Neoteros: Studies in Bronze Age Aegean Art and Archaeology in Honor of Professor John G. Younger on the Occasion of His Retirement (Aegaeum) 9789042941793, 9789042941809, 9042941790

Table of contents :
CONTENTS
PREFACE
MY FIRST 74 YEARS JOHN GRIMES YOUNGER (1 SEPT 1945)
BIBLIOGRAPHY OF JOHN G. YOUNGER
A. SCRIPTS AND LANGUAGES
B. WRITING AND ADMINISTRATION
C. GENDER
D. ART, SEALS AND ICONOGRAPHY
E. ARCHAEOLOGY
F. RECEPTION

Citation preview

AEGAEUM 44 Annales liégeoises et PASPiennes d’archéologie égéenne


 STUDIES IN BRONZE AGE AEGEAN ART AND ARCHAEOLOGY IN HONOR OF PROFESSOR JOHN G. YOUNGER ON THE OCCASION OF HIS RETIREMENT

Edited by Brent DAVIS and Robert LAFFINEUR

PEETERS LEUVEN - LIÈGE 2020

AEGAEUM 44 Annales liégeoises et PASPiennes d’archéologie égéenne

NEΩTEΡOΣ





STUDIES IN BRONZE AGE AEGEAN ART AND ARCHAEOLOGY IN HONOR OF PROFESSOR JOHN G. YOUNGER ON THE OCCASION OF HIS RETIREMENT

Edited by Brent DAVIS and Robert LAFFINEUR

PEETERS LEUVEN - LIÈGE 2020

Illustrations on cover pages: Ivory figurine of a bull-leaper from the palace at Knossos and serpentine “Harvester vase” from Ayia Triada, Herakleion, Archaeological Museum (photos R. Laffineur).




















A catalogue record for this book is available from the Library of Congress.
D/2020/0602/22 Impression et dépositaire :

PEETERS nv Bondgenotenlaan 153, B-3000 Leuven (Belgique) © A.s.b.l. Aegaeum, Aux Piédroux 120, B-4032 Liège (Belgique) et Program in Aegean Scripts and Prehistory (PASP), The University of Texas at Austin, 2020 ISBN 978-90-429-4179-3 eISBN 978-90-429-4180-9 Reproduction et traduction, même partielles, interdites sans l’autorisation de l’éditeur, pour tous pays.




































































Munich, Glyptothek, 1994 (photo P. Rehak)

CONTENTS Preface John G. Younger’s vita: “My first 74 years” Bibliography of John G. Younger

vii ix xvii

A. SCRIPTS AND LANGUAGES Thomas G. PALAIMA Problems in Minoan and Mycenaean Writing Style and Practice: The Strange Case of *33 ra3 on Pylos Tablet Aa 61

3

Yves DUHOUX Minoan Language or Languages?

15

Brent DAVIS and Miguel VALÉRIO Names and Designations of People in Linear A: A Contextual Study of Tablets Ht 85 and 117

23

Alexander UCHITEL Mycenaean ka-ma-e-u and Sumerian engar

33

B. WRITING AND ADMINISTRATION Ilse SCHOEP The Development of Writing on Crete in EM III-MM IIB (ca 2200-1750/00 B.C.)

43

Maurizio DEL FREO Wool Working at Hagia Triada: The HT 24 Tablet and the 45 Noduli from the Quartiere Sudovest

55

C. GENDER Dimitra KOKKINIDOU In Pursuit of the Goddess: Neolithic Imagery, Marija Gimbutas, and Debates in Feminism and Archaeology

67

Susan Heuck ALLEN Engaged Scholarship in Eraly Aegean Archaeology: The Liberal Education of Harriet Boyd, Survival and Success in Crossing the Gender Divide in Scholarship on Greece

81

Loeta TYREE, Louise A. HITCHCOCK and Christopher BARNETT E-QE-TA: Conceptions of Warrior Beauty and Constructions of Masculinity on Postpalatial Crete

91

Lyvia MORGAN Colours of Skin: White Taureadors and Yellow Boys

113

D. ART, SEALS AND ICONOGRAPHY Judith WEINGARTEN, Martina POLIG and Sorin HERMON The Palaikastro Master’s Ring and the Griffin Warrior’s Combat Agate: Drawing Conclusions

131

Helen HUGHES-BROCK Minoan Engraved Ringstones and a Unique Polyonymous Sealstone with Ramifications

141

Olga KRZYSZKOWSKA A Traveller Through Time and Space: The Cut Style Seal from the Megaron at Midea

155

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CONTENTS

Lucy GOODISON “Seeing” Stars… or Suns?

169

Marianna NIKOLAIDOU Blessed (?) Charms: The Figure-Eight Shield in the Aegean Arts of Personal Adornment

181

Josephine VERDUCI Minoan “Warrior Graves”: Military Identity, Cultural Interactions, and the Art of Personal Adornment

193

Anne P. CHAPIN and Marie Nicole PAREJA Peacock or Poppycock? Investigations into Exotic Aimal Imagery in Minoan and Cycladic Art

215

Joan ARUZ Art and Transcendence: Another Look at Bronze Age Images of Human-Animal Composites

227

Maia POMADÈRE and Katerina PAPAYIANNIS The Cat: an Exotic Animal in the Minoan World?

237

E. ARCHAEOLOGY Metaxia TSIPOPOULOU Burial Containers in the Pre- and Proto-Palatial Cemetery of Petras, Siteia

251

Christina MARANGOU Rocks and the Sea at Myrina Kastro, Lemnos Island

261

Giorgos VAVOURANAKIS Liquid Consumption and the Mechanics of Ritual in Late Prepalatial and Old Palace Crete

271

Vassilis PETRAKIS The Adventures of the Mycenaean Palatial Megaron

283

F. RECEPTION Christine MORRIS The Usable Past: Minoans Reimagined

313

PREFACE In the spring of 2016, I received an email from longtime friend and colleague Dr. Eric Welch, who was then lecturing in Jewish Studies and the archaeology of Israel at the University of Kansas under John Younger’s supervision. “It’s not long before John retires,” he said, “and he clearly deserves a Festschrift. What do you say we do this for him?”1 I’d not known about John’s plans to retire, but my immediate reaction was: “Absolutely.” How could it be otherwise? I’ve known John for more than a dozen years now – not nearly as long as many of you reading this Preface have known him –, but it was quite clear even to me what an impact his life, his work and his scholarship have had on our field... or more properly, our fields, because John is a prototypical Renaissance polymath, whose expertise extends far beyond the boundaries of any one field. His contributions have quite simply changed the way we think about the ancient world. Beginning his academic career in Classical Studies, he rapidly extended his expertise into prehistoric (Bronze Age) Aegean archaeology, art and architecture, with a particular focus on ancient stone-working... and from this interest came his seminal studies on the iconography of Bronze Age Aegean stone seals, a field on which he has made an indelible mark. He also branched out into Jewish Studies, becoming an expert on early synagogues. His lifelong activism for LGBTQI+ and minority rights, and his early embrace of feminism and the crucial role that women have played in the past (not just in archaeology, but in the ancient world itself) have also informed his teaching and studies regarding ancient and modern notions about gender and sexuality, and these studies have greatly enriched our views of the ancient world, while going a long way toward counteracting the persistently male-centric interpretations of the ancient world characteristic of the past few centuries. He has been a pioneer in the establishment of LGBTQI+ academic programs in the U.S., and in the integration of modern technologies (especially computers) into Classics and archaeology. He has established himself as an international authority on Linear A, the undeciphered writing system of the Minoans; his website containing the corpus of that script is second to none in terms of its value to scholars working on Linear A. His recent and continuing investigations into the identification of prehistoric Aegean myths promises to add yet another facet to what is already a brilliant diamond of a career. Thus putting together a Festschrift for someone like John was clearly not going to be a straightforward task. In the end, John’s own character – fittingly, I think – guided the final form of this Festschrift in two important ways. First: after an extensive appeal to colleagues for a photo of John suitable as a frontispiece for this Festschrift, Robert Laffineur and I found ourselves faced with a problem: apparently, John is not particularly fond of being photographed spontaneously (an aversion I share, I might add), so our search for a fitting photo was fruitless. In the end, we decided on the rather unusual tactic of asking John himself to supply the image for his own Festschrift, even though that meant informing him of the existence of the volume (though all other details about the work were kept from him). The result is the photograph that serves as this volume’s frontispiece, of John in Munich in 1994. The photo seems perfect: both the younger and the older Younger are there in that image, and the fact that the photo was taken by Paul Rehak seems both fitting and poignant. The second way in which John’s character helped shape the form of this Festschrift has to do with the fact that John’s expertise lies across so many different fields that it was virtually impossible to find any single person who could write his vita properly. So again, we made the unorthodox decision to ask John to write his own vita... and the result, the first piece in this volume, may in fact be unique amongst Festschriften, in that it’s an extremely personal vita written from the point-of-view of the honoree himself. But as those of you who know John will surely agree, this vita is not just intensely interesting – it’s 1

In 2018, Eric was appointed Senior Lecturer at Lewis Honors College at the University of Kentucky, and due to his duties there, he had to withdraw from this project... but it’s nevertheless important to acknowledge him as the instigator of this Festschrift for John.

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quintessentially Youngerian: John himself is there from beginning to end. The piece is imbued with his personality – that no-nonsense persona of someone who cares intensely about what matters most... reliably irascible toward any kind of foolishness or injustice, and always completely genuine. With John, what you see is always what you get... and since Festschriften are, after all, meant to encapsulate and celebrate the life of an important scholar, it seems especially appropriate that John himself has been able to contribute so personally to his own Festschrift in these two important ways. We think this volume is a wonderful celebration of John’s life so far... and none of us should take lightly his vow to live to 148: if anyone can do this, he can. All of us who have worked to create this book bless him and his husband Cody, and wish them untold years of prosperity, health and happiness. Brent DAVIS

MY FIRST 74 YEARS JOHN GRIMES YOUNGER (1 SEPT 1945- ) Trails Soon after I was born (in Columbus Ohio) my father’s father died, and dad packed mom and me into a trailer and drove us out to northern California, to a small house outside Mill Valley, north of San Francisco. For the first nine years of my life, I was an “only” child, roaming the ridge that led from our house through cow- (and bull-) infested fields to an abandoned army post overlooking San Francisco bay. On my eighth birthday, my parents gave me an open-ended bus ticket, which allowed me to visit, by myself, the Spanish missions along the California coast. I would draw the buildings during the day and sleep in a nearby field, in a sleeping bag, at night. After my sister was born, in 1954, we moved into town. Behind our new house was a fire trail that looped around to Mt Tamalpais. On the weekends I would roam these firebreaks and hike the Dipsea Trail (some 10 miles to Stinson Beach and back). As my father got more successful, he indulged in some luxuries: he bought a sailboat, but soon developed a fear of open water, so I learned to sail, going out by myself into the San Francisco bay. When I was in high school, dad bought a horse but it soon became clear he didn’t like heights, so I took care of the horse, riding both Western and English saddles on the trails of Mt Tam. Music and Stone At age 13, my life took a turn. I was enrolled in an experimental program, designed by a fierce educator, Martha Robinson. One teacher taught us science and math, another Latin, another German, while Robinson taught us art and literature. We memorized poems, studied paintings, and went to San Francisco on Wednesdays to visit Golden Gate Park and to attend the symphony. I remember a concert by Glenn Gould (singing almost inaudibly to his Bach and Schönberg) and my first opera (Strauss’s “Die Frau ohne Schatten,” which surprisingly did not kill my interest in opera). I took to music and began studying piano. In high school I added violin and played in the Marin Youth Symphony. My high school music teacher foisted instrument after instrument on me and had me practice each one until I could produce an acceptable sound and play a simple melody; I thus worked my through almost every instrument, including garden hose: that paid off in 1993 when I was allowed to sound the Malia stone triton shell. The eighth-grade visits to Golden Gate Park included the De Young Museum of Art. And it was there I fell under the spell of Cellini’s bust of Cosimo I de’ Medici; it had only recently been acquired and the guards were excited. Stone had always “grabbed” me: I have always had a rock collection – it’s now enormous. Though the guards did not allow me to touch the marble bust (Pentelic!), they did teach me to appreciate how light glances off the modeled surface: “you can see the tool marks.” Such observations have allowed me to reconstruct the process of sculpting the Parthenon frieze (1997, 2004), to deduce that the sculptures on the Temple of Zeus at Olympia were installed unfinished (2009), and that the Elgin plaques from the Treasury of Atreus are Minoan spolia recut to fill the relieving triangle. Higher Ed I entered Stanford University in the fall of 1963. Dad had often told me he had my college education paid for, but when I tried to enroll in classes, I found out there was no money. So, I worked my way through college: the university bursar found me scholarships and loans and I found jobs (a music store, a fish and chips restaurant, the university cafeteria). Four years later I had a BA in history, having

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also satisfied the requirements for degrees in music and classics. In the summer of my sophomore year, 1965, I worked in a brewery in Winterthur Switzerland and made enough money to buy an old motorcycle, a black BMW 1000 cc, with which I toured Greece that autumn. When I returned to college in the winter of 1966 I took Near Eastern archaeology, ancient Greek, and a Greek art course with T.B.L. Webster, who had me catalogue the Greek and Roman lamps in the basement of the university museum. I was hooked. After college, I entered graduate school in Classics at the University of Cincinnati and received a MA in 1969. As soon as I submitted my thesis (on Early Minoan sealstones), I left for Greece, for my first excavation (Ayia Irini, Kea) and for the year-long program at the American School of Classical Studies. Afterward, I remained in Athens, writing my PhD dissertation (Late Bronze Age sealstones) and excavating in the summers (Knossos, Ayios Stephanos, Phylakopi). My last year in Greece, 1973-1974, was “interesting”: I taught high school at the Campion School in Nea Psykhiko, witnessed the student uprising that November, and saw the downfall of the military junta and the resignation of President Nixon the following summer. Late in the spring of 1974, I was offered a teaching position at Duke University and I accepted; my wife decided to stay in Greece and we separated. Before moving to Durham NC, I flew out to Mill Valley to inform my parents that I had a university job, that after six years of marriage my wife and I were getting a divorce, and that I was gay. My sister said that she wasn’t surprised, my mother asked if I was happy, and father wanted to know how he had caused all this. Sex and Activism I had always known, since childhood, that the way most people lived (8-to-5 job, married with children) wasn’t for me. I occasionally had girlfriends in grade school and in college I dated one woman seriously enough to marry her (1968). But from eighth grade on, I had had fleeting sexual encounters with men – and these did not stop when I got married. When she and I decided to divorce, I also decided that living gay was more honest than living straight. I thus came out publicly at age 29 as gay and stayed that way. Living gay is honest, but it hasn’t been easy. Since my late 20s, I have had four long-term relationships with a man. My first ended when he was killed by a hit-and-run taxi driver – the driver was never caught. I went celibate for a few years while I concentrated on publishing articles and trying to get tenure. The first attempt at tenure failed because I was openly gay. A member of my department wrote a letter to the tenure committee condemning me, I was denied tenure, and he was so proud of his success that he mimeographed the letter and sent it to area churches. My next door neighbor gave me a copy – and I took it to the president of the university, former North Carolina governor Terry Sanford. I gave him the letter and asked what my being gay had to do with my teaching, research, and service (the three criteria for tenure). I remember how Sanford sat silent for a while, and then answered “nothing; it has nothing to do with it.” He convened a second tenure committee that Fall and I was approved. It was 1982. To celebrate, I got my left ear pierced, planted asparagus, and began a second long-term relationship with a man; it lasted 13 years. That spring, at the first meeting of the university Board of Trustees, I announced that I was going to do everything I possibly could to make sure that gays and lesbians would never again be in danger of losing their job at Duke. To the present day, I have been an activist for minority rights: at Duke, I spearheaded movements and chaired committees that resulted in improvements: for instance, a standalone academic program in the “Study of Sexualities,” health benefits for unmarried partners of university employees (“same-sex spousal equivalency”), the first LGBTQI+ course (“Perspectives in Gay, Lesbian, and Bisexual Studies”), a website and email discussion list that monitored academic LGBTQI+ programs in the United States and Canada (it is still active), and a permanent, standing, university committee that evaluated the academic environment for minorities and which reported directly to the university president. In 1988, I began studying feminism. It was then unusual for men to identify as feminists, but Duke had won the NCAA basketball championship for two years and departments received money to hire

