrocinque, A. (ed. 2003), Sylloge Gemmarum Gnosticarum parte I (Bollettino di Numismatica, Monografia 8.2.I). Roma: Istituto Poligrafico e Zecca dello Stato. SGG II Mastrocinque, A. (ed. 2007), Sylloge Gemmarum Gnosticarum parte II (Bollettino di Numismatica, Monografia 8.2.II). Roma: Istituto Poligrafico e Zecca dello Stato. ThesCRA Thesaurus cultus et rituum antiquorum I-VI. Los Angeles 20042006: The J. Paul Getty Museum. Versnel, H.S. 2002. The Poetics of the Magical Charm. An Essay on the Power of Words. In Mirecki, P. and Meyer, M. (eds.) Magic and Ritual in the Ancient World (Religions in the Graeco-Roman World, 141): 105-158. Leiden: Brill. Vitellozzi, P. 2010. Gemme e Cammei della Collezione Guardabassi nel Museo Archeologico Nazionale dell’Umbria a Perugia. Perugia: Volumnia Editrice. Vitellozzi, P. 2018. Relations between Magical Texts and Magical Gems. Recent Perspectives. In: Kiyanrad, S., Willer, L. and Theis, C. (eds.), Bild un Schrift auf ‚magischen‛ Artefakten (Materiale Textkulturen 19): 181-253. BerlinBoston: De Gruyter. Vitellozzi, P. forthcoming. The sword of Dardanos: New Thoughts on a Magical Gem in Perugia. In: Endreffy, K., Nagy, Á.M. and Spier, J. (eds.), Magical gems in their context: forthcoming. Waegeman, M. 1987. Amulet and Alphabet. Magical amulets in the first book of Cyranides. Amsterdam: G.C. Gieben. Wagner, C., Boardman, J. 2003. A Collection of Classical and Eastern Intaglios, Rings and Cameos. Oxford: Archaeopress.

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From Routine to Reconstruction Susan Walker1 In1this brief paper I pay tribute to an uncharacteristically humdrum aspect of John Boardman’s work, dating from the late 1950s, when he was an Assistant Keeper at the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford.2 Museum curators spend much of their time performing the routine tasks of managing collections, and thus it happened that John Boardman registered in 1957 the long-term loan of a significant collection of late Roman gold-glass, bequeathed more than half a century earlier to Pusey House, Oxford by a remarkable 19th-century collector, Charles Wilshere.3 As a result of Boardman’s diligence, most notably in carefully describing and measuring every object, more than half a century later it has proved possible to reconstruct a considerable part of the Wilshere Collection’s chequered twentieth-century history by comparing his notes with earlier, partial lists of objects in the collection.4 Moreover it has been feasible to trace some items sold onto the London antiquities market by Pusey House in 2008.5 In this paper are published two fragments of engraved glass included in the 2008 sale, both of which were the subject of correspondence between John Boardman and Donald Harden (1904-1995), Keeper of Antiquities at the Ashmolean from 1945-1956 and the leading 20th century British authority on Roman glass.6 Charles Wilshere and His Collection Charles Wilshere (Figure 1) was born at Hitchin, Hertfordshire in February 1814. In 1868 he inherited from his elder brother William the family estate at The Frythe, Welwyn, where he lived with his family until his death at the age of 92 in 1906. Wilshere was well educated with a Cambridge degree and a legal apprenticeship. For much of his life he was passionately engaged with Christianity, most particularly with the then fashionable and politically sensitive Oxford Movement, which advocated a return to early Christian principles. The Oxford or Tractarian Movement sought to develop a form of English Catholicism, a move that proved unpopular with the reigning monarch Victoria, who perceived a threat to her position as defender of the established Protestant Church of England, with successive Prime Ministers and indeed with much of the population. They saw the Oxford Movement as an ally of the so-called Papal Aggressions, a provocative and illegal interference in the English Church spearheaded by Pope Pius IX.7

Figure 1. Charles Wilshere, drawn by Samuel Lucas in 1857. After Gordon Longmead 2006 and Walker 2017: 22, Fig. 5. Photo: © Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford. Wilshere never converted to Catholicism, most likely because such a move would have undermined his prominent position in local public life. Instead, in mid-life Wilshere developed a personal mission to acquaint the British public with objects representing early Christian life and its Jewish roots. A wealthy man whose family had been landowners in southeast England since Tudor times, he spent much time abroad, especially in Italy and Germany, where his English wife had been born and her sister still resided. In Rome, which was something of a collector’s paradise in the 1860s according to another distinguished collector, Count Michal Tyskiewicz,8 Wilshere was able to build a remarkable collection of early Christian gold-glass, important sarcophagi and a significant number of Jewish and Christian epitaphs from cemeteries in Rome and southern Italy. Illustrated here are two of the finest gold-glasses bought by Wilshere from the sale in 1862 to his principal Roman agent Vincenzo Capobianchi of the

Ashmolean Museum and Wolfson College, University of Oxford. John Boardman served as Assistant Keeper in the Department of Antiquities from 1956-1959, during the keepership of Robert Hamilton. 3  Walker 2017. 4  Walker 2017: 43 – 45 with Appendix 1. 5  Christie’s London, sale no. 7659, October 13th 2008, lot 56. See Walker 2017: Appendix 1. 6  I am grateful to Malcolm Hay, the current owner of the fragments, for permission to publish them. 7  Walker 2017: 21; on the Papal Aggressions, see Wallis 1993; on the Oxford Movement see Strong and Herringer 2012 and Brown and Nockles 2012.

1  2 

8 

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Tyskiewicz 1898: 37-38 and 54-55, reproduced in Walker 2017: 32.

Greek Art in Motion. Studies in honour of Sir John Boardman ​on the occasion of his 90th birthday

Figure 2. Base of an oval glass dish decorated with gold-leaf portraits of a couple and scenes of salvation from the Bible. Ashmolean Museum AN2007.13, Walker 2017: 131-133, Cat.3. Photo: © Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford. 18th-century collection formed in Rome by the exiled Baron Alessandro Recupero of Alminusa and Catania, Sicily.9 The base of a large oval dish (Figure 2) features the portraits of a couple invited to ‘Drink! Live!’ in a Greek toast transliterated into Latin.10 They are surrounded by scenes of salvation from the Bible, stories from the Old and New Testaments that formed part of the commendatio animae, a prayer for the salvation of the soul of the deceased; this glass dates to the middle decades of the fourth century.11 A unique gold-glass (Figure 3) from the later 4th century shows Christ as teacher with Peter, Paul, four saints and other attendants.12 From the Paravicini estate behind the pyramidal tomb of Caius Cestius

in central Rome comes the front of a sarcophagus (Figure 4). Also of the Theodosian period and still bearing the traces of a preparatory layer for gilding, the figures depict with two saints, most likely Peter and Paul, by the late fourth century the patron saints of the city of Rome.13 From the Jewish catacombs of the Vigna Randanini, located just to the south of Rome at the junction of the Via Appia Antica and the Via Appia Pignatelli, comes the well-known epitaph of Alexander (Figure 5), often characterised by modern scholars as a sausage-seller but more likely a purveyor of kosher meat to his synagogue in Rome, perhaps in the AD 370s.14 Thirty-six gold-glasses, a silver spoon, a votive relief, six sarcophagi and a funerary urn, and 15 epitaphs on stone form the core of Wilshere’s collection.15

Walker 2017: 59-62. Walker 2017: 131-133, Cat. 3; Elsner, Lenk et al., 2017: 60, no.41. On linguistic code-switching in late antique Rome, see Walker 2017: 97 and Adams 2003: 407 with n.106. 11  Leatherbury in Walker 2017: 113-115, fig.58. 12  Walker 2017: 158-159, Cat.22; Rini in Walker 2017: 59-61 with fig. 28 and Leatherbury in Walker 2017: 117-118. 9 

10 

Walker 2017: 182-183, Cat.41; Elsner, Lenk et al., 2017: 62-63, no.44. Walker 2017: 190-191, Cat. 48. On the sale to Wilshere, see Walker 2017:. 62-65. On the Vigna Randanini catacombs see Dello Russo 2011, 2012. 15  Walker 2017: Appendix 1. 13  14 

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Figure 3. Base of a shallow glass bowl: Christ as teacher with saints Peter, Paul, Timotheus, Sixtus, Simon and Florus. Ashmolean Museum AN2007.11, Walker 2017: 158-159, Cat.22. Photo: © Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford. From the mid-1860s to his correspondent’s death in 1894, Wilshere corresponded in fluent if not always grammatical Italian with the Vatican’s leading archaeologist, Commendatore Giovanni Battista de Rossi, still today regarded as the distinguished founding father of early Christian art history and archaeology.16 Sixty-nine letters from Wilshere to de Rossi are kept in the archives of the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, and another eleven to the industrious but less personally agreeable Jesuit archaeologist Raffaele Garrucci are to be found in the library of San Luigi in Posilippo.17 These letters, covering a period of 29 years, have transformed our understanding of Wilshere’s motives, his personal networks, his shopping habits and the history of acquisition of the collection. The letters are very focused on the collection and

on academic matters; however, correspondence between de Rossi and his superiors, and with his English translators, Wilshere’s friends J. S. Northcote and R. W. Brownlow, offer a wider sense of the powerful currents of history flowing behind this narrative, notably the effects of the anti-clerical Risorgimento and the collapse of the Bourbon monarchy, which made so many aristocratic and clerical collections in Rome and southern Italy available to the market.18 The Wilshere Collection in the United Kingdom From a hastily scribbled note to the distinguished collector C.D.E. Fortnum discovered in 2012 in the Sackler Library, Oxford, it is clear that Wilshere had the Recupero goldglass shipped directly in the diplomatic bag from the British Embassy in Florence, then the capital of Italy, to the South Kensington Museum, predecessor of the Victoria and Albert.

Parise 1991. I am grateful to Dr Marco Buonocore, Head Librarian, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, for access to Wilshere’s letters to de Rossi, which are not fully published. See Walker 2017: 26-29 and 37-38. 16  17 

18 

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Walker 2017: 38-40, 28 and 49-50.

Greek Art in Motion. Studies in honour of Sir John Boardman ​on the occasion of his 90th birthday

Figure 4. Front of a marble sarcophagus: Christ with saints Peter and Paul. Ashmolean Museum AN2007.11, Walker 2017: 182-183, Cat.41. Photo: © Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford.

Figure 5. Funerary inscription of Alexander. Ashmolean Museum AN2007.51, Walker 2017: 190-191, Cat.48. Photo: © Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford.

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Here it remained on public display for 29 years, with a brief sojourn to Leeds for the National Exhibition of the Finest Art in England, held in 1868.19 Wilshere evidently got on well with the South Kensington Museum’s entrepreneurial and energetic director Henry Cole, a man of similar character and drive, who noted in 1865 a great opportunity to define the character of the museum with such loans and acquisitions:

Ashmolean, where John Boardman dealt with the registration and related correspondence. Sadly the seven velvet-lined cases mentioned in Boardman’s handwritten list (Figure 6) do not appear to have been kept or photographed. However, Boardman’s systematic recording of principal dimensions has permitted the identification of small fragments of goldglass not among the principal pieces transferred in the cases.

‘It was found that the British Museum rejected all the Artobjects which were not before the Christian era; so that there seemed to be something like a logical reason for taking charge [at South Kensington] of Art-objects after the Christian era. Accordingly a collection by various good fortune had been made.’20

Donald Harden, by then Director of the London Museum, pointed out in a letter to Robert Hamilton of February 16th 1958 that an important gold-glass had been left in Pusey House. From Harden’s excellent sketch (Figure 7a) it is immediately recognisable as the base of a chalice dedicated to an individual named Heraclides (Figure 7b-c), which had been unaccountably omitted from Webster’s inventory, even though it appears on a list of small objects at The Frythe compiled for Wilshere in 1893. Indeed, it is clear from Wilshere’s correspondence with de Rossi that he purchased the chalice in Rome in 1870.24 Webster’s omission is the likely reason for the failure to transfer the piece with the rest of the Wilshere gold-glass. The glass was promptly transferred by John Boardman to the Ashmolean, where it remains on permanent display in the Mediterranean Gallery.25 Recent chemical examination reveals that this glass was decoloured in its raw state with antimony.26 It is thus most likely the earliest of Wilshere’s late Roman collection, probably dating to the early fourth century AD and not necessarily Christian.

In 1895 the 81-year-old Wilshere formulated a Deed of Trust willing the collection to Pusey House, named after the late visionary theologian Edward Bouverie Pusey; the institution was then planning a seminary.21 In this document Wilshere stipulated that the collection was to remain in Oxford and accessible to students. By that year the Recupero glass had been moved from London to Keble College, like Pusey House a centre of high Anglicanism. The collection was only united at Pusey House in 1925, 19 years after Wilshere’s death. Here it was inventoried and partially published by T.B.L. Webster, later to become hugely distinguished for his work on Greek drama and its representation. Then a student, and most likely at John Beazley’s instigation, Webster was instructed to record objects from this very different subject area to gain cataloguing experience and the chance of a publication.22 Thus in 1929 Webster published some of the more significant pieces but not the whole inventory of 105 items; he also published the first photographs of the most important goldglasses. Even so, the inventory is incomplete, and the typed list, now held in the Wilshere archive of the Department of Antiquities in the Ashmolean Museum, is not headed or signed, nor is it dated: it is therefore unclear whether the surviving document was Webster’s work or a later tidying of a now lost manuscript. Nor is it certain whether everything included on the list was Wilshere’s, though the text of the published article suggests it was. There is no use in Webster’s article of any correspondence to Wilshere, who remained personally unexamined, his letters from de Rossi and others apparently lost. Webster’s evident interest in iconography triumphed over his diligence in systematically measuring the objects, an omission later made good by John Boardman.

Boardman also requested the transfer of two fragments of engraved glass, which he took to come from a single bowl, perhaps following Webster’s entry no.45, recording a piece of glass vessel with marks. These were intended for comparison with the recently acquired Wint Hill bowl in the Ashmolean’s permanent collection, though in the event no reference was made to either of them in Harden’s subsequent publication of the Wint Hill bowl, which was cut in a different technique.27 As they were apparently not required for study, the fragments were subsequently returned to Pusey House at an unknown date, probably after Boardman had left the museum.28 With no evidence of any Christian content, they were among several ‘minor’ items from the Wilshere Collection sold by the Director and Trustees of Pusey House at Christie’s in 2008; no.2 below is illustrated in the photograph accompanying the sale catalogue entry.29 With the cooperation of Christie’s and various dealers and collectors it has proved possible to track the location of many of the objects, now scattered in London, Brussels, Paris and New York. Both fragments of engraved glass are now in London, in the possession of Malcolm Hay, and are described below.

Following mounting demands in the 1950s from the Vatican for photographs of the collection for Charles Morey’s posthumously published corpus of gold-glass in the Vatican Museum and other collections,23 the Wilshere gold-glass was transferred from Pusey House on long-term loan to the

Walker 2017: 128-129, Cat.1 with 128, n. 2 for the purchase, and Appendix 1, p.219 for the record in the inventory of September 4th, 1893. 25  Boardman to Father Catling, then Principal of Pusey House, and to Donald Harden, February 17th 1958. 26  Walker 2017: 224, Appendix 4a. 27  The request did not come from Harden himself as mistakenly stated in Walker 2017: 209, Appendix 1. For the Wint Hill bowl, see Harden 1960. 28  The request and transfer to the Ashmolean are documented in departmental correspondence, but there is no surviving record of the return to Pusey House. 29  See above, n.4. 24 

The note was found in 2012 by the present author. It was tucked into an offprint of an article by Garrucci, held by the Sackler Library and is now in the Wilshere archive of the Department of Antiquities, Ashmolean Museum. See Walker 2017: 40, fig.16. For the exhibition in Leeds see Walker 2017: Appendix 2. 20  Bonython and Burton 2003: 132, an unsourced quote from Henry Cole. 21  A copy of the Deed of Trust is transcribed in Walker 2017: Appendix 3. 22  Webster 1929; Walker 2017: Appendix 1. 23  Morey 1959. 19 

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Figure 6. Page 2 of John Boardman’s registration list of the loan of gold-glass to the Ashmolean Museum, June 1957. Wilshere Archive, Department of Antiquities, Ashmolean Museum. Photo: © Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford.

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a Figure 7. (a) Donald Harden’s letter of February 16th, 1958 to R.W.Hamilton, Wilshere Archive, Department of Antiquities, Ashmolean Museum with (b) a drawing by Yvonne Beadnell (2012) and (c) a photograph by David Gowers (2013) of AN2007.37, Walker 2017: 128-129, Cat. No.1. Photos 7(a) and (c): © Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford; photo 7(b), © Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford and Yvonne Beadnell.

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b

c Figure 7. (a) Donald Harden’s letter of February 16th, 1958 to R.W.Hamilton, Wilshere Archive, Department of Antiquities, Ashmolean Museum with (b) a drawing by Yvonne Beadnell (2012) and (c) a photograph by David Gowers (2013) of AN2007.37, Walker 2017: 128-129, Cat. No.1. Photos 7(a) and (c): © Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford; photo 7(b), © Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford and Yvonne Beadnell.

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Figure 8. Fragment of an engraved glass bowl: a fishing scene (photograph by David Gowers, 2018, courtesy of Malcolm Hay).

Two Fragments of Late Roman Engraved Glass from the Wilshere Collection

fish swimming upwards towards the boat. Immediately to the right appears another fish swimming towards the first; the form of its surviving head suggests a flat fish. The type of net described above suggests that the scene was set by the shore or in a delta landscape, in shallow navigable waters where fish could be caught from a canoe or by standing or crouching on the shoreline.

Part of a Translucent, Colourless Glass Tray or Plaque: Scenes of Fishing (Figure 8). 4.5 cm high x 3.4cm wide x 0.25cm thick. The right edge appears sawn or carefully cut, while the other edges are irregularly broken.30 Some tiny deposits of soil are visible on the engraved surface. Provenance and date of acquisition by Wilshere unknown.

Similar scenes of fishing set in a landscape resembling the Nile Delta are known from finds of late antique engraved and polished glass from Rome. Although the scenes on a platter from the Caelian Hill have been interpreted as individual vignettes lacking a continuous narrative, they do appear to offer a sense of contact, even competition between the fishermen and they include a vignette of weighing the catch for sale, both features suggesting a single, unfolding narrative.32 Of particular relevance to the Wilshere fragment is a small, hemispherical cup of colourless glass said to have been found in the catacombs and now in the collections of the Musei Vaticani.33 Most closely comparable, in terms not only of the presence of the bag-shaped net but also the likely history of the engraved glass fragment in late antiquity, is a fragmentary gold-glass also in the Wilshere collection, an inscribed piece of inlay or a tray cut down and repurposed from a larger composition.34

The fragment is flat, and more than twice the thickness of no.2. The underside is carefully polished. It is therefore likely to have belonged to a plaque of colourless, transparent and lightly bubbled glass. The surviving fragment shows part of a fishing scene. Preserved at the top is most probably part of a canoe-like boat of shallow draft, with three vertical strokes appearing just below the upper edge indicating bands of decoration; it probably had high, curved ends, which are now lost. Immediately to the right is most likely the lower part of the blade of an oar. Below to the right are the outer ends of a bagshaped net suspended from rods that would have been hinged to open (as shown here) and close around a captured fish..31 To the left of the net are two fish: at the left edge of the fragment are the head, frontal fins and antenna of a carefully observed

The decoration of the engraved fragment includes finely incised, curved outlines; calligraphic, lightly scratched details Saguí 1996: 338. MS Inv. 155 = de Rossi 255. Hayes Jr., 1928; Fremersdorf 1975: 86 no.826 with pls. 46a-d and 47e-g; Saguí 1996: 347, fig.8. See also de Rossi 1868: 36, where no provenance is given. 34  See n.40 above. 32 

On glass vessels deliberately cut in late antiquity, possibly for retention as heirlooms, see Price 2015 and Walker 2017:cat.no.11. 31  Compare the gold-glass fragment in the Wilshere Collection, AN2007.23,Walker 2017: 149-150, Cat.16. 30 

33 

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Figure 9. Fragment of an engraved glass bowl: a dancing Maenad (photograph by David Gowers, 2018, courtesy of Malcolm Hay). of netting, fish-eyes and scales, and abraded, wheel-cut fins, barbs and rods of the net, a technique also used to convey detail on the side of the boat, tackle or fish.

The surviving delineation of the figure lacks any curved lines. The decoration was lightly wheel-cut and abraded within the outlines of the figure.38 The decorative abraded surface is particularly clearly seen in the ribbons of the staff held by the dancer. Since Fremersdorf ’s definition of the use of such techniques as characteristic of a group of diatretarii (engravers) based in early fourth-century Cologne, the workshop has been considerably enlarged, geographically and chronologically, by recent excavation and study.39 The Wilshere fragment lacks the dancer’s head, where one would expect to see the characteristic massed grooves of hair and a lozenge-shaped eye.40 Nonetheless the fragment includes the extended proper right arm and hand, the bent lower left arm and hand and much of the torso of a female figure, with all limbs outstretched to dance. A taenia (cloth band) falls over the right forearm; the hand is splayed palm up for dramatic effect. The dancer wears a belted peplos decorated with vertical lines, perhaps representing pleats; the lower part of the skirt, which was probably slit to allow free movement of the legs, is lost along with the feet. A horizontal striped panel centrally set below the waist might have been part of the dress, which is often shown with lines moving in varied directions.41 Across it passes the slender pole of an elongated staff, perhaps a Bacchic thyrsus held by the dancer in her left hand, the arm bent behind her at the elbow. The broken lines of the staff are not an iconographical feature but reflect the restricted length of cut allowed by use of the wheel.42 The staff is held upside down; a ribbon tied around it appears at the back of the dancer.

The style of engraving of both iconographically comparable incised vessels and the gold-glass tray or inlay has been dated to the middle or later years of the fourth century AD.35 However, the technical features of the engraved fragment in the Wilshere Collection are dissimilar to fourth-century work, recalling instead groups of engraved glass dated to the third century AD. These include the Lynceus Group and the Nilometer Cup, both widely dated to the early third century AD, and a series of more impressionistic engraved glass vessels, which share a similarity of technique but encompass a broader iconographical range than the mythological narratives of the Lynceus Group: these have been dated to the later third century.36 From the published drawing, a fragmentary engraved glass depicting fish from Larciano, near Pistoia looks particularly close to the technique of the Wilshere fragment.37 It is likely, then, that the latter comes from a vessel or inlay made in the mid-later third century AD. In later antiquity the fragment was perhaps cut down and kept as an heirloom, or repurposed in the manner of Wilshere’s gold-glass fragment, though in this case it was impossible or unintended to reflect Christian usage of images of fish by retaining two fish swimming in opposing directions. A Fragment of a Translucent, Colourless Glass Bowl: Dancing Maenad

This fragment is evidently part of a vessel, most likely a shallow bowl, engraved with a scene of Bacchic dancers. In technique and theme, if not precise iconographical detail, it resembles a well-preserved bowl from Amiens, northern France, one of a group of six engraved glass vessels most

(Figure 9). 7.6 cm wide x 2.0 cm high x 0.11 cm thick; broken on all sides. A chip is lost from the upper left corner. Provenance and date of acquisition by Wilshere unknown.

‘schwach eingetiefte Umrisslinien und gerauchte Innenfläche’: Fremersdorf 1967: 171. 39  Sagui 1993: 190; Price 2014: 147. 40  Price 2014: 147. The head is particularly well seen on a shallow bowl excavated at Fiesole: Sarri 1990: pl.72. 41  Sarri 1990: 302 with pls.72-73. 42  Price 2010: 42-3. 38 

Fremersdorf 1975: 86 for the hemispherical cup; Saguí 1993, 1996 for the platter from the Caelian Hill; Walker 2017: 94-96 for sequential dating of groups of gold-glass. 36  Harden 1987: 198-9, no. 108 (Lynceus Cup); 200, no.109 (Nilometer cup); Paolucci 1997: 41. 37  De Tommaso 1994: 262, Fig.1. 35 

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likely from the same cemetery, if not a single tomb.43 Now in the collections of the British Museum, these vessels were purchased by the distinguished prehistorian Sir John Evans, father of the even more famous Arthur and himself a major figure in the Ashmolean’s collecting history.44 The Wilshere fragment is not cited in publications of the Amiens group by Harden or Kenneth Painter.45 A similar hemispherical bowl to the Amiens example was excavated on the site of a late Roman town house at Colliton Park, Dorset.46 Though many finds are reported from the north-west provinces of the Roman empire, about one-third of more than one hundred known vessels with wheel-cut, figured decoration are known from Rome, which is now thought to be the location of the principal workshops, operating for much of the fourth century AD, with depositions in graves and settlements continuing into the early fifth century.47

Dello Russo, J., 2011. The Discovery and Exploration of the Jewish Catacomb of the Vigna Randanini in Rome: Records, Research and Excavations through 1895. Roma Subterranea Judaica 5. Boston, International Catacomb Society. Dello Russo, J., 2012: Raffaele Garrucci and the Jewish Catacombs. Roma Subterranea Judaica 6. Boston, International Catacomb Society. Elsner, J., S. Lenk et al., 2017. Imagining the Divine. Oxford: Ashmolean Museum. Fremersdorf, F., 1967. Die römische Gläser mit Schliff, Bemalung und Goldauflagen aus Köln. Die Denkmäler des römischen Köln 8. Cologne: Verlag der Löwe, H. Reykers. Fremersdorf, F., 1975. Antikes, islamisches und mittelaltliches Glas sowie kleinere Arbeiten aus Stein, Gagat und verwandten Stoffen in den vatikanischen Sammlungen. Vatican City: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana. Harden, D.B., 1960. The Wint Hill Hunting Bowl and Related Glasses. Journal of Glass Studies 2: 44-81. Harden, D.B., 1978. Roman and Frankish glass from France in the British Museum. In Actes du Colloque International d’Archéologie, Centenaire de l’Abbé Cochet: 301-312. Rouen: Musée départemental des antiquités de Seine-Maritime et la Circonscription des antiquités historiques de HauteNormandie. Harden, D.B. (ed.), 1987. Glass of the Caesars. London: British Museum. Harden, D.B., K.S. Painter, R.H. Pinder-Wilson and H. Tait, 1968. Masterpieces of Glass, London: British Museum. Hayes Jr., W.C., 1928. An Engraved Glass Bowl in the Museo Cristiano of the Vatican Library. In AJA XXXII: 23-32. Leatherbury, S.V., 2017. Picturing prayers: the iconography of the Wilshere gold-glasses. In S. Walker (ed.) Saints and Salvation: the Wilshere Collection of gold-glass, sarcophagi and inscriptions from Rome and Southern Italy: 113-125. Oxford: Ashmolean Museum. MacGregor, A. (ed.), 2008. Sir John Evans (1823-1908). Antiquity, Commerce and Natural Science in the Age of Darwin. Oxford: Ashmolean Museum. Morey, C.R., posthumously edited by G. Ferrari, 1959. The Gold-Glass Collection of the Vatican Library with additional collections of other gold-glass collections. Vatican City: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana. Painter, K.S., 1971. Six Roman Glasses with Cut Decoration from Amiens. In British Museum Quarterly 36, 1/2: 41-50. Paolucci, F., 1997. I vetri incise dall’Italia settentrionale e dalla Rezia nel periodo medio e tardo imperiale. Florence: All’insegno di Giglio. Parise, N., 1991. Giovanni Battista de Rossi. At http://www. treccani.it/enciclopedia/de-rossi-giovanni-battista_ (Dizionario-Biografico)/, from Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani 39. Price, J., 2010. Late Roman glass vessels in the Hadrian’s Wall frontier region. In R. Collins and L. Allason-Jones (ed.), Finds from the frontier. Material Culture in the 4th-5th centuries: 37-49. CBA Research Report 162. York. Price, J., 2014. No. 4.7.10. Hemispherical, figured, wheel-cut bowl decorated with Bacchic scene. In E. Durham and M. Fulford (ed.) A Late Roman Town House and its Environs. The Excavations of C.D.Drew and K.C.Collingwood Selby in Colliton Park, Dorchester, Dorset, 1937-8. 144-150. Britannia Monograph Series 26. London: Society for the Promotion of Roman Studies.

Conclusion Though lacking archaeological context and collection history, the two fragments of engraved glass described here are of significance to our understanding of the development of the genre in the third and fourth centuries AD. It is hoped to publish other minor objects from the Wilshere Collection, whether sold in 2008, still remaining in Pusey House or in the reserve collections of the Ashmolean Museum, with an on-line addendum to the 2017 catalogue of the principal collection. However, it is unlikely that we shall ever know the full extent of Charles Wilshere’s collection, unless a full inventory emerges that had been compiled during his lifetime. The lessons of the recent history of the Wilshere Collection are then to catalogue collections within the lifetime of the collector, and to leave collections intact to institutions or individuals most likely to offer a lasting interest in their integrity and their long-term care. Meanwhile I warmly congratulate John Boardman, not only on reaching this major milestone in his life but also on his crucial role in supporting the reconstruction of the remarkable Wilshere Collection some sixty years after he carried out his routine curatorial tasks. Bibliography Adams, J.N., 2003. Bilingualism and the Latin Language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bonython, E. and Burton, A., 2003. The Great Exhibitor: the Life and Work of Henry Cole. London: Victoria and Albert Museum. Brown, S.J. and Nockles, P.B., 2012. The Oxford Movement: Europe and the wider world 1830-1930. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. De Rossi, G.B., 1868. Dei vetri adorni di figure intagliate ad incavo. Part III of Utensili cristiani scoperti in Porto. In Bullettino di Archeologia Cristiana VI, no.3 (May-June): 35-37. De Tommaso, G., 1994. Vetri incise dalla Tuscia annonaria. Note sulla produzione di vetri incise tra III e IV secolo. In ArchCl. XLVI: 261-278. Bowl: BM GR 1886,0512.3. For the group and its acquisition, see Harden 1978: 305. 44  MacGregor et al., 2008: 138. 45  Harden, Painter, Pinder-Wilson and Tait 1968: 75, no. 96; Painter 1971; Harden 1978; Harden 1987: 230-1, no.139. 46  Price 2014. 47  Price 2010: 42-3; 2014: 147-148. 43 

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Price, J., 2015. Bowls in two halves, a curious feature of some late Roman tableware. Journal of Glass Studies 57: 41-46. Rini, D., 2017. Tracking the history of Alessandro Recupero’s gold-glass: drawings from Gaetano Marini’s Inscriptiones Christianae. In Walker (ed.), Saints and Salvation: the Wilshere Collection of gold-glass, sarcophagi and inscriptions from Rome and Southern Italy: 53-61. Oxford: Ashmolean Museum. Saguí L., 1993. Verreries de l’antiquité tardive et du haut moyen age d’après les fouilles de Rome, Crypta Balbi. Annales du 12e Congrès de l’Association Internationale pour l’Histoire du Verre (Vienne-Wein 1991): 187-196. Amsterdam: Association Internationale pour l’Histoire du Verre. Saguí, L., 1996. Un piatto di vetro inciso da Roma: contributo ad un inquadramento delle officine vetrarie tardoantiche. In M. G. Picozzi and F.Carinci (ed.), Vicino oriente, Egeo, Grecia, Roma e mondo romano. Tradizione

dell’antico e collezionismo di antichità. Studi in memoria di Lucia Guerrini. . Studi Miscellanei 30: 337-358. Rome: L’Erma di Bretschneider. Sarri, S., 1990. Vetri. In de Marinis, G (ed.,), Archeologia Urbana a Fiesole. Lo scavo di Via Marini- Via Portigiani. Florence: Giunti. Strong, R. and Herringer, C.E., 2012. Edward Bouverie Pusey and the Oxford Movement. London: Anthem. Tyskiewicz, M., 1898. Memories of an Old Collector, translated by Mrs Andrew Lang. London: Lond. Walker, S. (ed.), 2017. Saints and Salvation: the Wilshere Collection of gold-glass, sarcophagi and inscriptions from Rome and Southern Italy. Oxford: Ashmolean Museum. Wallis, F.W., 1993. Popular Anti-Catholicism in Mid-Victorian Britain. Lampeter: Mellen. Webster, T.B.L., 1929. The Wilshere Collection at Pusey House in Oxford. In Journal of Roman Studies 19: 150-154.

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The Database of the Iberia Graeca Centre Xavier Aquilué,1 Paloma Cabrera2 and Pol Carreras1 The Objectives12 The Iberia Graeca Centre (CIG) is an organisation that has been created by the Spanish Ministry of Culture and the Ministry of Culture of the Generalitat of Catalonia (Official State Gazette–BOE. 56 of 6/3/2007) to develop projects on research, documentation, conservation and the dissemination of the Greek archaeological heritage of the Iberian Peninsula. The objectives of the Centre are: i. To create and maintain a website (www. iberiagraeca.org) in which to make available all the information offered by archaeology concerning the Greek material culture of the Iberian Peninsula. The Database presents the various objects that were part of Greek commerce (ceramics, coins, inscriptions, sculptures, architectural features, etc.) with their corresponding record, graphic image and origin, with the aim of being able to help with research its dissemination on the Internet. The website also shares information about new Greek finds in the Iberian Peninsula, in particular the museums, collections and archaeological sites, as well as about scientific publications related to the Peninsula’s Greek cultural heritage. ii. To develop its own research projects which will help increase knowledge about the Greek cultural presence and its interaction with the Iberian Peninsula societies in classical times.

Figure 1. The headquarters of Iberia Graeca Centre in the Palaiapolis of Emporion (Sant Martí d’Empúries, l’Escala, Girona) (Photo: X. Aquilué, CIG). iii. To promote research projects in Spain dealing with Greek Mediterranean archaeology, setting up cultural collaborations with the Girona, run by L’Escala Town Council, which is also part diverse scientific institutions and universities that develop of the CIG (Figure 1). This modernist style building was this line of research. constructed in 1910 and is found on the original settlement of the Greek city of Emporion: the Palaiapolis (Figure 2). Emporion was founded at the beginning of the 6th century iv. To train young researchers in the field of Greek archaeology BC by Phocaean-Massalian traders and is the westernmost and to involve them in the various documentation and Greek colony documented in the Mediterranean (Figure 3). research projects of the Centre. The Iberia Graeca Centre is administered by a Governing Board made up of representatives of the Spanish Ministry of Culture, the Ministry of Culture of the Generalitat of Catalonia and of L’Escala Town Council. Its activities are coordinated by the National Archaeological Museum and by the Archaeology Museum of Catalonia and it has a Scientific Committee made up of various researchers of recognised prestige in the field of Greek peninsular archaeology.

v. To design a programme of cultural and social dissemination of the Greek common legacy in the Mediterranean, as an element of cohesion for the Mediterranean cultural identity. The headquarters of Iberia Graeca are in the Casa de los Forestales building in Sant Martí d’Empúries, L’Escala, 1  2 

Centre Iberia Graeca-Museu d’Arqueologia de Catalunya. Centro Iberia Graeca-Museo Arqueológico Nacional.

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Figure 2. View of the urban centre of Sant Martí d’Empuries, the first founding Greek settlement of Emporion: the Palaiapolis or the ‘Ancient City’ (Photo: M. Bataller, CIG).

Figure 3. General view of the sector of the Neápolis (the second settelemet of the Greek city of Emporion) to the suth of the sector of the Palaiapolis and old port (Photo: M. Bataller, CIG).

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The CIG has also established several collaboration agreements with the Institut Català d’Arqueologia Clàssica (since 2011), the Departamento de Historia y Teoría del Arte of the Universidad Autónoma de Madrid (since 2012); the Instituto Cervantes de Atenas (since 2012); the Museo Arqueológico de Burriana (since 2013); the Sociedad de Estudios de la cerámica antigua en Hispania (since 2014); the Departament de Prehistòria i Arqueologia of the Universitat de València (since 2015) and the Departamento de Ciências e Técnicas do Património of the Universidade do Porto (since 2016).

Currently the Database has 7,816 record cards of pottery, from 1,572 archeological contexts of the 414 archeological sites (Andalucía: Almería, Cádiz, Córdoba, Granada, Huelva, Jaén, Málaga and Sevilla; Aragón: Huesca and Teruel); Castilla la Mancha: Albacete, Ciudad Real, Cuenca, Guadalajara and Toledo; Catalunya: Barcelona, Girona, Lleida and Tarragona; Extremadura: Badajoz and Cáceres); Murcia; Comunitat Valenciana: Alacant, Castelló and València; Illes Balears: Eivissa and Mallorca; and Portugal: Alentejo, Algarve, Centro and Norte), and 9,144 images and 1,104 publications referenced. All the information of the IGC works with search engines. The Database only contains archaeological material we know comes from a specific site in the Peninsula. In other words, pieces we know they have a proven origin. Materials of unknown provenance are not included in the Database. This is one of the facts that makes a difference between our Database and other similar ones.

The Website The website consists of eleven sections: Introduction, Objectives, Organization, Headquarters, Collaborating Institutions, Database, Museums and Collections, Archaeological Sites, Bibliography, Publications and News. The main section is the Database, but in relation to the documentation and the dissemination of the Greek archaeological heritage the following sections are also important.

The next menu has three options: direct access to the search engine, access to the contact section that allows you to place questions and make contributions and the section ‘documentalists’ where you can see a list of people that have created entries for the Database. There are documentalists from different collaborating institutions of the Iberian Peninsula and from various Greek Universities (through the Erasmus Placement Program) as well.

Museums and Collections: It lists cultural facilities (59 museums and collections) open to the public where a part of the Greek archaeological materials that form the Database of Iberia Graeca are displayed. Each institution has its own link to its webpage where information related to it can be found. Archaeological Sites: It lists the 36 archaeological sites in the Iberian Peninsula where Greek archaeological materials have been found, some of which form the Database of Iberia Graeca. During the selection of these archaeological sites a management structure that facilitates the research, conservation and public dissemination has been taken into account. The link to the webpage of the managing body of each archaeological site is provided.

Once you are at the search engine you have access to the menu that allows you to search by different fields: entry number, museum or collection, inventory number, provenance, entries with images, timeframe or specific publication. It is possible to combine these different fields in order to narrow the search (Figure 4). Above the simple search engine you can have access to the advanced search. This search engine allows us to look for any field related to the provenance, the technique, style, shape, author or workshop, signature or stamp....(Figures 5 and 6).

Bibliography: One of the objectives of the Iberia Graeca Centre is to create a bibliographical database that includes all the publications concerning the material documents demonstrating the trade and presence of the Greeks in the Iberian Peninsula, as well as other fundamental studies regarding the Greek colonisation of the Mediterranean. Currently, it has 1,104 bibliographic references, of wich 470 have their link included to facilitate their digital consultation.

In the section ‘decoration’, it is possible to combine fields such as the type of decoration (painted, impressed, incised, etc) and iconographic elements such as the type of scene, characters that appear or animals. In addition, you can look for very diverse elements related to clothes, furniture or food. Another list of ornamental elements defines very well the style that is being investigated. This is where you will find decorative concepts such as borders, palmettes or scrolls. These elements describe the ornamentation of a vessel, especially if it has no figurative decoration.

Publications: In this section you can download for free some publications. Between them, X. Aquilué and P. Cabrera (coords.), Iberia Graeca. The Greek archaeological legacy on the Iberian Peninsula, Girona 2012 (3,968 dowloads); P. Bádenas de la Peña, P. Cabrera, M. Moreno, A. Ruiz, C. Sánchez and T. Tortosa (eds.), Homenaje a Ricardo Olmos. Per speculum in aenigmate. Miradas sobre la Antigüedad, Erytheia. Estudios y Textos nº 7, Madrid 2014 (5.852 dowloads); and X. Aquilué, P. Cabrera and M. Orfila (eds.), Homenaje a Glòria Trias Rubiés. Cerámicas griegas de la Península Ibérica: cincuenta años después (1967-2017), Barcelona 2017.

In ‘various’ there are different search options: pieces with inscriptions or marks (graffiti, paintings, etc.), secondary uses such as funerary garments or cinerary vase, or it shows if there are any old repairs of the type in the piece.

News: New finds in Greek archaeology from the Iberian Peninsula.

Both search engines allow you to combine as many concepts as you want, from the same or from different fields.

The Database

Working on a Data Sheet

This section contains a Database and images organized and updated. Currently the Database has only a ‘pottery’ category, but others will be introduced in the near future.

Making a data sheet is not as easy as it seems. It starts by identifying a geographic area of study or a particular archeological site where archeological remains of Greek

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Figure 4. An example of a simple search, combining a museum and a provenance.

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Figure 5. The ‘advanced search engine’ can combine several concepts, as in this case: Fabric: ‘Attic’; Shape: ‘Bell crater’; Scene: ‘Banquet’; Characters: ‘Youths’; Secondary elements: ‘Himation’.

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Figure 6. An advanced search as a result of combining different terms: Attic, Bell crater, Banquet, Youths and Himation.

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origin have been found. The next logical step is the search of the papers where these materials were published.

shape, function, chronology, and the style, among other characteristics. We believe it is an essential tool to rebuild the history of ancient Greek presence in the Iberian Peninsula.

The recovery and study of this heritage began more than a century ago and has been gradually published in a multitude of publications: monographs, scientific magazine articles, exhibitions catalogs and new spieces. Often significant fragments of Greek pottery have gone unnoticed in some small publications and have been known for years only by theirauthors and some archaeologists.

The bibliography related to each piece is chronologically ordered from the oldest to the most modern. It is interesting to mention that it includes the specific references within each publication (page numbers, plate, etc.). The bottom of each data sheet contains the fields related to the ‘advanced search’. The origin, technique or form of the piece and the elements related to its decoration and its state of conservation.

The Iberia Graeca Centre aims to compile this extensive and scattered bibliography and also focus on the Greek material that is part of studies where the indigenous materials and the imitations of the import pottery prevail.

The iconography motifs searchs options facilitates the study of various art historical decorative vocabularies, a sine qua non for studying ancient Greek art.

Sometimes the pieces we are looking for have not even been published and they belong to excavation reports that can only be easily accessed if they have been digitized. They are also often published with only a reference and no photo, inventory number or description. Thanks to these references we have been able to locate pieces that we did not know existed and recover the original published but hitherto inaccessible works. Adding these materials to the documentary base is also a way of giving value to these publications.

One of the most interesting fields is the ‘Inscriptions’ one. If the piece has an inscription the data sheet tells us how it was made, in which Language (Iberian, Greek or Phoenician); in which position, and the transcription in the Greek alphabet or Spanish. The field of ‘comments’ offers us possible interpretations of the inscription. In this case the referenced author thinks that it is a ‘dipinto’ of identification. So we believe this field gives us some valuable information about cultural and economic relations between Greeks or between Greeks and the indigenous.

The reinterpretation of archeological pieces has been important too. Often pieces have been published once a long time ago and in some cases it has been necessary to work on their reinterpretation modifying the chronology and iconography. Therefore, while building this Database we have updated what we know about the presence and influence of ancient Greeks in the Iberian Peninsula.

Uses of the Search Engines and the Data Sheets The Iberia Graeca Database was created as a tool for researching and disseminating the culture of Ancient Greece in Iberia.

All this work has been made possible thanks to the way the Iberia Graeca Centre is organized. One of their priorities has been the collaboration between researchers and documentalists with the archaeological sources and the bibliographical sources with which they are building the Database. This has had a positive impact on the quality, depth and reliability of the information contained in the Database.

Its applications in the field of research are evident, since it makes available (at a single click, as it is commonly said) to any researcher a large amount of information that until now was spread in many different places. Also, search engines allow searches in many different ways that allow the researcher to do studies quickly and in truth without having to travel. It should be noted that the Iberia Graeca Database is designed for studies in archeology, as well as studies of art history. Therefore, as it has been emphasized previously, fields as the archaeological context or the secondary uses of the piece are a very useful tool.

Structure of an Iberia Graeca Data Sheet The Iberia Graeca data sheets follow a similar structure to the information that you can search through the ‘simple search’ and the ‘advanced search’ (Figures 4-6). The general data of the piece can be found at the top (museum, inventory number, source, context, etc.), as well as the images of the piece, which can be enlarged by clicking on them (Figure 7).

Some examples of using the Iberia Graeca Database in scientific research are: • Searching for parallels for a piece of study. The search can be constrained by looking for parallels in the same geographical area, in the same decorative style or with a similar chronology. • Comparison of chronologies of similar pieces coming from different sites and excavation campaigns, all dated by the stratigraphic method. • Works related to specific geographical areas, types of particular archaeological contexts or other variables. • Studies related to the art history (decorative styles and their evolution, workshops or painters, etc).

The field context allows us to have access to the information about the archeological context of the piece. Among other things, it gives us information about other pieces that were found in the same context (Figure 8). From the beginning, the Centre has planned not only to include the known provenance of the pieces but also their archeological context in the Database (Figure 9). The information of each piece allows archeologists and other researchers to work on historical reconstruction using the

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Figure 7. An example of a data sheet from the Iberia Graeca Database. Data sheet number 7417; Attican red-figure bell crater from the oppidum of El Montgròs, Barcelona, Spain.

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Figure 8. We have access to the context ‘Stratigraphic Unity number 193. ‘Armorum’ fill 142’, where we can see its chronology, bibliography referenced and pieces related to it. The previous uses are especially directed towards archaeologists and historians whose research area is centered in Spain and Portugal. That said, this Database can be very useful for other researchers whose object of work exceeds these borders. For example, it is useful to search for parallels for specific painters or workshops, or for establishing reliable chronologies for them. Obviously, it also provides a platform to spread knowledge of the Greek presence in Iberia to researchers around the world.

In the future, the Database of the Iberia Graeca Centre will be expanded, with the introduction of other materials of Greek origin located in the Iberian Peninsula (coins, bronzes, architectural elements, etc.). This will allow us to deepen the investigation of the Greek commercial circuits and to understand the economic, social and cultural interrelations established by the Greeks and indigenous people in Antiquity. Bibliography

However, the Iberia Graeca searcher is not only for scientists, art historians, archaeologists or researchers but also for primary and high school teachers that teach about ancient Greece. For instance, if we look for Satyr we will be able to see all the representations of this character in pieces of the Database. Moreover, from those images you can learn many aspects of Greek mythology. Through the iconography identified in the pieces it is also possible to explore the daily life of the ancient Greeks.

Aquilué, X. 2014. Algunos comentarios sobre las bases de datos de las cerámicas de la antigüedad clásica en la Península Ibérica. Boletín de la Sociedad de Estudios de la cerámica antigua en Hispania, Ex officina hispana, núm. 5: 4248. Madrid. Aquilué, X. and Cabrera, P. 2012. El Centro Iberia Graeca. In X. Aquilué and P. Cabrera (coords.) Iberia Graeca. El legado arqueológico griego en la Península Ibérica: 156-165. Girona.

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Figure 9. The archaeological sites are geolocated in Google maps. From an archaeological site data sheet you can have access to the contexts and materials of this site. This is an image from El Montgròs, an Iberian fortification (oppidum) near the city of Vic, Barcelona Province. Aquilué, X. and Cabrera, P. 2014. Iberia Graeca: Un centro de investigación, documentación y difusión del patrimonio arqueológico griego en la Península Ibérica. In E. García Alfonso (ed.) Actas del II Congreso de Prehistoria de Andalucía (Antequera, Málaga, 15-17 febrero 2012): 215-224. Málaga.

Aquilué, X. and Cabrera, P. 2015. El Centro Iberia Graeca. In J. Mª. Álvarez, T. Nogales and I. Rodà (eds.) Actas del XVIII Congreso Internacional de Arqueología Clásica: Centro y periferia en el mundo clásico (Mérida, 13-17 de mayo de 2013) Vol. II: 1941-1946. Mérida.

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The Greeks Overseas: A Bioarchaeological Approach Tasos Zisis1 and Christina Papageorgopoulou2 An Account of Bio-Archaeology on the Greek Colonies

Greeks1from2the Aegean Islands, Asia Minor and continental Greece embarked on numerous expeditions.3 Their search for new homes was motivated by many reasons: out of necessity internal strife, social conflicts, political strategies, famine or poverty. They also moved in pursuit of better opportunities: new land to farm, more livestock to own, ampler natural resources to exploit and new markets to expand into. Emporia (trading posts) were in some cases the predecessor of colonies, whereas from the mid-8thc. BC the Greek poleis (city-states) such as Corinth, Eretria, regional or ethnic groups started to expand with more deliberate and longer-term intentions.

Anthropological studies concerned with the topic of Greek colonisation are paradoxically few compared to the huge body of literature on archaeology and history. These studies include macroscopic, biochemical and genetic analyses of osteological material. Among others, they deal with palaeodemography, palaeopathology, reconstruction of living conditions, and biodistance studies, which estimate, through the presence or absence of morphological features, the degree to which people from a cemetery are biologically related to one another.

Each colony had its individual history and foundation myths, colonies of its own, allies and special ties to the mother-city. Despite these distinct profiles, certain common features are observed in the foundation myth of most colonies, such as the significant role of the Delphic oracle in indicating new lands; the figure of the oikistes, the divine or mortal hero whose name was often given to the colony and may have led the group of settlers; the foundation of the first sanctuaries and the determination of the social order following the nomima (the laws and traditions of the motherland).4 Based on this data, archaeologists and historians identify a colony vis-àvis the mother-city, although this connection is not always straightforward.

Lawrence Angel, who studied skeletal collections from mainland Greece for decades and set the stage for the study of physical anthropology in the Aegean, came to the realisation that Greece was the ‘melting pot’ of the Mediterranean world.10 His diachronic analysis of crania from Corinthian skeletal collections led him to the conclusion that there was an amalgamation of cultural changes, correlated to biological shifts brought in by new groups of people.11 Angel’s osteological data for the period c.650-350 BC suggest that during these centuries the average age-at-death reached its maximum.12 It is generally accepted that, even if we avoid discussing about a demographic expansion, the population of ancient cities increased from Archaic to Classical times.13

The impact of the Greek colonisation has been studied by scholars from various perspectives: Mediterranean networks that persist for centuries,5 the emergence of Greek identity,6 the model of core-culture and periphery demonstrating the impact of Greek civilisation on natives,7 and the reverse view demonstrating the impact of the natives on Greek civilisation.8 Despite the huge body of literature on ancient Greek colonisation there are only a few pieces of evidence for this from the skeletal record. While many archaeological studies exist on the construction of ethnic and cultural identities,9 little effort has been made to explore these questions on a population history basis. In this article we review current bio-archaeological and palaeogenetic literature on Greek colonisation following a structure of geographical division, with a focus on the Archaic and Classical periods. Our aim is to show the significant potential of the biological heritage of Ancient Greek colonies for the understanding of demographic processes and the living conditions during these periods.

Food in ancient Greek societies was regarded as a marker of ethnic and cultural differentiation, with an extension in social stratigraphy.14 Through the study of dentitions and dental pathology, often in conjunction with stable isotopic evidence, researchers obtain an insight into the composition of diet of individuals, their dietary differences, and discover patterns of age, sex, and social status variations.15 Dietary habits in the colonies may have been influenced by the colonial trade network, resulting in similar dietary habits between various sites. A number of biodistance studies today focus on Greek colonisation. These try to identify Greeks and non-Greeks from ‘mixed’ colonial mortuary settings and to shed light in colonial strategies and interactions (e.g. whether the first colonists were young adult males).16 It is expected for many other cases, as it was found in Metaponto,17 that colonies with economic importance attracted a variable population of distinct geographical origins.

MSc, Laboratory of Physical Anthropology, Department of History and Ethnology, Democritus University of Thrace, [email protected]. 2  Associate Professor, Laboratory of Physical Anthropology, Department of History and Ethnology, Democritus University of Thrace. [email protected] 3  Graham 1983; Ridgway 1992; Boardman 1999; Grammenos & Petropoulos 2003, 2007; Tsetskhladze 2006, 2008; De Angelis 2009. 4  Malkin 2009. 5  Braudel 1972. 6  Malkin 2003; Hall 2009. 7  Rowlands et alii 1987. 8  Stoddart 1989; Whitehouse & Wilkins 1989. 9  e.g. Derks & Roymans 2009. 1 

Barnes 2003: 443, 435. Angel 1942, 1944. 12  Sallares 1991: 116. 13  Descoeudres 2008: 326. 14  Garnsey 1999: 6. 15  Keenleyside 2008: 262; Moles 2012: 6. 16  McIlvine et alii 2014: 1. 17  Rathmann et alii 2017. 10  11 

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Finally, there is research18 focused on reconstruction of living conditions through the study of long bones, and specifically through analysis of entheseal changes and biomechanics. Such analyses allow estimations of physical activity between individuals, sexes, social groups, and comparisons between different sites.

Albania revealed a shared Mediterranean genetic continuity, extending from Sicily to Cyprus.25 Southern Italian populations appear to be genetically closer to Greek speaking islands than to continental Greece. However, as it is underlined by these studies, quantifying Hellenic genetic flow by the proportion of specific lineages surviving in present-day populations may be misleading.26 Therefore, it is necessary to analyse ancient DNA data directly from archaeological skeletal populations dating to the timeframe under study.

Genetic Signatures of Greek Colonisation Palaeogenetics refers to the study of human, animal and plant evolutionary history through the examination of preserved genetic material from tissues of dead organisms. Until recently the field was limited to small fragments of maternally and paternally inherited mitochondrial DNA and Y-chromosome respectively and selected loci from autosomal DNA. With the implementation of next-generation-sequencing (NGS) complete human genomes can be produced and analysed from minute amounts of skeletal remains. The first studies on the origins of agriculture in Europe have already contributed significantly to European prehistory. We know for example that the Upper Palaeolithic and Mesolithic hunter-gatherers of central Europe were not directly ancestral to central Europe’s earliest farming populations and that the migratory chain go back to the Northern Aegean.19 The human genomes from the late 4th and 3rd millennium BC indicate massive migration of people associated with Eneolithic cultures in southern Russia and Ukraine.20

The Skeletal Record Western Europe Biodistance studies: A study of discrete cranial traits from 10 Sicilian skeletal series (n=488), chronologically attributed to the 1st and 2nd millennia BC, showed that the first biologically significant presence of Greeks in eastern Sicily dates to the Bronze Age, especially in the site of Thapsos, which is considered the first centre with an important Greek biological presence during the second millennium BC.27 All other sites belonging to this period cluster together, being dominated by what is characterized as an ‘indigenous genetic component’.28 In some cases, such as Castiglione, there is conservation of trait frequencies for long time periods, also exhibiting strong endogamy practices.

Palaeogenetic analysis of ancient human populations from colonial sites and their mother-cities has never been attempted, despite its invaluable potential for the study of demographic processes involving migration. Although geneticists have shown an interest in the demographic effect of the Ancient Greek Colonisation, their approach was based on modern Y-chromosome and mtDNA data. Through admixture analysis, 17% of the Y chromosomes of Provence may be attributed to Greek colonisation, while a Greek male elite-dominant input with a maximum of 10% is suggested to be the Greek contribution into the Iron Age Provence population, tracing the movement of Ionians to areas of France and Corsica.21 Modern data from Italian populations explain the present Y-chromosome lineages as an outcome of the Neolithisation process and post-Neolithic demographic events.22 In Western Europe, besides the predominant Neolithic background, there is also a presence of ancestries compatible with maritime Bronze Age migrations.23

A biodistance analysis of dental non-metric trait data (355 individuals from the indigenous Italic sites of Santa Maria d’Anglona, Incoronata and Passo di Giacobbe, and 351 individuals from the urban and rural areas of the Greek colony of Metaponto) reconstructed migration patterns and gene flow between the colony of Metaponto and the indigenous surrounding areas, in chronologies ranging between 900250 BC.29 Results indicate that the three indigenous groups exhibited higher similarity to each other than with the two Metapontine samples. The two Metapontine populations, which are geographically located in close proximity to each other, did not show biological cohesion, a finding suggesting that residents of Metaponto had diverse geographical origins, compared to the homogenous indigenous communities of the surrounding hinterland, who had increased levels of cohesion. This diversity between the two Metapontine sites can be either explained by a high degree of variability in the founding population, a population influx throughout the city’s history, or (most likely) a combination of both.

The latest studies combining high-resolution surveys in selected modern samples of putative source and recipient populations with forward-in-time simulations have recovered signatures of Greek ancestry in East Sicily compatible with the settlement from Euboea during the Archaic Period (8th5th century BC).24 The same study underlines a moderate sexbias in the numbers of migrants involved in the colonisation, estimating a few thousand breeding men and a few hundred breeding women. A genetic analysis of 511 samples from 23 populations from Sicily, southern Italy, Greece, and

Demography: Life tables from the populations of two Greek necropoleis in Metaponto (rural Pantanello and urban Crucinia) show new born life expectancy to be at early twenties, average adult age-at-death at around 40 years of age, and low survivorship to old age.30 In these two colonial settings, it is estimated that around 50% of the sub-adults would not survive long enough to reach sexual maturity.31 Regarding differences in life expectancy between the sexes, females lived slightly shorter than males.

18 

Agelarakis 1996; Marchi & Borgognini-Tarli 2002 Hofmanová et alii 2016. 20  Allentoft et alii 2015; Haak et alii 2015. 21  King et alii 2011: 6. 22  Boattini et alii 2013. 23  Sarno et alii 2017: 1. 24  Tofanelli et alii 2016.

25 

19 

26 

Sarno et alii 2017: 1. Tofanelli et alii 2016. 27  Rubini et alii 1999: 8, 15. 28  Rubini et alii 1999: 13, 17. 29  Rathmann et alii 2017: 453. 30  Henneberg & Henneberg 2001: 464. 31  Henneberg & Henneberg 1998.

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Pathology and occupational activities: In the Metapontine necropoleis of rural Pantanello and urban Crucinia, the urban population exhibited higher frequency of caries and periodontotal disease– a finding consistent with the consumption of a cariogenic diet.32 However, most dental cavities were not severe, as the process of carious development might have been inhibited by the arresting influence of fluoride in seafood. Females from the rural setting exhibited more carious lesions than males (64% and 46% respectively).33 Dental caries usually appears in higher frequencies in females, due to various reasons, including higher intake of carbohydrates, differentiation in dietary habits34 and increase of salivary cariogenic microorganisms during pregnancy.35 The urban setting of Crucinia was considered overall more unsanitary than the rural Pantanello, due to the higher percentage of individuals affected with linear enamel hypoplasia (96% and 78% respectively) - a finding consistent with the higher risk of (perhaps endemic) infection in urban environments.36

and Montescaglioso Belvedere reveal occupational stress (increased levels of muscular activity), with sexual division of labour. Females exhibited lower limb differential use, perhaps due to typical female activities, such as weaving, while males were highly mobile. Despite their relatively small sized limb bones, females from both sites had robust muscle attachments in their lower limbs, while males developed marked insertions of both upper and lower limbs, and were frequently affected by enthesopathies of adductor hallucis, exostoses of the insertion of the Achilles tendon (and in the case of Timmari, ossification of the ankle ligaments).48 This last pathological condition is frequently seen in modern marathon and long-distance runners, and is attributed to frequent and strenuous walking on irregular and unequal substrata, a fact that can be explained by the location of both sites in hilly regions.49 The presence of sexual dimorphism in certain skeletal series from regional cemeteries is suggested to be an indication that Greeks married local wives.50 Dietary reconstruction and migration studies: δ13C and δ15N values from bone collagen extracted from individuals from the rural Pantanello and urban Crucinia necropoleis of Metaponto indicate an almost identical diet between the two sites. Marine components in diet range around 9-23%, while the 80-90% of protein intake originated from C3 plants - including consumption of dairy and meat products from animals feeding on C3 plants.51

Cribra orbitalia and porotic hyperostosis from the necropoleis of Heraclea,37 Pithekousai,38 and Metaponto39 are mainly attributed to thalassemia40 with Greek genetic attribution,41 although this remains to be confirmed. Genetic mutations related to thalassemia are suggested to be present in the first colonists of Metaponto, who are believed to originate from geographical areas with population histories of contact with endemic falciparum malaria, at a time period before the inhabitants of Latium and Etruria came into contact with it.42

Balkan Peninsula and the Aegean

Osteological analyses from indigenous populations from Timmari (n=24) and Montescaglioso Belvedere (n=27), close to Metaponto, suggest good overall health and nutrition status43 - perhaps better than their contemporaries from Metaponto.44 Low frequency of cribra orbitalia is observed in Timmari and Montescaglioso Belvedere. These populations show mild dental pathologies, connected to agricultural economy and consumption of high levels of carbohydrates.45 They exhibit weak manifestations of enamel hypoplasias, generally similar to coeval Metapontine samples.46 The oral health in Timmari was worse than in Montescaglioso Belvedere, despite the lack of any archaeological indications of inequalities in social status between the two sites.47

Biodistance: In a biodistance analysis conducted in a skeletal population from the Corinthian colony Apollonia pros Epidamnon (in modern day Albania), the pattern of human biological interaction was assessed by using non-metric cranial and dental traits (Apollonia: n=116, Corinth: n=69, Lofkënd: n=108).52 Lofkënd is an archaeological site near Apollonia, predating the colonial era. A logistic regression analysis of non-metric data from all three necropoleis indicates that individuals from colonial Apollonia were biologically more closely related to prehistoric Illyrian populations (both from Lofkënd and prehistoric Apollonia) than to Greeks from Corinth.53 This suggests that the genetic contribution of a - probably small - number of settlers from Corinth was not enough to change significantly the pre-existing Illyrian population residing in Apollonia.54 Nevertheless, an overall analysis of certain trait combinations from all three sites indicated the presence of biological homogeneity among Greek and Illyrian groups. This phenotypic similarity points towards the existence of shared ancestry and long-term migration in the Balkan Peninsula.55

Osteoarthritis is reported, mainly in vertebrae. Long bones from the two sites show signs of bone remodelling (osteophytosis and enhtesopathies), which indicate mechanical stress. Lifestyle reconstruction in Timmari Henneberg & Henneberg 2001: 469. Henneberg & Henneberg 2003: 34. 34  Walker & Hewlett 1990: 395. 35  Laine 2002: 257. 36  Henneberg & Henneberg 2001: 469. 37  Ascenzi & Balisteri 1977. 38  Becker 1995. 39  Henneberg & Henneberg 1998. 40  Reviewed in Keenleyside & Panayotova 2006: 378. 41  Silvestroni & Bianco 1959 – cited in Keenleyside & Panayotova 2006: 378. 42  Sallares et alii 2004: 324. 43  Marchi & Borgognini-Tarli 2002: 59, 63. 44  Henneberg & Henneberg 1998 . 45  Marchi & Borgognini-Tarli 2002: 70-75. 46  Henneberg et alii 1992; Henneberg & Henneberg 1994, 1998. 47  Marchi & Borgognini-Tarli 2002: 75. 32  33 

Pathology and Occupational Activities The post-colonial population of Apollonia shows overall higher frequencies of non-specific physiological stress markers, such as porotic hyperostosis, cribra orbitalia and Marchi & Borgognini-Tarli 2002: 59, 72-74. Dutour 1986; Marchi & Borgognini-Tarli 2002: 73. 50  Marchi & Borgognini-Tarli 2002: 75. 51  Henneberg & Henneberg 2001: 468. 52  McIlvine et alii 2014: 1. 53  McIlvine et alii 2014: 1. 54  McIlvine et alii 2014: 11. 55  McIlvine et alii 2014: 1, 10. 48  49 

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linear enamel hypoplasia than the pre-colonial population, with males ranging higher than females during both periods although without statistical significance. The lack of evidence for skeletal trauma in post-colonial Apollonia is considered as an indicator of non-violent colonial interactions.56 The higher frequency of sub-adults of Apollonia’s post-colonial population may be indicative of rising sub-adult mortality, or, more likely, representative of a demographic transition resulting from population growth after colonisation.57

The absence of a strong reliance on regular crops in Abdera (C3 plants, such as wheat and barley) has been interpreted as an indication that the colonial population did not strongly rely on agricultural production, but to sea derived resources.70 It was perhaps because of the Clazomenian mentality of being superior to nautical affairs, in comparison to the Thracians, what made the first settlers turn to the sea. Later on, during Hellenistic times, there was a shift in the diet based on agricultural C3 plants, supplemented by adequate inclusions of both terrestrial and marine protein. These results indicate amelioration of living conditions and organised agricultural production.

The skeletal material from archaic Abdera in the Northern Aegean was also macroscopically and palaeopathologically examined. Labour diversity among the sexes was detected in skeletons in both upper and lower limbs.58 Females exhibited emphasised musculoskeletal markers of occupational stress, while males demonstrated extended spondyloarthropathic manifestations - especially after their third decade. Furthermore, adult individuals showed indications of malnutrition and pathological lesions, consistent with high frequency of infections, inflammations, and metabolic diseases, such as vitamin C deficiency.

Black Sea71 Pathology: Lesions of porotic hyperostosis and cribra orbitalia (28% of 184 skeletons) were present in skeletons from Apollonia Pontica, the majority of which are categorized as mild to moderate, with a significantly higher proportion of affected individuals belonging to sub-adult age groups while no differences between sexes were detected.72 The examination of affected individuals did not indicate connection to thalassaemia, suggesting that the lesions were more typical to iron deficiency anaemia.73

In a skeletal sample (n=65) from Classical Thasos, bone robusticity and emphasized muscle attachments are more discernible in males of all age categories compared to females of the same age groups - indicating differences in distribution of labour and physical activity between sexes, with males covering long distances in uneven substrates of a steep terrain, compatible with the geomorphology of Thasos.59 Similar results are found in earlier populations from the island, belonging to the Late Bronze and Early Iron Age.60 Furthermore, a rare disorder, namely acquired external ear exostoses, is detected in a male from Classical Thasos.61 The condition is associated with prolonged or repeated exposure to cold aquatic activities and is connected to occupational stress resulting from maritime activities.62

In the population of Apolonia Pontica (5th-2nd centuries BC), dental pathological conditions, such as caries, calculus, abscesses and ante-mortem tooth loss (often associated with caries), appear in high frequencies in older adults, revealing the age-progressive nature of these lesions.74 The high rate of caries indicates that individuals from Apollonia either relied heavily on a carbohydrate diet or had poor oral hygiene. Young adult and middle-aged females were found to have a slightly higher rate of caries, but without statistical significance.75 Regarding dental calculus, males were found to exhibit higher rates than females (50.3% and 40.6% respectively).

Men from Thasos showed a higher prevalence to disease than women.63 The pathological profile of the population indicates presence of metabolic disorders, degenerative disease, and trauma, which however was no cause of death in any of the cases examined, as recovery process is present on the bones. Osteoarthritis is present in the joints of both upper and lower limbs and vertebrae. Moreover, the Classical population sample includes two cases of endocranial meningeal inflammatory responses and three cases of infantile anemias related to parasitic infection and/or malnutrition.64 Benign osseous tumours were also found in a few old individuals.

A higher degree of dental wear in males’ anterior teeth, but in a moderate degree and without frequent pulp exposure, indicates potential sex differences in the use of teeth as tools – and specifically in activities related to fishing.76 The mild dental wear levels of Apollonia Pontica, which did not indicate a coarse diet, and was more pronounced in older individuals, was similar to those from Pithekousai77 and rural Metaponto.78

Dietary reconstruction and migration studies: Stable isotopic analyses from Abdera indicate that marine dietary resources were dominant, and that C4 plants (e.g. millet) were also present in the diet.65 Although C4 plant values can

Vika & Theodoropoulou 2012: 1624. Reitsema et alii 2010. 68  Petrousa & Manolis 2010. 69  Papathanasiou et alii 2013. 70  Agelarakis 2010: 378. 71  There are no biodistance studies published from this area. 72  Keenleyside & Panayotova 2006: 377. 73  Keenleyside & Panayotova 2006: 380. 74  Keenleyside 2008: 262, 272. 75  Keenleyside 2008: 271-272. 76  Keenleyside 2008: 262, 274. 77  Becker 1995: 279. 78  Henneberg & Henneberg 1998: 536. 66  67 

McIlvaine 2012. Larsen 2015; Kyle et alii 2016. Agelarakis 2010: 377-379. 59  Agelarakis 1996: 786, 784-785. 60  Agelarakis 1999: 453. 61  Agelarakis & Serpanos 2010. 62  Agelarakis & Serpanos 2010: 45. 63  Agelarakis 1996: 787. 64  Agelarakis 1996: 787. 65  Agelarakis 2010: 376. 56  57  58 

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Regarding enamel hypoplasia at the Apollonian sample (25.4% of the individuals), the fact that both sexes exhibited similar frequencies of the dental defect suggests that there was no discrimination in childhood physiological stress with relevance to sex.79 Here, individuals who suffered physiological stress in early childhood, had shorter life expectancy. In Abdera the majority of individuals with linear enamel hypoplasia survived until late adulthood.80 In the Apollonian population, enamel hypoplasia is attributed to a combination of nutritional stress and exposure to infectious diseases.

a higher consumption of carbohydrates by females, and higher protein consumption by males.89 Regarding infant feeding practices and childhood diet in Apollonia, it was estimated that weaning started between six months and one year of age, and ended, in most cases, by the age of three.90 Infant diet included primarily terrestrial C3 resources. Dental pathological findings suggest that complementary foods provided to young children had an impact on their oral health since an early age. Regarding migration studies, oxygen isotopic evidence (δ18O) from tooth enamel, showed that 55 out of the 60 individuals buried in Apollonia Pontica (5th-3rd centuries BC) were born in the area, while the remaining 5 originated from different areas, with higher δ18Ow precipitation levels - presumably from the Aegean.91 A point of interest is that the migrants (both males and females – with one possible exception) likely moved in Apollonia Pontica during childhood, either together with their parents, or were traded as slaves.92

In ancient Mesembria, a colony of Megara, males from the Classical period exhibited a slightly poorer oral health than females, while diachronically, oral health deteriorated from ancient to medieval times.81 Dietary Reconstruction and Migration Studies Bone collagen (δ13C and δ15N) and carbonate from 54 adult individuals from Apollonia Pontica, (5th-2nd centuries BC) was analyzed.82 Individuals relied on a mixed diet of both terrestrial (C3 plants related) and marine resources. Specifically, δ13C and δ15N values suggest that although marine foods comprised a significant part of the population’s diet (detected in nitrogen values), a high proportion of the carbon used in the construction of amino acids originated from terrestrial foods.83

A diachronic stable isotopic analysis of Mesembria, starting from the Classical period (5th-4th century BC) and ranging to the late Byzantine period indicated that, apart from Byzantine times when the population had presumably dietary restrictions due to religion and turned to marine resources for protein (presence of elevated δ15N values), diet did not change significantly overtime.93 Specifically, the population’s diet was based on foods of terrestrial origin (C3 plants), but also included a significant amount of marine foods.

The population relied on a diet based on wheat and barley, both of which contain adequate quantities of iron.84 At a first glance, this would be inconsistent with presence of high levels of iron deficiency anemias in the sample. Wheat and barley, however, both being cereals that contain phytates (substances that inhibit the intestinal absorption of iron), in combination with periodical food shortages, malnutrition due to crop failure, warfare, political instability or crowded living conditions could explain the increased frequencies of iron deficiency anemia.85

Comparative Studies on the Mother-City Colonial Anthropology The aspect of duality between mother-city and colony has rarely been studied. Here we report two examples. The first comes from the examination of the physical impact of Corinthian colonisation at Apollonia pros Epidamnon, in modern-day Albania.94 Osteological analysis of both Apollonia and Corinth imply an increase of physiological stress of the post-colonial population, due to impoverishment after Corinth’s extraction of local resources, changes in sanitation, and disease transmission associated with the new living conditions of large-scale urbanism. The osteological record of the Corinthian population showed a minor decrease at the levels of physiological stress - probably connected with the improvement of food availability and dietary quality.

Dental pathological data from the site do not indicate differentiation in protein consumption between age groups and sexes, although stable carbon isotopic values derived from bone carbonate (with males ranking higher than females) point towards a slight differentiation between the sexes in the overall diet.86 Differences in isotopic values were observed according to burial type. Males who were buried in cist graves exhibited significantly higher δ15N values than those buried in pit graves.87 Besides this difference, all burial types for both sexes cluster close to each other.

The second example comes from Aegean Thrace. The relatively poor living conditions of the first settlers of Abdera differ significantly from the considerably better living standards of their coeval population of Clazomenae, Abdera’s mother city, which was more developed, in terms of techno-economic growth.95 Harsh climate, in combination with frequent invasions by Thracian tribes, are proposed to be among the possible explanations resulting the poor living conditions of Abdera’s first settlers .96 Moreover, during the

The comparison of human and faunal δ13C and δ15N signatures from Apollonia Pontica revealed increased values in human collagen – a fact indicating consumption of a significant amount of marine protein by humans.88 These data indicate Keenleyside 2008: 274. Agelarakis 2000: 17. Moles 2012: 22. 82  Keenleyside et alii 2006; Keenleyside 2008. 83  Keenleyside et alii 2006: 1205. 84  Keenleyside et alii 2006. 85  Keenleyside & Panayotova 2006: 380. 86  Keenleyside 2008: 262. 87  Keenleyside et alii 2006: 1212. 88  Keenleyside et alii 2006: 1211. 79  80 

Keenleyside 2008: 275. Schmidt et alii 2016: 284. 91  Keenleyside et alii 2011: 2658. 92  Keenleyside et alii 2011: 2665. 93  Moles 2012: ii. 94  Kyle et alii 2016. 95  Agelarakis 2010: 379. 96  Agelarakis 2010: 375-379. 89 

81 

90 

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initial phases of the foundation of Abdera, childhood diseases, anemias, and scurvy are suggested to be disproportionately highly prevalent in sub-adults, in contrast to the significantly lower mortality and morbidity markers in sub-adults from Clazomenae.

Agelarakis, A. 1996. Physical Anthropology and Palaeopathology at the Classical Necropolis of Thasos. In Koukouli-Chrysanthaki C., M. Sgourou and A. Agelarakis Αρχαιολογικές έρευνες στη νεκρόπολη της Αρχαίας Θάσου: 1979–1996: 769-794. Το Αρχαιολογικό Έργο στη Μακεδονία και τη Θράκη 10Β. Agelarakis, A. 1999. Reflections of the human condition in Prehistoric Thasos: Aspects of the anthropological and palaeopathological record from the settlement of Kastri. In Koukouli-Chrysanthaki C., A. Muller and S. Papadopoulos (ed.) Actes du Colloque International Matières prèmieres et Technologie de la Préhistoire à nos jours, Limenaria, Thasos: 447-468. Agelarakis, A. 2000. Aspects of Demography and Palaeopathology among the Hellenistic Abderetes in Thrace, Greece. In Eulimene 2000, Studies in Classical Archaeology, Epigraphy, Numismatics and Papyrology: 1324. Mediterranean Archaeological Society, Rethymnon, Crete. Vol. 1. Agelarakis, A. 2010 (1999). The anthropological Record (Appendix). In Skarlatidou E.K. Το Αρχαϊκό Νεκροταφείο των Αβδήρων (The Archaic Cemetery of Abdera): 375-388. Thessaloniki: Archaeological Institute of Macedonian and Thracian Studies, Ziti Publishing. Agelarakis, A., and Y.C. Serpanos 2010. Auditory Exostoses, Infracranial Skeletomuscular Changes and Maritime Activities in Classical Period Thasos Island. In Mediterranean Archaeology and Archaeometry 10: 45‐57. Angel, J.L. 1942. A Preliminary Study of the Relations of Race to Culture, Based on Ancient Greek Skeletal Material (diss. Harvard University). Angel, J.L. 1944. A Racial Analysis of the Ancient Greeks: An Essay on the Use of Morphological Types. In American Journal of Physical Anthropology 2: 330-376. Ascenzi, A., and P. Balisteri 1977. Porotic hyperostosis and the problem of the origin of thalassemia in Italy. In Journal of Human Evolution 6: 595–604. Barnes, E. 2003. The dead do tell tales. In Corinth: Results of Excavations Conducted by the American School of Classical Studies at Athens: 435-443. Becker, M.J. 1995. Human skeletal remains from the precolonial Greek emporium of Pithekoussai on Ischia (NA): culture contact in Italy from the early eighth to the second century BC. In Christie, N. (ed.) Settlement and Economy in Italy 1500 B.C. To A.D. 1500. Papers of the Fifth Conference on Italian Archaeology: 273–281. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Boardman, J. 1999. The Greeks Overseas: Their Early Colonies and Trade. 4th (ed.) London: Thames and Hudson. (originally published in 1964). Braudel, F. 1972. The Mediterranean and the Mediterranean World in the Age of Philip II. Reynolds, S. trans. New York: Harper & Row. De Angelis, F. 2009. Colonies and colonization. In Boys-Stones, G., B. Graziosi and P. Vasunia (ed.) The Oxford handbook of Hellenic studies: 48-64. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Derks, T., and N. Roymans (ed.) 2009. Ethnic Constructs in Antiquity: The Role of Power and Tradition. Amsterdam Arch. Stud. 13. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press. Descoeudres, J.-P. 2008. Central Greece on the Eve of the Colonisation Movement. In Tsetskhladze, G.R. (ed.) Greek

Output and Future Perspectives The examples given from the anthropological literature are undeniably fragmented, geographically isolated and not fully contextualised, especially considering the lack of comparable data from Greek settlements. However, they show the potential to explore migration rates, degree of assimilation or admixture, sex-specific demographic patterns, and genetic ancestries, as long as these lines of evidence will be systematically collected and analysed. There is still ongoing debate on the mode, intensity, and tempo of the migration movements.97 Was it similar to a drift or an organised colonisation? Can we identify biological, linguistic, religious, cultural or social groups whose origins were just as often imagined as real? What was the role of the local populations - were they subjects of assimilation or differentiation? The nuclei of settlers attracted numerous others and perhaps local women. What were the effects on health and standards of living during the initial phases of colonisation? Many of these remaining questions are anthropological or genetic in nature and can at present be illuminated with novel analytic tools. These, in combination with ‘classical’ sources of information, can provide an improved understanding of the ‘biological side’ of the Greek colonisation process. This new scientific evidence can be complementary to existing archaeological and historic knowledge and could significantly increase our understanding about the people of the past who were involved in the Greek colonisation. Acknowledgements This research has been conducted with a scholarship by the Greek State Scholarships Foundation (IKY) funded by the action ‘Reinforcement of the human research resources through realisation of doctoral research’ from the resources of the EP ‘Human Resources Development, Education and Lifelong Learning’, 2014-2020 with the co-financing of the European Social Fund (ESF) and the Greek State’. We would like to  thank Amalia Avramidou Assist. Professor of Classical Archaeology and Assist. Professor Elias Petropoulos at the Department of Language, Literature and Culture of the Black Sea Countries, for  their support through the realization of the PhD project. We also thank the Ephorate of Antiquities of Rhodopi, and especially the archaeologists Dr. Marina Tasaklaki, Dr. Tzeni Tsatsopoulou and the director Dr. Chryssa  Karadima, as well as the Ephorate of Antiquities of Xanthi and the director Dr. Konstantina Kallintzi for their cooperation and the permission to study the skeletal remains of the Greek colonies in Thrace.

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e.g. Hornblower 1997; Papadopoulos 1999.

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colonisation: an account of Greek colonies and other settlements overseas. 289-383. Leiden, Boston: Brill. Dutour, O. 1986. Enthesopathies (lesions of muscular insertions) as indicators of the activities of Neolithic Saharan populations. In American Journal of Physical Anthropology 71: 221–224. Garnsey, P. 1999. Food and Society in Classical Antiquity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Graham, A.J. 1983. Colony and mother city in ancient Greece. 2nd (ed.) Chicago: Ares Press. Grammenos, B. and E.K. Petropoulos (ed.) 2003. Ancient Greek colonies in the Black Sea. Thessaloniki: Archaeological Institute of Northern Greece. Grammenos, B. and E.K. Petropoulos (ed.) 2007. Ancient Greek colonies in the Black Sea 2. Oxford: Archaeopress. BAR International Series 1675 (1-2). Hall, J.M. 2009. Ethnicity and Cultural Exchange. In In Raaflaub K.A. and H. van Wees (ed.) A Companion to Archaic Greece: 604-617. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell. Henneberg, M., and R.J. Henneberg 1994. Treponematosis in an ancient Greek colony of Metaponto, southern Italy, 580–250 BCE. In L’origine de la syphilis en Europe avant ou apres 1493: 92-99. Henneberg, M., and R.J. Henneberg 1998. Biological characteristics of the population based on analysis of skeletal remains. In Carter, J.C. (ed.) The Chora of Metaponto – The necropoles. Vol II: 503–559. Austin: University of Texas. Henneberg, M., and R.J. Henneberg 2001. Analysis of human skeletal and dental remains from Metaponto (7th–2nd C BC). In Problemi della ‘Chora’Coloniale dall’Occidente al Mar Nero: 461-84. Henneberg, M., and R.J. Henneberg 2003. The diet of the Metapontine population as reconstructed from the physical remains. In Carter, J.C. (ed.) Living Off the Chora: Diet and Nutrition at Metaponto: 29–36. Austin: University of Texas Press. Henneberg, M., R.J. Henneberg and J.C. Carter 1992. Health in colonial Metaponto. In Nat Geogr Res Expl 8: 446–459. Hornblower, S. 1997. Thucydides and Chalcidic Torone (IV.110.1). In Oxford Journal of Archaeology 16: 177-186. Keenleyside, A. 2008. Dental pathology and diet at Apollonia, a Greek colony on the Black Sea. In International Journal of Osteoarchaeology 18: 262-279. Keenleyside, A. 2011. Congenital aural atresia in an adult female from Apollonia Pontica, Bulgaria. In International Journal of Paleopathology 1: 63–67. Keenleyside A, and K. Panayotova 2006. Cribra Orbitalia and Porotic Hyperostosis in a Greek Colonial Population (5th to 3rd Centuries BC) from the Black Sea. In International Journal of Osteoarchaeology 16: 373–384. King, R.J, J. Di Cristofaro, A. Kouvatsi, C. Triantaphyllidis, W. Scheidel, N.M. Myres, et alii 2011. The coming of the Greeks to Provence and Corsica: Y-chromosome models of archaic Greek colonization of the western Mediterranean. In BMC evolutionary biology 11: 69. Kyle, B., L.A. Schepartz, and C.S. Larsen 2016. Mother City and Colony: Bioarchaeological Evidence of Stress and Impacts of Corinthian Colonization at Apollonia, Albania. In International Journal of Osteoarchaeology 26: 1067-1077. Laine, M.A. 2002. Effect of pregnancy on periodontal and dental health. In Acta Odontologica Scandinavica 60: 257–264.

Larsen, C.S. 2015. Bioarchaeology: Interpreting Behavior from the Human Skeleton, second ed. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Malkin, I. 2003. Networks and the Emergence of Greek Identity. In Mediterranean Historical Review 18: 56-74. Malkin, I. 2009. Foundations. In Raaflaub K.A. and H. van Wees (ed.) A Companion to Archaic Greece: 373-394. Oxford: WileyBlackwell. Marchi, D., and S.M. Borgognini Tarli 2002. The skeletal biology of two Italian peninsular Magna Graecia necropoles, Timmari and Montescaglioso. In HOMOJournal of Comparative Human Biology 53: 59-78. McIlvaine, B.K. 2012. Greek Colonization of the Balkans: Bioarchaeological Reconstruction of Behavior and Lifestyle During Corinthian Colonial Expansion into Ancient Apollonia, Albania. PhD dissertation, The Ohio State University, Columbus, OH. McIlvaine, B.K., L.A. Schepartz, C.S. Larsen and P.W. Sciulli 2014. Evidence for long‐term migration on the Balkan Peninsula using dental and cranial nonmetric data: Early interaction between Corinth (Greece) and its colony at Apollonia (Albania). In American journal of physical anthropology 153: 236-248. Moles, A. 2012. A Stable Isotope Analysis Study for Dietary Reconstruction at the Multi-Period Site of Mesembria on the Black Sea. MSc Dissertation. University of Edinburgh. Papadopoulos, J.K. 1999. Archaeology, Myth-History and the Tyranny of the Text: Chalkidike, Torone and Thucydides. In Oxford Journal of Archaeology 18: 377-393. Papathanasiou, A., E. Panagiotopoulou, K. Beltsios, M.F. Papakonstantinou and M. Sipsi 2013. Inferences from the human skeletal material of the Early Iron Age cemetery at Agios Dimitrios, Phthiotis, Central Greece. In Journal of Archaeological Science 40: 2924-2933. Rathmann, H, G. Saltini Semerari and K. Harvati 2017. Evidence for Migration Influx into the Ancient Greek Colony of Metaponto: A Population Genetics Approach Using Dental Nonmetric Traits. In International Journal of Osteoarchaeology 27: 453–464. Reitsema, L.J., D.E. Crews and M. Polcyn 2010. Preliminary evidence for medieval Polish diet from carbon and nitrogen stable isotopes. In Journal of Archaeological Science 37: 1413–1423. Ridgway, D. 1992. The first Western Greeks. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Rowlands, M., M. Larsen and K. Kristiansen (ed.) 1987. Centre and Periphery in the Ancient World. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Rubini, M, E. Bonafede and S. Mogliazza 1999. The population of East Sicily during the second and first millennium BC: the problem of the Greek colonies. In International Journal of Osteoarchaeology 9: 8-17. Sallares, R. 1991. The Ecology of the Ancient Greek World. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Sallares, R, A. Bouman and C. Anderung 2004. The spread of malaria to southern Europe in antiquity: new approaches to old problems. In Medical History 48: 311-328. Sarno, S., A. Boattini, L. Pagani, M. Sazzini, S. De Fanti, A. Quagliariello et alii 2017. Ancient and recent admixture layers in Sicily and Southern Italy trace multiple migration routes along the Mediterranean. In Scientific Reports 7: 1984.

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Tsetskhladze, G.R. (ed.) 2006. Greek Colonisation: an account of Greek colonies and other settlements overseas. Leiden, Boston, and Köln: Brill. Volume I. Tsetskhladze, G.R. (ed.) 2008. Greek Colonisation: an account of Greek colonies and other settlements overseas. Leiden, Boston, and Köln: Brill. Volume II. Vika, E. and T. Theodoropoulou 2012. Re-investigating fish consumption in Greek antiquity: results from δ13C and δ15N analysis from fish bone collagen. In Journal of Archaeological Science 39: 1618-1627. Walker, P.L. and B.S. Hewlett 1990. Dental health, diet, and social status among central African foragers and farmers. In American Anthropologist 92: 383–398. Whitehouse, R. and D. Wilkins 1989. Greeks and Natives in SouthEast Italy: Approaches to the Archaeological Evidence. In Champion, T.C. (ed.) Centre and Periphery: Comparative Studies in Archaeology: 102-126. London: Routledge.

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The Messenian Island of Prote and its Relation to Navigation in Greece and the Mediterranean Stamatis A. Fritzilas1 Prote1 is a small island off the western coast of Messenia. Of particular interest are rock-cut inscriptions located in the island’s small cove known as ‘Grammeno’ or ‘sta Grammata’, dating from the sixth century BC to the Christian era. A number of these inscriptions mention the term εὔπλοια, i.e. ‘fair voyage’. Passing seamen traveling on ships that came to anchor at the cove would carve their pleas for a safe passage. The port of origin is often stated along with the seafarer’s name, most of them in the Aegean and along the coast of Ionia. What is interesting in the case of the inscriptions on the island of Prote is that they are also connected to the main sea routes that originated in, or passed through, the Peloponnese and led to Italy and Sicily. The first maritime route was a coastal one, since it hugged the shores of Western Greece and Italy. The second maritime route was thoroughly seagoing and involved sailing across the open sea. The Eastern Mediterranean had its fair share of dangerous voyages too, since euploia - inscriptions are also known from Aegean islands such as Syros and Thasos. The paper correlates testimonies from ‘fair voyage’ inscriptions with points where ancient ships would change course. Euploia - inscriptions mark dangerous points along a maritime route whence ships would strike out across open water or to which they returned after a long voyage.

Western Greece.4 References to the island may also be found in the works of ancient Greek and Roman writers.5 Thucydides (4.13.3) and Strabo (8.3.23, 8.4.2.) refer to the island as Proti (Πρωτή νῆσος). According to the scholiasts, this change (i.e. the retraction of the accent) that had taken place in Antiquity was due to the adaptation of the adjective as a proper name. The name Πρωτή seems to have derived from Πλωτή, a result of the interchange between rho and the other liquid consonant, lambda – Πλωτή denoting an island that can be circumnavigated and is surrounded by deep water. Ancient authorities attributed the name Πλωτή or Πλωταί to Delos, Aeolia (the mythical island of the god Aeolus), as well as to the now uninhabited Strophades islands that lay nearby, 30 miles northwest of Prote.6 The islet of Prote lies in the Ionian Sea, more or less midway between Kyparissia and Pylos, at the southwestern tip of the region of Triphylia. The islet of Prote lies before the small harbor of modern Marathos (or Marathoupolis); a narrow strip of water known as Proti Pass or Proti Channel, about 0.6 nautical miles in width, separates it from Cape Marathos (Figure 2). The island is approximately two nautical miles long from North to South. Of particular interest is a number of inscriptions carved on the smooth surface of the vertical cliffs in the small cove known as ‘Grammeno’ or ‘sta Grammata’, at the northeastern side of Prote. Numerous texts may be seen on the high rocky facades of the cove’s north (Figure 3) and south sides, carved by people standing on a ship’s deck or high up on its masts. The first to mention the existence of the inscriptions was the English traveler W. M. Leake, when he approached Prote in 1802 on a ship sailing from Cythera to Zakynthos, after the wreck of the Mentor, the sailing vessel that carried the Parthenon Marbles.7 Many years later, various researchers have devoted their time to transcribing the inscriptions (Figure 4): the Dutchman J. H. Strijd,8 the German W. Kolbe,9 the Swede Μ. Ν. Valmin10 and the Greek G. Martinis.11 Τhe euploia - inscriptions are mainly dated to the Roman imperial era. One of the earlier specimens is a boustrophedon text carved in an archaic script.12 Twenty six inscriptions of the island of Prote mention the term εὔπλοια (‘fair voyage’) in all its variations (εὔπλοια, εὔπλωια, εὔπλεα).13 The word euploia is usually found at the

Currently, fewer people sail by ship to Lisbon, a modern city founded on the site of an ancient settlement with a secure harbour  for ships in the western  Iberian Peninsula  on the Atlantic Ocean. In Antiquity, however, sea voyages were the most common way of reaching distant lands, particularly those lying at the edge of the then known world, beyond the Pillars of Hercules, in other words modern Gibraltar. The topic of my paper, will relate to fair sea voyages and the perils of sailing away from land. More specifically, I will refer to navigation in Greece, based on the epigraphic evidence from Prote, a small island off the coast of Messenia where two spacious coves offer ships a safe haven in the face of Ionian Sea winds blowing from whichever direction (Figure 1) .2 The island is mentioned in Early Modern portolans and travelers’ itineraries under various names, usually as Proti, Pruode, Prima or Prodano.3 According to one view, Prote owes its name to the fact that it is the first island one comes across when approaching the Peloponnese from a westerly direction, sailing along the shores of continental

Bölte 1957: 925-927. Pseudo-Scylax 45. Pliny, Historia Naturalis 4.55. Ptolemaeus, Geographia 3.14.44. Stephanus Byzantius 537.16-17. 6  Gisinger 1951: 463. 7  Leake 1830: 70. 8  Strijd 1904: 361. 9  Kolbe 1905: 55. IG V (1): 309-311. 10  Valmin 1929: 152-155, pl. XXa-d. 11  Martinis 1934: 190-194. 12  Valmin 1929: 153-154 no. 29 fig. 13. Martinis 1934: 193 no. 10. Jeffery 1990: 202-203, 206. no. 2. 13  A number of inscriptions have been destroyed – and not just from rockslides or erosion. After the German W. Kolbe visited the island in 1904, two local men, a certain Triantaphyllos from Gargalianoi and a 4  5 

Head of the Department of Prehistoric and Classical Archaeological Sites, Monuments, Archaeognostic Research and Museums Ephorate of Antiquities of Messenia, Benaki & Papazoglou 6, 24100 Kalamata, Greece. 2  For the history of Prote see Valmin 1930: 141-145. Roebuck 1941: 23, 39ff. Meyer 1957: 927-928. McDonald and Rapp 1972: 310-311 no. 407. Meyer 1978: 204. Dimakis 1984: 44ff. Shipley 2004: 558. 3  Liritzis 1973: 92. Liritzis 2013: 67-68. Nanetti 2011: 75 fig. 7, 95-96, 113, 117-118, 140-141, 166-168 fig. 27-33, 252 fig. 147. Kyriakopoulou 2014: 774. 1 

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Figure 1. The Island of Prote and the Cape Marathos – Αerial photograph. EFAMES.14 beginning of the invocative inscription in the nominative (in twenty three instances). It is often accompanied by a dative mentioning the name of the man, either the captain or the ship-owner (nauclerus or dominus navis) or even the agent who acts for a shipmaster (προναύκληρος), for whom the prayer is inscribed,14for instance ‘εὔπλοια τῷ Εἰ[ου]νίῳ τ̣ῷ Ἐφεσίῳ τῷ Ἑρμοδώρου’’(Figure 5).15 In some cases the person’s name is in the vocative, with the word euploia in the accusative. At other times, the dative refers to the name of the vessel (Εὔπλοια τῇ Δήμητρι).16 The inscriptions are a means of wishing a fair voyage to ships that are often named after sea deities, such as Aphrodite, Dioscuri, Athena, Asclepius, Dionysus and,

Poseidon, but also Demeter, Thyella, Kallistolaustros, and the Early Christian ship’s name Maria. Some of the Roman-era inscriptions are framed within a tabula ansata, a framed and inscribed oblong plaque with dovetail handles. The name of the ship’s owner (ναύκληρος), captain or sailor is often followed by the vessel’s port of departure (Figure 6).17 Most ports are located in the Aegean and on the shores of Ionia. Τhree of these inscriptions speak of ships or sailors from Ephesus18 ; two more from Smyrna (Figure 7), 19and another two from Miletus.20 Other places of origin of seamen or ships’ ports of departure are mentioned in the inscriptions include E.g. IG V (1): 1547: Εὔπλοια τῷ Ἀσκλ- / ηπιῷ, τ̣ῷ Ἐφεσίῳ, / τῷ Φιλαδέλφω / οὗ προναυκλ- / ηρεῖ [Ῥ]ητορικός / [εμ]ν[ή]σθ̣η. Also Valmin 1929: 155 no. 40. Μartinis 1934, 192 no. 6. Sandberg 1954, 13 no. 10. 18  E. g. IG V (1): 1545: [Eὔ]πλ̣οι-/ [α] τῷ [Ἀ]πελ-/ [λᾷ] Ἐφ̣[ε]σί[ῳ]/ Λεοντίου. See also Strijd 1904: 368 no. 21. Sandberg 1954: 11 no. 8. 19  E.g. IG V (1) : 1550: Εὔπλοιά σοι εὐτυχής, /Διόσκοροι Σμυρναῖοι. 20  E.g. IG V (1) 1553: Eὔπλοια[ν ὀπ]άζῃ Ἀθηνᾶ Καρ̣ίν[ῃ]/ Γελλίαι ταῖ[ς] Μειλησίαι[αι]ς. See also Strijd 1904: 368 no. 22. Sandberg 1954: 24-25 no. 16. 17 

certain Kanavos from Valta, used dynamite to blow up the inscribed rocks, in the hope of finding hidden treasures (gold sovereigns). This resulted in the loss of a number of inscriptions since then, while others can only be read on fragments of rocks. See Lyritzis 1973:110. 14  EFAMES = Ephorate of Antiquities of Messenia. Greek Ministry of Culture and Sports. 15  IG V (1): 1544 . Strijd 1904: 366 no. 8. Sandberg 1954: 11 no. 7. 16  Valmin 1929: 154 no. 32. Μartinis 1934: 191 no. 1. Sandberg 1954: 28-29 no. 23.

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Figure 2. View of the island of Prote and cape Marathos from Gargaliani. Photo by S. Fritzilas. EFAMES.

Figure 3. Island of Prote (NE coast). The Inscriptions’ Bay. North rock. Photo by S. Fritzilas. EFAMES.

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Figure 4. Island of Prote (NE coast). The Inscriptions’ Bay. South rock. Photo by S. Fritzilas. EFAMES.

Figure 5. Prote.The Inscriptions’ Bay. North rock. Inscription IG V (1) : 1544. Photo by S. Fritzilas. EFAMES.

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Figure 6. The Inscriptions’ Bay. South rock. Inscription IG V (1) : 1547 . Photo by S. Fritzilas. EFAMES.

Figure 7. Prote. The Inscriptions’ Bay. North rock. Inscription IG V (1) : 1550. Photo by S. Fritzilas. EFAMES. Megara (Figure 8),21 Athens,22 Mytilene,23 Assos,24 Lebedos25 and

Seleucia.26 Sicily,27 Samos,28 Nisyros and the Rhodian city of Kameiros29 are also attested. A few Christian inscriptions are also included, with rock-cut crosses prominently displayed. Of

IG V (1): 1533: Γανπότας / καλός Μhεγαρεύς. IG V (1): 1542: εὔπ̣λεα τῷ Ὑψι[κλ]ῇ τ̣ῷ Ἀθηναί[ῳ]. See also Strijd 1904: 367 no. 15. Sandberg 1954: 9 no. 5. 23  IG V (1):1539: εὔπλοι- / α Θεκτί-/ τῳ ῷ / ι[λ]ησῳ. See also Strijd 1904: 366. no. 9. Sandberg 1954: 8 αρ. 2. 24  IG V (1) 1548: Εὔπλεα τοῖ[ς] / Διοσκόροι[ς] θ̣ε[οῖ]-/ ς τοῖς Ἀσσίοις / Εὐχ(ε)ίρου [κ]αὶ See also Strijd, 1904, 366 no. 11. Sandberg 1954, 21 no. 11. 25  IG V (1) 1538: εὐτυχῆ, Θεόδο[τε] / Λε[β]έδιε, ὁ θεὸς / εὔπλοιάν σοι δοί[η] / διὰ παντός εὐτυχῆ. See also Strijd 1904: 365 no. 6. Sandberg 1954: 6 no. 1. 21  22 

IG V (1): 1537: [Εὐ]θύφιλος Σεράπιδος / Σελευκ[-]εύ[ς]. See also Strijd 1904: 363-4, no. 3. 27  IG V (1): 1556: Σικελίας. See also Strijd 1904: 368 no. 19. Sandberg 1954: 26 no. 19. 28  Valmin 1929: 153 no. 26: Λεύκιος ὁ Σά- /μιος ἀνέβη / ὁ Θυελλέσιος. Martinis 1934: 193 no. 8. 29  Valmin 1929: 154 no. 31:Εὔπλοια τῇ Ἀθηνᾷ [καὶ]/ Ἑστία ἐν Καμίρῳ/ τῴ / Σ[ω]σικλέους Νισυρίου. Sandberg 1954: 27-28 no. 22. 26 

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Figure 8. Prote. The Inscriptions’ Bay. North rock. Inscription IG V (1) : 1540, 1533, 1534. Photo by S. Fritzilas. EFAMES. particular interest is an early Byzantine inscription praying for the safe voyage of a ship out of Cyprus called Maria.30 Other inscriptions, usually the earlier ones, contain only personal names. There are also some graffiti and monograms.31 It is obvious that passing sailors who found shelter in the cove of Grammeno would carve their invocations for a fair voyage on the rock surface. Some inscriptions preserve the travelers’ names, such as Kleiton (Figure 8),32 Αlexandros,33 Hermodoros34 and Galatias.35

continued their course to the rest of the Cyclades islands and the cities of Asia Minor, since the cove was completely protected from the prevailing northerlies of the Aegean. It was then that the travelers would pray to the gods either to thank them or to appeal to them for a safe passage. The inscriptions carved on the smooth rock surface contain supplications to sea deities, such as the Dioscuri, Isis, Serapis, Helios and Asclepius.37 More ‘fair voyage’ inscriptions have been found in Alyki, on the island of Thasos.38 Excavations in the eastern cove have unearthed a sanctuary consisting of two buildings with similar floor plans, founded in the middle of the seventh century BC.39 Column bases and stones were inscribed with wishes for safe voyage for vessels bearing the names of divinities, for instance Serapis, Heracles, Poseidon, Asclepius;40 these ships would have come to the tip of the peninsula, most probably to take on cargoes of marble.41 One of the aforementioned invocations is addressed to the Savior Gods (Θεοί Σώζοντες), none others than the Dioscuri, patrons of seafarers.42

Similar inscriptions containing pleas for fair voyage have been found, carved on rocks, in other Greek islands as well, such as Alyki on Thasos and Grammata on Syros. Both sites offer safe anchorage to vessels. In the middle of the Aegean Sea, at Grammata Bay on the island of Syros, one may find wishes for fair voyage inscribed by seamen from various parts of the Mediterranean.36 Grammata Bay provided sailors with a safe haven when the elements were inclement. There they would wait for the weather to change before they

In the case of Prote, archaeological research has yet to provide evidence pointing to the existence of a cult center there in Antiquity. Strijd was the first to put forward the hypothesis that a similar ancient sanctuary must have

30  IG V (1): 1554: ☩ Eὔπ̣οια πλο[ίῳ] / Μαρία Ἀνι […] / […] εους βεά/ τῷ [καὶ] / πᾶσι Κυπρ[ίοις]. See also Strijd 1904: 368 no. 20. Valmin 1929: 155 no. 39. Martinis 1934: 192 no. 5. Sandberg, 1954: 25 no. 17. 31  On the study of ancient graffiti, see also Felle and Rocco 2016. 32  IG V (1): 1534. LGPN III A: 245 s.v. Kλείτων (1) (2nd cent. BC.) 33  IG V (1): 1535. LGPN III A: 24 s.v. Ἀλέξανδρος (161). About 1st cent. AD. 34  IG V (1) : 1543. Sandberg 1954: 9 no. 6. LGPN III A: 154 s.v. Ἑρμόδωρος (3) 35  SEG XI 1009. LGPN III A: 96 s.v. Γαλατίας (1) (3rd cent. AD.). 36  Stephanos 1875: 70-92.

Stephanos 1875: 78-83. Hicks 1887: 409-433. Servais 1980. 40  Sandberg 1954: 35-36, nos. 39-41. 41  Grandjean and Salviat 2000: 164, 168. 42  Bernard and Salviat 1962: 609-611. 37  38  39 

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Figure 9. Prote. The Inscriptions’ Bay. North rock. Inscription IG V (1) : 1538. Photo by S. Fritzilas. EFAMES. existed on Prote,43 dedicated to the god to whom one of the Roman-era inscriptions refers, preserving the expression: The God may always give you ‘fair voyage’ (ὁ θεὸς εὔπλοιάν σοι δοίη διὰ παντός) (Figure 9).44 This phrase does not appear to be a clear indication of the existence of a sanctuary at the Grammeno site of the island of Prote, one dedicated to some sea goddess, for instance Aphrodite Euploia (Smooth-Sailing) .45 Nevertheless, one could conclude, with the help of these inscriptions, that the aforementioned plea for a fair voyage in which the seafarer asks the god for help is probably a clear allusion to the dominant male patron deity of mariners in Roman times – the Egyptian god Serapis.

name attested in Greek inscriptions from the fourth century BC onwards and connected to her role in navigation, her cult as protector of mariners has clearly subsided in Roman times, supplanted by the Egyptian gods Isis and Serapis.49 Almost the exact same nautical deities that appear on the Prote texts are also attested in the euploia-inscriptions found in another bay called Grammata, at the foot of the Acroceraunian Mountains, to the west of Aulon, the modern Albanian city of Vlorë.50 The site lies directly on the maritime route linking the shores of ancient Epirus to those of the Southern Italian peninsula. The earliest inscriptions date from the third century BC; some mention the Dioscuri, those dating from medieval times refer to the Lord, while one inscription bears witness to the presence of the Byzantine emperor John V Palaiologos in the area. The location of these inscriptions shows that ships preferred to follow this much safer sea route.

Two further inscriptions found on Prote clearly refer to votaries of Serapis who left behind a record of their wishes carved on the island’s cliffs. The first refers to the fair voyage (εὔπλοια) of the Serapitai (Figure 10),46 a guild of worshippers of Serapis the savior god of Hellenistic Egypt, whose fame was carried throughout the Mediterranean by Rome. A philosarapis (= ‘lover of Serapis’), whose name has not been preserved in its entirety,47 is mentioned in a second rock-cut inscription found on site at Grammeno. Finally, yet another inscription from the island of Prote refers to the divine pair of the Dioscuri: Διόσκουροι εὔπλειαν.48 Although Euploia was one of the most common epithets under which Aphrodite was worshipped, a

All savior-gods attested in the euploia-inscriptions dating from the Roman era, both those of the Ionian island of Prote and the ones found on the islands of Syros and Thasos in the Aegean,51 as well as those of the Acroceraunian Mountains near the Adriatic, are depicted on a group of boat-shaped lamps. The most famous lamp of this group is the excellently preserved example from Pozzuoli, in the British Museum.52 It

Strijd 1904: 365. Strijd 1904: 365 no. 6. IG V (1): 1538. Sandberg 1954: 6 no. 1. For Aphrodite and the sea: Demetriou 2010: 72 ff. 46  IG V (1): 1543:εὔπλοια τῶν [..]- / οσεράπιτ ῶν / Ἑρ[…] / τῷ Ἑρμ[ο] δώ- / ρου τῷ εὐ̣τ̣υχῇ. Also Strijd 1904: 367 no. 12. Valmin 1929: 154 αρ. 35. Martinis 1934, 191 no. 3. Sandberg 1954, 9 no. 6. LGPN III A, 154 s.v. Ἑρμόδωρος (3) imp. 47  IG V (1): 1537: [Εὐ]θύφιλος Σεράπιδος Σελευκ[-]εύ[ς]. 48  IG V (1):1551. Strijd 1904: 368 no. 23. Sandberg 1954, 22 no. 14. Zunino 1997: 191 ff. no. T 6. 43  44 

Michaelidès 2009: 204 ff., 212 ff. CIG: 1824-1827. CIL III: 582-584. Heuzey and Daumet 1876: 406-408. Patsch 1904: col. 89-95. Lambros 1915: 25-35. Drini 1999: 121-126. Hajdari et alli 2007: 353-394. 51  Also Chapouthier 1935, 376-381. 52  London, British Museum, inv. no. 1862,0414.1. 70-120 (circa). Walters 1914: 390; Bailey 1988, 328-329, 339-340 Q2722, pl. 80, figs. 20, 28, 138, 151.

45 

49  50 

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Figure 10. Prote. The Inscriptions’ Bay. North rock. Inscription IG V (1) : 1543. Photo by S. Fritzilas. EFAMES. is decorated with a variety of deities, patrons of navigation. A tabula ansata bearing the Greek world euploia meaning ‘a good voyage’ divides the central rectangular panel into two. In the top panel, one of the Dioscuri (Castor or Pollux), holding a spear stands next to his horse. In the lower one, a grotesque figure interpreted as a Kabeiros, stands in front of a furnace. In a triangular panel in the stern of the ship are the figures of Serapis, holding a steering –oar being crowned by Isis. Isis holds a cornucopia in her left, and with her raised right touches the head of Serapis53 The worship of Egyptianorigin gods in Greece reached its peak in Hellenistic and Roman times.54

Italy and Sicily.55 This maritime route was for the most part a coastal one, as it paralleled the shores of Western Greece and Italy.56 In my opinion, at least one hundred euploiainscriptions carved by seamen on the northwest edge of the Greek world, are related to the first ancient sailing route. The second maritime route, which is more closely related to the island of Prote, was much shorter. It was a thoroughly seagoing one, since it involved sailing across the open sea. Originating in the Southwestern Peloponnese, it reached the southeastern tip of Sicily and continued from there to South Italy. It has been noted that this shipping lane is aligned with the circle of latitude parallel to the Equator that passes through Syracuse, the Strophades (the islets of Arpyia and Stamphani) and on to the vicinity of Kyparissia, one of the major cities of the Western Peloponnese in Antiquity.57 Ancient authorities estimated the distance between Sicily and the Peloponnese to be 4,000 stadia as the crow flies, which translates into approximately 400 miles. According to Strabo (6.2.1) the Strophades islands lay 400 stadia to the westward of Kyparissia.

At this point, however, it should be noted that what is even more interesting in the case of the Prote ‘fair voyage’ inscriptions is that they are connected to the two main sea routes that originated in, or passed through, the Peloponnese and led to West Greece, Sicily and South Italy (Figure 11). Sailing across the Adriatic Sea has always been a difficult undertaking. One of these sea routes is specifically mentioned in historical sources, while the existence of the other can be inferred, in an indirect yet clear fashion, from ancient sources and archaeological data.

To my knowledge, no one has ever either correlated or stressed the connection between the epigraphic testimonies preserved in the two Grammata bays and the two muchfrequented points where ancient ships would usually change course. I believe that the two main shipping lanes to Sicily and South Italy can also be confirmed epigraphically. The fact that no other such ‘Grammata’ bays are attested on the shores of the Ionian Sea is remarkable (Figure 12). The euploia-

The first sailing route originated in the Northwestern Peloponnese, went up along the coast of Aetolia and Acarnania, crossed between Ithaca and Leucas, continued through the narrows separating Corfu from the mainland and, hugging the shores of Epirus, reached Aulon, where it would turn westwards, crossing the Strait of Otranto to reach South

On ancient sailing-routes see Αrnaud 2011:62-63. Thucydides 6.42.44. Strabo 7.5.10. Also Pierros 2014, 266-268. Thucydides 2.84, 6.88. Pausanias 4.23.1. Strabo 8.4.2. Xenophon, Oeconomicus 20.27. Pindarus, Pythian Odes 3.68-69, 3.134. Euripides, Phoenissae 208-212. Euripides, Electra 1347. Also Τhemelis 2010: 41 ff. Pierros 2014, 269-270. 55 

The Pozzuoli lamp has on its base the greek inscription ΛΑΒΕ ΜΕ ΤΟΝ ΗΛΙΟCΕΡΑ/ΠΙΝ. (‘Take me, the Helioserapis’). Helioserapis, used here as the name of the ship, was an amalgation of the names of the Greek god Helios, the sun, and Serapis. 54  Michaelidès 2009: 214 ff.

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53 

57 

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Figure 11. Island of Prote. The Inscriptions’ Bay. Provenances of ships and sailors. Created by S. Fritzilas. EFAMES.

Figure 12. The Inscriptions’ Bays in ancient Greece. Created by S. Fritzilas. EFAMES.

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inscriptions, the ones found on the Messenian island of Prote as well as those of the Acroceraunian Mountains, speak of the same maritime deities at the two dangerous spots where ships would venture into the deep waters of the Adriatic.58 Of course, perilous voyages also took place in the Aegean, for instance on the island of Syros, when ships would sail around Cape Caphereus (modern Cavo D’ Oro).

reign of Ptolemy IV Philopator (221-204 BC).66 The building complex dedicated to the Egyptian goddess dates from Roman times and Late Antiquity; it also includes cisterns for catching and storing rainwater linked to the initiation rites the worshipers of this Egyptian cult had to undergo. A marble headless statue of Isis nursing her child Horus was found in the underground water crypt.67 Various other scattered finds in the archaeological site also attest to the location of the Iseion.

Despite Nero’s impressive efforts (Suetonius, Life of Nero, 19), the Corinth Canal had not been excavated. Nevertheless, although beset by great distances and the dangers of sailing around the Peloponnese and across the Aegean, the volume of transportation of people and goods to Messenia and Western Greece via the Adriatic increases dramatically after 146 BC, when Roman citizens begin to settle in Greece.59

We should mention here the prominent marble statue of Isis Pelagia (mid-second century AD) which was placed in a niche of the Roman theater’s scenae frons, but could very well have been relocated there from the sanctuary of Isis and Serapis.68 The goddess is depicted as mistress of the οpen seas, standing upright, wearing a diadem on her head and striding to the right. She had her outstretched left foot on the prow of a ship and was grasping a now-lost billowing foresail with both hands, the goddess herself acting as the ship’s mainmast. It was mostly to this goddess of the open sea and navigation that the prayers in the rock-cut inscriptions of the Messenian island of Prote were probably addressed, but also to her companion Serapis and to the Dioscuri, whose cult was widely adopted and revered in the dangerous world of Mediterranean seafarers in Antiquity.69

Navigation flourishes in Roman times, thanks in no small measure to the decisive contribution of the Greek element. Rome’s growing alimentary and housing needs result in ships carrying not only commodities, but also a wide selection of quarried stone and lithic artifacts for the decoration or construction of various buildings. The need to transport these vast amounts of cargo boosted the evolution of shipbuilding and nautical technology, while it also resulted in the building of large ships with a displacement of upwards of 300 tons, although most vessels were smaller ones, displacing 50-30 tons on average.60 In tandem with the thousands of ships crisscrossing the Mediterranean in the Roman imperial period, however, there is also a spike in the number of shipwrecks, particularly from the first century BC to the first century AD,61 as is borne out by the dozens of piles of amphorae, anchors (some of them inscribed),62 as well as some works of art that never reached their destination, all of them ending on the bottom of the sea.

Acknowledgements I express my warmest thanks to the Organizing Committee, who took the initiative of putting together this congress in honor of Sir John Boardman. It was an exceptional honor to participate in a conference dedicated to the distinguished professor Boardman, a classical archaeologist who loves Greece and its classical culture. For many of us, his publications are still particularly instructive. A number of his monographs, especially those on vases and sculpture that have been translated into Greek and other languages, have served as invaluable academic textbooks.

But at the same time one notes a widespread proliferation of the cults of Egyptian gods and the Dioscuri as saviors of seafarers and patron deities of navigation.63 It is certain that, after the foundation of the city of Messene in 369 BC, Epaminondas saw to it that the anchorage at Kyparissia served as the Messenian capital’s port on the Ionian Sea. The sea surrounding the entire western and southern parts of Messenia brought the region in contact with the rest of the world of the Mediterranean and the Adriatic via the ports of Kyparissia, Pylos and Pharai (modern-day Kalamata), as well as through its islands, which became a hub of commercial transactions with cities and islands in Western Greece and Italy.64 Pausanias (4.31.10) also mentions statues of the Dioscuri in Messene, while it is no coincidence that the Messenian capital boasted a sanctuary of Isis and Serapis adjacent to the theater. There, to the south of the theater, recent excavations brought to light a huge vaulted subterranean construction in the form of the Greek letter Π surrounding the sanctuary dedicated to the cult of Isis and Serapis.65 The cult of Isis, the ‘Goddess of the Ten Thousand Names’ (μυριώνυμος), was most likely introduced by Messenian merchants during the

Abbreviations Armonia = Αρμονία. Eπιστημονικό περιοδικό σύγγραμμα (Αthens, 1900-1902). Bull Lund = Bulletin de la Societé Royale des Lettres du Lund. CIG = Corpus Inscriptionum Graecarum (Berlin 1825-1877) CIL = Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum (Berlin, 1863-]). Εnalia = Ενάλια. Ι.ΕΝ.Α.Ε. The Journal of the Hellenic Institute of Marine Archaeology. Et. Thas.= Études Thasiennes IG = Inscriptiones Graecae. IG V (1) = Kolbe, W. 1913. Prote. In IG V (1). Inscriptiones Laconiae et Messeniae: 309-311. Berolini: Reimer. LGPN III A = Fraser P. M. and E. Matthews 1997. A Lexicon of Greek Personal Names. Τhe Peloponnese, Western Greece, Sicily and Magna Graecia, Vol. ΙΙΙ Α. Οxford: Clarendon Press.

Fenet 2005: 47-48. Papageorgiadou-Banis 2009: esp. 193-195, 199-202, 204-208. 60  Simossi and Spondylis 2007: 60. 61  Parker 1992: 8-15. 62  Oliveri 2015: 54. 63  Torres Guerra 2013, 250 ff. 64  Themelis 2010: 41-49. 65  Themelis 2014: 63 fig.41. 58  59 

Themelis 2011a: 9 ff. Ancient Messene, Archaeological Museum, inv. no. 13545. Themelis 2011b: 106-108 fig. 17a-e. 68  Ancient Messene, Archaeological Museum inv. no. 12000.Themelis 2011b: 100-103 fig. 7-10. 69  Zunino 1997: 241-248. 66  67 

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Leake, W. M. 1830. Travels in the Morea, Ι, London: J. Murray. Liritzis, S. 1973. Ιστορία και αρχαιολογία της νήσου Πρώτης. In Platon 25: 88-119. Liritzis, S. 2013. Iστορική Γεωγραφία Περιοχής Γαργαλιάνων. Ιn Τh. – Ph. Liritzis (ed.), Iστορία των Γαργαλιάνων. Αρχαία Ιστορία. Τουρκοκρατία και Επανάσταση. Συλλογή Μελετών και Δημοσιευμάτων Σωτηρίου Θ. Λυριτζή: 55-83. Αθήνα: Aλφάβητο Α.Ε.Β.Ε. Martinis, N. 1934. H τριφυλιακή νήσος Πρώτη. Ιn G. Drosinis (ed.) Hμερολόγιον της Μεγάλης Ελλάδος,13: 185200. Αθήνα: Εκδότης Ι.Ν. Σιδέρης. McDonald, W.A. and G.R. Rapp Jr. 1972. Τhe Minnesota Messenia Expedition. Reconstructing a Bronze Age Regional Environment. Minneapolis: Τhe University of Minnesota Press. Meyer, E.1957. Prote. In RE XLV: 927-928. Meyer, Ε.1978. Messenien. In RE suppl. XV: 155–289. Michaelidès, D. 2009. A boat-shaped lamp from Nea Paphos and the divine protectors of navigation in Cyprus. In Cahiers du Centre d’ Etudes Chypriotes 39: 197-226. Nanetti, A. 2011. Atlante della Messenia Veneziana. Corone, Modone, Pilos e le loro isole / Atlas of Venetian Messenia. Coron, Modon, Pylos and their islands / Άτλας της Ενετικής Μεσσηνίας. Κορώνη, Μεθώνη, Πύλος και τα νησιά τους (12071500 & 1685-1715). Imola (Bo): Meduproject – Editrice La Mandragora. Oliveri, F. 2015.The Euploia anchor. In D. Burgersdijk et alii (eds.), Sicily and the sea: 54. Amsterdam: Allard Pierson Museum. Papageorgiadou-Banis, Ch. 2009. Roman trading and traders across the Ionian and Adriatic sea. The evidence from settlements and coins. In D. Andreozzi, L. Panariti and C. Zaccaria (eds) Acque, terre e spazi dei mercanti. Istituzioni, gerarchie, conflitti e pratiche dello scambio dall’ eta antica alla modernità: 193-208. Trieste: Editreg. Papandreou, G. 1902. H νήσος Πρώτη. (Εν τω νυν νομώ Τριφυλλίας) Ιn Armonia 5: 238-271. Parker, A. 1992. Ancient shipwrecks of the Mediterranean and the Roman Provinces. British archaeological reports. International series ; no. 580. Oxford (GB) : Tempvs Reparatvm. Patsch, C. 1904. Das Sandschak Berat in Albanien. In Schriften der Balkankommission, Antiquarische Abteilung, Kaiserliche Akademie der Wissenschaften ; 3. Wien: A. Hölder. Pierros, N. D. 2014. Περί των δύο γραμμών ναυσιπλοϊας Δ. Πελοποννήσου – Σικελίας στην αρχαιότητα. In Πρακτικά Δ´ Τοπικού Συνεδρίου Μεσσηνιακών Σπουδών. Καλαμάτα, 8-11 Οκτωβρίου 2010: 265-282. Αθήνα: Peloponnesiaka. Suppl. 31. Roebuck, C.A. 1941. A History of Messenia from 369 to 146 B.C. Chicago: The University of Chicago Libraries. Sandberg, Ν. 1954. Εύπλοια. Études épigraphiques, Göteborgs Universitets Ȧrsskrift 60 Göteborg: Wettergren & Kerbers Förlag. Servais, J. 1980. Aliki, I: Les deux sanctuaires. In Et. Thas. 9. Athènes : École française d’Athènes - Paris : Diffusion de Boccard. Shipley, G. 2004. Messenia. In: M. H. Hansen and T.H. Nielsen (eds.) Αn Inventory of Archaic and Classical Poleis: 547568. Oxford: University Press. Stephanos, K. 1875. Επιγραφαὶ της νήσου Σύρου το πλείστον ανέκδοτοι. Αθήνα: Τύποις Αδελφών Βαρβαρρήγου. Simossi, A. and E. Spondylis 2007. H ναυτιλία κατά τους Ρωμαϊκούς χρόνους, Εnalia Χ: 58-63.

Parnassos = Παρνασσός. Φιλολογικός Σύλλογος Παρνασσός (Αthens 1877-]) Peloponnesiaka = Πελοποννησιακά. Εταιρεία Πελοποννησιακών Σπουδών (Athens, 1956-]). Platon = Πλάτων. Δελτίον της Εταιρείας Ελλήνων Φιλολόγων (Athens, 1949-]). Neos Hellenomnemon = Νέος Ελληνομνήμων (Athens, 19041930). RE = Real-Encyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissensschaft. SEG = Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum Bibliography Αrnaud, P. 2011. Ancient sailing-routes and trade patterns. In. D. Robinson and A. Wilson (eds), Maritime Archaeology and Ancient Trade in the Mediterranean: 61-80. Oxford: Oxford Centre for Maritime Archaeology. Bailey, D. M. 1988. A Catalogue of the Lamps in the British Museum. Vol 3 Roman Provincial Lamps. London: British Museum. Bernard, P. and F. Salviat 1962. Inscriptions de Thasos. In BCH 86: 578-611. Bölte, F. 1957. Prote in RE XLV: 925-927. Chapouthier, F. 1935. Inscriptions antiques gravées sur le roc dans le golfe de Mirabello (Crète). In BCH 59: 376-381. Demetriou, D. 2010. Tῆς πάσης ναυτιλίης φύλαξ: Aphrodite and the Sea. In Kernos 23: 67-89. Dimakis, P. 1984. Η Πρώτη. H μικρή ιστορία ενός έρημου νησιού. In Πρακτικά Β´ Τοπικού Συνεδρίου Μεσσηνιακών Σπουδών. Kυπαρισσία 27-29 Νοεμ. 1982: 44-54. Αθήνα: Parartima. Peloponnesiaca 15. Drini, F. 1999. Les inscriptions de Grammata. Ιn L’Illyrie méridionale et l’Epire dans l’Antiquité, Actes du 3e Colloque international de Chantilly (16-19 octobre 1996) réunis par Pierre Cabanes: 121-126. Paris: De Boccard. Felle, A. E. and A. Rocco. 2016. Off the beaten track. Epigraphy at the Borders. Proceedings of the VI Eagle International Event (2425 September 2015, Bari. Italy). Oxford: Archaeopress. Fenet, A. 2005. Sanctuaires marins du canal d’ Otrante. In É. Deniaux (ed.), Le canal d’Otrante et les échanges dans la Méditerranée antique et médiévale. Colloque organisé à l’ Université de Paris X – Nanterre (20-21 novembre 2000):39-49. Bari: Edipuglia. Gisinger, F. 1951. Plotai (Πλωταί) in RE XXI: 463-467. Grandjean, Y. and F. Salviat, 2000. Guide de Thasos. École Française d’ Athènes. Sites et Monuments 3. Paris: De Boccard Édition. Hajdari, A., J. Reboton, S. Shpuza and P. Cabanes, 2007. Les inscriptions de Grammata (Albanie). In RÉG 120: 353-394. Heuzey, L. and H. Daumet 1876. Mission archéologique de Macédoine. Paris: [s.n.]. Hicks, E.L. 1887. Inscriptions from Thasos. In JHS VIII: 409-433. Jeffery, L.H. 1990. Local Scripts of Archaic Greece², ed. A. Johnston, Oxford: University Press. Kolbe, W. 1905. Bericht über eine Reise in Messenien. SBBer I, 53-63. Kyriakopoulou, H. K. 2014. Xωρογραφικά, ιστορικά, τοπωνυμικά των νησίδων της ΝΔ. Πελοποννήσου. Ιn Πρακτικά Δ´ Τοπικού Συνεδρίου Μεσσηνιακών Σπουδών. Καλαμάτα, 8-11 Οκτωβρίου 2010: 771-796. Αθήνα: Peloponnesiaka. Suppl. 31. Lambros, S. 1915. Γράμματα. Tο βορειοδυτικώτατον σύνορον τοῦ βασιλείου της Ἑλλάδος, Neos Hellenomnemon, 12: 2535.

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Strijd, J. H. W. 1904. Epigraphica. De inscriptionibus in insula Prote nuper inventis. In Mnemosyne 32: 361-369. Themelis, P. 2010. Mεσσηνιακή Κοινωνία και Οικονομία. Αθήνα: Εκδόσεις Μίλητος. Themelis, P. 2011a. Alexandria-Messene: Economic, Cultic and Artistic Relations. In K. Savvopoulos (ed.) Second Hellenistic Studies Workshop. Alexandria. 4-11 July 2010. Proceedings: 1-21. Alexandria: Alexandria Center for Hellenistic Studies. Themelis, P. 2011b. The Cult of Isis at Ancient Messene. In L. Bricault and R. Veymiers (eds) In Bibliotheca Isiaca II. Bordeaux: Ausonius Éditions. Themelis, P. 2014. Aρχαία Μεσσήνη. Αθήνα: ΤΑΠΑ (Tαμείο Αρχαιολογικών Πόρων και Απαλλοτριώσεων).

Torres Guerra, J. B. 2013. Plegaria e Himno Literario: Los Dioscuros en las Inscripciones de Prote, Alceo y dos Himnos Homéricos. Ιn J. Virgilio García and Angel Ruiz (eds.) Poetic Language and Religion in Greece and Rome: 250257. Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Valmin, N. 1929. Inscriptions de la Messénie. In Bull Lund, 1928-1929: 152-155. Valmin, N. 1930. Études épigraphiques sur la Messénie ancienne. Lund: Imprimerie Carl Blom. Walters, H.B. 1914. Catalogue of the Greek and Roman lamps in the British Museum. London: Trustees - British Museum. Zunino, M.L. 1997. Hiera Messeniaka. La storia religiosa della Messenia dall’età micenea all’età ellenistica. Udine: Forum.

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Naukratis - Yet Again1 Astrid Möller2 When1almost2exactly 30 years ago, Sir John Boardman agreed to supervise my studies of the material from Naukratis, the archaeological part of the work seemed to have been already done: the American rescue survey and excavation that had taken place between 1977 and 1983 had been recently published,3 and the material from the old excavations of 1884 to 1903 lay well stored in the British Museum and other collections. At that time, the site of Naukratis was lost to us, being covered by a lake, and nothing more remained to be done – or so it seemed in those days. It was therefore only natural that I attempted to give a synthesis of the literary and archaeological evidence. Moreover, I was convinced that the phenomenon of Naukratis could be interpreted best by using the model of a port-of-trade as developed by Karl Polanyi.4

sixth to second centuries BCE have been disembedded from the bottom of the sea.11 The earliest Greek finds from ThonisHeracleion date to the late seventh century BCE,12 which makes it a parallel port to Naukratis at its beginning. Thus, Naukratis clearly cannot any longer be considered an isolated port-oftrade within the territory ruled by the Saïte pharaohs. In 2003, the British Museum, under the curatorship of Alexandra Villing, started a project to bring together all the finds from the old excavations at Naukratis and to reevaluate the results of the American survey and excavation. In addition, Alexandra Villing and her team began in 2012 the first of five seasons of fieldwork at the site of Naukratis.13 Due to the drying up of the lake once covering most of the old excavation area, it was possible to identify parts of the harbour structure to the west of the town towards the Canopic branch of the Nile.14 The so-called Great Temenos is now firmly identified as a sanctuary of Amun-Re that existed since the seventh century, along with an existing Egyptian town. The last fieldwork season in 2016 resulted in a date for the construction of the temenos wall of c. 630-500 BCE (Phase A).15

The different features which characterize a port-of-trade I cannot explore here in detail.5 I would like, however, to point to the most important qualities a port-of-trade should have: it should lie isolated from the hinterland, and on the margin of a politically controlled territory. The external trade of the controlling power is normally concentrated in one port open to the external exchange partners. The restrictions and control exercised are supposed to protect the society and economy of the ruled territory providing the port-of-trade, while at the same time they simplify the collection of customs duties and taxes. At Naukratis, it looked as if the Egyptian pharaohs used the Greeks as their external traders.

Even more important is the British Museum project’s production of a much more colourful picture of ethnic diversity at Naukratis. A decisive turning point for my argument for Naukratis as a port-of trade is the confirmation of a far stronger Egyptian presence at Naukratis than I had assumed 20 years ago. The close co-operation with Egyptologists has yielded more Egyptian material than previously thought. Either it was not recognized as such, as was the case with many pottery fragments from the American survey, or it was discarded and confined to museum magazines as uninteresting for Egyptologists, as it came from the Late Period (Late Period Egypt has only recently received more attention from Egyptologists), or, being classified as ‘Erotica’, it was considered unfit for publication or display.16 This applies to hundreds of female figurines either naked or showing off their pudenda. They not only come from Naukratis, but are common in Egyptian towns of the Late Period (664-332 BCE), especially in the Nile Delta. They were used in rituals of fertility, specifically those conducted during the annual Nile inundation to celebrate the procreation of Horus by Isis and Osiris. The fact that we find such figures at Naukratis has to be taken as an indication of the practice of traditional Egyptian religion, either by a local Egyptian population or perhaps by acculturated Egyptianising Greeks.17

When my book appeared in 2000, Naukratis lay still isolated in the western delta of the Nile, and had a mainly Greek aspect together with some Cypriote and Phoenician traces. This perfectly matched the picture one gets from Herodotus’ account. His narrative concentrates entirely on the Greeks and their relation to the pharaoh Amasis.6 In 2001, however, Franck Goddio and his team discovered Thonis-Heracleion off the Egyptian coast.7 In 2006, awareness of this site was widely spread by the first of the spectacular exhibitions on Egypt’s ‘Sunken Treasures’ opening in Berlin.8 The excavators found remains of an Egyptian-style temple dedicated to AmunGereb.9 To the north, a sanctuary dedicated to Amun’s son Chōns, whom the Greeks called Herakles, was discovered.10 Up to now, over 700 anchors and more than 60 shipwrecks of the I am very grateful to the organizers for having invited me to this remarkable event. Paul Cartledge has been very generous in polishing my English and making me think about one of my assertions. 2  Freiburg i. Br. 3  For bibliography on this survey see Möller 2000: 93-94. Now generally for all bibliography concerning Naukratis: http://www. britishmuseum.org/research/online_research_catalogues/ng/ naukratis_greeks_in_egypt/bibliography.aspx . 4  Möller 2000: 19-25. 5  Cf. Möller 2013. 6  Hdt. II 178-179. 7  Goddio 2007: 69-129; Goddio, Masson-Berghoff 2016: 28. 8  Goddio, Clauss 2006; Goddio 2007. 9  Goddio 2015: 19-23. 10  U. Höckmann 2010; Goddio 2015: 23-28. 1 

The latest reconstruction of Naukratis by the Naukratis research team of the British Museum18 shows up a harbour Fabre 2015: 177. Grataloup 2015: 138-140. 13  Thomas, Villing 2013. 14  Thomas, Villing, et al. 2014; Pennington, Thomas 2016. 15  Thomas, Villing, et al. 2016: 9. 16  Villing, Thomas 2016: 26. 17  Thomas 2013-2015. 18  Goddio, Masson-Berghoff 2016: 44. 11  12 

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town with both Greek and Egyptian temples containing dedications and products revealing a mixture of diverse cultural origins, Greek, Near Eastern and Egyptian (e.g., the mixed-style faience figures).19 The impression of an isolated Naukratis – isolated not so much from the world around Egypt as from contact with Egyptians – is thus difficult to maintain. The port-of-trade-model which I used to understand the phenomenon of Naukratis in Egypt has also to be adjusted, especially its essential feature of isolation from the surrounding culture. Neither does Naukratis seem to have been an isolated Greek trading place nor can its singularity in the western Nile delta be maintained. The discovery of Thonis-Heracleion on the Egyptian coast furthermore raises some questions about the way Naukratis and this newfound location of Greek presence in Egypt interacted, as well as about the role both sites played within the controlling Egyptian political and economic system.

was laden with natron on which duty was paid. Perhaps, as Alexandra Villing conjectured, natron might not have been the only product being carried back. It was possibly merely the only export product that was taxed and therefore recorded.24 Historical natron consisted mainly of a kind of soda ash (sodium carbonate decahydrate) and nearly a fifth of baking soda (sodium bicarbonate). It was widely used in body hygiene: mixed with castor oil as soap or undiluted as toothpaste, and as antiseptic for small wounds. In Egypt, the mineral was used during mummification ceremonies, because it absorbs water and behaves as a drying agent. This makes it equally useful to dry and preserve fish and meat. Natron is also an ingredient of the colour ‘Egyptian blue’ and of Egyptian faience.25 If Naukratis was indeed the export harbour of the Elephantine palimpsest, from where did the natron come? Why did Naukratis appear to be such a convenient harbour? West of Naukratis lay the Wadi el Natrun or Natron Valley. Much closer to Naukratis, as mentioned by the Elder Pliny,26 there were also local natron-pits at Barnugi, ancient Nitria.27 This establishes a close association between Naukratis and natron, confirming the assumption that the harbour mentioned in the Elephantine palimpsest should be interpreted as Naukratis. Sir John Boardman hesitates to believe that it was this connection that caused the original decision to locate the terminal port for Mediterranean trade with Egypt at this place up the western navigable branch of the Nile, but it does not seem impossible to him.28

Thonis-Heracleion on the mouth of the Canopic branch of the Nile seems to have been the first place of contact for Greeks coming to Egypt. Their ships could then move on to Naukratis. As the Nile branches meandered, Olaf Höckmann has calculated that ships had to travel more than 100km upstream, resulting in a journey of at least seven days in antiquity.20 Recently, Benjamin Pennington and Ross Thomas have published results from auger core drillings and Electrical Resistivity Tomography, confirming that the Canopic branch of the river Nile flowed to the west of Naukratis throughout antiquity. At some time between 650 and 1000 CE or a little later, the main body of the river silted up after it had moved over 80m westwards during the settlement’s occupation. The Canopic river channel was large, probably some 200m wide and an average of 5m deep across its width. Given these dimensions, it is clear that the Canopic branch was deep enough and navigable all year round for sea-going ships with a draught of at least 2m. Thus, Pennington and Ross conclude that it must have been one of the widest and deepest river branches of the Nile Delta during Egypt’s Late Period. Hence, sea-going ships could reach Naukratis.21

Thus, Thonis-Herakleion on the coast was the port of first entry – perhaps used to take on fresh water and make dedications to thank the gods for a safe journey – before the ships sailed on to Naukratis. The close connection between both harbours is documented by the twin stelae of Nectanebo I from 380 BCE.29 The first pharaoh of the last Egyptian dynasty (30th) probably came to power with help from the priests of Neïth at Saïs. Therefore, he decided to enlarge their income from taxes and duties levied on imported goods from ThonisHeracleion and from a trade tax on products from Naukratis. He promised one tenth of the gold, silver, timber, processed wood and of all other goods coming from the Mediterranean Sea via Thonis. The products from Naukratis are not specified. The text tells us that similar regulations existed earlier. Since when both places were regarded as belonging together, and in which way, we cannot tell as yet.

The situation of two harbours on the same branch of the Nile raises the question ‘Why Naukratis?’. Why was there a need to build harbour structures and install an emporion so far inland, just at this particular site on the Canopic branch? It was Sir John Boardman – in whose honour we convened under the auspices of the Calouste Gulbenkian Foundation – who asked this question in his latest (as far as I could discover) publication on Naukratis in 2013.22 He seeks the answer in the so-called Elephantine palimpsest.23 This re-used papyrus found at Elephantine gives the record of ships coming and going from Ionia and Phoenicia, altogether 42 ships, during the sailing season of 475 BCE. At that time, Egypt was part of the Persian Empire, and the record was written in its official language, Aramaic. Although the record was found far away in Upper Egypt, there can now be little doubt that the harbour to which it pertains is likely to be Naukratis. Imports consisted of diverse products: gold, silver, and manufactured goods especially of wood. Every Ionian ship leaving the harbour, however,

Given these new insights yielded by archaeology, Herodotus’ account of Naukratis looks even more coloured by the interests of the Greeks living at Naukratis. How then should we understand Herodotus in light of the existence of a harbour on the Mediterranean coast? When talking about Naukratis, he maintains that in olden times this was the only emporion in Egypt.30 He knows, however, a story about a place where the Canobic branch of the Nile meets the coast. There, AlexandrosParis was cast up after having abducted Helen from Sparta. Villing 2013-2015: 6. Nicholson, Shaw 2000: 105. 109. 185-187. 373. 384. 663-668. 26  Plin. NH 31, 46. 27  Wilson 2007. 28  Boardman 2013: 267. 29  Bomhard 2012. 30  Hdt. II 179. 24  25 

Webb 2013-2015. O. Höckmann 2008-2009: 112. 21  Pennington, Thomas 2016. 22  Boardman 2013. 23  Yardeni 1994. 19  20 

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This place was protected by a guardian called Thonis.31 But Herodotus does not connect the two places. Does he therefore give us only the propaganda of the Naukratites, who magnified their importance by telling Herodotus that once theirs had been the only emporion in Egypt? This formulation about ‘in olden times’ seems suspicious. It is easy enough to tell a story about the old times. But why did Herodotus not add a remark about the present state in his own day? A similar question concerns why he attributed the donation of Naukratis to Amasis, although archaeologically we can date the earliest finds to the period of Psammetichos I.32 Every historian is only as good as his sources, and this applies to the Father of History too. Herodotus most likely had at his disposal information distorted by the interests of the Naukratites as well as by his own ideas about a philhellenic pharaoh Amasis.

Goddio, F., M. Clauss (ed.) 2006. Ägyptens versunkene Schätze. Ausstellung 13. Mai bis 4. September 2006 im Martin-GropiusBau. München: Prestel. Goddio, F., A. Masson-Berghoff (ed.) 2016. Sunken Cities. Egypt’s Lost Worlds. The BP Exhibition at the British Museum London from 19 May to 27 November 2016. London: Thames & Hudson. Grataloup, C. 2015. Thonis-Heracleion Pottery of the Late Period: Tradition and Influences. In D. Robinson and F. Goddio (ed.) Thonis-Heracleion in Context: 137−160. Oxford: Oxbow Books (OCMA Monograph 8). Höckmann, O. 2008−2009. Griechischer Seeverkehr mit dem archaischen Naukratis in Ägypten. In Talanta XL−XLI: 73–135. Höckmann, U. 2010. Heracleion, Herakles and Naukratis. In D. Robinson and A. Wilson (ed.) Alexandria and the NorthWestern Delta. Joint Conference Proceedings of ‘Alexandria: City and Harbour’ (Oxford 2004) and ‘The Trade and Topography of Egypt’s North-West Delta, 8th century BC to 8th century AD’ (Berlin 2006): 25−34. Oxford: Oxbow Books (OCMA Monograph 5). Möller, A. 2000. Naukratis. Trade in Archaic Greece. Oxford: University Press. Möller, A. 2013. Port of Trade. In The Encyclopedia of Ancient History. Published Online: 26 OCT 2012 http://www. encyclopediaancienthistory.com. Nicholson, P. T., I. Shaw (ed.) 2000. Ancient Egyptian Materials and Technology. Cambridge: University Press. Pennington, B. T., R. I. Thomas 2016. Paleoenvironmental Surveys at Naukratis and the Canopic Branch of the Nile. In Journal of Archaeological Science: Reports 7: 180–188. Thomas, R. I. 2013−2015. Egyptian Late Period Figures in Terracotta and Limestone. In http://www.britishmuseum. org/pdf/Thomas_Egyptian_figures_final.pdf Thomas, R. I., A. Villing 2013. Naukratis Revisited 2012. Integrating New Fieldwork and Old Research. In British Museum Studies in Ancient Egypt and Sudan 20: 81–125. http://www.britishmuseum.org/research/online_ journals/bmsaes/issue_20/thomas&villing.aspx Thomas, R. I., A. Villing, et al. 2014. The Harbour of Naukratis, ‘Mistress of Ships’. British Museum Naukratis Project’s third fieldwork season at Kom Ge’if, Egypt April – May 2014. (British Museum Naukratis Project fieldwork report 2014). https:// www.britishmuseum.org/pdf/Thomas_Naukratis_2014.pdf Thomas, R. I., A. Villing, et al. 2016. The Harbour of Naukratis, ‘Mistress of Ships’. British Museum Naukratis Project’s fifth fieldwork season at Kom Ge’if, Egypt April – May 2016 (British Museum Naukratis Project fieldwork report 2016). http://www.britishmuseum.org/pdf/Naukratis%20 fieldwork%20report%202016.pdf Villing, A. 2013−2015. Naukratis, Egypt and the Mediterranean World: A Port and Trading City. In http://www. b r i t i s h m u s e u m . o r g / re s e a rch / o n l i n e _ re s e a rch _ catalogues/ng/naukratis_greeks_in_egypt/introduction/ naukratis_a_city_and_port.aspx Villing, A., R. I. Thomas 2016. The Mystery of Naukratis. Revealing Egypt’s International Gateway. In Current World Archaeology 77: 22–29. Webb, V. 2013−2015. Archaic Mixed Style Faience Figures. In https:// www.britishmuseum.org/pdf/Webb_faience_figures.pdf Wilson, P. 2007. Damanhur. In https://community.dur.ac.uk/ penelope.wilson/Delta/Damanhur.html Yardeni, A. 1994. Maritime Trade and Royal Accountancy in an Erased Customs Account from 475 B.C.E. on the Ahiqar Scroll from Elephantine. In Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 293: 67–78.

There are of course still many other questions to be solved. The most relevant point to emerge from this case of applying scientific explanation to the critique and interpretation of historical evidence, as practised in 2000, is perhaps that empirical refutation remains one of the most effective methods by which theories can be criticized. New empirical findings have put into question the explanation of Naukratis as a port-of-trade. Although an ideal-type model cannot be falsified by empirical data, the user of the model may in light of new discoveries be obliged to make more or less substantial adjustments, and the case of Naukratis and ThonisHeracleion certainly makes them necessary. Of course, such modifications are likely to blur the heuristic quality of the port-or-trade model, without making it useless. More than 20 years ago, the essential characteristics of a port-of-trade as formulated by Karl Polanyi and further developed by the material from Naukratis seemed to produce a clear account of ‘Why Naukratis?’. Now, however, we have to look for additional explanations. Bibliography Boardman, J. 2013. Why Naucratis? In Ancient West & East 12: 265–267. Bomhard, A.-S. von 2012. The Decree of Saïs. Underwater Archaeology in the Canopic Region in Egypt. Oxford: Oxbow Books (OCMA Monograph 7). Fabre, D. 2015. The Ships of Thonis-Heracleion in Context. In D. Robinson and F. Goddio (ed.) Thonis-Heracleion in Context: 175−194. Oxford: Oxbow Books (OCMA Monograph 8). Fantalkin, A. 2014. Naukratis as a Contact Zone: Revealing the Lydian Connection. In R. Rollinger and K. Schnegg (ed.) Kulturkontakte in antiken Welten. Vom Denkmodell zum Fallbeispiel: Proceedings des internationalen Kolloquiums aus Anlass des 60. Geburtstages von Christoph Ulf, Innsbruck, 26. bis 30. Januar 2009: 27−51. Leuven: Peeters (Colloquia antiqua 10). Goddio, F. 2007. The Topography and Excavation of HeracleionThonis and East Canopus (1996−2006). Underwater Archaeology in the Canopic Region in Egypt. Oxford: Oxbow Books (OCMA Monograph 1). Goddio, F. 2015. The Sacred Topography of Thonis-Heracleion. In D. Robinson and F. Goddio (ed.) Thonis-Heracleion in Context: 15−54. Oxford: Oxbow Books (OCMA Monograph 8).

31  32 

Hdt. II 113-115. Cf. Fantalkin 2014 for a possible solution.

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The Tomb of the Roaring Lions at Veii: Its Relation to Greek Geometric and Early Orientalizing Art1 Gabriele Koiner2 The Tomb and its Lions 12

Lions were displayed in Bronze Age Aegean art7 such as on the grave goods and tomb stelae from the shaft graves8 or on the lion gate9 at Mycenae. The lions of the Lefkandi amphora10 follow these Aegean patterns: they represent long and boneless beasts, nevertheless near to realism regarding details. The lions on Minoan and Mycenaean seals show slender limbs and more pronounced proportions:11 they are heraldically arranged beside a Potnia or Potnios Theron, attack men or animals or are being hunted. Lions in Bronze Age Greece were partly modelled after Near Eastern patterns, although a lion population may have lived in Greece, thus, real lions may have served as models for artists in mainland Greece.12 There has been no lion population attested in Crete so far, but lions may have been brought there as ‘palace showpiece’13 or objects for hunting. In Bronze Age Greece and Crete, lions symbolized attendants to divinities and kings, with protective and deterrent character, but also game being hunted by aristocracy or simply a threat to human civilization.

The discovery of the Tomb of the Roaring Lions, or Tomba dei Leoni Ruggenti, in 2006 at Veii, displaying monumental wall paintings, caused much surprise in archaeology.3 The paintings, dated to the years after 700 BCE, are the earliest tomb paintings in Etruria. On the wall opposite the entrance to the chamber, i.e. on the main wall, three dog-like creatures are walking in procession to the left, confronted by one animal turned to the right. Above them are two rows of aquatic birds (Figures 1–2). The jaws of each animal are wide open with a thick triangular tongue protruding, obviously roaring, hence the name of the tomb. Their heads and hindquarters are huge, the legs thin with long claws. Their tails are up in the air, the tips curled up. The animals are painted in black outline, the eyes being rendered as black dots, the tongues filled with red colour. The animals were interpreted as lions. However, at the time of discovery they were rather taken for caricatures of lions, attributed to artists who had never seen these animals in nature.4 An analysis of their shape, though, shows that they have close comparisons to lions in Greek Late Geometric and Sub-Geometric art at the transition to the Orientalizing style. They share the big heads, the widely opened jaws, the protruding tongues, the small waists but huge hindquarters and their thin legs with claws. This close connection has already been noticed in archaeology.5

Early Iron Age Lions – the Near Eastern Models Early Iron Age societies in Greece, respectively in the Aegean, imported prestigious objects with lion depictions of different style. A 9th century Phoenician bronze bowl from the Kerameikos at Athens displays a lion type with sturdy body and jaws barely open. 14 A slender lion with big mane is slain by a four-winged demon on a Phoenician bronze bowl

Forerunners in the Bronze Age and Early Iron Age

Marinatos 1990: man not only as Master of Animals but also as Master of Men; Shapland 2010: no lion population in Crete but in Greece. 8  Mycenae, grave circle B, shaft grave Delta: golden sword handle with two lion heads: Marinatos 1986: 172, pl. 194 below; Mycenae, grave circle A, shaft grave IV: bronze daggers with gold and silber inlays: Marinatos 1986: 172, pls. XLIX, L, LI; shaft grave V, stele: Marinatos 1986: 164, pl. 168; golden reliefs from a box: Marinatos 1986: 176 pls. 220, 221 below. – Lion rhyton, shaft grave IV: Younger 1978, 286, fig. 1, no. 1. 9  Mycenae, lion gate: Marinatos 1986: 160, pl. 163. 10  Catling 1993: pls. 19-21. 11  Although the earliest type depicts lions with huge mane and sturdy body: Karytinos 2000: 128, fig. 3. – Boardman 1970: 58-59, pls. 86, 91, 104, 114, 116, 120, 121, 138, 153, 155, 157, 159, 169, 171, 178, 179, 182, 189, 191, 193, 206 (imported cylinder seal); Younger 1978; Pini 1985; Younger 1989; Sourvinou-Inwood 1989, 247, fig. 1 (‚Mother of the Mountains‘, Heraklion Mus. No. 141); Müller 2000; Aruz 2010. 12  The lion was hunted in Greece, most probably wild living, there was no need to import lions and keep them in corrals for aristocratic hunts as later on in the Assyrian empire, cf. also the myths on lions in Greece. Lion bones with cutting marks were found at Tiryns: Boessneck and von den Driesch 1979, 447-449; ead. 1981, 258; ead. 1990: 110-111. 13  Shapland 2010: 277 with reference to J. G. Younger, The Iconography of Late Minoan and Mycenaean Sealstones and Finger Rings. Bristol: Bristol Classical Press 1988, xi (non vidi). 14  Phoenician bronze bowl from the Kerameikos at Athens, late 9th cent. BCE: Akurgal 1980: 151, Abb. 39-40, Fig. 103: doglike lion with small head, mouth barely opened, no tongue. 7 

Depictions of lions were essential features in Near Eastern and Egyptian iconography, closely related to divinities and kingship due to the strength and hugeness of these animals.6

I would like to thank Alessia Argento (Villa Giulia Photo Archive), Sandra Gatti and Massimiliano Piemonte, Soprintendenza Archeologia, Belle Arti e Paesaggio per l’Area Metropolitana di Roma, la Provincia di Viterbo e l’Etruria Meridionale, for the photographs and permission granted, and Francesca Ceci, Sovrintendenza di Roma Capitale, for information and publications on Veii and the tomb. – This article is dedicated to John Boardman whose research has covered lions both on Mycenaean and Greek seal stones as on Geometric vases and in other arts. This article is meant to be but a modest contribution to the topic of Geometric lions. 2  Institut für Archäologie, Karl-Franzens-Universität Graz, Universitätsplatz 3, A-8010 Graz, Austria. 3  Naso 2008; Boitani 2007: 700–680 BCE; Ceci 2008: 35-36, fig. 36: 700– 690 BCE; Boitani 2010. –The tomb was looted by tombaroli and reported afterwards by one of them to police. It contained the ashes of a man, a woman and maybe a child. 4  Naso 2008: 18-19; Harrison 2013: 1102: maybe wolves as models due to a lack of lions in Italy. 5  Boitani 2007; Boitani 2010; Boitani et alii 2010. 6  A lion hunt on a vase from Tell Arpachiyah, Tell Halaf Culture (6th/5th mill.): Amiet 2001: 475, fig. 5, n. 12; Breniquet 1992: 72-75 figs. 1, 3. 1 

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Figure 1. Western or back wall of the chamber of the Tomb of the Roaring Lions at Veii (©Soprintendenza Archeologia, Belle Arti e Paesaggio per l’Area Metropolitana di Roma, la Provincia di Viterbo e l’Etruria Meridionale, Archivio fotografico, inv. no. 237578, photo Mauro Benedetti)

Figure 2. Western or wall of the chamber of the Tomb of the Roaring Lions at Veii, Detail of Figure 1

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from Kourion; two other, similar, lions on this bowl threaten human beings, their tongues hanging out of the mouth.15 A silver vessel from the Bernardini tomb at Palestrina features a similar shaped lion with protruding tongue, killing a man.16 Phoenician artists equally drew on the Egyptian lion type, e.g. on another bowl from the same tomb at Palestrina, rendering its characteristics: sturdy, small and well maned, but hiding its tongue.17 The felines of the Idaean shields are modelled after sturdy Late Hittite or Assyrian lions, some of them showing their tongues.18 Hanging out tongues are features of lions in Assyrian art of the 9th century, but are no longer found in the 7th century.19 Long tongues, hanging out between the two lower fangs, are equally characteristics of Late Hittite lions.20 These examples strictly differ in their realism from Greek Geometric lions but share the protruding tongue.

are geometricized, their rounded hind quarters, though, reflect some realism, such as rendered on lions attacking men or animals on Attic gold reliefs.25 Lions killing human beings were a common motif in Near Eastern,26 Phoenician27 and Egyptian art.28 The lion as a hunter of animals or even human beings, depicted alone, with a lion counterpart, or in a frieze with its prey,29 was depicted on vases, especially in Attica and Boeotia. In Attica, the Lion Painter30 and the Workshop of Athens 894,31 both LG IIB, ca. 720 BCE, produced lions with opened jaws, horrible teeth and popping out tongue.32 The Lion Painter painted his lions in the shape of the number eight such as the lions in the tomb at Veii, maybe developed out of the motif of the hourglass.33 Boeotia brought forth the Lion Group or A Group, dated to LG III/SubG, 710–690 BCE, depicting lions with sharp teeth and long, curved tongues.34 Late Geometric Attic pottery boasts lion friezes which seem to lack in Boeotia.35 Both the Workshop of Athens 894 and the Boeotian Lion Group share the curved jaws of the lions. Protoattic36 and Protocorinthian37 vessels continue to show the tongues

Greek Geometric Lions Early Greek society soon adopted the Near Eastern, Egyptian or even still existing Bronze Age models of lions. Greek colonies/ trading posts in the Near East, Tell Sukas and Al Mina, were situated near Late Hittite cities like Zincirli and Karkemish, and thus provided close contacts to Near Eastern iconography and ideas.21 Proof for the transfer of the Late Hittite lion motif to a Greek community in the Near East provides an ivory lion figurine with protruding tongue from Al Mina.22

that hark back to Bronze Age types – sphinxes, and lions attacking a warrior, an Orientalizing motif probably introduced long before.’ 25  Kunze 1931, 205, fig. 30; Ohly 1953: pl. 4.2; 48 fig. 25, pl. 13, no. A 11; Rombos 1988, 306, Table 44; 308-309, Table 45: lions attacking animals. 26  Lioness killing African boy, from Nimrud, London, BM 1954,0508.1: Barnett 1957: 190, cat. O.1, frontispiece; http://www.britishmuseum. org no. WCO23981 (27.10.2017). 27  Cauldron from Palestrina: Canciani and von Hase 1979: pl. 13.2. 28  Lion holding a Nubian’s head, from Piramesse: New York, MMA 1989.281.92: ca. 1279–1213 BCE, Ramses II, Egyptian blue, bone, gold: https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/544066 (27.10.2017); Settgast 1978: cat. 232; lions accompanying the pharao and biting enemies: Marinatos 1990: 145, fig. 4. 29  Lions and stags on Near Eastern seals: Frankfort 1939: 226 pl. 39h: Seals of peripheral regions from about 2800-1800 B.C., from Tell Judideih. – Late Cypriot II seal, 14th/13th cent. BCE, from Kourion, New York, Metropolitan Museum of Art 74.51.4316: Karageorghis et alii 2000: 67-68, cat. 107; https://www.metmuseum.org/art/ collection/search/321391 (17.10.2017). 30  Kotyle, Athens, Coll. Vlastos: Boardman 1998: fig. 75; Pitcher, London, British Museum: CVA British Museum 2: no. 39, pl. 25. 31  Bowl, Berlin: Coldstream 1998: 58-64, nos. 13, 21-2; CVA Berlin, Antikensammlung 10: pl. 39.2-6. – Bowl, Würzburg, Martin-vonWagner Museum: Borell 1978: no. 93, pl. 22. – Amphora, Essen, Folkwang Museum: Tölle 1963: 216-219, figs. 1-4; Borell 1978: 60. – Krater, Cambridge, Museum of Classical Archaeology: Tölle 1963: fig. 5. – Hydria Melbourne, National Gallery: Coulié 2013: fig. 192 (Analatos Painter). 32  Kantharos, Athens, Coll. Vlastos: Boardman 1998: fig. 74; Amphora, London, British Museum 1936: Arias 1962: fig. 10. – Bowl, Athens, National Museum: Boardman 1998: fig. 70. – Lions attacking animals: Rombos 1988: 305-315. 33  Already noticed by Boitani 2010: 31; Boitani et alii 2010: 21. 34  Amphora, Bonn Akademisches Kunstmuseum 1590: CVA Deutschland 100, Bonn, Akademisches Kunstmuseum 4: pls. 23-24; Ruckert 1976: 83, no. BA 9; Canciani 1965: 21, no. 13; 58-62, fig. 16. – Amphora, Paris, Louvre CA 824: Canciani 1965: 19, no. 3; 64, fig. 17; Ruckert 1976: 88, no. BA 35.– Athens, National Museum 256: Ruckert 1976: 100, no. HP 3; Canciani 1965: 40, no. 3; 52, fig. 6. – Amphora, Potnia Theron, Athens, National Museum 5893: Simon 1976: 42-43, pls. 16-17; Coldstream 1998: 207-208, pl. 45d. 35  Cf. n. 29 for the bowls at Berlin and Würzburg, the amphora at Essen and the hydria at Melbourne. 36  Krater, Athens: Cook 1934-35: pl. 42b; Krater, Munich, Antikensammlungen 6077: Coulié 2013: fig. 193. 37  E.g. aryballos of the Evelyn Painter, London, British Museum 1969,1215.1: Maggiani 2000: 257, fig. 2a-b; Schefold 1993: 137, fig. 136.

Since the Bronze Age lions roamed Greece, a fact which is also reflected in myths in which fights against lions take place, most famously, Heracles fighting the Nemean lion.23 Although living lions may have been known to Geometric vase painters, metal workers and other craftsmen, lions were not depicted as they actually looked like, but according to the graphic conventions of Geometric times. A Knossian LPG crater shows two lions tearing a man apart:24 their bodies, legs and paws Phoenician metal bowl from Kourion, New York, Metropolitan Museum of Art 74.51.4554: Markoe 1985, 177-178, cat. Cy8; Aruz et alii 2014: 159-160, cat. 52; https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/ search/243823 (28.10.2017). 16  Canciani and von Hase 1979: 34, no. 16, pl. 13.2; Brown 1960: 29, pl. 61d. Lions of Phoenician metal bowls are more slender than Late Hittite lions. Several other Orientalizing lion figures were found in the tomb; the tomb dated by Canciani und von Hase not later than 674 BCE. 17  Canciani and von Hase 1979: 38, cat. 19, pl. 16. Cf. the lion accompanying Ramses III in battle on his sepulchral temple at Medinet Habu: Marinatos 1990: 145, fig. 4. 18  Shields from the Idaean Cave: Kunze 1931: Beilage 1, pl. 6, no. 4; pl. 26 no. 10. 19  Cf. the lion hunt of Ashurnasirpal II at Nimrud: Budge 1914: pl. XII.2; Barnett 1960: pl. 26; Reade 1983: 28 fig. 33; the lion hunt of Ashurbanipal at Nineveh: Barnett 1960: 55, 60-62, 86, 89-95; Reade 1983: 54-59 figs. 77-78, 80, 83-87. Only dying or dead lions let their tongues hang out: Barnett 1960: 67-68, 70, 72-73. Cf. similar oldfashioned lions on glaze tiles from the Apadana of Artaxerxes II (405– 362 BCE) at Susa, Berlin, Staatliche Museen: Barnett 1960: IX. XI and XV (lion griffin). 20  Late Hittite lions, from Zincirli: von Luschan 1902: 224-226, figs. 125, 127; von Luschan 1911: 364-365, fig. 265, pl. LXIV; 369-372, fig. 269, pl. LXV; Jakob-Rost 1992: 220-221, cat. 163. – From Karkemish: Akurgal 1980: fig. 21a-b; Orthmann 1971: 40-41, pl. 32e. – From Sakçegözu: Akurgal 1980: fig. 23b. 21  Boardman 1981: 41-59; Riis 1982; Boardman 1990. 22  Akurgal 1980: 103, 181, Abb. 21c, Fig. 77. 23  Hdt. 7, 125 on a lion attack on transport camels of the Persian king Xerxes. 24  Heraklion Museum: Blome 1982: 93-94, fig. 21; Coldstream 1986; Boardman 1998: 16, fig. 23.2: ‘Later, though, there are monsters 15 

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standing out of the lions’ mouths, thus still adhering to the Late Hittite or 9th century Assyrian lion type.

Lyre-player Group or to the Late Hittite type with protruding tongue.51

Metal reliefs,38 e. g. Attic gold reliefs, Boeotian fibulae or tripod legs may have influenced vase painters.39 Several gold reliefs and a kantharos in Copenhagen, all depicting lion friezes, were found in the same tomb at the Kerameikos cemetery at Athens, thus attesting a very close connection of metal working and vase painting.40 Boeotian fibulae41 show lions with similar eight-shaped bodies and triangular tongues as in the Veii tomb. They also share the curved jaws with the lions produced by the Attic Workshop of Athens 894 and the Boeotian Lion Group. Even bronze figurines depict lions dating to the Late Geometric Period.42

The motif of the Geometric lion, however, was transported by Greek, maybe Euboean, artists to the western colony of Pithekoussai,52 where tomb no. 1000 of the San Montana necropolis yielded a vessel with a Geometric lion depiction.53 Mostly, it is believed that Boeotian tradition was prevalent at Pithekoussai though Attic ceramics is attested there as well.54 Such vessels may have served as models for local painters such as the Narce Painter. 55 He worked at Veii and is said to be the maker of a vessel in the Tomb of the Roaring Lions depicting a lion.56 Accordingly, it was proposed that he was the painter creating the wall paintings in the tomb.57 However, the analysis of his lions and birds contradicts this hypothesis, as they differ in shape and details. Popping out tongues are visible with the lion on the vessel of Pithekoussai tomb no. 1000 and on the lions by the Narce Painter, on the other hand, their tongues are much thinner and lack the triangular shape of the lions in the tomb. Their opened mouth is nearly circular, full of teeth, whereas the tomb lions have almost straight jaws equipped only with the fangs. The birds in the tomb, similar to the lions, were drawn in black or red outline, and some birds were rendered with a checkerboard.58 Likewise, the birds of the Narce Painter have a long, downwards curved tail, quite different from the rather compact bodies of the tomb birds. Therefore, the lions and birds must have been worked by a different artist, but also by one who relied on Greek or Greek inspired models or had been trained in a Greek workshop.