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exceptional faculty: the English department hired the queer theorist Eve Sedgwick who moved into the office next to me. I began reading her work and grappling with terminology. Feminist principles then began influencing my research. In April 1992, I attended the Aegaeum conference in Tasmania and gave a paper on Aegean jewelry; it was on the plane over that I met Paul Rehak – thus beginning my third long-term relationship. Rehak and I began collaborating on many archaeological projects and reporting together at conferences. Our most intensive collaboration resulted in our review of LM Crete (2001); it was four years in the making. In 1995, we attended the Third International Women in Archaeology conference in Sydney, Australia, two of the (only) four men who participated (Bernard Knapp and Ian Hodder were the other two). After Rehak was denied tenure at his own university, Loyola Chicago, for “uncollegiality” he came to Duke where he found work teaching in the First Year Experience. When he was denied a permanent position in my Department of Classical Studies, he applied for, and got, a tenure-track position at the University of Kansas; we moved there in 2001. That summer, I was offered a spousal accommodation position to start in the Fall the year after; I taught my last semester at Duke, Fall of 2001, sold my house, and moved permanently to Lawrence, Kansas, that Spring. Paul died of AIDS in 2004. That year my book, Sex in the Ancient World, was published in hard cover before appearing on the internet. After Paul died, I started work editing his unfinished manuscript on the emperor Augustus, Imperium and Cosmos. We had toured Rome together several times, so I was familiar with the general outline, the history of Augustus’s building program in the Campus Martius. In Rome, we tracked down every obelisk and paced out the horologium solarium, and we visited peripheral monuments like Gaius’s cenotaph in Limyra, Turkey, and Numidian mausolea in Tunisia. The Aegean conference in Rethymnon on gender and sexuality (2004, publication in 2009) was dedicated to Paul, and it was then I began creating social interpretations of Minoan iconography, starting with Minoan depictions of the “distaff” line (2009, mother, daughter, and granddaughter), the West House fresco, Akrotiri, as a Minoan portolan (2011), and MM II as a watershed in Minoan selfconsciousness. Computers and the Internet Soon after my appointment at Duke University (1974), I began attending computer programing classes, becoming involved in a federally funded project designing foreign language fonts, pixel by pixel, and writing interactive computerized language courses for the Defense Language Institute of Monterey. My two favorite projects resulted in a polytonic Greek font, which could add diacritics to any individual letter, and a classical Arabic font, which I rewired an IBM Selectrix typewriter to print, right to left. In 1982 I bought my first personal computer, an IBM that came unassembled like an Erector Set. It came with the earliest word-processing program, EasyWriter. I was fascinated and wrote to acquire a sitelicense for distributing the program on campus for free; I spent weekends copying the program onto black floppy disks and setting up distribution stalls on campus. Soon, most of the student body was submitting their term papers printed by dot-matrix printers. I began myself to test this new program by entering Minoan seal iconography into the database program DBase II, generating a text organized like an outline with indented subdivisions. It took me about two years to prepare the basic text, another year to “massage” the results and to print the catalog in two columns with pagination and captions to computer-generated illustrations. Bristol Classical Press (John Betts, executive editor) published the camera-ready text in 1988, when computer-generated books were still novelties, mine among the first academic ten. Five years later, 1993, I published my second computer-generated book, Bronze Age Seals in their Middle Phase, again in camera-ready form (SIMA 102). At almost the same time, Rehak and I established “AegeaNet” (1993-present), a listserv or discussion list focusing on the prehistoric Aegean. At the time it was one of only a few discussion lists on classical and archaeological subjects, and we founders and managers of these collaborated extensively at the beginning to produce models of practice and principles of good “netiquette” (email behavior), overseen to some degree by the federal government. In the 1990s and early 2000s several of these

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discussion lists died or were disbanded briefly (like ANE), leaving AegeaNet the oldest, continually operating email discussion on an ancient topic. While discussions on AegeaNet can become passionate (it has over 1200 subscribers), the list has also served to focus attention on important topics, like the first appearance of equids in the Aegean (EM III Ayia Triada) and the horse (Troy VI). During this time, too, Rehak and I edited book reviews together for the American Journal of Archaeology (1996-2004, me alone to 2007). This immersion in the internet led to my series, “Caught in the Web,” in the quarterly journal Biblical Archaeologist/Near Eastern Archaeology (1995-1998). Submitting a short editorial on internet innovations every three months made me pay attention to VR, “Moos,” open access, and the development of cloud-based computing and sourcing. In turn, this immersion led to my becoming chair of the Technology Committee of the American School of Classical Studies (2009-2014), functioning as a liaison between the Agora and Corinth programmers and the Managing Committee in New York and Princeton. The programmers were developing open-access software for the School’s archaeological data, a sensitive topic since much of the basic data (notebooks, photographs) were still unpublished. With a few conferences and lots of meetings on both sides of the Atlantic we managed sensible solutions. Although I have enjoyed researching and writing all my studies, several have given me special pleasure: my small book, Music in the Aegean Bronze Age (1998); the Hesperia article on the sculptures from the Temple of Zeus at Olympia (2009), which Rehak and I had been preparing for more than a decade though eventually it fell to me to complete alone; and my cloud-sourced websites on LGBTQI+ academic programs and on Linear A. Since websites are globally accessible they can be constantly updated to incorporate contributions from the public. My website on LGBTQI+ academic programs (1997 to present) has charted the growth of such programs in US colleges and universities. At first, such programs were so rare (like my stand-alone program in the Study of Sexualities) that they attracted national attention: Mike Wallace devoted a segment of his TV News program “60 Minutes” to the Sexualities program at Duke (March 22, 1998). Reactions to this exposure were so electric that we forged ahead and, that May, conducted the first Lavender Graduation ceremony at Duke and began a new Freshman-only program on “Diversity and Identity” that Fall (first year students in the program lived together and took three of their four courses in the program). At present, almost every university and college in the US and Canada has some kind of LGBTQI+ academic program, services, and resources for students. With Linear A, I began making an on-line phonetic transcription of the texts presented in GORILA (1976-1985, with permission) in the hope of making the material available to all in an easily accessible form and to solicit observations and contributions from the interested public. Contributions are monitored and acknowledged with gratitude and a separate website lists updates. Much is now known about Linear A: William Brice long ago established the palaeography of the script; Yves Duhoux pointed to the many prefixes and suffixes and suggested the language may have been agglutinative (if so, it’s probably not related to any known language); and Brent Davis has deduced the probable syntax of the language and that the Libation Formula is a dedication formula. Davis and I consulted with the Unicode Standard Committee to set and publish Linear A’s in 2014. My own contributions include deducing the meanings of some words and logograms and some Minoan administrative/scribal practices like the “Continuity Principle” of arranging lists and “Hyphenization” of separating prefixes, base words, and suffixes on separate lines. Theater As if I didn’t have enough outlets, I have been involved with theater since childhood. My earliest role was for an article and photoshoot on child hoodlums for the newspaper “Independent Journal” of San Rafael. Other parts came quickly: in High School I won the first annual Shakespeare contest and played “Enoch Snow” in Rodgers and Hammerstein’s “Carousel.” After I moved to Durham NC (1974), I became active in several theater groups. The most memorable year was 1982-1983: I directed Gilbert & Sullivan’s “Mikado” with Poobah and Katisha in a S&M relationship and the song “Three Little Maids

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from School” danced as a cancan. Perhaps my weirdest role was that of “Satyros,” a “sad and ugly slave” in Maxwell Anderson’s “Barefoot in Athens” about the trial of Socrates; that role I took on with only a week of rehearsal. The play ran for two long weekends, usually with an audience only for the Sunday matinees (we performed the play in the basement of a church). The director had no control over the cast, and the last performance dissolved into chaos. After I moved to Lawrence, I auditioned for the English Alternative Theater directed by awardwinning playwrite Paul Lim. My first role was as a bear (in brown pajamas) that spouted philosophy as he ate people. Another fun part was the title role in “Boy Gets Girl” by Rebecca Gilman, in which I (a “fem’nist” stalker) trashes a woman’s apartment, kicking and throwing furniture around: I love playing “heavies.” Another “heavy” role that was fun to do was King Creon in “Antigone” by Sophocles, reworked by Hölderlin, Brecht, and Judith Malina. By the time we got to it, the play was still recognizably Sophoclean but also socialistic (Brecht) and insanely violent (Malina); the local newspaper called me the “Creon from hell.” Unfortunately Lim retired in 2012 and EAT ceased: my last role was as a blind man who poisoned people with methanol making them go blind, too – that was fun. Research & Publications While touring Greece in the Fall of 1965, I found myself most interested in the processes of working stone: unfinished sculptures lay in the quarries, tool marks were obvious, there were mortises for attaching sculptures to walls, and discreet stages of finish. It did not matter if I was looking at sculpture or at architecture: it was stone and process. Early on, I began a catalogue of unfinished temples, discovering quickly there were four phases of construction at the end of each of which a temple could be left unfinished. During several summers in the 1980s, I interned myself with tomb sculptors outside the First National Cemetery in Athens, learning basic carving techniques, including copying with the pointing machine. In 1990 I spent several weeks studying the Parthenon and Bassae friezes in the British Museum (4 am to 8 am, alone with just a guard, ladder, and lights). Since stone is stone and carving techniques have not change in millennia, I could apply to the small scale of sealstones the processes learned from studying large scale sculpture and architecture. The chronology of seals thus charted the changing developments in how the surface and iconographic elements were sculpted. The series “Masters and Workshops” of seven articles (Kadmos 19821989) fleshed out the closing chapter of my PhD dissertation: this identified groups of Late Bronze Age seals that exhibited specific technical traits (for example, animal eyes whose shape changed from a modeled ellipse to a large dot to a ring around a dot to a small isolated dot). Since the dissertation concerned only seals from dated contexts, I could date the appearance of each technical/iconographic trait. I started the Kadmos series with John Betts, and together we laid out principles and procedures, but Betts soon left the project and I continued on my own. After an impromptu seminar at the office of the Corpus der minoischen und mykenischen Siegel in Marburg, Germany, in 1984, I retitled the series to “Stylistic Groups,” with a detailed prologue explaining the change in terminology (1985, “Stylistic Groups” IV). The entire series thus detailed the technical and stylistic development of seals in the Late Bronze Age down to the destruction of Knossos and the subsequent appearance of the last stylistic group on the Mainland (1987, “Stylistic Groups” VI; and 2010, Attributing). This series took up the first decade of my research. Along the way, I elaborated on some specific groups (e.g., 1978, Mycenae-Vapheio Lion Group; 1989, Large Stylistic Group), some technical processes (1974, Glyptic Sketch; 1981, Creating a Seal; and 1984, Ring Construction), and some iconographical themes (1976, 1995, Bull-Leaping/Games). My participation in archaeological excavations has also continued following my first stint on Kea (1969). I have generally had good luck in digging: at Corinth (1970) Mary Hollinshead and I excavated the first trench to produce Proto-Corinthian; at Knossos, Royal Road (1971), my trench was bare of finds until the last week when it began producing EH II sauceboats; at Ayios Stephanos, Laconia (1974), I identified “Taffy” ware as Frankish (principality of Achaea, 1205-1432 CE); at Phylakopi (1975-1977) I

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excavated the Mycenaean Sanctuary with hundreds of finds per level, using a system of plotting each object on mylar overlays as it was uncovered. An earthquake in central Italy in 1980 cracked open a hill south of Venosa, Puglia, revealing a vast catacomb system of mixed Jewish and Christian tombs. The Vatican, which “owns” all cemeteries in Italy, was reluctant to excavate. So, the Jewish Heritage Foundation offered to pay for archaeologists to discover a new and safe entrance and they selected Professors Eric and Carol Meyers of Duke University to lead the excavation; they, in turn, invited me to supervise the actual digging. I spent several weeks in the summer of 1981, observing how sunlight played against the catacomb’s hillside before deciding on a spot that looked slumped. In four days we had dug down to a new entrance whose blocking earth we broke through (à la Carter and Lord Carnarvon) to see an empty corridor and untouched loculi (my photograph was published on the front page of the NY Times, with byline, 26 July 1981). Three days later the Vatican moved in with bulldozers to scrape out a parking lot for tourists and a ticket booth. After that, I went on to join the Meyers’ excavation of an early synagogue (2nd-6th c. CE) at Nabratein in north Israel. The synagogue is small but my trench held the threshold block, which was so big it had to have been reused. I asked for help from the army base at nearby Safed and they brought a crane over; we lifted the block and turned it over: it was the pediment to the early torah shrine, with suspension hole for the eternal flame and two lions flanking the pediment. Since orthodox Jews had been pestering us for days, we knew we had to get this offensive art into a museum: we raced the block to the Rockefeller Museum in Jerusalem in the dead of night. This was written up in People magazine (14 September 1981). The pediment sits in splendid display in the Rockefeller museum. Years passed, and with a new spirit of archaeology in Israel, the Meyers were eventually allowed to published the Nabratein synagogue and they asked me to contribute the chapters on its architecture and sculpture. The resulting volume (2009) established me as an expert on early Jewish synagogues (I give lectures on the subject and am a consultant for the Israel Antiquities Authority); it also led me to being selected Director of the Jewish Studies Program at the University of Kansas in 2013. Who knew? Feminist Archaeology In the late 1980s I was incorporating feminist theory and themes into my work. For this, I had to add another publication area since feminist archaeology was slow to develop. Because of my own sexual orientation, however, it was easy to think about how art expresses ancient gender and sexuality. Several of my articles develop this concept; my two favorite are “Women in Relief” (2002) that explores the classical cemetery as a woman’s world and how it speaks to women, both ancient and modern; and “Minoan Women” (2016) that follows the phases of a woman’s life from birth to death (not from Neolithic to Late Minoan). At the end of that study, I finally took “the plunge”: “Neopalatial Crete presents the best candidate for a matriarchy – if one ever existed.” I reiterated the point in a lecture at the University of Arkansas in 2017, suggesting that the LM IB destructions of almost every site in Crete, no matter how remote, were not the result of a Mycenaean invasion by itself. Such would not have been able to find and destroy all those hundreds of sites: it would have to have had help from a popular and general revolt against the power of Minoan women. While I’ve been pleased with the reception of most of my publications, the reception to a couple has baffled me. My proposal for a LH II date for the Lion Relief above Mycenae’s front gate (1987, “End of Mycenaean Art”) has been rejected by almost everyone, although such a date had been proposed by others before me (e.g., S. Ferri, “La funzionalità del monumento archeologico concepita come coefficiente di valutazioné,” RendLinc 8.7-10 [1953] 410-413). My early date relies on two facts: the gate is only the setting for the relief (a terminus post quem non) and the relief shares an unusual iconography and an otherwise unique technical trait with only one other object, a LH I-II lentoid seal (CMS I no. 46). The technical trait is unique on both the seal and the relief: carved bands or “bracelets” at the lions’ ankles. Somewhat similar has been the resistance to seeing in the Parthenon’s sculpture any reflection of Athenian “ideal” attitudes towards sex and gender. But that resistance originates, I believe, in the persistent view that the Parthenon is “perfect,” implying that it is pure and cannot possibly be tainted by