Attic, Boeotian and Protocorinthian vase painters were influenced by the Late Hittite43 and 9th century Assyrian lion type, to a certain extent also represented by Phoenician lion depictions.44 Characteristic of both is the long tongue hanging out of the mouth.45 Neither Late Bronze Age nor 7th century Assyrian lions show their tongues.46 On Attic and Boeotian vases, the tongue is placed in the middle of the opened mouth, standing out horizontally or curved downwards, in contrast to the sagging tongue on Late Hittite and Assyrian lions which lies on the lower jaw. On vases, the tongue is rather thin, painted often like a line, but, as on an Attic Late Geometric II stand,47 may have the triangular shape as with the lions in the Veii tomb. In Crete, the tongue is sometimes visible on lion protomes in ceramics48 and on bronze shields.49

Lions on or as Oriental artefacts were known in Etruria in the late 8th century, e.g. the bronze lion head situla, probably imported from Assyria, at the Villa Giulia Museum.59 Equally, the Barberini cauldron is said to be from the Near East.60 Within the first quarter of the 7th century, the lion became very popular in Etruscan art. Lions were worked on gold

Lions in Pithekoussai and Etruria Lion images belonged to the pictorial repertoire of grave equipment in the Pithekoussai necropoleis. The tomb Pithekoussai no. 325, containing the remains of two children and the famous scarab of Pharaoh Bocchoris (718/17 – 712 BCE), yielded a bronze handle with a lion figure.50 Several seals from tombs at Pithekoussai show lions belonging to the

Lions on seals: Buchner and Ridgway 1993: 52-53, no. 4, fig. 34 with goddess on its back; p. 53: claws as in Geometric art, hatched manes; 648-650, no. 11 tomb no. 662; 649-650 no. 11, pl. 187, CLXXXIV: girl with seal of the Lyre-Player Group with lion and bird on its back; Buchner and Boardman 1966: 11, 14 figs. 17-18. – Buchner and Ridgway 1993: 11, tomb no. 647, no. 15, fig. 17: tomb of a child with seal on its breast showing a lion with long claws, mane, opened mouth and protruding tongue. 52  Seals of the Lyre-player Group, their probable North Syrian or Cilician provenance and the transfer of motifs from East to West by Euboean colonists: Boardman 1981: 195-197; for the transfer of Near Eastern motifs and ideas from Pithekoussai and Kyme to Etruria: 234235. – Vases from Pithekoussai and Kyme bringing Geometric style to Etruria: Knauß and Gebauer 2015: 83-84. 53  Boitani 2010: 32, fig. 11; Neri 2010: 201, no. III.2.5; Boitani et alii 2010: fig. 5. 54  Attic Geometric LG IIB vessel in Pithekoussai tomb no. 129: Coldstream 1998: 84. 55  Further lions on an olla at Budapest: CVA Budapest, Musée des Beaux-Arts 2: pl. 2; Boitani 2010: fig. 12. – Another vessel from the neccropolis of Casal del Fosso, tomb no. 821: Boitani 2010: fig. 13. 56  Boitani 2010: 32, fig. 12; Boitani et alii 2010: 22, fig. 5. 57  Ambrosini 2013: 947, fig. 52.6. 58  Cf. the partridges on an Euboean krater from Pithekoussai: Buchner and Ridgway 1993: 698-699, pls. 238-239, CCVII-CCVIII. 59  From Veii, Casale del Fosso, tomb 876: Brown 1960: pl. 6b; Sciacca 2003, with many comparisons; Turfa 2012, 273-274. Assyrian influence in Etruria: Kilian 1977: 70-71, 98. 60  Akurgal 1961: 66-70, figs. 35, 41-42. 51 

Ohly 1953: pl. 4.2; 48, fig. 25, pl. 13; the metaphoric meaning of lions: Kunze 1931: 204-205; Hampe 1952: 31-32. 39  Cf. Matthäus 2003 for the metal reliefs as models for vase painting. 40  Ohly 1953: 17, pl. 18 (kantharos); pl. 4.2 (gold relief A 11); pl. 12.4 (gold relief A 20); Boardman 1998: Abb. 69; Coulié 2013: fig. 65. 41  Hampe 1952: fig. 14a; Ohly 1953: fig. 14. 42  Samos group, Samos, Museum B 190: Schweitzer 1969: fig. 186. – Group Ortiz Collection: Ortiz 1996: cat. 83. – Lion on a cauldron handle from Olympia, Br 11340: Willemsen 1957: pl. 54. – Two lions on a cauldron leg from Olympia, B 1730: Willemsen 1957: pl. 63. 43  Payne 1931: 67-68. 44  Such as the one on the bowl from the Tomba Bernardini from Palestrina, supra n. 15. 45  Lion hunt from Sakçegözü, lion with lifted paw as in Attic art: Akurgal 1980: fig. 23b. – Lions from the gate at Zincirli: Jakob-Rost 1992: 220-221, cat. 163. – Lion from Tell Halaf: Brown 1960: 4, 11, pl. 61a. – Akurgal 1980: 177. 46  But note Neo-Babylonian and Persian lions: supra n. 17. 47  Athens, Kerameikos Museum 407: Boardman 1998: fig. 66. 48  Kunze 1931: pl. 52a-b; Blome 1982: pl. 18.1; 102-103, fig. 24 (lion helmet on a mitra from Olympia). – Cf. a lion hunt on a sherd from Chios: Coldstream 1986 believes to see a tongue. 49  Kunze 1931: Beilage 1, pl. 6, no. 4; pl. 26, no. 10; lions attacking animals: 169-175; lions attacking men, according to Kunze an Egyptian motif: 204-208; Blome: 1982, 18-21, figs. 6-7. 50  Buchner and Ridgway 1993: 381, no. 11, pl. 123, CLVII. 38 

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jewellery from Vulci, Cerveteri and Palestrina,,61 in bronze62 and ivory,63 and rendered on ceramic vessels by the Gru Painter,64 the Heptachord Painter65 and others,66 later on painted in the Tomba Campana67 at Veii, in the Tomba dei Leoni Dipinti68 at Cerveteri, all representing the Orientalizing Late Hittite type with tongues hanging out, a feature also applied much later on leopards in the Tomba dei Leopardi69 at Tarquinia and even later on vessels in Hellenistic Spain.70

on Greek Geometric funeral vases. In Etruria, most striking comparisons to the birds of our tomb are the ducks in the slightly later Tomba delle Anatre or Tomb of the Ducks at Veii.74 Bird figures, though, are not novelties in Geometric Etruria and do not root only in Greek influence. Many of them were common grave goods in Villanova tombs already. Lions, in contrast to birds, – apart from mythical bird monsters such as the harpies – are known for the suddenness and ferocity of their attacks. Consequently, the lions on Greek vases and metal reliefs are said to be a metaphor of the suddenness and cruelty of death.75 In the Iliad, the heroes are compared with the strong, savage and murderous animal.76 Both aspects may be true: The tomb belonged to an aristocrat who had earned merits in battle or in civil life and had suddenly met his death.

Lions and Ducks – Rulership and Death Lions and birds are animals of gods and goddesses of nature, life and death and thus also companions in the tomb.71 This idea originated in the Near East and was probably absorbed by Greeks and Etruscans. Lions on Attic, Boeotian and Etruscan vases and on Greek seals are often accompanied by stars, commonly interpreted as fillers, though, in the Near East, the star and the lion were the symbols of Ishtar, the goddess of love, life, war and death.72 We may suppose that the star’s symbolic meaning was known in Greece and Etruria. Birds were believed to be mediators between earth and the netherworld and to be symbols of the journey to this realm.73 This impression is supported by the birds covering the space above the lions. Equally, they are a common feature

Beyond that, lions may have been the symbolic animal of Greek Geometric and perhaps also Etruscan kingship, rooting in a long tradition in Hittite, Egyptian, but maybe also Mycenaen royalty.77 Thus, Etruscan elites may have imported not only Near Eastern objects and pictures, but also adopted the ideas inherent. Several child tombs at Pithekoussai yielded seals with lions.78 Furthermore, tomb 1000 of Pithekoussai with its lion vessel belonged to a child, and a child was maybe buried in the Tomb of the Roaring lions. It seems that the motif of the lion was deliberately chosen also for children and perhaps not only reflected the cruel aspect of an early death, but also had a protective meaning, guarding the deceased child safely on its last journey.79

Lions with protruding tongue in Etruscan jewellery: Knauß and Gebauer 2015: 45-46, fig. 3.2; 351, cat. 49 (fibula from Vulci, 675–650 BCE); 78-80, fig. 3.62; 353, cat. 81 (golden case for seals from Vulci, 675–650 BCE); 79-80, fig. 3.63; 351, cat. 57 (fibula, 675–650 BCE); 7576, fig. 3.55, cat. 68 (bracelet with lion heads from Vulci, 700–650 BCE). – Fibula from the Tomba Regolini-Galassi at Cerveteri: von Hase 2000: 135, comparing to the lions of the Tomba dei Leoni dipinti at Cerveteri, 660–640 BCE. 62  Cauldron from Cerveteri, Musei Vaticani: Brown 1960: pl. IX, cf. also the lion protomes pl. VIIIa-c (unknown origin and Cerveteri). 63  Palestrina, Tomba Bernardini: Canciani and von Hase 1979: pl. 49, no. 60 (bronze lion heads); pl. 60.8 (handle with heraldically arranged ivory lions). – Palestrina, Tomba Barberini, ivory group: Brown 1960: pl. Ia; Clark 2007: 37-39, cat. 113. 64  Martelli 1987: fig. 33: amphora at the Museo Archeologico at Cerveteri: 700–675 BCE. 65  Cerveteri, Banditaccia necropolis, Tumulo del Colonello (VI), amphora, 700–680 BCE, Rome, Villa Giulia Museum (autopsy August 2017). – Biconical Krater, Cerveteri, Museo Archeologico: Martelli 1987: pl. 37. – Amphora Würzburg, Martin-von-Wagner Museum: Martelli 1987: pl. 38; Knauß and Gebauer 2015: 73, fig. 3.52. 66  Kotyle showing ‘quadrupedi’ with claws and mouth shut, from the Tomb of Bocchoris, Monterozzi necropolis, Tarquinia, 700–675 BCE: Tanci and Tortoioli 2002, 123-124, fig. 123, no. 214, RC 1940. 67  Steingräber 1986: 374-376, no. 176; Rizzo 1989: 109-111, fig. 55, pl. II; Leighton 2005. 68  Steingräber 1986: 261, no. 6, pl. 187; Rizzo 1989: 117, figs. 68-69; Sannibale 2013: 122-123, fig. 6.30. 69  Steingräber 1986: 319, no. 81, pl. 105; Rizzo 1989: 143, fig. 97, pl. XXXIV. – Cf. Steingräber 1986: pls. 23-24 (Tomba dei Baccanti), pl. 68 (Tomba del Fiore di Loto), pl. 86 (Tomba dei Giocolieri), pl. 97 (Tomba delle Leonesse). 70  Kalathos (sombrero de copa), from Cabecico del Tesoro, Verdolay, Murcia, AM 199: Koch and Willinghöfer 1998: 316, cat. 199. The lion shows surprising similarities to Geometric lions in its head, thin legs, claws, curled tail and stars (!), dated to 200–150 BCE. – Cf. an oinochoe from La Alcudia, Elche with Orientalizing griffins and a winged figure: Koch and Willinghöfer 1998: 263, cat. 39. 71  Cf. Boeotian LG amphora with Potnia Theron, Athens, National Museum 5893, ca. 680 BCE: Simon 1976: 42-43, pls. 16-17. 72  Compare the seal with Ishtar standing on a lion, a star above her, London, BM 1835,0510.2, Sargon II., 720–700 BCE: Frankfort 1939: 191, pl. 35a; cf. ivory seal from Mykonos, lion with protruding tongue, lying above a star: Boardman 1970: 135, pl. 213. 73  For the meaning of aquatic birds as guides to the netherworld: Boitani 2010: 33. 61 

Monumental Wall Paintings and Greek Art as Mediator of Orientalizing Motifs The paintings point to artists and patrons who were familiar with Greek iconography and also with eschatological concepts circulating in Late Geometric and Early Orientalizing Greece, brought to Etruria through trade, exchange, gifts, dedications Steingräber 1986: 374, no. 175, pls. 181-182; Rizzo 1989: 103-107, pl. 1, 63c, fig. 41; Leighton 2005; Ceci 2008: 36-37, fig. 37: 680–70 BCE. – Locally produced vessels with Greek Geometric inspired decoration in Rome, Villa Giulia Museum (autopsy 2017), from the necropolis of the Osteria, Poggio Mengarelli: krater of the Bottega dei Primi Crateri, 750–725 BCE, no. 19 in the show case; biconical urn, Bottega del Biconico di Vulci, 725–700 BCE, no. 1 in the show case. 75  Hampe 1952: 19-20, 31-33; Ohly 1953: 73-82, esp. 74; Canciani 1965: 52, n. 135; passage from life to death, lions as ‘bestie paurose e feroci’ living in the netherworld: Boitani 2010: 33; von Hase 2000: 141: ‘Begriffen wird der Löwe im Frühgriechischen als ein mit dämonischen Kräften ausgestattetes Wesen der Todessphäre, und wir zweifeln nicht daran, daß es im Etruskischen ganz ähnlich war.’; Nagy 2013: 1017-1018, fig. 56.1: ‘There is no narrative; the creatures represent living aspects of nature in an environment of death. They are perhaps meant to be apotropaic, or just symbolic of life.’ 76  Two lions kill a bull: Hom. Il. 18, 579-586; lions and human beings as foes: Hom. Il. 22, 262. 77  Jäckel 2006: 129 (Mycenae with reference to the lion skin of Agamemnon as symbol of Mycenean kingship: Hom. Il. 10, 3, 2324); Younger 1992: 182-188 pls. 69-70. – The lion accompanying the Egyptian king to battle: Jäckel 2006: 127; Marinatos 1990: 145 fig. 4. 78  Buchner and Ridgway 1993: tomb 662, 648-650, no. 11, pl. 187, CLXXXIV; tomb 647, 11, no. 15, figs. 17-18. 79  von Hase 2000: 141; Crummy 2010: 37 (bears as symbols of death, resurrection and protectors of infants on their way to the netherworld), 80 (lions as protectors and animals of Dionysos). 74 

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Bibliography

and other means. It represents the first Etruscan monumental wall painting with motifs and styles inspired by Greek art, thus being a reflection of lost Early Greek monumental paintings.80 Such paintings could have decorated walls inside buildings81 but also facades of houses or temples, both in Greece and Etruria. Geometric house models82 and Etruscan house urns83 reflect such lost paintings.

Maggiani, A. 2000. Aspetti del linguaggio figurativo tardoorientalizzante a Tarquinia: dalla metafora al simbolo. In F. Prayon and W. Röllig (ed.) Der Orient und Etrurien: Akten des Kolloquiums zum Phänomen des ‘Orientalisierens’ im westlichen Mittelmeerraum (10.-6. Jh. v. Chr.) Tübingen, 12.13. Juni 1997: 253-262. Pisa:  Istituti Editoriali e Poligrafici Internazionali. Akurgal, E. 1961. Die Kunst Anatoliens von Homer bis Alexander. Berlin: de Gruyter. Akurgal, E. 1980. Orient und Okzident. Baden-Baden: Holle 1966, Reprint. Ambrosini, L. 2013. The Etruscan painted pottery. In J. M. Turfa (ed.) The Etruscan World: 947. Abingdon: Routledge. Amiet, P. 2001. Le thème du ‘temple’ vide dans l’iconographie orientale. In B. Muller with D. Vaillancourt (ed.) Maquettes architecturales’ de l’antiquité : regards croisés (Proche-Orient, Égypte, Chypre, bassin égéen et Grèce, du Néolithique à l’époque hellénistique); actes du colloque de Strasbourg, 3 - 5 décembre 1998. Travaux du Centre de recherche sur le Proche-Orient et la Grèce antiques 17 : 473-483. Paris: Diffusion de Boccard.  Arias, P. E. 1962. A History of Greek Vase Painting. London: Thames and Hudson.  Aruz, J. 2010. Intercultural Styles, animal combats, and the art of exchange. In W. Müller (ed.) Die Bedeutung der minoischen und mykenischen Glyptik: VI. Internationales Siegel-Symposium aus Anlass des 50jährigen Bestehens des CMS Marburg, 9.-12. Oktober 2008. (Corpus der minoischen und mykenischen Siegel. Beiheft 8): 73-82. Mainz: von Zabern. Aruz, J., S. B. Graff and Y. Rakic. 2014. Assyria to Iberia at the Dawn of the Classical Age, New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Barnett, R. D. 1957. A Catalogue of the Nimrud Ivories with other examples of Ancient Near Eastern Ivories in the British Museum. London: The Trustees of the British Museum. Barnett, R. D. 1960. Assyrische Palastreliefs. Prag: Artia. Beyer, I. 1976. Die Tempel von Dreros und Prinias A und die Chronologie der kretischen Kunst des 8. und 7. Jhs. v. Chr. Berlin: Wasmuth. Blome, P. 1982. Die figürliche Bildwelt Kretas in der geometrischen und früharchaischen Periode. Mainz: von Zabern. Boardman, J. 1970. Greek gems and finger rings: early bronze age to late classical. London: Thames and Hudson. Boardman, J. 1981. Kolonien und Handel der Griechen vom späten 9. bis zum 6. Jahrhundert v. Chr. München: Beck. Boardman, J. 1990. Al Mina and history. In Oxford Journal of Archaeology 9: 169-190.  Boardman, J. 1998. Early Greek vase painting: 11th - 6th centuries BC; a handbook. London: Thames and Hudson. Boessneck, J. and A. von den Driesch 1981. Ein Beleg für das Vorkommen des Löwen auf der Peloponnes in ‘herakleischer’ Zeit. In Archäologischer Anzeiger: 257-258. Boessneck, J. and A. von den Driesch 1979. Ein Löwenknochenfund aus Tiryns. In Archäologischer Anzeiger: 447-449. Boessneck, J. and A.von den Driesch 1990. Die Tierreste von der mykenischen Burg Tiryns bei Nauplion/Peloponnes. (Tiryns XI): 110-111. Mainz: von Zabern. Boitani, F. 2007. Véies, La tombe des Lions Rugissants. In Les dossiers d’archéologie 322: 30-33. Boitani, F. 2010. Veio, la Tomba dei Leoni Ruggenti:  dati preliminari. In P. A. Gianfrotta and A. M. Moretti (ed.)

Finally, the wall paintings in the tomb attest Greek art as mediator of Near Eastern motifs prior to the broad stream of Orientalizing imports.84 Conclusion The Tomb of the Roaring Lions at Veii yielded the earliest monumental tomb paintings in Etruria, dated to the years after 700 BCE. The wall paintings show three roaring lions marching to the left, faced by a forth lion. Aquatic birds cover the place above the felines. Lions were living in Greece in the Bronze and Iron Age, but the motif of the roaring lion with protruding tongue is a Near Eastern one. It was adopted and adapted in Greek Geometric art throughout Greece, but especially in Attica and Boeotia. By imports of Greek objects, mostly vases, and travelling Greek artists, via mediation of the Greek settlements of Pithekussai and Kyme, Greek Geometric style was transferred to Etruria before the Orientalizing period. They influenced Etruscan paintings both on walls and ceramics. The Narce Painter, working at Veii, produced vessels with roaring lions, one of them found in the very Tomb of the Roaring Lions. However, this painter’s style is too different from the wall paintings as to attribute the murals to him. The symbolic meaning of the lions can only be guessed at, but lions in Near Eastern and Greek art are said to be companions of a goddess of nature, life and death, e.g. Ishtar, Potnia Theron and Artemis. Greek art and literature convey the ferocity and cruelty of lions bringing sudden death. Furthermore, their power and aggressiveness are equaled with virtues of heroes and kings. Their strength makes them excellent guardians for the tomb matching perfectly with the birds bringing the deceased to the netherworld. We may suppose that lions were also painted on temples and even houses both in Etruria and Greece. Thus, the tomb equally offers a small glimpse on lost Greek monumental painting.

Boitani 2007: 33 for pictura linearis with reference to Plin. nat. 35, 16. Painted walls supposed for dwellings: Sannibale 2013: 122-123. 82  House model from Ithaka: Beyer 1976: pl. 25. – House model from Sellada, Thera: Schattner 1990: pl. 24.3. – Temple model from Nikoleika near Aigion, ca. 710–700 BCE: Coulié 2013: fig. 81. 83  House urn from Cerveteri, lions standing on palmette, 630–600 BCE: Martelli 1987: pl. 36. – House urn, Mannheim, Reiss-Engelhorn Museum, 650–600 BCE: Prayon 2006: 13, fig. 12. – Hut urn, Florence, Archaeological Museum, 9th cent. BCE: Torelli 2000: 312. – A survey of Early Etruscan wall paintings, e. g. the Tomb of the Ducks and the Campana Tomb, and house urns before the discovery of the tomb: Leighton 2005. 84  Boardman 1981: 234; contrary Krauskopf 2000: 321-322. 80  81 

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Perserschutt in Eretria? Pottery from a Pit in the Agora Tamara Saggini1 The walls were strongly attacked, and for six days many fell on both sides; but on the seventh two Eretrians of repute, Euphorbus son of Alcimachus and Philagrus son of Cineas, betrayed the city to the Persians. They entered the city and plundered and burnt the temples, in revenge for the temples that were burnt at Sardis. Herodotus, Hist. I, 101-102; A. D. Godley, ed. and trans.

This1paper presents research in progress on the Euboean site of Eretria between the  beginning of  6th and the early 5th  century  BCE.2 The study focuses on local pottery production and its chronology, importations and commercial networks, use of shapes according to context, as well as on the impact of an event such as the Persian wars on material culture,  and  thus,  on the transition between the Archaic and the Classical periods. In the following pages, I will give preliminary results of an analysis of an assemblage from the Eretrian agora and will suggest possible interpretations.

The East stoa excavation led by the Swiss School of Archaeology in Greece lasted three years, from 1980 to 1982.6 Two trenches crossing the stoa, twelve squares of 4 meters each oriented on the cardinal points and separated by baulks of one meter wide, and two smaller trenches in the northeastern corner of the building were opened (Figure 3).7 The excavations unearthed the foundations of the building together with some architectural elements and two levels interpreted as floors. After the excavation, the area was filled with earth and covered by asphalt paths.

The agora was located at the heart of the ancient city of Eretria and extended along one of its two main axes: the south-north road, which leads from the harbour to the acropolis (Figure 1).  Modern buildings were not built over it when the city was repopulated in the 19th century, when the area was reconstructed according to the plan of the German architect Eduard Schaubert.3 Indeed, Schaubert included many ancient remains in his topographical plan and thus saved them from destruction. Many of the agora’s ancient structures were still apparent at least until the 1980s when the space was covered with earth and asphalt to serve until recently as a marketsquare. 

Short excavation reports were published in Antike  Kunst, as well as an architectural study by Alexandra Tanner.8 According to Tanner, two  stoai  were  constructed. A first stoa was built in the last quarter of the 6th century. It was 120 meters long and 9.3 meters wide and had 22 shops at the back, with a colonnaded portico in the front. This stoa shows traces of repair after a destruction by a fire.9 A second stoa was built in the first half of the 4th century. It was roughly twice as wide as the Archaic stoa, at 16.9 meters wide, had 24 shops at the  back and two porticos with colonnades. In 1982, at the very end of the last excavation season, the Swiss discovered a pit running parallel to the colonnade of the Archaic stoa (northwest-southeast), and therefore located in front of it (Pit 43, Figures 3 and 4). It is a rectangular pit, 80 to 85  cm  wide and 33 cm deep.10 Its excavated length was 5 meters.11 It seems to lie 35 cm lower than the floor level of the first Archaic phase of the stoa.12 The shape of this pit seems to be the negative of a former structure, which would have been removed at some time, perhaps a gutter or a canalisation. Considering that the excavation was conducted only in a very limited area

Only two buildings on the agora have been excavated: a  tholos  and the East stoa (Figure 2). The  tholos, which is the only structure still visible today is located in the central square of the agora. It was excavated by Greek archaeologists and dated to the 4th  century.4 There is also evidence for stoai along the other three sides of the square.5

University of Geneva, [email protected] This PhD entitled ‘Erétrie au tournant des époques archaïque et classique. Approches céramologiques’ is supervised by Profs. Lorenz E. Baumer (University of Geneva) and Kathleen M. Lynch (University of Cincinnati). I wish to thank them both for their support and valuable comments. I warmly thank Kristine Gex as well, for giving the impulse for this project and helping me develop it. 3  In the 6thcentury CE the city was abandoned, maybe due to a series of earthquakes. It  was only  in 1833, following the Greek War of Independence  (1821-1827), that Eretria was repopulated.  In  1822 sailors of Psara, an island near Chios, burned a ship of the Ottoman fleet, which then  took revenge by destroying Psara.  Following  the end of the war and the  signing of  the  protocol of London  in 1833,  the Ottomans gave up Euboea to Greece and the refugees from Psara were given a new home, called Nea Psara, which regained its ancient name of Eretria only in 1960. Not all of Schaubert’s project was carried out, but his map continues to serve as cadastre. Guide 2004: 55–70, 240– 243; Martin Pruvot et alii 2010: 140–143. 4  Petrakos 1963. 5  Krause 1982, 154, note 12; Guide 2004, 241. 1  2 

See reports: AntK: 24 (1981), 77–79; 25 (1982), 152–154. BCH: 105 (1981), 847; 106 (1982), 593–597; 107 (1983), 808. AAA: 15 (1982), 3-9. AR: 29 (1982-83), 17-18. 7  Crossing trenches 1 and 2; squares, called Felder in German, number 172 to 175, 202 to 205, 233 to 236; small trenches, rooms B1 and B2. 8  Krause 1981; 1982; Ray 2006; Tanner 2011; 2013. Two students at the University of Lausanne wrote their MA theses on this excavation (Fournier 2005; Ray 2006). Their work will be integrated in my study. 9  Tanner 2013: 114. She suggests to link the destruction to the Persian sack. 10  The pit lies at a height of 0.75 to 0.42 meters. 11  Nevertheless, some evidence indicates the possibility that the pit continued beyond the 5 excavated meters. This remains a working hypothesis, which requires further research. 12  Floor level: 1.10 m  6 

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Figure 1. Plan of the archaeological site of Eretria © ESAG

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Figure 2. Plan of the Eretria agora (reworked by the author after Tanner 2011) of the stoa, it is difficult to identify the nature of the pit confidently.

A very persistent calcareous deposit covered all the breaks and joins of the pottery fragments, sometimes the whole sherd, showing that the pottery was heavily broken before it was buried in the pit. Moreover, all the fragments were scattered along the whole 5-meter long pit and at various depths. There are, indeed, joining fragments from one end of the pit to the other, indicating that the whole contents of the pit were deposited all at once and randomly. Also, at least one third of the fragments shows visible traces of fire, sometimes also on the breaks. Sometimes burned fragments join with unburnt. This points to the fact that the material was not only heavily broken but also partially burnt in a contemporary fire. There are no misfired pieces.

The pit contains about 13,000 fragments (13,015 to be precise), of which 98% is pottery, mixed with 2% of tiles (226 fragments), lamps (22 fragments), bones (16 fragments), and a few pieces of charcoal,  limestone, marble, terracotta and iron.13

I studied the entire assemblage during four research stays at the museum of Eretria, with the help of interns from the University of Geneva: Caroline Bridel, Sarah d’Andrès, Stephen Hart, Flore Higelin, whom I take the opportunity to thank. 13 

The vast majority of the pottery is fine ware (84%), the rest is composed of coarse-ware (10%), plain or household ware

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Figure 3. Plan of the East stoa excavation (reworked by the author after Ray 2006) Figure 4. The East stoa excavation and Pit 43 ©ESAG (reworked by the author after Ray 2006)

(3%), and transport amphorai, mostly from the northern Aegean (3%) (Figure 5). Among the fine ware, the dominant technique is Attic black-glazed, which represents a little more than the half of the assemblage. The black-glazed shapes are mainly cupskyphoi (50 vases; Figure 6)14 and olpai (88 vases; Figure 7).15 The second most represented technique is Attic blackfigure, comprising almost one third of the vases, mainly lekythoi (123 vases; Figures 8, 9, 10, 11),16 with some small cup-skyphoi and a few large closed shapes (amphorai and pelikai). Finally, slightly more than a quarter of the fine ware consists of line-decorated or simply glazed local fine ware, of which the most common shapes are bowls or cups (kotylai and skyphoi) as well as jugs. There are very few other fine Cf. Agora XII, no. 568 for shape, but no. 567 for depth. Cf. Agora XII, no. 265. 16  Among the lekythoi, the Cock Group, the Class of Athens 581 i and ii, and the Little Lion class are the most represented. The illustrations show one example of each. One could already note a very striking feature on all of the profiles: the lekythoi from the Cock Group are much deeper than the one of the Class of Athens 581 i and ii. Moreover, the decored zone starts higher on the Cock Group lekythoi than on the Class of Athens 581 i and ii. This, together with other features permitting us to better characterize these groups, will be further developed in my dissertation. 14  15 

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The 7% of coarse-ware are mainly chytrai (33 vases), of which one-fourth comes from Aegina. It is significant to note that at least some of the chytrai, unlike the fine ware, seem to have been used. Their bottoms seem to bear traces of fire18 and one of them is only burnt on the whole inner surface. Almost all the 2% of household wares are lekanai (19 vases).

Figure 5. Chart showing the percentage of each pottery category

Figure 6. Black-glazed cup-skyphos found in the pit

The materiel from the pit can be dated to a very short span of time in the late Archaic period.19 Nothing seems to have been produced before the last quarter of the sixth century and nothing after 490. By comparison, no chronological markers of 480 or from later assemblages found in Athens, for example, appear in this context.20 Compared to the Persian destruction deposits from the Athenian Agora,21 the relative chronology of the Eretrian assemblage is tighter and 10 years earlier than the Athenian ones. The relevant chronological markers are: the black-glazed cup-skyphoi and the blackglazed olpai, which all seem to date to the last decades of the Archaic period, as well as the black-figure lekythoi, of which we have mainly examples of the Cock Group, the Class of Athens 581 i and ii and the Little Lion Class; there are no examples of the Haimon Group, nor of moulded foot shapes that appear only later in the 5th century. Imported ware, such as the Fikellura amphorai, points to a similar date, as does the cooking-ware: the chytrai and the very early type of lopas that can be dated to the last decades of the 6th century.22 Does this material originally come from the East stoa (in front of which it was found), or was it brought there to level the area after a reorganisation of the agora, requiring material to fill up pits or holes? To answer this question, a few remarks are in order.

around 500. On this suject, see for example: Stais 1863; Vanderpool 1946; Francis and Vickers 1983; Tölle-Kastenbein 1983; Boardman 1984; Roberts and Glock 1986; Shear 1993; Parker 1994; Neer 2002; Lynch 2009; Rotroff 2009; Hatzivassiliou 2010 18  The distinction between vases exposed to Figure 7. Rim and a bottom fragments of banded black-glazed olpai heat during normal use and those damaged by fire remains difficult to determine. 19  The assemblage contains two contamination fragments: one very ware imports in the pit: two small vases probably come from small skyphos foot fragment dated around 430 and one fragment of Corinth, one pyxis and one small closed shape, and five vases modern ceramic. come from Asia Minor (two of which are in the Fikellura style). 20  Shear 1993: 383–415. It is noteworthy that only two joining fragments of an early 21  See: Vanderpool 1946; Roberts and Glock 1986; Shear 1993; Attic red-figure large closed vessel are attested in the pit.17 Lindenlauf 1997; Lynch 2009; Lynch 2011. We need to keep in mind that Athens was sacked in 480/79 and according to Herodotus, Eretria 10 years earlier, that is in 490. 17  22  This topic will of course be further addressed in my dissertation, Long et alii 1992: 219, 222 (no. 18 and 19)18-23 November 1990: they taking into account a number of studies on pottery chronology call it lopas, although it is generally used for later classical shapes.

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Firstly, in addition to the multiples of same shapes and types of vases, some groups of vases, especially the lekythoi and the cups, show exactly the same iconography. Secondly, the fine ware pottery shows no traces of use; the surface, the glaze and the resting surfaces of the vessels are intact. Thirdly, the almost total absence of household or plain ware would seem to exclude the possibility that the assemblage comes from a purely domestic context. With regard to the chytrai, as mentioned earlier, one explanation could be that these were in fact used by the shop owners themselves and were thus not meant to be sold. At the same time, the absence of any ritual or votive vases shows that the original context was also not a sanctuary either. There are, though, a small number of miniature kotylai, usually found in votive contexts. They show no traces of fire, use or any other special treatment. Their presence could thus simply be explained by the fact that this was the place where they were sold. Fourthly, the material looks very homogeneous, as the statistics also show, in category, shape, type, size, provenance, and thus is not likely to be a mix of garbage used merely to refill pits or holes in the area. This suggests that it most likely came from the very area where it was found, the agora, probably from the adjacent East stoa, and was not moved there from another area. Indeed, the recurrence of shapes, types and similar iconography indicates that these vessels were meant to be sold in the shops of the stoa.23

Figure 8. Black figure lekythos from the Cock Group

Therefore, the picture provided by the assemblage surveyed here raises a number of questions on the  type of  shops  that were present in the East stoa of the Eretrian agora, and more generally in agorai in Archaic Greece.24 The recurrence of pottery shapes, types and iconography, and their location in this 5-meter long pit may suggest that there would have been shops selling pottery of specific shapes and provenance or even specific workshops, such as the Cock Group workshop or the Class of Athens 581 i and ii workshop, both well represented here. To sum up, the pottery sold in the shops of the East stoa was at one point heavily broken partly burnt in a fire,  and seems to have been then discarded for this reason in the last decades of the Archaic period. The architectural study shows that a fire partially destroyed the East stoa toward the end of the 6th century and was subsequently repaired. The debris was cleaned up and discarded in the pit to allow for the reconstruction of (a part of) the East stoa. The absence of any

Figure 9. Black figure lekythos from the Class of Athens i abandonment layer in the stoa suggests that this was done very shortly after the destruction of the stoa.25 The Eretrians must

Taking into consideration the working hypothesis suggested above, that is, that the pit is in fact longer than the excavated length, some other pieces may remain in the un-excavated area. 24  Vanderpool 1938; 1946; Roberts and Glock 1986; Lynch 2009. 23 

25 

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The architectural study shows the same. Cf. Tanner 2013: 114.

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note the recurrence of identical types, shapes and the unused pottery. In terms of chronology, the Eretrian assemblage is by contrast 10 years earlier than the assemblages known from Athens. If we consider the Eretrian pit as a consequence of the Persian sack, this would be in agreement with the chronology provided by Herodotus, who suggests that Eretria was sacked some ten years before Athens, that is in 490. Nevertheless, before we attempt to link the material provided by the East stoa pit to the events described by Herodotus, we need to have other evidence. One approach would be to ask, among other questions, whether we can identify similar traces of fire and destruction in other  areas  of the city. This will be done in the continuation of my current study.28 For now, we need to remain cautious as to whether this pit can be considered evidence for the Persian destruction of the city. Finally, the study of this new deposit of pottery allows us to address a large number of questions not only about the Persian wars and the sack of Eretria, but also about everyday life in Archaic Greece, about post-disaster reaction (clean-up, reconstruction) in an ancient city, about the political events in the late Archaic period, their chronology and the transition to the Classical period.

Figure 10. Black figure lekythos from the Class of Athens ii

Bibliography Agora XII = Sparkes, B. A. and L. Talcott 1970. Black and Plain Pottery of the 6th, 5th and 4th Centuries B.C. Agora 12. Princeton NJ: American School of Classical Studies at Athens. Boardman, J. 1984. Signa tabulae priscae artis. In JHS 104: 161–163. Fournier, S. 2005. Le mobilier céramique de la Stoa Est d’Erétrie (unpublished MA-thesis). Lausanne. Francis, E.D., and M. Vickers 1983. Signa Priscae Artis: Eretria and Siphnos. In JHS 103: 49–67. Guide 2004 = AA.VV. 2004. Erétrie : guide de la cité antique. Gollion: Infolio Editions. Hatzivassiliou, E. 2010. Athenian black figure iconography between 510 and 475 B.C. Rahden: Verlag Marie Leidorf. Krause, C. 1981. Eretria. Ausgrabungen 1979 - 1980. In AntK 24: 70–81. Krause, C. 1982. Eretria. Ausgrabungen 1981. In AntK 25: 150–154. Lindenlauf, A. 1997. Der Perserschutt der Athener Akropolis. In W. Hoepfner (ed.) Kult und Kultbauten auf der Akropolis. Internationales Symposion vom 7. bis 9. Juli 1995 in Berlin: 46–115. Berlin: Archäologisches Seminar der Freien Universität Berlin.

Figure 11. Black figure lekythos from the Little Lion Class have sought to clean up and rebuild their agora as quickly as possible in order to get back to normal life. At the time of the discovery of this pit in 1982, Swiss scholars have had the famous passage of Herodotus in mind, quoted above. The text claims that, during the Persian wars, the Persians exacted revenge upon the Eretrians in 490 and upon the Athenians later, in 480, by burning down their temples.26 When looking for comparanda in a preliminary survey, we may note that the Eretrian assemblage is in many respects similar to the type of deposits discovered at the agora of Athens and connected to the Persian sack of the city in 480, such as the Stoa gutter well in Athens or the Upper fill of the Rock-Cut Shaft:27

According to the excavation reports and publications, we can indeed identify traces of destruction in other areas of the city linked to the Persian destruction by the authors. See for example, AntK 1966: 109: ‘Hier wie am Westtor und bei den meisten übrigen Sondierungen wurden hauptsächlich drei Schuttschichten festgestellt. Die eine geht auf die Eroberung durch die Perser 490, die zweite auf die durch die Römer 198 zurück.’; AntK 1968: 96; Krause 1972: 47; Führer 1972: 80, 109-111. However, I have not yet checked the character and date of material from these areas. In any case, the excavators recovered no traces of aggressive invasion in or around our pit, such as arrows or projectiles. 28 

Herodotus, Hist. I, 101-102, A. D. Godley, ed. and trans. Here I take the opportunity to thank Prof. Kathleen M. Lynch who has helped me with the deposits from the Athenian Agora and for all the fruitful discussions. 26  27 

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Long, L., J. Miro, and G. Volpe 1992. Les épaves archaïques de la pointe Lequin. In M. Bats (ed.) Marseille grecque et la Gaule: actes du Colloque international d’histoire et d’archéologie et du Ve congrès archéologique de Gaule méridionale (Marseille, 18-23 novembre 1990): 199-234. Lattes: ADAM. Lynch, K.M. 2009. The Persian Destruction Deposits and the Development of Pottery. Research at the Agora Excavations. In J. McK Camp and C. A. Mauzy (ed.) The Athenian Agora : New Perspectives on Ancient Site: 69–76. Mainz: Philip von Zabern. Lynch, K.M. 2011. The Symposium in Context : Pottery from a Late Archaic House near the Athenian Agora. Princeton NJ: The American School of Classical Studies at Athens. Martin Pruvot, C., P. Ducrey, and T. Theurillat (ed.) 2010. Cité sous terre : des archéologues suisses explorent la cité grecque d’Erétrie. Gollion ; Basel: Infolio. Neer, R.T. 2002. Style and Politics in Athenian Vase-Painting : the craft of Democracy, ca. 530-460 B.C.E. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Parker, V. 1994. Zur absoluten Datierung des Leagros Kalos und der ‘Leagros-Gruppe’. In AA: 365–373. Petrakos, V. 1963. Chronika. In ADelt 17 B (1961/2): 148–152.

Ray, C. 2006. La Stoa Est d’Erétrie (unpublished MA-thesis). Lausanne. Roberts, S.R., and A. Glock. 1986. The Stoa Gutter Well a Late Archaic Deposit in the Athenian Agora. In Hesperia 55, 1: 1–74. Rotroff, S.I. 2009. Early Red-figure in Context. In J. Oakley and O. Palagia (ed.) Athenian Potters and Painters Volume II: 250– 260. Oxford: Oxbow books. Shear, T.L. 1993. The Persian Destruction of Athens : Evidence from Agora Deposits. In Hesperia 62, 4: 383–482. Stais, B. 1863. Ο εν Μαραθώνι Τύμβος. In AM 18: 46–63. Tanner, A. 2011. Die Ost-Stoa auf der Agora von Eretria. Baugeschichte, Konstruktion, städtebauliche Bedeutung (unpublished MA-thesis). Bamberg ; Coburg. Tanner, A. 2013. Untersuchungen zur Ost-Stoa an der Agora von Eretria. In AntK 56: 111–125. Tölle-Kastenbein, R. 1983. Bemerkungen zur absoluten Chronologie spätarchaischer und frühklassischer Denkmäler Athens. In AA: 573–584. Vanderpool, E. 1938. The Rectangular Rock-Cut Shaft: The Shaft and its Lower Fill. In Hesperia 7 3: 363–411. Vanderpool, E. 1946. The Rectangular Rock-Cut Shaft: The Upper Fill. In Hesperia 15 4: 265–336.

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A Bridge to Overseas: Insight into the geomorphology, harbourworks and harbour layouts of the Archaic and Classical Greek harbours Chiara Maria Mauro1 Ancient sources

In1the process of acknowledging Greek history and archaeology, understanding harbour contexts is of utmost importance. For the Greeks, besides representing a capital of resources in a territory with a challenging topography, the sea constituted a means of communication that enabled them to maintain commercial and political relationships with the many centres of the Greek world as such and the so-called ‘areas of expansion’. In other words, the Greek world was based fundamentally on living off the sea and around the sea. Communicating between various settlements, including those overseas, would have thus been impossible if it was not for the existence of harbours that functioned as the terminals of an intricate connective network.

The earliest information available on Greek harbours is rooted in Classical antiquity and can be found in Greek literature. Although this may seem to suggest the existence of a relatively simple answer to the afore mentioned questions, unfortunately, this is not the case. Even though records indicate that the third book of Mechanike syntaxis by Philo of Byzantium (late third century BC) was entitled Limenopoeica (‘On Harbour Building’) and that Timosthenes of Rhodes, captain of the Ptolemies fleet, wrote an essay entitled ‘Harbours’ (Str. 9.3.10), no intact technical text on ancient harbour construction has ever been found. Thus, the fifth chapter of De Architectura by Vitruvius is the only available account of such texts; however, this is a later source, and it includes technical results achieved in Hellenistic and Roman times.

Despite the fundamental importance of harbours – in both long and short-range exchanges – it is still hard, to date, to identify the primary characteristics of a Greek harbour area. Indeed, most of the port studies carried out from the 1980s onwards have tended to analyse harbour contexts in a broad sense. The focus was mainly on the role of harbours as receptors and transmitters of culture, while disregarding – or perhaps taking for granted – all those elements (natural, artificial or due to the interaction between man and nature) that in ancient times defined the very nature of a harbour.2 However, even if a port ‘cannot be regarded as an isolated phenomenon, but as part of the political, social and economic life of a region’,3 it is also true that before analysing them in a wider context, it is necessary to understand harbours themselves. For this reason, the main aim of this paper is to clarify some crucial issues: • • •

The only written source of this kind currently available is the Periplus by Pseudo-Skylax, traditionally attributed to Skylax of Caryanda, a navigator who explored the coast of the Indian Ocean  on behalf of Darius I in the late sixth century BC.4 Nevertheless, as Shipley points out, the modality in which this document is preserved suggests that it could date back only to the late fourth century BC.5 Despite being the only ‘technical’ manuscript that specifically addresses the subject we are exploring, the Periplus of Pseudo-Skylax is unique, as it falls outside the main characteristics of nautical technical texts, in that it only records the existence of harbours, anchorages, landmarks and water points without providing any details about them. Because of its characteristics, the information provided in this Periplus would have little significance if not supported by archaeological, historical and geological data, as well as complementary sources.6

What were Archaic and Classical harbours located by preference? What artificial elements were harbours defined by? What were their layouts?

All other Periploi and Coastal Itineraries preserved, including the Stadiasmus Maris Magni and the Itinerarium Antonini, do not belong to the time period considered in this paper.7

Other elements that could be equally interesting and relevant are deliberately left aside for the time being, as a consensus on these primary issues is needed before proceeding with a more specific analysis.

Hdt. IV.44 Shipley 2011. For more information on the original text and the preserved editions, see also Fabre 1965, Peretti 1979 and 1990, Marcotte 1986 and Cordano 1992. 6  On the peculiarity of the Periplus of Pseudo-Skylax, see Medas 2008. Prontera (1992: 38) stated that information about meteorology could have been lost with the entry of the Periplus into the literary tradition. 7  There are four more documents that could be useful in decoding harbour contexts: the Periplus of the Erythraean Sea (first century AD); the Periplus of Nearchus (a navarch who described his voyage from the  Indus river  to the  Persian Gulf  following the  Indian campaign  of  Alexander the Great in 326–324 BC); the Periplus of Hanno (the Carthaginian  explorer of the sixth or fifth century BC known for his naval exploration of the Western coast of Africa) and Arrian’s account of the Black Sea (second century AD). Unfortunately, 4  5 

University College Dublin, Newman Building, Belfield, Dublin 4, Ireland, [email protected], orcid.org/0000-0001-8902-0697. 2  This remark is by no means aimed at diminishing the importance of these considerations. What it does highlight is the fact that these studies are often not strictly focused on ports as such, but rather on specific aspects related to them. 3  As Karmon (1980: 9) stated in a monograph about harbours. 1 

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Modern Studies

The first – and so far the only – large-scale account on ancient harbours was published by Lehmann-Hartleben in 1923.14 The document consists of a list based on literary evidence rather than personal observation, but it remains an invaluable reference that restructured the entire existing knowledge on this topic at the time. Unfortunately, this book did not generate considerable interest in ancient harbours and little research was done for a decade, until further work was carried out by Father Podeibard in Tyre in 1934-36, and in Sidon in 1946-50.15

As previously mentioned, modern studies concerning Greek harbour contexts are far from exhaustive. This may be attributable to the general trend of that era in avoiding large-scale harbourworks, intervening with minor changes only where the morphological characteristics of the area would naturally favour harbour operations and functions; this suggests a lack of relevant archaeological evidence for this period. However, this dearth of study could be attributed also to other factors, as for example the location of many modern ports in the same area as ancient harbours (the socalled ‘buried harbours’ phenomenon); changes in the sea level (due in large measure to the rise of global temperatures); the evolution of geomorphological conditions (caused by phenomena such as eustasy, subsidence, bradyseism, other general volcanic activity, erosion, and silting due to advancing of the coastline around river mouths); the destruction of many facilities due to unfavourable weather conditions or strong tides; and human interventions aimed at changing the configuration of the coast to adapt it to the needs of the tourism and fishing industries.8

In 1982, Blackman published two papers entitled ‘Ancient Harbours in the Mediterranean’ in two consecutive volumes of the International Journal of Nautical Archaeology.16 Due to their scientific importance and the ability of the author to cover a vast geographical area and chronological span in just a few pages, along with Lehmann-Hartleben, these essays are considered the main reference points in the field of harbour studies. The 1980s truly marked a turning point in harbour archaeology. At that time, the field of study experienced sudden growth, and some scholars began to name research projects or papers that had nothing to do with harbours per se ‘port studies’, as noted by Ben Ford in a chapter dedicated to coastal archaeology.17

For the reasons mentioned above, evidence uncovered during excavations along the Mediterranean coast often received little attention from archaeologists. However, although modern harbour archaeology only began in the middle of the last century, in the nineteenth century some scholars and travellers included in their books several fundamental details about the appearance of Greek harbours at the time of their journeys. In particular, Leake’s work is relevant because of the wide area examined; his explorations were specifically aimed at creating a map of the coasts of Albania and Morea.9 Fortunately, his meticulous work did not remain an isolated attempt, but was rather a pioneering endeavour within a fairly extensive topographic output.10

In recent years, harbour archaeology has progressed thanks to the benefits of a multidisciplinary research approach. An example of this can be found in the excavations of the ancient harbour of Abdera, in the Northern part of the Aegean Sea,18 and the Caesarea Maritima, in Israel.19 Furthermore in 19941995, during excavations in Marseille (France), harbour facilities from the Classical era were identified.20 Nowadays, the archaeological community is increasingly aware of the importance of the environment in understanding the lifestyle of ancient societies. This interest has been translated into the organization of many specific courses and the publication of a long-awaited book by Blackman and Rankov on ancient Mediterranean shipsheds.21

Renewed interest in the remains of ancient harbours and submerged coastal sites was ignited by a study on the evidence of changes in sea level in historical times. The study was conducted in 1904 by Negris, a Greek engineer who noted a number of submerged harbour installations while he was working for a French company involved with drainage work, harbour dredging and canal excavation in Greece.11 In 1907, Georgiades – another Greek engineer – published the first study that specifically focused on a group of ancient harbours.12 Between 1915 and 1916, Paris wrote two papers on the study of two of the most important Greek harbours: Lechaion, the Western Corinthian harbour, and Delos; both of these papers were published in Bulletin de Correspondance Hellénique, just shortly before Paris’ studies were interrupted by the First World War.13

Geomorphology The main function of a harbour was to connect land and sea, both for local and long-distance commerce. The choice of location was mainly determined by the natural configuration of the coast. In an era when technical knowledge was insufficient for the construction of complex underwater structures, protection against wind and currents offered by the conformation of the coast was the determining factor in the choice of strategic locations that would be adapted to function as harbours or landing areas. As it has been previously stated, no Archaic or Classical technical manuscript has survived; however, some observations on the location of harbours can be still made looking at later

these documents do not focus on the geographical area examined within this paper, which is limited to the Aegean Sea and the Eastern part of the Ionian Sea. 8  Chryssoulaki 2005: 77. 9  Leake 1830, 1835 and 1841. 10  On the Grand Tour travellers and the expeditions of scholars before the nineteenth century, see Morhange and Mariner 2007: 137-139. 11  Negris 1904. 12  Georgiades 1907. 13  Paris 1915 and 1916.

Lehmann-Hartleben 1923. Tyre: Poidebard 1939; Sidon: Poidebard and Lauffray 1951. 16  Blackman 1982a and 1982b. 17  Ford 2011: 763-85. 18  Koukouli-Chrysanthaki 1991. 19  Raban 1989. 20  Hesnard 1994 and 1995. 21  Blackman and Rankov 2013. 14  15 

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Harbourworks

nautical sources, by studying the location of harbours, as well as analysing seafaring dynamics. From these sources, it can be assumed that the fundamental characteristics of an area selected for a harbour were the following:22 - - - - -

Research into Archaic and Classical harbours demonstrates a heterogeneous range of infrastructure. Not all artificial structures were of the same kind, but rather were designed to have four main functions:

a ‘closed’ and shallow harbour basin, for protection from the wind; a good sea bottom, able to hold anchors; the availability of drinking water in proximity; protection offered by the orography of the coast; the presence of small offshore islands, which could be used as additional anchorage areas, especially for large vessels.23

- to protect the basin from meteorological dynamics and enemy attacks (breakwaters and moles); - to moor and facilitate loading and unloading manoeuvres (piers, quays and mooring devices); - to facilitate beaching and the maintenance of boats (shipsheds, slipways); - to increase the radius of visibility of the harbour (proto-lighthouses and towers).25

Thus, based on these preliminary remarks, it can be stipulate that in the absence of man-made harbours, the most suitable alternatives were:

Breakwaters were dam-shaped cliffs built at the edges of a harbour to protect it from breakers and enemy attacks. Starting from the shoreline, they continued in a direction which was influenced by the angle of wave approach. In addition to defensive advantages, these structures offered partial solutions to the problem of the siltation of harbour basins, since their presence varied the normal dynamics of longshore drift.26 Similar to breakwaters, moles performed a double function as well. The outer part was used as protection, while the inner part functioned as a mooring space through the installation of bollards, rings or drilled stones.27 While the inner part of breakwaters was often used as a mole, the primary mooring space was within the harbour basin, close to the warehouse and customs offices by quays and piers.28

- Shelters between headlands (typ. 1). Headlands stretch out towards the sea and, breaking the flow of wind and waves, they create new natural sea-conditions. The sheltered areas in the lee of a promontory would be ideal during specific conditions and periods of the year for anchorage and landing; however, in other periods, these same areas could be affected directly by winds coming from opposite directions. - Shelters behind islands (typ. 2). In the same way as headlands, islands also act as natural barriers which reduce the impact of wind and waves. They offer different levels of protection based on the direction of the wind and the surrounding coastal layout. - Sheltered bays (typ. 3). Bays are natural coastal indentations and can vary significantly in terms of size. The level of protection offered by a bay is determined by its geographical location and orientation. - Shelters in river mouths (typ. 4). When water flows out of a river into the sea, it alters the nearshore hydrodynamic system, delaying the breaking of the waves and creating relatively still basins by the river mouth; this situation develops conditions that are particularly suitable for harbour operations. Furthermore, hauling a boat in river mouths becomes easier, thanks to low and sandy river banks. - Shelters in lagoons (typ. 5). Their natural separation from the sea and peculiar internal conditions make lagoons an ideal location for harbours, as they offer protection from waves and all other maritime and weather-related offshore dynamics.

The quay was the space covering the perimeter of the harbour basin bordering the sea. The equipment intended for boat mooring and handling of goods (e.g., cranes, warehouses, offices) was usually installed on the quay. Piers, on the other hand, were structures protruding from the quay into the water, and they were intended to increase the natural mooring space of the harbour.29 Unlike moles, quays and piers did not have defensive aims but were used for boats to moor while waiting for goods to be unloaded onto the coastline. Shipsheds and slipways were elements of service equipment situated on the mainland. Sheds were made of long, open corridors on the sea-front, closed in the rear and separated by columns30 or pillars.31 It is necessary to specify that in the present analysis we only consider artificial interventions that improved the functionality of the basin for boats (i.e., mainly breakwaters, moles, shipsheds, slipways and lighthouses), while other structures related to the harbour but aimed at satisfying different needs (i.e., colonnades, stoá, customs buildings) are not taken into account. Some of these facilities could simultaneously perform various functions. For example, towers were used both to increase the radius of visibility and protect the basin. 26  Blackman 2008: 654-655. Sediment accumulation is a phenomenon related especially to harbour basins that are close to river estuaries; nevertheless, the progressive accumulation of sandy material takes place along any type of coast due to longshore drift. 27  This double function dates back to the ninth century BC. In the intervention in Tabbat-el-Hammam, the defensive structure functioned as mooring space (Carayon 2008: 661). 28  Blackman 2008: 654-655. 29  Ibidem. 30  Oiniadai; in this case, the corridors were divided by 18 columns and T-shaped pillars (Gerding in Blackman and Rankov 2013: 413). 31  Complex of Corcyra 1–Kokotou, harbour of Alkynoos, Corcyra. 25 

The table shows that, for each of these typologies it is possible to identify some recurring subtypes (Figure 1). Furthermore, in the Aegean and Ionian seas, where coasts are particularly jagged, many harbours benefitted from several protective factors at once; for this reason, these harbours could be ascribed to a ‘mixed typology’. 24

As proposed by Medas in his PhD thesis dedicated to the study of the Stadiasmus Maris Magnis (2008). 23  These five characteristics were listed by Benedikt Kotruljevic in his technical handbook De Navigatione (1416-1469). 24  For more information about each subtype, see Mauro 2014: 13-16; and 2017: 435-483. Moreover, a monograph on this topic is currently in preparation. 22 

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Figure 1. Table with recurring typologies and subtypes in the Greek world. Harbour Layouts Looking at the organization of Greek harbours and considering the number of harbour basins, it is possible to identify that various layouts existed during the Archaic and Classical periods. The simplest (and most common) layout includes a single water basin. This layout was particularly popular during the Archaic age and was used seamlessly during this period (Figure 2). More complex harbour layouts, commonly found in the Eastern Mediterranean since the Bronze Age, featured two basins (Figure 3). This category can be further divided into three subcategories: harbours with a double basin, harbours with an inner and an outer basin, and harbours with two independent basins. Harbours of the first subcategory were commonly found when the harbour was located on a headland; this natural situation had the advantage of offering a ‘double basin’, one on each side (Figure 4). The two basins could have been used alternately, based on weather conditions; furthermore, where available, one of the two basins could have been reserved for a fleet of battleships. Homer was probably referring to this type of harbour when he mentioned the amfidumoi liménes (Hom. Od. IV.846-847).

Figure 2. Example of a harbour with a single water basin. Lastly, some Greek harbours were equipped with systems aimed at signalling and improving the visibility radius. While it is difficult to trace a clear evolutionary picture of this kind of structure before the third century BC – when the lighthouse of Alexandria was built on the island of Pharos – rudimentary forms of towers and lighthouses surely existed long before this point, despite the lack of any physical evidence. From the sixth century BC, these structures began to acquire a monumental and permanent nature, eventually evolving in free-standing towers and lighthouses.32

Another well-documented case is that of harbours with an inner and an outer basin. To reach the inner basin, boats had to pass through the outer basin (Figure 5), as it could have been the case of Phalasarna harbour in Crete.33 This layout

Compared with previously analysed structures, that were distinctive of harbour areas (e.g., moles, breakwaters, shipsheds, slipways), towers and lighthouses are not strictly related to harbours, since they could have been located also elsewhere (in any case along the coast, as lighthouses are concerned; the construction and location 32 

of towers, on the contrary, was not connected to the coast). 33  The existence of two basins in Phalasarna is currently under discussion. Hadjdaki 1988; Hadjdaki and Frost 1990.

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Figure 3. Two examples of what a harbour with two basins could look like. On the left: a harbour with two juxtaposed basins, situated between two river mouths (e.g., Patras). On the right: a harbour with two water basins; one of the basins was artificially obtained through the construction of two breakwaters (e.g., Thasos). The most complex layouts feature more than two basins; some examples of these ‘complex harbour systems’ include Piraeus and Halicarnassus (Figure 7). Data from the Aegean Sea and the Eastern Part of the Ionian Sea Limiting the geographical context of reference, it is possible to examine in depth the features that have been previously taken into account and to abstract interesting information from the varied cases that have been considered. In this case, this paper will centre on the Aegean and Eastern Ionian Sea areas, since they were the subject of my PhD research.34 The rationale behind the adoption of a large-scale framework or, more specifically, a mesoscale35 lies in the opportunity to work through assorted records and contemplate an extensive study of the topic.36 Looking at harbour geomorphology, it can be ascertained that different preferential natural situations existed; however, not every place was able to ensure the same degree of protection to the ships. To define the degree of protection ensured by each typology and subtype, it is important to take into account a main feature, that is the percentage of occurrence of harbourworks. This consideration is based on the evidence that, in cases where the place was considered barely sheltered, harbourworks (in particular moles and breakwaters) were set up. If this consideration is validated by comparing the frequency of harbourworks in every subtype, it is possible to establish a scale, the main parameter of which is the

Figure 4. Graphic example of an amfidumos limèn or ‘harbour with double basin’. This harbour model was often adopted when a harbour was located near a headland.

The assembled data about the examined harbours have been collected and organized in a catalogue currently available online at www.ancientgreekharbours.com. Currently, a beta test of this database is online; within the next months, the database is expected to be improved and translated into English. 35  A mesoscale is in-between a micro-scale (which would have implied studying a single polis or just one historical region) and a macro-scale (which would have also affected the so-called ‘areas of expansion’). 36  On the other hand, such a choice inevitably brings with it disadvantages that could be corrected only through an in-depth analysis. Therefore, this paper does not aim at studying the peculiarities of each settlement, but at determining the general outline. 34 

facilitated the control and supervision of entries into the inner basin. Merchant ships, which featured a substantial draught, would anchor or moor in the outer basin, allowing warships to access the second basin. Harbours with two independent basins (which can be defined ‘simple harbour systems’) had two basins as well but at a further distance from one another. Simple harbour systems were usually located in areas of great strategic value, such as the Ambracian Gulf (Figure 6).

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Figure 5. Graphic example of the possible appearance of a harbour formed by an inner basin and an outer basin. On the left, a lagoon is used as inner harbour, and a wide natural bay is used as outer harbour (e.g., Phalasarna). On the right is a harbour with an artificial inner basin obtained by means of the construction of a breakwater (e.g., Eretria). protective level offered. The results obtained are summarised in a table that shows the geomorphological situations that guaranteed a high level of natural protection, as well as cases that would have ensured only a partial protection (Figure 8). Concerning harbourworks, data from the selected geographical context reveals that the majority of Archaic and Classical Greek harbours did not present any type of artificial structures, whereas the remaining 45% included: - Artificial harbours (2/175 = 1%);37 - Modified natural harbours (43/175 = 25 %);38 - Likely modified natural harbours (33/175 = 19 %).39 Based on this data, it cannot be argued that the Greek world mainly featured natural harbours. On the other hand, it cannot be denied that natural harbours dispersed over a wider geographical area during this period. Information at our disposal allows for a deeper investigation into these four centuries, which are regarded as a pivotal moment of transition within the process of growth and development of harbour architecture. Furthermore, it reveals that almost every artificial intervention seen in the Greek context has not Greek precedents, so that they were assimilated through direct contacts with other neighbouring cultures (mainly Phoenician and Egyptian). The only new elements introduced by the Greek were proto-lighthouses and breakwaters incorporated within fortifications.40

Figure 6. Example of a simple harbour system: schematic image depicting the case of the Anaktorion harbour system. Anaktorion, through control of Actium basin, supervised the entrance to the Ambracia Gulf. Considering harbour layouts, it is possible to trace a type of chronological evolutionary framework. In particular, it can be seen that during the Middle Geometric period and Early Archaic era, harbours mainly consisted of simple shelters with only one basin, with occasional proof of some amfidumoi liménes. It was not until the sixth century BC that a noticeable change in maritime harbour layouts can be registered. The sixth century BC represents, in many ways, a turning point in the history of Greek harbours. When tyrants came to power and poleis became an emerging reality, harbourworks started being implemented on a large scale, and new harbour layouts were created. Examples of these changes can be found in the great mole of Polycrates in Samos, the rationalisation of Corinth harbour system demanded by Periander, and the

Artificial harbours were entirely manmade. Their construction was rather limited in the Archaic and Classical periods, perhaps because Greek coasts were endowed with many areas that could be protected by a breakwater or a mole. The only basins that can be called ‘artificial’ are Lechaion and Phalasarna. 38  Modified natural harbours were those in which human interventions were only the culmination of an already favourable natural situation. Their perimeter was defined by men through breakwaters or moles. 39  Harbour basins that were likely modified natural harbours in the Archaic and Classical periods. 40  With regard to proto-lighthouses, it is not certain that they were firstly introduced by the Greeks. Frost (2002) claimed that the ‘Tower Temple’ at Byblos, dated around the 23rd century BC, could have been performed maritime signalling purposes; she also attributes the same 37 

aim to the Baal’s tower-like temple at Ugarit, justifying her theory with a LBA clay tablet referring to sacrifices burnt on its roof. As breakwaters incorporated within fortifications are concerned, some researchers have suggested that the “limèn kleistòs” frequently mentioned by Pseudo-Skylax may have identified basins surrounded by these kinds of structures. See Mauro 2017: 551-562..

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Figure 7. Complex harbour systems: the Athenian case (Kantharos, Zea, Mounichia and Bay of Phaleron).

Figure 8. Potential all-year-round harbours and seasonal harbours, according to their geomorphological features.

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Bibliography

creation of Miletus harbour system. Corinth, in particular, introduced the first rational example of a complex harbour system. The Corinthian harbour system – at least until the beginning of the Themistoclean works in Piraeus – became a point of reference for the whole ancient Greek world. While before the sixth century BC the most popular harbour layout featured a single basin, Corinth broke new grounds and raised the standard. Following this example, many other city-states began to adopt organizational layouts that included the control of distant coastal areas. This initiated a process of ‘humanisation of the sea’, which became particularly intense at the end of the Archaic age. From a geopolitical point of view, this process translated into a constant and irreversible increase of human presence in coastal environments.

Blackman, D. 1982a. Ancient harbours of the Mediterranean. Part 1. In International Journal of Nautical Archaeology 11.2: 79-104. Blackman, D. 1982b. Ancient harbours of the Mediterranean. Part 2. In International Journal of Nautical Archaeology 11.3: 185-201. Blackman, D. 2008. Sea Transport – Part 2: Harbours. In P.J. Oleson (ed.) The Oxford Handbook of Engineering and Technology in the Classical World: 638 – 670. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Blackman, D. and Rankov, B. 2013. Shipsheds of the Ancient Mediterranean. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Carayon, N. 2008. Les ports phéniciens et puniques. Géomorphologie et infrastructures. Unpublished PhD thesis. Chryssoulaki, S. 2005. The imaginary navy of Minoan Crete. In R.Laffineur and E.Greco (ed.) EMPORIA. Aegeans in the Central and Eastern Mediterranean. Proceedings of the 10th International Aegean Conference. Athens, Italian School of Archaeology, 14-18 April 2004: 77-90. Liège: Université de Liège and University Texas at Austin. Cordano, F. 1992. Antichi viaggi per mare. Peripli greci e fenici. Pordenone: Edizione Studio Tesi. Fabre, P. 1965. La date de la rédaction du Périple de Scylax. In Les Études Classiques 33: 353-366. Ford, B. 2011. Coastal Archaeology. In A. Catsambis, B. Ford and D.L. Hamilton (ed.) The Oxford handbook of Maritime Archaeology: 763-785. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Frost, H. 2002. Byblos: The Lost Temple the Cedars and the Sea. A Marine Archaeological Survey. In Archaeology & History in Lebanon 15: 57-77. Georgiades, A. S. 1907. Les Ports de la Grèce dans l’ Antiquité qui Subsistent Encore Aujourd’hui. Athens: Taroussopoulos. Hadjidaki, E. 1988. Preliminary Report of Excavation at the Harbour of Phalasarna in West Crete. In American Journal of Archaeology 92: 463-479. Hadjidaki, Ε. and Frost, F.J. 1990. Excavations at the Harbor of Phalasarna in Crete: The 1988 Season. In Hesperia 59.3: 513-527. Hesnard, M. A. 1994. Une nouvelle fouille du Port de Marseille, Place Jules-Verne. In Comptes Rendus des Séances de l’année 1994, Académie des Inscriptions & Belles-Lettres: 195- 217. Hesnard, A. 1995. Les ports antiques de Marseille, Place JulesVerne. In Journal of Roman Archaeology 8: 65-77. Karmon, Y. 1980. Ports around the world. New York: Crown Publishers.  Kotruljević, B. 1464. De navigatione / O Plovidbi (ed. by D. Salopek, D. In 2005). Zagreb: Ex Libris. Koukouli-Chrysanthaki, C. 1991. Anaskafe archaion Abderon. In Praktika Archaiologikes Etaireias 146: 193-199. Leake, W.M. 1830. Travels in the Morea. London: J. Murray. Leake, W.M. 1835. Travels in Northern Greece, 4 vols. London: J. Rodwell. Leake, W.M. 1841. The Topography of Athens and the Demi, vols. 2. London: J. Rodwell. Lehmann–Hartleben, K. 1923. Die antiken Hafenanlagen des Mittelmeeres. Leipzig: Dieterich. Marcotte, D. 1986. Le Périple dit de Scylax. Esquisse d’un commentaire épigraphique et archéologique. In Bollettino dei Classici 7: 166-182.

Lastly, the Classical era was a period characterized by deep transformations that, in the context of harbours, brought about the devising of new layouts which could be more or less extended in space. Naval supremacy became a necessary prerequisite to ensure the economic health and political autonomy of a polis. When the Persians were defeated, a new peril emerged from the Aegean Sea: the conflict between the two main Greek cities. At this stage, Sparta and Athens began to make use of harbour basins belonging to other poleis for their own political purposes.41 This phenomenon originating from the Aegean area took only a short time to spread among the most influential Western colonies, so that when - in the fourth century BC Dionysius of Syracuse tried to extend control over the central Mediterranean and the Ionian coasts, Diodorus justified his actions describing them as fundamental ‘to get control of the Ionian Sea, in order that he might make the route to Epeirus safe and have there his own cities which could give haven to ships.’42 Acknowledgements This paper arises from my doctoral research, which is currently being improved thanks to the support of an Irish Research Council Postdoctoral Fellowship (GOIPD/2017/835). I am grateful to Aideen Carty for proofreading a similar version of this paper (presented as a part of the Research Seminar Series at the University College Dublin), which has been used as a base to write this contribution. Lastly, I would like to thank the anonymous reviewers for their valuable comments and effort to improve the manuscript. 

For instance, Athens used the Sounion and Pasha Limani harbours within its territory, but could equally rely on the Sigeion and Oiniadai basins. Wide harbour systems responded to political dynamics and left no material traces. Furthermore, they were subject to alterations during the fifth and fourth centuries BC. For example, some harbours under the Athenian influence (and, therefore, from the Athenianwide harbour system) became controlled by Sparta and vice versa (e.g., Torone, Halieis and Geraistos). Baika in Blackman and Rankov 2013: 231-234. 42  D.S., XV.13.1 41 

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Mauro, C. M. 2014. Limenes griegos: estrategias para el estudio de los puertos. Desde los puertos naturales hacia las grandes obres portuarias (siglo VIII-479 a.C.). In Antesteria 3: 9-21. Mauro, C. M. 2017. Los puertos griegos de edad arcaica y clásica en el área egea y jónica oriental: geomorfología, infraestructuras y organización. Unpublished PhD thesis. Medas, S. 2008. Lo Stadiasmo o Periplo del Mare Grande e la navigazione antica. Madrid: Gerión Anejos XII. Morhange, C. and Marriner, N. 2007. Geoscience of ancient Mediterranean harbours. In Earth-Science Reviews 80.3-4: 137– 194. Negris, Ph. 1904. Vestiges antiques submergés. In Ath. Mitt. 29: 354- 360. Paris, J. 1915. Contributions à l’étude des ports antiques du monde grec. Notes sur Léchaion. In BCH 39: 5-16. Paris, J. 1916. Contributions à l’étude des ports antiques du monde grec II. Les établissements maritimes de Délos. In BCH 40: 5 – 74.

Peretti, A. 1979. Il Periplo di Scilace. Studio sul primo portolano del Mediterraneo. Pisa: Giardini. Peretti, A. 1990. I Peripli arcaici e Scilace di Carianda. In F. Prontera, F. (ed.) Geografia e geografi nel mondo antico: 71114. Roma-Bari: Laterza. Poidebard, A. 1939. Un grand port disparu, Tyr: Recherches aériennes et sous- marines 1934–1936. Paris: Geuthner. Poidebard, A. and Lauffray, J. 1951. Sidon, aménagements antiques du port de Saïda. Etude aérienne, au sol et sous-marine (1946 – 1950). Beirut: Ministère des travaux publics. Prontera, F. 1992. Periploi: sulla tradizione della geografia nautica presso i Greci. In L’uomo e il mare nella civiltà occidentale: da Ulisse a Cristoforo Colombo. Atti del Convegno, Genova, 1-4 Giugno 1992: 25-44. Genova: Società Ligure di Storia Patria. Raban. A. ed. 1989. The harbours of Caesarea Maritima. Oxford: BAR International Series 491. Shipley, G. 2011. Pseudo-Skylax’s Periplous: the circumnavigation of the inhabited world (text, translation and commentary). Exeter: Liverpool University Press.

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Gandharan Odalisque: Mounted Nereids on Gandharan Stone Palettes SeungJung Kim ‘…but the figure of Thetis achieves a crescendo of sensual—we may even say sexual—excitement, starting with the outline of her body, which echoes so mysteriously that of the neophyte in the as-yet-undiscovered wall paintings of the Villa Item, following her swanlike neck, and rising up her arm, boneless but disturbingly physical, till it culminates in her extraordinary hand, half octopus, half tropical flower.’ Kenneth Clark, The Nude: A Study in Ideal Form (1956), 153.

In formulating Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres’ obsession for the ‘form’ in the female nude, Kenneth Clark offers an evocative assessment of the sinuous outlines of Thetis in his Neoclassical masterpiece, Jupiter and Thetis.1 It is perhaps not by chance that Clark invokes references to watery beasts overlaying the slithering body of the sea-nymph par excellence: ‘swanlike neck,’ ‘boneless but disturbingly physical,’ ‘half octopus, half tropical flower.’ Ingres’ Thetis is eerily reminiscent of the numerous classical portrayals of marine-creature riding Nereids, whose slick upper torsos are strategically bared by the dropped down drapery, their rich folds hapharzardly working in unison to frame the voluptuous curves of the body. Intriguingly, it is also Ingres to whom we owe some of the most memorable back-turned nudes in the history of Western art – the invertebrate Grand Odalisque, and the seemingly candid but equally sensuous Valpinçon Bather – thrust upon the viewer as a feast for the gaze;2 once seen, the mysterious topography of the elongated backs is forever burnished in our mind’s eye like fresh retinal imprints.

containers for cosmetics.3 The more neutral label ‘stone palette,’ as Sir John Boardman calls them, indicates their medium—the characteristic grey schist used in Kushan Gandharan sculpture, or softer steatite (beige, olive green or grey)—that suggests a local production, while respecting our lack of knowledge regarding their elusive function.4 Harry Falk employs the term ‘libation trays,’ arguing for their usage in domestic rituals, aligning with Saifur Raman Dar’s view of them as liturgical vessels, while Jessie Pons explicitly acknowledges the possibility of multiple usages depending on their subtypes.5 The majority of the palettes feature a negative space below the figural reliefs, either formalised as an exergue (and sometimes compartmentalised into two halves), or left blank in a more organic fashion, pointing to their function as some kind of container. Despite their function(s) remaining relatively obscure, Gandharan stone palettes display exceptional art historical appeal owing to their iconography, as they characteristically showcase a kaleidoscope of narratives clearly pulled from the classical mythological repertoire. From the various feats of Herakles, Apollo chasing Daphne, Actaeon witnessing Artemis, the wedding of Dionysos and Ariadne, to Aphrodite chastising Eros with her slipper, these lively pictorial narratives are often recognisably classical in content but are expressed in varying degrees of ‘classicism’ in style.6 Their traditional dates ranging in the two to three centuries around Christ (mid 2nd century BCE – 1st/2nd century CE) had prompted some to regard the stone palettes as a conduit for classical motifs in Gandharan Buddhist sculpture, acting as a bridge between the earlier Indo-Greek kingdoms in Hellenistic

It is precisely the semiotics of the back-turned female nude that is the subject of this paper. It is argued that the particular rear-view of the female body in classical art goes well beyond a casual chance projection of the feminine form viewed from multiple angles. The visual focus on the rear not only is a very deliberate choice, but also actively asserts its meaning as a sign, or semeion, ultimately deriving from Greek and Roman representations of Nereids. The objects investigated here, harboring a special fondness for the mounted Nereid motif, are the so-called ‘toilet trays’ from Gandhara. These stone-carved concave discs usually come with interior relief decoration and typically range from 9 to 18cm in diameter. The term is derived from their initial identification as

Marshall (1951, 1:190; 2: 493) coined the term ‘toilet-tray’ following their excavation at Taxila. Pal (1986, 156) calls them ‘cosmetic trays’, and Francfort (1979, 5) uses ‘palette à fard’ without insisting their unilateral function for cosmetics. The refutation of the cosmetic theory is based on the absence of trace of pigments or organic substance (Falk 2010, 91-3); Francfort (2016, 309) attests to the contrary pointing to the chemical analysis of Hori (2007, 3-15), who finds traces of cinnabar (red) pigments and remnants of fatty acids on a palette in the Ancient Orient Museum in Tokyo. 4  Boardman 2015, 142. 5  See Falk 2010, 91-95, for an overview on the proposed functions; see also Dar 1979; Francfort 1979, 5; Pons 2011, 154; Francfort 2016, 30910. 6  For a lively discussion of the various classical iconography in Gandharan stone palettes, see Boardman 2015, 142-53; for the Indian, Scythian, or Parthian influences in the palettes’ style, see Marshall 1960, 17-9; Francfort 1979, 6-7; Pons 2011, 154-5; Nehru 1989, 71. 3 

Clark 1956, 153; Jupiter and Thetis (1811, Musée Graner, Aix-enProvence). I am grateful to the organizers of the conference ‘Greek Art in Motion,’ on the occasion of Sir John Boardman’s 90th birthday, held in Lisbon (May 2017), and for the patience of the editors for this volume. I would like to acknowledge my research assistant Prabhjeet Johal for her help in procuring the image rights and David Jongeward for reading the manuscript and the delightful discussions that ensued. I would also like to give very special thanks to Henri-Paul Francfort, not only for the permission to reproduce the images from his 1979 catalogue, but also for his unrivaled expertise on the subject, insightful feedback on the manuscript, and exemplary, collegial spirit with which he kindly engaged. All errors or shortcomings, however, are the author’s own. 2  La Grande Odalisque (1814, Louvre, Paris); Valpinçon Bather (1808, Louvre, Paris). 1 

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Bactria and Kushan Gandhara (flourishing in the late 1st to early 3rd century CE).7 The urge to see a Greco-Roman origin in the palettes, starting with unadulterated classical styles, then displaying progressively Indianising, Parthianising or Scythianising styles in the later period is paramount.8

as classical scholars we tend to simplify what is meant by ‘Greek,’ ‘Hellenistic,’ ‘Graecized Roman,’ or ‘Roman’ artistic styles. Quoting Ball, he concludes that all sources are equally influential and that ‘arguing for one hypothesis over the others is to miss the point.’19 Professor Boardman’s consistent interest in the fringes of the classical world from the early days of The Greeks Overseas (1964), leading to The Diffusion of Classical Art in Antiquity (1993), has decisively enabled newer perspectives, progressively more nuanced, to be offered from a classicist’s point of view, and thus complementing the now prolific South-Asian scholarship in the area. It is in this context I situate the current work on Gandharan stone palettes.

The extant corpus of the stone palettes amounts to between 200 and 300 in number, scattered amongst various museums, private collections, and the antiquities market.9 While most are stray finds without proper provenience, the original excavations at Sirkap (Taxila) yielded at least 33 palettes, whose archaeological contexts are known.10 Outside of Taxila, palettes with known proveniences are scattered around Swat and Charsadda area north of Peshawar, and isolated finds have been noted towards the east and south of Taxila into northwest India, including a couple in northern Bactria as well as southern Afghanistan.11 But the Kabul valley has turned up virtually nothing; in particular, its absence in Begram has been duly noted.12 Falk problematises the palettes’ relative paucity in Bactria when considering them as the ‘bridge’ between Hellenistic Bactria and Kushan Gandhara.13 Lo Muzio, who follows Erdösy’s redating of the Sirkap stratigraphy, downdates the stone palettes from Taxila to between mid-first century BCE and early 3rd century CE, with a floruit in first century CE.14 According to this view, the Sirkap stone palettes could chronologically overlap with the artistic phenomenon that is Gandhara, best known for its Kushan period sculpture in the first few centuries after Christ.15

If more than half of the entire corpus of stone palettes feature classical mythological narratives of some sort, the representation of an individual riding a sea-creature is one of the most common, recurring motifs among those.20 Most commonly, we see a single female figure riding a hybrid sea-creature (Figures 1-4), invariably regarded as being inspired by Hellenistic representations of Nereids, the fifty daughters of Nereus. They usually ride a version of the ketos, a hybrid marine creature well attested in antiquity.21 Their general ‘dragon-like’ appearance with a coily fish tail is often complemented by the foreparts of either a reptile (ketos), a horse (hippocamp), a feline, or a centaur (ichthyocentaur). At least two examples show a female figure intertwined with a Triton (Figure 3),22 while the latter can also be featured on his (or her) own. The variations on the form of the rider are also notable: fully nude, semi-nude, fully clad, frontal, three-quarters, and completely back-turned; sometimes we see male riders or an Eros figure, who can be riding alone, or occasionally accompanying a female rider. The mounted figure is seen holding a variety of small objects, including vessels and mirrors, and often interacts with her mount in one way or another (embracing, feeding, or touching), emphasizing a deeper communion.

The possible down dating of the stone palettes’ floruit, essentially from the Hellenistic Period to the Roman Imperial Period, may also bear interesting consequences regarding their possible sources of inspiration.16 It is not my intention to recapitulate outdated Orient-oder-Rom-style dissemination theories that date back a century to the days of Alfred Foucher, who coined the term ‘Graeco-Buddhist’; nor should one advocate Mortimer Wheeler’s rebuttal with the epithet ‘Romano-Buddhist.’ 17 The question of whether the art of Gandhara had more to do with lingering Hellenistic imperialism or a fresh infusion with direct Roman contact had since been reformulated into many shades in between, including further input from the Mediterranean world, as well as Iranian, Scythian and Parthian traditions under the general rubric of ‘Asian Hellenism.’18 Sir John Boardman’s chapter on Gandharan art, in his most recent book Greeks in Asia (2015), underscores the complexities arising from how

The iconographic style of the mounted Nereid motif is certainly worth reflecting upon since their consistent subject matter over the different types, as classified by Francfort, seems to give chronological texture to his typologies.23 To the ‘Hellenising’ Group A belong two steatite palettes with mounted Nereids who show three-quarter views of their nude backs (Figures 1, 2); a host of other palettes featuring ‘unadulterated’ classical mythology also belong here.24 In the ‘Parthian’ Group B we have two main types of Nereids: the Hellenising subgroup (B1) features more Indic-looking Nereids with voluptuous nude bottoms decorated with an Udiyanam (waistband), and their backs are shown nearly head-on (cf., Figure 3).25 The Parthianising subgroup (B2) features frontally mounted Nereids in three-quarter view, fully clad (cf., Figure

Pons 2011, 158; Boardman 1994, 116. Francfort 1979, 7, 83-91; Francfort 2016, 313-14. 9  Pons (2011) reports 300, while Lo Muzio (2011) estimates 200; the properly catalogued studies include about 150 from Dar (1979), Francfort (1979) and Tanabe (2002); for issues of forgeries, see Falk 2010, 105-6. 10  Dar (1979) lists 62 palettes as originating from Taxila. 11  Falk 2010, 89-91 (see map in Fig. 1). 12  Boardman 1992, 152. 13  Falk 2010, 102; for plausible precursors to the Gandharan palettes in Ptolemaic or Roman Egypt, Palmyra, and Sarmatia, see Boardman 2015, 143,150; Pons 2011, 153; see also Falk 2010, 94. 14  Erdösy 1990; Lo Muzio 2011, 338. 15  For the traditional dating, see Francfort (2016, 311-12), who disagrees with Erdösy’s chronology (private communication). 16  Even with the traditional dates, the palettes’ presence in the first century CE makes the Hellenistic/Roman question relevant (cf. Francfort 2016, 315). 17  Foucher 1905-51, vol. 2, 401ff; Foucher 1913; Wheeler 1949. 18  Most notably, see Nehru 1989; Huntington 1999, 110. 7  8 

Boardman 2015, 167, quoting from Ball 2000, 139-48. Francfort’s catalogue (1979) shows that 25% of the palettes to feature a marine monster carrying 0-2 people. 21  For a spotlight on classical representations of ketos, see Boardman 1987. 22  New York, Metropolitan Museum inv. no. 1987.142.41. 23  see also, Francfort 2016, 313-14. 24  Francfort 1979, 9-26, cat. no. 1-20. 25  Francfort 1979, 30, cat. no. 24 (pl. 7); The New York Nereid with Triton (Figure 3) would belong to this group. 19  20 

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Figure 1. Gandharan stone palette from Sirkap. Nereid on ketos with Eros. Green steatite. Diam. 8cm. Taxila Museum inv. no. 175/1932-33 (After Francfort 1979, pl. 5 no. 9).