MY FIRST 74 YEARS

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contemporary attitudes about such common things as sex and women. The obvious lie to this view is the appearance of Artemis and Aphrodite seated together in both the east frieze and east pediment. In both instances they touch, reminding us how the two goddesses function like bookends to a young woman’s life, guiding her from adolescence into marriage and maternity. Recently, I have been exploring the possibility of identifying Aegean myths (i.e., Minoan and early Mycenaean myths, composed and situated earlier than the Trojan War). I rather stumbled into this area for the “Metaphysis” conference (Vienna, 2016), following the trail of an odd iconography on a few seals: a pair of girls leashed and led by a man to a woman. I tentatively identified the story behind this scene as having something to do with the Hyperborean Maidens and the titan Leto on Delos. The subsequent publication of the massive gold ring from the Griffin Warrior tomb at Pylos confirmed this identification (the leashed pair of girls with woman and another pair of women with tall hats, the two pairs flanking a shrine with palms at the water’s edge); I then pursued this theme at the “Mneme” conference (Venice 2018). And finally I have submitted a manuscript for a forthcoming collection of essays (Fritz Blakolmer ed.) in which I formulate a methodology for identifying these early, pre-Trojan War myths, including foundation myths for Mycenae (from the megaron, a wall painting with a man falling from a chariot: Myrtilos?) and Pylos (from Hall 64, another painting with Mycenaeans battling barbarians in animal skins: Salmoneus’s cattle raid?). Kansas (2001-present) The University of Kansas tenures its faculty in the various schools, not in departments: my appointment therefore has been in the College of Liberal Arts and Sciences, which I interpreted to mean I could contribute to more units than just Classics – so I have also taught for Humanities and Western Civilization, Museum Studies, Art History, and Jewish Studies. After a stint as Chair of Classics (20042005), I was asked to chair Women, Gender and Sexuality Studies (2008-2013), establishing a PhD program and ushering in the first cohort of WGSS doctoral students; and I have chaired the Jewish Studies Program (2013-2019), establishing a completely redesigned program and a major that allows students to get their BA in Jewish Studies. In 2011 I joined the Gournia Excavation Project, where I uncovered a 4000 year old pottery workshop (EM II/III to LM I) with more than 50 vases intact and in situ, plus potter’s stations and tools. In 2012, a student at KU, Cody Haynes, joined the team – and I began my fourth long-term relationship with a man. In order to publish the Pottery Workshop and its contents properly, and to honor the original potters, Cody and I have taken pottery formation and firing classes in Lawrence Kansas, have brought our pottery instructor, Kyla Strid, to Crete twice to walk the Workshop together and interpret the rooms and finds, and we have interned ourselves with traditional potters in Margarites, Crete. Cody and I got married in April 2016 – which I never thought possible until the Supreme Court decision the year before (26 June 2015); even then we waited 10 months, in case the decision was rescinded. In 2017, shortly before my retirement from the University of Kansas (30 June 2019), Cody and I bought a large farm out in the country southwest of the university. High on a glaciated ridge above the greater Missouri river plain we have planted acres of grapevines for natural wine-making and fruit trees for canning, mowed walking paths through the prairie grass, and added chickens and goats to our menagerie of dogs and cats. There is no sea nearby and no beach but we do have a pond, lots of stone, and lots of sky. It’s much like the Greece we both love. Here, I intend to finish up a few archaeological projects and identify the grasses, flowers, and trees of our prairie home; we will add rescue donkeys and llamas and drink natural wine together; and I’ll live to 148. John G. YOUNGER

BIBLIOGRAPHY OF JOHN G. YOUNGER Books, Solo Authored 1988

The Iconography of Late Minoan and Mycenaean Sealstones and Finger Rings (Bristol, Bristol Classical Press, 1988).

1991

A Bibliography for Aegean Glyptic in the Bronze Age (Corpus der minoischen und mykenischen Siegel Beiheft 4, Berlin, Gebrüder Mann Verlag, 1991).

1993

Bronze Age Aegean Seals in Their Middle Phase (ca. 1725-1550 B.C.) (Studies in Mediterranean Archaeology 102, Jonsered, Paul Åströms Förlag, 1993).

1998

Music in the Aegean Bronze Age (Studies in Mediterranean Archaeology, pocket book 96, Jonsered, Paul Åströms Förlag, 1998).

2004

Sex in the Ancient World A-Z (London and New York, Routledge, 2004).

Books, Co-Authored 1975

Ingo PINI, John L. CASKEY, Miriam CASKEY, Oliver PELON, Martha HEATH-WIENCKE and John G. YOUNGER, Kleinere griechische Sammlungen (Corpus der minoischen und mykenischen Siegel V, Berlin, Gebrüder Mann Verlag, 1975).

Book, Solo Edited 2006

Imperium and Cosmos, by Paul REHAK (Madison, University of Wisconsin Press, 2006).

Chapters or Sections of Books, Solo Authored 1974

“Early Bronze Age Seal Impressions from Keos,” in Friedrich MATZ and Ingo PINI (eds), Die kretischmykenische Glyptik und ihre gegenwärtige Probleme (Bonn-Bad Godesberg, Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft, 1974) 164-172.

1979

“The Rhodian Hunt Group,” in Jack L. DAVIS and John F. CHERRY (eds), Papers in Cycladic Prehistory (Los Angeles, UCLA Institute of Archaeology, Monograph 14, 1979) 97-105.

1980

“Seals of Glass Paste,” in Mervyn R. POPHAM and Hugh SACKETT, Lefkandi I: The Iron Age (London, British School of Archaeology at Athens, 1980) 255.

1981

“The Island Sanctuaries Group: Date and Significance,” in Ingo PINI (ed.), Studien zur minoischen und helladischen Glyptik. Beiträge zum 2. Marburger Siegel-Symposium, 26.-30. September 1978 (Corpus der minoischen und mykenischen Siegel Beiheft 1, Berlin, Gebrüder Mann Verlag, 1981) 263-272.

1984

“Seven Types of Ring Construction in the Greek Late Bronze Age,” in Aux origines de l’hellénisme. La Crète et la Grèce -- Hommage à Henri van Effenterre (Publications de la Sorbonne. Histoire ancienne et mediévale 15, Paris, Centre G. Glotz, 1984) 83-90.

1985

“Chapter VII. The Sealstones,” in A. Colin RENFREW, The Archaeology of Cult. The Sanctuary at Phylakopi (British School of Archaeology at Athens, Supplementary vol. 18, Oxford, Thames and Hudson, 1985) 281297.

1987

“The Elgin Plaques from the Treasury of Atreus: Evidence for a New Reconstruction of the Façade,” in Wolfgang SCHIERING (ed.), Kolloquium zur griechischen Vorgeschichte, Mannheim, 20.-22. Februar 1986 (Schriften des deutschen Archäologen-Verbandes 9, Mannheim, Deutsches Archäologen-Verband, 1987) 138-150. “The End of Mycenaean Art,” in Eberhard THOMAS (ed.), Forschungen zur griechischen Vorgeschichte. Das Ende der mykenischen Welt, Akten des internationalen Kolloquiums 7.-8. Juli 1984 in Köln (Berlin, Wasmuth, 1987) 63-72.

xviii 1989

BIBLIOGRAPHY OF JOHN G. YOUNGER “Bronze Age Aegean Seals in their Middle Period (ca. 1725-1550 B.C.),” in Robert LAFFINEUR (ed.), TRANSITION. Le monde égéen du Bronze moyen au Bronze récent. Actes de la 2e Rencontre égéenne internationale de l’Université de Liège, 18-20 avril 1988 (Aegaeum. Annales d’archéologie égéenne de l’Université de Liège, 3, Liège, Université de Liège, 1989) 53-64. “A Large Stylistic Group of Sealstones Dated to the Mid-Fifteenth Century B.C.,” in Ingo PINI (ed.), Fragen und Probleme der bronzezeitlichen ägäischen Glyptik. Beiträge zum 3. Internationalen Marburger Siegel-Symposium, 5.-7. September 1985 (Corpus der minoischen und mykenischen Siegel Beiheft 3, Berlin, Gebrüder Mann Verlag, 1989) 339-353.

1990

“The Response of Seals to Changes and Developments in Minoan-Mycenaean Administrative Practices: A Chronological Summary,” in Thomas G. PALAIMA (ed.), Aegean Seals, Sealings and Administration. Proceedings of the NEH-Dickson Conference of the Program in Aegean Scripts and Prehistory of the Department of Classics, University of Texas at Austin, January 11-13, 1989 (Aegaeum. Annales d’archéologie égéenne de l’Université de Liège, 5, Liège, Université de Liège, 1990) 240-241.

1992

“Bronze Age Representations of Aegean Jewelry,” in Robert LAFFINEUR and Janice CROWLEY (eds), EIKON. Aegean Bronze Age Iconography: Shaping a Methodology. Proceedings of the 4th International Aegean Conference / 4e Rencontre égéenne internationale, University of Tasmania, Hobart, Australia, 6-9 April 1992 (Aegaeum. Annales d’archéologie égéenne de l’Université de Liège, 8, Liège, Université de Liège, 1992) 257-293.

1993

“Milos,” in Ingo PINI (ed.), Kleinere Greichische Sammlungen (Corpus der minoischen und mykenischen Siegel V, Supplement 1B, Berlin, Gebrüder Mann Verlag, 1993) 39-49.

1995

“The Iconography of Rulership in the Aegean: a Conspectus,” in Paul REHAK (ed.), The Role of the Ruler in the Prehistoric Aegean. Proceedings of a Panel Discussion Presented at the Annual Meeting of the Archaeological Institute of America, New Orleans, Louisiana, 28 December 1992 (Aegaeum. Annales d’archéologie égéenne de l’Université de Liège, 11, Liège, Université de Liège, 1995) 151-211. “Bronze Age Representations of Aegean Bull-Games, III,” in Robert LAFFINEUR and Wolf-Dietrich NIEMEIER (eds), POLITEIA. Society and State in the Aegean Bronze Age. Proceedings of the 5th International Aegean Conference / 5e Rencontre égéenne internationale, University of Heidelberg, Archäologisches Institut, 10-13 April 1994 (Aegaeum. Annales d’archéologie égéenne de l’Université de Liège, 12, Liège, Université de Liège, 1995) 507-545. “Interactions between Aegean Seals and Other Minoan-Mycenaean Art Forms,” in Ingo PINI and Walter MÜLLER (eds), Sceaux minoens et mycéniens. IVe symposium international, 10-12 septembre 1992, Clermont-Ferrand (Corpus der minoischen und mykenischen Siegel, Beiheft 5, Berlin, Gebrüder Mann Verlag, 1995) 331-348.

1997

“Gender and Sexuality in the Parthenon Frieze,” in Claire LYONS and Ann KOLOSKI-OSTROW (eds), Naked Truths. Women, Sexuality, and Gender in Classical Art and Archaeology (London, Routledge, 1997) 120-153. “The Stelai of Mycenae Grave Circles A and B,” in Robert LAFFINEUR and Philip P. BETANCOURT (eds), TECHNE. Craftsmen, Craftswomen and Craftsmanship in the Aegean Bronze Age. Proceedings of the 6th International Aegean Conference / 6e Rencontre égéenne internationale, Philadelphia, Temple University, 18-21 April 1996 (Aegaeum. Annales d’archéologie égéenne de l’Université de Liège et UT-PASP, 16, Liège, Université de Liège, and Austin, Program in Aegean Scripts and Prehistory, 1997) 229-239.

1998

“Education and Scholarship,” in Neil SCHLAGER (ed.), Gay & Lesbian Almanac (Detroit and New York, St. James Press, 1998) 205-230. “Gender and Sexuality in the Parthenon Frieze,” in Mary CASEY, Denise DONLON, Jeannette HOPE and Sharon WELLFARE (eds), Redefining Archaeology: Feminist Perspectives. Proceedings of the 3rd Australian Women in Archaeology Conference (Canberra, Australian National University Publications, 1998) 182-190.

1999

“Glass Seals and ‘Look-alike’ Seals,” in Philip P. BETANCOURT, Vassos KARAGEORGHIS, Robert LAFFINEUR and Wolf-Dietrich NIEMEIER (eds), MELETEMATA. Studies in Aegean Archaeology Presented to Malcolm H. Wiener as He Enters His 65th Year (Aegaeum. Annales d’archéologie égéenne de l’Université de Liège et UT-PASP, 20, Liège, Université de Liège, and Austin, Program in Aegean Scripts and Prehistory, 1999) 953-957.

2000

“The Spectacle-Eyes Group: An Assessment of Its Iconography, Techniques, and Style,” in Walter MÜLLER (ed.), Minoisch-Mykenische Glyptik. Stil, Ikonographie, Funktion. V. Internationales Siegel-Symposium,

BIBLIOGRAPHY OF JOHN G. YOUNGER

xix

Marburg, 23.-25. September 1999 (Corpus der minoischen und mykenischen Siegel, Beiheft 6, Berlin, Gebrüder Mann Verlag, 2000) 347-360. 2002

“Women in Relief: ‘Double Consciousness’ in Classical Tombstones,” in Nancy S. RABINOWITZ and Lisa AUANGER (eds), Among Women: From the Homosocial to the Homoerotic in the Ancient World (Austin, University of Texas Press, 2002) 167-210.

2003

“Calculating Vessel Volumes,” in Karen Polinger FOSTER and Robert LAFFINEUR (eds), METRON. Measuring the Aegean Bronze Age. Proceedings of the 9th International Aegean Conference / 9e Rencontre égéenne internationale, Yale University, 18-21 April 2002 (Aegaeum. Annales d’archéologie égéenne de l’Université de Liège et UTPASP, 24, Liège, Université de Liège, and Austin, Program in Aegean Scripts and Prehistory, 2003) 491492.

2004

“Work Sections and Repeating Patterns in the Parthenon Frieze,” in Michael B. COSMOPOULOS (ed.), The Parthenon and its Sculptures (Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2004) 63-85.

2005

“Cretan Hieroglyphic Wool Units (LANA, double mina),” in Massimo PERNA (ed.), Studi in onore di Enrica Fiandra. Contributi di archeologia egea e vicinorientale (Studi egei e vicinorientali 1, Paris, De Boccard, 2005) 405409. “Some Similarities in Mycenaean Palace Plans,” in Anastasia DAKOURI-HILD and Susan SHERRAT (eds), Autochthon. Papers Presented to O.T.P.K. Dickinson on the Occasion of His Retirement (Oxford, British Archaeological Reports, 2005) 185-190.

2007

“Appendix J. Two Sealstones from Early Cycladic Contexts,” in A. Colin RENFREW (ed., with Co-Eds. Neil BRODIE, Christine MORRIS and Chris SCARRE), Excavations at Phylakopi in Melos 1974-77 (British School at Athens Supplementary vol. 42, London, British School at Athens, 2007) 455. “The Aegean Bard: Evidence for Sound and Song,” in Sarah P. MORRIS and Robert LAFFINEUR (eds), EPOS. Reconsidering Greek Epic and Aegean Bronze Age Archaeology. Proceedings of the 11th International Aegean Conference, Los Angeles, UCLA - The J. Paul Getty Villa, 20-23 April 2006 (Aegaeum. Annales d’archéologie égéenne de l’Université de Liège et UT-PASP, 28, Liège, Université de Liège, and Austin, Program in Aegean Scripts and Prehistory, 2007) 71-78. “Time & Event in Aegean Art: Illustrating a Bronze Age Calendar,” in Felix LANG, Claus REINHOLDT and Jörg WEILHARTNER (eds), Stephanos Aristeios. Archäologische Forschungen zwischen Nil und Istros. Festschrift für Stefan Hiller zum 65. Geburtstag (Vienna, Phoibos Verlag, 2007) 287-295.

2008

“Food Rations and Portions in Cretan Hieroglyphic Documents,” in Louise A. HITCHCOCK, Robert LAFFINEUR and Janice CROWLEY (eds), DAIS. The Aegean Feast. Proceedings of the 12th International Aegean Conference. University of Melbourne, Centre for Classics and Archaeology, 25-29 March 2008 (Aegaeum. Annales d’archéologie égéenne de l’Université de Liège et UT-PASP, 29, Liège, Université de Liège, and Austin, Program in Aegean Scripts and Prehistory, 2008) 361-366. “The Knossos ‘Jewel Fresco’ Reconsidered,” in Chrysanthi GALLOU, Mercourios GEORGIADIS and Georgina M. MUSKETT (eds), DIOSKOUROI. Studies Presented to W.G. Cavanagh and C.B. Mee on the Anniversary of Their 30-year Joint Contribution to Aegean Archaeology (British Archaeological Reports-IS 1889, 2008) 76-89.

2009

“3.2: Architectural Elements and Sculptures,” in Eric M. MEYERS and Carol L. MEYERS (eds), Excavations at Ancient Nabratein. Synagogue and Environs (Meiron Excavation Project vol. 6, Winona Lake, Eisenbrauns for the American Schools of Oriental Research, 2009) 78-92. “Tree Tugging and Omphalos Hugging on Minoan Gold Rings,” in Anna-Lucia D’AGATA and Aleydis van de MOORTEL (eds), Archaeologies of Cult: Essays on Ritual and Cult in Crete in Honor of Geraldine C. Gesell (Hesperia Supplement 42, Princeton, American School of Classical Studies at Athens, 2009) 43-49. “‘We Are Woman’: Girl, Maiden, Matron in Aegean Art,” in Katerina KOPAKA (ed.), FYLO. Engendering Prehistoric ‘Stratigraphies’ in the Aegean and the Mediterranean. Proceedings of an International Conference, University of Crete, Rethymno 2-5 June 2005 (Aegaeum. Annales d’archéologie égéenne de l’Université de Liège et UT-PASP, 30, Liège, Université de Liège, and Austin, Program in Aegean Scripts and Prehistory, 2009) 207-212.

xx 2010

BIBLIOGRAPHY OF JOHN G. YOUNGER “Attributing Aegean Seals: Looking Back, Glancing Ahead,” in Walter MÜLLER (ed.), Die Bedeutung der minoischen und mykenischen Glyptik. VI. Internationales Siegel-Symposium aus Anlass des 50 Jährigen Bestehens des CMS Marburg, 9.-12. Oktober 2008 (Corpus der minoischen und mykenischen Siegel, Beiheft 8, Mainz, Philipp von Zabern, 2010) 413-424. “Mycenaean Seals and Sealings,” in Eric H. CLINE (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of the Bronze Age Aegean (Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2010) 329-239. “Seals and Sealing Rings.” in Michael GAGARIN (ed.), Oxford Encyclopedia of Greece and Rome (Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2010) vol. 6, 262-263.

2011

“Sexual Peculiarities of the Ancient Greeks and Romans,” in Mark GOLDEN and Peter TOOHEY (eds), Sexuality in the Classical World (Berg Cultural History of Sexuality 1, Oxford, Berg Publishing, 2011) 55-86, notes 215-220. “A View from the Sea,” in Giorgos VAVOURANAKIS (ed.), The Seascape in Aegean Prehistory (Monographs of the Danish Institute in Athens 14, Athens, Danish Institute of Archaeology, 2011) 161-183. “Tekhnitides: Women Artists in Ancient Greece,” in Diane TOURLIATOS-MILES (ed.), Her Art: Greek Women in the Arts from Antiquity to Modernity (Frankfurt, Peter Lang, 2011) 33-50.

2012

“Mycenaean Collections of Seals: The Role of Blue,” in Marie-Louise NOSCH and Robert LAFFINEUR (eds), KOSMOS. Jewellery, Adornment and Textiles in the Aegean Bronze Age. Proceedings of the 13th International Aegean Conference, University of Copenhagen, Danish National Research Foundation’s Centre for Textile Research, 19-23 April 2010 (Aegaeum. Annales liégeoises et PASPiennes d’archéologie égéenne, 33, Liège-Leuven, Peeters 2012) 749753. “The Seals,” in Joseph SHAW and Maria C. SHAW (eds), House X at Kommos. A Minoan Mansion near the Sea. Part I. Architecture, Stratigraphy, and Selected Finds. An Excavation on the South Coast of Crete by the University of Toronto (INSTAP Prehistory Monographs 35, Philadelphia, INSTAP Academic Press, 2012) 85-87. “Diet, Reconstruction of” (update), in Neil Asher SILBERMAN (ed.), Oxford Companion to Archaeology (2nd edition, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2012) 400-402.

2014

“The ‘World of People’: Nature and Narrative in Minoan Art,” in Gilles TOUCHAIS, Robert LAFFINEUR and Françoise ROUGEMONT (eds), PHYSIS. L’environnement naturel et la relation homme-milieu dans le monde égéen protohistorique. Actes de la 14e Rencontre égéenne internationale, Paris, Institut National d’Histoire de l’art (INHA), 11-14 décembre 2012 (Aegaeum. Annales liégeoises et PASPiennes d’archéologie égéenne, 37, LiègeLeuven, Peeters, 2014) 211-215.

2015

“The Pyrgos and Gournia Roundels Inscribed in Linear A: Suffixes, Prefixes, and a Journey to Syme,” in Colin F. MACDONALD, Eleni HATZAKI and Stelios ANDREOU (eds), The Great Islands. Studies of Crete and Cyprus Presented to Gerald Cadogan (Athens, Kapon Editions, 2015) 67-70.

2016

“Identifying Myth in Minoan Art,” in Eva ALRAM-STERN, Fritz BLAKOLMER, Sigrid DEGERJALKOTZY, Robert LAFFINEUR and Jörg WEILHARTNER (eds), METAPHYSIS. Ritual, Myth and Symbolism in the Aegean Bronze Age. Proceedings of the 15th International Aegean Conference, Vienna, Institute for Oriental and European Archaeology, Aegean and Anatolian Department, Austrian Academy of Sciences and Institute of Classical Archaeology, University of Vienna, 22-25 April 2014 (Aegaeum. Annales liégeoises et PASPiennes d’archéologie égéenne, 39, Liège-Leuven, Peeters, 2016) 433-443. “Minoan Women,” in Stephanie Lynn BUDIN and Jean Macintosh TURFA (eds), Women in Antiquity. Real Women across the Ancient World (New York, Routledge, 2016) 573-594. “The Gournia Megaron,” in Jan DRIESSEN (ed.), RA-PI-NE-U. Studies on the Mycenaean World Offered to Robert Laffineur for his 70th Birthday (Aegis, Actes et Colloques 10, Louvain UCL, Presses Universitaires de Louvain, 2016) 391-398.

2018

“Aegean Bronze Age Sealstones and Fingerrings: Chronology and Functions,” in Marta AMERI, Sarah Kielt COSTELLO, Gregg JAMISON and Sarah Jarmer SCOTT (eds), Seals and Sealing in the Ancient World. Case Studies from the Near East, Egypt, the Aegean, and South Asia (Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2018) 334-354.

BIBLIOGRAPHY OF JOHN G. YOUNGER 2019

xxi

“Minoan Religion: State Myth, Private Memory,” in Elisabetta BORGNA, Ilaria CALOI, Filippo Maria CARINCI and Robert LAFFINEUR (eds), MNHMH/MNEME. Past and Memory in the Aegean Bronze Age. Proceedings of the 17th International Aegean Conference, University of Udine, Department of Humanities and Cultural Heritage, Ca’ Foscari University of Venice, Department of Humanities, 17-21 April 2018 (Aegaeum. Annales liégeoises et PASPiennes d’archéologie égéenne, 43, Liège-Leuven, Peeters, 2019) 603-608.

Chapters or Sections of Books, Co-Authored 1988

John G. YOUNGER and B. Nicole BOYNTON, “Five Roman Lamps with Inscriptions,” in John H. BETTS, James T. HOOKER and John R. GREEN (eds), Studies in Honour of T.B.L. Webster (Bristol, Bristol Classical Press, 1988) II, 159-161.

1998

Paul REHAK and John G. YOUNGER, “International Styles in Ivory Carving in the Bronze Age,” in Eric H. CLINE and Diane HARRIS-CLINE (eds), The Aegean and the Orient in the Second Millennium. Proceedings of the 50th Anniversary Symposium, Cincinnati, 18-20 April 1997 (Aegaeum. Annales d’archéologie égéenne de l’Université de Liège et UT-PASP, 18, Liège, Université de Liège, and Austin, Program in Aegean Scripts and Prehistory, 1998) 229-256.

2000

Paul REHAK and John G. YOUNGER, “Minoan and Mycenaean Administration in the Early Late Bronze Age: An Overview,” in Massimo PERNA (ed.), Administrative Documents in the Aegean and their Near Eastern Counterparts. Proceedings of the International Colloquium. Naples, February 29-March 2, 1996 (Ministero per i Beni Culturali e Ambientali, Ufficio Centrale per i Beni Archivistici, Naples, 2000) 277-301.

2001

Paul REHAK and John G. YOUNGER, Reprint of “Review of by Aegean Prehistory VII: Neopalatial, Final Palatial, and Postpalatial Crete,” with a supplement, in Tracey CULLEN (ed.), Aegean Prehistory. A Review (American Journal of Archaeology Supplement 1, Boston, Archaeological Institute of America, 2001) 383-473.

2003

Paul REHAK and John G. YOUNGER, “Concluding Remarks,” in Karen Polinger FOSTER and Robert LAFFINEUR (eds), METRON. Measuring the Aegean Bronze Age. Proceedings of the 9th International Aegean Conference / 9e Rencontre égéenne internationale, Yale University, 18-21 April 2002 (Aegaeum. Annales d’archéologie égéenne de l’Université de Liège et UT-PASP, 24, Liège, Université de Liège, and Austin, Program in Aegean Scripts and Prehistory, 2003) 505-507.

2008

Paul REHAK and John G. YOUNGER, “The Material Culture of Neopalatial Crete” (Chapter 6) and “Minoan Culture: Religion, Burial Customs, Administration” (Chapter 7), in Cynthia SHELMERDINE (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to the Aegean Bronze Age (Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2008) 140164 and 165-185.

Chapters or Sections of Books, Solo edited 2005

Paul REHAK, “The ‘Sphinx’ Head from the Cult Center at Mycenae,” in Anastasia DAKOURI-HILD and Susan SHERRAT (eds), Autochthon. Papers Presented to O.T.P.K. Dickinson on the Occasion of his Retirement (Oxford, British Archaeological Reports, 2005) 220-225.

2007

Paul REHAK, “Children’s Work: Girls as Acolytes in Aegean Ritual and Cult,” in Jeremy RUTTER and Ada COHEN (eds), Coming of Age: Constructions of Childhood in the Ancient World (Hesperia Supplement 41, Princeton, American School of Classical Studies at Athens, 2007) 205-225.

2009

Paul REHAK, “Some Unpublished Studies by Paul Rehak on Gender in Aegean Art,” in Katerina KOPAKA (ed.), FYLO. Engendering Prehistoric ‘Stratigraphies’ in the Aegean and the Mediterranean. Proceedings of an International Conference University of Crete, Rethymno 2-5 June 2005 (Aegaeum. Annales d’archéologie égéenne de l’Université de Liège et UT-PASP, 30, Liège, Université de Liège, and Austin, Program in Aegean Scripts and Prehistory, 2009) 11-17.

Articles in Journals, Solo Authored 1973

“The Vapheio Gems: A Reconsideration of the Find-Spots,” American Journal of Archaeology 77 (1973) 338340.

xxii 1974

BIBLIOGRAPHY OF JOHN G. YOUNGER “Appendix II: the Sealing,” in M.R. POPHAM, “Trial KV (1969), a Middle Minoan Building at Knossos,” Annual of the British School of Archaeology at Athens 69 (1974) 193-194. “A Glyptic Sketch from Isopata, HM 908,” Kadmos 13 (1974) 1-5.

1976

“Bronze Age Representations of Aegean Bull-Leaping,” American Journal of Archaeology 80 (1976) 125-137.

1977

“The Cave ‘To Kleisidi’ near Myrtos in Southern Crete,” Athens Annals of Archaeology 9 (1977) 166-169. “Non-Sphragistic Uses for Minoan-Mycenaean Sealstones and Rings,” Kadmos 16 (1977) 141-159.

1978

“The Mycenae-Vapheio Lion Group,” American Journal of Archaeology 82 (1978) 285-299.

1979

“The Lapidary’s Workshop at Knossos,” Annual of the British School of Archaeology at Athens 74 (1979) 259-268. “Origins of the Mycenae-Vapheio Lion Master,” Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies London 26 (1979) 119120. “Semi-Precious Stones to the Aegean,” Archaeological News 8 (1979) 40-44, a special issue: “Archaeology of Trade in the Near East,” a symposium (Duke University, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, 2324 February 1979).

1981

“Creating a Sealstone: A Study of Seals in the Greek Late Bronze Age,” Expedition 23 (1981) 31-38. “The Mycenae-Vapheio Lion Workshop, III,” Temple University Aegean Symposium 6 (1981) 67-71.

1983

“Aegean Seals of the Late Bronze Age: Masters and Workshops, II. The First Generation Minoan Masters,” Kadmos 22 (1983) 109-136. “A New Look at Aegean Bull-Leaping,” Muse 17 (1983) 72-80.