Figure 2. Gandharan stone palette (said to be from Taxila). Nereid with mirror on a hippocamp. Green steatite. Diam. 12cm. Museum für Indische Kunst, Berlin, no. I117 (© Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Museum für Asiatische Kunst / Jörg von Bruchhausen).

Figure 3. Gandharan stone palette. Nereid embraced by a two-tailed Triton holding a dolphin. Diam. 11.43cm. New York, Metropolitan Museum, Samuel Eilenberg Collection, Gift of Samuel Eilenberg, inv. no. 1987.142.41 (© CC0 1.0 Public Domain Dedication).

Figure 4. Gandharan stone palette. ‘Parthianizing’ Nereid riding a ketos. Schist. Diam. 13.5cm. New York, Metropolitan Museum, Samuel Eilenberg Collection, Gift of Samuel Eilenberg, inv. no. 1987.142.107. Close to Francfort no. 41 (© The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Image source: Art Resource, NY).

4);26 also a number of male riders belong to this subgroup.27 The ‘degraded’ Parthian subgroup (B3) contains a couple of fully clad Nereids awkwardly foreshortened by virtue of sitting in a fully frontal position towards the viewer.28 The

third and last category of Francfort, the ‘Indian’ Group C (and AC) usually contains riderless ketoi, hippocamps or the Makara, the Indian sea monster.29

Francfort (1979, 41, cat. no. 41) is very close to New York Metropolitan Museum inv. no. 1987.142.107 (Behrendt 2007, 9, Fig. 4). 27  Francfort 1979, 36-9, cat. no. 33-37. 28  Francfort 1979, 42-3, cat. no. 43-4; these, however, belong to the

since modified, ‘Indo-Scythian’ group of Francfort (2016, 314). 29  Francfort 1979, 47-50, 57-8, cat. no. 50-3, 55, 67-9; Francfort (2016) renames these groups A and AC into ‘Hellenising’, B as ‘Indo-Parthian’; and B3 and C as ‘Indo-Scythian.’

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At the outset we seem to be seeing a textbook developmental narrative, starting with Hellenistic styles that progressively display Indianising trends (with the Parthians helping the said transition); in other words, could the initial interest in three-dimensional representations (rear view) die out to be replaced with progressively flattened and frontal depictions?30 The limited archaeological data that we do have, however, seem to resist a clear chronological ordering of Francfort’s typological groups. The original publication of the Taxila excavation shows that the majority of the palettes belonging to the ‘Parthian’ style group B and the ‘Hellenising’ group A actually come from the same context labeled III-II.31 If anything, the slightly earlier layer IV contains a handful of Indianising Group C palettes and one Group B palette, all of which feature riderless ketoi.32 The single find in a yet earlier layer VI-V contains a Group B ‘Parthian’ banquet scene. All mounted riders of all styles exclusively come from the latest layer III-II.33 While it appears that a few items in Group B and C in fact predate Group A, the relatively small number of data points makes any conclusions premature. We are thus left to make sense of the different stylistic representations as a combination of multiple factors including chronology, workshop practice, ethnic diversity and perhaps migrant artisans coexisting side-by-side with local ones.

Figure 5. Greek mirror with Nereid riding a marine creature with ram head. 3rd century BCE. Paris, Médaille et Antique de la Bibliotèque Nationale de France, inv. bronze.1356 (©Bibliotèque Nationale de France).

Nevertheless, the key iconographic trait that unequivocally connects all Gandharan Nereids to their classical counterpart is the recurring posterior-view of these maidens, to which we now turn. The nude rear view, which never occurs in male riders, occurs in about half of all mounted Nereids—a high portion that merits scrutiny. It is worth considering that in the first two centuries of ubiquitous mounted-Nereid iconography in ancient Greece, never once was a rear view displayed until the late 4th to 3rd century BCE; when it first appears it does so with much fanfare, as we see in the case of the bronze cover of a mirror, housed in the Bibliothèque Nationale de France (Figure 5).34 As one of the first standalone back-turned Nereids, she rides a ram-headed ketos, showing off the titillating strophion running across her back. The exposed contours of her buttocks are punctuated by the u-shaped frame of the ‘dropped-down’ drapery—a systematic iconographic trait we see in virtually all Gandharan examples of nude female riders. The twist in her upper torso to meet the gaze of her mount adds dynamism to her gesture, both securing her position and conveying a sense of swift movement. A more developed representation, but essentially preserving the same iconography, is shown on a silver lid of a pyxis found in Taranto; only here she is holding a fan and her arm bracelets take the place of the strophion.35 When the back-turned Nereid is part of a cortège of female bodies, as in the numerous marine thiasoi, her particular Francfort (2016, 314) suggests the Hellenising group to be dated the earliest, to ca. 2nd C BCE. 31  Marshall 1951, 2: 482; Francfort (2016, 311) also remarks on the difficulties of establishing typological chronologies from the extant archaeological records. 32  These riderless ketoi corresponds to Francfort 1979, cat. no. 45, 50, 76. 33  The chronology following Erdösy (1990) would down-date the layer about a century to 1st and 2nd century CE. 34  3rd century BCE, Paris, Médaille et Antiques de la Bibliotèque national de France, inv. bronze.1356. 35  late 3rd-2nd century BCE, Taranto, Museo Nazionale inv. 22.42922.430 (LIMC VI ‘Nereid’ no. 40). 30 

Figure 6. Impression of carnelian. Nereid riding marine centaur holding a shield. Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum IX B 555. Cornell Gem Impressions Collection inv. no. 04_2_0472 (©Division of Rare Manuscript Collections, Cornell University Library). pose may be one of the multitude of angles that capture an interest in full 3-dimensional ‘access’ to a beautiful female body (Figure 7). Here, one recalls Pliny’s remark about the open-aired temple allowing Praxiteles’ famed Knidia to be

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Figure 7. Roman meerwesen Sarcophagus at San Crisogono, lower church, Rome. Nereids riding Tritons, who hold up a portrait of the deceased. 2nd century CE (photograph by I. Shurygin). accessible from all sides.36 Singled out in isolation, however, the posterior view acquires an independent sense of import. More relevant here is Lucian, in talking about Knidia, how the back door gives ‘those who wanted to get a good view of the Goddess from behind,’ and proffers some detailed and ebullient exclamations regarding her ‘well-proportioned back.’37 It is certainly no accident that the first back-turned Nereid appears during the time of Praxiteles. Moreover, the clever visual pun regarding the back-turned nudes on covers, and especially on those for mirrors, arises from the invitation to engage with it physically. When turning the cover inside out, it looks as if one is trying to access the hidden side of the represented body in full-frontal glory. But this gesture is only to be met by one’s very own (frontal) reflection—just as Narcissus once had experienced, gazing into the surface of the pond. The volumetric play on perspective and the anticipation of the viewer, with full 3-dimensional awareness, are elements that are certainly not lost on the viewer, as is the metaphor of the reflective surface as water (the pond of Narcissus and the sea of the Nereid).

intelligible only after the moment of Euclidean deduction— that the incident and reflective angles on mirror reflections are equal—and hence the mirrored reflection of Venus’ gaze is actually laid upon the viewer. 39 The Gandharan Nereid on the palette in Berlin (Figure 2) exhibits her abundant three-quarter posterior strategically wrapped around by the drapery, whose end clings over her arm, and thus made taught as she holds up high what seems to be a mirror. Mounted Nereids with mirrors show up occasionally in the classical repertoire, but are much more pronounced in the Roman tradition (especially on mosaics) than in the Greek tradition.40 I believe that the mounted Nereid holding a mirror might reflect some original connection to the idea of the Iliadic shield of Achilles being born across the sea by his mother Thetis, which is by far the most dominant subject in early Greek iconography of the mounted Nereids.41 The impressive shield devices can often seem like a reflection of its bearer (Figure 6), and sometimes it is just that: the brilliant reflective surface of the shield, on the Pompeiian painting from the triclinium of Casa di Paccius Alexander, presented to Thetis by Hephaistos, carries an ominous reflection of the goddess herself.42 Although short of being a Velazquean pun on the gaze, the mirror held up by our back-turned Gandharan Nereid in Berlin (Figure 2) nevertheless provides a clear invitation to meditate on the act of viewing.

We can further navigate the meaning of the uninhibited gaze solicited by these back-turned bodies by enlisting the help of Baroque and Neoclassical masters. The rear view of a woman’s body is an invitation to gaze at the curvaceous contours laid bare, without scrutiny and without confrontation: a scopophilic paradise. It is construed almost as ‘casual,’ even a safe voyeurism without the threat of a returning gaze. At the same time, the mounting tension begins to take form in a kind of Husserlian protention—an imagined eventuality that the figure might turn around to break the safety of the unilateral gaze. In this sense, both Velazquez in his Rokeby Venus and Ingres in La Grande Odalisque realize this tension by subverting the comfort of the unidirectional gaze.38 In the latter, the (male) viewer is left with a discomfiture regarding the voyeuristic visual message of the rear view of a female body and the direct returning gaze of the Odalisque. In the former, the safety of looking at Venus’ sweeping nude body from behind is disrupted by the secondary realization that one might have ‘been made’ by Venus’ mirror. This fact is made

The introductory quotation from Kenneth Clark’s remark on Ingres’ nude elucidates the obsessive distortion of form that the Neoclassical painter so masterfully undertakes, memorably capturing the fetishistic understanding of the female posterior form. Once our vision locks onto the octopian rear view of the Odalisque, one can never dissociate her identity from her distorted bodily otherness. In the same way, I believe that the certain back-turned pose in the nude became a semeion for the Nereids and what they stand for, an attribute if you will, that allows as quick an identification as the case of Athena with her aegis. So much so that we are able Snow (1989) subverts the hegemony of the (male) gaze theory in his reading of the Rokeby Venus. 40  See for example, (LIMC VI ‘Nereids’ no. 127); a few isolated cases in Greece have been identified in late 4th century BCE Apulian vases showing single mounted Nereids (LIMC VI ‘Nereids’ no. 28 and 29). 41  Barringer 1995, 17-44. 42  Pompeii IX.1.7 = Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli, inv. no. 110338 (Squire 2013, 171: Figure 7). 39 

Pliny, NH 36.20-21. Lucian, Amores 13-14. Rokeby Venus (1647-51), National Gallery, London; for the long tradition of Venus and her mirror as a symbol for vanitas, and a selfreflexive awareness of the female form as being-looked-at, see Bal 2001, 249ff. 36  37  38 

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to identify the back-turned Galatea as a Nereid, even as she stands on land, locked in embrace with Polyphemos in the well-known painting from the Casa della Caccia Antica.43

a standing to a mounted iconography most likely received a boost from Aeschylus’ Achilleis trilogy (c. 490 BCE), where a chorus of Nereid riders (on dolphins) opens the second play.50 The arming-of-Achilles marine cortège remained a strong iconographic tradition throughout South Italy in the fourth century BCE, where we also start to see single mounted Nereids that are thought to be ‘quotations’ from the full version. These ‘quotations’ consists of numerous unaccompanied Nereid riders on tondos of vases, as well as figurines such as the Terracotta gilt appliqués decorating wooden sarcophagi from Apulia.51 Interestingly, these unaccompanied riders still invariably feature a piece of armor in their hand. After all, it is this very armor that is symbolic of Achilles’ decisive change of heart that ultimately led to his death—the central concept on which his kleos depends and therefore his entire heroic identity.52 These weapon-carrying Nereids are appropriately known as protective beings for anyone traveling at sea, but their intimate connection to the death of Achilles make them powerful symbols of the critical transition between this life and the next. Moreover, when liquid containing vessel interiors (such as tondos of kylikes) are decorated with mounted Nereids, they are particularly interesting for their phenomenological quality underscored by the experience of the user, who sees the mounted Nereid splashing through the wine-dark sea as he drains the contents.

When seeking direct comparanda from the West, the prototypical example cited in almost all scholarly treatments on Gandharan Nereids is the so-called altar of Domitius Ahenobarbus, the impressive Hellenistic relief sculpture dated to 2nd-1st century BCE and housed in the Munich Glyptothek.44 As the sole surviving, complete sculptural representations of the ‘marine thiasos’ before the Roman Imperial period, it shows a marine cortège of mounted Nereids as attendants in the wedding procession of Poseidon and Amphitrite.45 The 4th century BCE Skopaic origin of this motif has been much debated, as has the original subject matter of Skopas’ oeuvre that Pliny saw in the Circus Flaminius at Rome.46 Because Pliny mentions the presence of Achilles, Thetis and Poseidon accompanied by a myriad of mounted Nereids, the subject matter of Skopas’ work is customarily debated between the arming of Achilles and the ferrying of Achilles’ soul to the Blessed Isles.47 Regardless of the precise identification of the subject matter of the Skopaic thiasos, which is believed to have been the ultimate inspiration and source for all later representations of the theme, its association with the Iliadic hero Achilles is indicative of the marine thiasos’ strong interconnection with the funerary realm. On the other hand, Nereids as nuptial attendants are relatively rare and are usually depicted unmounted except for, naturally, when the said union is between the aquatic divinities, Poseidon and Amphitrite. Of the 486 objects in the LIMC catalogue on Nereids, merely 6 entries represent the cortège of Poseidon and Amphitrite (the Munich relief is the only sculptural work, the other 5 being mosaics).48 So it follows naturally that the Munich relief ’s subject of the divine union is, if anything, an extremely rare exception to the general classical iconographic tradition of mounted Nereids. Hence the problem with the formulaic invocation of the Ahenobarbus Munich reliefs as the classical prototype par excellence for the mounted Nereids in Gandharan scholarship, I believe, is that it has caused scholars to overlook the more dominant and powerful associations that mounted Nereids have traditionally carried. Harry Falk, for example, focuses precisely on the nuptial associations of the Nereids, to conclude quite literally that these palettes (at least those with Nereids) were used as libation trays at wedding ceremonies.49

The visual tradition of the arming motif remained current down to the later Hellenistic and Roman period, even if their decorative, sensual appeal and aquatic associations started taking on a life of their own. This can be seen especially in numerous Hellenistic and Roman period gems, where a single Nereid rider holds a piece of armor (most often the shield; Figure 6).53 Many of such gems, coins, intaglio seals, and medallions also show the Nereids from their back, with playful drapery caressing their bodily contours as framing devices. The Gandharan palettes preserve much of this standard iconography, and could have easily found inspiration from numerous portable objects as such.54 Interestingly, however, the billowing-drapery motif, where a rainbow-like shape frames the head almost like a halo, is seen predominantly in Roman period works, including gems, lamps, mosaics and sarcophagi. It also continued to be a recognizable attribute of Nereids in post-antique Coptic and Byzantine works of art. The formulaic rendering of halo-like, billowing drapery on the ‘Parthianising’ palette in the Victoria and Albert Museum (Figure 4), and many of the other palettes in the same subgroup B2, may then indicate the importance of these later Roman sources.

There is very little ambiguity about the origin of the mounted Nereid motif, as they start appearing in 5th century BCE vase painting almost exclusively as the bearers of Achilles’ armor. Earlier Archaic representations of the arming feature standing Nereids rather than mounted ones. This change from

Despite its uncertainties, the potential down-dating of the Gandharan stone palettes to the Roman Imperial Period, and the consistent survival of the mounted Nereids’ funerary

Pompeii VII.4.48 = Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli, inv. no. 27687. 44  Munich Gyptothek, inv. no. 239 (LIMC VI ‘Nereid,’ no. 423). 45  See Lattimore 1976, for a classic treatment on the marine thiasos. 46  Piny, NH 36.4.26; for an overview of the debate on Skopas’ Thiasos, see Barringer 1995, 144-47; for the Munich relief as the oeuvre by Skopas, see Mingazzini 1971; for positing a different sculptor named Skopas in first century BCE, see Coarelli 1968, 326-7. 47  For the ‘arming’ theory, see Picard 1988, 220; for the ‘Blessed Isles’ theory, see Lattimore 1976, 13; Bieber 1955, 25. 48  LIMC VI ‘Nereid,’ nos. 418-23. 49  Falk 2010, 102ff.

Barringer 1995, 142. e.g., Red-figure Apulian cup: Carlsruhe, Bad. Landesmusuem B 11; and Apulian Terracotta appliqué: Paris, Louvre CA 6823 & 6824 (LIMC VI ‘Nereid’ nos. 377, 358 respectively). 52  For tracing the idea of immortality to the arming-of-Achilles, see Kossatz-Deissman 1981, 128. 53  Impression (Cornell Gem Impressions Collection 04_2_0472) of a carnelian in Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum IX B 555 (LIMC VI ‘Nereid,’ no. 410). 54  Francfort (2016) connects the Greco-Roman themes reflected in a variety of Hellenistic emblemata found in the Near East and Central Asia.

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association throughout antiquity, allow us to reflect upon a particularly prolific manifestation in the funeral art of Rome—the so-called meerwesen sarcophagi (Figure 7).55 Mounted Nereids are truly ubiquitous on Roman sarcophagi, as they are part and parcel of the ‘marine’ thiasos, named for their striking visual resonance with the dionysiac thiasos— the only subject matter on sarcophagi that competes in popularity with the former. The characteristic dionysiac procession of merrymaking, creating a blissful vision of the deceased’s afterlife, is now transposed onto sea: Maenads consorting with satyrs are thus transformed into Nereids riding marine centaurs (or tritons), frolicking on the body of water that has a long-standing structural connection to death and the transition to the underworld. The exact relationship between the two thiasoi is still being debated, but their overwhelming popularity is a strong indication of their common eschatological objective.56 Whether it is the voyage across the vast ocean to the Isles of the Blessed, or the Bacchic enthusiasmos overseen by the savior god himself, the blissful afterlife seems nothing but a guarantee.57 These two types of thiasoi also share a common iconographical element of backturned female nudes, whether they are mounted Nereids or dancing Maenads (Figure 8).58 Once again, the problem is the dynamics of transmission. It is difficult to imagine the funerary art of the Roman sarcophagus having a direct impact on the art of Gandhara. While the trade between the Roman Empire and Indian subcontinent is rather well-attested numismatically, sarcophagi themselves likely would not have traveled.59 Nevertheless, there is a very interesting case study by Doris Srinivasan that compellingly connects Gandharan funerary iconography with the imago clipeata, or medallion portrait that commonly occurs on Roman sarcophagi.60 In fact, a large number of meerwesen sarcophagi feature such imagines clipeatae with portraits (often encased in a shell, a variation on the shield motif) being physically carried, as if the presentified soul is literally being ferried across the ocean (see Figure 7). The female portrait roundel above the body of the Buddha in the Parinirvana relief at the Metropolitan Museum may operate on a slightly different semantic level, but its visual indebtedness to Roman sarcophagi is certainly worth considering.61

Figure 8. Dancing Maenad: Back-turned nude female figure (with dropped-down drapery) on a Roman dionysiac sarcophagus. Second century CE. Munich Glyptothek 365 (illustration by author after Matz 1968, pl. 98). acquired a taste for spotlighting the voluptuous behind of a nude woman, especially as it pertains to all kinds of dionysiac themes: the satyr-maenad pair seen from a birds eye view, on the palette from the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, presents an awkward acrobatic challenge for the poor lass in restraint, whose buttocks and upper torso are both rendered frontally!62 The pièce de resistance at the New Delhi Museum features what is understood to be a festive union of Dionysos and Ariadne (Figure 9). 63 The divine couple is surrounded by complex scenes of viticulture that are carried down to the drunken figure at the very bottom, who is enjoying the powerful effects of wine in his slumber. Ariadne sits with her back turned towards us in three-quarter view, the droppeddown drapery revealing her abundant curves, as she raises her goblet towards her future husband Dionysos, who reciprocates by wrapping his exceptionally long arm around the former. This divine pair is most likely the archetype for the numerous ‘amorous drinking couples’ on the Gandharan stone palettes, which also feature the nude female from behind, rather formulaically with cross-straps on their back and much characteristically, with the dropped-down drapery (e.g., Figure 10).64 Representations of such drinking couples

Coming back to the Gandharan palettes, we now see that a pattern emerges in the employment of the back-turned image of a female nude, which goes beyond the particular beautyand-the-beast theme. The Gandharan artists seem to have Sarcophagus from San Crisogono, lower church: Rumpf 1939, 35, no. 87; Francfort (2016, 311) is highly skeptical of Erdösy (1990)’s down-dating; see also Dar 1993, for reassertion of the traditional dates. The earlier dates make direct association with Roman sarcophagi less compelling, but the palettes’ chronological overlap into the Roman imperial period still validates the following reflections on the Roman visual tradition. 56  Lattimore 1976, 13-4, 28; Meuli 1958, 504-5; for an extensive treatment on the marine motif as an independent expression of pleasure and bliss in the present, see Zanker and Ewald 2012, 112-29. 57  The juxtaposition of mounted Nereids and Satyr-Maenad pairs on the stucco barrel vault of the tomb of the Valerii on the Via Latina in Rome (mid 2nd C CE) is extremely suggestive (Zanker and Ewald 2012, 128, Fig. 115). 58  Female figure on a Roman dionysiac sarcophagus, 2nd century CE. Munich Glyptothek inv. no. 365. (Matz 1968, pl. 98). 59  For Roman objects found in India, see Suresh 2004. 60  Srinivasan 2006. 61  New York, Metropolitan Museum, inv. no. 2015.500.4.1. 55 

London, Victoria and Albert Museum inv. no. IS-326-1960 (Francfort 1979, 11, cat. no. 3, pl. 2). 63  New Delhi Museum, inv. no. 200/1932-33 (Francfort 1979, 20-22, cat. no. 14, pl. 7). 64  Peshawar Museum, inv. no. 72; see also, Francfort 1979, 18, cat. no. 62 

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Figure 9. Gandharan stone palette. Wedding of Dionysos and Ariadne (?) and/or Dionysiac assembly. Diam. 16.7cm. Delhi Museum inv. no. 200/1932-3 (new inv. 59.536/3) (After Francfort 1979, pl. 7, no. 14).

Figure 10. Gandharan stone palette. Amorous drinking couple. Beige steatite. Diam 9.8cm. Peshawar Museum inv. no. 72 (after Francfort 1978, pl. 5, no. 10).

Figure 11. Gandharan statue base(?). Amorous drinking couples framed by lion feet stool. Lahore Museum inv. 1914 (2nd century CE) (©Lahore Museum, Photographer: P. Oszvald). extend beyond the stone palettes to the general repertoire of Gandharan sculpture proper, as it is seen in the well-known statue base in the Lahore Museum featuring two bacchanalian pairs framed by stylised lion feet (Figure 11).65 With their bared backs sensuously accented with cross-straps and framed by the dropped-down drapery, the women sit on the laps of their male consorts who face outward, as they twist their torsos to meet the formers’ gaze: it is truly the spitting image of the numerous mounted Nereids engaged in an amorous dalliance

with their beastly counterparts on the meerwesen sarcophagi (Figure 12).66 The main thesis of this paper hinges upon the argument that the back-turned nude female, closely coupled with her ‘mount,’ is a visual entry point into which the mounted Nereid motif semiotically resonates with dionysiac representations.67 The predominant ‘drinking motifs’ on the stone palettes Sarcophagus in the Catacombs of Praetestatus, Rome; See also, Kim 2011, 32, for the back-turned nude on the Kushan Mathuran stupa railing pillar (Cleveland, inv. no. 1977.34). 67  A more direct mythological and ritualistic associations between the Nereids and Dionysos have also been amply demonstrated by Barringer (1995, 69-94). 66 

11; Amorous drinking couple with back-turned nude female, private collection, Japan: Pons 2011, 167, fig. 25. 65  Lahore Museum, inv. no. 1914.

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way of compartmentalising the lived culture in a way that we do not see in the scholarship of, for example, Etruscan art, which is in fact even more heavily indebted to the Greeks. That the Gandharans saw their (more local) Yaksa king Kubera in representations of Dionysos, or saw Theravadan Cakravāla Cosmology in the ontology of dionysiac motifs—that artists were choosing ‘signifiers in the Greek vocabulary to express a Buddhist signified’—are highly compelling arguments and difficult to dispute outright.71 But it is also difficult to fully grasp the actual process of syncretisation in such neatly delineated binary categories of foreign/local, signifier/ signified, and East/West. Perhaps it was not any more jarring to see a favored classical deity in the Buddhist art of Gandhara than it was to see a Hindu god in service of the Buddhist pantheon in India? It is along these lines of reasoning that Katsume Tanabe’s otherwise provocative thesis that the eternal dionysiac bliss finds a parallel in the Mahayana Pure Land doctrine of the Sukhavati heaven, is often discredited.72 His consistent and unilateral theory that all motifs on Gandharan stone palettes find a place in the eschatological scheme of Buddhism is often evoked as exaggerated. But despite its literalness, I am generally sympathetic to his funerary reading of the palettes, which I find, for reasons argued in this paper, as compelling as any other theory proposed so far.73 I also do not subscribe to the strict dichotomy between religious versus secular functions of these palettes and follow Lo Muzio in seeing the users of these objects as one and the same as those frequenting Buddhist monuments and sculptures.74 Through the leitmotif of the back-turned Odalisquean nude, at once erotically captivating with a twinge of ‘otherness,’ and at the same time invoking visions of a dionysiac afterlife of eternal bliss, the Gandharan Nereids were able to capitalize on its connection to popular, and powerful culture of drinking, which in itself hardly needs justification.

Figure 12 Amorous couple (Nereid riding Triton) and erotes on a sarcophagus in Rome, Catacombs of Praetextatus. Second quarter of 3rd century CE (Image Source: D-DAI-ROM-68.938, Photographer: M. Hutzel). have been duly noted, with the numerous drinking couples, banquets, and the god Dionysos himself, as well as representations of unidentified drunk male figures being supported by attendants.68 The mounted Nereid motif, being an extension and variation of the dionysiac repertoire rather than an indication of the palettes’ relationship to marriage rituals, has immediate visual and interpretative advantages. Not only does the wine-filled vessel compellingly transform these Nereid-carrying ketoi into ‘wave-riding beasts on the wine-dark sea’;69 more importantly, they provide a solid link to the domestic sphere, of the popular, yet somewhat puzzling presence of dionysiac representations in Gandharan Buddhist art.

Bibliography Bal, Mieke. 2001. ‘The Knee of Narcissus,’ in M. Bal and N. Bryson, Looking in: The Art of Viewing, 239-58. Amsterdam: G+B Arts International. Ball, Warwick. 2000. Rome in the East. London: Routledge. Barringer, Judith. 1995. Divine Escorts: Nereids in Archaic and Classical Greek Art. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Behrendt, Kurt. 2007. The Art of Gandhara in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art. Bieber, Margarete. 1955. The Sculpture of the Hellenistic Age. New York: Columbia University Press. Boardman, John. 1987. ‘’Very Like a Whale’- Classical Monsters.’ In Monsters and Demons in the Ancient and Medieval Worlds. Papers presented in Honor of Edith Porada, edited by A.E. Farkas, P.O. Harper, and E.B. Harrison, 7384. Mainz am Rhein: Philipp von Zabern. Boardman, John. 1992. ‘Palettes.’ In Crossroads of Asia: Transformation in Image and Symbol in the Art of Ancient

The syncretic context of Gandharan Buddhism into which dionysiac representations have found renewed meaning has been discussed abundantly in the literature.70 The majority of recent scholarship tries to negotiate the seeming disparity between our classical understanding of the visual culture (West) and what we understand to be the local tradition (East). This dichotomy, albeit valuable for our understanding of the complex dynamics of Gandhara, has a For drunk figures, Dionysos or otherwise: Francfort 1979, cat. no. 13, 19, 25; drinking couples: Francfort 1979, cat. no. 10-1, 32, 56-60, 623, 78, 82-3, 89; banquets: Francfort 1979, cat. no. 27-31; even a seated Buddha-like figure also holds a drinking vessel: Francfort 1979, no 46. 69  In those without the exergue, the negative space below is still always enclosed, so that the liquid stays contained under the ‘belly of the beast’; Falk’s theory does bears the advantage of seeing wine as the libational medium. 70  Carter 1968, 1982, 1992; Tanabe 2003; Pons 2011; Kim 2011. 68 

Pons 2011, 169-70. Tanabe 2002; for reservations, see Falk 2010, 94; Pons 2011, 159. After all, most of the nuptial imagery in ancient Greece was also funerary, and the deep structural resonance between marriage and death is well-known topos in Classical scholarship. 74  Lo Muzio 2011, 339. 71  72  73 

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Afghanistan and Pakistan, edited by E. Errington and J. Cribb. Cambridge: Ancient India and Iran Trust. Boardman, John. 1994. The Diffusion of Classical Art in Antiquity. London: Thames and Hudson. Boardman, John. 2015. The Greeks in Asia. London: Thames and Hudson. Carter, Martha. 1968. ‘Dionysiac Aspects of Kushan Art.’ Ars Orientalis 7: 121-46. Carter, Martha. 1982. ‘The Bacchants of Mathura: New Evidence of Dionysiac Yaksha Imagery from Kushan Mathura.’ Bulletin of the Cleveland Museum of Art 69: 247-57. Carter, Martha. 1992. ‘Dionysiac Festivals and Gandharan Imagery.’ In Banquets d’orient (Res Orientales IV), edited by in R. Gyselen, 51-60. Bures-sur-Yvette: Group pour l’étude de la Civilization du Moyen-Orient. Clark, Kenneth. 1956. The Nude: A Study in Ideal Form. Bollingen Series XXXV. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Coarelli, Filippo. 1968. ‘’L’ara di Domizio Enobarbo’ e la cultura artistica in Roma nel II secolo a.C.’ Dialoghi di Archeologia 2: 302-68. Dar, Saifur Rahman. 1979. ‘Toilet Trays from Gandhāra and Beginning of Hellenism in Pakistan.’ Journal of Central Asia 2: 141-84. Dar, Saifur Raman. 1993. ‘Dating the Monuments of Taxila.’ Studies in the History of Art 31: 103-22.  Erdösy, G. 1990. ‘Taxila: Political History and Urban Structure.’ In South Asian Archaeology 1987: Proceedings of the Ninth International Conference of the Association of South Asian Archaeologists in Western Europe. Serie Orientale Roma 66.2, edited by M. Taddei and P. Callieri, 657-74. Rome: Istituto italiano per il Medio ed Estremo Oriente. Falk, Harry. 2010. ‘Libation Trays from Gandhara.’ Bulletin of the Asia Institute 24: 89-113. Foucher, Alfred. 1905-1951. L’art Greco-bouddhique du Gandhara: étude sur les origines de l’influence Classique dans l’art Bouddhique de l’Inde et de l’Extrême-Orient. 3 vols. Paris: E. Leroux. Foucher, Alfred. 1913. ‘L’origine Grecque de l’image du Bouddha.’ Annales du Musée Guimet Bibliothèque de Vulgarisation 38: 231-72. Francfort, Henri-Paul. 1979. Les palettes du Gandhāra. Mémoires de la délégation archéologique Français en Afghanistan, Tome XXIII. Paris: Diffusion de Boccard. Francfort, Henri-Paul. 2016. ‘Figures emblématiques de l’art grec sur les palettes du Gandhāra.’ In La Grèce dans les profondeurs de l’Asie: colloque organisé avec le soutien de la fondation Khôra (Institut de France) et de la fondation Stavros Niarchos: Actes, edited by J. Jouanna, V. Schiltz and M. Zink, 305-39. Paris: Diffusion de Bocard. Hori, Akira. 2007. Toilet Trays of Gandhara. Tokyo: Ancient Orient Museum. Huntington, Susan L. 1999. The Art of Ancient India: Buddhist, Hindu, Jain. New York: Weatherhill. Kim, SeungJung. 2011. ‘The Beginnings of the East-West Dialogue: An Examination of Dionysiac Representations in Gandharan and Kushan-Mathuran Art.’ In Beyond Boundaries: East and West Cross-Cultural Encounters, edited by M. Y.-L. Huang, 16-34. Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholar Publishing. Kossatz-Deissman, Anneliese. 1981. ‘Achilleus.’ In Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae, vol. 1: 37-200.

Lattimore, Steven. 1976. The Marine Thiasos in Greek Sculpture. Los Angeles: Institute of Archaeology, University of California. Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae, 1981-1999, Zürich: Artemis (LIMC). Lo Muzio, Ciro. 2011. ‘Gandharan Toilet-trays: Some Reflections on Chronology.’ Ancient Civilizations from Scythia to Siberia 17: 331-40. Marshall, John. 1951. Taxila: An Illustrated Account of Archaeological Excavations Carried Out Under the Orders of the Government of India Between the Years 1913 and 1934. 3 vols. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Marshall, John. 1960. The Buddhist Art of Gandhara: The Story of the Early School, its Birth, Growth and Decline. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Matz, Friedrich. 1968. Die Dionysischen Sarkophage, vol. 2. Berlin: Gebr. Mann Verlag. Meuli, Karl. 1958. Nachwort in Johann Jakob Bachofens Gesammelte Werke 7. Basel. Mingazzini, Paolino. 1971. ‘Sui Quattro Scultori di nome Scopas.’ Rivista del R. Istituto d’Archeologia e Storia dell’Arte 18: 19-90. Nehru, Lolita. 1989. Origins of the Gandhāran Style: A Study of Contributory Influences. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Pal, Pratapaditya. 1986. Indian Sculpture: A Catalogue of the Los Angeles County Museum of Art Collection. Vol. 1, Circa 500 B.C. – A.D. 700. Berkeley: University of California Press. Pons, Jessie. 2011. ‘From Gandharan Trays to Gandharan Buddhist Art: The Persistence of Hellenistic Motifs from the Second Century BC and Beyond.’ In From Pella to Gandhara: Hybridisation and Identity in the Art and Architecture of the Hellenistic East, edited by A. Kouremenos, S. Chandrasekaran, and R. Rossi, 153-76. Oxford: Archeopress. Rumpf, Andreas. 1939. Die Meerwesen auf den antiken Sarkophagreliefs. Die antiken Sarkophagrelief vol. 1. Berlin: G. Grote. Snow, Edward. 1989. ‘Theorizing the Male Gaze: Some Problems.’ Representations 25: 30-41. Squire, Michael. 2013. ‘Ekphrasis at the Forge and the Forging of Ekphrasis: The ‘Shield of Achilles’ in Graeco-Roman Word and Image.’ Word & Image 29, 2: 157-91. Srinivasan, Doris Meth. 2006. ‘From Roman Clipeata Imago to Gandharan Image Medallion and Embellishments of the Parinirvana Legend.’ In Architects, Master Builders, Craftsmen: Work-yard Organization and Artistic Production in Hellenistic Asia (D. Faccenna Festschrift), edited by P. Callieri, 247-69. Rome: IsIAO. Tanabe, Katsume. 2002 ‘Greek, Roman and Parthian Influences on the Pre-Kushana Gandharan ‘Toilet-Trays’ and Forerunners of Buddhist Paradise (Pâramita).’ Silk Road Art and Archaeology 8: 73-100. Tanabe, Katsumi. 2003. ‘The Earliest Paramita Imagery of Gandharan Buddhist Reliefs—A New Interpretation of the So-called Dionysiac Imagery.’ Silk Road Art and Archaeology 9: 87-105. Wheeler, R. E. Mortimer. 1949. ‘Romano-Buddhist: An Old Problem Restated.’ Antiquity 89: 4-19. Zanker, Paul, and Björn Ewald. 2012. Living with Myths. The Imagery of Roman Sarcophagi. Trans. J. Slater. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

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The Attic Pottery from the Persephoneion of Locri Epizefiri between Ritual Practices and Worship Elvia Giudice and Giada Giudice Locri Epizefiri is a Greek colony that was founded on the Ionian coast of Southern Calabria; according to the literary tradition,1 the Locrian Persephoneion played a privileged role in the sacred geography of Western Greekness. The testimony of Livius,2 who indisputably places the temple of Persephone extra urbem, has strongly influenced the studies aimed at identifying the sacred area. The archaeologist P. Orsi eventually succeeded in solving a very controversial issue. He began excavating the area between the Abbadessa and Mannella hills in 1908, in an extra urbem site connected to the city walls.3 During the first dig he was already able to define the area occupied by the shrine, on a small terrace facing NWSE on the slopes of the hill of Mannella. In the same dig the scholar discovered and began exploring the ‘great favissa’, a large drainage ditch: beneath a mass of practically sterile soil, approximately 2 metres deep, there was a layer of pottery dating to different periods, which was followed by another layer of fragments of pinakes and finally a third thick bank of figurines and vases of different shapes, including fragments of amphorae and large kraters. The absence of specific indications regarding the divinity being worshipped created a scholarly puzzle, which he resolved by taking recourse to epigraphic evidence -deriving from the discovery of stelai and inscriptions dedicated to the ‘goddess’4- and to iconographic evidence in the form of the well-known series of pinakes with figurations related to the worship of Persephone.5 It is likely, however, that the small size of the sacred area did not permit the construction of a temple worthy of the fame of the sanctuary: the cult had to be conducted mainly in the open with the possible contribution of an ‘edicola tesauraria’ that was brought to light, a situation reminiscent of the temene dedicated to Persephone in Sicily (Gela, Bitalemi). The materials discovered during the excavations mainly come from the votive deposit of the sanctuary, formed, as mentioned, by a large pit that was 10 metres long and 5 to 7 metres wide. The digs yielded a huge amount of material, thousands of fragments, mainly terracotta and pottery, and, to a lesser extent, objects in bronze, glass and bone, ranging from the mid-7th to the 4th century B.C.; all of the objects were dumped into the ‘favissa’.

warehouses of the Museum of Reggio Calabria. Our aim was to distinguish - where possible - between pottery designed for ritual purposes and vases that we can identify as genuine anathemata, indicative, among other things, of the social and economic status of the dedicants because of their great artistic value. The next step was to attempt a close iconographical reconstruction of the subjects depicted on the highly fragmented pottery which, so far, has led to the identification of the subjects painted on the vases already attributed by Beazley. The identification of the post-Beazley fragments is also at an advanced stage, a crucial juncture as we attempt to evaluate how far the choice of scenes depends on circulation factors and how far, conversely, it is shaped by the ‘religious ideology’ of the sanctuary, which may have acted itself as a ‘selector’. In Attic contexts, which coincide culturally and ideologically with the production site of the pottery, the fact that the imagery on the vases sought to reinforce ceremonial practices or tell the legendary tales of the divinities celebrated in the places of worship is confirmed by the discoveries made in the great sanctuaries of Attica, in Brauron, and of course on the Acropolis, while outside Attica it is more difficult to assess whether worshippers had a specific interest in the imagery of the vase. It is time to proceed with a detailed, step-by-step overview of the evidence, beginning with the shapes. Generally speaking, we may assert that Attic figured pottery found in the Persephoneion stems from the period between the second quarter of the 6th century and the third quarter of the 5th century B.C.; the majority of the fragments are dated between the first and second quarter of the 5th century B.C., decreasing significantly in the middle of the Classical period for historical and economic reasons. The first specimen of Attic pottery documented in the sanctuary dates from around 580 B.C., although the data we have collected is quite significant even if concerning earlier phases: in fact, there is a clear prevalence of cups: as many as 71 Siana cups have been uncovered – only two of which were known to Beazley6 - dated at 575 to 550 B.C., which are joined by a column-krater (?), a stamnos, and two amphorae (Figure 1). Of particular interest is a cup already known to Beazley, for whom, however, the subject was ‘unexplained’. In our opinion, it provides one of the first and still rare depictions of the killing of the Niobids by Apollo and Artemis7 (Figure 2), the ‘terrible

The purpose of our research concerns the study of the Attic figured pottery, approximately 1500 unpublished vases and fragments, found in the votive deposit of Mannella. The starting point of our research was the close examination of shapes documented in the sanctuary from the early 6th century through to the Classical period via the autoptic analysis of the over 1500 fragments conserved in the D.S. 27, 4. Liv. 29, 18; 31, 12, 1-2. Orsi 1909; Orsi 1909A; Orsi 1911; Orsi 1912: 21-22; Orsi 1912; Sabbione 2005: 199-207. 4  Gigante 1977: 621-623; Del Monaco 2013: 127-133. 5  Marroni in Marroni, Torelli 2016: 34. 1 

Locri, Mus. Arch. Naz., inv. 27150, 27161, 27162; Beazley 1971: 26; Reggio Calabria, Mus. Arch. Naz., inv. 12879, 12931, and one fragment sine inv.; Beazley 1971: 49. 7  Locri, Mus. Arch. Naz. inv. 27150, 27161, 27162 (ex coll. Candida inv. 204A-C); Beazley 1971: 26; Giudice 2015: 57-67; Giudice in print: n. 1.

2 

6 

3 

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Figure 1. Histogram of shapes from 575 to 425 B.C.

Figure 2. Skyphos, Reggio Calabria, Mus. Arch. Naz., inv. 27195 e 27196, © Archivio Ceramografico dell’Università di Catania.

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twins’, to use a memorable and effective expression coined by T.H. Carpenter. The range of shapes documented in the sanctuary is clarified and consolidated over the next 25 years, between 550 and 525 B.C., with 87 cups, and 7 skyphoi, while there is also a greater presence of large vases for holding wine, in particular different types of kraters, volute-kraters initially, but also column-kraters. These are joined by six hydriae and 31 amphorae, which include the wonderful example attributed to the manner of Exekias, that depicts Demeter on the chariot accompanied by Triptolemus,8 first mystes of the cult.. As regards the purely female sphere, to the same 25-year period belong two sub-Deianeira lekythoi by the Pharos Painter,9 which depict two women shrouded by a single cloak: iconography associated with the desired reunification of Demeter and Kore, as well as the cult of Demeter.

Figure 3. Oinochoe, Reggio Calabria, Mus. Arch. Reg., sine inv., © Archivio Ceramografico dell’Università di Catania.

The same 25-year period also sees the first appearance of the lekanis,10 of which we have 9 examples; once again, therefore, a shape closely connected with the female world and more specifically with the marriage rites, as ancient sources and, in particular, Photios (s.v.) inform us. The latter remarks that during the Eupalia, the day after the wedding celebration, ‘fathers sent gifts to the brides – jewelry in boxes and girl’s playthings in lekanides’11.

Less clear are the data relating to the third quarter of the 5th century, when imports of Attic pottery fell drastically. At the same time, the pottery documented in the sanctuary of Mannella must certainly take into account the local production which makes its appearance at that period and dominates the city’s pottery panorama, in both the necropolis and the sanctuary.12 Finally, a fair number of vases for pouring, such as oinochoai and olpai, are documented from between the final quarter of the 6th century and the Classical period. Equally significantly, these include the presence of a mug in the deposit, a type-8 oinochoe according to the Beazley classification, attributed to the Painter of Berlin 226813 (Figure 3), and a drinking cup for pouring and containing liquids whose use has also been documented in the libation ritual. It was probably with this function that it was present in a number of sacred contexts such as the Kabirion of Thebes and the votive deposit of Gravisca.14

The trend is attested in the second and third quarters of the 6th century (Figure 1) - in which the pottery from the votive deposit of the Mannella primarily includes cups, skyphoi and, in significant measure, different types of kraters - continues and actually strengthens over the next 25 years, between 525 and 500, a period which produces at least 86 cups, that can be associated with 15 kraters, as well as a number of amphorae and lekythoi, in addition to two olpai; this trend grows considerably during the first half of the 5th century B.C., and in particular in the first quarter of the 5th century B.C., which accounts for over 500 cups, skyphoi and cup-skyphoi, and around 20 kraters and stamnoi. In the second quarter of the 5th century B.C. this trend continues.

Among the shapes analysed, we should not be surprised by the huge quantity of drinking vases, i.e. cups and above all skyphoi15 but also, to a lesser degree, oinochoai, all of which were closely connected with libation rituals and could also be offered as anathemata in the sanctuary at the end of the

Reggio Calabria, Mus. Arch. Naz., inv. 4001; Beazley 1956: 147, 6,714, Giudice in print: n. 6. 9  Reggio Calabria, Mus. Arch. Naz. inv. 3184; Beazley 1956: 457,2; Giudice 1989: 16, note 7, 32, note 189; Giudice in print: n. 9; Reggio Calabria, Mus. Arch. Naz. inv. 27437; Beazley 1956: 457; Giudice 1989: 16, note 7, 32, note 189; Giudice in print: n. 10. For the Pharos Painter Haspels 1936: 25-26, 194; Beazley 1956: 456-457, 698; Beazley 1971: 199; Carpenter 1989: 115. 10  For the shape Breitfeld-von Eickstedt 1997: 55-61; Lüdorf 2000. 11  Richter, Milne 1935: 23. 8 

Madella 1991-1992; Elia 2010: 156-157; Elia 2014: 280-290. Reggio Calabria, Mus. Arch. Reg., sine inv.; Beazley 1971: 1629,4bis. For the painter of Berlin 2268 Beazley 1963: 153-158; Beazley 1971: 336; Carpenter 1989: 180-181. 14  Fortunelli 2006: 57-59. 15  Batino 2002: 247-249. 12  13 

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shape that is the krater - together with a comparison with various sanctuaries of Greece and Magna Graecia - would lead us to attribute a central role to these forms in ceremonies and to assume that cups were not only employed in libation rituals, but could also be used – at least up until around the middle of 5th century B.C. - at the symposium, whose existence is documented, for example, for the sanctuary of Demeter and Kore in Corinth,18 for the Heraion in Samos,19 for the sanctuary of the Cabeiri in Thebes,20 and for the sanctuary of Gravisca.21 A hypothesis which, unfortunately, is not supported by the excavation data as no spaces reserved for symposia were uncovered, but whose raison d’être lies in the association of the potteries found in the favissa. Another argument that supports the hypothesis of the use of cups and kraters in the symposium is represented by another shape, multiple examples of which have been found in the Persephoneion Figure 4. Kylix, Locri, Mus. Arch. Naz., inv. 27231, © Archivio Ceramografico of Locri: the oinochoe with female dell’Università di Catania. head.22 As demonstrated by Lissarrague,23 vases moulded into performance as final confirmation of the completed action the shape of a human head are normally associated with the For us the most interesting aspect, as regards the distribution symposium. At the same time, the repeated offer of oinochoai of shapes in the sanctuary of Mannella from a diachronic with female heads in sanctuaries connected with chthonian perspective, is the almost constant association between cups female cults entails that we cannot completely deny that they and kraters within the various types. At least in the case of had an exclusive ex-voto function, and we cannot exclude a form the krater, it is important to remember that the data should of identification between the offering young women and the perhaps be supplemented with information concerning all vases with female heads24 or even the existence of a privileged the bronze examples that are also widely documented in connection between the ex-voto and the receiving divinity, as the sanctuary.16 The importance of the krater in ceremonies has already been hypothesised for the Etruscan area.25 connected with wine consumption and, as a consequence, its exclusively male environment, seems, at first glance, quite In terms of 6th and 5th century vases, there are also others strange if associated with a sanctuary such as that of Locri, which, due to their good quality and refinement, as well as dedicated to Persephone, frequented by girls before they got for the technical expertise with which they were made, could married and where, rather than large quantities of kraters, it have exclusively constituted votive anathemata. For us these would be more logical to expect to see large lebetes gamikoi, are also indicative of the high social and economic status of as well as the already mentioned lekanides. Yet, studied more the dedicants: this group certainly includes a splendid cup closely, this aporia can only be explained by attributing to by the Pistoxenos Painter26 (Figure 4) whose inside tondo these vases a ritual use rather than a votive function. was created using the rare white ground technique with the Therefore, the association of a large quantity of cups, of skyphoi, rhyta and, to a lesser extent, kantharoi17 - of which we register the presence of two examples - with the ‘speaking’

Bookidis 1990: 86-93. Pipili 2003: 133-138. 20  Wolters, Bruns 1940: 43, n. 56, 58, n. 183. 21  Fortunelli 2006: 57-59. 22  Reggio Calabria, Mus. Arch. Naz., inv. 3633; Beazley 1963: 1542,97. 23  Lissarrague 1989: 31 ss.; Lissarrague 1990: 196 ss. 24  Fortunelli 2006: 61. 25  Maggiani 1997: 49 ss. 26  Locri, Mus. Arch. Naz., inv. 27231; Beazley 1963: 860,3; Beazley 1971: 425; Carpenter 1989: 298. For the Pistoxenos Painter Beazley 1963: 859-863; Beazley 1971: 425-426; Carpenter 1989: 298-299. 18  19 

Meirano 2002: 117-126; Meirano 2004: 305-317; Meirano 2005: 4353; Meirano 2014: 32-38. 17  Reggio Calabria, Mus. Arch. Naz., inv. 12956; Beazley 1963: 1635,237bis; Reggio Calabria, Mus. Arch. Naz., sine inv., Beazley 1963: 889,168. For the shape Caskey, Beazley 1931: 14-18; Caskey, Beazley 1954: 10-11; Richter, Milne 1935: 25-26; Sparkes, Talcott 1970: 113-124; Moore 1997: 59-60; Torelli 2004: 211-227; Torelli 2012: 79. 16 

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depiction of maenads and satyr and with a scene of ephebes and young women courting on the exterior; a calyx-krater,27 again using the white ground technique, by the Villa Giulia Painter,28 of which survive a fragment relating to side A with the goddess Athena and another relating to side B with the rare legend of Astyoche and Actor; finally, a series of rhyta by the Sotades Painter,29 unfortunately very fragmented, depicting a negroid figure killing a crocodile, as well as a Sphinx, a ram and a Pygmy and a crane, whose preciousness made them very appropriate for the sanctuary offer. The original figurative decorations on these vases are, in themselves, indicative of a dedicatory function and they may best be classified as anathemata, precious gifts par excellence.

Notwithstanding all the uncertainty and the necessary caution when presenting documentation on a context still being studied, the preliminary examination of the Attic pottery used in the votive offerings at Mannella seems to suggest a close connection between the offer - and therefore the deliberate choice of shape - and the divinity receiving the vow. Giada Giudice Meanwhile, the picture that emerges from the analysis of the subjects is still not completely clear - we ought not to forget that the reconstruction of the various scenes is still ongoing and only the data relating to the ceramics in Beazley’s lists are complete. So far, the material examined has been dominated by Dionysiac and war-related subjects, weapons and the departure of the hoplites (Figure 5), which fit well with an elitist shape like the krater and are reflective of a highly aristocratic society. There are also plenty of ritual scenes with human and divine libations (Figure 6), which certainly fit with the context of the sanctuary.

Sometimes it is the shape itself that suggests the ex-voto function, as in the case of the numerous aforementioned lekanides with black figures attributed to Lydos and his school, to the London Painter B 76,30 and to the Edinburgh Painter,31 without forgetting the large one (diam. 46.2 cm) attributed by Beazley to the Berlin Painter32 depicting an erotic chase involving Poseidon and Amymone (?). Whereas shapes like the lekanides, exclusively female, certainly had a practical use in the domestic sphere, this function is naturally confined to the oikos, and rather than being connected with cultural activities the presence of these vases in the sanctuary has a votive connotation.

From the data available to us, it would therefore appear that there was a degree of selection in both the images and shapes, all of which were largely influenced by the complex system of distribution routes of the pottery in the various markets of Magna Graecia and, particularly, in the Etruscan markets.

There is still some uncertainty over the function of the alabastra and all of the black- and red-figure lekythoi, strictly feminine in nature, designed to hold perfumed essences, on which the female images are associated with flowers, mirrors, kalathoi etc., iconic symbols of significant paradigmatic value that could certainly not be missing from a sanctuary frequented by parthenoi on the verge of marrying: once more, vases offered as anathemata or vases relating to the instruments of the cult?

Taking a more detailed view, a certain amount of attention consistent with the original Laconian culture of the Locrians - is focused on the figures of Heracles, protomystes hero of the mystery cult, depicted as a symposiast,35 or involved in the descent into the underworld on an amphora in the manner of Exekias36 (Figure 7), on Ajax Oileus37 and on Achilles38 (Figure 8), subject of a cult in Locris,39 on the Dioscuri40 and their guest Phineus,41 on Selene42 (Figure 9), who according to legend gave water to the horses of Castor and Pollux, and on Helen, their sister, who in the Doric world is not the ‘femme fatale’ responsible for the Trojan War of Ionian-Epic poetry but a divine figure whose cult sites were located in various parts of Greece.

At least for the Archaic period, these are joined by the numerous Corinthian aryballoi, the alabastra in form of statuettes, the glass unguentaria, all found in the sanctuary. In fact, it is well documented that fragrances formed part of several rituals, particularly those connected with marriage;33 the famous pinakes34 discovered in the sanctuary contain numerous examples of the ‘preparation of offers for the goddess’ which depict pieces of furniture holding symbolic objects such as the cista and kalathos and vases such as alabastra and lekythoi with explicit reference to the perfumes contained and therefore the sphere of Aphrodite and the pursuit of charis.

Skyphos, fr., Reggio Calabria, Mus. Arch. Naz. sine inv.; Beazley 1971: 258 (Hair of a male to left)’; Giudice 1989: 47, note 284; Giudice in print: n. 27. 36  Amphora A or B, frr., Reggio Calabria, Mus. Arch. Naz., inv. 4001; Beazley 1956: 147, 6, 147, 714; Beazley 1971: 61; Carpenter 1989: 51; Giudice 1989: 32, note 187; Demargne 1984: 1002, n. 496; De Angelis 1988: 876, n. 387; Boardman 1988: 806, n. 1405; Lindner 1988: 375, n. 43; Simon 1990: 613, n. 7; Boardman 1990: 90, n. 2592, pl. 96; Shapiro 1994: 415, n. 1; Giudice 2005, 706, pl. 2C; Giudice in print: n. 6. 37  Volute-krater, frr., Reggio Calabria, Mus. Arch. Naz., inv. 12959; Beazley 1963: 599,5; Giudice in print: n. 107. On Aiax in Locri cfr. Paus. 3, 19, 12, Conone, FGrHist 26 F I,18 and Ermia di Alessandria (Schol. A1 Pl. Phaedr., 243a). See Van Compernolle 1969: 755 ss.; Sordi 1972: 49 ss. 38  Skyphos, Reggio Calabria, Mus. Arch. Naz., inv. 27195 and 27196, Beazley 1963: 266,88; Giudice 2016: 11-28. 39  Escher 1894: 223; Giannelli 1963: 148-150; Ghinatti 1974: 546-547; Giangiulio 1983: 473-521, specially 508-509. 40  For the cult in Locri, Torelli 1987: 607; Guzzo 1994: 27 ss.; Vaglio 2000: 227-235; I pinakes di Locri Epizefiri 1996- 2007, III: 28-31; Torelli 2011: 80. 41  See, e.g., the bell-krater, Reggio Calabria, Mus. Arch. Naz., inv. 12905, 27386; Beazley 1963: 1076,2; Giudice 1989: 83, note 450; Add2, 326; Giudice, Rizzo 2002: 246, note 1188, pl. 43, 1-2; Giudice in print: n. 180. 42  Reggio Calabria, Mus. Arch. Naz., inv. 27204, Beazley 1963: 862,29: ‘A, Selene’; Giudice 1989: 65 e 68, note 379; Giudice in print: n. 155. 35 

For the shape Tsingarida 2003: 99 ss. Reggio Calabria, Mus. Arch. Naz., inv. 12939A-B; Beazley 1963: 619,11bis. 29  Locri, Mus. Arch. Naz., inv. 12840A-C, 28334, Beazley 1963: 767,25bis. Reggio Calabria, Mus. Arch. Reg. 12841, Beazley 1963: 765,17; inv. 12842, Beazley 1963: 765,18; inv. 12972, 12980, 12948, Beazley 1963: 766,11bis; inv. 27223, Beazley 1963: 767,25bis; inv. 14012A-D-E, Beazley 1963: 773,1; inv. 14012B, Beazley 1963: 773,2. 30  Frr. post Beazley, sine inv. 31  Reggio Calabria, Mus. Arch. Naz., inv. 88806; Haspels 1936: 218, 57, 320; Beazley 1971: 217. 32  Locri, Mus. Arch. Naz., inv. 27232; Beazley 1963: 212, 215, 1634; Carpenter 1989: 196. For the Berlin Painter Beazley 1963: 196-219, 1633-1635, 1700-1701; Beazley 1971: 165, 177, 341-345, 357, 373, 401, 510, 519-520; Carpenter 1989: 106, 190. 33  See Bodiou, Mehl 2008: 165 ss. 34  I Pinakes di Locri 1996-2007; Marroni, Torelli 2016. 27  28 

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Figure 5. Hydria, Reggio Calabria, Mus. Arch. Naz. inv. 27201 (ex coll. Candida) e 27243, © Archivio Ceramografico dell’Università di Catania.

Figure 6. Volute Krater, Reggio Calabria, Mus. Arch. Naz. inv. 4051, © Archivio Ceramografico dell’Università di Catania.

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Figure 7. Amphora (A or B), Reggio Calabria, Mus. Arch. Naz., inv. 4001, © Archivio Ceramografico dell’Università di Catania.

Figure 8. Skyphos, Reggio Calabria, Mus. Arch. Naz. inv. 27195 and 27196, © Archivio Ceramografico dell’Università di Catania.

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Figure 9. Stemless Cup, Reggio Calabria, Mus. Arch. Naz., inv. 27204 (ex coll. Candida, inv. 366), © Archivio Ceramografico dell’Università di Catania. The Dioscuri - who on the famous pinakes are in front of Persephone on the throne - can be seen on two fragments of pyxis43 which depict the birth of Helen from the egg, generated by the meeting of Zeus with Nemesis, and laid on the altar by Leda, while on a fragment from the Classical period, attributed to the Coghill Painter,44 the two divine twins are protagonists of the abduction of the Leucippides.

case from maiden to woman, a transition understood to be a change from wild virgin to tamed matron’47, and that on the fragmented column-krater attributed by Beazley to the Group of Acropolis 787.48 The union of Peleus and Thetis, moreover, did not rest on the same ideology at the base of other unions with divinities, all of which had negative and dangerous connotations. The pursuit of Thetis by Peleus and their consequent union was radically different because in this unique case the protagonist of the adbuction of a goddess was a mortal; and, more importantly, because it took place with the consent and encouragement of the gods; in fact, the ‘fruit’ of this precious union was the hero Achilles, creating the paradigm of the legend of mortal couples.49

Also significant is the high percentage of scenes of erotic chases, someone representative of marriage: indeed, the oldest figurative representation of the abduction of Oreithyia by a Boreas diphyēs, as seen on the chest of Cypselus (Paus. 5, 19,1), of which a small fragment of a Siana cup exists,45 conserved in the National Museum of Locris, comes from the sanctuary of Mannella; a depiction connected with the sphere protected by Persephone, goddess of the cult and subject of ἁρπαγὴ -for marriage purposes by Hades. This same theme is seen in the vase images of the kidnapping of Thetis by Peleus: for example, there is the depiction painted on the splendid lekanis by the Niobid Painter stored in Naples,46 which comes from Locris, probably from the Persephoneion, on which the abduction scene takes place in the presence of the Nereids, figures which, as underlined by Barringer, ‘serve as escorts of an individual undergoing a critical life transition, in this

As to be expected in a Persephoneion, many of the images painted on the lekythoi found in the ‘favissa’, often decorated by a single figure, are women50 (Figure 10). Through the insertion of indispensable decorative and cosmetic accessories such as mirrors and flowers, these scenes exalt the position of the woman ready for marriage – let us not forget that there Barringer 1995: 69. Reggio Calabria, Mus. Arch. Naz. inv. 12808; Beazley 1963: 1638,3; Giudice 1989: 48, note 294; Giudice in print: n. 45. 49  Sourvinou-Inwood 1987: 134-135, 138-139. 50  E.g. the lekythos Locri, Mus. Arch. Naz., inv. 27229, ex Candida collection; Beazley 1963: 711, 67; Giudice 1989: 65 e 67, note 373; Giudice in print: n. 138; or the lekythos, Locri, Mus. Arch. Naz., inv. 27225; Beazley 1963: 711,67; Giudice in print: n. 138. 47  48 

Reggio Calabria, Mus. Arch. Naz., sine inv; Caskey, Beazley 1963: 72; Giudice 2005: 707 and 705, fig. c. 44  See Giudice in print. 45  Locri, Mus. Arch. Naz., sine inv.; Giudice Rizzo 2002: 69-72, pl. I,1. 46  Napoli, Mus. Arch. Naz., inv. 2638; Beazley 1963: 607,89; Prange 1989, pl. 1. 43 

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Figure 11. Rhyton, Locri, Mus. Arch. Naz. 12840 A, © Archivio Ceramografico dell’Università di Catania. By way of antithesis, the depictions of the Amazons (Figure 11) also contribute to the definition of the status and the role carried out by women in their transition from parthenoi to gynaikes, representing, as is clearly highlighted by the sources, ‘a phase of life for both young men and women: the androgynous state of life between childhood and adulthood. [ ] The Amazon functioned to explain the imperative that daughters must be given away and received into the house, whatever the suffering or dangers such exchanges entailed. The Amazon is a figment of Greek and particularly Athenian, mythmaking concerning marriage.52’

Figure 10. White Ground Lekythos, Locri, Mus. Arch. Naz. inv. 27229, © Archivio Ceramografico dell’Università di Catania.

Even the scenes of common life, which take us into a more strictly male sphere, do not seem alien either to an ideology that lauds marriage or a ‘female’ sanctuary. The pottery of the sanctuary includes numerous scenes of young men leaving home, of being armed, of the departure of the hoplite and scenes relative to Theseus,53 the mythical paradigm of the ephebes: if this is justified in relation to the large quantity of volutekraters, column-kraters, calyx-kraters and cups documented in the favissa, this alone is not enough to explain their presence in the sanctuary; rather, it is possible that the series of ‘male’ depictions contributes to documenting the biotic path of the young man, ‘the male party in the nuptial agreement’, with his specific ephebe and/or adult-at-arms connotations, as well as demonstrating the male devotion for the goddess, ‘that oversaw

are numerous mirrors and boxes among the anathemata of the sanctuary, but also balls and toys symbolising the change in status from young girl to adult – , while her role as owner and protector of the oikos is underlined by the presence in the scenic field of the kalathos, the klismos and the spindle, all elements that underline her industriousness and point to her new role as gyne. In fact, the kalathos symbolises the woman’s domestic life, exalting her philergia, as documented by Aristophanes (Ar., Th. 821-829); significantly, terracotta kalathoi were discovered in the sanctuary of Hera in Perachora:51 the female visitors to the sanctuary implored the goddess of marriage to bless their family life and the offerer’s prayer was accompanied and supported by the container dedicated to the goddess. In addition, the kalathos often appears to be associated with the wife of Hades, Persephone, on the fictile pinakes of Locris, where the goddess holds it together with the chest. 51 

Tyrrell 1984: 128. E.g. the volute-krater, fr., Reggio Calabria, Mus. Arch. Naz., inv. 12862; Beazley 1963: 590,3sexies; Giudice 1989: 63-64, note 361; Prange 1989: 158, A8; Giudice in print: n. 93; or the skyphos, Reggio Calabria, Mus. Arch. Naz., sine inv.; Beazley 1971: 258; Giudice 1989: 47, note 284; Giudice in print: n. 26. 52  53 

Scheibler 1995: 56–57; Lissarrague 1995: 91-101, specially, 95–96.

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Bibliography Barringer, J.M. 1995. Divine Escorts. Nereids in Archaic and Classical Greek Art. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Batino, S. 2002. Lo skyphos attico dall’iconografia alla funzione. Napoli: Loffredo. Beazley, J.D. 1956. Attic Black-figure Vase-painters. Oxford: Hacker Art Books. Beazley, J.D. 1963. Attic Red-figure Vase-painters, Oxford2: Clarendon Press. Beazley, J.D. 1971. Paralipomena. Additions to Attic Black-figure Vase-painters and Attic Red-figure Painters, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Boardman, J. 1988. Herakles. In LIMC IV: 728-838. Boardman, J. 1990. Herakles. In LIMC V: 1-262. Bodiou, L., V. Mehl 2008. Parfums de passage: naissance, mariage, et funérailles en pays grec. In A. VerbanckPiérard, N. Massar, D. Frère (ed.) Parfums de l’antiquité. La rose et l’encens en Méditerranée: 165-173. MorlanwelzMariemont: Musée royal de Mariemont. Breitfeld-von Eickstedt, E.D. 1997. Die Lekanis vom 6. – 4. Jh. v. Chr. Die Lekanis vom 6. – 4. Jh. v. Chr. Beobachtungen zur Form und Entwicklung einer Vasengattung zur Form und Entwicklung einer Vasengattung. In J.H. Oakley, W.D. E. Coulson, O. Palagia (ed.) Athenian Painters and Potters: 55-61. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Cardosa, M. 2014. L’offerta di armi nei santuari di KorePersefone di area locrese. In M.T. Iannelli, C. Sabbione (ed.) Le spose e gli eroi. Offerte in bronzo e in ferro dai santuari e dalle necropoli della Calabria greca: 23-31. Vibo Valentia: Sistema Bibliotecario Vibonese. Carpenter, T.H. 1989. Beazley Addenda, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Caskey, L.D., J.D. Beazley 1931. Attic Vase Painting in the Museum of Fine Arts. London: Oxford University Press. Caskey, L.D., J.D. Beazley 1954. Attic Vase Painting in the Museum of Fine Arts (II). London: Oxford University Press. Caskey, L.D., J.D. Beazley 1963. Attic Vase Painting in the Museum of Fine Arts (III). London: Oxford University Press. De Angeli, F. 1988. Demeter. In LIMC IV: 844-908. Del Monaco, L. 2013. Iscrizioni greche d’Italia. Roma: Quasar. Demargne, P. 1984. Athena. In LIMC II: 995-1044. Elia, D. 2010. Locri Epizefiri VI. Nelle case di Ade. La necropoli in contrada Lucifero, Nuovi documenti. Alessandria: Edizioni dell’Orso. Elia, D. 2014. Local Production of Red-figure Pottery at Locri Epizephyrii. In S. Schierup, V. Sabetai (ed.) The Regional Production of Red-figure Pottery: Greece, Magna Graecia and Etruria: 280-290. Aarhus: Aarhus University Press. Escher, J. 1894. Achilleus. In RE I: 221-245. Fortunelli, S. 2006. Anathemata ceramici attici dal nuovo deposito di Gravisca. In F. Giudice, R. Panvini (ed.) Il Greco, il barbaro e la ceramica attica. Immaginario del diverso, processi di scambio e autorappresentazione degli indigeni: 5564. Roma: L’Erma di Bretscheneider. Ghinatti, F. 1974. Riti e feste della Magna Grecia. In CS 11: 546547. Giangiulio, M. 1983. Locri, Sparta, Crotone e le tradizioni leggendarie intorno alla battaglia della Sagra. In MEFRA 95: 473-521. Giannelli, G. 1963. Culti e miti della Magna Grecia. Firenze: FPEFranco Pancallo Editore.

Figure 12. Volute Krater, Reggio Calabria, Mus. Arch. Naz. inv. 12864, © Archivio Ceramografico dell’Università di Catania. the changes in status of young people of both sexes’54. And in this context, it does not seem out of place to mention the Locrian pinakes with the nostos scene of the warrior, or recall the arms, the shields, the Schildbänder-style bands,55 the bronze helmets offered in the sanctuary and rediscovered in the favissa.56 Finally, we are introduced to the sphere of the divine by Athena (Figure 12), Dionysus, Artemis, Apollo, Aphrodite and Ares who on numerous pinakes perform libations or pay homage to Hades and Persephone or just to Persephone; with the exception of Ares, depicted quite infrequently on Attic pottery, the same divinities are depicted on the vases of the Persephoneion. In accordance with his presence on 91 pinakes, Dionysus and his court play a frontline role and are closely connected with Persephone, his wife in the Underworld, with whom he shares chthonic features. And finally, even if we do not possess numerous references to Demeter and Persephone, goddess protector of the sanctuary, we nevertheless must not forget that the subject was depicted quite infrequently in Attic production until at least the 4th century B.C., while the protagonists of the imported pottery include Triptolemus and Hades as in the aforementioned amphora attributed by Beazley to the manner of the painter Exekias and the fragment of pelike post-Beazley, attributable to the Peleus Painter,57 which depicts the god of the Underworld with the sceptre and the cornucopia on the right and, next to him, a torch held by a figure that has been lost. Time restrictions prevent us from going any further so we can only conclude that the study of the pottery catalogue of the Persephoneion – in fieri I reiterate - necessitates a global approach that takes account of different factors, such as the frequency, technical details and quality of certain shapes, the iconographic repertoire, as well as the relationship between this and the other categories of materials such as, in particular, the pinakes, as important evidence of the religious function of the sanctuary. Elvia Giudice Torelli 1977; Marroni, Torelli 2016: 91. Cardosa 2014: 23 ss. 56  Sabbione 2014: 40, 42, n. 1. 57  Giudice 2007: 62, cat. 68. 54  55 

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Was Knossos a Home for Phoenician Traders? Judith Muñoz Sogas1 Introduction1

The site has produced Phoenician and Cypriot vessels, bronze vessels, gold jewellery, jugs with lotus flower decoration, ivory objects and small objects of faience, glass and Egyptian blue such as scarabs and figurines.5 Some findings such as a bowl with a Phoenician inscription and other Near Eastern objects suggest exchange of goods and trade by the Phoenician merchants on their way to the west.6 Funerary monuments that resemble Phoenician cippi, one of them with an anthropomorphic form, are seen as the proof of Phoenician residence on the site.7 The finds of gold jewellery in deposits, like in the Tekke Tomb, are used

Odysseus claims a Phoenician ship brought him to Ithaca twice. In one of those instances, he specifies they sailed along the north coast of Crete (Figure 1) en route from Phoenicia to Libya.2 Knossos, a site in the north of the island, also mentioned in the Odyssey,3 was a much-frequented port by Phoenicians sailing towards the West.4 Even though some Phoenicians presumably only used Knossos as a stopping point, some archaeological finds indicate a more permanent character of their stay during the 9th-8th centuries BC.

Figure 1. Map of the Eastern Mediterranean showing relevant sites. The University of Sheffield and Universitat Pompeu Fabra Homer, Odyssey 14.285-300; Sherratt 1996 3  Homer, Od. 19.164-200. 4  Kourou, N. 2012. 1 

Stampolidis, N.C. and Kotsonas, A. 2006. Coldstream, J.N. 1982. 7  Kourou, N. and Grammatikaki, E. 1998.

2 

5  6 

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Figure 2. Knossos, general site plan (Antoniadis 2017. Fig 5: Map 3). to prove the presence and even residence of Near Eastern goldsmiths in Knossos.8

(Figure 2).9 The area of Atsalenio, in the north, produced some Early Iron Age chamber tombs, such as the one where a cippus was found. Most of the Early Iron Age Tombs (around 150) are found in the area of Tekke (also known as Ambelokipi), where the bowl with the inscription appeared. In the north

Most of these objects of Near Eastern origin or resemblance were found in tombs. These are grouped in different areas 8 

Boardman, J. 1967.

9 

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there is the Khaniale Tekke district, where the Tekke jewellery was discovered. This find suggested the permanence of Near Eastern craftsmen although other scholars linked it to elite control10 .11 To the East there is the area of the Venizeleion Hospital, also known as Sanatorium, where an anthropomorphic Phoenician cippus was found.12 To the South there is the Fortetsa area. Other areas are the Kephala Ridge, the Ayios Ioannis zone, the Upper and Lower areas of the Gypsades Hill and the Mavro Spilio district.13 Cippi Tomb 10 at Venizeleion Hospital (Sanatorium) In the site of the Sanatorium, over the edge of Roman Tomb 10, a stele was found (Figure 3). It was upside down, corresponding to a Late Roman wall structure. As it had no connection with the rest of the finds, it is clear that its position was accidental. The stone was cut out of soft local limestone and measures 0.44m x 0.24m x 0.155m. It has a pillar-like shape and the upper part, which is carved in a heart-like shape, is intended to represent a human head.14 There is no doubt that this is a Phoenician cippus, as anthropomorphoic stelae similar to this one are common in Phoenician and Punic areas like Sardinia, Sicily and North Africa. For instance, the two-headed cippus from Selinus is very similar in shape, even though it dates to the 5th or 4th centuries BC and the cippus from Sanatorium must be earlier, possibly from the 7th century BC. It also resembles the Kimolos cippus, although this one emphasises the human body whilst the one found in Sanatorium emphasises its head only. A cippus to which it bears some resemblances is the cippus from the Tyrian tophet (TT91 S6). It dates from the 7th century and has a human head relief at the upper part (Sader 1991). The shape of the head is very similar.15

Figure 3. Cippus from Venizeleion Hospital. Tomb III at Atsalenio Two blocking stones were found at the entrance of the chamber Tomb III at Atsalenio. One of them appeared to be a reused stele, a complete monument that was not part of the architecture (Figure 4). It was found near an Early Orientalising oenochoe that dated to 700BC, so the second use of the stone must be the 8th century. Kourou and Karetsou assumed that it was previously used as a cippus, judging by its shape.17

The presence of a Phoenician cippus in Knossos is very meaningful. This kind of stelae were considered to be the resort for a dead person’s soul16 and, therefore, they are the proof of an oriental mortuary practice. Even though we cannot be sure that people in Crete conceived cippi in the same way as in other places of the Punic world, the context where it was found suggests it had a similar meaning. This suggests that oriental people or, more precisely, Phoenicians, resided in Knossos.

The stone, made of local limestone and measuring 0.80m x 0.32m x 0.22m, had a rectangular shape with a central circular cavity and a projection on top.18 It recalls the shape of the stele from Nora in Sardinia, although the reliefs are absent and it has a Phoenician inscription that marks it to the end of the 9th century BC,19 possibly the same period as the cippus at Atsalenio. The decoration of the cippus at Atsalenio is very similar to that of the cippus TT91 S12 from the Tyre Tophet, which, instead of a circular hole, has an elongated leaf-shaped relief. Regardless the possible meanings of these forms as the solar disc and as

Hoffman, G. L. 2000. Kotsonas, A. 2006. 12  Kourou and Grammatikaki 1998, 239. 13  Antoniadis 2017, 29-35. 14  Kourou and Grammatikaki 1998, 239-241. 15  Kourou and Grammatikaki, 1998, 246. 16  Kourou and Grammatikaki, 1998, 243. 10  11 

Kourou, N. and Karetsou, A. 1998. Kourou and Karetsou, 1998, 244. 19  Aubet, M.E. 2009. 17  18 

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Figure 4. Cippus from Atsalenio (Kourou and Karetsou 1998. Fig. 3-6).

Figure 5. Figurines of Ptah-Seker and Nefertum.

a tree,20 the popularity of cippi throughout the Mediterranean and, specifically, at Tyre, Phoenician homeland, and Knossos as well as further west, suggests Phoenician expansion to the west 21 not only in terms of economics and trade, but also in terms of social and cultural practices, as well a residence.

were found at Tomb P2 at Fortetsa (Figure 5).23 Both deities were associated to children, so they might have been used as protection amulets.24 As Coldstream argued during the discussion of Shaw’s article in 1998, one of the Nefertum figures was a Levantine imitation and not an original, unlike the figure of a Nefertum in Kommos (aport in the south of the island), which looks original from Egypt (Shaw 1998, discussion). Identifying original and imitation faience objects is a difficult task, as different techniques for making faience figurines were used.25 They could have been imported by Phoenician merchants, who, according to Boardman, had a better trading infrastructure and contacts with Egypt,26 or even by North Syrians or Cypriots.

The fact that Knossos is one of the places in the Mediterranean where these cippi appear suggests it was a major trading centre and an important port of call on the Phoenician route to the west.22 Knossos was not only a port, but also a second hometown for those traders who wished to practice their economic activities from Crete. Nonetheless, the economic activities of these Phoenicians who decided to stay in Knossos have not been defined. Whether those people were craftsmen, merchant or other professionals, is something I wish to discuss below, by analysing some more finds.

However, it is difficult to know if the oriental beliefs these objects suggest were understood in the same way as in Egyptian contexts. There might have been, thus, a change in the way the objects were used. What is crucial, nonetheless, is the access of oriental religious and funerary practices at

Faience Figurines at Fortetsa An 8th century figure of Ptah-Seker sitting on a throne and two Nefertum figurines in a pithos burial of a female child

Hoffman, 2000, 41. Shaw, Maria C. 2000. 25  Hoffman, 2000, 136. 26  Boardman, 2006, 513. 23 

Sader, H. 1991. 21  Kourou and Karetsou, 1998, 246. 22  Kourou, 2012, 41. 20 

24 

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Crete. Knossos, as well as Kommos, acted as a port of entry for these new beliefs and they spread them throughout other places of the island, such as Eleutherna and Mount Ida,27,28 where oriental objects have also been found. Phoenician Bowl from Tekke Tomb J Tekke Tomb J, a chamber tomb which was started to be used in the tenth century BC, had two burials, probably separated by a generation, so that one of them dated to the early 9th century BC. Between two amphorae, a bronze hemispherical bowl with an inscription of twelve archaic Phoenician letters appeared (Figure 6).29, 30 With reference to the meaning of the inscription, Sznycer’s provisional reading was ‘the bowl of X, son of Y’31 and Cross contributed by proposing its reading as ‘Cup of Sama [], son of L []’.32 Hence, the inscription of the bowl suggests private ownership. According to many scholars, it was, thus, not an object of commerce but the possession of an early Phoenician who resided in Knossos33 .34 Sznycer and Coldstream agreed that the bowl dated to 900 BC by focusing on the archaeological context,35 whereas Cross focused his dating on palaeographical analysis and compared it to other inscriptions from the 11th century BC, such as the stele of Nora, stating that the Phoenicians start commercialising with the west in the 12th century BC.36 I suggest that the bowl was manufactured and inscribed during the 11th century, agreeing with Cross, and it passed hand to hand until it was buried in the 10th or early 9th century, as Sznycer and Coldstream indicated. The bowl could have been an heirloom when it was placed in the tomb.37 Hence, the bowl was in use for some generations before being buried. The last owner of the bowl, presumably buried in Tekke Tomb J, could have been a descendant of an early Phoenician, once an owner of the bowl.

Figure 6. Phoenician bowl fromTekke Tomb J. the bowl could have been traded by Phoenicians on their way to the west.38 These assumptions are equally plausible. Oriental Jewellery from Khaniale Tekke Tholos Tomb 2

Having been brought before the 10th or 9th centuries BC, it would have presumably been one of the first Phoenician items that arrived in Crete. Assuming this, Phoenicians lived and died on this site for more than a generation and therefore Knossos would have been used, as proved with the cippi, as a place of residence for Phoenician families.