1984

“Aegean Seals of the Late Bronze Age: Masters and Workshops, III. The First Generation Mycenaean Masters,” Kadmos 23 (1984) 38-64.

1985

“Aegean Seals of the Late Bronze Age: Stylistic Groups, IV. Almond- and Dot-Eye Groups of the Fifteenth Century B.C.,” Kadmos 24 (1985) 34-73.

1986

“Aegean Seals of the Late Bronze Age: Stylistic Groups, V. Minoan Groups Contemporary with LM III A1,” Kadmos 25 (1986) 119-140. Comments in G.F. Bass, “A Bronze Age Shipwreck from Ulu Burun (Kas): 1984 Campaign,” American Journal of Archaeology 90 (1986) 283-284.

1987

“Aegean Seals of the Late Bronze Age: Stylistic Groups, VI. Fourteenth Century Mainland and Later Fourteenth-Century Cretan Workshops,” Kadmos 26 (1987) 44-73. “Aegean Seals of the Late Bronze Age: Stylistic Groups VII. Concordance,” Kadmos 28 (1989) 101-136.

1990

“New Observations on Hieroglyphic Seals,” Studi Micenei ed Egeo-Anatolici 28 (1990) 85-93.

1992

“Seals? from Middle Helladic Greece,” Hydra 8 (1992) 35-58; also: http://www.mhargolid.nl/ biblio_ articles.html.

1995-1998 “Caught in the Web: Electronic Opportunities in Archaeology,” a column in Biblical Archaeologist / Near Eastern Archaeology Vol. 58 (1995) fascicles 3 (September) 179-180, and 4 (December) 243-244. Vol. 59 (1996) fascicles 1 (March) 71-72, 2 (June) 135-136, 3 (September) 191-192, and 4 (December 1996) 247-248. Vol. 60 (1997) fascicles 1 (March) 59-60, 2 (June) 111-112, 3 (September) 191-192, and 4 (December) 255256. Vol. 61 (1998) fascicles 1 (March) 71-72, 2 (June) 135-136, 3 (September) 183-184, and 4 (December) 262263. 1995

“Duke University Undergraduate LGB Studies Program,” Lesbian and Gay Studies Newsletter 22 (Spring 1995) 12-15.

BIBLIOGRAPHY OF JOHN G. YOUNGER

xxiii

“Queer Theory, Queer Practice,” Faculty Newsletter of Duke University 6 (January 1995) 5 & 6. 1997

“Gender and Sexuality on the Internet,” Gender & History 9 (1997) 630-34.

1998

“Managing ‘AegeaNet’,” Antiquity 71.274 (1998) 1052-1054. “American Civilization: Going, Going, Gone,” invited editorial, Duke Chronicle 5 March 1998, 8.

1999

“Ten Unpublished Letters by John Addington Symonds at Duke University,” The Victorian Newsletter 95 (Spring 1999) 1-10. “The Cretan Hieroglyphic Script: A Review Article,” Minos 31-32 (1996-1997) 379-400.

2000

“Tentative Steps toward Reading Cretan Hieroglyphic,” Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies London 44 (2000) 213-214. “Waist Compression in the Aegean Late Bronze Age,” Archaeological News 23 (1998-2000) 1-9.

2001

“Not All Feminists are Female,” Cloelia. Women’s Classical Caucus Newsletter 31 (2001) 10-11.

2003

“Cretan Hieroglyphic Transaction Terms: ‘Total Paid’ and ‘Total Owed’,” Cretan Studies [Briciaka. A Tribute to W.C. Brice] 9 (2003) 301-16.

2004

“Paul Rehak, 1954-2004,” an obituary, American Journal of Archaeology 108 (2004) 447-448. “Should Colleges Offer Lesbian and Gay Studies Programs?,” The Congressional Quarterly Researcher 14 (2004) 821 (with remarks throughout the theme-issue on Lesbian and Gay Studies Programs in US Colleges and Universities).

2008

Obituary for Helen Beacon Bacon, ákoue (newsletter for the American School of Classical Studies, Athens) 59 (Summer 2008) 22

Articles in Journals, Solo Edited 2005

Paul REHAK, “Immortal and Ageless: Artemis in a Fresco from Akrotiri, Thera,” Archaeological Institute of America 106th Annual Meeting, Abstracts 28 (2005) 159-60.

Articles in Journals, Co-Authored 1979

John H. BETTS and John G. YOUNGER, “Eight Sealstones and a Sealing from the Stratigraphical Museum at Knossos,” Annual of the British School of Archaeology at Athens 74 (1979) 271-278.

1982

John H. BETTS and John G. YOUNGER, “Aegean Seals of the Late Bronze Age: Masters and Workshops, I. Introduction,” Kadmos 21 (1982) 104-121.

1993

Paul REHAK and John G. YOUNGER, “New Linear A Inscription from Pyrgos in Crete,” American School of Classical Studies at Athens Newsletter 32 (Fall 1993) 2.

1995

Paul REHAK and John G. YOUNGER, “A Minoan Roundel from Pyrgos, Southeastern Crete,” Kadmos 34 (1995) 81-102.

1998

Paul REHAK and John G. YOUNGER, “Review of Aegean Prehistory VII: Neopalatial, Final Palatial, and Postpalatial Crete,” American Journal of Archaeology 102 (1998) 91-173.

1999

Spencer P.M. HARRINGTON, William M. CALDER III, Katie DEMAKOPOULOU, David TRAILL, Kenneth D.S. LAPATIN, Oliver DICKINSON and John G. YOUNGER, “Behind the Mask of Agamemnon,” Archaeology 52.4 (July-August 1999) 51-59.

2009

John G. YOUNGER and Paul REHAK, “Technical Observations on the Sculptures from the Temple of Zeus at Olympia,” Hesperia 78 (2009) 41-105.

2015

L. Vance WATROUS et al., “Excavations at Gournia 2010-2012,” Hesperia 84 (2015) 397-465. JGY wrote sections on “The Northwest Area” (the Pottery Workshop) pp. 409-415, and “Administrative Finds” (inscriptions, sealstones, sealings) pp. 443-453.

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BIBLIOGRAPHY OF JOHN G. YOUNGER

Reviews, Solo Authored 1976

V.E.G. KENNA, Corpus der minoischen und mykenischen Siegel, XII: New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, and XIII: Nordamerika, 2. Die kleinere Sammlungen, Journal of Hellenic Studies 96 (1976) 253-255.

1981

J.H. BETTS, Corpus der minoischen und mykenischen Siegel, X: Die schweizer Sammlungen, Journal of Hellenic Studies 101 (1981) 218-219.

1983

E.T. VERMEULE and V.G. KARAGEORGHIS, Mycenaean Pictorial Vase Painting, Journal of Hellenic Studies 103 (1983) 220-223.

1988

P. YULE, Early Cretan Seals, Goettingische Gelehrte Anzeigen 240 (1988) 188-224.

1993

J. CHADWICK, L. GODART, J.T. KILLEN, J.-P. OLIVIER, A. SACCONI and I.A. SAKELLARAKIS, Corpus of Mycenaean Inscriptions from Knossos, and J.T. KILLEN and J.-P. OLIVIER, The Knossos Tablets, Classical Bulletin 69 (1993) 98-100.

1995

C. ORTON, P. TYERS and A. VINCE, Pottery in Archaeology, Classical Bulletin 71 (1995) 40-44.

1996

I. PINI, Corpus der minoischen und mykenischen Siegel, V Supplement 1A & 1B, and P. FERIOLA et al. (eds), Archives Before Writing, American Journal of Archaeology 100 (1996) 161-165 (Review-article “Seals and Sealing Practices: The Ancient Near East and Bronze Age Aegean”). H. WINGERATH, Studien zur Darstellung des Menschen in der minoischen Kunst der älteren und jüngeren Palastzeit, American Journal of Archaeology 100 (1996) 810-811.

1997

J.W. SHAW and M.C. SHAW (eds), Kommos I: The Kommos Region and Houses of the Minoan Town, Part 2: The Minoan Hilltop and Hillside Houses, Echos du Monde Classique/Classical Views 41, n.s. 16 (1997) 197-203.

2001

K. BRANIGAN, Cemetery and Society in the Aegean Bronze Age, Journal of Near Eastern Studies 60 (2001) 219-221. E. SHANOWER, “Hoppin’ Hittites, Hector!. Age of Bronze,” Archaeology 54:5 (September/October 2001) 72-73.

2003

T.F. SCANLON, Eros and Greek Athletics, Journal of the History of Sexuality 12 (2003) 153-155. J. NEILS, The Parthenon Frieze, Classical Review 52 (2003) 333-334.

2005

J. SMITH, Script and Seal Use on Cyprus in the Bronze and Iron Ages, Journal of Near Eastern Studies 64 (2005) 215219. I. PINI, Corpus der minoischen und mykenischen Siegel, V Supplementum 3, American Journal of Archaeology 109 (2005) 575-576.

2006

“Archaeological CDs,” an on-line Review of “Delos: A Database of Archaeological Images,” by Hervé DUCHÊNE and Stéphane GIRARD; “Greek Vases in the Collection of the University of Melbourne at the Ian Potter Museum of Art,” by the University of Melbourne; and “Ayia Sofia Constantinople by Gaspard FOSSATI,” Octavo Editions, American Journal of Archaeology 110 (2006), online.

2007

S. BUNDRICK, Music and Image in Classical Athens, Classical World 100 (2007) 462-463.

2008

P. KESWANI, Mortuary Ritual and Society in Bronze Age Cyprus, Journal of Near Eastern Studies 67 (2008) 191-192. I. PINI and W. MÜLLER, Corpus der minoischen und mykenischen Siegel, II: Irakleion Museum, 3: Sammlung Giamalakis, American Journal of Archaeology 112 (2008) 766-767.

2009

J.C. WRIGHT (ed.), The Mycenaean Feast, Journal of Near Eastern Studies 68 (April 2009) 150-152. Review of M. BIETAK, N. MARINATOS and C. PALYVOU, Taureador Scenes in Tell el-Dab‘a (Avaris) and Knossos, in two parts: Part 1, “A Bull-Leaping Fresco from the Nile Delta and a Search for Patrons and Artists,” a review article by M.C. SHAW, and Part 2, “The Bull-Leaping Scenes from Tell el-Dab‘a,” by J.G. YOUNGER, American Journal of Archaeology 113 (2009) 471-477 and 479-480, respectively. S.L. BUDIN, The Origin of Aphrodite, Journal of Near Eastern Studies 68 (2009) 1-2. Y. DUHOUX and A. MORPURGO DAVIES (eds), A Companion to Linear B. Mycenaean Greek Texts and Their World, vol. 1, American Journal of Archaeology 113 (2009), online.

BIBLIOGRAPHY OF JOHN G. YOUNGER

xxv

I. BERG, Negotiating Island Identities: the Use of Pottery in the Middle and Late Bronze Age Cyclades, Cambridge Archaeological Journal 19 (2009) 457-459. 2010

J.L. FITTON (ed.), The Aigina Treasure. Aegean Bronze Age Jewelry and A Mystery Revisited, Bryn Mawr Classical Reviews 2010.02.64. S. IAKOVIDIS, E.B. FRENCH, K. SHELTON, C. IOANNIDES, A. JANSEN and J. LAVERY, Archaeological Atlas of Mycenae, Gnomon 82 (2010) 623-635.

2011

C.A. FARAONE and L.K. MCCLURE (eds), Prostitutes and Courtesans in the Ancient World, Journal of the History of Sexuality 20 (2011) 186-191.

2012

I. PINI, Aegean and Cypro-Aegean Non-Sphragistic Decorated Gold Finger Rings of the Bronze Age, American Journal of Archaeology 116 (2012), online. Y. DUHOUX and A. MORPURGO DAVIES (eds), A Companion to Linear B. Mycenaean Greek Texts and Their World, vol. 2, American Journal of Archaeology 116 (2012), online.

2013

M. ANASTASIADOU, The Middle Minoan Three-Sided Soft Stone Prism (Corpus der minoischen und mykenischen Siegel, Beiheft 9), Gnomon 85 (2013) 49-60.

2014

J. ENGLEHARDT (ed.), Agency in Ancient Writing (University Press of Colorado, Boulder 2012) and S.D. HOUSTON (ed.), The Shape of Script: How and Why Writing Systems Change (Santa Fe, School for Advanced Research Press), American Journal of Archaeology 118 (2014) 521-525 (Review-article “Two Recent Books on Ancient Scripts”). D. NAKASSIS, Individuals and Society in Mycenaean Pylos, Cambridge Archaeological Journal 24 (2014) 564-566.

2015

S. FERRARA, Cypro-Minoan Inscriptions. I: Analysis, American Journal of Archaeology 119 (2015), online. Y. DUHOUX and A. MORPURGO DAVIES (eds), A Companion to Linear B. Mycenaean Greek Texts and Their World, vol. 3, American Journal of Archaeology 119 (2015), online.

Museum Guides, Solo Authored 1981

“A Guide to the Greek and Roman Art in the Duke University Museum of Art” (latest edition 1991).

1985

“A Guide to the Greek, Etruscan, Roman, and Cypriote Art in the Roanoke, VA, Museum of Fine Arts.”

1988

“Notes on the Minoan and Mycenaean Sealstones in the New York Metropolitan Museum.”

Internet Publications “A Balkan-Aegean-Anatolian Glyptic Koine in the Neolithic and EBA Periods,” the VIth International Aegean Symposium, Athens, Greece, 31 August-5 September 1987: http://kuscholarworks.ku.edu/ dspace/handle/1808/4303. Bibliography for Aegean Sealstones and Fingerrings: http://people.ku.edu/~jyounger/Sphragis/. Cretan Hieroglyphic, the complete texts and commentary: http://people.ku.edu/~jyounger/Hiero/. Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender/Transsexual, Queer Studies in the USA and Canada (1996-present): http://people.ku.edu/~jyounger/lgbtqprogs.html. Linear A, the complete texts and commentary: http://people.ku.edu/~jyounger/LinearA/. Paul Rehak’s homepage and bibliography with a list of posthumous works and unfinished studies: http://people. ku.edu/~jyounger/prehak, and http://people.ku.edu/~jyounger/prehak/biblio.html.

A. SCRIPTS AND LANGUAGES

PROBLEMS IN MINOAN AND MYCENAEAN WRITING STYLE AND PRACTICE: THE STRANGE CASE OF *33 ra3 ON PYLOS TABLET Aa 618 Introduction I first started to get to know the scholarly work of John Younger on February 27, 1981. I was then beginning my second semester in the Classics Department at Fordham University where I taught six classes per year in areas having nothing to do with Linear B or Aegean prehistory. In the autumn of 1980, I was fortunate enough to fall in with serious and kindly scholars like Malcolm Wiener, Ellen Davis, Günter Kopcke, Holly Pittman, Jim Wright and Phil Betancourt at the New York Aegean Bronze Age Colloquium. As fall turned to winter, they pointed me in the direction of Temple University and its 6th Temple University Aegean Symposium organized with a generous inclusive spirit, especially aimed at younger scholars, by Phil Betancourt. I had never taken a formal course in art history or archaeology either as an undergraduate or graduate student (except during my two years 1976-77 and 1979-80 as a fellow at the American School of Classical Studies at Athens) and was drawn to Linear B studies partly by my mathematics background, partly by the appealing personality of my mentor Emmett L. Bennett, Jr., partly by my love for the ancient Greek language cultivated in me by two Jesuit mentors at Boston College, Carl Thayer, S.J. and David Gill, S.J., and partly by my desire to get to know human beings in the past as intimately as I could. Gill had studied with Sterling Dow at Harvard University at a time when Dow was interested in what then was called Minoan writing.1 Gill incorporated some of what Dow had inspired him to learn about Aegean prehistory into a few weeks of classes early in the ancient Greek history course I took from him in 1971. All the papers presented ten years later on February 27, 1981 in Philadelphia struck me in the same way that reaching an unknown world and beholding what the exotic people there are doing must strike any explorer of new worlds. The TUAS participants discussed (1) stylistic features of objects from the Shaft Graves in the papers of John H. Betts (amethyst discoid seal CMS 1,5), Karen Pollinger Foster (faience objects) and Barbara Kling (gold diadems); (2) standardization and by implication variation in a specific feature of sword manufacture (Judith Weinstein on hafting technique and technology); and (3) “different stylistic directions” in Günter Kopcke’s hallmark emphasis, Cato-like, on the “aesthetic indigence which appears to be … a mark of elevated late Helladic civilization” (p. 328). These topics in various ways all touched upon the concerns I had in identifying scribal hands and stylistic classes and in judging variations

∗

1

I thank José Melena for his characteristic generosity in discussing details of my questions about linguistic matters. My sincere thanks to Adamantia Vasilogamvrou and Vassilis Petrakis for confirming the existence of sign *33 ra3 at Hagios Vasileios. My thanks to Cassandra Donnelly and Teegan Simonds for their help with checking readings of the Pylos tablets, which led to the explorations in this paper. Garrett Bruner walks on water where it comes to all matters having to do with archiving the important materials of early scholars in PASP. He and his predecessors Sue Trombley, Christy Costlow Moilanen and Sarah Buchanan are responsible for the fact that these materials are preserved, readily retrievable, and now known to the world. Garrett also made the high-quality images in the text figures. Kevin Pluta and Zoé Thomas helped with RTI matters. Lastly I thank Brent Davis and Robert Laffineur for their patient and attentive editing. All flaws herein are mine. S. DOW, “Minoan Writing,” AJA 58 (1954) 77-129. For an account of Dow’s role in getting American scholars to accept the decipherment of Linear B, see S. TRACEY, “The Acceptance of the Greek Solution for Linear B,” Hesperia 87 (2018) 1-16. Tracey exaggerates both the initial resistance to the decipherment among American scholars and the importance of Dow’s 1954 survey and his support of the decipherment, but both in a good cause.

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in the aesthetic standards and methods of producing clay tablets and texts on tablets of what we now may call tablet-writers – even on one and the same tablet.2 John Younger’s paper on identifying different artists responsible for metal objects from the Shaft Graves spoke loudest to me, especially in his methods for identifying a Mycenae-Vapheio Lion Master and two other master craftsmen pupils (pp. 355-356).3 It raised many questions in my mind and made me wonder more about stylistic attributions than I ever had before. I do not think I ever told him that. I am happy to do so now. As is well known, Younger has also contributed to our understanding of the development and working of the linear scripts first of Minoan Crete and later the Mycenaean Aegean.4 In this paper I take up problems that have to do with: (1) palaeographical analysis connected with scribal attribution; (2) reading and interpreting Linear B texts; and (3) how scripts represent spoken words. These all have ramifications for Linear A and Cretan Hieroglyphic. I here pay attention to details as John Younger always has. Factors Affecting How Signs Represent Sounds in the Linear B Syllabary Within the Linear B syllabary among the signs (called phonograms or syllabograms) that represent sounds (standing for open syllables or pure vowels), there are about twenty-two signs (about fourteen with reasonably soundly assigned phonetic values) that do not have to be there. In other words, following what we know to be the spelling conventions for representing spoken words by means of Linear B signs, words – even loan words – in the Greek language at its stage of development in 1400-1200 B.C. all could have been represented without the use of these sensu stricto ‘superfluous’, ‘supernumerary’ or ‘additional’ signs. In its reduced or ‘pure’ core, i.e., if the superfluous signs were removed from the signary, the syllabary could represent spoken Greek of the period with reasonable efficiency in much the same way as the later historical Cypriote Syllabic script represented Greek in the historical period and did so for six or so centuries after the introduction of the Greek alphabet to Cyprus.5 The best explanation is provided in José L. Melena’s definitive summing up of the structure and working of Mycenaean writing as a conventional system for communicating the languages – including loan words from many sources and non-Greek place names and personal names – spoken in the regional palatial territories on Crete and the Greek mainland in LH/LM IIIA and B as visible speech:6 2

3 4

5

6

See the cited papers now handily in P.P. BETANCOURT (ed.), Temple University Aegean Symposium: A Compendium (2015), hereafter TUASC. J.H. BETTS, “The Seal from Shaft Grave Gamma – A ‘Mycenaean Chieftain’?,” TUASC, 289-295; K. POLINGER FOSTER, “Faience from the Shaft Graves,” TUASC, 297-304; B. KLING, “Evidence for Local Style on the Shaft Grave Diadems,” TUASC, 317-326; J. WEINSTEIN, “Hafting Methods on Type B Swords and Daggers,” TUASC, 337-344; G. KOPCKE, “Treasure and Aesthetic Sensibility – The Question of the Shaft Grave Stelai,” TUASC, 327-333. On the reasons for preferring to call those who wrote the Linear B tablets ‘tablet-writers’ instead of ‘scribes’, see T. PALAIMA, “Scribes, Scribal Hands and Palaeography”, in Y. DUHOUX and A. MORPURGO DAVIES (eds), A Companion to Linear B Texts vol. 2 (2011) 34-35, 112-127. J.G. YOUNGER, “The Mycenae-Vapheio Lion Workshop III,” TUASC, 355-359. See his highly useful information on Linear A and Cretan Hieroglyphic at the following Web sites: http://people.ku.edu/~jyounger/LinearA/ and http://people.ku.edu/~jyounger/Hiero/. For Hieroglyphic, see J.G. YOUNGER, “The Cretan Hieroglyphic Script: A Review Article,” Minos 3132 (1999) 379-400. For Linear A, see the latest update of research on the linear scripts: M. DEL FREO, “Rapport 2011-2015 sur les textes en écriture hiéroglyphique Crétoise, en linéaire A et en linéaire B,” in M.-L. NOSCH and H. LANDENIUS ENEGREN (eds), Aegean Scripts (2017) vol. 1, 10-11. T.G. PALAIMA and E. SIKKENGA, “Linear A > Linear B,” in P.P BETANCOURT, V. KARAGEORGHIS, R. LAFFINEUR and W.-D. NIEMEIER (eds), MELETEMATA. Studies in Aegean Archaeology Presented to Malcolm H. Wiener as He Enters His 65th Year (1999) 599-600 and note 7. T.G. PALAIMA, “The Advent of the Greek Alphabet on Cyprus: A Competition of Scripts,” in C. BAURAIN, C. BONNET and V. KRINGS (eds), Phoinikeia Grammata. Lire et écrire en Méditerranée (1991) 449-471. J.L.MELENA, “Mycenaean Writing,” in Y. DUHOUX and A. MORPURGO DAVIES (eds), A

THE STRANGE CASE OF *33 ra3 ON PYLOS TABLET Aa 61

5

In addition to the basic Mycenaean syllabary… there is a supernumerary set of syllabograms, whose sporadic use was probably prompted by the personal preferences of certain writers to represent phonic sequences that would have been perfectly7 spelled with the basic signary. This ‘purist’ set currently includes fourteen signs but this figure will probably be increased by new transliterations of still ‘undeciphered’ signs. This additional syllabary shows a complex structure which depends on the script history and its relation to the evolution of Greek consonantism: we could hypothesize that, when Linear B was borrowed from Linear A, a scarcely represented pattern based on triphonemic sequences of the CRV type (where R stands for the resonants /w/ and /y/) was adopted and partly developed in the later history of the Linear B script, without reaching the status of a complete series. We should note here two points that Melena makes: (1) the use of these ‘extra’ signs in our extant texts is ‘sporadic’ and (2) the choice of when they are used is somehow dependent on the personal preferences of the literate individuals who wrote our extant texts. The first point is a matter of observation, the second of conjecture or hypothesis. In what follows I am trying to figure out what all this means in terms of scribal practice. When would a Mycenaean tablet-writer think to use one of these ‘optional’ signs? How often and why? What would prompt him to do so in one instance and not in another? The adjective ‘sporadic’ is a good one. It is metaphorical. It comes from the sowing of seeds and suggests a pattern of randomness dependent upon the wind, the force and manner of strewing, and variations in the soil upon which the seeds are sown to determine which seeds end up where. The randomness overall within our corpus has to do with the fact that some scribes use these signs rarely or not at all. A tablet-writer may use these signs inconsistently. This leads to some part of what we call variant spellings within our texts. We will see below one case of two different spellings of the same word used on the same tablet! Our best evidence for the values of these signs is found when we have attestations of alternative spellings of the very same words. In the instances most pertinent to the strange case we are setting about discussing, two examples of conspicuous alternative spellings will suffice. The first is the non-Indo-European loan word used exclusively in texts of the Mycenaean palatial period and of the Greek historical period for ‘olive oil’: e-ra-wo = /elaiwon/ Pylos Scribal Hand 44 with typical Mycenaean non-explicit representation of the /i/ sound in an ι-diphthong here in a non-Proto-IndoEuropean-derived loan word; e-ra3-wo = /elaiwon/ Hand 2 (and a scribe of general Class ii) with explicit representation of the /i/ sound of the ι-diphthong by means of a sign (sign *33) that per sē represents the /i/ sound in the diphthong and was invented to do so. Here ra3 = /lai/. The second is the compound name for the Further Province of Messenia. Its meaning in its component parts is something like ‘the land beyond goat stone’, where ‘stone’ refers to the kinds of solid stone masses that lie beneath top soil or are mined in stone quarries or jut up as stone hills like the Areopagus in Athens or run extensively through the space of a geographical territory in mountain ridges and massifs. In later Greek the component elements are: πέρᾱ + αἴξ, αἰγός + λᾶας (genitive λᾶος) + -ιᾱ = beyond + goat + stone + a suffix used in many other toponyms to designate a literal territory. For our purposes the following variation is noteworthy.8

7 8

Companion to Linear B Texts vol. 3 (2014) 53-89, 16-17, cited passage p. 53, see figures on pp. 8, 16-17, 83, 87-89 for the structure of the Linear B system of phonograms. By ‘perfectly’, Melena means ‘satisfactorily’, not ‘with absolute phonetic precision’. There is a third spelling pe-ra-a-ko-ra-i-ja that seems to be a spelling that marks the boundary between the prefix and the main body of the word. It uses sign *08 a /a/ instead of *43 a3 /ai/.

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pe-ra-ko-ra-i-ja = /Per-aigoslahiya/ with typical Mycenaean non-explicit representation of the /i/ sound in an ι-diphthong here in a compound formation by a tablet- writer identified as Class iii Stylus 49; pe-ra3-ko-ra-i-ja = /Per-aigoslahiya/ Hand 1 on a summarizing document PY Ng 332 and a labeling document Wa 114 with explicit representation of the /i/ sound of the ιdiphthong by means of sign *33 that, as already mentioned, was called into being to convey that very value. The supplementary sign (*33) is clearly used here by one scribe and not another in writing the name of the Further Province of the Pylos palatial territory in order to represent /rai/ and explicitly the diphthong /ai/ of the second syllable. Sign *33 can also represent /lai/ (as we have seem with e-ra3-wo) since the Linear B system does not make a distinction and uses one sign to represent combinations of one or the other of the liquid consonants r/l and a vowel. The point to be understood is that sign *33 removes any ambiguity about the vowel-element of the syllable being an ι-diphthong. Unlike the standard sign *60 conventionally referred to as ra, but as we have just learned standing for either /ra/ or /la/ or /rai/ or /lai/, sign *33 only represents the diphthong /ai/, whereas the vowel-element of sign *60 can stand for /a/ or /ai/. Sign *33 comes into play with reasonable frequency in the Linear B texts, but until recently only in the Pylos corpus.9 It is used by prominent tablet-writers like Hands 1 and 2 (the trend-setters of stylistic Class i tablet-writers at Pylos) and Hand 21 (the trend-setter for Class ii tablet-writers) and other minor Hands like Hands 4 and 31,10 as Melena astutely explains, “for the morphological marking of the nominative plural of a-stems”.11 Why these scribes felt it necessary to do so is something of a puzzle. No intolerable ambiguity would have been caused by using the normal sign ra (*60). The same tablet-writer (Hand 4) who uses what has come to be identified as ra3 (*33) to convey the sound /ai/ in a nominative plural of an a-stem ethnonym on Pylos tablet Aa 61 (ze-pu2-ra3) uses plain ra (*60) to do so in nominative plural of another a-stem ethnonym on tablet Aa 63 (ki-ma-ra). And the ‘master scribe’ Hand 1 uses ra3 (*33) to convey the sound /ai/ in a nominative plural of an a-stem noun on Pylos tablet Aa 506 (ku-te-ra3)12 and on several o-ka tablets (o-ka-ra3: An 519.4, An 654.18, An 657.4), but uses plain ra (*60) to do so in the nominative plural of the very same a-stem noun on tablet An 657.13 (o-ka-ra) where nine lines earlier he spelled the same word o-ka-ra3. In all cases the paired ideograms/logograms13 9 10

11 12 13

It is now found on two inscribed sealings from Hagios Vasileios to write e-ra3-wo. For the scribal attributions and descriptions of the writing output and roles of the tablet-writers in the archival system at Pylos, T.G. PALAIMA, The Scribes of Pylos (1988) is still sound. MELENA (supra n. 6) 60. Note here that my descriptions of who is a major Hand differ from Melena’s. See also ḳụ-te-ra3 by Pylos Hand 21 on Ab 562. The non-syllabic signs that are used to identify physical objects, animate or inanimate, on these texts were at the outset of Mycenology called ‘ideograms’, i.e., graphic symbols that convey the ‘idea’ of a particular item non-phonetically. There is no doubt that in the historical instance of writing or reading a text on a tablet, the tablet-writer and his readers would have had a specific word in mind. But it is my belief that these mainly ‘picture symbols’ were used because they transcend language in some elemental way. Take, for example, even the non-pictorial object sign NI, which is used syllabogrammatically and ideographically/logographically in Cretan Hieroglyphic, Linear A and Linear B (See CHIC, charts of ‘syllabogrammes’ and ‘logogrammes’ on pp. 17 and 19 and signs 024 and *155). When we read it now, the word that comes to mind is ‘figs’ in our native languages. When readers who knew ‘Minoan’ read it written in the object-sign slot on a Cretan Hieroglyphic, Linear A or Linear B administrative documents, they no doubt recognized it as the acrophonic abbreviation for the non-Greek word nikuleon = ‘figs’ and therefore thought of that word. But when a native Greek-speaker read it in Linear B, he no doubt thought of the loan work sukon used in Greek (and related forms in Mycenaean Greek) as the standard word for a ‘fig’. If such signs are ‘logographic’, it is in a way different from a one-to-one correspondence between a symbol or group of symbols and a specific unchanging word. So I continue to use ‘ideogram’. For more on this entire question, see: V. PETRAKIS, “Figures of Speech? Observations on the Non-Phonographic Component in the Linear B Writing System,” in NOSCH and LANDENIUS ENEGREN eds (supra n. 4) 159, and R.J.E. THOMPSON, “In Defence of Ideograms,” in P. CARLIER, C. DE LAMBERTERIE,