At the Khaniale Tekke district, which lies north-west of the Minoan palace of Knossos, the ruins of a round tomb with a single burial proved to be a tholos tomb known as Tholos Tomb 2. The tomb had Minoan symbols, like a pair of horns of consecration.39 Below the chamber floor two small unpainted ceramic vases were found on each side of the door. Inside of these, a group of gold objects from the second half of the 9th century BC, known as the Tekke Jewellery (Figure 7), were found40 .41

Nonetheless, we cannot just assume that the inscription refers to the family of first owner of the bowl, since it could have also been the donor. If this assumption was true, a Phoenician merchant, for instance, presumably called Sama, could have donated the bowl to a non-Phoenician individual in Knossos, who then donated it to his descendant and got buried with it. Hence, the donor of the bowl would have not necessarily been an inhabitant of Knossos. Likewise, as Coldstream suggests,

Among the objects in the vessels, there was finished jewellery as well as raw materials in the form of gold bars. These jewels are made of gold, a material imported from the Baltic, but also amber and rock crystal, materials from Crete. However, some of them were made by using the techniques of filigree and granulation, very popular in the Near East and very common in Phoenician gold objects.42 Therefore, these objects were made of some Cretan materials by using imported techniques.43

Shaw. 1998. Stampolidis and Kotsonas, 2006, 344. 29  Coldstream, J.N. and Catling H.W. 1977. 30  Coldstream, 1982, 271. 31  Sznycer, M. 1979. 32  Cross, F.M. 1983. 33  Coldstream, 1982, 271. 34  Negbi, O. 1992. 35  Sznycer, 1979, 89-93; and Coldstream, 1982, 270- 271. 36  Cross, 1983, 17. 37  Hoffman, 2000, 122. 27  28 

Coldstream, 1982, 27. Kotsonas, 2006, 152. Hutchinson, R.W. and Boardman J. 1954. 41  Hoffman, 2000, 191; and Kotsonas, 2006, 150. 42  Aubet, 2009, 112. 43  Boardman, 1967; and Hoffman, 2000, 213. 38  39  40 

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One of the most intriguing objects, made with the mentioned techniques, is a gold necklace with inlays of crystal and amber in a crescent shape underneath a chain that ends with snake heads,44 presumably described in the Odyssey as ‘a necklace of gold, and with amber beads’.45 It has been compared to the lunate-shaped gold pendant found at the Toumba complex at Lefkandi, dated to the middle 10th or early 9th century BC.46 Although the crescent shape was common in Sub Minoan Crete, these motifs reappeared in the 10th century BC, possibly as a result of Near Eastern Influence, as crescents and crescents with disks, understood as celestial images of the sun and the moon, were very common in the Near Eastern and particularly Phoenician imaginary, even though they were normally with their open side down.47

unworked materials could have been weighted units of metal used as currency. Furthermore, Hoffman suggests the absence of craft tools indicates that the occupant of the tomb was not a craftsman. It is true that the evidence of tools is crucial to determine whether he was a craftsman, but we cannot claim he was not a craftsmen based on negative evidence, as he could have been a goldsmith whose tools were kept elsewhere when he was buried. Hoffman’s arguments were supported by Kotsonas’ observations on the abundance of precious materials in the tomb (gold, silver, rock crystal and amber) in comparison to the limited distribution of these materials. He concluded that the occupants of the tomb were Cretan patrons, an elite who had access to the Tekke workshop and regulated the distribution of the materials mentioned.55 These craftsmen were probably Near Eastern metalworkers who introduced the techniques of filigree and granulation that had been forgotten in Bronze Age Crete56 and used Cretan materials provided by their patrons and a mixed iconography. Even though the jewellery was presumably made by Phoenician metalworkers, judging by the techniques and some motifs used, who possibly lived and died in Knossos, this particular tomb could have been the burial place of a Cretan.

Another jewel with a crescent made using the filigree and granulation techniques found in the Tekke Jewellery Deposit was a gold pendant or brooch with amber inlays. The crescent has a guilloche pattern and it almost closes into a circle. There are four birds, a common animal in Cretan ceramics, standing in the centre. On the tips of the crescent there are human heads wearing poloi.48 These present similarities to the human figures depicted on an 8th century BC rectangular gold plaque found at the Idaean Cave49 as well as those human heads wearing hats depicted on two decorated gold rings found in Fortetsa.50

Observations

Another important find was quatrefoil in a Maltese cross shape with rounded ends, also made with filigree and granulation, compared to the shape of the two rings mentioned previously. A diadem with stamped designs of human figures and lions found in the deposit resembles a diadem from the Toumba Cemetery at Lefkandi as well as a gold diadem of Fortetsa.51

During the 9th – 7th centuries BC, Knossos seems to be a commercial port. Phoenician traders and craftsmen are not only present there but also in other Aegean sites such as Attica and Lefkandi. These places have in common its location by the sea, which facilitates the access of seafarers. Networks of trade can be traced by looking at imports, such as a SyrioPalestinean jug found in Lefkandi that resembles a jug from Kition in Cyprus or the golden jewellery made by using the techniques of filigree and granulation found at Toumba 79 at Lefkandi,57 very similar to the ones found at the Khaniale Tomb at Knossos, indicating contacts to Phoenicia.

Boardman argued this was a Near Eastern jeweller’s tomb, as between the 9th and the 8th centuries BC some Near Eastern metalworkers arrived in Greece, settled, practiced their craft and taught their techniques. Hence, a community of oriental metalworkers working from Cretan patrons would have been established and the family owners of the tomb in question would have been part of this community.52 Boardman’s argument, supported by Coldstream, was based on the deposition of pots on either sides of the door as in foundation deposits, typical from the Near East, the bars of unworked materials as the craftsman’s stock-in-trade and the oriental character of the objects.53

These Phoenician routes of trade towards the Aegean are not the only ones. Inland routes can also be documented as some oriental objects found in Eleutherna and the Idaean Cave, such as cippi and Egyptian figurines, seem to have been derived from Knossos, as well as Kommos in the south.58 Thus they were ports of entry of orientalia that was traded and spread through inland routes around the island.

Hoffman54 criticised this hypothesis by explaining that foundation deposits were made to protect the building, not the owner of the tomb and, moreover, they were not exclusively a Near Eastern practice. She also noticed that, as seen with the description of the objects, not all the motifs are Near Eastern but also Cretan. Finally, she observed that the

Conclusion

Hutchinson and Boardman, 1954, 216. Odyssey 15.454. 46  Catling, H.W. 1986-87. 47  Hoffman, 2000, 213-221. 48  Hutchinson and Boardman, 1954. 49  Hoffman, 2000, 221. 50  Lebessi 1975. 51  Hoffman, 2000, 225-227. 52  Boardman, 1967, 63. 53  Boardman, 1967, 57-75; and Coldstream, 1982, 267. 54  Hoffman, 2000, 198-229.

Oriental jewellery and metal vases in Tekke Tomb J and the Khaniale Tekke Tholos Tomb 2 indicate that a community of oriental traders and metalworkers would have resided in Knossos, and they would have probably been buried with

There is no doubt that the island of Crete was a very important stop for Phoenician merchants going to the west, as well as for Phoenician craftsmen who wanted to settle permanently. Knossos has provided material to support the presence and residence of Phoenician merchants and metalworkers.

44  45 

Kotsonas, 2006, 159-162. Hoffman, 2000, 235. 57  Kourou, 2012, 35-40. 58  Stampolidis, N.C. & Kotsonas. A. 2013. 55  56 

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Figure 7. Oriental jewellery from Khaniale Tekke Tholos Tomb 2. Acknowledgements

some of their personal belongings. Faience figurines of Egyptian deities show not only this trading network but also the transmission of oriental beliefs.

This article would not be possible without the generous assistance of many people. Firstly, I would like to acknowledge the supervision of John Bennet, to whom I am indebted for criticism, advice and suggestions. I also owe gratitude to Susan Sherratt, who, through deep discussions, has motivated my interest of research, and to Maria Eugenia Aubet, Vyron Antoniadis and Peter Day for their stimulation and suggestions. Finally, I would like to thank Shreya Kalra and Eleni Makrygiorgou for peer reading my work.

The funerary statues identified as cippi prove Phoenicians living in the site of Knossos for a period of considerable length.59 The fact that Phoenicians use a different object to mark their graves makes us think they were aware of their identity. These, together with statuettes of Egyptian gods, indicate the entrance and acceptance of oriental ritual beliefs and practices. Being able to be buried in the North Cemetery of Knossos was very important for foreigners, as it implies they were accepted within the community and they were seen as citizens with rights, and probably duties, even though they had a different identity. That identity, nonetheless, was somewhat shared with the locals, as part of the hybridisation process and the transmission and transformation of practices and, ultimately, culture.

59 

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Morris, S. 1992. Daidalos and the Origins of Greek Art. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Negbi, O. 1992. ‘Early Phoenician Presence in the Mediterranean Islands: A Reapprisal’. American Journal of Archaeology 96: 599-615. Nijboer, A.J. 2008. ‘A Phoenician family tomb, Lefkandi, Huelva and the tenth century BC in the Mediterranean’. Sagona, C. (ed), Beyond the Homeland: Markers in Phoenician Chronology. Ancient Near Eastern Studies. Supplement Series 28. Leuven: 365-378. Pappalardo, E. 2001. ‘I bronzi dell’Antro ideo nel contesto della produzione Cretense Coeva’. Creta Antica 2: 169-190 Pappalardo, E. 2002. ‘Il Tripillar Shrine di Kommos: Alcune considerazioni’. Creta Antica 3: 263-274. Pappalardo, E. 2011. ‘Tra Cnosso e l’Antro Ideo: iconografie e rapporti con l’Oriente’. Rizza, G. (ed.), Convegno di Studi Identità culturale, etnicità, processi di formazione a Creta fra Dark Age e Arcaismo. Catania: Consiglio Nazionale delle Ricerche. Università di Catania: 193-207. Philostratus, Vila Apollonii. In www.perseus.tufts.edu (Accessed on 01/09/15). Pritchard, J.B. 1978. Recovering Sarepta, A Phoenician City. New Jersey: Princeton University Press. Sader, H. 1991. ‘Phoenician stelae from Tyre’. Berytus American University of Beirut 125th Anniversary, 39:101-126. Sakellarakis, J.A. 1998. ‘The Idaean Cave. Minoan and Greek Worship’. Kernos, 1: 207-14. Shaw, J.W. 1989. ‘Phoenicians in southern Crete’, American Journal of Archaeology, 93: 165-83. Shaw. 1998. ‘Kommos in Southern Crete: an Aegean Barometer for East-West Interconnections’. Karageorghis, V. and Stampolidis, N. (eds.), Eastern Mediterranean: Cyprus-Dodecanese-Crete, 16th-6th centuries B.C. Athens: 13-27. Shaw, J.W. 2000. ‘The Architecture of Temples and Other Buildings.’ Shaw, J.W. and Shaw, M. (eds.) Kommos IV: The Greek Sanctuary, Part 1. Princeton: Princeton University Press: 1-100. Shaw, Maria C. 2000. ‘The Sculpture from the Sanctuary.’ Shaw, J.W. and Shaw, M. (eds.) Kommos IV: The Greek Sanctuary, Part 1. Princeton: Princeton University Press: 135-209. Sherratt, A. and Sherratt, S. 1993. ‘The Growth of the Mediterranean Economy in the Early First Milennium BC’. World Archaeology 4: 361-378.

Sherratt, S. 1996. ‘With us but not of us: the role of Crete in Homeric epic’. Evely, D., Lemos I.S. and Sherratt, S. (eds.), Minotaur and Centaur. Papers in the Archaeology of Euboea and Crete Presented to Mervyn Popham. Oxford: Oxford University Press: 87-99. Sherratt, S. 2010. ‘Greeks and Phoenicians: perceptions of trade and traders in the early first millennium BC.’ Bauer, A.A. and Agbe-Davies, A.S. (eds.), Social Archaeologies of Trade and Exchange. Walnut Creek: Left Coast Press: 119-42. Stampolidis, N.C. 1990 a. ‘Eleutherna on Crete; An Interim Report on the Geometric-Archaic Cemetery’. British School of Athens, 85: 375-403. Stampolidis, N.C. 1990 b. ‘A Funerary Cippus at Eleutherna Evidence of Phoenician Presence?’. Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies, 37: 99-106. Stampolidis, N.C. 2003. ‘On the Phoenician Presence in the Aegean’. Stampolidis, N.C. and Karageorghis, V. Ploes Sea Routes: interconnections in the Mediterranean 16th-6th. Proceedings of the International Symposium held at Rethymnon, Crete, in […] 2002. Athens: The University of Crete and the Leventis Foundation. 217-32. Stampolidis, N.C. 2010. Video ‘Tomb of the Priestesses’. BonnMuller (ed.) Archaeological Institute of America. http:// archive.archaeology.org/online/features/eleutherna/ videos.html (Accessed on 01/09/15). Stampolidis, N.C. 2014. ‘Near Eastern Imports and Imagery on Crete During the Early Iron Age’. Aruz, J., Graff, S.B. and Rakic, Y. Assyria to Iberia at the Dawn of the Classical Age. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art: 282-94. Stampolidis, N.C. and Kotsonas, A. 2006. ‘Phoenicians in Crete’. Deger-Jalkotzy, S. and Lemos, I.S. (eds.), Ancient Greece from the Mycenaean Palaces to the Age of Homer. Edimburgh: Edimburgh University Press: 337-60. Stampolidis, N.C. & Kotsonas. A. 2013. ‘Cretan Cave Sanctuaries Of The Early Iron Age To The Roman Period’. Mavridis, F. and Jensen, J. (eds), Stable Places and Changing Perceptions: Cave Archaelogy in Greece and Adjacent Areas. Oxord: Archaeopress: 188-200. Sznycer, M. 1979, ‘L’inscription phénicienne de Tekke, pres de Cnossos’. Kadmos, 18 : 89- 93. Yalouris, N. 1978. ‘Problems Relating to the Temple of Apollo Epikourios at Bassai’, Acta of the XI International Congress of Classical Archaeology (London 1978) Plenary Papers, 2: 89-104.

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Greek Divine Cures Overseas: Italian Realisations of the Greek Paradigm Lidia Ożarowska1 The1importation of Asclepius’ cult to Italy (usually associated with the official introduction of the god to Rome between 293 and 291 BC,2 but actually happening independently of this event as well) appears to have increased the popularity of healing cults in general there, which is perceptible through the surge and wide spread of votive dedications of various type. However, the reception of Greek cult practices was neither total nor straightforward. The Greek influence can often be seen combining with other factors in conditioning the emergence and/or transformation of cult practices in Italy. This article examines two remarkable peculiarities connected with the reception of Greek healing cults in Italy: the content of cure inscriptions (especially regarding the healing methods) and the type of anatomical votives dedicated in healing sanctuaries. This analysis reveals a noteworthy case of cultural interaction in which the preestablished cultural traits and external factors (other sources of influence) determine the idiosyncratic outcome of cultural exchange.

exercise and diet regulation. The shift in time observable between the stages of this evolution and the corresponding phases of advancement in the medical world indicates that the paradigm of healing was being transferred from what is often termed, following Riddle’s distinction,6 low medicine – the sphere of medical knowledge and practice which had become part of popular lore, either simply having arisen from observation and experience or having sunk through (or been deliberately transferred) from high (learned) medicine. Regardless of the temporal shift, however, the direction of the evolution appears to be clear and invariable: spectacular and hazardous surgeries occurring in the early Epidaurian iamata gradually, through stages of shifting proportions, give place to prescriptions to be followed including dietary instructions, bathing or exercise. In the context of this progression along a clearly defined timeline, the cure stories discovered on the Tiber Island at Rome may seem quite puzzling. Four of the five extant inscriptions,7 which have reached us in a set on a single stele, have been dated to the III century AD.8 However, instead of a lengthy list of dietary and hygienic instructions, which would normally be expected of cure accounts of this time, ritual elements definitely prevail in these texts.

Against the Current – Unconventional Healing Methods The first peculiarity regards the content of the inscriptions presenting accounts of cures received in Asclepian sanctuaries (the so-called iamata). As I have demonstrated in my doctoral dissertation,3 in the Greek world the evolution of the image of sanctuary healing followed the same path as the developments in medical practice: from the preeminence of perilous, fearful and very often crude interventions, such as serious surgery or other strenuous methods in the earliest cure inscriptions (IVcentury BC Epidauros)4, through more moderate, mostly drugbased prescriptions from Lebena (Crete) of the II-I centuries BC,5 to the prevailingly dietetic (with occasional occurrence of bathing and exercise) cure testimonies of the times from the I century BC onwards, evidently taking a similar form in various asklepieia, with the indispensable inclusion of Aelius Aristides’ Sacred Tales (Hieroi logoi) – an account of his stay in the sanctuary of Asclepius at Pergamum (II century AD) – where the healing process is definitely dominated by bathing,

The first one recounts the case of Gaius, suffering from blindness: Αὐταῖς ταῖς ἡμέραις Γαίῳ τινὶ τυφλῷ ἐχρημάτισεν ἐλθεῖν ἐπ[ὶ τὸ] ἱερὸν βῆμα καὶ προσκυνῆσαι, εἶτα ἀπὸ τοῦ δεξιοῦ ἐλθεῖν ἐπὶ τὸ ἀριστερὸν καὶ θεῖναι τοὺς πέντε δακτύλους ἐπάνω τοῦ Βήματος καὶ ἆραι τὴν χεῖρα καὶ ἐπιθεῖναι ἐπὶ τοῦς ἰδίους ὀφθαλμούς· καὶ ὀρθὸν ἀνέβλεψε τοῦ δήμου παρεστῶτος καὶ συνχαιρομένου, ὅτι ζῶσαι ἀρεταὶ ἐγένοντο ἐπὶ τοῦ Σεβαστοῦ ἡμῶν Ἀντωνείνου.9 Gaius receives instructions to perform a series of actions connected with the altar in order to regain his sight: to approach the sacred altar and perform proskuvnhs, walk from the right to left, put five fingers upon the altar, then Riddle (1993) 102. The fifth one, separate from this set and predating it by at least a century (Girone (1998) V.1 = IGUR I), is usually assumed to have come from the Tiber Island as well (mainly because it was donated to Rome’s Antiquarium Comunale by the archaeologist Rodolfo Lanciani around the time of the excavations of the Tiber Island, which unearthed anatomical votives and Latin dedications to the god), but its actual place of origin and exact finding spot remain unknown – Renberg (2017) 207. The text is inscribed on a base which was most probably used to support an anatomical votive representing the spleen, and is thus quite laconic: it mentions the condition cured (tumour of the spleen), but any attempts to identify the healing factor (as perceived by the dedicator) would be purely speculative. 8  Girone (1998) V.2a-d = IGUR I 148 = IG XIV 966. For dating and further bibliography see Girone (1998) 157-158. For considerations regarding the location of the asklepieion they come from (Tiber Island or Esquiline) see Renberg (2017) 207-208 n. 222. 9  Girone (1998) V.2a (emphasis mine – L.O.). 6 

Brasenose College, Oxford 2  For a discussion of dating, based on ancient sources, see Besnier (1902) 166-168. 3  Healing Sanctuaries: Between Science and Religion. A case study of the asklepieia, thesis defended 06.05.2016 at the University of Oxford. 4  The iamata have been published repeatedly since the original edition by Kavvadias (1883). The whole text, as it looks on the stelai, can be found in IG IV2 1.121-124 (for stelai 1-4 respectively). Further editions of the text have been published by Herzog (1931), Edelstein & Edelstein (1945) – only the first two stelai, LiDonnici (1995), and Rhodes & Osborne (2003) no 102 – only the first stele. For references to other editions see LiDonnici (1995) 15 n. 1 and Longo (1969) 72. 5  Cure inscriptions from Lebena have been published collectively by Guarducci (1934) as well as by Girone (1998). The two cases from Lebena involving surgery (Girone (1998) III.2a) and the application of cupping instruments (Girone (1998) III.2b) probably belong to the transitional period: III/early II century BC. 1 

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lift the hand and place it on his eyes. The procedure proved successful, quite miraculously, as contrary to what one would expect in a cure story of this time, the god’s advice does not include a single element which would be even vaguely related to therapies applied in medicine, or actually any therapy which could imaginably be recommended and performed outside a ritual context.

because, according to all probability, they come from the sanctuary and this expression referring to the divine power clearly differentiates these substances from those which could be prescribed in medical practice outside the sanctuary. Since Rufus’ account was dedicated in Lebena and predates the set from Rome by around four centuries, it could be seen as undermining the thesis of Roman exceptionality. However, the fact that the dedicator is Roman16 may serve as explanation of the occurrence of the ‘sacred’ ingredients in a different location. It is worth noting how consistent the application of the ash plaster is: in both cases it is prescribed for a pulmonary condition – pleurisy17 in Lucius’ case and chronic cough with expectoration of tissue and blood, most probably indicating tuberculosis or a related condition (Ἐκ διετίας βήσοντά με ἀδ[ιαλεί]|πτως, ὥστε σάρκας ἐνπύου[ς καὶ]| ᾑμαγμένας δι’ ὅλης ἡμέρας ἀ[πο]βάλλειν)18, in Rufus’ case.

Similarly, the next two inscriptions in the set present stories of suppliants cured with simple mixtures they were instructed by the god to prepare using ingredients taken from the altar. Lucius, suffering from pleurisy, is healed through the application of ashes from the altar mixed with wine onto his chest: Λουκίῳ πλεθρειτικῷ καὶ ἀφηλπισμένῳ ὑπὸ παντὸς ἀνθρώπου ἐχρησμάτισεν ὁ θεὸς ἐλθεῖν καὶ ἐκ τοῦ τριβώμοθ ἆραι τέφραν καὶ μετ’ οἴνου ἀναφυρᾶσαι καὶ ἐπιθεῖναι ἐπὶ τὸ πλευρόν· καὶ ἐσώθη καὶ δημοσίᾳ ηὐχαρίστησεν τῷ θεῷ καὶ ὁ δῆμος συνεχάρη αὐτῷ.10

In all the three prescriptions from the Roman set mentioned so far the central motif appears to be the altar. The suppliants are instructed to perform actions in connection with it, and use ashes or foods taken from it. Elements involving the altar constitute crucial or (in the first case) exclusive healing factors. This puts them in stark contrast with texts from other asklepieia, where the principal motivation for the inclusion of given substances or procedures in the detailed prescriptions (attributed to the god, but clearly following human medical knowledge and reasoning) seems to have been their properties and effect on the human organism.

Iulianus in turn is ordered to take pine seeds from the altar and eat them with honey: Αἷμα ἀναφέροντι Ἰουλιανῷ ἀφηλπισμένῳ ὑπὸ παντὸς ἀνθρώπου ἐχρησμάτισεν ὁ θεὸς ἐλθεῖν καὶ ἐκ τοῦ τριβώμου ἆραι κόκκους στροβίλου καὶ φαγεῖν μετὰ μέλιτος ἐπὶ τρεῖς ἡμέρας· καὶ ἐσώθη καὶ ἐλθὼν δημοσίᾳ ηὐχαρίστησεν ἔμπροσθεν τοῦ δήμου.11

Finally, the last inscription in this set of four combines both these approaches. Valerius Aprus’ blindness is cured through his anointing the eyes with a mixture of white cock’s blood with honey and κολλύριον:

Particularly worth attention is the preparation of the wineand-ashes plaster in Lucius’ case. Plasters containing wine were not unknown to Greek medicine: they were prescribed for instance by Erasistratus (together with warming measures) in his treatment of biliousness for their painkilling effect,12 and they appear also in other physicians’ recommendations.13 In terms of structure and consistency, the mixture of ashes – loose, powdery substance – and wine would most probably form a plaster indeed,14 which would have a soothing (even if no other) effect. However, in this case the preparation of the plaster is given an additional, divine dimension: the ashes come from the altar, which seems to be the main reason for their application here. This makes the mixture come closer again to the fantastic cures from earlier times, where the connection between the ailment and the cure for it was far from rational.

Οὐαλερίῳ Ἄπρῳ στρατιώτῃ τυφλῷ ἐχρησμάτισεν ὁ θεὸς ἐλθεῖν καὶ λαβεῖν αἷμα ἐξ ἀλεκρυῶνος λευκοῦ, μετὰ μέλιτος καὶ κολλυρίου συντρῖψαι καὶ ἐπὶ τρεῖς ἡμέρας ἐπιχρεῖσαι ἐπὶ τοὺς ὀφθαλμούς· καὶ ἀνέβλεψεν καὶ ἐλήλυθεν καὶ ηὐχαρίστησεν δημοσίᾳ τῷ θεῷ.19 Substances known under the generic term κολλύρια were indeed used in medicine as eye-salves20 and honey was a popular ingredient of drugs in antiquity in general.21 The white cock’s blood in turn is most probably serving here as a purely symbolic element referring to the divine: the association of the cock with Asclepius is widely known and the connotation of white animals in sacrifice with purification has been pointed out in scholarship.22 In this case the god’s prescription freely combines medical substances with elements of symbolic character. The ritual component is not only juxtaposed, but even physically mixed with a real medicine to produce the curative substance. This text, therefore, constitutes a perfect example of the lack of discrimination between medical and

The wine-and-ashes plaster bears a striking similarity to the poultice made of sacred ash and sacred water appearing in one of the inscriptions dedicated by Granius Rufus in the asklepieion at Lebena: εἶτα κονίαν ἀπὸ τῆς ἱερᾶς σποδοῦ| καὶ τοῦ ἱεροῦ ὕδατος.15 The ashes and the water are called ‘sacred’ Girone (1998) V.2b (emphasis mine – L.O.). Girone (1998) V.2c (emphasis mine – L.O.). 12  As reported by Caelius Aurelianus, Celeres passiones, III.213: contra dolores autem tepidis utitur vaporationibus et cataplasmatibus ex vino. 13  Apollonius: Gal., Comp. Med. Loc. III, XII.663 Kühn; Archigenes: Gal, Comp. Med. Loc. IV, XII.795 Kühn and VIII, XII.219 Kühn. 14  Compare the poultice made of flour and wine from one of the inscriptions dedicated by Granius Rufus in the asklepieion at Lebena in the I century BC: Girone (1998) III.13, ll. 9ff. 15  Girone (1998) III.12, ll. 12-13. The ashes (sacred, because taken from the altar) most probably appear in the same inscription again, accompanying figs, in lines 18-19. 10  11 

For suppositions regarding his identity and relevant bibliography see Girone (1998) 119 n. 100. 17  Lucius is described as πλεθρειτικός- Girone (1998) V.2b l. 7. 18  Girone (1998) III.12, ll. 4-7. 19  Girone (1998) V.2d (emphasis mine – L.O.). 20  For details and further references see Girone (1998) 168, n. 51. 21  Some references and bibliography may be found in Girone (1998) 68 n. 82. 22  Girone (1998) 168 n. 49. 16 

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supernatural methods, and illustrates the facility with which they could coexist within one cure account.

was attached to chants and spells as well as other ritual actions.26 This tradition was so deeply rooted in the Roman society that its persistence is still conspicuous long after the spread of the influence of Greek physicians,27 who are credited with instituting medicine as profession in the Roman world. Its traces not only survived in the works of medical writers as late as Celsus, Scribonius Largus (I century AD) or Serenus Sammonicus (III century AD), but seem to be perpetuated by them.28 At the same time, and perhaps connectedly, conspicuous hostility towards Greek doctors is perceptible. The mistrust and enmity which the Romans developed for Archagathus, according to Pliny,29 seems to be emblematic of the Roman attitude to Greek physicians in general,30 despite the subsequent influx of other doctors, showing a great variety of methods and approaches. The popularity of successful figures, such as Asclepiades of Bithynia (II-I century BC), must have facilitated and increased the reception of Greek medicine on Italian ground, but even he, due to his application of mild and often pleasant treatments, was seen by Pliny as preying on people’s gullibility, their fear of painful and hazardous methods, and their favouring gentle therapies.31

The occurrence of elements which have little to do with medicine and appear to have some symbolic or ritual value obscure to us is not singular in itself. The predominantly dietetic therapy (including also bathing and exercise) described so elaborately in an inscription dedicated by Apellas in the asklepieion at Epidauros around 160 AD, also contains the supernatural factor, here taking the form of the god’s healing touch: Ἥψατο δέ μου καὶ τῆς δεξιᾶς χιρὸς καὶ τοῦ μαστοῦ.23 The divine healing hand seems to function at the same level with the dietary recommendations. However, the proportion of the ‘supernatural’ component in the entire therapeutic process is marginal in this case, so its contribution to the overall character of the prescription is negligible; its only significance lies in showing that the merit for the cure is attributed to the deity, regardless of the use of substances pertaining to human medicine. Therefore, it is the dominance of ritual elements in the Roman inscriptions, unusual in this period, that seems striking and demanding explanation. Although there are reasons to think that the predominant part of medical advancements and innovations in therapy were introduced in the Greek context,24 lack of familiarity with these developments attributable to geographical distance and/or insufficient exposition to current trends can be safely discarded as the reason for such discrepancy. The activity and impact of Greek physicians (including some particularly influential figures, such as Asclepiades of Bithynia) spread, together with Roman political and cultural influence, over the greater part of the Mediterranean world and so did the rationalist theories and ever-increasing medical and herbal lore of Greek physicians. This phenomenon may be deemed as accounting for the similarities between even the geographically remote asklepieia. Therefore, the cause of the Roman inscriptions’ peculiarity must be sought elsewhere, and the character and history of Roman medicine provides an important context here.

This does not mean, of course, that Greek medicine was entirely rejected by the Roman society with the exception of the congenial treatments proposed by Asclepiades. The encyclopaedic tradition, which had existed in Rome for some time already, contributed to the transmission of Greek medical theories and concepts.32 However, they must necessarily have formed part of what Riddle termed ‘high medicine’, which in his words was ‘a structure of analysis and explanation for illnesses and their cures that extended to a means of synthesizing the empirical experiences into generalizations’.33 While the Roman elite might have appreciated (even if not actually understood) Greek medical thought,34 within the sphere of ‘low medicine’ (according to Riddle: ‘an empirical knowledge of what caused illnesses and how they were treated, with a minimum explanation mostly of a religious nature’) Greek practices were nevertheless approached with caution and mistrust. There are known cases of amiable cooperation, in which consulting a doctor would happen side by side with, apparently non-exclusive, practising home medicine, such as that of a wealthy Roman who decided to turn to Galen for help once he realised that his own treatment of his slave’s wound did not work, but at the same time asked Galen for the recipe in order to be able to apply it at home next time when necessity arises.35 However, it seems probable that many people showed an attitude close to that manifestly held by Cato, who hated Greek physicians, believed that they had a secret pact against Rome, and insisted on practising home medicine, using his own book of recipes.36

It is symptomatic that in the widely accepted view, the way professional medicine came to be in the Roman world is conceived of and presented (both in ancient sources and modern scholarship) as introduction rather than development in situ. Traditionally associated with the skills that every paterfamilias should possess and exercise within his own household,25 Roman medicine appears to have existed for centuries without any need for codification or formal instruction, being passed on from generation to generation. The healing practices relied mostly on the knowledge of herbs and botanical potions, but equal (if not greater) importance

Scarborough (1993) 16. Tradition ascribes the beginning of this influence to the arrival of Archagathus in Rome in 219 BC (Plin., NH, XXIX.6), but the Greek impact at this point was most probably neither instantaneous nor unprecedented. 28  Illustrative examples can be found in Scarborough (1993) 20-21. 29  Plin. NH, XXIX, 6. 30  Compare, however, Hornblower (2018) 148 n. 9. 31  Plin., NH, XXVI.7-8. 32  Scarborough (1993) 30-32. 33  Riddle (1993) 102. 34  Scarborough (1993) 37-38. 35  For more details and references to Galen’s works see Harris (2016) 51. 36  Plut. Cat. Mai. 23.3-4; Plin. NH, XXIX.7. 26  27 

Girone (1998) II.4, ll. 23-24. To cite just one illustrative example, in the I century AD Pliny, NH, XXIX.8.17 states that medicine is a Greek art, never practised by the Romans thitherto, and that all respected medical treatises are written in Greek: Solam hanc artium Graecarum nondum exercet Romana gravitas, in tanto fructu paucissimi Quiritium attigere et ipsi statim ad Graecos transfugae, immo vero auctoritas aliter quam Graece eam tractantibus etiam apud inperitos expertesque linguae non est, ac minus credunt quae ad salutem suam pertinent, si intellegant. Although this statement may sound bitter and suggest poor judgement (whether of the Greeks or people in general), it nonetheless clearly evidences a strong dominance of Greeks in the medical sphere, with minimal Roman input. 25  Scarborough (1993) 13. 23  24 

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This tension between the interest in new developments in medical theory or therapy and the reluctance to undergo treatments applied by Greek physicians resulted in a peculiar, but in its context quite comprehensible, amalgam, in which medical knowledge and authority blended with inclination towards magical lore and practices. This phenomenon seems to be most conspicuous in the period of the Roman Empire: it is to this period that most of the so-called ‘medical’ gems (gems believed to provide protection from illness, worn in amulets or as ring stones) are dated;37 and it is in the II century AD when evidence points to wealthy women paying attention to astrologers and doctors in equal measure.38

the best-documented in Greece, but they also constitute cases where the variety of the votive material is extremely wide, covering different parts of human body and different modes of their representation. It is all the more telling, therefore, that the proportion of internal organs among them is so marginal that it may be considered as negligible. As the respective diagrams show (Figures 1-2), in Athens only 6 such organs were recorded (5 hearts and 1 bladder), which constitutes merely 1.5% of the total 392 anatomical parts included in the epigraphic catalogue; in Corinth only one object has been found which may be interpreted as an internal organ (among 117 bodily parts, which does not make even 1%), but its form is so unclear that an unambiguous identification is impossible.42 Moreover, apart from the cases illustrated here, there are only 4 further examples of internal organs dedicated within Greece, out of which 2 are uncertain: two uteri are mentioned in Delian inventories43 and two clay plaques depicting respiratory organs (cricoid cartilage, trachea, bronchi, lungs) and the uterus/bladder have been found at Cos (there is a possibility, however, that these two dedications belong to modern times).44

Roman attitude to medicine clearly remained for centuries in the form of such fusion, which is testified to by Dioscorides (mid-I century AD), whose account of medical practices includes both rational and supernatural elements: for instance, in his description of the procedure of digging up hellebore the root cutters observed the flight of eagles and prayed to Apollo and Asclepius.39 In this context, it becomes clear that the content of these cure stories illustrates the amalgam which had emerged at Rome out of the combination of the traditional, magic-encompassing lore and the medical knowledge acquired throughout ages. Although at first sight they may appear disruptive of the model in which the evolution of sanctuary healing practices echoes the developments in medical therapy, what they actually exemplify is its local adaptation, influenced by the prevailing tendencies, while not reducible to them. Thus, the Roman example does not detract from the universality of the model, but actually confirms it by providing an interesting case where the conception of medicine and the medical profession is created by a gradual permeation of specialist knowledge to popular thought, which nevertheless retains its deeply rooted folklore components.

Such a proportion is even more surprising when considered alongside the fact that the rate of cases involving internal organs among the cure accounts dedicated in Greek sanctuaries in epigraphic form is relatively high (33%).45 This testifies to the fact that healing deities, especially Asclepius, were approached by suppliants with internal ailments quite often. The contrast between these proportions and those encountered in the Italian context is remarkable. The case of Fregellae (Figure 3) – to take a relatively well-documented Asclepian sanctuary as an example for comparison – shows that the number of internal organs unearthed on one site could be as high as 166. The fact that they constitute only around 12% of the total number of anatomical finds there (this figure being already considerably higher than those in Greece) arises from the extremely large quantity of feet, which may suggest some peculiarity of the site, certain symbolic value of feet (perhaps unconnected with healing), or be a result of wrong attribution or reconstruction.46 Other Italian sites have rendered high numbers as well, with the Tiber Island sanctuary reaching 136 and that of the Belvedere Hill at Lucera – 74. A remarkably large deposit of wombs and swaddled babies (6000) has been found also at Paestum, in the vicinity of a building which is considered to have been a

Insight Inside: Votive Representations of Internal Organs Another striking peculiarity of Italian healing sanctuaries is the occurrence of an incomparably high number of anatomical votives representing internal bodily parts. It is remarkable that among the anatomical votives dedicated in Greece the examples of internal organs are extremely rare, which is easy to observe through a statistical analysis of anatomical votive dedications at given Greek sites. Let the examples of Athens and Corinth serve as illustration here. Detailed information about the Athenian material has been preserved in the inventory of donations from the asklepieion in Athens (containing objects dedicated between mid-IV century BC and the end of the III century BC; the inscription is dated to the III century BC).40 The impressive wealth of objects dedicated in Corinth in turn have been brought to light through excavations.41 These two sanctuaries are not only among

It has usually been labelled as stomach/uterus/bladder – for discussion see van Straten (1981) 124 no 15.118; for picture see Roebuck (1951) pl. 45 no 118. 43  ID 1442, A, 55 (145/4 BC), in the Isideion: ὑστέρας ἀργυρᾶς δύο, ἀνάθημα Ἀρτεμοῦς; listed in van Straten (1981) 128 no 25e. See, however, Flemming (2017) 123 for the suggestion that these are cases of Italian votive practices in Greece. 44  For description and discussion see van Straten (1981) 132 nos. 30.910. 45  Among the 63 inscriptions whose state of preservation is sufficient for the identification of the suppliants’ medical condition there are 21 mentioning illnesses involving internal organs. This proportion is high for all the precincts in Greece and Asia Minor where epigraphic material has been found: 16 out of 53 in Epidauros, 4 out of 8 in Lebena, and the only identifiable condition in Pergamum is also internal. 46  The difficulties which the interpretation of this material entails are clearly visible in the account of the excavation finds: Coarelli (1986) 139-141. 42 

Nagy (2012) 73. Harris (2016) 42. Dsc., De Materia Medica, IV.162.4. 40  The two main inventories are contained in IG II-III2 1534 A and B, but fragments of other catalogues, of various dating and preservation state, have reached us too (IG II-III2 1532-1539); Aleshire (1989) distinguishes nine inventories in the extant epigraphic material; on their identification and dating see Aleshire (1989) 110, 112. 41  A detailed account of the excavations and the material unearthed is presented in Roebuck (1951). 37  38  39 

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Figure 1. Anatomical votives dedicated in the Asklepieion at Athens. Source of data: inventories of the Athenian Asklepieion between mid-IV century BC and the end of the III century BC (IG II2 1532-1537 and 1539), as presented in F.T. van Straten (1981), ‘Gifts for the Gods’, in H.S. Versnel (ed.), Faith, Hope and Worship (Leiden), p. 109.

Figure 2. Votive offerings dedicated in the Asklepieion at Corinth. Source of data: C. Roebuck, The Asklepieion and Lerna (Corinth XIV, 1951), F.T. van Straten (1981), ‘Gifts for the Gods’, in H.S. Versnel (ed.), Faith, Hope and Worship (Leiden), pp. 123-124.

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Figure 3. Votive offerings dedicated in the Asklepieion at Fregellae. Source of data: F. Coarelli (1986), Fregellae 2. Il santuario di Esculapio (Roma), pp. 132-141. sanctuary of a healing deity on the basis of its layout and the structures it contains.47

Etruscan influence.50 However, such reasoning suffers from several drawbacks. First of all, there is no reason to claim that medical knowledge in Italy surpassed that in Greece in any way, be it the degree of detail or dissemination: as has been said, it rather seems that Roman learning in this discipline came from the Greek influence. Secondly, the resistance and mistrust which the Greek physicians encountered there and the attachment to traditional methods, often including supernatural or magical elements, could serve as argument against Roman desire for anatomical knowledge beyond the basic acquaintance required for simple interventions that might be needed within the household. Furthermore, the assumption that the Romans would be apt to assume a farreaching similarity, let alone identicalness, of animal and human internal anatomy is precarious. Besides, it has already been noted in scholarship that in the majority of artefacts

Furthermore, one of the most popular ‘internal’ anatomical votives takes the form of the so-called polyvisceral plaque, with multiple organs represented within a teardrop-shape body framework,48 a type which is completely absent from the Greek material. An immediate and intuitive reaction to such a variation of votive practice (especially in the case of sanctuaries of the same deity) is to interpret it as an innovation and to look for its explanation in the wide spread of detailed anatomical knowledge in Italy, whose sources are to be sought in dissection of human bodies, in the observation of wounds and mutilations inflicted in wars, in simple inference by analogy from animal anatomy (which would have become familiar through a variety of activities, the most common being sacrifice, butchery, food preparation, haruspicy and extispicy)49 or in

mortem) has been suggested as an additional possibility for such viewings (Turfa (1994), 228-230), but there are several arguments against it: 1. female representations of internal organs never include babies (which would be a tempting option, given the death rate in childbirth and the high proportion of other votives related to pregnancy and child delivery); 2. the amount of information gained – according to all probability, the incision (even if a size bigger than in present day is assumed) would not reveal many of the organs represented; 3. the suggestion arose mainly from the fact that some of the open bodies showing the viscera are female, which in itself does not change much – the organ representation is analogical to that in male bodies. For further discussion see Hughes (2017) 87 with n. 55. 50  Scarborough (1993) 9ff.

The deposit has been found in the so-called Giardino Romano, directly to the west of the sanctuary – for the map see Fig. 4; for arguments supporting the attribution of the sanctuary to a healing deity see Greco (1988) 85. 48  Descriptions and pictures of a wide selection of such votives can be found in Tabanelli (1962). 49  For ‘opportune sightings of animal and human bodies’ see Turfa (1994) 226-227, Hughes (2017) 87-89. A similar view was expressed already by Regnault (1926) 140. Caesarian section (including post47 

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Figure 4. Paestum – the area of the Forum. C – Curia; M – Macellum; TG – Greek Temple; St – Stoa; TI – Italic Temple; PS, PW, PN – Porticoes of the Forum: south, west, north; Th – Baths; GR – “Giardino Romano” (“Roman Garden”); H – Capitolium (“Temple of Peace”); I – Comitium; G – Gymnasium; A – Amphitheatre; 6 – Lararium; 1-18 – Shops, 13 – so-called “Aerarium”. Source: Greco. E. (1988), “Archeologia delle colonia latina di Paestum”, Dialoghi di Archeologia ser. 3, an. 6, no. 2: 81. there are evident differences between the representations of animal and human organs.51

Finally, the votives themselves do not provide sufficient support for this view, as they do not seem to reflect any exceptional anatomical knowledge. Admittedly, it is not easy to judge these objects properly, as space and technology might have been as much of a limitation in their production as anatomical expertise. Depending on individual approaches rather than solid arguments, scholars tend to see the representations of internal organs either as expressing precise knowledge52 or,

Turfa (1994) 227-228. Although she does not claim any exceptional accuracy for most of the anatomical votives, she asserts that some of them, especially the uteri, bear features which can only be attributable to human organs (e.g. the single ‘neck’, which differs from the bicornuate uteri in cattle, equines, swine and dogs). 51 

52 

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Decouflé (1964) 20-23 and 37 claims that at least some of them

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Figure 5. Polyvisceral ex-votos from Tessennano, with a snake-shaped trachea. Source: Costantini, S. (1995), Il deposito votivo del santuario Campestre di Tessennano VIII Regio VII, 4 (Rome) pl. 45, d and e. on the contrary, as flawed and imaginative53 in their portrayal

of human anatomy. One possible solution to this divergence in verdict could be the interpretation proposed already by Rouquette54 and supported by Haumesser,55 according to which these objects expressed contemporary knowledge and commonly held medical beliefs. However, such a statement is as convenient in this situation as it is problematic. For the question arises which, or whose, medical beliefs are involved (or implied) here, as the level of anatomical awareness among authors of medical treatises (to which our access is relatively greatest), would differ from that among ordinary medical practitioners, which would in turn be incomparable to that (most probably very much diversified itself) among common people of different classes and education. It is impossible to

(mostly the polyvisceral plaques) show profound knowledge and he would even consider their creators as pioneers of anatomy (‘les initiateurs, les découvreurs , les premiers maîtres de l’anatomie’); his belief in the presence of scientific intention in these artefacts led him also to suggest that they might have been used for medical instruction. Costantini (1995) 77 also defends the accuracy of at least part of the votives, and even though she appreciates the apparent incorrections in others, she suggests that some of them (especially those involving organs ‘missing’ from the representation) can be explained with the artisans intending to render the visibility of particular organs and the invisibility of others, hidden deeper in the body. Decouflé (1964) 2728 in turn appreciates the effort invested in some artefacts to show more organs than would normally be visible at a simple opening of a body and postulates the use of a technique analogical to what in the modern study of anatomy is called réclinaison (Fr.: changing the position or removal of some organs to reveal other), whether for the purpose of pointing to a particular ailment or otherwise. Turfa (1994) 227-229 believes that some of the details the anatomical votices contain (especially particular anomalies or malformations) could only have been observed in human surgery or dissection (e.g., fibroids, a uterus with two cervices). 53  Regnault (1926) 137, famously, said that it was ‘easy to prove that the coroplasts who made these ex-votos had less anatomical knowledge than a butcher’. Turfa (1994) 225 noted the incorrectness of the positioning of the incision in the body: ‘the tear-drop shaped incision

is not in the correct area, but generally over the waistline or higher, although abdominal organs are shown, almost in a telescoped view’. Tabanelli (1962) 86 in turn concluded that while the topography of the organs can be in most cases considered as relatively correct, the form of isolated organs is usually deficient, if not altogether wrong; he affirms strongly: ‘non esiste alcun diretto, serio o perfettamente documentabile rapporto fra le figurazioni degli organi, quali sono esattamente descritti nella anatomia normale, umana od animale, e gli stessi, quali sono illustrati negli ex voto etruschi e romani’. 54  Rouquette (1911) 508 quoted in Regnault (1926) 137. 55  Haumesser (2017) 182.

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determine categorically which group would be responsible to the greatest extent for the content and visual form of the anatomical representations in votive dedications, as it is most probable that all of them would have contributed to it, even if not in equal measure and or in the same ways: for instance, while the general conception of the human body interior might have originated in medical studies and practice, the final form could have been shaped by other factors as well, such as popular conceptions, visual attractiveness, artistic innovation and creativity, allusions to other objects,56 trends and fashion, conventions prevalent in arts and crafts,57 finally symbolism.

Therefore, it seems that it would be more appropriate to consider these votives in terms of craft traditions rather than actual anatomical knowledge or convictions.60 This framework becomes particularly compelling when the use of moulds in the production process is considered. It not only indicates the mass character of manufacture, but also provides insight into the intricacies of anatomical model transmission.61 It is important to observe that the representations were not based on a single anatomical model: the broad spectrum of the polyvisceral schemata evidences that a variety of models co-existed contemporaneously. This indicates that these objects do not show signs of gradual improvement in reaction to increasing anatomical knowledge. Hughes interprets the existence of so many variations in portrayals of internal organs (by analogy with the anatomical diversity of animal organs which made haruspicy and extispicy possible) as reflecting the conception of the human body as dynamic and volatile – features which were considered as crucial for the communication between the gods and mortals.62 However, this proposition rests on several perilous assumptions: 1. that the diversity of the anatomical votive forms was the result of a conscious creation; 2. that the extent of anatomical diversification of animal organs was comparable to the range of heterogeneity among anatomical votive forms; 3. that the practices of haruspicy and extispicy, as forms of communication with the divine, were analogous to votive dedication; 4. that anatomical accuracy was a stable concept, with a clear single model to be followed, and that varying degree of conformity to this model was the sole cause of the emergence of multiple votive representation types. Since none of the above can be claimed with any certitude, this interpretation seems quite frail.

The fact that anatomical accuracy of these objects appears to be a matter of attitude and general impression testifies to their schematic nature: the same scheme may appear more or less convincing to people, who subconsciously grant it more or less resemblance to reality. It should be noted that the correctness of the general arrangement of the main internal organs in the abdominal and/or thoracic cavity is not a great feat: it could have easily been achieved even on the sole basis of a good verbal description. It is the shape and the nuances of the organs’ fitting in together that could provide basis for the assessment of the objects’ anatomical accuracy. When the polyvisceral plaques are analysed with regard to this aspect, it turns out that, apart from single cases, they are very simplified and schematic: the organs’ arrangement is not an exact reflection of that existing in the human body, but rather its symbolic rendering, suggestive of the reality while not depicting it in a veristic way – they are meant to evoke rather than reflect with strict fidelity the elements of human anatomy. (Perhaps the understanding of this fact explains why these objects never became object of study among the medical historians, an observation which appeared puzzling to Hughes58 – it is possible that these representations did not seem close enough to anatomical reality to be considered as attempts at veristic depictions by them at all). As Tabanelli suggested, anatomical accuracy was most probably neither within the artisans’ capacity, nor was it their aim.59

In search for a more probable explanation one needs to focus on the intention and priorities of both the creators and the dedicators of these objects (in this case convergent). Since the simultaneous circulation of different models was not a source of concern for them, it is most probable that anatomical accuracy was not their primary aim. As Flemming has pointed out, the anatomical votives serve a means of engaging the god with the suppliant’s body, of drawing the god’s attention to its element(s).63 As such, they would require only enough fidelity to evoke given part(s) of the body, without the necessity for exceptional exactitude. Besides, since votive dedication was a popular activity, practised by people of various social strata,64 it is possible that knowledge of anatomy was not particularly relevant: the representations were supposed to be roughly correct, but most people would not be able to recognise inaccuracies.

A particularly illustrative case is that of the two polyvisceral plaques from Tessennano in which the trachea has been shaped so as to imitate a snake (Fig. 5). Costantini (1995) 77–8 and 152–3 attributes symbolical value to these representations (regarding them as visual references to the god Asclepius) and Hughes (2017) 75-77 and 100-104 suggests that they testify to the importance of animal connotations and hybridity. While these explanations of the fantastic composition are not impossible, it is likely that the reason for it is simpler and more prosaic: it might have resulted from a natural and intuitive association of the elongated tubular and flexible organ with the serpent shape, quite surrealist, but with no deeper symbolism attached. 57  Turfa (1994) 225 suggests that the stylised and schematic nature of the anatomical models may be due to the pre-eminence of convention, which led to a rearrangement of organs to form neat, symmetrical and orderly objects, at the expense of realism. 58  Hughes (2017) 82 n. 52. This observation, however, is true only for the period until the beginning of the XIX century. The vivid interest in these objects shown thenceforth by physicians and medical historians (often combined in one person) is evident both from the antiquities market and from the academic studies published by people of both medical and medical history profession. For a history of the phenomenon see Haumesser (2017) passim. 59  Tabanelli (1962) 86-87: ‘gli artigiani, nella fabbricazione di questi esemplari, non si preoccupassero troppo e tenessero in poco conto quelli che potevano essere i fondamenti scientifici della loro opera. Essi si curavano solamente, di foggiare esemplari che, grossolanamente, rappresentassero l’interno di un corpo umano, od animale che fosse; 56 

non era né compito, né capacità loro, sia per lo scopo cui dovevano servire, sia per le relative acquisizioni che essi possedevano, eseguire un’opera scrupolosamente e rigorosamente scientifica’. 60  Oddly, Haumesser (2017) 182 seems to be supporting both these approaches at the same time, as if not noticing the incongruity. 61  An interesting example of the use and reuse of internal organ plaques in the production of open busts is discussed by Haumesser (2017) 185-190. 62  Hughes (2017) 89-90. 63  Flemming (2016) 111. 64  For a discussion of several indicators of the wide spread and popularity of this practice (such as accessibility of sites, availability of votives, mass production, local manufacture, differentiation in size, style, fineness and material) see Flemming (2016) 116-119.

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Therefore, the importance of the anatomical votives representing internal organs lies in what they can reveal not about the anatomical knowledge or lack thereof, but rather about the interest and focus of people dedicating in Italian healing sanctuaries. Internal diseases were certainly more difficult to diagnose and less well known, both in their aetiology and treatment; hence, they probably appeared more mysterious. They seem to have appealed more to the Roman/Italic people, who perhaps had a particular preference for the obscure, the hidden, the unfathomable. This definitely harmonises with the predilection for the supernatural, which is apparent in the healing methods presented in the Roman cure accounts discussed above. It seems that in Italy people endeavoured to visually represent what the Greeks would perhaps either refer to symbolically by offering a figurine (whole body) or torso, or describe verbally in an epigraphic testimony relating the case.

of medical writings. However, the nature of early Roman medicine (hardly codified, highly dependent on popular herbal lore, with a predilection for magical elements) and its reaction to (and interaction with) the Greek input (absorptive of particular ‘scientific’ details, but retentive of the ritual-focused approach at the same time) hindered proper reception of ideas and practices. As a result, a peculiar amalgam emerged in which the traditional Italian features (such as ‘supernatural’ cures, interest in internal organs) blended with the Greek influence to create a truly unique phenomenon. Bibliography Aleshire, S.B. 1989, The Athenian Asklepieion, The people, their dedications and the inventories Amsterdam. Besnier, M. 1902, L’ile tibérine dans l’antiquité Paris. Coarelli, F. 1986, Fregellae, 2. Il santuario di Esculapio Rome. Costantini, S. 1995, Il deposito votivo del santuario Campestre di Tessennano VIII Regio VII, 4 Rome. Decouflé, P. 1964, La notion d’ex- voto anatomique chez les EtruscoRomains. Analyse et synthèse, Latomus Brussel. Edelstein, E.J. & Edelstein, L. 1945, Asclepius. A Collection and Interpretation of the Testimonies Baltimore [MA]. Flemming, R. 2017 ‘Wombs for the Gods’, in J. Draycott and E- J. Graham (eds), Bodies of Evidence: Ancient Anatomical Votives Past, Present and Future London – New York [NY]: 112– 30. Flemming, R. 2016, ‘Anatomical Votives: Popular Medicine in Republican Italy?’, in Harris, W.V. (ed.), Popular Medicine in Graeco-Roman Antiquity: Explorations Leiden – Boston [MA]: 105-125. Girone, M. 1998, Iavmat. Guarigioni miracolose di Asclepio in testi epigrafici Bari. Guarducci, M. 1934, ‘I ‹‹miracoli di Asclepio›› a Lebena’, Historia. Studi storici per l’antichità classica Milano-Roma: 410-428. Harris, W.V. 2016, ‘Popular Medicine in the Classical World’, in idem (ed.), Popular Medicine in Graeco-Roman Antiquity: Explorations Leiden-Boston [MA]. Haumesser, L. 2017, ‘The Open Man: Anatomical Votive Busts Between the History of Medicine and Archaeology’, in Draycott, J. & Graham, E.J. (eds), Bodies of Evidence: Ancient Anatomical Votives Past, Present and Future London – New York [NY]: 165-192. Herzog, R. 1931, Die Wunderheilungen von Epidauros. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Medizin und der Religion Leipzig. Hornblower, S. 2018, Lykophron’s Alexandra, Rome and the Hellenistic World Oxford Hughes, J. 2017, Votive Body Parts in Greek and Roman Religion Cambridge. Kavvadias, P. 1883, ‘ Epigrafa ej t ej Epidauri ajnaskaf’, EqhmerArcaiologikh 1883: 197-238. LiDonnici, L.R. 1995, The Epidaurian Miracle Inscriptions. Text, Translation and Commentary Atlanta [GA]. Régnault, F. 1926 ‘Les ex- voto polysplanchniques de l’antiquité’, Bulletin de la Société française d’Histoire de la Médecine 20: 135– 50. Renberg, G.H. 2017, Where Dreams May Come: Incubation Sanctuaries in the Graeco-Roman World Leiden-Boston [MA]. Riddle, J.M. 1993, ‘High Medicine and Low Medicine in the Roman Empire’, ANRW II 37.1 Berlin-New York [NY]: 102120.

Inevitably, the question arises why such interest is not perceptible in Greece. Several explanations have been proposed in scholarship, including the disgust such representations would arouse among the Greeks, the sanctuary regulations concerning purity, and the prevalent medical view, in which internal organs were presented mostly as liquid or connected with liquids and thus too vaguely defined (almost amorphous) to be visually depictable.65 However, in the light of the above observations, another possible explanation emerges: the difference in interest and focus. The connection between this interest and anatomical knowledge is ambiguous: on the one hand, detailed knowledge (whatever its source) might have resulted in a desire (and ability) to represent the interior of the human body; on the other hand, lack of precise knowledge and the necessity to rely on vague descriptions or illustrations could have stirred imagination and stimulated explorations in the form of (often fantastic) visual depictions. Finally, it should be noted that any expectations of uniformity with regard to healing cult practice in Greece and Italy would be quite misplaced. There is evidence indicating that the Italian anatomical votive dedication habit predates the introduction of Greek healing cults.66 Besides, there were other sources of influence present which need to be taken into consideration (e.g., the Etruscans, discussed above). Concluding Remarks It appears that although many elements of Greek healing cults were transferred to Italy, the process did not entail a simple and faithful reproduction of the Greek cult practices. The conceptions of divine healing in the Italian context seem to be much more independent of the evolution of medical practices than they were in Greece. The influence of Greek medicine encompassed practical skills, formulation of doctrines, finally codification of knowledge in the form For a more detailed presentation and discussion of these propositions see Hughes (2017) 93-96. The last explanation seems to be the least probable for many reasons, including chronology: it could be argued that such a view is prevalent in the Hippocratic Corpus, but it was not ever-lasting, and the practice of dedicating internal organs seems to have never actually emerged in Greece. 66  See, for instance, the anatomical votives excavated in Northern Italy dating back to as early as the VII century BC – Turfa (2004) 364 nos. 305, 306. 65 

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Rhodes, P.J. & Osborne, R. 2003, Greek Historical Inscriptions 404323 BC Oxford. Roebuck, C. 1951, Corinth. Results of excavations conducted by the American School of Classical Studies at Athens, vol. XIV: The Asclepieion and Lerna Princeton [NJ]. Rouquette, P. 1911 ‘Les ex-voto médicaux d’organes internes dans l’antiquité romaine’, Bullétin Societé Française Histoire de la Medécine 10: 504– 20. Scarborough, J. 1993, ‘Roman Medicine to Galen’, ANRW II 37.1 Berlin-New York [NY]: 3-48.

van Straten, F.T. 1981, ‘Gifts for the Gods’ in Versnel, H.S. ed., 1981, in Faith, Hope and Worship. Aspects of Religious Mentality in the Ancient World Leiden: 65-151. Tabanelli, M. 1962, Gli ex-voto poliviscerali etruschi e romani Florence. Turfa, J.M. 2004, ‘Anatomical votives’, in Thesaurus Cultus et Rituum Antiquorum Los Angeles [CA] vol. 1: 359– 68. Turfa, J.M. 1994, ‘Anatomical votives and Italian medical traditions’, in de Puma, R.D. & Small, J.P. (eds), Murlo and the Etruscans Madison [WI]: 224-240.

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Wine and Blood? Dionysus, Other Gods and Heroes in a Catholic Chapel of Britiande (Lamego, Portugal) Nuno Resende1 Introduction1

Considering the work of Sir John Boardman on Dionysian iconography (BOARDMAN, 2014), I decided to return to the chapel of St. Sebastian to explore the iconographic program and its relation to the history of the building, its devotees and patrons.

In 2006, during the inventory of the religious heritage in the parishes of Lamego, I identified in a chapel of Britiande – a Portuguese parish located on the south bank of the river Douro – a set of iconographic elements regarding classical mythology, namely on the life of Dionysus or Bacchus (Figure 1).

Britiande Britiande is a parish located south of the town of Lamego within the limits of its municipality and diocese, on the south bank of the river Douro, in northern Portugal.

The name of the chapel, dedicated to St. Sebastian, one of the main martyrs of the Catholic devotions did not seem to be in keeping with the iconography in the work of the ceiling panels above the presbytery and the nave (Figure 2).

The chapel of St. Sebastian is located near kilometre 17 of national road number 226, and at an altitude of 570 meters on the outskirts of Britiande, facing a pathway that links the parish church to the old village. This position is clearly displayed on 18th century maps that show the projection of the road between Britiande, Lamego and the river Douro banks.

In fact, the use of ceilings of chapels and churches as a religious, devotional and more often hagiographic showcase is frequent but, from the examples I know of in the region, none depicts mythological programs (FRIAS, RESENDE, 2006 and RESENDE, 2014).

Built on the periphery of the medieval burg, the chapel stands out in the territory for its size, faced only by the ‘Casa de Santo António’ to the south and by some recent constructions to the east and west that visually have hidden it from Britiande (Figure 3).

A brief and for me insufficient study was then prepared by a local researcher (FRIAS, 2006), within the scope of publishing the first results of my iconographic analysis in the book edited by the inventory project organization (RESENDE, 2006).

Figure 1. Dionysus or Bacchus over a barrel? 1 

U. Porto - CITCEM

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Figure 2. Ceiling panels of Saint Sebastian chapel.

Figure 3. Location of the Saint Sebastian chapel. In 1758 it is referred to as one of the public chapels, and, although a local tradition indicates its construction during the reign of king Sebastian of Portugal (1557-1578) due to the popularity of the cult of his homonymous saint, its establishment suggests that it was built to prevent the

entrance of the plague to the village.2 In fact, in the region many of the chapels devoted to St. Sebastian are located near the roads on the periphery of communities, as this Christian martyr is frequently invoked for protection against plagues (RESENDE, 2012). ANTT [National Archives of Portugal], Memórias paroquiais, vol. 7, nº 75, p. 1253 to 1256. 2 

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The Iconographic Program The title of this presentation explores an eventual relationship between the patron St. Sebastian, whose blood was celebrated as a testimony of faith, and Bacchus, to whom the gift of wine is attributed – today one of the dominant agricultural elements in the region where the chapel is located. As I said above, this hypothesis had already been explored in 2006 by the researcher Duarte Frias (FRIAS, 2006). Blood and wine, of course, are closely linked to the very idea of the Catholic Eucharist. However, as I was questioning the iconographic program and proposing new opportunities for research on the origin of the artistic work and the reason for its being presented in a community chapel, I thought it would be necessary to articulate the latest information about the individuals and institutions related to it, and to propose a new interpretation of the iconographic program.

Diagrams. 1–2 – Scheme of the distribution of ceiling panels.

The formal characteristics of the ornamentation associated with the pictorial grid of the panels’documentation date its production to a period associated with the introduction and expansion of rococo in Portugal (second half of the 18th century) (BORGES, 1986).3 In fact, despite the meticulous research that I carried out in the principal local, regional and national archives, it was not possible to obtain documentary references, either to its construction or to the date which I mentioned as associated with the production of the pictorial work. There is only a brief reference to an amount of money donated in 1744 by a local nobleman to the vicar Diogo dos Anjos Lobo that may refer to an offer of works to the chapel (COSTA, 1992: 76). Thus the work of the painted panels constitutes our primary source that I will now analyze. The Chapel and its Ceilings The chapel of St. Sebastian is made up of two rooms juxtaposed in a longitudinal direction. In each room, the ceiling is decorated with work called ‘artesoado’ – ceiling panels enclosed by wooden frames – containing, in the case of the presbytery, 15 panels and in the nave 42 panels (Diagrams 1-2). The pictorial work of the presbytery is similar, in the drawing and motifs, to the work of the nave. However, the two works show different chromatic palettes. This could mean that they were the work of different artists and/or that the paintings were executed at different times. Not all panels feature figurative scenes. In fact, the majority (35) consist of a grammar of rococo content (Figures 12–13), composed of shells, scrolls and vegetal elements, architectural elements (such as cornices, pilasters, quarters) and stylized allusions to cornucopias, garlands and vases with flowers. Although not up to date, this work directed by N. Correia Borges is still one of the main references in rococo studies in Portugal, concerning sculpture, paintings and other decorative arts. The research into this style/period is frankly underrated in Portuguese history of art. 3 

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Figure 4. Hercules and Cerberus.

Figure 5. Perseus with the head of Medusa.

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Figure 6. The Infant Hercules strangling serpents in his cradle. Forests, fountains and ruins make up the most frequent scenarios. In only 22 panels is there human representation, with the nave standing out (with 21 panels) as the area where they are most frequently represented (Diagram 2).

mythological themes. In fact, at least six of the paintings can be described as gallant or bucolic scenes, to which elements regarding the Arcadian Garden are associated, like fountains or statues, circus acts and even references to Commedia dell’Arte (Figure 12).

In these panels, I have identified clearly mythological iconographies, such as that of Bacchus sitting on a barrel (Nave B1), which, as I said, stimulated my interest in the study of this program.

The fact that, in the iconographic program, the figures of Cadmus, Hercules and Dionysus are particularly visible – figures whose lives and heroic deeds have been abundantly reproduced in European art since the Renaissance – may point us toward a literary source used by Renaissance and Baroque artists: Ovid’s Metamorphoses.4 This work written in the first century A.D. became, in modern times, one of the main literary sources for the interpretation and reinterpretation of iconographic mythology intended for the preparation of pictorial and sculptural works.

From the 21 representations of the nave that present human figures I propose the identification of the following: Dionysus sitting on a barrel (B1) – figure 1 Hercules and Cerberus (B3) – figure 4 Perseus with the head of Medusa (C4) – figure 5

As a literary work with a strong emphasis on allegories, metaphors and other rhetorical devices, the Metamorphoses soon became an important source of iconography, especially through the engravings that were produced, firstly associated with the first printings, and then as circulating engravings used by painters, sculptors and other artists.

The Infant Hercules strangling serpents in his cradle (C6) – figure 6 Bellerophon mounted on Pegasus slaying the Chimera (E5) – figure 7 Cadmus slaying the dragon (F3) – figure 8 Cadmus guided by the cow to Beocia (F4) – figure 9

Both in the mythological figures and in the ornaments, I can indicate some engravings that may have served as sources for the painter or painters of these paintings in the

Hercules (one of his labours?) or Boreas? (G3) – figure 10 Cadmus addresses the oracle of Delphi (C2) – figure 11 For eleven paintings, I was unable to obtain any identification, because not all of them are clearly associated with

I used a recent Portuguese edition of Metamorphoses: cf. OVÍDIO, N. & ALBERTO, 2004. 4 

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Figure 7. Bellerophon mounted on Pegasus slaying the Chimera

Figure 8. Cadmus slaying the dragon

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Figure 9. Cadmus guided by the cow to Beocia

Figure 10. Hercules (one of his labours?) or Boreas?

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Figure 11. Cadmus addresses the oracle of Delphi Britiande chapel, namely those by Antonio Tempesta (1555– 1630) and Hendrik Goltzius (1558–1617), who contributed to the diffusion of mythological themes in European baroque painting with their drawings; or even Martin Engelbrecht (1684–1756), Pierre-Edmé Babel (1720–1775), Franz Xaver Habermann (1721–1796), Mathias Lock (figure 13) and JeanBaptiste Pillement, who were the creators of the fantastical rocailles frames – some reproduced in the St. Sebastian chapel.

Considering the extraordinary number of accounts regarding local noble families –which constitutes one of the main topics of local and regional historiography – and the direct relation to the bishop and city of Lamego (an important artistic center at the end of the 18th century) perhaps the pictorial work on the ceilings of St. Sebastian’s chapel was due to the intervention of a local nobleman or his family. What was the intention?

Because it constitutes a set of dramatic narratives about power and transformation, which emulated the quality of classical entities – many suggesting a double interpretation between mythological gods and Christian entities – Metamorphoses is one of the main inspirations of 18th century artistic creation. And at the end of this century, as art moves toward a classic revival, some of its narratives are interpreted according to an ideal model of a lost past, an Eden to which one must return.5

Conclusion Confirming this hypothesis, we would then have, in the chapel of St. Sebastian of Britiande, an erudite iconographic program, certainly due to local aristocrats with access to such literary knowledge, which was common and circulating throughout the 18th century in Portugal.

Naturally access to the Metamorphoses, and its interpretation, must be understood within a small circle of individuals with the knowledge to ‘read’ and disseminate those kinds of allegories (CORREIA, 2001). Hence my initial concern and question about the presence of such an erudite program in a public chapel, for which the conservation was the responsibility of the people in the community.

And although the program does not enlighten us about a possible allegorical and syncretic interpretation of the themes, by relating them to the hagiography of St. Sebastian (despite his military and warrior profile, with the classical heroes represented), I cannot fail to emphasize the hedonistic nature of these scenes that express a taste for bucolic landscapes and evoke, with its heroic scenes, the desire for a return to an ideal past.

Metamorphoses were translated into Portuguese in 1797 by an Arcadian Portuguese author, called Bocage (Manuel Maria Barbosa du Bocage, 1765-1805).

In fact, in 1765, around the same period the pictures were probably executed, a local nobleman called José Pereira de Sá wrote a laudatory work on the history and genealogy of

5 

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Figure 12. Gallant or bucolic scenes

Figure 13. Ornaments: comparison with engraving of Mathias Lock (1740-1769). Col. Cooper Hewitt ©. regional lineages.6 Here he starts to claim a classical origin for Britiande:

Santo Domingo da Queimada, a suburb of the town of Lamego, a league away […]’.7

‘This place had its first houses around 360 before the birth of Christ; although at the time was not a continuously habited settlement it was a recreational site for the Greeks, who founded a large settlement on the plain of

BPMP, Reservados, ms. 1335, Parte II, fl. 3. In Portuguese: ‘Teve este povo a primeira abitação pelos anos de 360 antes do nascimento de Cristo; porque suposto não fosse nesse tempo Povoação continuamente abitada, hera sim sitio de recreio dos Gregos, que fundarão huam grande povoação na planicia de São Domingo da Queimada, seburbio da cidade de Lamego distante huma Legoa […]’. 7 

BPMP [Biblioteca Pública Municipal do Porto], reservados, ms. [manuscript] 1335. 6 

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And then he remarks on the situation of the village, on a ‘plain and pleasant, very healthy and abundant of all the fruits’, with its farms that surround Britiande and where local people went to visite in ‘delightful walks’.8

Díez Platas, F. and Monterroso Montero, J.M. 1998. ‘Mitologia para poderosos: las Metamorfosis de Ovidio. Tres ediciones ilustradas del siglo XVI en la Biblioteca Xeral de Santiago.’ SEMATA 10: 451-472. Fernandes, A. d. A. 1957. ‘Terra dos oito morgados - Britiande.’ Douro-Litoral (5-6): 533-546. Fernandes, A. d. A. 1997. A História de Britiande. Braga, Câmara Municipal de Lamego / Junta de Freguesia de Britiande. Frias, D. 2006. Pintura de caixotão da ermida de São Sebastião de Britiande. O Compasso da Terra. N. Resende. Lamego, Diocese. 1: 178-179. Naso, O. and Alberto, P.F. trad. 2004. Metamorfoses. Lisboa, Livros Cotovia. Resende, N., coord. 2006. O Compasso da terra. Lamego, Diocese. Resende, N. 2012. Fervor & Devoção: Património, culto e espiritualidade nas ermidas de Montemuro (séculos XVI a XVIII). Dissertação de Doutoramento em História de Arte Portuguesa, Universidade do Porto. Resende, N. 2014. A igreja de Santa Maria Madalena de Mós. Lamego, Diocese de Lamego e Paróquia de Santo António de Ferreirim.

Perhaps the work of the ceilings of the chapel of St. Sebastian is a reflection or a display of the place where this small shrine is located: bucolic surroundings of the city of Lamego, with its farms, pastures and green slopes – a locus amoenus, like the Boeotia of Cadmus. Bibliography Borges, N. C., dir. 1986. História da Arte em Portugal: Do barroco ao rococó. Lisboa, Publicações Alfa. Boardman, J. 2014. The Triumph of Dionysus: convivial processions, from antiquity to the present day, Archeopress. Correia, A. P. R. 2001. Questões de iconografia e fontes de inspiração: as Metamorfoses de Ovídio e a Eneida de Virgilio. Barroco: Actas do II Congresso Internacional. Porto: 81-86. Costa, M. G. d. 1992. História da Cidade e Bispado de Lamego. Lamego, [Diocese de Lamego].

BPMP, Reservados, ms. 1335, Parte II, fl. 17-18. In Portuguese: ‘planície vistosa e amena, muito saudável e abondante de todos os frutos’. 8 

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Pavlovsk Imperial Villa and its Collections: From the First Stage of Antiquities Collecting and Archaeology in Russia Anastasia Bukina and Anna Petrakova The paper deals with the collection of the Empress Maria Fyodorovna (1759-1828), the spouse of Pavel Petrovich, who reigned from 1796 to 1801 as Paul the 1st. The collection is now in the Pavlovsk State Museum-Reserve near St. Petersburg, located in the picturesque valley of the river Slavyanka. The land was presented in 1777 to the Gran Duke Paul by his mother (Empress Catherine the Great) to celebrate the birth of her first grandson – the heir of throne and the future Emperor Alexander the 1st. The Court architect Charles Cameron designed an English park and pavilions, romantic ruins and a palace in a shape of an elegant Palladian mansion to which later wings were added.1 Due to its beauty and history the Pavlovsk ensemble is now an object of the UNESCO World Heritage.

adorned with flowers,6 but also with a roman triumph arch from the excavations of Gallo-roman Epomanduodurum – modern Mandeur – situated near Étupes.7 Thus, no wonder Maria, in addition to her passion to botanic,8 had great interest to classical antiquities as well as arts and crafts (she was drawing, carving wood and ivory and even making cameos)9, which she successfully combined with the role of an exemplary wife and mother of ten children. It is necessary to note, that Maria Fyodorovna was not the first member of the Russian ruling family, who collected classical antiquities. Already Peter the 1st started to purchase sculptures; later Catherine the 2nd went on with sculptures, but was especially fond of gems.10 These objects are doubtless examples of fine arts. But nobody of the Russian ruling family before Maria Fyodorovna owned really variable things (like bronze stamps or handles of trade amphorae), not treated before as collectability in Russia.11

The family of Pavel Petrovich and Maria Fyodorovna grew and in 1783 Pavel Petrovich received from his mother Gatchina, where he had a park with a palace and pavilions. He made Gatchina his residence, while Pavlovsk became dacha of his wife Maria Fyodorovna. She arranged it according to her taste, as well as the collection of antiquities, which is still stored there. The park with many neoclassic pavilions reminds us the atmosphere in which Maria was brought up.

Of course, like her predecessors Maria Fyodorovna owned marble sculptures. Some of them were moved to the Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg in late 1910-s – early 1920s.12 Others are still on their original places, demonstrating the atmosphere of the halls of classical antiquities, like it was in the 18th century – in the Knights Room (or the Anti-Chapel Gallery) (Figure 1), the Dressing Room of Pavel Petrovich (Figure 2), the Italian Hall and others; moreover, walls of some state apartments were adorned with roman reliefs in late 1790s.13 Part of the marble Pavlovsk sculptures was from the famous Lyde Brown collection, purchased by Catherine the 2nd and transferred to Pavlovsk after 1796 when Paul succeeded his mother as Emperor. Among them such remarkable pieces as ‘Eros drawing a bow’ (still standing on its historical place in the Italian Hall) (Figure 3) and ‘Bust of Emperor Lucius Verus’ (now standing in the Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg) (Figure 4 ).14 The other part – including a ‘Statue of Faustina as Venus’, a sculpture of type ‘Venus Capitoline’ and ‘Venus with a shell’ – was brought from Rome, where Maria Fyodorovna (accompanied by Pavel Petrovich) visited an antiquarian Thomas Jenkins in 1782.15 As we know after their diary and letters, Maria and Pavel visited many workshops of artists and antique shops, just amusing themselves or buying artworks and antiquities.16 To the mentioned sculptures we should add a collection of forty three Roman urns (Figure 5) (they are

Indeed, before she married the heir of Russian throne, she was Sophia Marie Dorothea Augusta Luisa von Württemberg, a princess, who spent childhood in the castle at Montbéliard in Alsace.2 Being brought up in atmosphere of sentimentalism and Rousseau’s virtues, she had (in addition to botanic and other ‘practical’ disciplines) also courses on ancient history3 and mythology, she even wrote in 1772 – 1773 ‘historical essays ‘About Seven Ancient Wonders of the World’, ‘Portraits of famous men’…’.4 Later, as Russian Empress-consort she became the founder of thoroughly developed programs of education for women from different classes of society. She believed that ‘to get … the pleasing for the society skills… is essential for the education of a noble maiden’, so the educational programs for noblewomen (composed for the institutes she conducted) included ancient history and geography, mythology and different arts, but these disciplines missed in the programs for lower classes of society, because the representatives of them did not need in their education ‘the things inclined to the shining only’.5 Antiquities surrounded Maria since her childhood. The garden in Étupes – the family’s summer residence – was decorated not only with neoclassic temple of Flora with a sculpture of the goddess which Maria together with Baroness D’Oberkirch

See: Mémoires 1853: I, 43. See: Bouchey 1862; Wittig 1994: 713 – 730. 8  See: Semevski 1877: 32. 9  See: Shumigorsky 1892, vol. I: 49. 10  See: Androsov 2013. 11  See further: Bukina et alli 2013: 10-12. 12  See: Korolev, Kuchumov 1987; Davidova 2012. 13  See further for all these sculptures and relieves: Korolev 2007. 14  inv. A.859, GR-9191 (published: Vostchinina 1974: cat. 48). 15  See: Bazhenova 2017. 16  See: Stadnichuk 2003; Androsov 2011: 214-231. 6  7 

See: Shtorkh 1843; Semevsky 1777-1877. See: Merkle 1896. 3  Shumigorsky 1892, Vol. I: 37. 4  Shumigorsky 1892, Vol. I: 57. 5  See: Likhacheva 1893: 9 and 25. 1  2 

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Figure 1. Knight Room (Anti-Chapel gallery), photo © Pavlovsk State Museum-Reserve. Figure 2. Sculpture ‘Eros drawing a bow’ (marble) in the Italian Hall, photo © Pavlovsk State Museum-Reserve.

still in Pavlovsk), some of them largely restored by the roman workshop of Giovanni-Battista Piranesi and two sarcophagi (unfortunately lost during World War the 2nd).17 During their ‘Grand Tour’ Maria and Pavel (under the names of ‘Count and Countess of the North’) visited Vienna, Venetia, Bologna, Rome, Naples, Florence, Milano, Turin, Lion, Paris, Brussels, Amsterdam, Étupes (where Maria Fyodorovna was brought up), Lausanne, Basel and many other places,18 and participated in different activities.19 They brought to Russia paintings, furniture and a collection of antiquities, which included mentioned above marbles as well as bronze sculptures, weights and stamps, a glass vessel and one of the earliest in Northern Europe collection of Greek and Italiote pottery (almost forty items).20 See: Solovyova 2012. Nachertanie 1783. 19  See: Shumigorsky 1892, vol. I: 184-186. Bukina, Petrakova 2012: 106–107. 20  Three vases from the Maria Fyodorovna’s collection are not in Pavlovsk any more. They were transferred to the State Hermitage Museum in St Petersburg in 1920s and one of those was moved again in 1949, to the Odessa Museum of Western and Oriental Art in Ukraine. See: Bukina, Petrakova 2012. 17  18 

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Figure 3. Roman sculpture ‘Resting Satyr’ (marble) from the Lyde Brown collection in the Dressing Room of Pavel Petrovich, photo © Pavlovsk State Museum-Reserve. Duchess Maria,21 while others state they were presented by the King of Naples.22 It is not such a great contradiction as far as the items presented by the King who welcomed the ‘Count and Countess of the North’ in Naples could be demonstratively excavated in presence of Maria and Pavel for their entertainment. We know nothing concerning the provenance of most bronzes and other small antiquities brought from this travel.23 Bronze statuettes of dancing Lares24 and Mercury25 of the 1st-2nd century AD, decorative furniture- or vessels-attachments and a weight shaped as mouse eating a fruit26 were too widespread all over the Roman territory in antiquity. These items could be bought by the Count and Countess of the North in many places, where the market of antiquities existed at that time, as far as we know they visited several such places. Also it is hard to trace provenance of a Late Hellenistic statuette of Negro boy,27 which we can date within the period from the 1st century BC to the 1st century AD,28 and of a glass urn with a cover, which belongs to the type, which archaeologists find in necropolises in Italy and South France; as a rule the glass of Meyer 1829: 209. Shtorkh 1843: 16-18. 23  See further on them a special study: Bukina 2017. 24  The bigger one: cf. Lare from Ostia, now in the Vatican Museums, see: Boucher, Tassinari 1976: Vol. 1, Cat. 90. The smaller one: Bukina 2017: fig. 4; cf. Baltimore, Museum of John Hopkins University, inv. JHUAM 416 (from Capua); DAI Filmnummern: 1880_B02, 1880_B05 (from Avellino, Potenza, Basilicata); Pitts 1979: cat. 87 (from Essex). 25  Cf.: Kaufmann-Heinimann 1998: 228; Babelon, Blanchet 1895: cat. 338. 26  See discussion on the type: Jackson 2014: 217–231. 27  Bukina 2017: fig. 4. 28  Barr-Sharrar 1990: 224–227. 21  22 

Figure 4. Bust of Emperor Lucius Verus (marble), once in Pavlovsk, photo © The State Hermitage Museum. Some scholars say these antiquities were excavated in Herculaneum and Pompeii right in presence of the Grand

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Figure 5. Roman urn (marble) in the Knight Room (Anti-Chapel gallery), photo © Pavlovsk State Museum-Reserve.