THE STRANGE CASE OF *33 ra3 ON PYLOS TABLET Aa 61

7

and numbers that directly follow the syllabically spelled words indicate clearly that the nouns are in the plural. The spelling with ra3 does, therefore, seem to be what Melena calls it: a “purist” choice and a “personal preference of certain writers to represent phonic sequences that would have been perfectly spelled with the basic signary”. We should note that this explains the sporadic use of these signs. But it does not explain the why, what, when, where and by whom in each instance nor the origins of these signs as a set of superfluous signs. The poster child for this phenomenon is Pylos tablet Ta 709 where Hand 2 erases an original -ra (*60) and replaces it with -ra3 (*33) in writing pi-je-ra3 in an entry of three vase forms called /phiyelai/. Using sign ra (*60) and spelling the word as pi-je-ra would have been unproblematical and unambiguous. The immediately juxtaposed ideogram and number ‘3’ would have made it clear that a plural number of vase forms was meant. In fact, the adjective that modifies /phiyelai/ (spelled with ra3) is spelled to-qi-de-ja = /torkwideiyai/ because there is no sign ja3 that represents specifically /yai/. Linear B in the /a/-series also has a sign (*43) for /ai/14 and a sign (*25) for /ha/. These seem to be new signs in Linear B, i.e., so far they do not have Linear A antecedents. ra3 does not have a matching sign in Linear A either. Given the relative brevity of Linear A documents, the relative fewness of longer documents and the absence of complicated syntax except on libation tables and inscribed metal objects, we must always entertain the possibility that the ‘gap’ in Linear A for a sign with a value related to that of ra3 might be a matter of preservation and excavation. Linear A has now approximately 1,500 inscriptions and 8,000 attested signs. Linear B has 6,000 inscriptions and ca. 70,000 signs.15 If the ‘gap’ is real, one factor here just might be some peculiarity in how the ι-diphthongs are heard in the linguistic environs of the Cretan palatial centers during the period when Linear A was in use. The original Cretan place name that came down into historical Greek spelled with an αι-diphthong as Φαιστός is consistently spelled in Linear B tablets from Knossos with the pure-vowel phonogram (AB *28) for /i/ written out: pa-i-to. It is never spelled in a way that would be permissible and normal in Linear B writing: *pa-to. But at least one other Cretan place name shows alternative spellings with and without the phonogram for /i/: ku-ta-i-to (2 times, once from the Room of the Chariot Tablets) vs. ku-ta-to (securely more than 65 times in livestock texts from the Room of the Chariot Tablets and elsewhere).16 Melena17 identifies nine personal names on the Knossos tablets that also have explicit representation of /i/ in an /ai/ diphthong. All these names have no clear Greek roots as their basis. For two (ka-da-i-so and qa-ra-i-so) there are names potentially derived from them later on the Greek mainland at Pylos and Mycenae respectively. It is plausible to interpret them as based on variant mainland spellings of the Cretan names without explicit representation of the ι- in the diphthong by means of sign *28. These mainland forms kada-si-jo and qa-ra-si-jo (but qa-ra3-si-jo is not attested) make use of the highly productive -ιος suffix. As with the variation in spelling of the other Cretan place names and derivative personal names, it is not unreasonable to imagine that what we might conventionally call a native Minoan-speaking tablet-writer, or a tablet-writer of Minoan ethnicity, would be inclined to represent /ai/ diphthongs and would use a sign like ra3 for purposes other than sentimentality. Think of the controversial Reform der deutschen Rechtschreibung von 1996 and the lingering survival among some writers of German of the symbol eszett ß that was long used to represent the unvoiced /s/ sound, mainly at the end of words, and equivalent mostly to English /ss/ as in our word ‘miss’.18

14 15

16

17 18

M. EGETMEYER, N. GUILLEUX, F. ROUGEMONT and J. ZURBACH (eds), Actes du XIIIe colloque international sur les textes égéens (2012) 545-561. See supra n. 8. M. PERNA “La scrittura lineare A,” in M. DEL FREO and M. PERNA (eds), Manuale di epigrafia micenea (2016) vol. 1, 96. There is also a contrast in spelling the masculine derivative personal name with -ιος suffix: ku-ta-i-si-jo (1x) vs. ku-ta-si-jo (2x). MELENA (supra n. 6) 94. The reform led to court cases, Solomonic differentiations of when reformed spelling was mandatory and when not, reformed reforms and over twenty years now of debate. See http://www.uniprotokolle.de/Lexikon/Reform_der_deutschen_Rechtschreibung_von_1996.html.

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Significantly, especially in the Pylos corpus, Linear B has another sign (*76) = ra2 that originally represented a palatalized liquid /ry/ or /ly/ and can come to stand for the depalatalization of a palatalized liquid most often by gemination of the liquid. It seems to derive from a Linear A sign (AB *76). Linear A seems to have had a series of post-palatalized and post-labialized consonants.19 Thus at Pylos in the several series that deal with women workers and children associated with them and their rations, we find variation between (1) a full spelling of at least the original pronunciation (perhaps fossilized) of feminine mainly agentive occupational terms a-ke-ti-ri-ja, me-re-ti-ri-ja, o-ti-ri-ja, pe-ki-ṭị[-ri-ja, where ja in -ri-ja in all instances is designating the nominative plural feminine of the adjectival suffix -ιος -ιᾱ -ιον with explicit representation of the intervocalic palatal glide /-ri-yai/; and alternative spellings with ra2: a-ke-ti-ra2 , me-reti-ra2 , o-ti-ra2, and pe-ki-ti-ra2 where the consonant sign that itself has a palatalized value: /-ryai/ is used with the preceding dental stop /t/ conventionally to represent /-triyai/. Melena20 traces the development of this sign (*76) to represent double consonants coming from yodized consonants (see as a prime example the frequent personal name qa-ra2) and eventually coming to represent other consonant combinations that result in double consonants, e.g., perhaps an /sl/ cluster before an a-vowel in the notoriously difficult to interpret personal name e-ke-ra2-wo. Melena’s explanation is persuasive: *rya, *lya > /rr’a, ll’a/ > /rra, lla/ and here, in the Pylos texts, a-ke-ti-ri-ja represents accurately /askētriyai/ with a palatal glide and an anticipatory dummy vowel after /t/. And here a-ke-ti-ra2 would seem to be representing conventionally the same pronunciation: /askētriyai/.21 Hand 1 at Pylos in fact uses both forms. On Aa 815 for /askētriyai/ (traditionally translated as ‘finishers’ although that is not necessarily the happiest translation for an agent-type noun derived from the Greek verb ἀσκέω) women located we think at Pylos, Hand 1 uses the -ti-ra2 spelling; on Aa 717 for /askētriyai/ women located at the site of ro-u-so Hand 1 uses the -ti-ri-ja spelling. Hand 1 might be induced to change his spelling by differences in pronunciation from his oral source of information. When he uses the spelling a-ke-ti-ra2, he might be hearing and writing something close to a palatalized /r/ but with an evanescent /i/ between /r/ and /y/: /askētr(i)yai/. Or he could hear and be trying to represent something closer to /*askētrrai/ where the /rr/ is a strong /r/, but be affected by the common spelling with ti, so that he does not write what would, again sensu stricto, be required if ra2 were a fully geminated resonant: *a-ke-ta-ra2. There is a good parallel here. The term wanaks is represented as wa-na-ka in Linear B. Because of that spelling, the compound adjectival form is spelled wa-na-ka-te-ro instead of the ‘correct’ spelling wa-na-ke-tero. We find both wa-na-ka-te and wa-na-ke-te for the dative singular also. The problem here is that it is unclear how Mycenaean tablet-writers would have handled something coming close to a cluster such as /*trr/. But it would seem that leaving the necessary anticipatory dummy vowel -i after /t/ intact as a kind of ‘traditional spelling’ would be the way to go. Melena22 points out that in post-Homeric Greek the outcome from the agent suffix *-tr-yh2 is -τρια but that Aeolic dialect shows a poetic variant -τερρα with double liquids that might somehow derive from speaking and perceptions of what is spoken that lie behind the *ti-ra2 spelling and its actual pronunciation. García Ramón speculates along the same lines positing a development as follows: “*/CRyV/ dà luogo a /CR’V/ o /CirrV/ (con depalatalizzazione dopo /i/), p.es., nei nomi d’agente femminili in -ti-ra2 (/-tr’a/ [opp. /-tra/] o /-tirra/), alternanti con -ti-ri-ja (/-tria-/)…. È possibile che alla grafia -ti-ra2 corrisponda la stessa realtà fonetica soggiacente a lesb. let. -τερρα, ep. δότειρα (Hes.)”.23 What is clear, however, here is that a-ke-ti-ra2 does not, sensu stricto, represent an ending -τριαι pure and simple. 19 20 21

22 23

PALAIMA and SIKKENGA (supra n. 5) 604-605. MELENA (supra n. 6) 63-66 and p. 63 for e-ke-ra2-wo and variant spellings like ]ẹ-ke-ri-ja-wo. In personal e-mails, Melena (07-14-2019 and 07-23-19) explains two points: (1) that in Mycenaean spelling practice, consonants in coda are not represented; and (2) in the cluster /tr/ so frequently used in Greek feminine agent nouns, the /t/ serves as an impediment to palatalization. So original spellings in -tiri-ja are frequent. But the spelling in -ti-ra2, which is common to Hands 1, 2 and 23, uses ra2 to represent /-triya/ not /-trya/. MELENA (supra n. 6) 65. J.L. GARCÍA RAMÓN, “Il greco miceneo”, in DEL FREO and PERNA (supra n. 15) vol. 1, 214. I believe here that -ti-ri-ja (/-tria-/) should read (/-triya/) in order to represent the glide and eliminate the

THE STRANGE CASE OF *33 ra3 ON PYLOS TABLET Aa 61

9

Thoughts and second thoughts about the sign identified now as *33 ra3 on Pylos tablet Aa 61 Our strange case concerns Pylos tablet Aa 61. What we have discussed above is all relevant. In a minuscule mimeographed form in the PASP Kober archives, we are given in conventional sign forms the transcription of what was then known as Pylos tablet Aa 15 and is now known as PY Aa 61 seen here in Pl. Ia. Kober on April 8, 1948 wrote to Bennett, “It’s too bad we can’t see one another’s material. It would be extremely helpful. As it is, it’s a matter of stabbing in the dark.”24 Indeed. Sometime not long after November 22, 1948,25 Kober finally got to see the University of Cincinnati photographs of the Pylos tablets excavated in 1939. On a postcard of January 6, 1949, Kober is already talking about checking these photographs where Bennett had them at Yale University. And on Saturday December 4, 1948, written on a formal personal bifold card printed MISS ALICE E. KOBER 1050 EAST 43rd STREET BROOKLYN 10, NEW YORK,26 Kober announces her intention to travel to Yale University on Monday, December 6 to check her transcriptions against Pylos tablet photographs. On a small sheet of formerly two-hole ring-bound notebook-style ruled paper of common quality, Kober has drawn in three columns (Pl. Ib) in fountain pen rather calligraphically the 80 or 79 phonographic signs that then made up the composite Linear B syllabary at Knossos and Pylos. At the bottom of the third column is where our fun begins. We can see at the very bottom of the third column of Pl. Ib what we now identify as signs AB 29 pu2 (circled, I believe by Bennett, in red pencil) and B 33 ra3 written in the full and elaborate style that is typical of Pylos ‘master scribe’ Hand 1 and all other versions of the sign by other tablet-writers at Pylos with the exception of the form on PY Aa 61 by Hand 4 (cf. Pl. IIa). As noted by Kober, the sign was then attested in Linear B only at Pylos. Linear B sign *33 is still unattested at other sites with reasonable numbers of Linear B clay tablets: Mycenae, Tiryns, Khania, Knossos. As already mentioned (supra n. 9), it is now attested on two sealings from Hagios Vasileios in Laconia.27 Melena suggests 28 that the typical form of Linear B sign *33 with its stem-and-flower-like appearance can be traced back to Cretan Hieroglyphic sign 023 and that it is identical to the ideogram or logogram *144 found so far in Linear B only at Knossos and designated as CROCus = ‘saffron’, the plant whose flower has stigmas or strings or strands that are used as a food spice or powerful coloring agent and is widely believed medicinally to have mood and perception-altering properties.29 There is much to recommend Melena’s suggestion of a Hieroglyphic antecedent (cf. forms in Pl. IIb). The typical Cretan Hieroglyphic sign when inscribed into clay (including upon the still moist surface of a clay pot #324) has below a wavy, even zigzag, or crooked stem (seen in #039.b, #046.a, #049.b, #061.a, #089.a, #113.d, #324) and at the top, fairly symmetrically placed, a ‘flower’ with three petal-like

24

25

26 27

28 29

hyphen. Alice E. Kober letter to Emmett L. Bennett, Jr. (April 8, 1948) readable on-line at https://repositories. lib.utexas.edu/handle/2152/62493. Bennett himself circles the mistyped year date in Kober’s heading: 194[9]. In the letter Emmett L. Bennett, Jr. to Alice E. Kober (November 22, 1948), Bennett informs Kober of Carl Blegen’s agreement that the two of them share their Pylos and Knossos materials https:// repositories.lib.utexas.edu/handle/2152/62534. Alice E. Kober letter to Emmett L. Bennett, Jr. (December 4, 1948). Our great thanks to Adamantia Vasilogamvrou and Vassilis Petrakis for permission to add a definitive citation of this important evidence to this paper after I had submitted it for publication. MELENA (supra n. 6) 59-60 and 141. For a fuller discussion focused on ‘saffron’ and how it is represented in images and script, see J. DAY, “Counting Threads. Saffron in Aegean Bronze Age Society and Writing,” OJA 304 (2011a) 369-391. More comprehensively, on artistic representations and the cultural uses and significance of saffron, see J. DAY, “Crocuses in Context: A Diachronic Survey of the Crocus Motif in the Aegean Bronze Age,” Hesperia (2011b) 337-379. For bibliography on scientifically proven medicinal qualities, see DAY (2011a) 370-371. For uses as a dye, as a medicine and as a sacred plant, see DAY (2011b) 364-370.