Figure 6. Campanian red-figure lebes, photo © Pavlovsk State Museum-Reserve.

such urns has similar pale-azure color or they are colorlesstransparent.29

AD, very close to the one in the British Museum acquired from the collection of William Hamilton, and thus, quite possible brought from Napoli.36 Also the fragmented violin-shaped fibula (of a type ascribed in Italy mainly to Campanian and Apulian sites), which was adorned with a pair of big spirals – as we see on the analogy in the British Museum.37 The weight and the fibula were apparently purchased in Naples; as for one of the bronze seals from the Pavlovsk State Museum Reserve, we are just absolutely sure in its Neapolitan origin, because it bears a name of an inhabitant of Pompeii: ‘Signaculum of Rufus,[slave] of M Epidius, [son?] of M’ (reading by Dr. Giovanna Cicala).38 This signaculum perhaps is the first Pompean antiquity, ever brought to Russia. These three items demonstrate us that the bronze part of the collection could be formed in Naples. There were thousands of ancient artifacts extracted from the soil of Campania in hands of Neapolitan merchants to the time of the travel of Pavel Petrovich and Maria Fyodorovna. Thus, three mentioned items were, apparently, purchased (or received as a gift) in Naples: their

On the other hand some bronzes perhaps were purchased from dealers in Italy (in Naples, Rome, Florence or elsewhere). This group includes several warfare pieces like early Italian sword, which can be dated end of the 2nd – beginning of the 1st millennium BC30 and Villanovan spear-heads dated between the 10th and the 8th century BC31 as well as wellpreserved Villanovan fibula32 and fragmented Etruscan33 one. Noteworthy is also an Etruscan bronze colum of the first quarter of the 5th century BC with engraved winged male demon.34 However several pieces are clearly connected to Campania and South Italy, like the statera-weight shaped as a head of auriga (Figure 6 ),35 probably of the first half of the 1st century See: Nenna, Arveiller-Dulong 2005: 272–275. Bukina 2017: fig. 1; cf. Bietti Sestieri, Macnamara 2007. P. 21–22, 82, 104. 31  Larger spear-head – cf.: Jurgeit 1999: Kat. 202 (dated the 9th century BC, with provenance ‘Etruria and Campania’); Bietti Sestieri, Macnamara 2007: cat. 392 (from Campania). Small spear-head – cf.: Bietti Sestieri, Macnamara 2007: 23, 123–124. 32  Bukina 2017: fig. 2. 33  Cf.: Naso A. et al. 2003: 228; Кat. 385-387. 34  Bukina 2017: 60-62, fig. 3; cf. Jurgeit 1999: 455. 35  It maybe doesn’t look like a statera-weight on the photo, but it is 29  30 

because the ring for suspension was drilled out and the surface largely cleaned in modern time. 36  The British Museum, inv. Nº 1975,0805.21. 37  Bietti Sestieri, Macnamara 2007: 193; See also: Lo Schiavo 2010: cat. 619-621. 38  See: Bukina 2017: 71.

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Figure 7. Roman weight shaped as a head of Auriga (bronze), photo © Pavlovsk State Museum-Reserve. typology and the data of modern archaeological statistics prove it.

d’Oberkirch witnesses, was shocked by their relaxed behavior in the carriage: ‘the grandduke… kissed the grand-duchess; this put the poor baronet quite out of countenance, who, affecting to look at the scenery, put his head out of the window’.45

We suspect Neapolitan origin for main part of the collection of vases of the Count and Countess of the North. At least three of them we have recognized among the vases in the collection of a Neapoletan nobleman Felice Maria Mastrilli,39 who died not later than 1755, so they were excavated in the first half of the 18th century – we have recognized them in the handwritten catalogue of the Mastrilli collection.40 Two vases are still in Pavlovsk, but one is now in Odessa, where it was transferred in the 20th century.41

The content of the pottery collection is one more argument for the Neapolitan provenance. Campanian red- and blackfigure vases form its main part, among them: two black-figure amphorae of the 5th century BC connected to the Group of Diphros,46 red-figure lekythoi47 and lebetes (Figure 7)48 of the 4th century BC, connected to the Cassandra-Parrish workshop and a fish-plate of the 4th century BC, which can be connected to the Robinson Group, especially to the Palmer-Scallop Painter.49 There are also some Apulian vases, like the pelike of the 4th century BC covered with overpaint by Mastrilli,50 and several Athenian vases, latter mainly of small size and with modest decoration, like red-figure squate lekythoi (with a palmette, with a head) or black-figure lekythoi decorated with palmette-chain or ivy-wreath. Also two late Hellinistic terracotta unguentaria dated from the late 1st century BC to

We have found Mastrilli vases also in the Hermitage Museum and in the Russian National Library,42 all in all ten items – slightly less than it is now known in London (thanks to Hamilton), but much more than in Paris, Kassel, Stockholm or Toronto.43 At least two persons, who welcomed Maria Fyodorovna and Pavel Petrovich in the Neapolitan Kingdom, had Mastrilli vases – the Neapolitan King and William Hamilton.44 The latter even accompanied the couple to the excavations in Pompei and, as the memoirs of Baroness

Mémoires 1853: I, 325-326. See further: Bukina, Petrakova 2012; Bukina et alli 2013: 10-12; Petrakova 2017. 46  Catalogue 2016: cat. 96-97; cf. Falcone, Ibelli 2007: 79. 47  Catalogue 2016: cat. 92-93. 48  Catalogue 2016: cat. 90-91. 49  Bukina, Petrakova 2012 : 118 (picture). 50  Catalogue 2016: cat. 95. 45 

See further on him: Lyons 1992; Masci 2003; Masci 2006. 40  See: Petrakova 2014; Petrakova 2015; Petrakova 2017. 41  Petrakova 2017: 49-51, fig. 1-3. 42  Petrakova 2017: 57-58, fig. 6. 43  See: Petrakova 2017. 44  See: Lyons 1992; Masci 2006. 39 

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the middle of the 1st century AD51 and also Roman lamps of the Imperial period. One of the very interesting pottery items is a Paestan kantharos (Figure 8), which we date 360340 BC and attribute to the Sydney Painter – it has absolutely identical drawing of female figures, features, dresses with folds, ornaments.52 It is a rare sample of a Paestan vase decorated with applied red in whole Russia. Not less interesting is a hydria (Figure 9),53 which is covered with overpaint, especially visible on Silen, who has short trousers and T-short – this overpaint is clearly visible both on the vase and on its drawing in the handwritten catalogue of the Mastrilli collection.54 Even though we have enough original painting for to state that it is a Paestan hydria, stylistically connected to the Asteas and Python followers. We see similarity in drawing of Silen’s body on the vases attributed to the Painter of Louvre K 236,55 like satyr on calyx-krater from Melbourne.56 Folds and pattern on maenad’s dress and the owl are similar on the hydria, attributed to the Painter of Paestum 5397,57 placed by Arthur Dale Trendall ‘in the workshop of Asteas and Pithon, as closely related to the former’.58

Figure 8. Paestan kantharos with applied red decoration, photo © Pavlovsk State Museum-Reserve.

Mastrilli wrote that he didn’t want people become ashamed, observing naked figures on his vases exposed in the ‘Museo Mastrilliano’ in Naples, so he ‘dressed’ them with means of overpaint.59 William Hamilton, who owned dozens of Mastrilli vases, described how his ‘sponge washed off the shorts added with a pen and ink to the figure of Silenus’60 on a vase in his possession – the same was later performed in many museums, which got parts of the Mastrilli collection, so the hydria in Odessa is one of just several exceptionally rare examples with the survived overpaint. Together with the classical antiquities Maria Fyodorovna and Pavel Petrovich brought to Russia the first known for us Egyptian object in Russia, where Egyptian and Egyptizing objects started to become fashionable in this period – an example is the decoration of the main entrance to the Pavlovsk palace and many objects there. This object 51 

23.

Cf. Trendall 1987: pl. 238e (Lebes gamikos, Paestum 48457), 238f (skythos, Vienna 251), etc. 53  [Nikiforov, V.S.] 2000: 26 no. 22. 54  Petrakova 2017: 49-51, fig. 3. 55  Trendall 1987: 34-37. 56  Trendall 1987: pl. 7b. 57  Trendall 1987: pl. 130a-c. 58  Trendall 1987: 186. 59  Mastrilli wrote that there was retouching only on several (what is not true, actually it was on many) vases demonstrating ‘tale immodestia che no’ conveniva tenersi particolarmente in una galleria esposta alli sguardi di persone di ogni sesso e di persone no’ tutte sagg’. See further: Lyons 1992: 12; Masci 2003: 196. 60  See: Lyons 1992: 11. 52 

Figure 9. Paestan red-figure hydria with modern overpaint, photo © Odessa Museum of Western and Eastern Art.

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was a shabty, which has been studied by Professor Andrey Bolshakov from the State Hermitage Museum together with Jean-Luc Chappaz from Musée du Louvre. They attested it like either an Egyptian piece made in period from the 26th to the 30th dynasties, or an imitation of the 18th century, what could be extraordinary rare.61 Being brought to Pavlovsk the antiquities from Italy were exposed in a kind of a small museum, located in a pavilion called ‘Aviary’ or ‘Volière’. The performed in 1790 description62 allows us to imagine one of the very first private museum of antiquities in Russia, where painted vases and other domestic and funeral items of ancient Mediterranean were exhibited. There were four showcases – cupboards made of mahogany with ‘clear’ (supposedly glazed) doors and four shelves each; cupboards were adorned with upper plate of white marble. Vases, bronzes and some gems were exhibited there; it was ornate by color-stone decorative vessels; in the next room to the Museum there were blossoming plants, singing birds and a sculpture of Flora, like in Étupes. The second part of the Maria Fyodorovna’s collection of antiquities has provenance from the earliest excavations in South Russia,63 which took place at the end of the 18th – beginning of the 19th century, when they became more systematic and scientific. In this period the location of many Greek settlements on the territory of the Northern Black Sea area was performed and the first local museums were established.64 Between 1818 and 1822 a set of antiquities from South Russia was presented to Maria Fyodorovna, widow Mother Empress, by Ivan Blaramberg, one of the fathers of ceramic epigraphy who made excavations and acquired antiquities at the site of ancient Olbia.65 The number 1822 is defined by the publication of Köppen, where he mentions antiquities with inscriptions in Pavlovsk (only antiquities from Blaramberg in the collection of Maria Fyodorovna were with inscriptions).66 The number 1818 is defined by two manuscripts in French, stored now in the Archive of the State Hermitage Museum, apparently written by Blaramberg.67 In these documents we recognize different fragmented small pieces, stored now in Pavlowsk. For instance a fragment of a marble figurine, a ‘small head of a woman, apparently of a goddess, found in Olbia’; we date it from the 4th to the 3rd century BC.68 Two fragments of marble inscriptions.69 Also the ‘lead head of a bull, flat from the other side, which was an element of decoration of a piece of furniture or a tool, found in Olbia’ (Figure 10), which should be Hellenistic votive plaquette70 related to the 3rd group of Olbian votive bukrania according to the classification by Kapitolina Zaitseva.71 Then go ‘eight packs, containing Greek medals, mostly from town Olbia, all badly preserved.

Figure 10. Olbian Hellenistic bukranion (lead), photo © Pavlovsk State Museum-Reserve. And the 9th pack, containing two arrowheads, some bronze fragments and small pieces of glass’. We don’t know anything concerning the present location of the ‘medals’ (perhaps actually coins), but we can identify two arrowheads72 and two glass tesserae,73 as well as a ‘fragment of a terracota vase’ – apparently a fragment of rim of the Sinopa louterion of the 4th – 3rd century BC.74 Members of Russian ruling family did not collect such ancient debris at the beginning of the 19th century! What is the most interesting fact, these items were exhibited in the Pavlovsk Palace in the 19th century together with the Greek vases and Roman bronzes and sculptures, so they were treated as precious objects, even though their preciousness was more historical, than visual. Blaramberg took care of better explanation for the Mother Empress of one kind of Olbian antiquities very new for the collectors in the early 19th century. These were 35 stamped amphorae-handles (only 16 are still in Pavlovsk, almost all of them are Rodian, well-known in our days stamps)75. He wrote for her special ‘Memoire’ on ‘all these handles belonged to amphorae, meant to be wine-storage. Peasants collect them… because of inscriptions and sell them to the curious people… ’.76 This text was actually the very first theoretical treatise

See: Catalogue 2016: 162-163, cat. 100. Opis’ 1790. 63  See further: Bukina, Petrakova forthcoming. 64  See: Tunkina 2002. 65  See: Zelenetskij 1848; Katz, Tunkina 1990; Tunkina 2001. 66  Köppen 1822: Nr XX, S. 2–3. 67  [Blaramberg, I. P.], [before 1818 ?]; [Blaramberg, I. P.], [1818 (?)]. See further: Bukina, Petrakova forthcoming. 68  Catalogue 2016: cat. 118. 69  Catalogue 2016: cat. 116-117. 70  Catalogue 2016: cat. 119. 71  See: Zaitseva 1971. 61  62 

Catalogue 2016: cat. 120. Catalogue 2016: cat. 121. 74  Catalogue 2016: cat. 115. 75  ΑΡΙΣ[ΤΙ]ΩΝΩΣ (ca 200s – 190s BC); ΕΠΙ ΙΕΡΈΩΣ ΣΩΣΤΡΆΤΟΥ (ca 190s BC); ΔΑΜΟΚΡΑΤΕΥΣ (Damokrates I, ca 200s–160s BC); ΆΡΙΣΤΟΚΡΆΤΕΥΣ (ca 180s BC); ΜΑΡΣΥΑ (ca 180s–140s BC). 76  [Blaramberg, I. P.] [1818 (?)]: 4v. 72  73 

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Figure 11. Two Attic pelikai from grave excavated in near Kerch, photo © Pavlovsk State Museum-Reserve. on ceramic epigraphy. He drew an amphora77 and even made translations from Greek to French, interpreting the stamps like ‘Marsyas Daliu – made by Marsyas, son of Dalion’.78

by Stoddart in his ‘Essay on ceramic epigraphy’, given as a paper in 1849 in the Royal Society of Literature in London.83 In Russia the first detailed description was performed in 1872 by Ludolf Stephani,84 one of the main specialists on antiquities in the 2nd half of the 19th century in Russia.85

Part of epigraphic materials of the Pavlovsk collection was published as early as in 1835 by August Böckh79 with whom Blaramberg was in correspondence. In 1844 when the Neue Jenaische Allgemeine Literatur-Zeitung introduced its readers to the description (partly incorrect in reading of Greek stamps) of 26 handles and 2 tiles ‘in the Library, which belonged to late Empress-Mother Maria in Pavlovsk, one of the Imperial summer residences near St. Petersburg’.80 More detailed publication of 1848 in French81 dealt with whole collection of antiquities in Pawlowsk including stamped pottery fragments; it was written by Eduard von Muralt, a Swiss philologist and theologist, that time a member of the stuff of the Department of Antiquities in the Imperial Hermitage. Muralt’s publication was summarized by Eduard Gerhard in Archäologische Anzeiger in 1853.82 Being published, the amphorae-handles of Maria Fyodorovna stimulated an interest of European scholars to the ceramic epigraphy. Pavlovsk materials were сonsidered

Besides Olbian finds Pavlovsk collection possesses antiquities of Kerch sent by Paul Du Brux, ‘the farther’ and ‘the pioneer’ of Bosporan archaeology.86 Two Attic red-figure pelikai (Figure 11), one alabaster and three bronze rings are documented by Du Brux in the excavations of one grave in front of a kurgan near Enikale in spring of 1817.87 It was one of the earliest documented gravecomplexes excavated near Kerch. The pelikai were located to the sides of the scull, the rings were found on the fingerbones; one of two broken alabasters was assembled by Du Brux and still bears traces of restoration performed in 1817. The pelikai could be associated with the Group of Olynthos 5.156 (a sub-group of the Group G), dated the second third of the 4th century BC (one of the key-dates is 348 BC – later people didn’t settle down on the south slope of Olynthos after

[Blaramberg, I. P.] [1818 (?)]: 10; Petrakova, Bukina 2016: 131. [Blaramberg, I. P.] [1818 (?)]: 5v. 79  CIG 1835, Vol. 2: 1000, № 2085а. 80  [Muralt, E. von ?] 1844. This publication is anonymous, but we suspect Eduard von Muralt was the author. 81  Muralt 1848. 82  Gerhard 1853. 77  78 

Stoddart 1849. [Stephani] 1872. 85  See: Bukina et alli 2013: 39-50; Petrakova forthcoming. 86  See: Tunkina 2009; Tunkina 2010. 87  See: Bukina, Petrakova 2015; Catalogue 2016: 165-171, cat. 102-105. 83  84 

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the destruction). The analogies in different museums88 are ‘said to be from Kerch’, while the provenance of the Pavlovsk pelikai was documented in the Dairy of Du Brux. He writes: ‘we have found two beautiful Etruscan or Greek vases, similar to the ones, imitating which in our days they make vases for flowers, in order to put them on our chimneys, and which, apparently were used for the same purpose in this grave’.89 On the still-lives dated from the 17th to the 19th century we really see red-figured vases and their modern imitations, serving as vessels for flowers,90 so Du Brux was absolutely upto-date in this question. In addition to the described complex, in Pavlovsk were preserved three Roman glass unguentaria of the 1st century AD and some small black-glazed and terra sigilata cups and unguentraria91 as well as three terracotta figurines92 found by Du Brux in 1817-18. Two female figurines from the environs of one grave, according to clay and analogies, should be definably Bosporan work of the end of the 4th or the 3rd century BC, apparently from a Panticapaion workshop.93 The first figurine depicts draped woman wearing a wreath of immortelle.94 Du Brux noticed perfect forms of this figurine. About the second one (of a veiled dancer) he noted that it presents ‘a female dancer in a pose, which coincides with an attitude of modern Russian dance’ (Figure 12).95 The third figurine is also a local production, but should be dated a bit later – from the end of the 2nd to the 1st century BC. Du Brux interpreted it as ‘an Amazon, leaning on a shield’ and defined it as a ‘mediocre work, although the proportions are fine’.96 It is known Bosporan type of the figurine depicting the warrior with specific ovoid shield97 apparently of a type, brought to the Northern Black Sea by Celtic tribes.98 Kerch, which was praised in the Russian society as the ‘Russian Pompeii’,99 became in the first quarter of the 19th century one of the main touristic attractions of the South Russia. We know that children of Maria Fyodorovna, young Grand Dukes100 visited that time the local archaeological sites and even communicated to Du Brux. Main part of her life their mother welcomed enlightened representatives of culture,

Figure 12. Bosporan terracotta figurine of veiled dancer, photo © Pavlovsk State Museum-Reserve. was in correspondence with writers and philosophers. And she had a collection of antiquities, as well as long-lasting and profound interest to them… No wonder Du Brux sent her a set of antiquities from excavations in Kerch as early as in 1818.

See: Bukina, Petrakova 2015. 89  Du Brux, P. 1816-1818,F. 19–21. 90  See, for example: Georgius Jacobus Johannes van Os ‘Still Life with Flowers in a Greek Vase: Allegory of Spring’, 1817 (Rijksmuseum, inv. SK-A-1105, URL: http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001. COLLECT.7156); Johan Laurentz Jensen, ‘A Still Life with Flowers in a Greek Vase’ (private collection); Carl Adolf Senff, ‘An antique terracotta vase with flowers’, 1828 (Thorvaldsen museum, inv. B.161; http://www.thorvaldsensmuseum.dk/en/collections/work/B161/ details/13738) etc. 91  Catalogue 2016: cat. 108, 112, 113. 92  See further: Catalogue 2016: 174-178, cat. 109-111. 93  See further: Kobilina 1974. 94  See: Rumscheid 2006 : 183-184. 95  Du Brux 1818b. 96  Du Brux 1818b. 97  See on the type: Pruglo 1966: 205-213. 98  Vinogradov, Goroncharovskyi 2008: 113-115. 99  Tunkina 2009: 370–371. 100  In July of 1816 it was Nicolay Pavlovitch (future Emperor Nicolas the 1st), in September of 1817 – Mikhail Pavlovich, in May of 1818 – Alexander Pavlovich, who was at that time the Emperor Alexander the 1st. See: Tunkina 2010, Vol. I: 35-38. 88 

Reading the descriptions of Pavlovsk antiquities we find some items, which are now not in the museum. Among them – marble and bronze objects, and several pieces of jewelry.101 As far as Russia survived not only the Socialistic revolution in 1917 with the following nationalization of the palaces and collections, but also heavy World War the 2nd during which Pavlovsk was occupied – we don’t know when precisely these items disappeared from the collection and where they are now. But even the described objects give us precious data concerning the earliest collection of really variable antiquities brought to Russia from Italy in the second half of the 18th century by 101 

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Maria Fyodorovna and Pavel Petrovich, the members of the Russian ruling family, and the collection of classical antiquities found during the first period of excavations in South Russia, about their perception by еру contemporaries and even allow us to reconstruct some archaeological complexes.

Bazhenova, O.K. 2017. Bili i nebilitsi o treh antichnih statuyah Veneri iz sobraniya GMZ ‘Pavlovsk’ [Truth and tales about three ancient sculptures of Venus from the collection of State Museum-Reserve ‘Pavlovsk’]. In: Kuchumovskie chteniya. Sbornik dokladov nauchnoy konferentsii. Atributsiya, istoriya i sudba predmetov iz imperatorskikh kollektsiy [Kuchumov readings. Anthology of Papers from a Scholarly Conference. Attribution, History and Fate of Items from the Imperial Collections]: 17-36. Pavlovsk, St Petersburg: Pavlovsk State Museum Reserve. Barr-Sharrar, B. 1990. How Important Is Provenance? Archaeological and Stylistic Questions in the Attribution of Ancient Bronzes. In: Small bronze sculpture from the ancient world. Ed. by True M., Podany J., Paul Getty Museum: 224–227. Malibu (CA): J. Paul Getty Museum. Bietti Sestieri, A.M. and E. Macnamara 2007. Prehistoric Metal Artefacts from Italy (3500–720 BC) in the British Museum. With a scientific report by D. Hook. British Museum Research Publication 159. London: British Museum Press. Bukina, A. 2017. Antichnie bronzi v Pavlovske [Ancient bronzes in Pavlovsk]. In: Kuchumovskie chteniya. Sbornik dokladov nauchnoy konferentsii. Atributsiya, istoriya i sudba predmetov iz imperatorskikh kollektsiy [Kuchumov readings. Anthology of Papers from a Scholarly Conference. Attribution, History and Fate of Items from the Imperial Collections]: 55-74. Pavlovsk, St Petersburg: Pavlovsk State Museum Reserve. Bukina, A. and A. Petrakova 2012. Kollektsiya antichnykh vaz imperatritsy Marii Fyodorovny s [Empress Maria Fyodorovna’s Collection of Ancient Vase], in: Kuchumov: k 100-letiyu so dnya rozhdeniya. Sbornik dokladov nauchnoy konferentsii. Atributsiya, istoriya i sudba predmetov iz imperatorskikh kollektsiy [Kuchumov: On the 100th Anniversary of his Birth. Anthology of Papers from a Scholarly Conference. Attribution, History and Fate of Items from the Imperial Collections]: 100-130. Pavlovsk, St Petersburg: Pavlovsk State Museum Reserve. Bukina, A. and A. Petrakova 2015. Dve peliki iz raskopok Dyubryuksa v kollektsii antichnikh vaz Marii Feodorovni [Two pelikae from the excavations of Dubrux in the collection of the ancient vases of Maria Fyodorovna]. In: Kuchumovskie chteniya. Sbornik dokladov nauchnoy konferentsii. Atributsiya, istoriya i sudba predmetov iz imperatorskikh kollektsiy [Kuchumov readings. Anthology of Papers from a Scholarly Conference. Attribution, History and Fate of Items from the Imperial Collections]: 55-74. Pavlovsk, St Petersburg: Pavlovsk State Museum Reserve. Bukina, A. and A. Petrakova forthcoming. Classical Antiquities from the Early Excavations at South Russia in the Collection of the Empress Maria Feodorovna . In: Proceedings of the conference SOMA 2016. Bukina, A., A. Petrakova and C. Phillips 2013. Greek Vases in the Imperial Hermitage Museum: the History of the Collection 1816–69, with Addenda et corrigenda to Ludolf Stephani, Die Vasensammlung der Kaiserlichen Ermitage (1869), Oxford: Archaeopress. Boucher, S. and S. Tassinari 1976. Bronzes antiques du Musée de la Civilisation Gallo-Romaine à Lyon. Vol. I: Inscriptions, statuaire, vaisselle. Lyon: Diffusion de Boccard. Bouchey, E.–A. 1862. Recherches historiques sur la ville, principauté et la république de Mandeure (Epomanduodurum) : Origines et histoire abrégée de l’ancien comté de Montbéliard. Besançon: Imprimerie et lithographie de J. Jacquin.

Acknowledgement We would like to express our gratitude to the Committee and all those, who prepared the conference. It was an honor for us to participate in the celebration of Sir John Boardman’s 90th birthday. This paper couldn’t appear without collaboration with Olga Bazenova – the curator of the collection of antiquities in Pavlovsk, with whom we have long-lasting collaboration since 2010. We are grateful to the Pavlovsk State Museum-Reserve for permission to publish the exhibits from its collection and to Tatyana Bikadorova of Odessa Museum of Western and Eastern Art for collaboration. Archive Documents [Blaramberg, I. P.], [1818 (?)]. Description de plusiers objects trouvés á Olbia. Archive of the State Hermitage Museum. Fund 1, Inventory VI-M. File 27-4. [Blaramberg, I. P.], [before 1818 ?] Description de quelques médailles greсques, de quelques Anses d’Amphores, briques, et fragmens de vases de terre cuite, ainsi que de 100 médailles Romaines impériales en argent trouvées dans l’enceinte de l’ancienne ville d’Olbie appartenant à Mr. Le Comte Kuschelef-Besborodko. Archive of the State Hermitage Museum. Fund 1, Inventory VI-M. File 27-3. Curiosités 1827. Curiosités modernes et antiques. Komnata antikov, chto u tserkvi [Room of antiquities near the Church]. Pavlovsk State Museum Reserve. ЦХ-1274-XIII. Du Brux, P. 1816-1818. Description de fouilles faites а quelque tumulus de Kerch. 1816-1818. The Manuscript is published in Tunkina 2010, Vol. I: 111-136. [Du Brux, P.] 1818a. [Kratkij peretchen nakhodok iz kertchenskikh kurganov, otpravlennikh imperatritze-materi v Pavlovsk okolo 2 sentjabrja 1818 goda] [A short list of finds from Kerch kurgans sent to the Mother-Empress to Pavlovsk about the 2nd of September 1818]. The Manuscript is published in Tunkina 2010, Vol. II: pl. 3 Du Brux, P. 1818b. Fouilles faites en 1818. The Manuscript is published in Tunkina 2010, Vol. I: 142-148. Opis’ 1790. Opis’ komnatnim ukrasheniyam v Voliere 1790 goda genvarya 1 dnja [Inventory of the decorations of the room in the Volier [performed] the 1st of January, 1790]. Russian State Historical Archive, St. Petersburg. Fund 493. Inventory 7. File 5. Bibliography Androsov, S.O. 2013. Ot Petra I k Ekaterine II: lyudy, statuy, kartini [From Peter the 1st to Catherine the 2nd: people, sculptures, paintings]. St. Petersburg: Dmitry Bulanin. Androsov, S.O. 2011. Skulptori i russkie kollektsioneri v Rime vo vtoroy polovine XVIII veka [Sculptors and Russian collectors in Rome in the second half of the 18th century]. St. Petersburg: Dmitry Bulanin. Babelon, E. and J.-A. Blanchet 1895. Catalogue des Bronzes Antiques de la Bibliothèque nationale. Paris : E. Leroux.

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Petrakova, A. 2017. Ancient vases from the Mastrilli collection in Russia. In: Journal of the History of Collections, vol. 29 (1): 4565. Qxford: Oxford University Press. Petrakova, A. 2014. Pelika iz kollektsii F. Mastrilli v sobranii GMZ ‘Pavlovsk’ [Pelike from the Mastrilli collection in the Pavlovsk State Museum-Reserve] in: Kuchumovskie chteniya. Anthology of Papers from a Scholarly Conference. Attribution, History and Fate of Items from the Imperial Collections [Kuchumov readings. Sbornik dokladov nauchnoy konferentsii. Atributsiya, istoriya i sudba predmetov iz imperatorskikh kollektsiy]: 228-245. Pavlovsk, St Petersburg: Pavlovsk State Museum Reserve. Petrakova, A. and A. Bukina 2016. Antichnaya kollektsiya Pavlovska i predmeti iz raskopok na yuge Rossii v sobranii imperatritsi Marii Feodorovni [Ancient collection of Pavlovsk and objects from the excavations at south of Russia in posession of Empress Maria Fyodorovna], in: Catalogue 2016. Pavlovsk, St Petersburg: Pavlovsk State Museum Reserve. Petrakova, A. forthcoming. Ludolf Stephani (1816-1887) i formirovanie traditsiy issledovaniya,eksponirovaniya, katalogizatsii, publikatsii i vedeniya uchetnoy dokumentatsii antichnikh vaz v Ermitazhe [Ludolf Stephani (1816-1887) and forming of traditions of study, exhibiting, catalogue-making, publication and accounting documentation of ancient vases in the Hermitage Museum]. In: Trudi Gosudarstvennogo Ermitazha [Papers of the State Hermitage Museum]. St. Petersburg: The State Hermitage Museum. Pitts, L. 1979. Roman bronze figurines from the Civitates of the Catuvellauni and Trinovantes. BAR British series, Vol. 60. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports Limited. Pruglo, V.I. 1966. Pozdneellinisticheskie bosporskie terrakoti, izobrazhayustchie voinov [Late hellenistic bosporan terracotae depicting warriors]. In: Kultura antichnogo mira. Sbornik nauchnikh statey [Culture of the ancient world. Collection of scientific articles]: 205-213. Moscow: Nauka. Rumscheid, F. 2006. Die figürlichen Terrakotten von Priene: Fundkontexte, Ikonographie und Funktion in Wohnhäusern und Heiligtümern im Licht antiker Parallelbefunde. Deutsches Archäologisches Institut. Wiesbaden: L. Reichert. Semevsky, M.I. 1877. Pavlovsk: Ocherk istorii i opisanie. 1777 – 1877 [Pavlovsk: Essey on the history and description. 1777-1877]. St. Petersburg: tipografiya II otdeleniya sobstvennoj E.I.V. kantseljarii [typography of the II department of the His Imperial Majesty’s Chancellery]. Shumigorsky, E. S. 1892. Imperatritsa Maria Feodorovna (1759– 1828): eya biografiya [Empress Maria Fyodorovna (1759–1828): Her Biography]. St. Petersburg: Petersburg: tipografiya II otdeleniya sobstvennoj E.I.V. kantseljarii [typography of the II department of the His Imperial Majesty’s Chancellery]. Shtorkh, P. 1843. Putevoditel po sadu i gorodu Pavlovsku, s vidami, risovannymi V. A. Zhukovskim [Guide to the Garden and Town of Pavlovsk, with Views Drawn by V. A. Zhukovsky]. St. Petersburg: izdanie litografa I. Seleznjova [typography of the lithograph I. Seleznjov]. Solovyova, L.A. 2012. Istoriya bitovaniya kollektsii drevnerimskikh nadgrobnikh pamyatnikov v Pavlovske

[History of being of the collection of ancient Roman grave monuments in Pavlovsk] in: Kuchumov: k 100-letiyu so dnya rozhdeniya. Sbornik dokladov nauchnoy konferentsii. Atributsiya, istoriya i sudba predmetov iz imperatorskikh kollektsiy [Kuchumov: On the 100th Anniversary of his Birth. Anthology of Papers from a Scholarly Conference. Attribution, History and Fate of Items from the Imperial Collections]: 280290. Pavlovsk, St Petersburg: Pavlovsk State Museum Reserve. Stadnichuk, N.I. 2003. Rimskiy zhurnal grafa i grafini Severnih [Roman diary of count and countess of Nord]. In: Pamyatniki kulturi. Novie otkritiya. Ezhegodnik 2002 [Monuments of culture. New discoveries. Annual]: 25-85. Moscow: Nauka. [Stephani, L.] 1872. Die Antiken-Sammlung zu Pawlowsk beschrieben von Ludolf Stephani. St. Petersburg: Eggers et Cie. Stoddart, J. L. 1849. On lettered vase-stamps from Greek cities of the Mediterranean and Euxine seas. In: Transactions of the Royal Society of Literature. 2nd Series. Issue iv: 1-67. Trendall, A.D. 1987. The red-figured vases of Paestum. Hertford: British School at Rome. Tunkina, I. 2001. K istorii izuchenija Olvii v pervoj treti 19 veka [To the History of Study of Olbia in the first third of the 19th century], in: Archeologija (Kiev)[ Archaeology (Kiev)], № 4. Tunkina, I. 2002. Russkaja nauka o klassicheskikh drevnostjakh juga Rossii (18 – seredina 19 veka) [Russian Science about Classical Antiquities of the South of Russia (18th – middle of the 19th century)], St. Petersburg: Nauka. Tunkina, I. 2009. Otez arkheologii Bospora Pol’ Dubrux: Novie arkhivnie materiali [The Father of the archaeology of Bosphorus Paul Dubrux: New Archive Materials], in: Vestnik istorii, literature i iskusstva [Bullutin of History, Literature and Art], Vol. 6, Moscow, 369–378. Tunkina, I. 2010. Paul du Brux. Oeuvres. Tome I-II. Compilation et rédaction I.V. Tunkina. St. Petersburg: Kolo. Vinogradov, Yu.A. and V.A. Goroncharovskyi 2008. Voennaya istoriya i voennoe delo Bospora Kimmeryiskogo (IV vek do nashey eri – seredina III veka nashey eri). [War history and military business of the Bosporus Cimmerian (4th century BC - middle of the 3rd century AD]. In: Trudi Instituta Itsorii Matrialnoy Kulturi Rossiyskoy Akademii Nauk [Works of the Institute of the History of Material Culture of the Russian Academy of Science], vol. XXV, Historia militaris: 113-115. St. Petersburg: Nestor-Istoriya. Vostchinina, A. 1974. Le portrait romain. Musée de l’Ermitage. Album et catalogue illustré de toute la collection. St. Petersburg: Éditions d›art Aurore. Wittig, M. 1994. Etupes, monographie d’un village de l’ancien comté de Montbéliard. Montbéliard : M. Wittig. Zaitseva, K. 1971. Olvijskie kultovie svintsovie izdelija [Olbian lead cult objects], in: Kultura i iskusstvo antichnogo mira. Sbornik nauchnikh trudov, red. K.S. Gorbunova [Culture and Art of Ancient World, Antology of Papers, ed. K.S. Gorbunova]: 84–106. Leningrad: Avrora. Zelenetskij, K. 1848. Zhizn’ I uchjenaja dejatelnost Blaramberga [Life and scientific activity of Blaramberg], in: Zapiski Odesskogo obschestva istorii i drevnostej [Briefs of Odessa Society of History and Antiquities], vol. II  : 220–228. Odessa: v gorodskoy tipografii [in the city typography].

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Greek Myths Abroad: A Comparative, Iconographic Study of Their Funerary Uses in Ancient Italy Valeria Riedemann Lorca1 Introduction1

Greek models and the cultural reception of heroic myth on Apulian red-figure vases and Etruscan sarcophagi are a central preoccupation in this line of inquiry and form the focus of the present essay.

Apulian and Etruscan materials have so far remained marginal to most discussions of Greek myth in art. Likewise, mythological images on funerary monuments from these regions have not been sufficiently discussed in the framework of their local and wider Mediterranean resonance. While depictions of myths on the earliest monuments are unquestionably indebted to Greek models, images soon appeared that demonstrate the adaptation and modification of traditional forms for local purposes. This phenomenon reaches its peak in Apulian and Etruscan art in the fourth century BC, a period that provides us with significant evidence to establish iconographic parallels and study the cultural significance of the myths presented in the graves of different peoples in pre-Roman Italy.

Apulian Red-Figure Vases in Context The Iapygi, the native people of Apulia, left no written records. Therefore all we know about them depends on a few Greek references and, primarily, on the archaeological evidence.6 In recent decades scholars have shown a new interest in Apulian vases and their complex imagery.7 Most of these studies, however, tend to consider vessels individually, overlooking the fact that they were usually found in groups. Apulian red-figure vases have commonly been found in graves in or around the Peucetian centres of Ruvo, Ceglie, Canosa, Gravina and Arpi.8 The more elaborate tombs are of the chamber type, which appeared in the archaic period and were widespread from the end of the fifth century BC. These were rectangular rooms accessible by a stair or passage (dromos).9 Traditionally, the deceased was placed in a contracted position inside the tomb accompanied by his or her grave goods.10 While there are figured wall paintings in some funerary structures, the largest range of imagery is, by far, found on the red-figured vases placed inside them.11 Therefore the type of tomb and features of the corredi represent the social importance of the individual or group of individuals deposited inside, thus becoming a symbol of the local power.12

Founded on the grounds of contextual archaeology and reception theory, this paper will analyse a group of Apulian redfigure vases and Etruscan mythological sarcophagi. Through the use of two case studies, this essay aims at demonstrating the benefits of a comparative regional approach by stressing that the funerary uses of Greek myth were diverse in their media, iconographic choices, and intended meaning. Archaeological Contexts and the Reception of Cultural Objects Context and its problems have been a debated topic in archaeology during recent decades. In the late 1980s, Hodder defined context as ‘the structure of meaning into which the objects have to be placed in order to be interpreted’.2 This is an essential point since, in the archaeological study of myth, context is often neglected.3 In this respect, it is crucial to bear in mind that in the particular context of funerals the images displayed on different media were part of a whole burial assemblage; by being removed from it, they are almost meaningless.

As the number of funerary vases in tombs increased over time, they also became monumental and elaborately decorated.13 In some cases, holes in their foot rendered them unsuitable for use as containers, thereby suggesting that they functioned as showpieces.14 Monumental kraters, loutrophoroi, and hydriae in the red-figure technique – among other shapes – became

The reception of cultural products, on the other hand, has been a significant subject in sociology and literary criticism, but it has been unsatisfactorily explored in archaeology.4 Cultural products take many forms. Most studies of cultural products have focused on works of art and media, but other cultural objects and practices have also become subjects of inquiry, including those provided by archaeology. For example, Miller’s account of how Persian material culture and art exerted influence in Attica has successfully demonstrated the benefits of this approach, distinguishing between imitations, adaptation, and derivation.5 The adaptation of

For literary sources, see Herring 2000: 48-55. For the archaeological evidence in the Peucetian region, see De Juliis 2010: 151-168. 7 See Carpenter 2009, with bibliography. 8 On the basis of both style and provenience of the Apulian red-figure vases published in RVAp, Robinson 1990. makes a statistical survey to examine the possible localisation of local workshops. See also Carpenter 2003: 4-6; Denoyelle and Iozzo 2009: 157-161. 9 De Juliis 2010: 160. 10 However, Tomb 33 at Timmari, shows cremation. See Canosa 2007: 24-26. 11 For example, Ruvo, Tomb 11, also known as Tomba delle Danzatrici (second half of the fourth century BC). See Bertocchi 1964: 33; Todisco 1999: 435-465; Gadaleta 2010. 12 Ciancio 1997: 69; Small 2014. 13 For different types of Apulian monumental kraters, see Pouzadoux 2013: 71, fig. 33. 14 Giuliani 2001: 18. For the different shapes, see Lohmann 1982: 210249. 6

School of Archaeology, University of Oxford Hodder 1987: 2. 3 Hölscher 2011; Junker 2011: 105. 4 See Jauss 1982; Bourdieu 1984; DiMaggio 1987; Griswold 1987. 5 Miller 1997: 137-149. 1 2

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Figure 1. Ruvo, Tomb 55/1836. Part of the corredo. From left to right, above: lekythos with Herakles, volute-krater with Orestes, situla with Rhessus, and louthrophoros with Amazonomachy (drawings by the author). thus the ‘canvases’ used by vase-painters and the primary media for depictions of mythological subjects.

that have been dated 360-340 BC (Figure 1). Subjects on them represent heroes and their deeds (Orestes, Heracles in the Garden of the Hesperides, Odysseus and Diomedes stealing the horses of Rhesus, and an Amazonomachy).

The iconography of Apulian vase-painting has been discussed extensively in the scholarly literature.15 However, this kind of approach tends to consider the images on the vases as isolated evidence for a literary text or for daily life in ancient Apulia. In this regard, Montanaro has made a significant contribution to the field by gathering hundreds of tomb-groups from Ruvo which have opened up new possibilities of interpretation.16

The myths represented in this tomb-group are interesting for two reasons: firstly, because they show the repetition of a subject on two kraters (Orestes and Iphigeneia in Tauris); and secondly, because some of the depictions in this tomb-group provide an example of how myths were sometimes adapted to target local audiences.

It still remains uncertain whether Apulian funerary vessels had the opportunity of being exhibited in public before deposition in the grave. However, this particular archaeological setting suggests that Apulian red-figure vases and the imagery on them were displayed at some point during the funeral. How viewers made sense of these images is the focus of my first case study.

The body of the red-figure volute-krater by the Ilioupersis Painter (360-350 BC) represents the encounter of Orestes with Iphigenia among the Taurians, probably informed by Euripides’ tragedy (Figure 2).17 The scene shows a meditative Pylades and a downhearted Orestes seated on the altar. Iphigenia approaches from the right side with the temple key in her hand, demonstrating her duty as a priestess. The names of Pylades (ΠΥΛΑΔΗΣ), Orestes (ΟΡΕΣΤΑΣ), and Iphigenia (ΙΦΙΓΕΝΕΙΑ) are inscribed next to each figure.18 Above, Apollo and Artemis are sitting next to an Ionic temple with halfopen doors. In comparison, the treatment of the same subject is different on the red-figure calyx-krater attributed to the Group of Iphigeneia (350-340 BC), representing the moment in which Iphigenia asks Pylades to take a letter to Argos (Figure

Tomb 55/1836, Ruvo Tomb 55 was discovered in 1836 near Porta San Angelo, not far from Ruvo’s city centre. Its corredo, composed of iron candelabra, a broken iron tripod and nearly thirty vessels of monochrome and Gnathia types, also had numerous redfigure vases in different shapes. Apart from the loutrophoros, these are all associated with sympotic wares. Among those in the red-figure technique, five show mythological subjects

Naples, Museo Archeologico, Inv. 82113; RVAp I, 193, no. 8/3. Eur. IT, 769 ff. Taplin 2007: 150. Cambitoglou (1975: 59), however, doubts that the scene is influenced by a stage performance of the play. More recently, Carpenter 2014: 273. 18 Note the spelling of Orestes, with the alpha instead of eta typical of the Doric dialect. 17

Trendall and Webster 1971; Trendall and Cambitoglou 1978-1982; Taplin 2007. 16 Montanaro 2007. 15

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Figure 3.Ruvo, Tomb 55/1836. Red-figure calix-krater by the Group of Iphigenia, Orestes and Iphigenia in Tauris (drawing by the author).

Figure 2. Ruvo, Tomb 55/1836. Red-figure volute-krater by the Ilioupersis Painter, Orestes and Iphigenia at Tauris (after A. Montanaro 2007: 361, fig. 234. Ruvo di Puglia e il suo territorio: Le necropoli).

This variation on a conventional iconography is not unique, of course. For example, a hydria by the Arpi Painter found in Tomb 13/1972, Arpi, depicts the death of the Niobids. This time, the myth has been modified to the extent that we can observe the end of Niobe alongside her daughters, yet none of her sons is depicted. Therefore the depictions on the loutrophoros from Ruvo and the hydria from Arpi suggest a wide regional circulation of these particular myths, which cannot be explained only in terms of isolated commissions.22 That aside, the presence of such a combat scene on the loutrophoros from Tomb 55 – a shape used to carry water either for the bridal bath or for washing the body of the dead – is peculiar. Most commonly in a funerary context, this shape would have a depiction of a human figure inside a naiskos with the image of other loutrophoroi.23

3).19 This time, she is inside the temple next to an Archaiclooking cult statue of Artemis, while holding the message that will precipitate the recognition between brother and sister. Iphigeneia’s story has a happy ending; first, she was saved from death by the gods, and also, she encounters her brother. These events may suggest a link to a universal theme of the encounter between brother and sister or between two relatives in the hereafter (on the back of the volute-krater by the Ilioupersis Painter two couples are depicted, one pair holding hands). A second case in point is the Amazonomachy depicted on the loutrophoros.20 The absence of Herakles suggests that this may be either the Trojan or the Amazonomachy with Theseus. However, it could be neither of them, and the meaning of the myth could have been modified to suit new purposes among the locals. Furthermore, the depiction of the warriors in local costumes may be indicative of a local version of the myth, thus revealing the ethnicity of the people who commissioned some of the vases and the values of Apulian society (Figure 4).21

The vases from Tomb 55/1981, Ruvo, are just one example among many others. Nonetheless, they show that the artists who painted them were highly refined both in their techniques and in their knowledge of Greek myth. The Etruscan Mythological Sarcophagi Etruscan funerary art of the second half of the fourth century BC provides numerous examples of depictions of Greek myth with epic or tragic content. The vast majority of them come from southern Etruria. Renowned representations of Greek myth in Etruria are the paintings that once decorated the François Tomb in Vulci and the painted scenes in the Tomba

Moscow, Pushkin Museum, Inv. 1b 504; RVAp II, 478, no. 8/18; CVA Pushkin 2, pl. 5. 20 Naples, Museo Archeologico, Inv. 82265; RVAp I, 404, no. 15/44. 21 For warriors in local costumes, see RVAp I 357, no. 13/197, pl. 113, 3; RVAp II, 744, no. 23/179, pl. 277, 5; Trendall 1989: fig. 175 and 232. More recently, Herring 2014: 79-95. 19

Mazzei 1999: 473. See depictions by the Metope Group and by the Painter of Louvre MNB 1148. 22 23

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Figure 4. Ruvo, Tomb 55/1836. Louthrophoros by the Group of Ruvo 423. Amazonomachy (detail of the warrior in local costumes). (after A. Montanaro 2007: 368, fig. 240. Ruvo di Puglia e il suo territorio: Le necropoli. Roma: ‘L’Erma’ di Bretschneider).

dell’Orco II in Tarquinia.24 However, the Etruscan mythological sarcophagi are a category of monument that is often neglected in the discussions about the funerary uses of myth in Etruria. Herbig first studied them in the 1950s, and subsequently Goethert, Steuernagel, and Van der Meer contributed with revisions.25 The fact that recent important compendia on Etruscan studies have ignored their importance as a corpus is, at the very least, unfortunate.26

Nonetheless, an important aspect of the iconographical programmes on Etruscan sarcophagi from Tarquinia and Tuscania is the limited repertoire of myths in comparison to the diversity of myths that appear on engraved mirrors and cistae.29 Sarcophagi from Tarquinia seem more sophisticated in style and show a wider variety of iconographic themes than those from Tuscania and Vulci, carved in a ‘cruder’ technique and thus revealing stylistic differences between local workshops. Using the data gathered by Van der Meer, we can infer that sarcophagi with mythological depictions represent only 11% out of the total production.30 This number is in contrast to the large quantity of mythological depictions on Apulian vases.

Seventeen stone mythological sarcophagi have come to us. Most of them are sculpted, but in some cases, they were also painted. The typology of Etruscan sarcophagi is varied, with mythological depictions concentrating on hall-sarcophagi. Commonly, these monuments show depictions of Trojan and Theban myths, sometimes combined. Among them, the sarcophagus from Torre San Severo is distinctive showing two Trojan and two ‘Odyssey’ scenes.27 Other recurrent themes are Amazonomachies, scenes of sacrifice, battle and murder.

Mythological scenes on Etruscan sarcophagi are exclusively depicted on those made in the late fourth- and early third centuries BC. After the final conquest of Rome (294-264 BC), non-mythological depictions predominate.31 As opposed to the continuous re-use of Roman sarcophagi, their Etruscan counterparts contained, in most cases, a single inhumation. This practice clearly shows that sarcophagi were used to enhance the status of the deceased individual and his or her

The combination of Trojan and Theban scenes is not exclusive to sarcophagi as it is also present in tomb painting.28 See Cristofani 1987; Simon 2013; Krauskopf 2016: 403. On Etruscan tomb painting in general, see Steingräber 1986; 2000. 25 Herbig 1952; Goethert 1974; Steuernagel 1998; Van der Meer 2004. 26 For example, MacIntosh Turfa 2013; Bell and Carpino 2016. 27 Orvieto, Museo Faina. Herbig no. 73 (H73). See Van der Meer 1985. 28 Van der Meer 1993. The juxtaposition of different myths and heroes in a same scene is not exclusive to sarcophagi and tomb painting. The same phenomenon is seen on mirrors of the second half of the fourth century BC that show a ‘thematic symmetrical rendering’. These 24

mirrors show two heroes from different mythical contexts juxtaposed in a manner not observed in Greek art. For example, a mirror (ES V, N 22; 403) shows the fight between Odysseus and Elpenor against Circe, an episode not mentioned in Greek sources. 29 See Van der Meer 1995. 30 Van der Meer 2004: 4. 31 Van der Meer 2004: 1. For the Roman conquest of Etruria in the third century BC, see Torelli 2009 [1981]: 251-278, esp. 251-256.

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Figure 5. Tarquinia, Tomb of the Partunu, Sarcophagus of the Priest. Achilles’ Sacrifice of the Trojan Prisoners (drawing by Danilo Sepúlveda).

Figure 6. Tarquinia, Tomb of the Partunu, Sarcophagus of the Priest. Amazonomachy (drawing by Danilo Sepúlveda). family. Tombs containing large numbers of sarcophagi show that these were in use for several generations, thus implying that they were seen by different audiences each time the tomb was opened. Numerous sarcophagi found in the Tomb of the Partunu at Tarquinia, in the Tomb of the Curunas II, and of the Vipinana family in Tuscania, illustrate this idea. The first one constitutes my second case study.

which has no parallel on other monuments (Figure 5).32 Besides, the introduction of Charun (a local demon of death) in this episode shows that the Etruscans were open to adapting traditional Greek subjects to their own needs. The other long side and the short sides show depictions of Amazons fighting male opponents (Figure 6). Conversely, the Sarcophagus of the Magnate belongs to a different type: it is an architectonic sarcophagus with small filling decorated with figures in relief (Figure 7).33 The lid features a reclining male figure, Velthur Partunus, as named by the inscription below. In this sarcophagus, an Amazonomachy on both long sides is, however, combined with a Centauromachy and the flight of Orestes and Pylades framed by winged demons. A rocky landscape and trees appear on the background illustrating that the scene takes

Amazonomachies in the Tomb of the Partunu This family grave was discovered in the in the Monterozzi necropolis at Tarquinia in 1896. It contained 26 sarcophagi in different styles, thus showing that the tomb was used by several generations. Among these, only two featured mythological scenes: the so-called Sarcophagus of the Priest and the Sarcophagus of the Magnate. Whereas the former has paintings, the latter shows reliefs. Both sarcophagi have a figured lid and inscriptions and feature Amazons fighting male opponents alongside other epic episodes.

Tarquinia, Museo Archaeologico Nazionale, Inv. RC 9871; H121. See Van der Meer 2004: 32. For a discussion of the central scene on this sarcophagus, see Blanck 1982. 33 Tarquinia, Museo Archaeologico Nazionale, Inv. RC 9873; H121. Goethert 1974: 235. 32

One of the long sides of the Sarcophagus of the Priest shows Achilles’ slaughter of the Trojans framed by Amazonomachies

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Figure 7. Tarquinia, Tomb of the Partunu, Sarcophagus of the Magnate. Amazonomachy (drawing by Danilo Sepúlveda). place outside, while demons of death carry the dead bodies away. The other sarcophagi from this tomb show abstract, restrained decoration. Today, they can all be seen in Tarquinia’s Museo Archeologico.

may count the vases, as depicted on a volute-krater in Naples.37 Furthermore, some vessels were hanging on the walls by nails at the time of discovery, as in Tomb 55 from Ruvo and in Tomb 2/1982, Bitonto (Figure 8).38 This practice indicates that the vases were considered showpieces of funerary furniture.

The Monuments in Their Social Context: Funerals and Viewers

Giuliani suggests that funerary ceremonies may have included the participation of a consolatory speaker who explained the images depicted on these ‘picture vases’, and perhaps established mythological comparisons between a hero’s tragic end and that of the deceased.39 However, this proposal presents some problems. Firstly, he assumes that acquaintance with tragedy at this time in Apulia was an elite characteristic, hence the need for a professional speaker to explain the stories on the vases to those less literate.40

Interpreting images in their contexts has never been an easy task. Although the contextual aspect of our monuments is essential in the interpretative process, their actual reception, notwithstanding their brief ‘social life’, is more problematic.34 Although the latter deals with viewers and audiences that no longer exist, reconstructing the ancient viewers’ frame of image interpretation is not totally impossible. Jauss, for example, provides a methodology for the construction of a ‘horizon of expectations’ within which readers (or viewers, in our case) elaborate meaning.35 Other studies, including the one by Miller, already mentioned, further contribute to understanding the cultural reception of objects and their interaction with viewers.

Secondly, it would be incorrect to accept that even areas such as Canosa or Ruvo that are located far from Taranto, the most prosperous city in Apulia, were inhabited by countryside or illiterate people. A case in point here is the result of a study by Todisco. He shows that the majority of vases depicting tragic scenes with certain provenance are not only of Apulian manufacture, but that the great majority of them have been found in Ruvo, and not in Taranto.41 In addition, when they

An Apulian funeral What would viewers attending a funeral in Apulia have understood from the images depicted on funerary vessels? In the case of Apulia, we can say positively that the vases were displayed during the burial ceremony and then placed in the tomb.36 People attended to mourn the corpse during the prothesis, bringing their offerings and gifts, among which we

Museo Archeologico Nazionale H 3255 (inv. 81934). See Pouzadoux 2008: 214, fig. 5. 38 Tomb 2/1982, sarcophagus found in Via Ammiraglio Vacca. See Riccardi 2003: 27. 39 Giuliani 1996: 86. 40 Giuliani 1995: 152-58. See Plb. 6.53-54. It is the case, however, that we have works by Pindar from the mid-fifth century BC implying that grave songs were sung during funerals, as also confirmed by a separate literary genre called threnoi. Nevertheless, we have no records for such practice in Apulia. 41 Todisco 2003. 37

Appadurai 1986. Jauss 1982. 36 Giuliani 1996. 34 35

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Figure 8. Bitonto, Tomb 2/1982 at the time of discovery (after A. Riccardi 2003: 27, fig. 23. Gli antichi peucezi a Bitonto. Bari: Edipuglia). appear, the names next to the figures are accurate.42 This evidence indicates that at least part of the population of the most prominent Italic sites in Apulia could read Greek and were familiar with Greek culture.43

Todisco further suggests that it was the painters who explained the images on the vases to their clients at the time of purchase.44 Besides, recent studies propose the possibility that Apulian vases were displayed at symposia and ritual ceremonies.45 If this is the case, then we can safely assume that part of the local population became acquainted with the visual language of myths. The stories depicted on the vases could be familiar to both the painter and the consumer who could have formed a ‘horizon of expectations’ within which old and new visual schemes of myths were interpreted.

If there was no funerary speaker, what would (illiterate) viewers see when looking at the images? Were they able to grasp deeper levels of meaning from the myths depicted on the vases? Todisco has answered this question in the negative. Nevertheless, the semantics of a picture may not require a particular version of the myth to engage a viewer. In fact, a painting showing a heroic episode can still be enjoyed through knowing other stories associated with a particular myth. This is experienced even today when we see that some depictions on the vases are outside our own ‘horizon of expectations’. Finally, the vast majority of depictions on Apulian vases are representations of mythological scenes, not from tragedies. This indicates that the place of oral, non-literary telling of Greek myth among the locals was fundamental.

Nevertheless, this explanation is only fairly satisfactory. In reality, the average local viewer’s acquaintance with the iconography of myth was probably very limited. Apart from vase painting, there are no remains of pedimental sculpture or other types of public decoration featuring images of myth in Apulia. This is in contrast to Etruria where myths appear not only on public monuments, but also on objects of domestic use such as mirrors and cistae. Although the number of figured vases from Italic sites is extensive, they all ended up in tombs. Therefore, the exposure to images was something experienced by the Italic people of Apulia only on specific occasions, such as the time of someone’s death.

The largest number of inscriptions on vases with tragic subjects are of Apulian manufacture. See Todisco 2003: 809 tab. 15. 43 For a discussion about the ‘philodramatic’ and the ‘iconocentric’ interpretative approaches to Apulian vase-painting, see Giuliani 1996: 72-75; Taplin 2007: 22-26. On the level of literacy of Apulian painters, see Schmidt 2005: 201-203. 42

44 45

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Decoding Sarcophagi

the purchasers of the vessels were not necessarily seeking consolation from the images depicted on them. Instead, the vases were intended as showpieces to embellish the funerary furniture and honour the deceased. In the process, mourners attending the funeral would be amazed at having the opportunity to see heroic representations of the stories they knew, in which key, culminating episodes involved different degrees of violence.

The evidence indicates that the Amazonomachy and Achilles’ sacrifice of the Trojan prisoners enjoyed some popularity in Etruria during the last decades of the fourth century BC, particularly on funerary monuments.46 The latter was depicted in a wall of the François Tomb at Vulci and on three sarcophagi, most of the times juxtaposed to other mythological episodes.47 By underlining the victory of the Greeks, the scene is often explained on the assumption that Etruscan noblemen aimed at being compared with the Greek heroes of the Trojan War, whereas the Romans were equated to the Trojans.48

In the case of the Etruscan Amazonomachies on the sarcophagi from the Tomb of the Partunu, a significant observation seems to be that none of the heroes that participate in the Greek versions is recognisable (as is also the case with the loutrophoros from Tomb 55, Ruvo). This is in contrast to variants of Amazonomachies with Herakles depicted on other Apulian vases, as well as on Etruscan mirrors and vases dating between the fourth and the second centuries BC. Therefore, in the case of ‘funerary’ Amazonomachies, we are dealing with deliberately anonymous, local versions of the myth.

Nonetheless, the depiction of this subject framed by an Amazonomachy on the Sarcophagus of the Priest from the Tomb of the Partunu shows that images can have a variety of meanings. The fact that another sarcophagus from this tomb echoes the same subject implies that the Partunu family had a concern for sharing a specific iconography. In this framework, it seems reasonable to think that when scenes of battle and sacrifice appear in a funerary context, they must have followed another requirement. They are scenes that allow the artist the possibility of depicting blood, thus highlighting the important role that blood plays in the cult of the dead.49 This Etruscan convention is something very different from the Greek iconography of the Iliad.

It has been said that this mere replication of the myth is deprived of its essence.51 Despite this, viewers attending a funeral may not have overlooked these variations. In fact, the visual frame for reading the subject in Etruria was wider than in Apulia. The Etruscans were exposed to images in other media as part of their daily lives, both in public buildings and on private items.52 Therefore their ‘expectations’ would undoubtedly have been confronted with the funerary version of the Amazonomachy.

The numerous Amazonomachies on Etruscan sarcophagi confirm a particular funerary use for other Greek myths as well. Firstly, the choice of the Amazonomachy theme does not seem to be related to the gender of the deceased. Secondly, while in Greek representations of the subject Herakles and Theseus are often the victorious protagonists of the battle, on the Etruscan sarcophagi the main hero is never depicted. Thirdly, Amazons are usually represented as triumphant or close to defeating their male opponents. Perhaps the theme was selected because of the admiration felt for the deeds of these mythical women. Furthermore, it seems to be something exciting, exotic women being dangerous, while the numerous combat scenes allowed the artist the possibility of depicting blood and the viewers of seeing it.

In the same way, myths that offer the possibility of depicting scenes of sacrifice, death and dying warriors in combat would have impressed viewers entering a tomb. Recent studies of this matter have shed new light on the different levels of meaning that scenes of sacrifice and dead had for the Etruscans, which do not necessarily coincide with our interpretations.53 Viewers’ expectations change over time. Perhaps the latest generations to be buried in the Tomb of the Partunu were not impressed at seeing the Amazonomachies on the old sarcophagi. For example, over time, the mythological sarcophagi from the Curunas Tomb I and II had to be hidden from the view to make room for new arrivals. In these tombs, new sarcophagi were placed close together around the old ones, indicating a shift of funerary ideologies.

The Use of Violence on Etruscan and Italic Funerary Monuments Violent, sacrificial and tragic scenes depicted on Etruscan and Apulian funerary monuments were something sought after by the elites at that time for different reasons.50 After analysing a large number of depictions on Apulian vases, and those from Tomb 55, Ruvo, in particular, it is possible to say that

Etruscologists up to the middle of the twentieth century firmly maintained that there was a tendency to alter the stories of Greek myth with contamination and ‘misunderstanding’.54 However, the Etruscan way of inserting foreign elements into Greek stories is what makes their account of the stories original, providing us with ‘Etruscanised’ versions of the myths which ultimately makes them Etruscan, and not Greek.

Il. 23.175-176. H121, H73, and H61 (although similar, the scene on the latter is most likely Neoptolemos killing Polites). The subject of Achilles sacrificing the Trojan prisoners has been studied by Maggiani 1985 and Zevi 1996. 48 This seems to be confirmed by the construction of a heroon over the so-called Tomb of Aeneas at Lavinium, in Latium, after its opening in the fourth century BC. See Bonfante 1986: 10 n. 59. 49 This possibility is briefly mentioned in Haynes 2000: 294, and later discussed by De Grummond 2006: 209-210, Bonfante 2012: 67-82, and Krauskopf 2016: 401-402. For ritual aspects of the cult of the dead, see Camporeale 2009: 220-238, esp. 232-237. For other rites and cults as depicted in Etruscan tomb-painting, see Weber-Lehmann 2012: 273281. 50 See Pouzadoux 2013: 151-157; Cerchiai et al. 2015: 309-319. 46 47

Camporeale 1959: 110. For example, the various representation of the Theban saga. For its implications in funerary contexts, see De Angelis 1999. For ‘hero at the altar’ scenes on sarcophagi and urns, see Steuernagel 1998. 53 See Warden 2008: 110; Carpino 2016: 413. 54 Pallottino 1942: 331-332; Camporeale 1965. 51 52

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Etruria and Early Rome. Madison, Wisconsin: The University of Wisconsin Press. Canosa, M. G. 2007. Una tomba principesca da Timmari. Roma: Giorgio Bretschneider. Carpenter, T. H. 2003. The Native Market of Red-Figure Vases in Apulia. In MAAR 48: 1–24. Carpenter, T. H. 2009. Prolegomenon to the Study of Apulian Red-Figure Pottery. In AJA 113: 27–38. Carpenter, T. H. 2014. A Case for Greek Tragedy in Italic Settlements in Fourth-Century B.C.E. Apulia. In T. H. Carpenter, K. Lynch and E. G. Robinson (eds.) The Italic People of Ancient Apulia. New York: Cambridge University Press. Carpino, A. 2016. The ‘Taste’ for Violence in Etruscan Art. In S. Bell, S. and A. Carpino (eds.) A Companion to the Etruscans. Oxford: Blackwell. Cerchiai, L., Lubtchansky, N., and Pouzadoux, C. 2015. Du bon usage de la violence dans l’iconographie italiote et étrusque. In R. Roure (ed.) Contacts et acculturations en Méditerranée Occidentale. Hommage à Michel Bats. Arles. Ciancio, A. 1997. Silbíon: Una città tra greci e indigeni. Bari: Levante Editori. Cristofani, M. 1979. The Etruscans. London: Orpis. Cristofani, M. 1987. Pittura funeraria e celebrazione della morte: Il caso della Tomba dell’Orco. In Tarquinia: Ricerche, scavi e prospettive. Atti del Convegno Internazionale Milano 24.–25.6.1986. Milan: Et. Csapo, E. 2010. Actors and Icons of the Ancient Theater. Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell. De Angelis, F. 1999. Tragedie familiari. Miti greci nell’arte sepolcrale etrusca. In F. De Angelis and S. Muth (eds.) Im Spiegel des Mythos: Bilderwelt und Lebenswelt. Wiesbaden. De Grummond, N.T. 2006. Etruscan Myth, Sacred History and Legend. University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology. De Juliis, E. 2010. La Peucezia: Caratteri Generali. In L. Todisco (ed.) La Puglia Centrale: Dall’età del Bronzo all’alto Medioevo. Atti del Convegno di Studi (Bari 15-16 giugno 2009). Rome: Giorgio Bretschneider. Denoyelle, M. and Iozzo, M. 2009. La Céramique Greque d’Italie méridionale et de Sicile: Productions colonials et apparentées du VIIIe au III av. J.-C. Paris: Picard. DiMaggio, P. 1987. Classification in Art. In American Sociological Review 52:440–55. Gadaleta, G. 2010. Strutture tombali e decorazione dipinta tra l’età classica e l’età ellenistica. In L. Todisco (ed.) La Puglia Centrale dall’ età del bronzo all’ alto medioevo. Rome: Bretschneider. Giuliani, L. 1995. Tragik, Trauer und Trost: Bildervasen für eine apulische Totenfeier. Berlin: Staatliche Museen zu Berlin. Giuliani, L. 1996. Rhesus between Dream and Death: On the Relation of Image to Literature in Apulian Vase-Painting. In BICS 41: 71–86. Giuliani, L. 2001. Sleeping Furies: Narration and the Impact of Texts in Apulian Vase-Painting- In Scripta Classica Israelica 20. Goethert, K. P. 1974. Typologie und Chronologie der jüngeretruskishen Steinsarkophage. Bonn. Griswold, W. 1987. The Fabrication of Meaning: Literary Interpretation in the United States, Great Britain, and the West Indies. In American Journal of Sociology 92: 1077–17. Haynes, S. 2000. Etruscan Civilization: A Cultural History. Los Angeles: The J. Paul Getty Museum.

The funerary use of Greek heroic stories is not limited to Apulia and Etruria. Greek myth in funerary art is also found in Macedonian tomb painting, whereas parallels on stone sarcophagi and reliefs are known from Asia Minor, Sidon, and Cyprus. In this respect, it is essential to note that cultural regions across the Mediterranean world shaped myths according to their particular needs, frequently relying on a conventional iconography depicted in a local style. This practice demonstrates that their meaning was not fixed, but mobilised and adapted from place to place. Concerning the question of whether there were particular iconographic choices, it is at least possible to say that from the hundreds of tomb-groups from Ruvo, only a few seem to show a preference for a particular theme. The majority of tomb-groups exhibit different subjects without an apparent conscious selection of specific mythical figures or episodes of myth. Although claiming special commissions is today difficult to prove, the tomb-group studied here is significant because it shows that, at least in some cases, the subjectmatter on the vases was not randomly chosen. These vessels should be considered, therefore, as substantial evidence for the viewers’ understanding and appreciation of the scenes. Likewise, studying the uses of mythological narratives on sarcophagi confirms that there was a limited repertoire of myths used in funerary monuments; some of them only seen in a funerary context. Finally, particular heroic stories depicting death or events related to death were relevant to these peoples because their ultimate function was to accompany the deceased. As a result, the myths depicted on these monuments enjoyed a short social life before entombment. The concealed life of these funerary artefacts still awaits scholarly attention. Bibliography Appadurai, A. 1988. The Social Life of Things: Commodities in Cultural Perspective. Cambridge University Press. Bell, S. and Carpino, A. 2016. A Companion to the Etruscans. Oxford: Blackwell. Bertocchi, F. 1964. La Pittura Funeraria Apula. Naples: G. Macchiaroli Editore. Blanck, H. 1982. Die Malereien des sogennanten PriesterSarkophages in Tarquinia. In Miscellanea Archaeologica Tobias Dohrn. Rome: Bretschneider. Bonfante, L. 1986. Etruscan Life and Afterlife. Warminster: Aris & Phillips. Bonfante, L. 2012. Human Sacrifice: Etruscan Rituals for Death and for Life. In C. Chiaramonte, G. Bagnasco and F. Chiesa (eds.), Interpretando l’Antico: Scritti di archeologia offerti a Maria Bponghi Jovino. Quaderni di Acme 142. Milan: Universita degli Studi. Bourdieu, P. 1984. Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgment of Taste. London: Routledge. Camporeale, G. 1959. L’amazonomachia in Etruria. In StEtr 27: 107–137. Camporeale, G. 1965. Banalizzazioni etrusche di miti greci. In Studi in onore di L. Banti. Rome: ‘L’Erma’ di Bretschneider. Camporeale, G. 2009. The Deified Deceased in Etruscan Culture. In S. Bell and H. Nagy (eds.) New Perspectives on

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Hodder, I. 1987. The Archaeology of Contextual Meanings. Cambridge: Cambridge University. Herbig, R. 1952. Die jüngeretruskischen Steinsarkophage (Die antiken Sarkophagsreliefs 7). Berlin. Herring, E. 2000. To See Ourselves as Others See Us! The Construction of Native Identities in Southern Italy. In E. Herring and K. Lomas (eds.) The Emergence of State Identities in Italy in the First Millennium B.C. London: Accordia Research Institute, University of London. Herring, E. 2014. Apulian Vase-Painting by Numbers: Some thoughts on the Production of Vases Depicting Indigenous Men. BICS 57(1): 79-95. Hölscher, T. 2011. Myth, images and the typology of identity in Greek art. In E. Gruen (ed.) Cultural Identity in the Ancient Mediterranean. Los Angeles. Jauss, H. R. 1982. Toward an Aesthetic of Reception. University of Minnesota Press. Junker, K. 2011. Interpreting the Images of Greek Myths: An Introduction. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Krasukopf, I. 2016. Myth in Etruria. In S. Bell, S. and A. Carpino (eds.) A Companion to the Etruscans. Oxford: Blackwell. Lohmann, H. 1982. Zu technischen Besonderheiten apulischer Vasen. In JdI 97: 191–249. McIntosh Turfa, J. 2013. The Etruscan World. London; New York: Routledge Maggiani, A. 1985. Il sacrificio dei prigioneri troiani. In Id. (ed.) Artigianato artistico: L’Etruria settentrionale interna in età ellenistica. Milan: Electa. Mazzei, M. 1999. Commitenza e mito: Essempi dalla Puglia settentrionale. In F. H. Massa-Pairault (ed.) Le Mythe Grec dans l’Italie Antique: Fonction et Image. Rome: École Française de Rome. Miller, M. 1997. Athens and Persia in the Fifth Century BC: A Study in Cultural Receptivity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Montanaro, A. 2007. Ruvo di Puglia e il suo territorio: Le necropoli. Roma: ‘L’Erma’ di Bretschneider. Moreno, P. 1982. Ceglie Pauceta I. Bari: Dedalo. Pallottino, M. 1942. Etruscologia. Milan: Hoepli. Pouzadoux, C. 2008a. Imagine, cultura e societa in Daunia e in Peucezia nel IV secolo a.C. In G. Volpe, M. Strazzulla and D. Leone (eds.) Storia e Archeologia della Daunia: Atti delle Giornate di studio (Foggia 19-21 maggio 2005). Bari: Edipuglia. Pouzadoux, C. 2013. Éloge d’un prince daunien: mythes et images en Italie méridionale au IVe siècle av. J.-C. Roma: École française de Rome. Riccardi, A. 1989. Le necropoli peucezie dei secoli VI e V a.C: tipologia funeraria e composizione dei corredi. In A. Ciancio (ed.) Archeologia e territorio. L’area peuceta. Goia del Colle. Riccardi, A. 2003. Gli antichi peucezi a Bitonto. Bari: Edipuglia. Robinson, E. G. 1990. Workshops of Red-Figure outside Taranto. In J. P. Descoeudres (ed.) Eumousia: Ceramic and Iconographic Studies in Honour of Alexander Cambitoglou. Sydney: Meditarch. Robinson, E. G. 2014. Greek Theatre in Non-Greek Apulia, In E. Csapo, H. Goette, J. Green and P. Wilson (eds.) Greek Theatre in the Fourth Century. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter. Schmidt, M. 2005. Livello culturale di singoli pittori: dalla erudizione individuale all’automatismo artigianale? In M. Denoyelle (ed.) La Ceramique Apulienne: bilan et perspectives: actes de la table ronde organisée par l’École française de Rome (30 novembre-2 décembre 2000). Naples: Centre Jean Bérard. Simon, E. 2013. Greek myth in Etruscan culture. In J. MacintoshTurfa (ed.) The Etruscan World. New York: Routledge.

Small, A. 2014. Pots, Peoples, and Places in Fourth-Century B.C.E. Apulia. In T. H. Carpenter, K. Lynch and E. G. Robinson (eds.) The Italic People of Ancient Apulia. New York: Cambridge University Press. Steingräber, S. 1986. Etruscan Painting: Catalogue Raisoneé of Etruscan Wall Painting. D. Ridgway and F. Serra Ridgway (eds.). New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich. Steingräber, S. 2000. Arpi-Apulien-Makedonien. Studien zum unteritalischen Grabwesen in hellenistischer Zeit. Mainz: Phillip von Zabern. Steuernagel, D. 1998. Menschenopfer und Mord am Altar. Griechische Mythen in etruskischen Gräbern (DAI Palilia 3). Wiesbaden. Taplin, O. 2007. Pots and Plays: Interaction between Tragedy and Greek Vase-Painting of the Fourth Century. Los Angeles: The J. Paul Getty Museum. Todisco, L. 1999. La tomba delle danzatrici di Ruvo di Puglia. In F. H. Massa-Pairault (ed.) Le Mythe Grec dans l’Italie Antique: Fonction et Image. Rome: École Française de Rome. Todisco, L. 2003. La ceramica figurata a soggetto tragico in Magna Grecia e in Sicilia. Roma: G. Bretschneider. Todisco, L. 2010. La società indigena tra oralità e scritura in età tardoclassica ed ellenistica. In Id. (ed.) La Puglia Centrale dall’ età del bronzo all’ alto medioevo. Rome: Btretschneider. Todisco, L. 2012. Myth and Tragedy: Red-figure pottery and verbal communication in central and northern Apulia in the later fourth century BC. In K. Boscher (ed.) Theater Outside Athens: Drama in Greek Sicily and South Italy. Cambridge University Press. Torelli, M. 2005. Principes indigini e classi dirigente Italote. Per una storia della commitenza di vasi apuli. In G. Sena Chiesa (ed.) Mitti Greci dalla Magna Graecia al collezionismo. Milano: Electa. Torelli, M. 2009 [1981]. Storia degli Etruschi. Roma, Bari: Laterza. Trendall, A. D. 1989. Red Figure Vases of South Italy and Sicily. London: Thames and Hudson. Trendall, A. D., and Cambitoglou, A. 1978–1982. The RedFigured Vases of Apulia (3 vols.). Oxford and New York: Clarendon Press and Oxford University Press. Trendall, A. D. and Webster, T.B.L. 1971. Illustrations of Greek Drama. London: Phaidon. Van der Meer, L. B. 1985. Thematische Symmetrie in der etruskischen Kunst. In BABesch 60: 72-83. Van der Meer, L. B. 1993. Tragédie et Réalite: Programmes iconographiques des sarcophages étrusques. In Spectacles Sportifs et Scéniques dans le Monde Étrusco-Italique. Rome  : École Française de Rome. Van der Meer, L. B. 1995. Interpretatio Etrusca: Greek Myths on Etruscan Mirrors. Amsterdam: Gieben. Van der Meer, L. B. 2004. Myths and More: On Etruscan Stone Sarcophagi (c. 350- c. 200 B.C.). Louvain: Dudley. Warden, G. 2008. The Tomb: The Etruscan Way of Death. In Id. (ed.) From the Temple and the Tomb: Etruscan Treasures from Tuscany. Dallas. Weber-Lehmann, C. 2012. Ritus und Kultus. Taugliche Topoi zur Interpretation der etruskischen Grabmalerei? In P. Amann (ed.) Kulte – Riten – religiöse Vorstellungen bei den Etruskern und ihr Verhältnis zu Politik und Gesellschaft. Vienna: Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Zanker, P. and Ewald, B. 2012. Living with Myths: The Imagery of Roman Sarcophagi. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Zevi, F. 1996. Prigionieri Troiani. In StMisc 30: 115–127.

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Orphica non grata? Underworld Palace Scenes on Apulian Red-Figure Pottery Revisited Karolina Sekita The peoples of Apulia, by the ancients called Iapygia,1 were certainly interested in Greek culture and myth, something which is confirmed by the representations on Apulian red-figure pottery found in great numbers in indigenous tombs and apparently made for funerary purposes.2 Such vases could, perhaps, be regarded as parallel to Attic whiteground lekythoi: both were produced for funerary purposes, appeared in one region, contain funerary decoration, and their occurrence was limited to a short period.3 It is still a matter of discussion, though, how far the representations on Apulian vases reflected Greek myths or culture and to what extent indigenous people adapted them, transforming them into something new which was uniquely their own.4

by Greek myths. I argue further, drawing on current scholarly discussion, that these myths might have been transmitted by particular Greek tragedies.6 It is true that many of the funerary elements present in Apulian vase painting, as well as some myths connected with the journey to the Underworld, may prima specie lead to such an assumption, but a careful analysis of the representations clearly shows that all of them refer simply to the sphere of myth, not to some specific, in this case ‘Orphic‘, beliefs. Of course, this is not to say that these representations were not symbolically involved in the religious sphere, reflecting certain hopes for the afterlife of their owners, but I argue that they contain mythical motifs or scenes taken from, or inspired by, Greek tragedies.7 As such, these scenes do not point to ‘Orphic‘ initiations and cannot be linked to the socalled ‘Orphic’ gold leaves, especially given that none of the latter was found in Apulia.8

Discussions of funerary imagery depicted on Apulian vases often start with the assumption that in one way or the other it reflects ‘Orphic beliefs’ in the afterlife, and indeed, much has been written about Apulian red-figure pottery and the supposed Orphic influences which affected the representations on the vases.5 Since such ‘beliefs’ were never depicted on Greek (Attic) pottery, in the case of Apulian vases this imagery is treated as a distinctively Southern Italian element. Nevertheless, scholarly discussions tend to focus only on the scenes representing Orpheus and Dionysos before the palace of the Underworld rulers, and such a selective approach leads to a distorted understanding, because these scenes in fact correspond to other similar representations involving different figures in similar settings, which are in turn neglected in scholarly accounts.

The imagery of Underworld palace scenes (which are in the centre of the representations) is found in twenty-seven examples which can be divided into four distinct groups. The first is the ‘bare’ one represented by three examples,9 with possible fourth10 and fifth11 representations in a variant form; all are attributed to the Baltimore Painter or his followers, and dated to 325-320 or 320-315 BC. This group shows the Underworld couple, Hades and Persephone, always in the centre of the representation, surrounded by figures connected with the Underworld (Figure 1): the Danaids,12

In this paper I am going to present the Underworld scenes involving Orpheus and Dionysos as a variant, belonging to a wider group of representations within which they should be located. I will also argue that in fact the imagery on Apulian pottery does not seem to reflect any specific ‘beliefs’, but that it shows rather a conception of the Underworld as conveyed

For bibliography see Todisco (2003), Taplin (2007), (2014) 141-55. In the light of recent research it seems very probable that tragedies and comedies were performed in Italic (non-Greek) settlements in Apulia: Robinson (2014) 319-32, Carpenter (2009) 32-4, (2014) 265-80. 7  Another very probable medium of transmission of Greek myths could have been hexameter poetry as Oliver Taplin suggested to me. 8  Note also that quite recently one of such so-called ‘Orphic’ scenes identified on Apulian red-figure pottery has been proved irrelevant: Villing (2014) 61-78, figs. 1-2 reconsidered a scene on a calyx-krater by the Underworld Painter (RVAp II no. 18/318, c. 330-310 BC) thought for a long time to represent a unique Orphic initiation scene representing Orpheus holding Kerberos on a leash; after cleaning, it turned out that the beautiful three-headed Cerberus was nothing more than an ordinary dog. Villing reinterpreted this representation and argued that instead of showing a lost ‘Orphic’ myth, it was inspired by Euripides’ lost Antiope, and showed a debate between Amphion and Zethos. 9  RVAp II no. 27/19 (c. 325-320 BC), Pensa (1977) pl. 9;, RVAp II no. 28/117 (c. 320-315), Pensa (1977) pl. 8; RVAp Supp I no. 27/23a (c. 325320 BC), Schauenburg (1984) pl. 103, 1. 10  RVAp II no. 27/21, pl. 324, 1 (c. 325-320 BC) showing only Persephone with Hermes in the palace. 11  RVAp II no. 23/45, pl. 271,1. 12  RVAp Supp. I no. 27/23a (attributed to the Baltimore Painter, c. 320315 BC) (Schauenburg 1984: pl. 103, 1; RVAp II no. 27/19 (attributed to the Baltimore Painter, c. 325-320 BC) Pensa (1977) pl. 9; RVAp II no. 28/117 (attributed to the Painter of Louvre, c. 320-315 BC), Pensa (1977) pl. 8; RVAp II no. 27/22a, pl. 325, 1 (attributed to the Baltimore Painter, c. 320-315 BC); RVAp Supp. II2 no. 27/22a2 (attributed to the 6 

Ps-Scyl. Perieg. 14, Strab. 6.3.1. 95% of the Apulian red-figure pottery with a known provenance was found in tombs: Todisco (2012) graph. 4-5. Most of the big vases (especially volute-kraters) have no bottom, which means that they could not have been used, for instance, in a sympotic context: the first known example is a volute-krater by the Sisyphus Painter (c. 410 BC; RVAp no. 1/51); on the phenomenon see Lohmann (1982). 3  Date range: Apulian vases: 430-300 BC; Attic white-ground lekythoi: 470-400 BC; I shall address this issue and conduct a comparative analysis of the representations elsewhere since constraints on space prevent me from discussing them here. 4  For bibliography see Carpenter, Lynch, Robinson (2014), Todisco (2012). 5  Smith (1972), Schmidt (1974) 105-37, Pensa (1977), Graf (1993), Johnston, McNiven (1996) 25-36, Bernabé, Jiménez San Cristóbal (2007) 280-3, 288-293, Bernabé (2009) 95-130, Tzifopoulos (2010) 1023, Graf, Johnston (2013) 65. Guthrie (1935) 187 denied any ‘Orphic’ connections and Carpenter (2009) 35 argued that the term ‘Orphic’ should be avoided in discussions of Apulian imagery and religion, but for some reason this advice has gone unheeded. 1  2 

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constructed, with four or more columns, usually Ionic18 (once an Ionic column occurs as pars pro toto)19; what is more, sometimes the palace is located by a lake or a river.20 In most of the representations Hades occurs sitting on a throne with a sceptre, sometimes also with a phiale, and Persephone accompanies him, standing or sitting next to him with her cross-bar torch; Hermes completes the scene. Furthermore, on one of the representations the Underworld couple appear also outside the palace, but the palace convention is observed: Hades is sitting enthroned with a sceptre in his left hand and with his right hand passes a phiale to Persephone, who is holding a wreath in her left, leaning on a cross-bar torch, while adjusting her veil with her right hand.21 The other three groups provide us with more information about a particular myth depicted on them, i.e. the motif of the journey to the Underworld: among these we have a representation of Orpheus singing by the Underworld palace and a dexiosis - a handshake between Hades and the one who is visiting him: Dionysus, and Amphiaraos. As in the case of funerary stelai, here too it is difficult (if not impossible) to state whether the dexiosis expresses a parting or a greeting; congratulations or wishes for a good journey to the other world; the unity between the dead and the living or the boundary between them; or simply consent for the situation taking place.22 Identification of the figures is clear as at least once they are accompanied by inscriptions in Greek which allow for systematic recognition.23 The earliest of these representations is a fragment of a volutekrater,24 dated to 400 BC, showing Orpheus with a lyre and a figure with a bird-crowned sceptre in a palace, and though the the Baltimore Painter, c. 320-315 BC); RVAp II no. 25/10a (attributed to the Ganymede Painter, c. 330 BC); RVAp II no. 27/23 (attributed to the Baltimore Painter, c. 325-320 BC), Pensa (1977) pl. 15; RVAp Supp. II2 no. 27/22a4 (attributed to the Baltimore Painter, c. 325-320 BC), Schauenburg (1990) 92, figs. 1-3; RVAp II nos. 18/282 and 18/284, pl. 194, 196 (attributed to the Underworld Painter, c. 325-320 BC); RVAp I no. 16/81, pl. 160, 1 (attributed to the Lycurgus Painter, c. 340 BC). 18  Sometimes the depictions of the palace are very elaborate: e.g., ceiling-beams are clearly shown, on the roof there are palmette acroteria, capitals are replaced by a caryatid on an acanthus column and the pediment is decorated with a mask flanked by Scyllae (RVAp I no. 16/82, pl. 160, 2; attributed to the Lycurgus Painter, c. 340 BC) or the front columns have sphinx capitals (RVAp I no. 16/81, pl. 160, 1; attributed to the Lycurgus Painter, c. 340 BC). 19  RVAp Supp II2 no. 27/40g (attributed to the Baltimore Painter, c. 325-320 BC), Schauenburg (2002) 13-15, fig. IIa, IIc. 20  RVAp I nos. 16/81 and 16/82, pl. 160, 1-2 (attributed to the Lycurgus Painter, c. 340 BC); RVAp I no. 16/54 (attributed to the Lycurgus Painter, c. 340 BC), Schauenburg (1958) 66, fig. 11, Pensa (1977) pl. 7; RVAp II nos. 18/282 and 18/284, pl. 194, 196 (attributed to the Underworld Painter, c. 325-320 BC). 21  RVAp II no. 23/45, pl. 271,1, Pensa (1977) pl. 11. 22  Cf. Schmidt (2000) 86-88, who differentiates between the handshakes, on which basis she distinguishes who is staying in the Underworld and who is leaving, and divides the representations into Tableau-Typus and Begrüssungs/Dialog-Typus. 23  RVAp I no. 16/82, pl. 160, 2 (attributed to the Lycurgus Painter, c. 340 BC): for Hermes (ΕΡΜΑΣ) and Orpheus (ΟΡΦΕΥΣ); RVAp Supp II3 no. 18/41a1 [Fig.2 above] (attributed to the Darius Painter, c. 340330 BC) for Hades (|-ΑΙΔΑΣ), Persephone (ΦΕΡΣΕΦΟΝΑ), Dionysos (ΔΙΟΝΥΣΟΣ), Hermes (|-ΕΡΜΗΣ); RVAp II no. 18/76 (attributed to the Darius Painter, c. 335 BC) and RVAp II no. 18/42 (attributed to the Darius Painter, c.. 340-330 BC), Schauenburg (1962) pl. 17, 3 for Amphiaraos ([Α]ΜΦΙ[ΑΡ]ΑΟΣ and ΑΜΦ[Ι]ΑΡΑΟΣ respectively). 24  RVAp I no. 2/26 (attributed to the circle of the Painter of the Birth of Dionysos, ca. 400-390 BC).

Figure 1. Apulian volute-krater attributed to the Painter of Louvre, c. 320-315 BC, St. Petersburg, the State Hermitage Museum, inv. GR4650 (B-1717). Photograph courtesy of the State Hermitage Museum, © The State Hermitage Museum. Photograph by Svetlana Suetova, Konstantin Sinyavsky. Theseus and Peirithoos,13 Kerberos (usually together with Herakles trying to drag him out),14 and the judges of the Underworld,15 Sisyphus16 and Hecate.17 The palace is wellBaltimore Painter, c. 320-315 BC). 13  RVAp I no. 16/54 (attributed to the Lycurgus Painter, c. 350 BC), Pensa (1977:) pl. 7; RVA II no. 27/23 (attributed to the Baltimore Painter, c. 320-315 BC), Pensa (1977) pl. 15. 14  RVAp I no. 16/54 (attributed to the Lycurgus Painter, c. 350 BC), Pensa (1977) pl. 7; RVAp II no. 18/284, pl. 196 (attributed to the Underworld Painter, c. 325-320 BC); RVAp II no. 16/282, pl. 194 (attributed to the Underworld Painter, c. 325-320 BC); RVAp I nos. 16/81 and 16/82, pl. 160, 1-2 (attributed to the Lycurgus Painter, c. 340 BC). 15  RVAp II no. 18/282, pl. 194 (attributed to the Underworld Painter, c. 325-320 BC). 16  RVAp II no. 18/282, pl. 194 (attributed to the Underworld Painter, c. 325-320 BC); RVAp I no. 16/82, pl. 160, 2 (attributed to the Lycurgus Painter, c. 340 BC). 17  RVAp II no. 27/19 (attributed to the Baltimore Painter, c. 325-320 BC), Pensa (1977) pl. 9; RVAp II no. 27/22a, pl. 325, 1 (attributed to

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scene is very fragmentary, on the basis of certain similarities in the representation of the building and attributes, Trendall and Cambitoglou concluded that this was also a representation of the Underworld palace.25 But, despite this fragment, all other representations of the Underworld palace (and their types mentioned above) known to us come from the second half of the 4th c. BC. All these representations (with the exception of four, which are depicted on big amphorae)26 come from volute-kraters. Usually all the elaborate theories about Orphism are based on the representation on a volute-krater attributed to the Darius Painter in the Toledo Museum27 (Figure 2), which according to Johnston and McNiven ‘provides the first artistic illustration of soteriological doctrines alluded to in ancient Orphic sources’.28 It is true that in this scene Dionysos appears before the palace of the rulers of the dead, shaking hands with Hades, but nothing here suggests the authority which Dionysos has in the Underworld or that this authority could be beneficial to his worshippers, as Johnston and McNiven argued.29 If we take into consideration other figures whose names are inscribed (Agaue, Pentheus, Actaeon), completing the scene, it is quite clear that the representation shows us Dionysos coming to the Underworld for his mother Semele: the figures on the right refer to Semele and their offence towards her.30 On the left we have Dionysos’ companions (also inscribed): a satyr Oinops and two maenads, Persis and Acheta; below (or in front of) the palace a Paniskos with a tambourine approaches Cerberus. Graf‘s interpretation,31 which links the scene with a figure in the naiskos depicted on the reverse, which, according to him, shows an initiate, cannot be sustained either, simply because there are many volute-kraters without a representation of the Underworld palace, but with scenes of tragedy and the naiskos on the other side; these have never been interpreted as connected to or influenced by any ‘Orphic’ beliefs.

Figure 2. Apulian volute-krater attributed to the Darius Painter, c. 340-330 BC, Toledo OH, Toledo Museum of Art, Gift of Edward Drummond Libbey, Florence Scott Libbey, and the Egypt Exploration Society, by exchange, inv. 1994.19. Photograph courtesy of the Toledo Museum of Art.

Other representations showing the gesture of dexiosis between the lord of the dead and a hero are those of Amphiaraos (Figure

3): there are eight in total32 (with a possible ninth as a variant),33 dated between 335 and 320. Depictions of Amphiaraos in the palace of Hades are completely uninteresting to the Orphic-enthusiasts, as Amphiaraos is not a figure involved in ‘Orphic’ matters and because the scenes clearly show us a mythical situation in which Amphiaraos, after being rescued from unavoidable death in battle by Zeus, who opened the earth before his chariot, went down to Hades’ realm.34 This

RVAp I, p. 41. RVAp II no. 18/225, pl. 190 (attributed to Darius-Underworld circle, c. 330-325 BC); RVAp II no. 23/293, pl. 284, 1 (attributed to the Patera Painter and associates, c. 320-315 BC); RVAp II2 no. 25/15(6) (attributed to the Ganymede Painter, c. 330 BC), Schmidt (1974) pls. 7-8; RVAp Supp II2 no. 27/40g (attributed to the Baltimore Painter, c. 325-320 BC). 27  RVAp Supp II3 no. 18/41a1 (attributed to the Darius Painter, c. 340330 BC). 28  Johnson, McNiven (1996) 1. 29  Johnson, McNiven (1996) 25. 30  Contra Moret (1993) 301, who argues that it is impossible that the scene on the volute-krater has anything to do with this myth, since Semele is absent; however, she is no more absent than she is from Euripides’ Bacchae, where we only hear about her. Actaeon is also only mentioned in the Bacchae, but his offence towards Semele might have driven the plot of Aeschylus’ Toxotides (TGrF III frs. 241-246) and been mentioned in his Semele (TGrF III fr. 221). A possible connection of this representation with Euripides’ Bacchae was pointed out by Trendall and Cambitoglou: RVAp Supp 2/3, p. 508. Furthermore, Dionysiac myths were quite popular in tragedy, and this scene might have been inspired also by other tragedies concerned with the myth, for instance, a Bacchae is mentioned in the repertoire of Iophon (TGrF I no. 20), Xenocles (TGrF I no. 33), Cleophon (TGrF I no. 77), and Aeschylus (TGrF III fr. 22), a Semele was written by both Diogenes of Athens (TGrF I no. 45), and Carcinus II (TGrF I no. 70), and a Dionysus by Chaeremon (TGrF I no. 71). 31  Graf (1993) 256. 25  26 

RVAp II no. 18/75 (attributed to the Darius Painter, c. 335 BC), Pensa (1977) pl.14b; RVAp II no. 25/10a (attributed to the Ganymede Painter, c. 330 BC); RVAp II no. 27/16 (attributed to the Baltimore Painter, c. 325-320 BC); RVAp II no. 27/22a, pl. 325, 1 (attributed to the Baltimore Painter, c. 325-320 BC); RVAp II no. 27/23 (attributed to the Baltimore Painter, c. 325-320 BC), Pensa (1977) pl. 15; RVAp Supp. II2 no. 27/22a13, pl. LXXI, 2 (attributed to the Baltimore Painter, c. 325-320 BC), Schauenburg (1990) 97, fig. 6, (1984) pl. 116; for other representations see Lohmann (1986) 65-82. 33  RVAp Supp II2 no. 27/22a4 (attributed to the Baltimore Painter, c. 325-320 BC), Schauenburg (1990) 92, figs. 1-3. 34  Hes. fr. 9 (West), Pind. Nem. 9.16ff., 10.7ff., Ol. 6.13ff., Ps-Apoll. Bibl. 3.76, Paus. 1.34.2., 9.14.4. It might be that the Apulian representations reflect this episode, as before being immortalised by Zeus he should have visited the realm of the dead: Pind. Nem. 9.57, Ol. 6.21, Cic. de Divin. 1.40. 32 

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talking to the lord of the dead, who seems to be very engaged in the talk, as he is gesticulating animatedly.36 Only once does he appear without him, but standing before Persephone, who is seated on a throne in the palace; here too they also seem to be talking about something.37 It is also hard to say whether he is about to leave the realm of the dead or he has just arrived there, because the scenes do not make this clear: in one image he seems to be taking off his helmet,38 which may indicate that he is going to stay there for a while. Although his ontological status is unclear (it is hard to decide whether he is a god or a hero)39, the remark in Sophocles’ Electra (840-41) that he rules with full power of mind under the earth (ὑπὸ γαίας πάμψυχος ἀνάσσει) leaves no doubt that he has a special role connected with the Underworld. Nevertheless, even this does not imply any Orphic-specific beliefs. The scenes containing Orpheus are, as we might predict, the most explored (Figure 4): there are twelve in total40 (including four variations where the ‘palace convention’ is observed, as in the case of the ‘bare’ palace type mentioned above)41 dated between 400 and 320 BC. Orpheus is depicted singing before the Underworld couple, but again we cannot assume that he is doing so because he has authority in the Underworld and would like to ensure a blissful afterlife for initiates; rather, he is singing there to regain his wife, Eurydike. This myth42 is clearly visible on one volute-krater by the Underworld Painter43 (Figure 5): Orpheus is depicted holding a kithara, with Eros behind him; next to him stands Eurydike, and Orpheus is holding her hand. And I believe that all the other representations of Orpheus singing before the palace of the rulers of the Underworld should be interpreted in the light of this myth, which was perhaps represented in lost tragedies of Aeschylus, such as Bassarids.44 Baltimore Painter, c. 325-320 BC), Schauenburg (1984) pl. 116; RVAp II no. 18/75 (attributed to the Darius Painter, c. 335 BC), Pensa (1977) pl.14b; RVAp II no. 27/23 (attributed to the Baltimore Painter, c. 325320 BC), Pensa (1977) pl. 15. 36  RVAp II no. 27/23 (attributed to the Baltimore Painter, c. 325-320 BC), Pensa (1977) pl. 15; RVAp II 27/16 (attributed to the Baltimore Painter, c. 325-320 BC); RVAp Supp. II2 no. 27/22a1-2, pl. LXXI, 2 (attributed to the Baltimore Painter, c. 325-320 BC), Schauenburg, (1990) 97, fig. 6. 37  See n. 33. 38  RVAp Supp. II2 no. 27/22a1, pl. LXXI, 2 (attributed to the Baltimore Painter, c. 325-320 BC). 39  Ustinova (2002) 267-269. 40  RVAp I no. 2/26 (attributed to the circle of the Painter of the Birth of Dionysos, c. 400-390 BC); RVAp I no. 16/81-82, pl. 160, 1-2 (attributed to the Lycurgus Painter, c. 340 BC); RVAp II no. 18/67 (attributed to the Darius Painter, c. 335 BC); RVAp II no. 18/225; pl. 190 (attributed to the Darius-Underworld circle, c. 330-325 C), RVAp II no. 18/282 and 18/284, pl. 194, 196 (attributed to the Underworld Painter, c. 325-320 BC); RVAp II no. 23/293, pl. 284, 1 (attributed to the Patera Painter and associates, c. 320-315 BC); RVAp II no. 27/17, pl. 323, 3-4 (attributed to the Baltimore Painter, c. 325-320 BC); RVAp Supp II2 no. 27/40g (attributed to the Baltimore Painter, c. 325-320 BC), Schauenburg (2002) 13-15, fig. IIa, IIc.; RVAp Supp II2 no. 29/A1 and 29/A2 (attributed to the White Saccos-Kantharos group, c. 325-320 BC ). 41  See n. 20. 42  Eur. Alc. 357-362. It could have been known earlier, of course, but unfortunately, there is no evidence prior to the 5th c. BC: Aeschylus’ Bassarides (TGrF III frs. 23-25) mentioned this myth as well, according to Pseudo-Eratosthenes (see Katast. 24). 43  RVAp II no. 18/284, pl. 196 (attributed to the Underworld Painter, c. 325-320 BC); cf. Carpenter (2009) 35. 44  Todisco (2012) without any explanation (he refers only to Woodford’s entry Megara I in LIMC VIII, p. 828-9) identifies some of these Underworld palace scenes with Orpheus as representing Euripides’ Heracles (in his catalogue: Ap 107, 210, 222, 233-4; I do not understand

Figure 3. Apulian volute-krater attributed to the Baltimore Painter, c. 325-320 BC, Basel, Antikenmuseum Basel und Sammlung Ludwig, inv. BS 464. Photograph courtesy of the Antikenmuseum Basel und Sammlung Ludwig, © Antikenmuseum Basel und Sammlung Ludwig. Photographer: R. Habegger. myth might have appeared, for instance, in fragmentarily preserved tragedies of Sophocles (Epigonoi, and probably as well in Amphiaraos), and also in Epigonoi by Astydamas II, and Amphiaraos by either Carcinus II or Cleophon: either of these tragedies might have inspired these representations. It is worth noticing that Dionysos and Orpheus are never depicted in the palace together with the rulers of the Underworld; only Hermes and Amphiaraos, who both belong in one way or another to the realm of the dead, are granted this honour. Furthermore, Amphiaraos seems to be treated as somebody welcome as an equal: on most of the representations he is shaking hands with Hades.35 A few times we see him RVAp II no. 27/22a, pl. 325, 1 (attributed to the Baltimore Painter, c. 320-315 BC); RVAp II no. 25/10a (attributed to the Ganymede Painter, c. 330 BC); RVAp Supp. II2 no. 27/22a3, pl. LXXI, 2 (attributed to the 35 

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Figure 4. Apulian volute-krater attributed to the Underworld Painter, c. 325-320 BC Munich, Staatliche Antikensammlungen und Glyptothek München, inv. 3297. Photograph courtesy of the Staatliche Antikensammlungen und Glyptothek München, © Staatliche Antikensammlungen und Glyptothek München. Photograph by Renate Kühling. I believe that this myth is also represented in the very famous scene from an amphora by the Ganymede Painter45 (Figure

6), always taken to show Orpheus singing before the dead, holding a scroll, which has in turn always been interpreted as a kind of ‘Orphic’ gold tablet or Derveni Papyrus.46 But, first of all, why would Orpheus have to sing before the dead? Secondly, to my knowledge, there is no representation in art where a hero is shown standing before a seated mortal. Furthermore, the building is a palace, rather than a naiskos, as is indicated by the ceiling, where we see beams, as well as the shield hanging on the wall. That is why, I believe, it is an elliptical scene (reduced only to the most important elements of the myth itself) in which Orpheus is singing before Hades, enthroned as usual, holding a short sceptre. It is noticeable that the fingers of the hand holding a sceptre are composed in

why Ap 122 is ascribed to Euripides’ Oenomaus instead of Heracles since the scene is similar to those mentioned already) because in the upper left corner Megara appears with children named as ‘Heraclidae’. But figures representing Megara and the Heraclidae are at the side of the representation of the Underworld palace (together with other figures expected to appear in an Underworld context), which together with Orpheus belongs to the foreground. Furthermore, the appearance of Megara and the Heraclidae in an Underworld context should not surprise us (as with Sisyphus, Tantalus, judges of the Underworld, etc.) because, for instance, according Pausanias (10.29.7) Megara was depicted in Polygnotos’ Nekyia; she is also mentioned in the Underworld by Homer (Od. 11.269); the appearance of the Heraclidae in the Underworld context might have been influenced, according to Woodford, by Euripides’ Heracles. 45  RVAp II no. 25/15(6) (attributed to the Ganymede Painter, c. 330

BC), Schmidt (1974) pls. 7-8. 46  Graf, Johnston (2013) 65.

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the typical gesture of talk, visible also in his case in other palace scenes discussed above. As to the ‘scroll’, it might be explained in a different way: possibly as a permission to take Eurydike away or something (for instance, verses of the song) that Orpheus gave Hades in exchange for her (this attribute is, I must admit, odd and hard to interpret). What also remains strange is Hades’ white hair, attested on Attic pottery,47 but almost never present on that from Apulia; almost, because a recently-found bell-krater from Gravina (end of the 5th c. BC)48 (Figure 7) now provides a solitary attestation that it also occurred on Apulian vases. Here we see the lord of the dead reclining with a cornucopia (his most popular attribute on Attic pottery and appearing in art for the first time on Attic red-figure pottery as his),49 approached by Herakles. Behind the kline stands Persephone.

Figure 5. Apulian volute-krater attributed to the Underworld Painter, c. 325-320 BC, Naples, Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli, inv. Stg. 709. Photograph courtesy of the Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli, © Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli.

Another, more risky, interpretation might be that the amphora in question presents a relief or a stele, as the figures are painted white. This convention occurs in Apulian red-figure pottery in representations of stelai, and is generally used in Greek vase-painting to depict a statue not a living figure.50 Although we know hardly any mythological representations on Greek funerary stelai, such representations were frequent on naiskoi in Taranto;51 of interest may also be a representation of a divine statue in the naiskos on a barrel-amphora by the Virginia Exhibition Painter,52 which shows us Hermes and a seated man both painted white. If we accept the idea that the palace scenes on Apulian pottery had their origin in myths transferred to Apulia by means of Greek tragedies, one may wonder to what extent this hypothesis can be sustained in the light of the ‘bare’ type of palace scenes, representing only the Underworld couple, usually accompanied by Hermes. Apart from the obvious guess that any myth including the motif of the Underworld could have been alluded to through this kind of representation, I believe an assumption could be risked that the scene might have been taken from Sophocles’ Triptolemos or one of the Aeschylean tragedies exploring the Eleusinian myth of the abduction of Kore,53 since the scenes depicted on the Apulian vases seem to reflect lines from the Homeric Hymn to Demeter (342-6): τέτμε (Ἑρμῆς) δὲ τόν γε ἄνακτα δόμων ἔντοσθεν ἐόντα | ἥμενον ἐν λεχέεσσι σὺν αἰδοίῃ παρακοίτι | πόλλ’ ἀεκαζομένῃ μητρὸς πόθῳ· † ἣ δ‘ ἐπ᾽ ἀτλήτων | ἔργοις θεῶν μακάρων μητίσετο βουλῇ. † | ἀγχοῦ δ‘ ἱστάμενος προσέφη κρατὺς Ἀργειφόντης...

ABV 368, 107 (520/10 BC), 373, 176 (520/10 BC), ARV21154, 38bis (430 BC), 1191, 1 (430 BC). 48  Ciancio (1997) T21. 49  ARV2 648, 25 (480/70 BC), Schauenburg (1953) 41, fig. 4; ARV2 647, 21 (470 BC), Schauenburg (1958) fig. 1; cf. Sekita (2016). 50  Cf. Niobe’s petrification rendered on Apulian red-figure pottery: for examples and discussion see Taplin (2007) 76-7. 51  Carter (1975) 21-22. 52  RVAp Supp II no. 18/157b, pl.39.4 (attributed to the Darius Painter, c. 335 BC). 53  See, for instance TGrF III (Radt) fr. 374. 47 

Figure 6. Apulian amphora by the Ganymede Painter, c. 330 BC, Antikenmuseum und Sammlung Ludwig, inv. S40. Photograph courtesy of the Antikenmuseum und Sammlung Ludwig, © Antikenmuseum und Sammlung Ludwig. Photographer: Andreas F. Voegelin.

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tragedy is an important source for the Underworld palace scenes on the Apulian red-figure pottery of the 4th c. BC requires proper discussion in its own right. So too do the important issues (which I shall fully address elsewhere) of the degree of social and/or cultural integration, adherence to traditions and identities within Apulia. For the moment, it will suffice, I hope, to have removed the misleading ‘Orphic’ interpretation from scholarly discourse. Acknowledgements

Figure 7. Apulian bell-krater, dated to the end of the 5th c. BC, under concession of the Soprintendenza Archeologia Belle Arti e Paesaggio Città Metropolitana di Bari. After A. Ciancio, Silbíon. Una città tra greci e indigeni: la documentazione archeologica dal territorio di Gravina in Puglia dall’ottavo al quinto secolo a.C., Bari, 1997, p. 114. (Hermes) did not demur, but straightway left the seat of Olympus and sped down under the recesses of the earth. He found its lord within his mansions, seated on his couch with his modest consort, who was full of resistance from longing for her mother .... [unintelligible].... Standing close to him, the strong Argus-slayer addressed him... (tr. West)

My work on this paper started during my DPhil studies at the University of Oxford, and is a result of a project funded by the National Centre for Science in Poland (2013/08/t/ HS3/00118). Hence, I would like to thank Prof. Robert Parker, the supervisor of my thesis, for his constant support and advice. For encouragement to work on Apulian redfigure pottery I am in debt to Dr Thomas Mannack, whose knowledge of the subject was an invaluable guide for me. My ideas benefited also from seminar discussions at Warsaw University: I should like to thank here Prof. Włodzimierz Lengauer and Prof. Marek Węcowski for providing such an opportunity, and Dr Ed Bispham and Dr Lidia Ożarowska for discussion on the subject over many years; for comments on the final version I am grateful to Prof. Oliver Taplin. I am alone responsible for all mistakes that may remain.

Abbreviations ABV Beazley, J.D. 1956, Attic Black-Figure Vase-Painters, Oxford: Oxford University Press ARV2 Beazley, J.D. 1963, Attic Red-Figure Vase-Painters, 2nd edition, Oxford: Oxford University Press RVAp I Trendall A.D., Cambitoglou A. 1978, The Red-Figure vases of Apulia, vol 1. Early and Middle Apulian, Oxford: Oxford University Press RVAp II Trendall A.D., Cambitoglou A. 1982, The Red-Figure vases of Apulia, vol 2. Late Apulian, Oxford: Oxford University Press RVAp Supp I Trendall A.D., Cambitoglou A. 1983, First Supplement to the Red-Figure Vases of Apulia, London: Institute of Classical Studies, Bulletin Supplement No. 42 RVAp Supp II1 Trendall A.D., Cambitoglou A. 1991, Second Supplement to the Red-Figure Vases of Apulia, part I, Chapters 1-20, London: Institute of Classical Studies, Bulletin Supplement No. 60 RVAp Supp II2 Trendall A.D., Cambitoglou A. 1992, Second Supplement to the Red-Figure Vases of Apulia, part II, Chapters 21-30, Indexes and Concordances, London: Institute of Classical Studies, Bulletin Supplement No. 60 RVAp Supp II3 Trendall A.D., Cambitoglou A. 1992, Second Supplement to the Red-Figure Vases of Apulia, part III, Postscript, Appendix 1 - Vases from Canosa, Appendix 2 - Vases from Recent or Forthcoming Auction Sales, London: Institute of Classical Studies, Bulletin Supplement No. 60

Statistically, the representations discussed, (28 Underworld palace scenes - including the amphora by the Ganymede Painter - present on Apulian red-figure pottery of the 4th c. BC) account for around 3% of all volute-krater representations, and around 0.22% of all Apulian red-figure pottery.54 Having this in mind as well as the fact that representations of Orpheus in the Underworld palace scenes are comparable in number to those of Amphiaraos, it seems that these representations cannot serve as evidence for ‘Orphic’ initiations or beliefs. They should instead be seen as derived from Greek myth, and more specifically as inspired and probably transmitted by means of Greek tragedy, unless the whole of Greek tragedy was influenced by Orphism... Certainly, my hypothesis that Greek 861 volute-kraters and 11967 vases in total: according to Todisco (2003) fig. 13: I am referring to the total number of representations because the catalogue presents only 72 volute-kraters (out of 243 vases in total) for which a possible tragedy was indicated as source or at least proposed in scholarship, and does not include, for instance, volute-kraters with the Underworld palace and Amphiaraos discussed in the present paper. See also Todisco (2012) graph. 17. 54 

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TGrF Snell B., Kannicht R., Radt S. (eds.) 1986-2004, Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta (TrGF), vols. 1-5, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht

Robinson E.G.D. 2014, ‘Greek Theatre in Non-Greek Apulia’, in E. Csapo, H.R. Goette, J.R. Green, P. Wilson (eds.), Greek Theatre in the Fourth Century B. C., Berlin/Boston: Walter de Gruyter GmbH, 319–32. Schauenburg K. 2002, Studien zur unteritalischen Vasenmalerei, Band IV/V, Kiel: Ludwig. Schauenburg K. 1990, ‘Zu zwei Unterweltskrateren des Baltimoremalers’, AA 91–100. Schauenburg K. 1984, ‘Unterweltsbilder aus Grossgriechenland’, RM 91, 359–387. Schauenburg K. 1962, ‘Gestirnbilder in Athen und Unteritalien’, AntK 5 51–56. Schauenburg K. 1958, ‘Die Totengoetter in der Unteritalischen Vasenmalerei’, JdI 73, 48–78. Schauenburg K. 1953, ‘Pluton und Dionysos’, JdI 68, 38–72. Schmidt M. 2000, ‘Aufbruch oder Verharren in der Unterwelt? Nochmals zu den apulischen Vasenbildern mit Darstellungen des Hades’, AK 43, 86–99. Schmidt M. (1974), ‘Orfeo e orfismo nella pittura vascolare italiota’, Atti del quattordicesimo Convegno degli Studi sulla Magna Grecia, Taranto, 105–37. Sekita K. 2016, The Figure of Hades/Plouton in Greek Beliefs of the Archaic and Classical Periods, DPhil Diss., University of Oxford, 2016. Smith H.R.W. 1972, Funerary Symbolism in Apulian Vase-Painting, Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press Taplin O. 2007, Pots and Plays. Interactions between Tragedy and Greek Vase-painting of the Fourth Century BC, Los Angeles: J. Paul Getty Museum. Taplin O. 2014, ‘How Pots and Papyri Might Prompt a ReEvaluation of Fourth-Century Tragedy’, in E. Csapo, H.R. Goette, J.R. Green, P. Wilson (eds.), Greek Theatre in the Fourth Century B. C., Berlin/Boston: Walter de Gruyter GmbH, 141–55. Todisco L. (ed.) 2012, La ceramica a figure rosse della Magna Grecia e della Sicilia, Roma : “L’Erma” di Bretschneider. Todisco L. (ed.) 2003, La ceramica figurata a soggetto tragico in Magna Grecia e in Sicilia, Roma: Gorgio Bretschneider Editore. Tzifopoulos Y. 2010, ‘Paradise’ Earned. The Bacchic-Orphic Gold Lamellae of Crete, Cambridge MA & London: Center for Hellenic Studies, Trustees for Harvard University Washington, D.C. Ustinova Y 2002, ‘Either a Daimon, or a Hero, or Perhaps a God: Mythical Residents of Subterranean Chambers’, Kernos 15, 267–288. Villing A. 2014, ‚Dangerous Perfection and an Old Puzzle Resolved: A New Apulian Krater Inspired by Euripides’ Antiope’ BICS 57, 61–78.

Bibliography Bernabé A. 2009, ‘Imago Inferorum Orphica’, in G. Casadio, P.A. Johnston, Mystic Cults in Magna Graecia, Austin: University of Texas Press, 95–130. Bernabé A., Jiménez San Cristóbal (2007), Instructions for the Netherworld. The Orphic Gold Tablets, Leiden - Boston: Brill. Carpenter T.H. 2014, ‘A Case for Greek Tragedy in Italic Settlements in Fourth-Century B.C.E. Apulia’, in Carpenter T.H., Lynch K.M., Robinson E.G.D. (eds.), The Italic People of Ancient Apulia. New Evidence from Pottery for Workshops, Markets, and Customs, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 265–80. Carpenter T.H. 2009, ‘Prolegomenon to the Study of Apulian Red-Figure Pottery’, AJA 113, 27–38. Carpenter T.H., Lynch K.M., Robinson E.G.D. (eds.) 2014, The Italic People of Ancient Apulia. New Evidence from Pottery for Workshops, Markets, and Customs, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Carter J.C. 1975, The Sculpture of Taras, Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society. Ciancio A. 1997, Silbíon. Una città tra greci e indigeni: la documentazione archeologica dal territorio di Gravina in Puglia dall‘ottavo al quinto secolo a.C., Bari. Graf F.1993, ‘Dionysian and Orphic Eschatology: New Texts and Old Questions’, in T.H. Carpenter and C.A. Faraone (eds.), Masks of Dionysus, Ithaca & London: Cornell University Press, 239–58. Graf F., Johnston S.I. 2013, Ritual Texts for the Afterlife. Orpheus and the Bacchic Gold Tablets, London and New York: Routledge. Guthrie W.K.C. 1935, Orpheus and Greek Religion. A Study of the Orphic Movement, London: Methuen. Johnston S.I., McNiven T.J. 1996, ‘Dionysos and the Underworld in Toledo’, Mus. Helv. 56, 25–36. Lohmann H. 1986, ‘Der Mythos von Amphiaraos auf apulischen Vasen’, Boreas 9, 65–82. Lohmann H. 1982, ‘Zu technischen Besonderheiten apulischer Vasen’, JdI 97, 191–249. Moret J.-M. 1993, ‘Les départs des enfers dans l‘imagerie apulienne’, Rev. Arch. 2, 293–351. Pensa M. (1977), Rappresentazioni dell’oltretomba nella ceramica apula, Roma: L’Erma di Bretschneider.

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Geryon in Tatarli1 Malcolm Davies There are several painted chamber tombs in Anatolia, mainly in the northwest or southwest (Lycia) rendered in a style which blends sub-archaic Greek and oriental …The wooden built-tomb types are in the traditional Lydian/ Phrygian style and offer on their painted walls subjects ranging from Greek myth to scenes of Persians fighting ‘natives’. John Boardman, The Greeks in Asia (London 2015) pp. 36-7

These words from one of our honorand’s most recent masterpieces of lucid synthesis aptly set the scene for what follows. That scene is actually ancient Phrygia. But first a little antiquarianism. Pausanias 1.35.7 relates how, in the area of upper Lydia, there is a city called ‘the doors of Temenos’, where the splitting open of a mound had revealed bones of more than human size. Local tradition, says Pausanias, claimed them as the bones of Geryon, but Pausanias knew a trick worth two of that. He was perfectly well aware that the three bodied cattle –owner, on the contrary, inhabited an island in the far west, and, by quizzing the local guides (exegetae), Pausanias compelled them to admit the bones were in fact those of Hyllus, son of the Earth. The aim of this article is not to rehabilitate those long-refuted and long-dead local guides. But it will in a sense locate Geryon in Asia Minor. Let me explain.1

Figure 1. Wooden beams from Tatarli tumulus grave.

Re-cleaning of the relevant painted wooden beams (Figure 1) from the 5th century B.C. tumulus grave unearthed at Tatarli in modern Turkey (the town is to the east of ancient Sardis in Lydia) revealed a surprise. Contrary to initial interpretation, the scene which is our topic and which was painted on the longest and best preserved timber of the rear wall transpired to represent the combat between Heracles and the threebodied Geryon which occurred when the former came to rustle the cattle of the latter as his tenth labour. Even after this re-cleaning the fresco is still distressingly hard to read, and a digital reconstruction (Figures 2-3) is a very handy aid in need. But even on the original (Figure 4), the characteristic paw of Heracles’ lion-skin, dangling between the hero’s legs, and the remains of Geryon’s two-headed dog Orthrus which Heracles killed preliminary to the duel with his master, are legible and would be sufficient in themselves to secure the identification of the scene. And now, for the first time, sense can be made of

the six cattle positioned to the left of the combat scene and portrayed as moving leftwards. Remarkably, they are winged, a feature to which I shall return at the end. The schema of the whole depiction closely resembles the representation of the same scene on the late seventh century B.C. bronze pectoral (a horse’s breastplate) from Samos,2 which is the oldest example of the story in visual art known to us thus far (Figure 5).

The key document, crucial for an understanding of all aspects of the Tatarli Tomb, is Lȃtife Summerer and Alexander von Keinlin (edd.), Tatarli: the Return of Colours (Istanbul 2010), hereafter ‘Colours’, a volume originally accompanying the exhibition which displayed the newlycleaned material. On the Geryon fresco in particular the contribution by L. Summerer pp.144 ff.is all-important (on page 148 for ‘Eurystos’ as imposer of the labour read ‘Eurystheus’). On the Geryon story in art see P. Brize, Die Geryoneis des Stesichoros und die frühe gr. Kunst (1980) and his article in LIMC IV (1988) s.v. ‘Geryoneus,’ pp.186-190. Also the article under the same heading in LIMC Supplbd. I (2009) pp.218–220 by A. Kossatz-Deissmann. Interesting recent comments on the tale and its diffusion are to be found in The Cambridge Prehistory of the Bronze and Iron Age (A. B. Knapp and P. van Dommelen, edd., 2015), ch.16 ‘Myth into art: foreign Impulses and local responses in Archaic Cypriot sanctuaries’ by D. B. Counts.

2 

The uncovering of the tomb in the wake of the almost inevitable grave-robbers of 1969 had already produced other surprises than subject- matter. ‘The Tatarli tumulus provides the latest example of a Phrygian-style tomb and the only surviving painted wooden tomb-chamber from antiquity.’3 Why did the scene of Geryon and Heracles strike artist or patron as an appropriate theme for decorating a grave? The latter’s ‘name will never be known, but the decoration of the tomb shows that his identity was at least partly defined by his See P. Brize, ‘Samos und Stesichoros: zu einem früharchaischen Bronzeblech’, Athenische Mitteilungen 100 (1985) 53-90: this is LIMC (1988) as above, A 1. As Summerer points out (pp.148 ff.), ‘the position of the cattle, the combat between Heracles and Geryon, the twoheaded dog Orthrus, and the birds and plants correspond. The herder Eurytion, who was killed by Heracles, may have been situated on the ground as some black colour traces suggest’. 3  C. Tuplin in Colours p.188. The quotation that follows is from p.192. Note also Summerer, Colours p.150: ‘the evidence of a Greek myth being used on a Phrygian tomb monument of the fifth century B.C. changes our view of the visual culture of inner Anatolia since some scholars have concluded that in the fifth century Greek elements disappeared from the art of Anatolia due to strong Persian influence’. The dating to c.470 B.C. is based on dendrochronological analysis and ‘wiggle matching’.

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Figures 2-3. Digital reconstructions of mythological fresco from Tatarli tomb chamber, north wall: from Summerer, Colours figs. 17 and 18 relationship to the Persian rulers of Phrygia: that is why the walls are adorned with a victory of Persians over Scythians… and by a procession in which everyone wears Persian garb’ . The author of these words goes on to confess a well-founded aporia as to whether the deceased was in fact himself Persian. A scholar who has written on the actual wall paintings deems that the winged aspect of the cattle ‘might have been an invention of the local Phrygian painters although we do not know the pattern-book of the Tatarli scene. The spiral-like form of the horns and the straight wings of the cattle are surely adopted from a Phrygian art convention’.4 4 

Turning from these imponderables we sight some firm ground on which to alight. There is a great deal of evidence to prove two intimately connected facts: that (a) Heracles’ killing of Geryon and rustling of his cattle symbolise yet another of his conquests of Death; and that (b) Geryon himself was originally a death-demon or Lord of the Underworld. Fortunately, I have dealt with both issues in great detail elsewhere,5 so I here need supply merely a summary of the evidence. poor execution of the painting…suggest[s] that we are dealing with an ordinary artisan, rather than an innovative artist’. 5  See in particular my article ‘Stesichorus’ Geryoneis and its folk-tale roots’, CQ 38 (1988) 277-290, hereafter ‘Davies’. (Much the same points

Summerer, Colours p.150. Cf. Tuplin, Colours pp. 190-2: ‘the relatively

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Figure 4. Original mythological fresco after cleaning: from E. Emmerling, S. Demeter, M. Knidlberger, Colours fig.10

Figure 5. Bronze pectoral from Samos, late seventh century B.C.: New Archeological Museum, Samos Inv. A775: from Brize, Athenische Mitteilungen 100 (1985) fig.1 b The tenth labour of Heracles, like the eleventh (the winning of the golden apples of the Hesperides, the fruits that confer immortality), is clearly another version of the hero’s conquest of death, a motif more transparently presented in his last labour, the katabasis to the Underworld to bring back Cerberus. Other versions of this achievement include his wresting back of Alcestis from Thanatos; his wrestling with personified Old Age on Greek vases; and his rescuing of Hesione from the sea-monster that threatened Troy.6 The

journey over water to encounter an ogre on a remote island7 in the far West, culminating in his defeat of Geryon, all buttress this interpretation, that Heracles’ labour is a thinly disguised Jenseitsfahrt, culminating in his defeat of the death- demon.

Heracles and personified Old Age Davies p.279 n.15; and for the story of Hesione and its representation of Heracles plunging into the monster’s maw and hacking his way out as a version of katabasis and resurrection see my remarks in ‘Heracles and Jonah’, SIFC 1 (2003) 136-43. 7  For the folk-tale notion of the Island of the Dead see Davies p.280 n.19 (adding to the references K. Horn’s article s.v. in Enzyklopädie des Märchens (7.194 ff.) and H.R. Patch, The Otherworld according to descriptions in Medieval Literature (1980), Index s.v. ‘Island’).

were made independently and almost simultaneously by Colette Jourdan-Annequin, Héracle aux Portes du Soir (Paris 1989)).See now also M. Davies and P. Finglass, Stesichorus: the Poems (Cambridge 2014) pp.230 ff. 6  For the Alcestis story see Davies p.279 n.14; for vase paintings of

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Figure 6. Fresco, last quarter of third century B.C. showing Geryon in company of Hades and Persephone: from Tomba dell’ Orco II, Tarquinia For (b), that Geryon was initially just such a being is also as clear as day.8 Geryon’s dog Orthus, slain by Heracles at the beginning of his cattle raid, was actually a cousin of Cerberus, and represents a version of the Hound of Hell.9 Eurytion, his herdsman, next killed, was that primeval folk-tale figure the Herdsman of the Dead (a figure to whom we shall return later), like Geryon the cattle-owner himself. The three deaths at Heracles’ hands represent a tricolon crescendo, as the hero successively disposes of three beings each with much the same function. The killing of Geryon represents the climax.

underworld and deduces that ‘in death, when placed in the tomb, the bronze hero presumably brightened related occasions in the afterlife.’ Perhaps, it continues, this was ‘another manifestation of Attic culture …to find favour in classical Etruria’, and concludes that ‘the theme of the weary Heracles had strong appeal for an Etruscan aristocracy sympathetic to many aspects of Greek culture…Victor in the trials of this world and a mortal who achieved immortality, the bronze must have offered hope to the living even as he was relegated to the company of the dead’.

This discussion so far has largely been confined to literary evidence. We move on to the visual as the next stage of the argument when we recall that Geryon and Heracles both feature separately from each other in tombs, Etruscan tombs as it happens. Geryon is depicted on one of the wall frescoes in the famous Tomba dell’ Orco at Corneto,10 in the company of a labelled Hades and Persephone, or rather Aita and Phersipnai, the former equipped with a wolf- head cap, the latter with a garland of snakes. (Geryon himself is labelled Cerun and is portrayed as wearing hoplite armour.) (Figure 6) As for Heracles, he is featured, resting after a labour, in the form of a statuette serving as finial decoration on a number of fifth or fourth century B.C. bronze candelabra from Etruscan tombs (Figure 7). A useful study of these (with illustrations) in connection with an example now in the Fogg Museum, Harvard,11 compares their function at feasts in life and the

With this last sentence we are already close to an understanding of the function of Heracles’ overcoming of Geryon in the Tatarli tomb fresco. We are left with the question why the cattle of Geryon should be depicted, in a manner that is absolutely unique, as winged. Geryon himself is so depicted both in Stesichorus’ Geryoneis and on several Greek vases (e.g. the Chalcidian black figure amphora that is LIMC C16 (Figure 8)) and winged death- demons are not without parallel.12 But nowhere else are his cattle said or shown to have had wings. In searching for an answer we can at once exclude a literal interpretation. Heracles had enough trouble getting the cattle back to Greece in normal circumstances: some were stolen – by Cacus- and had to be rescued; others were stampeded when Hera, the hero’s jealous stepmother, sent a gadfly to sting them.13 If they could have flown away, Heracles would never have recovered them.

For the evidence in general see Davies pp. 278-82, and more recently J. McInernet, The Cattle of the Sun: Cows and Culture in the World of the Ancient Greeks (Oxford 2010), Index s.v. ‘Geryon’, esp. pp.102-112. 9  For Orthus as infernal hound and doublet of Cerberus see Davies p.281 n.24. 10  LIMC (1988) as above, D 25. 11  E. Hottester, ‘A weary Heracles at Harvard’, HSCP 91 (1987) 367-80. The quotations that follow come from pp.373, 378 and 379 f. respectively. I have investigated further aspects of the weary Heracles motif in BICS 49 (2006) 105-40, where at p.115 n.48 I supply

bibliography of lists of artefacts showing this motif. 12  For Hades as winged see Eur. Alc. 259-62; also 843-4 (if Musgrave’s conjecture μελάμπτερον for μελάμπεπλον be correct: for arguments in its favour see L. P. E. Parker’s commentary ad loc.).For the wings of Death see further Nisbet and Hubbard’s commentary on Horace Odes 2.17.24.For an instance of a winged Geryon in vase painting see e.g.the Chalcidian vase that is LIMC C 16 [fig.8]. 13  See the article by me cited n.10 p.137.

8 

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Figure 7. Fifth or fourth century B.C.finial statuette on Etruscan candelabra, Tomb 58 C, Valle Pega, Spina: Museo Nazionale Archeologico di Ferrrara, Inv. 26677: from E. Hottester, HSCP 91 (1985) 371

Figure 8. Chalcidian black figure amphora from south Italy c. 540 B.C.: Paris, Cab. Méd. 202

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of another hero, to wit, Jesus Christ. The two figures may initially seem to differ toto caelo, but in fact they have several features in common. Both had a deity as father; both encountered in early life a demonic figure or figures (Satan in the wilderness, Virtue and Vice at the Crossroad) relating to the hero’s choice of life; both died on a mountain top and then ascended to heaven.17 The myth that I am about to mention supplies another parallel. It does not feature in the New Testament but it later became very popular, especially in the medieval period: the Descensus Christi ad Infernum or Harrowing of Hell.18 (Figure 9) According to this story, Christ spent the weekend between crucifixion and resurrection by descending to the Underworld and rescuing from Satan’s clutch several favoured souls, beginning with Adam and Eve. If Geryon’s cattle originally symbolised such souls, the match between Heracles’ removal of cattle and Christ’s rescue of souls becomes very close. The parallel becomes even closer if we consider the account at Vergil Aeneid 8.190 ff. of Heracles’ retrieval of the cattle of Geryon stolen by Cacus, bearing in mind that Cacus is a doublet of Geryon.19 The flooding in of light when the hero breaks his way into Cacus’ gloomy lair is compared by Vergil to the effect when light erupts into the Underworld: non secus ac si qua penitus vi terra dehiscens /infernas reseret sedes et regna recludat/ pallida, dis invisa, superque barathrum cernatur. In the case both of Heracles and of Christ we have here what I have elsewhere20 called ‘the quest of the hero of light who enters the land of darkness to defeat death’. Figure 9. Sebastiano del Piombo, Descensus Christi: Museo Nazionale dal Prado, Madrid, P 00346

That human souls are winged is, of course, a belief held world-wide.21 The closest parallel for such mythological symbolism in an Anatolian grave would be from the painted chamber tomb at Kizilbel in Northern Lycia,22 where ‘one gorgon, winged and grinning, …

The answer is to be found, I believe, in an aspect of the story that I have not yet considered. This particular labour of Heracles represents a conquest of death on two levels. Firstly, as already shown, Heracles’ vanquishing of Geryon - and of his dog, and of his herdsman- stands for just such a conquest. But there is a further aspect in that the cattle of Geryon, Herdsman of the Dead,14 stand for human souls15 whom Heracles rescues from the grip of the death- demon. Defeats of Death often contain this element: a hero’s katabasis to the Underworld frequently involves his bringing back of at least one human soul. I have already mentioned Heracles’ rescue of Alcestis from the grips of Thanatos. Heracles’ final labour not merely had him wrestling and defeating the herdsman of Hades:16 he also brought back the hero Theseus. Geryon’s original role as Herdsman of the Dead, mentioned above, is very relevant here. The rescuing of a whole group of dead souls may seem a different prospect from the examples cited, but it does find a parallel in the career

See in general Davies p.290.For correspondences between the Annunciation passage in the Gospel of Luke and Tiresias’ prophecy to Alcmena at Theocr. Id. 24.73 ff. see R. G. M. Nisbet, BICS 25 (1978) 65 = Collected Papers p.61 and n.74. Alcmena provides another parallel between Heracles and Christ, since the mothers of both heroes were spirited away from their tomb after death (see Davies p.290 n.76). 18  On this see D.-R. Moser’s articles in Enzylopädie des Märchens s.vv. ‘Christus 3.2 Höllenfahrt und Auferstehung’ (2.1419 f.) and ‘Hölle 2.2 Höllenfahrt Christi’ (6.1186), Davies p.290, and my further more recent remarks in ‘Variazioni su un tema di katabasis’, Eikasmos 19 (2008) 263-271(with notes). I supply as fig.9 a depiction of the event by Sebastiano del Piombo, dated 1516: see M. Wivel, Michelangelo and Sebastiano (Yale 2017) pp. 128-132. 19  See Davies p.287 and the last article cited in the previous note, p.267 f. 20  On p.271 of the article cited in n.18. 21  See e.g. Th. H. Gaster, Myth, Legend, and Custom in the Old Testament (London 1968) pp.769 and 850, J. Bremmer, The Early Greek Concept of the Soul (Princeton 1983) p.94 and n.61, M. Davies and J. Kathirithamby, Greek Insects (London 1986) General Index s.v. ‘soul in form of insect’. 22  I am of course aware that winged bulls were a frequent motif in ancient near eastern art, but more often than not they were also human-headed 17 

On the Herdsman of the Dead see Davies p.279 f. and McInernet as in n.5 15  For the cattle as representing dead human souls see Davies p.280 n.17, 16  According to the mythographer Apollodorus 2.5. See the article by me in Eikasmos cited n.17 below, p.267 and nn. 4 and 7. 14 

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appears next to Chrysaor and Pegasus, freshly sprung from the adjacent decapitated Medusa, a scene with particular relevance in Lycia that suggests birth and the promise of life after death’.23

Davies, M. and J. Kathirithamby 1986. Greek Insects, London. Davies, M. 1988. Stesichorus’ Geryoneis and its folk-tale roots’, CQ 28: 277-290. Davies, M. 2003. ‘Heracles and Jonah’, SIFC 1: 136-43. Davies, M. 2006. ‘Thirsty work for Heracles: Propertius IV 9 and the folk-tale,’ BICS 49: 105-133. Davies, M. 2008. ‘Variazioni su un tema di Katabasis’ : Eikasmos 19: 263-71. Davies, M. and P. Finglass 2014. Stesichorus: the Poems, Cambridge. Enzylopädie des Märchens 1977-2015. Berlin/New York. Fontenrose, J. 1959. Python Los Angeles. Gaster, Th.H. 1968. Myth, Legend, and Custom in the Old Testament, London. Hottester, E. 1987. ‘A weary Heracles at Harvard’, HSCP 91: 36780. Jourdan-Annequin, P. 1989. Héracle aux Portes du Soir Paris. McInernet, J. 2010. The Cattle of the Sun: Cows and Culture in the World of the Ancient Greeks, Oxford. Nisbet, R.G.M. 1978. ‘Vergil’s Fourth Eclogue: Easterners and Westerners’, BICS 25: 59-78 = in Harrison, S.J. 1995. Collected Papers on Latin Literature pp. 47-75, Oxford. Nisbet, R.G.M. and M. Hubbard, 1978. A commentary on Horace Odes 2, Oxford. Parker, L.P.E. 2007. A Commentary on Euripides Alcestis, Oxford. Patch, H.R. 1980. The Otherworld according to descriptions in Medieval Literature Summerer, L. 2010. In L. Summerer and A. von Kienlin, Tatarli: the Return of Colours, Istanbul. Wivel, M. 2017. Michelangelo and Sebastiano, pp. 128-132. Yale.

An heroic defeat of death and darkness, the rescuing of human souls.24 These motifs conjure up the words HPAKΛEIOI ΠONOI, which phrase might, in fact, easily be applied to the achievements of someone else. It is not merely his authorship of the LIMC article on Heracles but his whole career that encourages this reflection; and one is only deterred from making the comparison by the consideration that he would not wish to crown his career with anything remotely resembling a life of ease.25 Bibliography Boardman, J. 2015. The Greeks in Asia Minor, London. Bremmer, J. 1983. The Early Greek Concept of the Soul, Princeton. Brize, P. 1980. Die Geryoneis des Stesichoros und die frühe gr.Kunst. Brize, P. 1985. ‘Samos und Stesichoros: zu einem früharchaische Bronzblech’, Athenische Mitteilungen 100: 53-90. Burkert, W. 1987. ‘Oriental and Greek Mythology: the meeting of parallels’ in J. Bremmer (ed.), Interpretations of Greek Mythology pp.10-40 = in M.L. Gemelli Marciano 2003. Kleine Schriften 2: pp. 48-72, Göttingen. Counts, D.B. 2015.‘Colonisation and Cultural Developments in the Central Mediterranean’, in A.B. Knapp and P. van Dommen, The Cambridge Prehistory of the Bronze and Iron Age, Cambridge.

and served as tutelary genies (shedu or lamassu) which guarded city or palace gates, e.g. at Khorsabad during the reign of Sargon II (721-05 B.C.): see the five-legged example now in the Louvre, Richelieu Wing, Room 4. These do not seem particularly close to the bulls we are considering. Winged bulls with bulls’ heads do feature on neo-Assyrian Cylinder seals, e.g. the instance in the Walters Art Museum, Baltimore, Second Floor, but the wings in such cases have been interpreted as a sign of divine power, which again seems irrelevant for our specimens. They might, however, have been a remote inspiration for a motif put to a new use. On cylinder seals as typical of the Persians as ‘great bureaucrats’ see Boardman’s The Greeks in Asia cited as epigraph to the present article, pp. 33-6. 23  S.G. Miller, Colours p.322. 24  For Perseus’ quest for the head of Medusa as another Jenseitsfahrt and heroic conquest of death see J. Fontenrose, Python (Los Angeles 1959) pp.285 f., 291, 293, 298 etc. Incidentally, Chrysaor was the father of Geryon and probably featured on an Attic vase dated c.510 B.C.(LIMC Supplbd. 2009 I. B add.3) depicting his son’s combat with Heracles, there uniquely replacing Geryon’s mother Callirhoe in her more usual role as the concerned observer of the duel. 25  Interestingly suggestive of a long-standing Asia Minor interest in Heracles and his victory over Death is the bronze sculptural composition dated c. 1400-1000 B.C. from a cemetery at Shiravakam in North West Armenia on the Turkish border which shows two figures each positioned on the top of one of two branches that emerge symmetrically from a short tree-trunk. One figure is human and equipped with shield, belt, and bow, and holds a leash in the shape of a chain. At the other end of this is a mastiff, which coupling has suggested the story of Heracles’ fetching of Cerberus from the underworld. See Burkert, ‘Oriental and Greek Mythology: the meeting of parallels ‘, in J. Bremmer (ed.), Interpretations of Greek Mythology (London 1987) p. 29 = Kl. Schr. 2. 69.

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New Identifications of Heroes and Heroines on the West Pediment of the Parthenon: The Case of P, Q, and R Ioannis Mitsios

Figure 1. West pediment, drawing by M. Cox The sculptures of the west pediment of the Parthenon, featuring what is possibly the earliest depiction of the contest between Athena and Poseidon for the land of Attica, were first described by Pausanias (1.24.5).1 Morosini’s bombardment of the Parthenon in 1687 caused severe and irreversible damage to the pediment, leaving only three figures in relatively good condition (A, B, C). Thanks to the Nointel artist, identified by most scholars with Jacques Carrey, we have drawings of the pediment dating to 1674, thirteen years prior to Morosini’s bombardment, which allows us a safe reconstruction and reading of the scene (Figure 1).2 The sculptures have attracted much attention for almost two centuries, following the ground-breaking studies by Michaelis and Furtwängler, which arguably remain fundamental for modern scholarship.3 Figure 2. Alternative identification of the group of heroic figures

The poor preservation of the figures, the lack of physical attributes and their questionable identity, leave much room for new identifications and fruitful discussions.4 While all scholars tend to agree on the identification of the Gods of the pediment, there is an ongoing debate on the identity of the heroes.5 It seems that the presence of heroes is of great importance for the reading of the scene, providing the key to the interpretation of the contest’s narrative context.

Bearing in mind the: i) undeniably strong kourotrophic message on the west pediment, ii) the topographic association of the contest episode with the cults of the Erechtheion and the cult of heroes on the Acropolis, iii) the literary sources and the iconography of heroes who were worshiped on the Acropolis, iv) their connection with the protagonist deities, and, v) the Athenocentric ideology of autochthony in the classical period, we propose an alternative identification of the group of heroic figures (P, Q, R,) from the west pediment (Figure 2).

This paper is my first, among a series of papers I am preparing, on the west pediment of the Parthenon. I would like to thank the following scholars, listed in alphabetical order, who have generously provided their invaluable assistance and with whom I have had fruitful discussions: Professor Judith Barringer, Professor Jeffrey Hurwit, Associate Professor Iphigeneia Leventi, Dr. Caspar Meyer, Professor Jenifer Neils, Emeritus Professor Robert Parker, Emeritus Professor Michalis Tiverios, Professor Panos Valavanis. 2  For the Nointel Artist and the drawings see Bowie and Thimme 1971. 3  Michaelis 1870/1; Furtwängler 1895. 4  For a table of identifications up to 1963 see Brommer 1963, 182. 5  For a table of identifications up to 1993 see Palagia 1993, 61. 1 

The figures P, Q, R, form part of a group with the female figure (Q) being accompanied by a pair of standing boys (P, R). What has survived from the group, except Carrey’s drawing, is Q’s draped legs, carved in one piece with Q’s thighs (Figure 3) and P’s torso (Figure 4).6 The iconographic (and kourotrophic) 6 

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Q: British Museum. 1816,0610.106; P: British Museum. 1816,0610.319.

Ioannis Mitsios – New Identifications of Heroes and Heroines on the West Pediment of the Parthenon

relationship between the figures, as depicted in Carrey’s drawing and as proven by the carving itself, is more than obvious and is even attested, confirmed and strengthened by the smallest iconographic detail.7 Almost every single scholar tends to believe that the depicted figures represent Oreithyia (Q) and her sons, the Boreads (P and R), Zetes and Kalais.8 Both in Carrey’s drawing and in the surviving figures (P and R,) the figures appear wingless, lacking their most basic iconographic attribute, a fact that makes the usual identification questionable and problematic. It has been noted that sometimes in the iconography the Boreads are depicted wingless but it seems that this was not the case on the west pediment of the Parthenon.9 The depiction of the wingless Boreads seems that clashes with the depiction of Iris (Figure N), who had marble wings, attached to her back.10 The depiction of wingless Boreads also contrasts with the sculptor’s iconographic intentions, especially if we take into consideration the depiction of Kekrops (Figure B)who is identified by the snake attached on the base, a fact that shows the sculptor’s intention to depict iconographic characteristics that allow the instant identification of the figures.11 Similar iconographic problems seems to apply to Q’s identification as Oreithyia. The agitated drapery of the Figure Q, seemingly ruffled by the wind, has been explained as an indication, as well as a metaphor, identifying her with Oreithyia, who was abducted by Boreas.12 While this theory seems appealing in view of its mythological background, it does not seem to suggest any kind of strong iconographic evidence, since other figures on the west pediment have equal drapery (cf. the billowing drapery under the left arm of Amphitrite for instance).13 The suggestion that the figure Q may have stood on a high stepped seat/an indication of a stepped altar, a feature that has been interpreted as an iconographic- rather than topographic indication, suggests a further relation of Q’s figure with cult.14 While this is very likely, it does not clash with our proposed identification. The cultic persona of the figure Q- which we identify with Zeuxippe, cannot be questioned and

Figure 3. Q’s draped legs

Brommer 1963, 50-1, 168-9, plates 119-21; Palagia 1993, 49, plates 109-11. 7  Palagia 1993 49, notes that the three fingers of P’s right hand have left a mark on Q’s right knee. 8  Brommer 1963, 168-9; Becatti 1965, 75; Fuchs 1967, 170; Harrison 1967, 9 n.55; Weidauer 1985, 206; Palagia 1993, 50; 2005, 251. The only scholars who do not accept this identification include Jeppesen 1963, 81 who identifies the figures P, Q ,R with Otos, Iphimedeia and Ephialtes, the Aloads offspring of Poseidon along with their mother and Spaeth 1993, 348, 352-3, who attributes the figures of the right side of the pediment to the royal house of Eleusis, identifying figure Q with Iphimedeia, although without providing any further identification of the figures P and R. Connelly 2014, 113 agrees with the proposed reading of Spaeth and the connection with Eleusis. 9  Palagia 1993, 50, 58 n. 179. 10  The torso of Iris survives in the British Museum 1816,0610.96. 11  British Museum 1816. 6-10.104. There is a debate regarding the date of the preserved snake, which may be a roman repair, but the existence of a classical predecessor has not been questioned. Harrison 1990, 170; Palagia 1993, 42 are in favor of a classical, while Cook 1988, 7; Berger 1977, 138 n. 56 of a roman date. For the identification of figure B with Kekrops see Jeppesen 1963, 75; Becatti 1965, 76-7; Harrison 1967, 9 n. 55; Spaeth 1991, 345; Palagia 1993, 42; Hurwit 1999, 176; 2004, 129; Shear 2016, 116; Mitsios 2018, 201-3 12  Palagia 2005, 251. 13  I thank Professor Jenifer Neils for this observation and suggestion. 14  Palagia 1993, 49-50; 2005, 251.

Figure 4. P’s torso

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was of equal, or greater importance, compared to Oreithyia, providing the mythological ancestors (through her son, Boutes) of the priesthoods of the most important cults of the Acropolis and possibly being herself a mythological priestess of Athena Polias.15 Last but not least, it has to be noted that even scholars who accept the identification with the Boreads and Oreithyia, admit the lack of the previous iconographic depiction of the episode in that (kourotrophic) context, more specifically Oreithyia being accompanied by the Boreads.16 This fact, according to my reading, further weakens the depictions of the Boreads and Oreithyia- especially taking into consideration the major importance of kourotrophic episodes in the sculpture of the west pediment, the kourotrophic myths connected with the heroes and heroines worshipped on the Acropolis- as well as the topography, the iconography and the festivals from the Acropolis.17 Bearing that in mind, we have to look for figures connected with kourotrophy, either by iconography or by myth.

(3.15.1), he informs us that when King Pandion died, his sons, Erechtheus and Boutes, divided their father’s inheritance between them, and Erechtheus received the kingdom, while Boutes was awarded the priesthood of Athena and Poseidon Erechtheus. Both Erechtheus and Boutes are major heroes of Athens, directly linked with the cults of the Acropolis itself and the goddess Athena, since they both were objects of cult in the Erechtheion, according to the testimony of Pausanias (1.26.5). Erechtheus, in fact, seems to be the oldest of heroes worshipped on the Acropolis, given that his cultic status and his relation to the goddess Athena is already attested in Homer (Odyssey 2.546-51; Iliad 7.80-1).20 Being the hero of the Acropolis par excellence, King Erechtheus has a plethora of mythological patterns and motifs surrounding him.21 It is no coincidence that, according to several literary sources, the Athenians called themselves ‘Erechtheidai’, offspring of King Erechtheus, paying homage to the most important and prominent hero of Athens.22 One of the main characteristics of Erechtheus and what actually concerns us the mostregarding the iconographic examination of the Figures P, Q ,R, is Athena’s nurture of Erechtheus in her temple- which suggests a kourotrophic context and a connection with autochthony (Iliad, 2.547-8: ‘Ἐρεχθῆος μεγαλήτορος, ὅν ποτ᾽ Ἀθήνη θρέψε Διὸς θυγάτηρ, τέκε δὲ ζείδωρος ἄρουρα’), as well as Erechtheus’ and Athena’s association in cult (Iliad. 2.549-61: ‘κὰδ δ᾽ ἐν Ἀθήνῃς εἷσεν ἑῷ ἐν πίονι νηῷ: ἔνθα δέ μιν ταύροισι καὶ ἀρνειοῖς ἱλάονται κοῦροι Ἀθηναίων περιτελλομένων ἐνιαυτῶν’).

That being said, the identification of the depicted figures is not based on strong iconographic evidence but rather on the testimonies deriving from the literary sources, which connect the myth of Boreas and Oreithyia with the Acropolis of Athens and the help of the wind Boreas in favor of the Greeks, during the Persian wars, causing disaster to the Persian fleet.18 As indicated by both literary and iconographic evidence, there must have been an interest in the myth of Boreas and Oreithyia in Athens and a possible reshaping and connection of the myth with the city of Athens, specifically after the Persian wars.19 In the absence of any strong and clear iconographic evidence from the surviving figures of the west pediment, the identification of the figures with the Boreads and Oreithyia of course cannot be completely rejected. After all, they are indirectly connected- through mythology- with the Acropolis of Athens. Nevertheless I suggest that there is at least an equal, if not greater, possibility that the depicted figures represent Zeuxippe (Q), along with her sons Boutes (P) and Erechtheus (R).

There are several attic vase paintings alluding to Athena’s cultic and kourotrophic connection with Erechtheus and the fact that most of these vases come from the Acropolis itself, suggests a strong association between the mythological episode, the iconography and topography of the Acropolis. A red figure kylix, dating to the mid 5th century and attributed to the Penthesilea Painter depicts Athena and Erechtheus (Figure 5).23 Athena wears a diadem, and she seems to hold a spear with her left hand. Next to Athena stands a boy, Erechtheus, drinking, with both hands, from a phiale- a detail that shows the undeniably cultic context of the scene. Just above Erechtheus’ head is an owl, standing on an olive branch, further strengthening the cultic context of the scene and it seems that other iconographic elements

Apollodorus (3.14.8) in one of his passages, informs us that Pandion, King of Athens, married his mother’s sister, Zeuxippe and had two sons, Erechtheus and Boutes. In another passage See pages 482-5. The assumption of Zeuxippe being a priestess of Athena Polias although not attested in the literary sources is drawn from her connection with the genos of Eteoboutadai- who provided the priestess of Athena Polias, as well as her parallel motifs and patters with other mythological figures of the Acropolis, which were attested as mythological priestesses of the goddess. 16  Brommer 1963, 168-9. For the complete lack of the episode in the iconography see LIMC III (1986), s.v. Boreadai no. 40. 17  For the importance of kourotrophy on the architectural sculpture of the west pediment and the kourotrophic myths connected with the heroes and heroines, as well as the topography, the festivals and the iconography of the Acropolis see pages 480-4 below. 18  Acusilaus ap. Schol. Hom. Od. 14.533 (FGrH 2 F30) mentions that that the abduction of Oreithyia by Boread took place while she was sacrificing at the temple of Athena Polias on the Acropolis, while Herodotus (7.189.3) mentions the establishment of a cult/sanctuary of Boreas, right after the end of the Persian wars, because of his help with the defeat of the Persians. 19  A very characteristic example is an amphora from Vulci, now in Munich (Munchen, Antikensammlungen 2345), dating to 480-470 B.C., which depicts Boreas and Oreithyia with the three daughters of Kekrops and Erechtheus, connecting Boreas and Oreithyia with the royal Athenian genealogy. ARV2 496,2; LIMC I (1981), s.v. Aglauros, Herse, Pandrosos no. 30; Kron 1976, 79-82, 92, 95, 99-100, 256 E54 Taf. 9; Shapiro 1995, 42. 15 

According to some scholars (Rosivach 1987, 295; Papachatzis 1989, 176) the Homeric Erechtheus is presented more like a god than a mortal. Contra Hadjizteliou-Price 1973,136 who mentions that the autochthonous birth of Erechtheus indicates his mortal nature. Kearns 1989, 133 remains neutral regarding this issue. 21  The bibliography on Erechtheus is extensive. On Erechtheus, Erichthonios and Poseidon Erechtheus as well as his connection with the Panathenaia, the apobatic race, the war between Athens and Eleusis and the cults of the Acropolis see: LIMC IV (1988), s.v. Erechtheus 923-951; Kron 1976, 32-82; Mikalson 1976; Robertson 1985; Kearns 1989, 110-2, 113-5, 160-1; Gantz 1993, 233-7; Frame 2009; Sourvinou- Inwood 2011, 51-94; Neils and Schultz 2012; Connelly 2014; Shear 2016, 124 n. 135, 157 and 157 n. 52, 159, 374-5, 384; Mitsios 2018, 102-34. 22  Pindar (Ishthmian 2.19); Sophocles (Aias 202); Euripides (Ion 24). 23  Ath. Nat. Mus. Akr. 396. For the examination of the kylix see: ARV 628,1; LIMC IV (1988), s.v. Erechtheus, no.34; Graef/Langlotz II Nr. 396; Καρδαρά 1966, 22-4; Kron 1976, 73-4. 254 E36 Taf. 8.1; Schefold 1981; Scheibler 1987, 115-6; Jenkins 1994, 37; Neils 2001, 176-7; Mitsios 2018, 147-52. 20 

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the offered nectar by the goddess.27 The fact that on both vases the Aglaurids, daughters of Kekrops, seems that they are not depicted, indicates that the kourotrophic context between Athena and Erechtheus could be clear, even with the absence of the daughters of Kekrops, in the iconography of the classical period.28 Returning to the examination of the figures P, Q, R, we notice that they form part of a triadic family group, similar to D, E, F, where the daughters of Kekrops, along with Erichthonios or Erysichthon, are depicted. Figures S and T, right next to P, Q, R also depict a boy with a woman, identified by most scholars with Ion and Kreousa and there is an undeniable kourotrophic message in the iconography of the west pediment of the Parthenon.29 In a diachronic examination of the iconography of classical Greece, Brunilde Ridgway notes that there is an unexpected depiction of children on the west pediment of the Parthenon.30 Bearing in mind the depiction of children in the west pediment of the Parthenon and the frieze of the Erechtheionwith the female and children figures being more than 50% of the total depicted figures-, it seems that there was a strong kourotrophic message in the iconography of the architectural sculpture of the Acropolis monuments. Kourotrophic myths are connected not only with the heroes of the Acropolis (Erechtheus and Erichthonios), but also with the topography of the Acropolis for it was at the Acropolis itself where Figure 5. Athena and Erechtheus, attributed to the Penthesilea Painter all these kourotrophic episodes took place.31 It seems that the Acropolis formed the ‘topos par excellence’ of the were pointing in that direction.24 In addition to the cultic kourotrophic message of classical Athens, since festivals, context of the scene, there are several iconographic elements as the Arrhephoria, bear a strong kourotrophic message.32 that suggest a kourotrophic connection with Athena. Athena wears a diadem, instead of a helmet, and is in a relaxed pose, holding the spear like a staff-rather than a weapon, suggesting 27  Simon 1953. 28  a maternal and kourotrophic context of the goddess.25 Other The daughters of Kekrops are often depicted in the episode of the birth of Erichthonios. For their iconography in that context see LIMC examples from the Acropolis, including a loutrophoros, I (1981), s.v. Aglauros, Herse, Pandrosos, 287-290; LIMC IV (1988) s.v. dating to the end of the 5th century, convey a similar, albeit Erechtheus, 932-933. with some minor differences, cultic and koutrophic context 29  Brommer 1963,169; Becatti 1965,75-6; Fuchs 1967; Harrison 1967,9 26 between the hero and the goddess. Erika Simon has pointed n.55; 2000,281; Palagia 1993,50; 2005,251. The only scholars who do out that Athena is presented in both vases in a kourotrophic not accept this identification include Jeppesen 1963,80, who identifies the figures with Triptolemos and Kore, while Spaeth 1991,351 and manner, suggesting that in both vases, Erechtheus, is drinking Connelly 2014,113, following a similar identification, identify the figures with Triptolemos and Pammerope. Berger 1976,126 n. 8, identifies the figure T with Erechtheus, while, Weidauer 1985,206 with Eumolpos and Chione. 30  Ridgway 1981, 46 explains that the depiction of children is more suitable for monuments of the Roman, instead of the classical, period. 31  For the kourotrophy of Erechtheus by Athena see Homer (Iliad. 2.547-8). For the kourotrophy of Erichthonios by the daughters of Kekrops see Apollodorus (3.14.6). 32  For the Arrhephoroi and the festival of Arrhephoria, see Cook 1940, 165-81; Burkert 1966; 1985, 227-9; 1990, 4-59; Parke 1977, 141-

For example Scheibler 1987, 116 points out that the peripheral decoration of the kylix is made with olive branches, instead of a meander, a fact that further strengthens the cultic context of the scene. 25  Καρδαρά 1966, 23; Kron 1976, 73. 26  Athen. Nat. Mus. Akr. 1193. For the examination of the loutrophoros see LIMC IV (1988) s.v. Erechtheus, no. 32; Graef/Langlotz I Nr 1193 Taf. 70; Simon 1953, 92; Kron 1976, 73, 91, 255 E 40 Taf. 8.2; Mitsios 2018, 152-4. 24 

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candidate being Zeus Polieus- who was also receiving bull sacrifices (Figure 6).39 Although this is far from being certain, there is a possibility that Boutes was depicted in the guise of a priest, offering the sacrifice of the bull either to Athena Polias and Erechtheus or to Zeus Polieus. The existence of a sanctuary for Zeus Polieus, located to the east of the altar of Athena Polias, indicates the importance of the cult of Zeus on the Acropolis as well Boutes’ cultic persona.40

Last but not least, on the slopes of the Acropolis itself was a sanctuary of Kourotrophos.33 Other scholars, based on the literary sources of later writers, such as Augustinus (De Civitate Dei 18.9), try to explain the abundance of women on the west pediment with reference to their role as jurors in favor of Athena.34 While this interpretation is perfectly plausible, it does not explain well the abundance of women and children on the other monuments of the Acropolis, especially the Erechtheion.

The archaic genos of the Eteoboutadai, whose mythological founder was Boutes, was ‘one of the oldest and most distinguished of the gene/the cultic and elite genos par excellence’, supplying the priestess of Athena Polias as well as the priest of Poseidon Erechtheus, as attested by the literary sources.41 Both of them were major deities worshipped in the Erechtheion, where the hero himself was also worshipped, and according to some scholars, the Eteoboutads were somehow involved with the building of the Erechtheion itself.42 In terms of iconography, Boutes has been identified by some scholars with the male figure depicted on the (now lost) southern Metope 14 of the Parthenon, although in a different contextsince the depicted episode is the Centauromachy and Boutes is depicted as the father of Hippodameia (Figure 7).43 Bearing all this in mind and although the hero’s iconography remains problematic, with no surviving iconographic depictions or safe identifications/attributions, his archaic origin and his connection with the cult of the Acropolis cannot be denied and overlooked.44

Boutes also has origins back at least in the archaic period, as he is already attested in Hesiod (frg. 223) as a son of Poseidon. Additionally, he was considered the mythical founder of the archaic genos of Eteoboutadai.35 Bearing in mind that according to Pausanias (1.26.5) Boutes was worshipped at the Erechtheion, along with Poseidon Erechtheus, there is a strong possibility that Hesiod’s testimony may reflect Boutes’ cultic association with Poseidon during the archaic period. Although a less famous hero compared to Erechtheus, Boutes has his own range patterns, and motifs: i) being a member of the Argonauts, ii) involved, as the father of Hippodameia, with the Centauromachy and ii) as an offspring of Boreas.36 Without any doubt, the main characteristic of Boutes was his leading role in the cult of Athena Polias and Poseidon Erechtheus, attested by Apollodorus (3.15.1). Boutes’ cultic persona is further stressed by his name’s etymological association with the ox as well as Hesychios’ testimony, who mentions Boutes as the title of the slaughterer of an ox during the festival of Bouphonia.37 The festival of Bouphonia, or Diipoleia, has been interpreted as a primeval festival, having its roots back to the Mycenaean times.38 Boutes’ possible involvement with the festival of Bouphonia brings to mind his possible association with the cult and the sacrifice of bulls and rams in favor of Erechtheus as noted in the Iliad (2.550-1). It seems that the hero had an exceptionally strong cultic persona and was connected with multiple (and major) deities of the Acropolis, such as Zeus, Athena and Poseidon.

Zeuxippe (Figure Q), is the most ‘shady’ figure of the triadic group. She has no clear connection with the cults of the Acropolis; in fact it seems that she received no cult at all. Her existence during the archaic period is indicated only indirectly, but cannot be completely rejected. We have already mentioned Hesiod’s testimony (Frg 223) about Boutes, calling him a son of Poseidon. Since Hesiod’s work ‘Ehoiai’ was a Catalogue of Women, it is very likely that Zeuxippe may have played a significant role, as suggested by some scholars.45 Hyginus (Fabulae 14.9), although a late source compared to Apollodorus (3.14.8)- where Zeuxippe is first attested, informs us that Zeuxippe, as well as being a mother of Boutes, was also a Naiad Nymph, daughter of the river god Eridanos.

In terms of the iconography of the Archaic Acropolis, the statue of Moschophoros, the man who carries a calf, dating to 570-60 B.C, has been interpreted as an iconographic depiction of the Homeric sacrifice in honour of Erechtheus, another

Hurwit 1999, 103. For the sanctuary of Zeus Polieus and the importance of the cult of Zeus Polieus on the Acropolis see Hurwit 1999,40, 74, 126, 190-2; 2004, 207-10. 41  Aeschines (2.147); Plutarch (Lives of the 10 Orators 843e). For the major importance of the genos of the Eteoboutadai see Parker 1996, 291; Blok and Lambert 2009, 112-3 Sourvinou- Inwood 2011, 72, 75-6, 263-5,336, 345, 349-51; Connelly 2014, 12, 62, 119, 140; Lambert 2015; Larson 2016, 318-9; Mitsios 2018, 246-8. 42  Marginescu 2001, 45-9; Schneider and Hocker 2001, 171, 175, 17881. 43  Simon 1975, 106-116. 44  Pausanias (1.26.5), in his description of the Erechtheion, informs us that on the walls of the Erechtheion there were paintings representing members of the genos of Eteoboutadai. It is very likely that Boutes, the mythological founder of the genos of Eteoboutadai may have been part of the murals of the Erechtheion. In terms of iconography, the lack of any safe iconographic identifications of Erechtheus during the art of the Archaic period has not made scholars question the existence and the ancient/primeval origin of the cult of Erechtheus on the Acropolis. Bearing in mind the importance of the archaic genos of the Eteoboutadai, as well Boutes’ connection with the cults of the Acropolis, the archaic origin of the hero, although in the lack of any known iconographic evidence- is very likely. 45  LIMC VIII (1997), s.v. Zeuxippe, 486-7. 39  40 

3; Robertson 1983; Simon 1983, 39-43, 66-8; Mansfield 1985, 260301 (with extensive list of the ancient testimonies regarding the Arrhephoria); Dillon 2002, 57-60; Parker 2005, 219-23; Connelly 2007, 297 n.10; 2014, 34, 171-2; Hurwit 1999, 41-3; 2004, 210-3; Frame 2009, 470-4; Sourvinou-Inwood 2011, 29,109, 214; Boutsikas and Hannah 2012; Larson 2016 , 319; Mitsios 2018, 38-43. 33  A cult of Kourotrophos may have existed at the Aglaureion, according to an inscription of the Roman period. IG II2 5152; Hadzisteliou-Price 1978,113; Sourvinou-Inwood 2011,29-30, 138-9. 34  Castriota 1992, 148-9; Palagia 1993, 40; Pollitt 2000, 224-5; Barringer 2008, 66 explain the plethora of women on the Parthenon in terms of their role as jurors of the episode. 35  For Boutes see Kearns 1989, 152-3; Hurwit 1999, 56, 123, 200, 203; 2004,71, 164, 170; Holtzmann 2003, 165, 171-2, 180, 220; Frame 2009, 466 n. 243; Sourvinou-Inwood 2011, 89-90, 264-5; Connelly 2014, 22, 119; Mitsios 2018, 239-60. 36  Boutes as an Argonaut: Apollonius Rhodius (Argonautica 1.95-6); as a husband of Hippodameia Diodorus Sicilus (4.70.3); as an offspring of Boreas Diodorus Sicilus (5.50.2). 37  Hesychios s.v Boutes or Bouphonia. For the festival of Bouphonia see Vernant 1991, 299-302; Scullion 1994, 84-7; Hurwit 1999, 40, 74, 103, 190, 192; 2004, 207, 209; Parker 2005, 187-91; Larson 2016, 206. 38  Hurwit 1999, 74.

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Hyginus’ testimony bears an undeniable kourotrophic message, as Zeuxippe is named as a Nymph and daughter of a river god.46 The kourotrophic context of Zeuxippe resembles that of Queen Praxithea, Erechtheus’ wife, who was also a Naiad Nymph and daughter of the river god Kephisos.47 The same applies to the daughters of Kekrops- who have a clear Nymphlike aspect and were possibly worshipped as Nymphs on the Acropolis during the archaic period.48 Zeuxippe, taking into consideration her relationship with Boutes and Boutes’ connection with the genos of the Eteoboutadai, may have been depicted on the paintings of the Erechtheion, along with her son, but this cannot be proven. Although she is more closely connected with Boutes, the etymology of Zeuxippe’s name (Ζεύς + Ἵππος), links her also with her other son and brings to mind Erechtheus’ and Erichthonios’ involvement with the yoke of horses and the apobates race.49 According to the testimony of Apollodorus (3.14.8), Zeuxippe, besides Erechtheus and Boutes had two other daughters, Procne and For the kourotrophic context of the Nymphs, especially the Naiads, see notes 47 and 48. 47  For Praxithea, the Naiad Nymph, daughter of Kephisos and wife of Erechtheus see Kearns 1989, 195; Frame 2009, 414 n. 130, 448, 454; Sourvinou-Inwood 2011,89-94; Connelly 2014; Mitsios 2018, 28-35. For the self sacrifice and the kourotrophic context of the daughters of Praxithea and Erechtheus, the Hyakinthids and their identification with the Hyades Nymphs see: Versnel 1981, 144, 146, 155; Parker 1987, 196, 203, 210, 212; Brulè 1987, 31.; Kearns 1989, 59-63, 201-2.; Bonnechère 1994, 76-82; Collard, Cropp and Lee 1995,194; Larson 1995, 20, 41, 101-6, 108, 122; Lefkowitz 1995, 35-7;Kron 1999, 78-9; Sourvinou-Inwood 2005,108,339,377-9; 2011,123-34; Connelly 2014, 47, 147-8, 268, 286. 48  The worship of the Aglaurids within the context of the Nymphs has been an ongoing debate between scholars. Kearns 1989, 26, believes that Aglauros and Pandrosos were two different Nymphs occupying different parts of the Acropolis. Contra Larson 1995, 18-9, 40, who does not accept the association of Aglaurids with the Nymphs. I believe that there is controversial evidence. The etymology of their names (see Boedeker 1984, 102-105) as well as the fact that Aglauros was worshiped in a cave on the east slope of the Acropolis (thanks to the discovery of an ‘in situ’ inscription by Dontas 1983) point to a connection with the Nymphs but the fact that Aglauros and Pandrosos were receiving cult in two different shrines on the Acropolis suggests an individuality in cult. That being said, I believe the terminology ‘Nymphilike’ is more appropriate. On this issue see also: Mitsios, I. (forthcoming). ‘Acropolis 702 reconsidered: Hermes, Aglaurids and Keryx’. 49  For the plethora of motifs and patterns surrounding Erechtheus and Erichthonios see note 21. 46 

Figure 6. Statue of Moschophoros, the man who carries a calf

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Figure 7. Boutes depicted as the father of Hippodameia

Figure 8. Zeuxippe identified as one of the two female figures on the (now lost) south Metope 20, according to Carrey’s drawing

Figure 9. Zeuxippe may have been depicted in a krater from the Dinos Painter, dating to 410 B.C., now in the Syracuse Museum Philomela. Both sisters were connected with the iconography and the festivals of the Acropolis. There was a statue of Procne and Itys on the Acropolis by Alcamenes, dating to 430-20 B.C., Procne and Philomela may have been depicted in the central south Metopes (19 and 20) of the Parthenon and their mythological motifs, especially Philomela’s weaving, recall the weaving of the Panathenaic peplos and the role

of the ergastinai and the Arrhephoroi.50 Zeuxippe may have For an extensive analysis of the Acropolis’ statue see Barringer 2005, 163- 8, 172-3; 2008, 96- 101. For the identification and attribution with the Parthenon’s central metopes see Becatti 1951, 38-40; Jeppesen 1963, 34; Dörig 1978, 226-8; Barringer 2005, 171. For the parallel with the Panathenaia, the Arrephoria and the weaving of the peplos see Burkert 1983, 182; Barringer 2005, 169- 171, who 50 

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Bibliography

had a very similar kourotrophic role as Aglauros, Pandrosos and Praxithea during the classical period, but in the lack of further literary and iconographic evidence this claim remains hypothetical. The importance of Zeuxippe has been noted by other scholars who identify Zeuxippe with one of the two female figures on the (now lost) south Metope 20, from the Parthenon, according to Carrey’s drawing (Figure 8).51 It is possible that Zeuxippe may have been depicted in a krater from the Dinos Painter, dating to 410 B.C., now in the Syracuse Museum (Figure 9).52 The names of ΑΚΑΜΑΣ, ΠΑΝΔΙΩΝ, ΧΟΙΡΟΣ, ΟΙ[Ν]ΕΥΣ are already inscribed and it is very likely that the woman who holds an oinochoe and grasps her peplos at the shoulder, right next to Pandion, is his wife Zeuxippe, although her name is not inscribed. If this identification is accurate, we have the depiction of Zeuxippe already in the 5th century B.C.

Barringer, J. 2005. ‘Alkamenes’ Prokne and Itys in Context,’ In J.Barringer and J. Hurwit (eds.) Periklean Athens and Its Legacy: 163-76. Texas. Barringer, J. 2008. Art, Myth and Ritual in Classical Greece. Cambridge. Becatti, G. 1951. Problemi Fidiaci. Milan. Becatti, G. 1965. ‘Postile partenonice: i frontoni’, ArchCl 17: 5478. Berger, E. 1976. ‘Parthenon-Studien: Erster Zwischenbericht,’ AntK 19: 122-42. Berger, E. 1977. ‘Parthenon-Studien: Zweiter ZwischenBericht’, AntK 20: 124-41. Blok, J.H. and Lambert, S. 2009. The Appointment of Priests in Attic Gene. Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik, volume 169: 95-121. Boedeker, D. 1984. Descent from Heaven: Images of Dew in Greek Poetry and Religion, California. Bonnechère, P. 1994. Le sacrifice humain en Grèce anciennt. Kernos Suppl., 3. Athens & Liège. Brommer, F. 1963. Die Skulpturen der Parthenon-Giebel. Mainz. Boutsikas, E. and R. Hannah. 2012. ‘Aitia, Astronomy and the Timing of the Arrhephoria.’ BSA 107: 233-45. Bowie, T. and Thimme, D. 1971. The Carrey Drawings of the Parthenon Sculptures. Bloomington/London. Brulé, P. 1987. La fille d’Athènes: la religion des filles à Athènes à l’époque classique: mythes, cultes et société. Paris. Burkert, W. 1966. ‘Kekropidensage und Arrephoria,’ Hermes 94: 1-25. Burkert, W. 1983. Homo Necans. Berkeley. Burkert, W. 1985. Greek Religion: Archaic and Classical. Oxford. Burkert, W. 1990. Wilder Ursprung: Opferritual und Mythos bei den Griechen. Berlin. Castriota, D. 1992. Myth, Ethos and Actuality: Official Art in FifthCentury B.C. Athens. Wisconsin. Collard, C. Cropp, M. J and Lee, K.H (eds.) 1995. Euripides: Selected Fragmentary Plays, vol. I Warminster. Connelly, J. B. 2007. Portait of a Priestess: Women and Ritual in Ancient Greece. Princeton. Connelly, J. B. 2014. The Parthenon Enigma. New York. Cook, A. 1940. Zeus: A Study in Ancient Religion. Cambridge. Cook, B. F. 1988. ‘Parthenon West Pediment B/C: the Serpent Fragment’ in M. Scmidt (ed) Kanon Festschrift E. Berger, AntK-BH 15:4-8 Dillon, M. 2002. Girls and Women in Classical Greek Religion. Routledge. Dontas, G. 1983. ‘The True Aglaurion’, Hesperia 52: 48-63. Dörig, J. 1978. ‘Traces de Thraces sur le Parthénon.’ Mus-Helv 35: 221-32. Frame, D. 2009. Hippota Nestor. Harvard. Fuchs, W. 1967. Rev. of Brommer, Giebel, Gnomon 39: 156-72. Furtwängler A. 1895. Masterpieces of Greek Sculpture. London. Gantz, T. 1993. Early Greek Myth: A Guide to Literary and Artistic Sources. Baltimore. Graef B. and E. Langlotz. 1925. Die antiken Vasen von der Akropolis zu Athen vol I. Berlin. Graef B. and Langlotz E. 1933. Die antiken Vasen von der Akropolis zu Athen. vol. II. Berlin. Hadzisteliou-Price T. 1973. ‘Hero-cult and Homer’, Historia 22: 129-44. Hadzisteliou-Price, T. 1978. Kourotrophos: Cults and Representations of the Greek Nursing Deity. Leiden.

Bearing in mind i) the strong kourotrophic message of the scene-as suggested by its iconography and the general iconographic program of the west pediment, ii) Erechtheus’ mythological and kourotrophic connection with the topography of the Acropolis and his connection with Athena- being his nurse already from the time of Homer, iii) Erechtheus’ and Boutes’ connection with the cult of Athena Polias- the major cult of the city of Athens and the Acropolis itself, as well as iv) the fact that both heroes received cult on the Erechtheion, some meters away from the west pediment of the Parthenon, I suggest that the figures P, Q, R, depict Boutes, Zeuxippe and Erechtheus. Erechtheus’ identification with the figure R, reads better because of his proximity to the figures S, T, depicting Ion and Kreousa, grandson and daughter of Erechtheus. In comparison with Oreithyia and the Boreads, Erechtheus and Boutes- especially Erechtheus, carry an undeniably stronger kourotrophic message, established in almost every single way: through the literary sources, the myth and the iconography. After all, the Boreads were never depicted in that kourotrophic context, along with their mother Oreithyia. In comparison with the Boreads, Erechtheus and Boutes are more closely connected with the goddess Athena- whose contest with Poseidon was depicted on the west pediment, her birth on the east and on whom the Parthenon was, after all, dedicated. The fact that both Erechtheus and Boutes received cult, along with Athena and Poseidon on the Erechtheion- where the μαρτύρια οf the gods, Athena’s olive tree and Poseidon’s salt water were placed and where the actual contest between Athena and Poseidon took place, further strengthens the association between the myth, the cult and the topography. Bearing all these in mind, I propose that their identification with the figures P and R, along with their mother Zeuxippe- figure Q, from the west pediment of the Parthenon is very likely.

further relates them with the Arkteia. 51  Dörig 1978, 226-8. 52  Syracuse, Museuo Arheologico Regionale 30477. ARV2 1153,17; LIMC I (1981), s.v. Akamas et Demophon no.25; Kron 1976, 117, 119, 166, 189, 274 AK 32 Taf. 13.2; Harrison 1979, 75-76; Matheson 1995,147-8.

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Harrison, E. B. 1967. ‘U and her Neighbors in the West Pediment of the Parthenon’, In Essays in the History of Art Presented to Rudolf Wittkower. London: 1-9. Harrison, E. B. 1979. ‘The Iconography of the Eponymous Heroes on the Parthenon and in the Agora’ in O. Mørkholm and N. M. Waggoner (eds.) Greek Numismatics and Archaeology: Essays in Honor of Margaret Thompson: 7185. Wetteren. Harrison, E. B. 1990. ‘Repair, Reuse and Reworking of Ancient Greek Sculpture,’ in M. True and J. Podany (eds.) Marble: Art historical and scientific perspectives on ancient sculpture: 163-84. Malibu. Holtzmann, B. 2003. L’ Acropole D’ Athénes: Monuments, cultes et histoire du sanctuaire d’ Athéna Polias. Paris. Hurwit, J.M. 1999. The Athenian Acropolis: History, Mythology, and Archaeology from the Neolithic Era to the Present. Cambridge. Hurwit, J.M. 2004. The Acropolis in the Age of Pericles. Cambridge. Jenkins, I. 1994. The Parthenon Frieze. London. Jeppesen, K. 1963. ‘Bild und Mythus an dem Parthenon: Zur Ergänzung und Deutung der Kultbildausschmückung des Frieses, der Metopen und der Giebel.’ ActaArch 34: 1-96. Καρδαρά, Χ. 1966. ‘Εριχθόνιος Σπένδων’ στο Χαριστήριον εις Αναστάσιον Κ. Ορλάνδον, Τόμος Β, 22-4. Αθήνα. Kearns, E. 1989. The Heroes of Attica. London. Kron, U. 1976. Die zehn attischen Phylenheroen: Geschichte, Mythos, Kult und Darstellungen. Berlin. Kron, U. 1999. ‘Patriotic Heroes’ in R. Hägg (ed.) Ancient Greek Hero Cult: 61-83. Stockholm. Lambert, S. D. 2015. ‘Aristocracy and the Attic genos: A mythological perspective’, in N. Fisher and H. van Wees (eds) Aristocracy in antiquity: Redefining Greek and Roman elites: 169-202. Swansea. Larson, J. 1995. Greek Heroine Cults. Madison. Larson, J. 2016. Understanding Greek Religion: A Congitive Approach. Routledge. Lefkowitz, M. R. 1995. ‘The Last Hours of the Parthenos’ in E. D. Reeder (ed.) Pandora: Women in Classical Greece: 32-7. Princeton. Mansfield, J., 1985. The Robe Of Athena and the Panathenaic ‘Peplos’. University of California, Berkeley. Marginesu, G. 2001. Gli Eteoboutadi e l’Eretteo: la monumentalizzazione di un’idea, ASAtene LXXIX, Serie III.1, Tomo I:37-54. Matheson, S. B. 1995. Polygnotos and Vase Painting in Classical Athens. Madison. Michaelis, A. 1870/1. Der Parthenon. Leipzig. Mikalson, J. D. 1976. ‘Erechtheus and the Panathenaia.’ American Journal of Philology 97:141-53. Neils, J. 2001. The Parthenon Frieze. Cambridge. Neils, J. and Schultz, P., 2012. ‘Erechtheus and the Apobates Race on the Partenon Frieze (North XI-XII)’ AJA 116:195-207. Palagia, O. 1993. The Pediments Of the Parthenon. Leiden.

Palagia, O. 2005. ‘Fire from heaven: pediments and akroteria of the Parthenon’ in J. Neils (ed.) The Parthenon: from antiquity to present: 225-59. Cambridge. Papachatzis, N. 1989. ‘The Cult of Erechtheus and Athena on the Acropolis of Athens’. Kernos 2: 175-85. Parke, H. W. 1977. Festivals of the Athenians. London. Parker, R. 1987. ‘Myths of Early Athens’ in J. Bremmer (ed.) Interpretations of Greek Mythology: 187-214. London. Parker, R. 1996. Athenian Religion: A History. Oxford. Parker, R. 2005. Polytheism and Society at Athens. Oxford. Pollitt, J. J. 2000. ‘Patriotism and the West Pediment of the Parthenon.’ In G. R. Tsetskhaladze, A. J. N. W. Prag, and A. M. Snodgrass (eds) Periplous: Papers on Classical Art and Archaeology Presented to Sir John Boardman: 220-7. London. Ridgway, B. S. 1981. Fifth Century Styles in Greek Sculpture. Princeton. Robertson, N. 1983. ‘The Riddle of the Arrhephoria at Athens’, HSCP 87: 241-88. Robertson, N. 1985. ‘The Origin of the Panathenaia’ Rhm 128: 231-95. Rosivach, V. J. 1987. ‘Autochthony and the Athenians’. The Classical Quarterly 37 (2): 294–306. Schefold, K. 1981. Die Gottersage in der klassischen und hellenistischen kunst. Munchen. Scheibler, I. 1987. ‘Bild und Gefäss: zur Ikonographisches und Funktionalen Bedeutung der Attischen Bildfeldamphoren’ JdI 102:57-118. Schneider, L. and C. Hocker, 2001. Die Akropolis von Athen. Eine Kunst-und Kulturgeschichte. Darmstadt. Scullion, S. 1994. Olympian and chthonian. Clant 13 (1): 75-119. Shapiro, H. A. 1995. ‘The Cult of Heroines: Kekrops’ Daughters’ E. D. Reeder (ed.) Pandora: Women in Classical Greece: 39-48. Princeton. Shear, L. T. 2016. Trophies of Victory: Public building in Periklean Athens. Princeton. Simon, E. 1953. Opfernde Götter. Berlin. Simon, E. 1975. ‘Versuch einer Deutung der SUdmetopen des Parthenon ,’ JDAI, 90, 100-20. Simon, E. 1983. Festivals of Attica. Wisconsin. Sourvinou- Inwood, C. 2005. Hylas, The Nymphs, Dionysos and Others: Myth, Ritual, Ethnicity. Stockholm. Sourvinou-Inwood, C. 2011. Athenians Myths and Festivals. Oxford. Spaeth, B. S. 1991. ‘Athenians and Eleusinians in the West Pediment of the Parthenon’, Hesperia 60: 331-62. Vernant, J.P. 1991. Mortals and immortals: Collected essays. Tr. Froma Zeitlin. Princeton. Versnel, H. S. 1981. ‘Self-sacrifice compensation and the anonymous gods’, in J. Rudhardt & O. Reverdin (eds.), Le sacrifice dans l’antiquitè: 135-86. (Entretiens sur l’ antiquitè Classique. Fondation Hardt, 27), Geneva. Weidauer, L. 1985. ‘Eumolpos und Athen. Eine ikonographische Studie’, AA: 195-210.

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A New Sicilian Curse Corpus: A Blueprint for a Geographical and Chronological Analysis of Defixiones from Sicily Thea Sommerschield1 Introduction1 In this paper I will offer an analysis of the geographical and chronological diffusion of the practice of defixio writing, attested in Sicily between 550 BCE and 200 CE. Sicilian evidence for cursing has, on one hand, been the subject of largely linguistically-focussed studies and, on the other hand, never been collected in a single, updated corpus (despite several attempts having been made to this end).2 The present work aims to expand and update this situation, in order to pose new questions to Sicilian defixiones thanks to the compiling of a new digital corpus of the Sicilian evidence, which may be analysed, geographically mapped and chronologically parsed. Figure 1. ISicDef 4 - Inv. nr. 42578. Museo Archeologico Regionale ‘A. Salinas’ di Palermo. Provenienza: Necropoli di Buffa. Editio princeps Brugnone 1976, pp. 68-73. By kind concession of Dr Francesca Spatafora; photograph by the author.

I. Curse tablets, commonly referred to with the Latin term defixiones and named κατάδεσμοι in Greek, are texts inscribed or scratched on thin sheets of lead (or lead alloys).3 The tablets were then folded or rolled up and sometimes pierced by a nail. The evidence from Sicily at the heart of this discussion is written exclusively in Greek. Latin does appear in later defixiones, but will not be discussed here.4 Defixiones were placed in tombs, sanctuaries, and in later periods in wells or bodies of water.5 The purpose of curse tablets is to affect the wellbeing, actions, and fortunes of a person or persons (or animals!) against their will, by wishing upon them some adversity or hardship. This is achieved by invoking a supernatural force, a demon or deity to annihilate or undermine the adversary in will and sometimes even in bodily functions. From an anthropological perspective, cursing has the potential to defuse social tensions by resorting to ‘extended connective justice’:6 when legal institutions fail (as in the case of covert crimes or improper law enforcement), metaphysical forces alternative to the existing socio-political

Figure 2. ISicDef 3 - Inv. nr. 42579. Museo Archeologico Regionale ‘A. Salinas’ di Palermo. Provenienza: Necropoli di Buffa. Editio princeps Brugnone 1976, pp. 73-79. By kind concession of Dr Francesca Spatafora; photograph by the author. institutions are called upon through a curse to bring about the punitive consequences of an illicit action.

DPhil candidate, University of Oxford See Section II for an overview of the most relevant contributions. 3  For a discussion on the possible elective affinity between the symbolic value of the choice of a cold metal and the malign intentions for cursing guiding its inscription, see Gordon 2015, pp. 154-156. 4  Mixed language defixiones, ones with the Greek transliteration of a Latin term, and ones mentioning Latin names will be considered in the present discussion. 5  Faraone 1991b, p. 3. With regards to the Sicilian material, known find spots the Selinunte necropolis (ISicDef 3, 4, 5, 9, 17); the Kamarina necropolis (ISicDef 1, 2, 13, 20, 23, 24, 26, 27, 28); the Messina necropolis (ISicDef 31); the Lilybaeum necropolis (ISicDef 29, 32, 65, 66); the Gela necropolis (ISicDef 18); a total of 13 defixiones were discovered at the Malophoros Sanctuary of Selinunte (ISicDef 6, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 21, 22, 25, 43, 57, 58). It is however impossible to ascertain with a degree of certainty the original context of many defixiones, for a considerable number achieved final publication and conservation only after long periods in illegal hands. 6  Assmann 1992, p. 151; Faraone 1999, p. 102. 1  2 

Written cursing in Greek is first documented is Sicily. The oldest defixiones hail from Selinunte, Gela and Agrigento, and date to c. 550 BCE at the earliest.7 Scholars have rarely spared much attention to this fact and to what factors this survival record may be ascribed is a troublesome matter. The rising of written curses in late sixth-century Sicily has been correlated to the birth of rhetoric on the island during roughly the same period,8 just as the large number of curses from Attica dating late 5th – 4th century BCE have been associated with The earliest epigraphical documents attested in Sicily date c. 600550 BCE. 8  Eidinow 2007, p. 142. 7 

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the Athenian propensity for lawsuits developing in the same time frame.9 Both explanations should be regarded critically, for on one hand, such historical correlates remain essentially speculative; on the other, there remains the question of unevenness in the survival record (Athens is one of the most excavated centres of the ancient world, and Selinunte has also historically been the object of intense formal and clandestine archaeological attention). The reasons for survival of evidence in the modern archaeological record and the historical motivations underlying survival are important considerations which will be taken into account in the following discussion of the geographical and chronological survival or extinction of the defixiones for a site. For the moment, let us simply respect the current state of the evidence available to us: the earliest examples of written curses known to us are from Sicily. The most ancient Sicilian material does indeed demonstrate the signs of a practice taking its first steps into the written form: they are simple lists of names (the people cursed).10 Indeed, Gager and Eidinow have suggested that an oral phase may have preceded by many centuries the writing of curses in centres such as Sicily and Attica where the written form first appeared.11

implications of the texts have passed mostly unnoticed. Upon first engaging with this situation, I concluded that only a digital corpus of all published Sicilian curse tablets could lead to a comprehensive study open to continuous updating.13 In addition to incorporating new material, a digital database can enable a highly flexible typological study of defixiones so that further questions may be posed to this class of objects.14 The result is ISicDef, a corpus which offers both an organic analysis of the curse tablets for the purpose of identifying specific patterns in Sicilian defixiones, and is soon to become an open source tool for the scholarly community to pursue the study of any aspect of the material.15 The references I will make throughout this study to specific defixiones and behavioural patterns visible in the existing harvest of evidence have emerged through the data plotting from the ISicDef corpus, and a concordance table is available at the end of this paper. More than 1,600 curse tablets are currently known from the entire Graeco-Roman world. A total of 68 curses in Greek from Sicily have been published over the last fifty years,16 a number which rivals only Attica in number of finds.17 Wünsch collected 220 curses from Attica in his 1897 DTA, and Audollent’s 1904 DT adds a further 33 to this count. The 55 curses of Jordan’s 1985 SGD and further 24 from Jordan’s 2000 NGTC must then be added.18 Roughly speaking (no updated corpus of all Attic defixiones exists), we are dealing with a total number of about 300-350 curses from Attica. To contextualise these numbers, it would be fruitful to compare the number of defixiones dating 5th - early 4th century BCE discovered in Athens with those from Selinunte for the same time-period. The choice of cities is an equitable one, for both have been the particular focus of archaeological attention, and have both produced the highest percentage of all discovered curses in their wider territory in the time frame under consideration.19 For 5th - early 4th century BCE Selinunte, 38 curses have been discovered. This number must clearly be correlated to a population estimate: De Angelis proposes a population size of 14,000-19,000 for Selinunte in this time span.20 Let us move to the Athenian

Having now framed the practice of cursing in the ancient world, it is time to study more closely the Sicilian evidence for cursing, by means of an investigation of its distribution in time and space in Sicily. II. The aim of the following paragraphs is firstly, to identify patterns characterising the curses in both time diffusion and geographical distribution; secondly, to investigate the reasons underlying these survival (or extinction) patterns; and finally, to compare and contrast the Sicilian cursing culture with the wider Sicilian epigraphic culture in virtue of such geographical and chronological characteristics. It will, therefore, become apparent whether an island-wide phenomenon may be traceable, or whether the overall picture is fragmented into individual centres of production in well-defined time periods. This study will not be addressing potential patterns in the cursing language, as this is the subject of my forthcoming research.

documentary evidence for the Megarese dialects. The studies by Bettarini (2005a), Dubois (1989) and Arena (1989) have programmatically focussed on the linguistic study of defixiones. Collections such as Lopez-Jimeno (1991) is a commendable attempt at an organic corpus of Sicilian curses (but regrettably contains several erroneous transcriptions). 13  Such a project had been proposed by Felicetti and Murano (2011). Their project, however, was never put into effect. 14  Adding them to the single digital corpus of Sicilian inscriptions directed by Dr Jonathan R. W. Prag (sicily.classics.ox.ac.uk), and encoding them in a standard accessible format (TEI-XML mark-up according to the EpiDoc schema) are the next steps. 15  I chose to adopt the relational database MySQL built with Cake PHP, as it most effectively approaches queries by using the ModelView-Controller pattern. This makes the MySQL relational database highly adept at exporting its contents into, for instance, XML markup language, and creating a fully-fledged semantic network based on linking properties. 16  Most notably: Jordan - SGD (1985); Dubois - IGDS (1989); Arena IGASM (1989); Lopez Jimeno (1991); Curbera (1999); Jordan - NGTC (2000a); Bettarini (2005); Eidinow – OCR (2007). 17  Bouffier 2010, p. 89. 18  Greek curse tablets: DTA counts 220, DT 305 (of which 166 are in Greek), SGD ‘over 650’. The subtotal is therefore of about 1,100. The number of Latin curse tablets is over 500. All numbers are from Ankarloo-Clark 1999. 19  The continuity of settlement in Athens as opposed to the disruption affecting post-409 BCE Selinunte must be noted. 20  De Angelis 2016, p. 197.

Any systematic collection of Sicilian defixiones in Greek faces the risk of being swiftly outdated. Despite this situation being anything but rare in the study of evidence of the ancient world, in the case of rolled up lead lamellae of the average size of a business card, the constant discovery of new material and the untraceable disappearance of known evidence has made the creation of an undisputed and comprehensive reference for Sicilian defixiones a near impossible task. Furthermore, the majority of studies examining selections of defixiones have focussed principally on the linguistic features of the tablets,12 whereas the magical aspects and the social Faraone 1999b. 21 curses from Sicily are in the list-form. 11  Gager 1992, p. 7; Eidinow 2007, p. 141. The passage from oral to written cursing in the early Classical period has been linked to the broader spread of literacy taking place more broadly in Greek society at the time, and must have implied conspicuous ideological and sociological repercussions. See Faraone 1991b, p. 5; Eidinow 2007, p. 154; Gordon 2015, p. 149 for further discussion. 12  For instance, the Selinunte defixiones have been fundamental as 9 

10 

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curses. The number of defixiones datable with a certain degree of certainty to 5th – 4th century BCE Athens (problems of dating persist in the main collections of Athenian curses), is approximately 103. Alain Bresson suggests a population estimate for Athens of ‘more than 40,000 citizens in the fifth century, and perhaps at least 30,000 in the fourth century’.21 Despite the inability to aspire to entirely precise figures, we find that Athens and Selinunte were cursing in similar proportions in the 5th - 4th century BCE.

excavations of the Western necropolis of Himera. On the other hand, historical reasons have played a central part in determining the survival record, such as continuous or interrupted occupation of settlements, forced or voluntary migrations of peoples, mass enslavements, the movement of mercenaries, destructions, new foundations, the abandoning and re-occupations of settlements.25 To return to the Himera case, it could be inferred with a reasonable degree of certainty that the freshly discovered harvest of defixiones must pre-date the destruction of the city in 409 BCE. If this were proven true by the forthcoming publication of these curses, then the indication of a peak in defixio writing in production centres during the late Archaic – early Classical period (which is attested by the current state of the remaining evidence for cursing in Sicily, as shall now be discussed in detail) would be further confirmed based on this historical reason for survival and discontinuation. These are important considerations which will be taken into account in the following discussion of the geographical and chronological survival or extinction of the defixiones for a site.

What provisional conclusions may be drawn from this data? The practice of cursing on lead appears to have peaked in the Classical age in the two centres under investigation. What were the social and historical conditions in which we may contextualise such an ‘enthusiastic’ adoption of written curses in Selinunte and Athens? As a first general observation, the role played by the spread of literacy must undoubtedly be recognised. With ‘literacy’ one must understand both the capacity to read, and the aptitude at composing a written text. We also know from Thucydides that Selinunte was an extremely prosperous city at this time, before the Athenian expedition against Syracuse.22 The material record similarly seems to suggest a significant level of material wealth for Selinunte in this period.23 Selinunte was a city with means, potential and intention to flourish, and its noteworthy harvest of curse tablets can indeed be read as a symptom and a setting of the agonistic competition and discourse (political contentions, judicial contrasts, commercial competition) which has been set at the heart of the practice of cursing.24 Then, in 409 BCE, the city was captured by the Carthaginians. The figures compiled reveal that Selinunte demonstrated a cursing culture fully parallel in time and commensurate in number to Athens.

By observing the geographical distribution of the curses across the whole of Sicily, a number of preliminary observations may be offered. Firstly, defixiones concentrate in urban contexts. Kamarina and Selinunte appear to be the most autonomously thriving centres of production. Apart from Morgantina (whose evidence exclusively dates to the 1st century BCE) and Centuripae (which has only yielded a single curse tablet), the phenomenon appears to be circumscribed to coastal colonisation centres with a prominent Greek ethnic component. The absence of defixiones from the eastern and northern coast must be noted (albeit no foundations pre-400 BCE are to be found along the northern coast between Himera and Messina): the phenomenon seems to have been restricted to the southern coast. One may also remark that sub-colonies engage in the practice conversely from their mother-colonies (such is the case of Syracuse and Megara Hyblaea). No defixio has emerged from Elymian sites such as Entella, Erice and Segesta, despite their known interaction with both Punic and Greek cultures. A final noteworthy fact is the exiguity of curses from Palermo (only one), Motya and Solunto (no curses discovered), whereas the other main centre for Punic settlement of the island Lilybaeum has yielded four curses (it should however be made explicit that Motya was destroyed in 397 BCE and Lilybaeum was founded by the survivors of this violent event). This exclusively geographical overview should now be correlated to the chronological plotting of the data from the ISicDef corpus, in order to test the existence of the patterns this paper aims to identify.26 I have divided the tablets into four chronological ranges, on the basis of the immediately observable survival patterns in the evidence: the late Archaic – early Classical peak (550 - 400 BCE), the 4th and 3rd century caesura (400 - 200 BCE), the 2nd century to ‘Year Zero’ recommencing (200 - 1 BCE), and finally the gradual extinction of cursing in 2nd century CE (1 - 200 CE). The dating of the curses is based upon the one attributed to each defixio by its publishers.

Before moving to the discussion of the geographical and chronological mapping of the defixiones in Sicily, two caveats are called for. Firstly, I am fully aware that the sample of material is not a large one: at the time of writing, 68 defixiones, raging geographically across the whole of Sicily and chronologically through almost 700 years, have been recorded. Extreme caution is therefore fundamental. However, despite this apparently limited number of total finds, it nevertheless comprises a sample large enough to make some fruitful observations on the diffusion in time and space of defixiones in Sicily, based on both the relative abundance of evidence and equally on its relative lack, as shall now be demonstrated. Secondly, both the historical reasons for survival of evidence and the subsequent factors which affect the survival and recovery of evidence must be meticulously considered. Indeed, the legal and illegal excavations carried out on sites such as necropoleis, the systematic archaeological attention dedicated to certain centres compared to others (for instance, the ‘positive bias’ already discussed towards Selinunte), or the late discoveries due to external circumstances can significantly distort the ‘survival-landscape’ of curses from Sicily. For example, I have only recently been made aware through personal communication with Dr Francesca Spatafora of the discovery of 40-60 defixiones during present Bresson 2016, p. 61. Morris suggests that by 430 BCE, Athens must have had a population of 35,000-40,000 (Morris 2005, p. 15). 22  Thuc. 6.20.4. 23  De Angelis 2016, p. 91. 24  Faraone 1991b. 21 

Souza 2014. Maps created by means of the visualisation and extraction of GIS data in Google Maps. 25  26 

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Figure 3. The geographical range of defixiones in Sicily between 550 BCE - 200 CE: total numbers of finds per site.

Figure 4. The geographical range of defixiones in Sicily between 550 BCE - 200 CE: bubble chart of total numbers of finds per site. Cursing begins in Sicily in the late 6th century BCE. Between 550 and 400 BCE it can be observed that the practice of cursing initially spread rapidly across Sicily’s coastal centres, with a

particular concentration in the southern coast of the island in the sub-colonies. As discussed previously, no attestation of defixiones is to be found in the Sicilian hinterland, based on the

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Figure 5. Defixiones in Sicily 550-400 BCE. current data. Between 550-400 BCE, Selinunte27 and Kamarina are the most thriving centres of production of defixiones. It must be noted that 5th century Kamarina was struck by major historical vicissitudes: Thucydides recounts how the city was destroyed soon after its founding by its mother-city Syracuse in 552 BCE.28 Hippocrates tyrant of Gela refounded it in 492 BCE,29 but soon after it was depopulated and destroyed in 485 BCE by Gelon, Hippocrates’ successor.30 The Geloans however repopulated it and portioned out its territory in a third foundation (461 BCE).31 The city prospered until 405 BCE, when it was destroyed by the Carthaginians. However, the existence of curses found at Kamarina throughout this animated century attests that the city’s life did not freeze entirely, but instead maintained its social vivacity, traditions, cults and institutions – among which, the practice of writing defixiones. It is almost as if the continuous socio-political discontinuity had nurtured a renovated civic effort to restore and revive the city’s traditions.

range drops to 3 for Selinunte (which have been dated to late 5th – early 4th century, but of which certainly 2 and with all likelihood also the remaining one possibly predate the fateful 409 BCE, and therefore should not be considered for diagnostic purposes within the 4th century time frame), and 1 for Kamarina (4th century BCE). Both cities had witnessed major conquest and transformation at the end of the 5th century, with Selinunte being captured by Carthage in 409 BCE and Kamarina destroyed by the Carthaginians in 405 BCE. A noteworthy gap, therefore, appears in the 4th century, with both production centres disappearing and total number of curses decreasing. This slump appears to persist into the 3rd century BCE: 3 curses have emerged from Selinunte (300-275 BCE), and one from the recently founded Lilybaeum (250-200 BCE). It was throughout the 4th – 3rd century BCE that Sicily experienced great social unrest and political upheaval. Randall Souza has examined how a higher mobility, due to political hegemony bids by the powers of Syracuse, Carthage, and Rome, manifested itself in the form of population relocation, manipulation and even annihilation.32 One could therefore be tempted into considering the 4th century BCE as a period of socio-economic recession and warfare reflected in the sudden decline in defixio (and, as shall soon be discussed, epigraphic) production. However, correlating epigraphic activity to socioeconomic prosperity is a dangerous method, and a wider lens

Between 400 and 300 BCE, the situation changes quite dramatically. The number of curses recovered from the two main production centres highlighted in the previous time Which has yielded 38 curses, if 3 curses dating 450-350 BCE are included in this range, as they are in the following chronological range as well. 28  Thuc. 6.5.3. 29  Hdt. 7.154.3; Thuc. 6.5.3. 30  Hdt. 7.156.2; Thuc. 6.5.3. 31  Diod. 11.76.5; Thuc. 6.5.3. 27 

32 

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Figure 6. Defixiones in Sicily 400-200 BCE.

Figure 7. Defixiones in Sicily 200 - 1 BCE.

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Figure 8. Defixiones in Sicily 1 – 200 CE. is called for.33 This possibility will be further discussed at the end of the geographical and chronological analysis.

Centuripae (ISicDef 39), one of the most important Roman cities in Sicily,35 has been discovered.

In the 2nd and 1st century BCE a written cursing revival takes place in Sicily. New centres of defixio production appear, whereas the old established ones (such as Selinunte) do not resurface. Morgantina, a mixed Greek and Sikel inland centre seized by the Romans in 214 BCE, has produced a batch of 6 curses dating 1st century BCE: the names which appear on the tablets are indeed Latin (ISicDef 35, 36, 37, 38), as are terms such as ‘liberta’ (ISicDef 33, 34). Lilybaeum continues the production of curses which had begun in the previous century. Its tablets mention not only Greek names, but Latin ones as well as foreign names such as Agbor Bucius (ISicDef 32, possibly a Punic), and Apithamb.al (ISicDef 65, also Punic). One curse from Phintias, founded in 282 BCE, lists two Greek names and nine Latin names (ISicDef 30, 150-50 BCE).

III. This analysis has revealed that the late 6th - 5th century BCE is undoubtedly the period in which certain centres demonstrated the greatest familiarity with defixio writing on lead in Greek, and that after the caesura of the 4th century BCE the practice of cursing regained popularity in new centres of production, spreading inland following the Roman expansion into Sicily. However, cursing never regained its former heyday. In the light of the patterns of continuity and discontinuity so far observed for the evidence for cursing in Sicily, it would now be worthwhile to compare and contrast such patterns against the wider Sicilian epigraphic culture. The aim is to investigate whether similar developments or disruptions occurred in the wider panorama of epigraphy on stone in Sicily, whether the historical reasons were similar, and if therefore Sicilian curses followed the wider patterns of the Sicilian epigraphic habit or displayed their own patterns of practice.

Cursing on lead in Greek disappears in Sicily after the 2nd century CE, although curiously enough the same does not apply to the Attic cursing tradition, as the latter increases exponentially after the 1st – 2nd century CE.34 ISicDef 40 from Messina mentions a Latin name, and one curse from

To achieve this, we will be moving from considerations made by Jonathan Prag’s recent and forthcoming work on Sicilian epigraphy in numbers:36 an analysis of the collected data

Prag 2002, pp. 23. Curbera 1999, p. 159. In the later Roman period, the southeast of Sicily witnesses a growth in other types of magical document, such as amulets, Greek magical papyri, and love-magic incantations (Dickie 2001). 33  34 

35  36 

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sample from I.Sicily (3240 inscriptions on stone, of which two thirds are probably Greek and of which the datable texts used in these analyses never exceed circa 2500) demonstrates a rapid growth in the Archaic period beginning in the 7th – 5th century BCE (180 inscriptions on stone). The inscriptions of this early period are prevalently funerary and votive, and their distribution is concentrated in the southern-eastern coastal area of the island. Sicily then witnesses an almost complete slump in the epigraphic production of the 4th century BCE (which drops to circa 25 texts). A revival in Greek epigraphic culture takes place during the last three centuries BCE (minimum 435 inscriptions): a diversity of media and types of inscription (with an increase in public epigraphy) and a penetration in the Sicilian hinterland and northern coast are identified as traits of a developing ‘Hellenistic’ epigraphic culture, born of the increasing Mediterranean connectivity in every aspect of human interaction.37 Latin epigraphy is instead prevalent in the 1st – 3rd century CE. The wider epigraphic practice on stone in Sicily matches therefore the pattern observed in the chronological and to some extent even geographical diffusion of defixiones: a rapid growth in the Archaic period and an initial limitation to coastal southern areas (with high numbers of inscriptions concentrated almost exclusively in Selinunte and Motya for the south-west, and small numbers from a swarm of cities in the south-east), followed by an apparent gap in the practice in the 4th century BCE, which then sees a gradual rise in the production of defixiones starting in the 3rd century concentrated in the Sicilian eastern interiors and centres of Roman settlement, until the disappearance of the practice of defixio writing in Greek in the 2nd century CE (as will be discussed presently).

4th century BCE. A distinguishing factor of Archaic curses is the cursing of people’s names in the form of a list, with no other linguistic, formulaic or graphic embellishment or expansion. This situation ceases after the 4th century, as curses become more articulated, direct invocations to the gods begin to appear, magical symbols and targets alternative to the traditional ‘binding of the tongue’ begin to emerge. These observations authorise the inclusion of defixiones from Sicily within the wider epigraphical habit of the island. Rather than correlating to historical circumstances. Rather than correlating the survival in time and place of defixiones exclusively to socio-economic crisis or prosperity, one could instead examine the issue in terms of the shifts in contents, form and linguistic peculiarities and the historical situation taking place at the time, and examine whether apparent periods of epigraphic silence may actually be a stage of sociohistorical or religious development and change. Conclusions In this paper I have aimed to contextualise defixiones both geographically and chronologically within the Sicilian cursing horizon, and secondly within the wider Sicilian epigraphic culture in virtue of shared shifts in ‘quality’ and quantity. My analysis so far seems to suggest that we are not dealing with a unified Sicilian phenomenon, but with a fragmented panorama within well-defined time periods of individual production centres, whose number and survival or extinction varies in parallel with the socio-historical circumstances affecting the island and its population. A conclusive word of caution is called for. It has been noted that 38 curses found in Selinunte between 550-400 BCE represent a large percentage of the total number of defixiones included in the database. Selinunte has in fact been intensively excavated in recent years, especially the burial and sanctuary areas usually associated to the deposition of curses. Further information regarding the new batch of curses from Himera (subsequent to its publication), correlated to a detailed textual analysis of the language of cursing in Sicilian evidence are now called for. In so doing, clearer light may be shed on whether we are dealing with a situation of ‘accidents of survival’, historical reasons for survival, or in truth with a more extensive phenomenon involving the practice of cursing in Sicily.

In the face of these patterns, it could be suggested that the 4th century slump in Sicilian epigraphic habit may be interpreted as a period of gestation rather than of a recession characterising the Sicilian economic, political and social situation of this period. Prag has in fact identified a set of shifting patterns in the limited surviving epigraphy of the 4th century BCE: the inscriptions aspire to greater monumentality and higher quality, thus distinguishing themselves from the previous Archaic production on poor local stone and the limited numbers of public epigraphy.38 The same examination must be made for defixiones: an increase in quality and in complexity may be identified in the defixiones dating post-

37  38 

Prag 2013b, pp. 343-46. Prag, forthcoming.

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Acknowledgements

Amadasi Guzzo, M. 2007. ‘Une Lamelle Magique a Inscripton Phoenicienne’, Vicino Oriente 13: 197-206. Ankarloo, B., & Clark, S. 1999. Ancient Greece and Rome (Witchcraft and Magic in Europe). Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Antonetti, C., & De Vido, S. 2009. Temi selinuntini. Pisa: ETS. Arena, R. 1986. ‘Osservazioni su due defixiones selinuntine’, Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 66: 161-164. Arena, R. 1989. Iscrizioni greche arcaiche di Sicilia e magna Grecia: iscrizioni di Sicilia. Milano: Cisalpino-Goliardica. Assmann, J. 1992. ‘When Justice Fails: Jurisdiction and Imprecation in Ancient Egypt and the Near East’, The Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 78: 149-162. Audollent, A. 1904. Defixionum Tabellae. Paris: Fontemoing Repr. Frankfurt a. M.: Minerva GmbH, 1967. Bechtold, B., Frey-Kupper, S., Madella, M., & Brugnone, A. 1999. La necropoli di Lilybaeum. Palermo: Roma: Regione Siciliana, Assessorato [regionale] dei beni culturali ed ambientali e della pubblica istruzione; L’Erma di Bretschneider. Bettarini, L. 2005a. Corpus delle defixiones di Selinunte: edizione e commento (Hellenica; 15). Alessandria: Edizioni dell’Orso. Bettarini, L. 2005b. ‘Una Nuova Defixio Di Selinunte?’, Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 151: 253–258. Bettarini, L. 2009. ‘Defixio selinuntina inedita da Manuzza’, Parola del Passato 64: 137-146. Bettarini, L. 2012. ‘Testo e lingua nei documenti con Ephesia grammata’, Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 183: 111-128. Bonanno, D., Bonnet, C., & Cusumano, N. 2010. Alleanze e parentele: Le ‘affinità elettive’ nella storiografia sulla Sicilia antica: Convegno internazionale Palermo 14 - 15 aprile 2010 (Triskeles). Caltanissetta - Roma: S. Sciascia. Bouffier, S. 2010. ‘Specificites Culturelles En Sicilie Greque a Travers Les Tablettes de Malediction’, In Bonanno et al. 2010: 89-112). Bresson, A., & Rendall, S. 2016. The making of the ancient Greek economy: Institutions, markets, and growth in the city-states. Princeton. Brugnone, A. 1976. ‘Defixiones Inedite Da Selinunte’, In Manni 1976: 67-90). Brugnone, A. 1999. ‘Le Laminette Iscritte Della Tomba 186’, In Bechtold et al. 1999: 467-473). Ciraolo, L., & Seidel, J. 2002. Magic and Divination in the Ancient World (Ancient Magic and Divination; 2). Leiden: Brill. Styx. Collins, D. 2015. The Cambridge History of Magic and Witchcraft in the West: From Antiquity to the Present. New York. Collins, D. 2008. Magic in the Ancient Greek World (Blackwell ancient religions). Malden, Mass.; Oxford: Blackwell Publishing. Cooley, A., & Burnett, A. 2002. Becoming Roman, writing Latin? Literacy and epigraphy in the Roman West (Journal of Roman archaeology. Supplementary series; 48). Portsmouth, R.I.: Journal of Roman Archaeology L.L.C. Cordano, F. 1992. Le tessere pubbliche dal Tempio di Atena a Kamarina (Studi pubblicati dall’Istituto italiano per la storia antica; fasc. 50). Roma: Istituto italiano per la storia antica. Cordano, F. 2011. Kamarina: politica e istituzioni di una città greca (Themata; 8). Tivoli: Tored. Curbera, J. 1997. ‘The Persons Cursed on a Defixio from Lilybaeum’, Mnemosyne IV 50 (2): 219-225.

I wish to thank the organisers of the Conference in Honour of Sir John Boardman on the Occasion of his 90th Birthday, and especially Dr Diana Perez Rodriguez. I am indebted to my supervisors in Oxford, Professor Jonathan Prag and Dr Josephine Crawley Quinn. Thank you Yannis for helping me
new ground with ISicDef. The errors that are found herein are mine alone proofreading is a real curse. Selected abbreviations for epigraphic catalogues Bettarini = Bettarini, L. 2005a. Corpus delle defixiones di Selinunte: edizione e commento (Hellenica; 15). Alessandria: Edizioni dell’Orso. Brugnone st. Manni = Brugnone, A. 1976. ‘Defixiones Inedite Da Selinunte’, In Manni 1976: 67-90). CTBS = Gager, J. 1992. Curse Tablets and Binding Spells from the Ancient World. New York: Oxford University Press. Curbera = Curbera, J. 1999. ‘Defixiones’, In Gulletta, M. 1999. Sicilia epigraphica: Atti del convegno internazionale Erice, 1518 ottobre 1998 (Annali della Scuola normale superiore di Pisa, Classe di lettere e filosofia. Quaderni; ser. 4, 7-8). Pisa: Classe di lettere e filosofia. 159–86. DT = Audollent, A. 1904. Defixionum Tabellae. Paris: Fontemoing Repr. Frankfurt a. M.: Minerva GmbH, 1967. DTA = Wünsch, R. 1897. Defixionum Tabellae, IG III iii, Appendix. Berlin: Preußische Akademie der Wissenschaften. [Cited from the reprint, Inscriptiones Atticae, Supplementum Inscriptionarum Atticarum, I. Chicago: Ares Publishers, 1976]. IGASM = Arena, R. 1989. Iscrizioni greche arcaiche di Sicilia e magna Grecia: iscrizioni di Sicilia. Milano: Cisalpino-Goliardica. IGDS = Dubois, L. 1989. Inscriptions grecques dialectales de Sicile: Contribution à l’étude du vocabulaire grec colonial (Collection de l’École française de Rome, 119). Roma: Ecole française de Rome [Cited from the reprint, 2008. Inscriptions grecques dialectales de Sicile. Tome II (Hautes études du monde grécoromain; 40). Genève: Droz]. López Jimeno = López Jimeno, M. 1991. Las tabellae defixionis de la Sicilia griega (Classical and Byzantine monographs; v. 22). Amsterdam: Adolf M. Hakkert. NGTC = Jordan, D. 2000a. ‘New Greek Curse Tablets 1985-2000’, Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 41 (1): 5-46. OCR = Eidinow, E. 2007. Oracles, Curses and Risk among the Ancient Greeks Oxford: Oxford University Press. SGD = Jordan, D. 1985. ‘A survey of Greek defixiones not included in the special corpora’, Greek, Roman & Byzantine Studies 26: 151–97. Bibliography Agostiniani, L. 1977. Iscrizioni anelleniche di Sicilia (Lingue e iscrizioni dell’Italia antica; 1). Firenze: Olschki. Amadasi Guzzo, M. 1986. Scavi a Mozia, le iscrizioni (Collezione di studi fenici; 22). Roma: Consiglio nazionale delle ricerche. Amadasi Guzzo, M. 1990. Iscrizioni fenicie e puniche in Italia (Itinerari. Comitato nazionale per gli studi e le ricerche sulla civiltà fenicia e punica; 6). Roma: Libreria dello Stato, Istituto poligrafico e Zecca dello Stato. Amadasi Guzzo, M. 2003. ‘Appunti sulla ‘tabella devotionis’ KAI 89 da Cartagine’, Epigrafia e storia delle religioni 20: 25-31.

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Rocca, G. 2015. ‘Les defixiones siciliennes: aspects publics et privés’. In Dupraz et al. 2015: 305-313). Schwemer, D. 2015. ‘The Ancient Near East’. In Collins 2015: 17-51). Souza, R. 2014. The Mobility of Sicilian Populations and the Nature of Sicilian Citizenship, 409-202 BCE, Ph.D thesis, University of California, Berkeley. Souza, R. 2016. ‘Hellenistic Sicilian Real Estate Contracts Inscribed on Lead Tablets: New Readings and Implications For The Economic Independence Of Women’, Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 197: 149–166. Spatafora, F. 2016. Il Thesmophorion di Entella: scavi in Contrada Petraro. Pisa: Edizioni della Normale. Stratton, K. 2015. ‘Early Greco-Roman Antiquity’. In Collins 2015: 83–112). Versnel, H. 1991a. ‘Beyond cursing: The appeal for justice in judicial prayers’. In Faraone et al. 1991: 60-106). Versnel, H. 1991b. ‘Some Reflections on the Relationship Magic-Religion’, Numen, 38 (2): 177-197. Versnel, H. 2015. ‘Prayer and Curse’. In Eidinow et al. 2015: 447-459). Wünsch, R. 1897. Defixionum Tabellae, IG III iii, Appendix. Berlin: Preußische Akademie der Wissenschaften. [Cited from the reprint, Inscriptiones Atticae, Supplementum Inscriptionarum Atticarum, I. Chicago: Ares Publishers, 1976].

Mirecki, P., & Meyer, M. 2002. Magic and Ritual in the Ancient World (Religions in the Graeco-Roman world, v. 141). Leiden: Brill. Morris, I. 2005. ‘The Growth of Greek Cities in the First Millennium BC’, Princeton/Stanford Working Papers in Classics December 2005: 1-29. Parker, R. 1983. Miasma: Pollution and Purification in Early Greek Religion. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Parker, R. 2005a. Polytheism and Society at Athens. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Prag, J. 2002. ‘Epigraphy by Numbers: Latin and the Epigraphic Culture in Sicily’, In Cooley 2002: 15-31). Prag, J. & Quinn, J. 2013a. The Hellenistic West: Rethinking the Ancient Mediterranean. Cambridge. Prag, J. 2013b. ‘Epigraphy in the Western Mediterranean: a Hellenistic Phenomenon?’. In Prag. J, & Quinn, J. 2013: 320-347). Riess, W. 2012. Performing Interpersonal Violence. Court, Curse, and Comedy in Fourth-Century BCE Athens. Berlin, Boston: De Gruyter. Rocca, G. 2009a. Nuove Iscrizioni da Selinunte (Hellenica, 31). Alessandria: Edizioni dell’Orso. Rocca, G. 2009b. ‘Due inediti da Selinunte’. In Antonietti et al. 2009: 269-276). Rocca, G. 2012. ‘Grecità Di Sicilia: Il Caso Defixiones. Un Nuovo Testo Da Selinunte’, Aristonothos. Scritti per Il Mediterraneo Antico, 4: 209–218.

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Once Again: A Sacrificing Goddess. Demeter - What´s up with her Attribute? Maria Christidis1 and Heinrike Dourdoumas2

Figure 1. Attic red-figure cup, Potter Sosias (signature), Sosias Painter, 500 BC, Berlin, AS, F2278, Side A. © Wehgartner 1991: 249 Nr.59. In1Attic2black as well as in red-figured vase painting, scenes depicting an assembly of gods or showing the presence of one or more gods, were always popular. The gods typically move forward in a festive procession, or they sit or stand, sometimes in small groups, around the seated Zeus. They are depicted with or without their attributes and they may sometimes be recognized because of associated inscriptions.

Heracles, on the occasion of his introduction into Olympus or a feast in celebration thereof. On the side A (Figure 1), which is highly fragmented, three couples of gods are sitting (Poseidon and Amphitrite, Ares and Aphrodite, Dionysus and Ariadne or Semele?5) opposite of Zeus and Hera, between them the winged Hebe pours nectar into the pre-stretched phialai of the gods.

In many cases, this collective gathering of Olympians is induced by a mythological background, e.g. the introduction of Heracles or the return of Hephaestus to Olympus. Scenes of this kind are sufficiently well known from literary sources.

All the gods sit on elaborate chairs with lion’s feet and an overturned lion’s skin, their names are inscribed above their heads.

At the end of the 6th century BC, some few red-figure vases depict gods performing sacrifices. Some hold phialai in their hands, while others pour what is quite likely nectar instead of wine from their sacrificial oinochoes. In these cases the phialai are used for libations, similar to when mortals sacrifice to gods.3 Gods performing sacrifices are not mentioned in ancient literature, so this can be perceived as a phenomenon restricted to vase painting. In the course of the 5th century BC, however, these depictions decrease.

The side B (Figure 2) shows the 3 Horae with branches and fruits in the hand, Hestia and Demeter each with prestretched phialai, Hermes dragging a beefy ram, Apollo with lyre and in front of him a running deer, Heracles with club and a hanging quiver and at the end follows Athena. Particularly on this side many things remain unclear: BC, Berlin, AS, F2278, found in 1828 at the necropole of Camposcala in Vulci, in 1831 acquired by the Antikensammlung, ARV2 21, 1.1620, CVA Berlin 2 Pl.49, BAPD 200108; Immerwahr 1990: 66 no. 384. 5  Ariadne is usually depicted together with Dionysus. Semele can be certainly identified only if there is an inscription, e.g. Dionysus leads Semele to Mount Olympus: attic black-figure hydria, Leagros or Simos Group, 520-510 BC, Berlin, AS, F1904, BAPD 302049; Maenades and Dionysus related to Thiasos, e.g. pointed amphora, Kleophrades Painter, 490 BC, Munich, SA, 8732, BAPD 201659; Dionysus and Ariadne with their sons: Attic black-figure amphora, Towry White Painter, 520 BC, London, BM, B168, BAPD 310371; Dionysus and Ariadne between Satyrs: Attic red-figure hydria, 510 BC, Munich, SA, 2418, BAPD 200054.

The depiction on the outside of the Sosias cup in Berlin (dated ca. 500 BC),4 portrays an assembly of gods in honour of Karl-Franzens Universität, Universitätsplatz 3/2, 8010 Graz, Austria, [email protected] 2  Unterlaufeneggerstrasse 56, 8530 Deutschlandsberg, Austria, [email protected] 3  Shapiro 1989: 135-139. 4  Attic red-figure cup, Potter Sosias (signature), Sosias Painter, ca.500 1 

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Maria Christidis and Heinrike Dourdoumas – Once Again: A Sacrificing Goddess

Figure 2. Attic red-figure cup, Potter Sosias (signature), Sosias Painter, 500 BC, Berlin, AS, F2278, Side B. © Wehgartner 1991: 249 Nr.59. • •

There is no footboard as on the A-side Behind Athena and under the handle a woman’s head in a medallion is displayed. This is Selene, so the scene should take place towards the evening • The names of the persons are partly incomprehensible. For instance, ‘Amphitrite’ is written above Demeter. She, however, sits on the opposite side together with Poseidon. Does this maybe imply a call of Demeter to Amphitrite? • Apollo is named Artemis, but the figure is clearly male. Is it meant to represent both gods? • Hermes carries an extraordinarily powerful ram (pointing to the great appetite of Heracles?) • Heracles hailing his godly father ‘Ζευ φιλε’ which is either a prayer or a form of greeting • While Zeus and Hera are holding a scepter, Poseidon is equipped with his trident, Ares with a lance, and Dionysus is shown with a branch of vine leaves (unfortunately partially destroyed and not visible), Demeter carries a spit in her left hand while she holds her phiale with her right hand. This very unusual attribute deserves special consideration. Demeter is a mother-goddess and was worshipped together with her daughter Persephone as the goddess of fertility. On depictions she is usually equipped with different attributes. She often wears a polos on her head, holds her scepter and three or more ears of corn in her hands, torches or poppy seeds.6

Figure 3. Detail, Spit of Demeter. © H. Dourdoumas unidentified objects: Might those be cutlets7 (J. Boardman), small fruits8 (E. Simon), a bunch of leaves 9 (I. Wehgartner), a hardly identifiable λαλοῦν σύμβολο10 (M. Tiverios) or might those be spices like laurel and myrtle for the fish of Amphitrite11 (G. Schwarz)?

But there is something conspicuous about Demeter’s attribute in her left hand. Instead of carrying her scepter, she holds a spit. We can see the pronounced tip on its lower end (Figure 3). On its upper end (Figure 4) there is a small trident with some

LIMC V,1 (1990) s. v. Heracles, 123 (J. Boardman). Simon, E. and Hirmer, M. 1976. Griechische Vasen. Munich: Hirmer. 102-103. 9  Wehgartner in: Euphronios, Nr. 59, 246. 10  Tiverios 1977: 10. 11  Suggested by Dr. Gerda Schwarz, Graz one-on-one interview, (died 14/2/2015). 7 

Attic red-figure kantharos (fragment) Sosias Painter, 500 BC, Athens, NM Acr, 2.556, BAPD 200109; Attic red-figure volute krater, Berlin Painter, 490 BC, Karlsruhe, BL, 68.101, BAPD 352484; Attic redfigure neck amphora, Berlin Painter, 480-470 BC, Dresden, SKA, 289, BAPD 201877; Attic red-figure stamnos, Painter of the Yale oinochoe, 470 BC, Oxford, AM, V292, BAPD 205629.

8 

6 

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Figure 4. Detail, Spit of Demeter. © H. Dourdoumas Schwarz’s assumption seems quite convincing. Demeter and Hestia,12 who are shown in pair on the dinos of Sophilos,13 represent both mothers with their associated tasks. This basically means that they should take care of the house and the hearth but also of the food. Demeter therefore brings a spit and spices for the feast of the Gods and calls out to Amphitrite.

scenes of sacrifices are often found in connection with Heracles.17 Spits were made of bronze or iron in various styles and are found in several sanctuaries as a sacrifice or gift to the gods.18 They were also used as ‘weapons’, as in the fight between Lapithes and Centaurs at the wedding of Peirithoos with Hippodameia,19 in depictions of the Busiris-episode20 or in the assassination of Orpheus by Thracian women.21 In the setting

Instead of a tender dolphin, like in other depictions,14 she holds a full-grown food fish (Figure 5), probably a sea-bream.15 In the same way, Hermes contributes a ‘fat’ ram to the feast. The Horae bring pomegranates and another fruit, and Dionysus supplies the circle with wine, so that the feast can begin.

Attic black-figure cup of Nikosthenes Potter, 520-510 BC, Paris, Louvre F121, BAPD 301238; Attic black-figure olpe, Painter of Vatican G 49, 490 BC, Paris, Louvre, F338, BAPD 305637. 18  E.g. in Heraion of Argos, Kron 1971: 133 NM76; in Zeus sanctuary in Olympia, Gebauer 2002: 510 NM 1947, in the sanctuary in Delphi, Kron 1971: 133. 19  Attic red-figure calyx krater, Nekyia Painter, middle of 5th century BC, Vienna, KHM, IV1029, BAPD 214586; Attic red-figure column krater, Florence Painter, 470-460 BC, Florence, MAE, 3997, BAPD 206128; Attic red-figure volute krater, Painter of the woolly Satyrs, 450 BC, New York, MM, 07.286.84, BAPD 207099. 20  Attic red-figure cup, 480-470 BC, Ferrara, MN, T499, BAPD 204521; Attic red-figure hydria, Troilos Painter, 480 BC, Munich, SA, 2428, BAPD 203080; Attic red-figure stamnos, 480 BC, Oxford, AM, V521, BAPD 202323; Attic red-figure cup, Epiktetos, 510 BC, Rome, MNVG, 57912, BAPD 200468. 21  Attic red-figure stamnos, Dokimasia Painter, 500-450 BC, Basel, AS, BS1411, BAPD  275231; Attic red-figure cup, Painter of Louvre G265, 480-470 BC, Cincinnati, AM, 1979.1, BAPD 204533; Attic red-figure stamnos, Hermonax, 470 BC, Paris, Louvre, G416, BAPD 205400. 17 

Spits were used in households, but also in religious context, in sanctuaries for sacrifices.16 On black- and red-figure vases,

Hom.h. Hestia, 1: There could be no banquet without the presence of Hestia. 13  Attic black-figure dinos, Sophilos, about 580 BC, London, BM, 1971.11-1.1, BAPD 350099. 14  Attic red-figure amphora fragment, Berlin Painter, 490-480 BC, Göttingen, AI, K 601, BAPD 2385. 15  McPhee, I. and Trendall, A.D. Greek red-figured fish plates, Beih. AntK 1987. 172 fig. 3, Sparidae (bream). 16  Gebauer 2002: 511-513; Karageorghis, V. 1970. Note on sigynnae and obeloi. In BCH 94: 35-44. 12 

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Figure 5. Detail, Fish of Amphitrite. © H. Dourdoumas of an assembly of gods and used instead of a sceptre, however, the depiction of the spit is unique.

clothed with a long and mostly richly folded chiton, splendid and loosely falling cloak was established on many vases. In his arm he held a kithara or a lyre. The deer is originally connected to his sister Artemis as ‘Potnia Theron’ or as a protector goddess of hunt, but was also shown on vases with Apollon and the Artemis.26 On the cup in Berlin, Apollo stands alone with his tortoise lyre, while the deer is depicted behind him. His sister is also present at this scene through the ascribed name ‘Artemis’ and the deer.

The painter of the cup definitely had knowledge of Demeter’s established depiction, as can be seen on the fragment of a cup in Athens,22 displaying the goddess wearing her polos and holding a bunch of grain or ears (Figure 6).23 The fragments of this cup show clearly the introduction of Heracles into Olympus (Figure 7). Therefore, the vase-painter was familiar with this mythical event. The Sosias painter certainly had assemblies of gods in his repertoire, as can be seen on other fragments. On the fragment in Athens,24 a god and a goddess holding a phiale are sitting side by side. A bowl fragment from the Beazley collection25 shows a goddess sitting on a lion’s footstool with a scepter beside her.

Hermes leads the procession of the arriving persons on the Berlin cup. Since Heracles was a mortal hero, Hermes very often acts as intermediary between gods and humans. Therefore, he is the only one who looks back at him. Hermes was known, among other things, both as a protector of the herds and also as a thief of animals. He usually carries a ram either under his arm27 or on his shoulder.28 However, the way

Even the ‘wrong’ name of Apollo (‘Artemis’) is at first sight incomprehensible. Apollo was well known to many contemporary viewers. His appearance as a young man,

Apollo, Artemis and a deer between them: Attic black-figure neckamphora, Leagros Group, 500-510 BC, Leiden, RO, XVI56, BAPD 302159; Attic red-figure psykter, Pan Painter, 480 BC, Munich, AS, J745, BAPD 206344; Attic red-figure pelike, Tyszkiewiez Painter, 490-480 BC, Bonn, AK, 75, BAPD 202455; Apollo and a deer without Artemis: Attic red-figure dinos, Berlin Painter, about 480 BC, Basel, AM, LU39, BAPD 308. 27  Hermes Kriophoros: bronze figurine, 500-490 BC, Boston, MFA, 99.489. 28  Attic red-figure cup, Epidromos Painter, 500 BC, Brussels, MR, A1378, BAPD 200979; Attic black-figure neckamphora, Swing Painter, 26 

Attic red-figure kantharos fragment, Sosias Painter, 500 BC, Athens, NM Acr, 2.556, BAPD 200109. 23  eg. Attic red-figure volute krater, Berlin Painter, 490 BC, Karlsruhe, BL, 68.101, BAPD 352484. 24  Attic red-figure cup fragment, Sosias Painter, 500 BC, Athens, NM Acr, 2.9, BAPD 200201. 25  Attic red-figure cup fragment, Sosias Painter, 500 BC, Oxford, AM, 1966.721, BAPD 275627. 22 

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Figure 6. Detail, Demeter. Attic red-figure kantharos (fragment), National Archaeological Museum, Athens. Copyright © Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports/Archaeological Receipts Fund.

Figure 7. Detail, Heracles. Attic red-figure kantharos (fragment), National Archaeological Museum, Athens. Copyright © Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports/Archaeological Receipts Fund. he carries the strong goat is uncommon, as he can hardly hold it in this way over long distances.

Heracles, although not shown in the middle, is the scene’s protagonist. He entered the circle of gods as usual beside Athena, hailing his godly father (Figure 8) on the opposite side with an extremely uncommon Ζευ φιλε: Dear Zeus, or friend Zeus. The exclamation and gesture29 of Heracles, the

540-530 BC, St. Petersburg, Hermitage, 2065, BAPD 301574; Hermes as a thief: Attic black-figure olpe, 520 BC, Paris, Louvre, F159, BAPD 330161; Hermes with Heracles and ram at a banquet: Attic red-figure cup, Ambrosios Painter, 520-500 BC, Florence, MAE, 73127, BAPD 201568.

Eg. Three athletes exclaim ‘o Herme’ having the same gesture: Attic red-figure cup, Douris, about 500 BC, Stuttgart, WL79.2, BAPD 29 

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Maria Christidis and Heinrike Dourdoumas – Once Again: A Sacrificing Goddess

Figure 8. Detail, Heracles. © H. Dourdoumas right raised open hand, connect both sides of this cup. This call is unique30 on attic vases however the lyric poet Theognis starts his pray to Zeus with ‘Ζευ φιλε’.

bullish and crude, and was regarded as a womanizer, who enjoyed all the pleasures of life. The hero was known for his preference for extended banquets with great quantity of food and wine.34 On this vessel the feast has not yet begun. In addition, Hestia (Goddess of the open hearth), Demeter (Goddess of grain) and Dionysus (God of wine - on side A) are present, representing all that is needed for a feast.35

Vase painters such as Euthymides, Euphronios, and other contemporaries often display the symposiasts on their vessels calling out to each other ‘χαῖρε’. However, such a friendly call cannot be found here, especially in connection with the godfather.31 The vase painters contributed more frequently ‘φιλε’, however without a textual context.32

Athena is shown by the Sosias painter as a caring goddess. She stands by Herakles in almost all living conditions. In this case, she takes Heracles into the assembly of the gods without having her warlike attributes,36 only in chiton and cloak

Heracles’ heroic deeds and adventures were a particularly popular subject for vase painters,33 as well as for the viewer and buyer. In contrast to the gentle hero Theseus, he was

with Athena: Attic bilingual amphora, Lysippides or Andokides Painter, 510 BC, Munich, SA, J388, BAPD 200009; with Athena, Dionysus and Ialos: Attic black-figure hydria, Madrid Painter, 520500 BC, Athens, NM, CC764, BAPD 301768; alone: Attic black-figure neckamphora, end of 6th century BC, Hamburg, MKG, 1917.470, BAPD 320076; with Dionysus and Heracles´ unrestrained consumption of wine: Attic red-figure cup, Skythes, 510 BC, New York, market, BAPD 352; Attic red-figure column krater Pan Painter, 470 BC, Berlin, AS F4027, BAPD 206280. Literature mentioned: Sophocles, The women of Trachis, Soph. Trach. 760-762 (Report of Hyllos, Heracles sacrified 100 animals to Zeus, including 12 oxen); Aristophanes, Frogs, Aristoph. Ran. 503-507 (Servant welcomes Heracles, announcing a great meal); Kallimachos, Artemis-Hymnus, Kall. h. 159-161 (waiting for Artemis’ return from the hunt, still has its ‘belly ‘); Intemperance of Heracles: Athen. 13,4 (50 women, daughters of Thestios in a week). 35  Cf. The procession of gods at the marriage of Peleus on the volute krater, Kleitias, Francois-Vase, 570 BC, Florence, MAE 4209, BAPD 300000. 36  E.g. Athena with aigis, helmet and lance, is involved in his adventures: Attic black-figure amphora, Antimenes Painter, 510 BC, 34 

9137. 30  The vokative ‘Ζευ’ was found in another example: Attic red-figure pelike, Plousios Painter, Rome, Vatican 413, BAPD 31764. Χαῖρεexclamations are often e.g. χαῖρε Σoσις (für Σοσι[α]ς?): Attic redfigure amphora, Euthymides, 500 BC, Paris, Louvre, G44, BAPD 200156: Immerwahr 1990: 66 no. 376. 31  Theognis, Elegies 373, Hansen, D.U. 2005. Theognis, Mimnermos, Phokylides: Frühe griechische Elegien. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft. We would like to thank Georg Gerleigner (CVA Erlangen) for the discussions related to his paper ‘Schön gieße ich…’ at the international conference ‘Greek vases as medium of communication’ Vienna 5-7.10.2017. 32  E.g. with πιλε (instead of φιλε) και: Attic red-figure cup Brygos Painter, 490-480 BC, Florence, MAE, 3949, BAPD 203988; with χαιρε and φιλε: Attic black-figure neckamphora, Leagros Painter, about 500 BC, Vienna, KHM, 3600, BAPD 351218. 33  Beazley Archive lists a total of 4198 entries, including 153 cups. Since 475 BC, the popularity has been greatly reduced (www.beazley. ox.ac.uk/index.htm., 13.04.2017).

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holding scepter or a lance in her left hand. Her right hand is on his shoulder, as if she had to push him gently, and to drive him towards Zeus.37

Hermonax.42 Their verses in everyday language in contrast to the high epic language provoked humor. A ‘translation’ into the visual medium, namely the mixing of the sublime world of gods and human everyday life occurs on both outsides of the Berlin cup.43

The scene on the inside of the cup shows a very serious, sensitive image: Achilles dresses the wound of his friend Patroclus. This account points to the Trojan war and the cruel destiny of the hero Achilles. On the other hand, the scene on the outside narrates the positive end of the hero Heracles, who is considered to be admitted to Olympus because of his laborious life.

Similar to Archilochos and Hermonax, who created a cheerful mood among their audience with their iambic poetry, Sosias painter has fashioned his drinking cup into a fun conversation starter for the symposium, by commingling the divine world with everyday human life.

This joyous event turns out to be more humorous, almost to the point of parody, particularly on the side B of the cup. Viewers and buyers of vases knew gods and their attributes and observed their images on many vessels. Sosias painter inserts ‘wrong’ or extraneous details into the well-known scheme ‘assembly of the gods’ or ‘introduction of Heracles into Olympus’ accurately.

The potter Sosias and the Sosias painter belonged to the circle of Pioneers, known for their humor. They worked together in the potter’s quarter of Athens, knew each other and their creative quirks well. They attributed their name as participants of the symposia to their vessels, loved to formulate exclamations and liked to poke fun at each other.44 Whether the depiction of the assembly of gods on the Berlin cup was ‘merely’ meant as a joke among colleagues, or the Sosias painter had gotten tired of painting the same scene again and again, or whether he was painting the picture out of a pure whim, cannot be ensured. Or did the potter as a lowly craftsman in Athens want to bring the gods down to his social level and to turn the divine assembly into an ordinary appearance? 45

He alters the ‘normal’, well-established depiction, familiar to the viewer due to several elements (gods with attributes phialai, Heracles), by juxtaposing details which are not originally related.38 The expectation of the viewer is not fulfilled, the contradiction of mismatched elements makes them feel surprised, thus they begin to laugh.39

Among these proposals, perhaps the real motivation of the painter can be found. In any case, we, the contemporary viewers should be aware of the excellent quality of the vessel, the tenderly drawn details and visible sense of humor of the vase painter. Maybe we could learn to ‘re-read’ the vase and allow new interpretations as well to understand the depiction as humorous or implying parody.46

At first, the spit of Demeter comes up, which is not only unusual in itself, but the spit is also adorned with inexplicable plants or spices and a small trident on the top. It becomes an important tool for the viewer and is intended to be used for the sacrifice and the meal in honour of the new god Heracles. In addition, Hermes carries a fat ram, which is ideal as meat roast. The food fish of Amphitrite is not a mistake but a deliberately inserted element. The gods behave in this case as humans who prepare a feast. This and also the other, abovementioned elements dethrone them and allow the viewer to laugh at them.40 Heracles was a popular figure, which was portrayed humorously in many depictions and literary sources. Here he appears just as a hero: with a lion’s skin worn as a cloak, his club and a quiver to the side. Only his informal greeting ‘dear or friend Zeus’ is surprising. Has the son just talked to his father? Should the kinship be emphasized in this way?

Summary Observers and purchasers of Greek vases were aware of depictions of gods and their attributes. On the cup of the Sosias Painter in Berlin, the already well-known pattern of a divine assembly was modified with an unusual element (spit and leaves at the top) or rather with inappropriate features. This can only mean that the intention of the vase painter was to arouse a comic effect. He transformed the

This cup was used at symposia,41 the best occasion to discuss, to philosophize, to amuse oneself and not least to laugh about the depiction on the outside. The participants of symposia knew and appreciated the iambic poetry of Archilochus or

As a part of the entertainment in the symposia the iambic poetic products of Archilochus or Hipponax were certainly comparable with humorous vessels. In their poems, which reflected the everyday world, the personal mockery of the poet was expressed in an easy way. 43  Hedreen 2009: 200-239. 44  Inscription of names: Attic red-figure amphora, Euthymides, 510500 BC, Munich, SA, 2307, BAPD 200160, Immerwahr 1990: 65 no. 369; Attic red-figure amphora, Euthymides, 510 BC, Munich, SA, 2308, BAPD 200161, Immerwahr 1990: 65 no 370; Attic red-figure krater (fragm.) Euthymides, Morgantina, Museo, 58.2382, BAPD 200145; τὶν τάνδε λατάσσο, Λέαγρε: attic red-figure Psykter, Euphronios, St. Petersburg, Hermitage, ST1670, BAPD 200078; Immerwahr 1990: 6364 no 361; cheers to Euthymides: Attic red-figure hydria, Phintias, 510 BC, Munich, SA, 2421, BAPD 200126, Immerwahr 1990: 67 no 389; ‘speaking’ names: Attic red-figure stamnos of Smikros, about 510 BC, Brussels, MR, A717, BAPD 200102, Immerwahr 1990: 68 no 400. 45  As Mitchell refers to superior beings and heroes, Mitchell 2012: 95, 102. 46  Mitchell 2004: 32. 42 

London, BM, B161, BAPD 320208, LIMC II,1 s. v. Athena 1004 Nr. 518 (P. Demargne); also in an assembly of gods on the occasion of the introduction of Heracles into Olympus: Attic red-figure cup, Oltos, 510 BC, Tarquinia, MNT, RC6848, BAPD 200502. 37  Heracles’ fear of the godfather is more frequently discussed. So he turned away from him, as if he were fleeing: Attic black-figure amphora, Mastos Painter, 530 BC, Amiens, Picardie, 3057.179.40, BAPD 306585; Athena pulls him by the hand to Zeus: Attic black-figure lip cup, Phrynos Painter, 550 BC, London, BM, B424, BAPD 301068; Attic red-figure stamnos, Painter of London E445, 470-460 BC, Triest, MSA, S424, BAPD 202325. 38  Mitchell 2004: 5. 39  Mitchell 2007: 209. 213. 40  Mitchell 2012: 144. 41  Mitchell 2012: 281, Most ‘humour’ vessels are found in the context of symposia, at least 131 cups.

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Maria Christidis and Heinrike Dourdoumas – Once Again: A Sacrificing Goddess

‘normal’ depiction of the vessel into a parody through the juxtaposition of originally unrelated details.47

Gebauer, J. 2002. Pompe und Thysia. Attische Tieropferdarstellungen auf schwarz- und rotfigurigen Vasen. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag. Hedreen, G. 2009. Iambic Caricature and Self-representation as a Model for Understanding Internal References among Red-figure Vase-Painters and Potters of the Pioneer Group. In D.Yatromanolakis (ed.) An Archeology of Representations. Ancient Greek vase-Painting and contemporary methodologies: 200-239. Athens: 2009. Himmelmann, N. 1998. The divine assembly on the Sosias cup. In Reading Greek Art. Essays by Nikolaus Himmelmann: 139-155. Princeton: University Press. Immerwahr, H.R. 1990. Attic Script, a survey. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Knaus, F. (ed.) 2012. Die Unsterblichen Götter Griechenlands. Lindenberg im Allgäu: Kunstverlag Fink. Kunze-Götte, E. 2006. Myrte als Attribut und Ornament auf attischen Vasen. Kilchberg: Akanthus. Kron, U. 1971. Zum Hypogäum von Paestum. In JdI 86, 1971, 126145. Mitchell, A.G. 2004. Humour in greek vase-painting. In RA,1,3–32. Mitchell, A.G. 2007. Ancient greek visual puns: a case study in visual humor. In D.E. Popa and S. Attardo (ed.) New Approaches to the linguistics of Humour: 197-216. Galati: Academica. Mitchell, A.G. 2009. Greek Vase-Painting and the origins of visual humour. Cambridge: University Press. Peschlow-Bindokat, A. 1972. Demeter und Persephone in der attischen Kunst des 6. bis 4. Jahrhunderts v. Chr. In JdI 87, 1972, 60-157. Shapiro, A. 1989. Art and cult under the tyrants in Athens. Mainz am Rhein: Philipp von Zabern. Schefold, K. 1978. Die Götter- und Heldensagen der Griechen in der spätarchaischen Kunst. München: Hirmer. Simon, E. 1953. Opfernde Götter. Berlin: Mann. Simon, E. 1981. Die griechischen Vasen². München: Hirmer. van Straten, F., 1995. Hierà kalá: images of animal sacrifice in archaic and classical Greece. Leiden: Brill. Tiverios, M. 1977. Sosias kai Euphronios. In AE 1977. Vierneisel, K. and Kaeser, B. 1990 (ed.) Kunst der Schale, Kultur des Trinkens. München: Staatliche Antikensammlungen und Glyptothek. Wehgartner, I. 1991. Schale (Typus B). In E. Goemann and L. Giuliani (ed) Euphronios, der Maler: eine Ausstellung in der Sonderausstellungshalle der Staatlichen Museen Preußischer Kulturbesitz, Berlin-Dahlem, 20.3.-26.5.1991. 244-248. Mailand: Fabbri. Wolf, S.R. 1993. Herakles beim Gelage: eine Motiv- und Bedeutungsgeschichte. Untersuchung des Bildes in der archaisch- frühklassischen Vasenmalerei. Köln: Böhlau. Wünsche, R. 2003. Herakles - Herkules. München: Staatliche Antikensammlungen und Glyptothek.

The expectation of the observer is not met, and the contradiction achieved by the incongruous elements evokes laughter.48 This vessel was used at symposia and the depiction on it gave the participants the opportunity to discuss, philosophize and laugh about it. Museum Abbreviations Amiens, Picardie Musée de Picardie Amiens Athens, NM Acr National Archaeological Museum Athens, Acropoliscollection Basel, AS Antikenmuseum Basel und Sammlung Ludwig  Berlin, AS Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Antikensammlung Bonn, AK Akademisches Kunstmuseum - Antikensammlung der Universität Bonn Boston, MFA Museum of Fine Arts Boston Brussels, MR Musées Royaux des Beaux-Arts de Belgique Cincinnati, AM Art Museum Cincinnati Dresden, SKA Staatliche Kunstsammlungen Dresden Ferrara, MN Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Ferrara Florence, MAE Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Firenze Göttingen, AI Archäologisches Institut der Georg-AugustUniversität Göttingen Hamburg, MKG Museum für Kunst und Gewerbe Hamburg Karlsruhe, BL Badisches Landesmuseum Karlsruhe Leiden, RO Rijksmuseum van Oudheden Leiden London, BM British Museum London Munich, SA Staatliche Antikensammlungen München New York, MM Metropolitan Museum of Art New York Oxford, AM Ashmolean Museum of art and archaeology Oxford Paris, Louvre Musée du Louvre Paris Rome, Vatican Museo Gregoriano Etrusco Vaticano Rome, MNVG Museo Nazionale Etrusco di Villa Giulia St. Petersburg, Hermitage State Hermitage Museum St. Petersburg Stuttgart, WL Landesmuseum Württemberg Stuttgart Tarquinia, MNT Museo Archeologico Nazionale Tarquiniense Triest, MSA Museo Storia ed Arte Triest Vienna, KHM Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien Bibliography BAPD. Beazley Archive Pottery Database www.beazley.ox.ac. uk/index.htm., 13.04.2017). Detienne, M. 2000. Die Adonisgärten: Gewürze und Düfte in der griechischen Mythologie. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft.

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Mitchell 2004: 5. Mitchell 2007: 209. 213.

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