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components30 (seen in #036.a, #043.a1, #046.a, #049.b, #061.a, #089.a, #113.d, #114.d, #324). The clearest parallel to Linear B *33 for inscribed signs is #089.a. The one ‘pictorially’ carved sign on a stone seal (#243.γ), however, has embellishments to the three upper petals and small side ‘leaves’ along the stem (two on the left and three on the right). These side ‘leaves’ may be the prototypes for the three symmetrical horizontal strokes to the left and right of the vertical stem of the rather complex Linear B sign *33. At Knossos (Pl. IIIa), the forms of *144 (the ideogram for saffron) from Area C (= the early Room of the Chariot Tablets deposit) lack the small symmetrical strokes on either side of the lower stem (Pl. IIIa Np 268 and Np 278). The Np tablets from Area I3 by Hand 134 have such dashes or dots along the stem (Pl. IIIa Np 858). In both deposits of tablets the sign invariably has the double-curved elements at the upper left and right that would seem to suggest the stigmas or threads of the flower as can be seen in a scientific drawing and photograph (Pl. IIIb and c).31 Pylos tablet Aa 61 is part of the set of twelve tablets by tablet-writer Hand 4 that records the numbers of women and associated boys and girls (not necessarily sons and daughters) who are identified mainly by ethnics or occupational terms and are located in the Further Province of Pylos.32 As Kober (Pl. Ia) reads the text, the fifth sign on the tablet is uncertain. She notes the uncertainty with a question mark. Likewise in Bennett’s 1951 preliminary transcription of the Pylos tablets33 (Pl. IIId) the sign is drawn as it looks on the tablet (then identified as Aa 15), very unlike the canonical form of what later is assigned the number *33 but here was already slotted into the unnumbered syllabary (Pl. IIIe) in the middle of the third row of signs in the same relative position between later sign *32 qo and sign *34.34 The sign on Aa 61 (Pl. IVa-b) bears little resemblance to the full ‘florid’ versions of *33 elsewhere at Pylos. See, for example, *33 on Aa 506 (Pl. IVc-d) which proves Melena’s idea that *33 derives from the ‘flowery’ ideogram *144 CROCus (Pl. IIIa) of the Room of the Chariot Tablets. Even in Bennett’s 1955 publication of all the Linear B inscriptions found at Pylos during the 1939 and 1952-1954 excavation seasons,35 the sign on Aa 61 is clearly drawn to differentiate it from sign *33 (Pl. Va and Pl. Vb Aa 61 normalized; Pl. Vc sign *33 ra3 on Aa 506); and its peculiar shape is not found in the table of different forms of the Linear B signs found at Knossos, Pylos and Mycenae (Pl. Vd).36 By 1973, however, The Pylos Tablets Transcribed gives the text of Aa 61 as: pu-ro ze-pu2-ra3 MUL 26 ko-wa 15 ko-wo 7 DA 1 TA 1 without any discussion of the history of doubt about the identification of the sign.37 Ventris and Chadwick in 1956 already had the reading: ze-pu2?-ra3, with no indication of doubt that the final syllable was 30

31

32

33 34

35 36 37

DAY 2011a (supra n. 29) 370 calls the flower ‘trifoliate’ and stresses that in form the ‘strands’ are important to differentiate the ideogram for saffron (*144) from the ideogram for olives (*122). This is in general true. See DAY 2011a (supra n. 29) 375, fig. 4, for a photo of “an LM II sherd from Knossos with [a painted] crocus featuring prominent stigmas”. For the diachronic development of the artistic motif of the crocus, see DAY 2011b (supra n. 29) 352-353 table 1. The two handiest discussions are the classic full study by J. CHADWICK, “The Women of Pylos,” in J.P. OLIVIER and T.G. PALAIMA (eds), Texts, Tablets and Scribes (1988) 43-95; and the recent extensive reexamination by B.A. OLSEN, Women in Mycenaean Greece (2014) 66-133. The evidence for location is derived primarily from the label Wa 114 and related tablets of the Ad series (CHADWICK [supra] 47, 75, 86-87; OLSEN [supra] 70-71 [table with ze-pu2-ra3 missing], 80-81 [ze-pu2-ra3 once misspelled as “ze-pur2ra3” sic] and 110) and the designation of an important Further Province site as pu-ro ra-u-ra-ti-jo vs. the capital of the Hither Province and whole territory: plain pu-ro. For a succinct and accurate up-to-date summary of the geography of Messenia with good maps, see M. DEL FREO, “La geografia dei regni micenei,” in DEL FREO and PERNA eds (supra n. 15) vol. 2, 634-643. E.L. BENNETT, Jr. (ed.), The Pylos Tablets. A Preliminary Transcription (1951) 1. Aa 14 (= Aa 506) shows ra3. Aa 15 (= Aa 61) shows our controversial sign. Aa 16 (= Ab 564) shows ra2 drawn as if complete, but it is in fact fragmentary on the tablet. E.L. BENNETT, Jr. (ed.), The Pylos Tablets: Texts of the Inscriptions Found, 1939-1954 (1955) 9. BENNETT (supra n. 35) chart of phonetic signs on p. 201. E.L. BENNETT, Jr. and J.-P. OLIVIER (eds), The Pylos Tablets Transcribed. Part 1: Texts and Notes (1973)

THE STRANGE CASE OF *33 ra3 ON PYLOS TABLET Aa 61

11

represented by sign *33 = ra3. In Scribes of Pylos (1988) I still dot the sign in the chart of the sign forms of tablet-writer Hand 4 in order to indicate its idiosyncratic form and uncertainty about its form being consistent with the canonical ‘floral’ form of *33 ra3. There are two problems here. One is that there is no other case at Pylos or Knossos where a hapax attested sign form within a particular tablet-writer’s repertory varies so much from the characteristic diagnostic shape of a standard sign so as to cast doubt on its identification in the early opinions of the two scholars who knew the palaeography of the signs best before the decipherment. Emmett L. Bennett, Jr. and Alice E. Kober both took infinite pains with small details of the shapes of the signs before much was known about the particular phonetic values of the signs. Their doubt, therefore, holds weight in being a pure witness to how unusual the sign on Aa 61 was and in some ways still remains. The main reason that the sign in the text of tablet Aa 61 is read in Documents in Mycenaean Greek (1956 and 1973) and in Pylos Tablets Transcribed (1973) as ra3 has little to do to do with how it is written. It is an inference from the fact that this clear ethnic name, when written in the genitive plural in the corresponding tablet in the Ad series (Ad 664), is written ze-pu2-ra-o. Thus it was reasoned that the sign on Aa 61 has to have some related value. Since in form it is clearly not sign *76 ra2 /rya/ or *60 ra /ra/, the only remaining possibility in the repertory of Linear B signs is *33 ra3. Compare again the RTI snapshot of the sign on Aa 61 (Pl. IVa) with the characteristic form of *33 ra3 on Aa 506 (Pls Vd and VIa).38 The best parallel I can find for the key elements of the sign on Aa 61 is the CROC ideogram on KN Fg 855 (Pl. VIb-c). Imagine it with the ‘strands’ removed and the linear or dotted embellishments below the flower taken away. Then flip the sign to a mirror image (Pl. VId) so that the main vertical slants upward to the left, not to the right, and the upper straight lines are drawn on the right of the main vertical, not on the left. There are other cases in Linear B of signs being mirror-imaged or reversed in writing on clay, e.g., syllabogram *34 (Pl. VII).39 See especially the mirror imaging of sign *42 wo within the newly created sign *90 dwo.40 The second problem is just what is represented here when one reads the sign as ra3 and the word here as ze-pu2-ra3. From the early stages of interpreting this word with the reading of its third sign as ra3, there has been a considerable amount of wishful thinking. Ventris and Chadwick’s Glossary gives Dzephurai and compares Ζεφυρία old name for Halikarnassos, Strabo IV, 656.41 It also cites the genitive plural form on PY Ad 664 ze-pu2-ra-o as Dzephurāōn. The problem is that with a place name in -ία we would expect that an ethnic derivative would be reduced to a nominative plural by palatalization and duplication of /r/. We, therefore, might expect to see here ra2 instead of ra3 in the spelling of the nominative plural. If the women in Aa 61 are conceived of as coming from a place *Dzephura vel sim., the

38

39

40 41

17. The fifth draft version of the ultimate transcription of the Pylos texts (completed 27 January 2003) by E.L. BENNETT, Jr., J.L. MELENA, J.-P. OLIVIER, T.G. PALAIMA and C.W. SHELMERDINE (eds), The Palace of Nestor at Pylos in Western Messenia, Vol. IV The Inscribed Documents presents an identical text to that of BENNETT and OLIVIER in 1973, again without comment. The forms of signs rendered under *33 prove that the sign on Aa 61 was thought not to be *33, at least not securely enough to be listed as a variant. For instances of this mirror-image reversal see tablet-writers of Cii and Hand 41 as listed by A.P. JUDSON, “Palaeography, Administration and Scribal Training: A Case Study,” in NOSCH and LANDENIUS ENEGREN eds (supra n. 4) 202 n. 47. For the mirror-image reversal of sign *34 at Knossos, Pylos and Thebes, see J.L. MELENA, “Filling Gaps in the Mycenaean Linear B Additional Syllabary: The Case of Syllabogram *34,” in Á. MARTÍNEZ FERNÁNDEZ, B. ORTEGA VILLARO, H. VELASCO LÓPEZ, H. ZAMORA SALAMANCA (eds), ÁGALMA Ofrenda desde la Filología Clásica a Manuel García Teijeiro (2014) 208. MELENA (supra n. 6) charts of signs on pp. 85 and 87. M. VENTRIS and J. CHADWICK, Documents in Mycenaean Greek 2nd ed. (1973) 593. The passage is Strabo 14.2.16: Ἁλικαρνασός, τὸ βασίλειον τῶν τῆς Καρίας δυναστῶν, Ζεφυρία καλουμένη πρότερον. On the identification with Halicarnassus, we should also note in historical times that a promontory with a harboring locale situated in southwestern Cyprus between Paphos and Palaipaphos is also called Ζεφυρία (Strabo 14.6.3).

12

Thomas G. PALAIMA

expected Mycenaean formation would be a derivative in /-aios/, /-aiā/, /aion/.42 In historical times there is a cape in southern Italy (Strabo 6.1.7) called Ζεφύριον and Athenaeus refers to a promontory of the same name in Cyprus.43 The glossary of Del Freo and Perna (2016) by Piquero reads the nominative and genitive plural names both with geminates /-rr-/ as /Dzephurrai/ and /Dzephurrāhōn/ positing the ancient name of Halicarnassos as /Dzephuros/.44 Again the question is why the geminate? Melena in discussing the development of palatalized consonants that are represented by the z- series in Linear B, reconstructs zepu2-ra3 as /dzephurrai/ with a geminate /rr/ as does Piquero. But when he refers to this Linear B word in discussing the value of pu2, he writes it with a simple /r/: At Pylos the ethnic ze-pu2-ra-o PY Ad 664 (Hand 23) gen. plur.; ze-pu2-ra3 PY Aa 61 (Hand 4), nom. plur., /dzephurai/, ‘women from Halikarnassos’ (cf. Ζεφυρίαι, ancient name of Halikarnassos); ze-pu2-ro PY Ea 56 (Hand 43), MN, / dzephuros/. … All of them based on alph. Gr. ζέφυρος, the (North)west wind’. We should at least point out the confusion here. It is not inconsequential that there is so much fuzziness. To muddy the waters further, we should recall that Hand 4, who identifies a group of women as ze-pu2-ra3, identifies another group of women (Aa 63) as ki-ma-ra. Does this rise to the level of making us wonder whether the sign on Aa 61 is not an attempt by Hand 4 to render some modification of the consonant that has as its basic elements /r/ and /a/ in some other way than using the signs *76 ra2 or *33 ra3? We should keep in mind here what I view as Melena’s correct instinct about scribal personal preferences. The tablet-writer (Hand 23) of the corresponding Ad series spells the genitive plurals of ze-pu2ra3 (Hand 4 Aa 61), ki-ma-ra (Hand 4 Aa 63), and ku-te-ra3 (Hand 1 Aa 506) all with -ra-o (Ad 664, Ad 668 and Ad 679). Yet he has and uses frequently in the Ad series *76 ra2 /rya/ to indicate palatalization and possible gemination when writing out the feminine agentive noun forms in the Aa series. This might be the point at which we refuse to apply Occam’s razor. I do not think it is of much use in general in dealing with how we pronounce and identify words and elements of words in Linear B, given that such matters as language perception and representation of spoken words in writing in a period where we have no apparent standardized ‘schooling’ are likely to have been almost unimaginably complicated. Sometimes then what appear to be overly complicated explanations are nonetheless the right ones. Instead I think we might apply the reasoning of the late and much lamented Cornelis Ruijgh:45 ki-ma-ra (PY Aa 63 : nom. pl. f.) / -ra-o (Ad 668 : gén. pl. f.) : mot désignant un groupe de femmes. S’il s’agit d’un ethnique, on pourrait l’interpréter comme Κιμαραί en pensant à Κίμαρος, nom d’un promontoire en Crète. Quant à la formation, on peut comparer ku-te-ra3 e.g. Κυθηραί (PY Aa 506 al.), ethnique de Κύθηρος ou de Κύθηρα (pl. ntr.), et ze-pu2-ra3 Ζεφυραί (PY Aa 61 al.), ethnique de Ζέφυρος. Il est vrai qu’au premier millénaire, on trouve normalement Κυθήριος et Ζεφύριος. Cependendant, il est impossible que -ra3 représente -ριαι ; noter d’ailleurs que l’adjectif féminin Κυθήρᾱ est attesté comme nom propre (‘Déesse de Cythère’).

42 43

44

45

Cf. *te-qa (allative te-qa-de) and te-qa-ja. μετὰ δὲ τὸ Ἡράκλειον ἄκρα τῆς Λοκρίδος ἣ καλεῖται Ζεφύριον. See also Athenaeus 318d: ἔγραψε δὲ καὶ Ποσείδιππος εἰς τὴν ἐν τῷ Ζεφυρίῳ τιμωμένην ταύτην Ἀφροδίτην τόδε τὸ ἐπίγραμμα. Stephanus of Byzantium gives the lemma as Ζεφύριον and continues: ἡ ῾Αλικαρνασσὸς τῆς Καρίας οὕτως ἐκαλεῖτο. Καὶ πόλις Κιλικίας. τὸ ἐθνικὸν Ζεφυριώτης. ἔστι καὶ Σκυθίας χωρίον. ἔστι καὶ ᾽Ιταλίας Ζεφύριον, ἀφ᾽ οὗ Λοκροὶ ᾽Επιζεφύριοι. ἔστι καὶ ἄκρα τῆς Αἰγύπτου, ἀφ᾽ ἧς ἡ ᾽Αφροδίτη καὶ ᾽Αρσινόη Ζεφυρῖτις, ὡς Καλλίμαχος. τὸ οὖν Ζεφυρίτης ἀπὸ τοῦ Ζεφυριώτης, συγκοπῇ τοῦ ω, ὡς τὸ Θρονίτης. ᾽Αρκάδιος δὲ διὰ διφθόγγου γράφει. J. PIQUERO, “Glossario,” in DEL FREO and PERNA eds (supra n. 15) vol. 2, 781. But seemingly without an ancient source to attest to the site bearing this particular name. C.J. RUIJGH, Études sur la grammaire et le vocabulaire du grec mycénien (1967) 366.

THE STRANGE CASE OF *33 ra3 ON PYLOS TABLET Aa 61

13

It is still possible that the sign on Aa 61 is, as it were, misidentified or shoe-horned into the slot in the syllabary known as *33 ra3. By that we mean that Hand 4 perhaps here is using his own ‘sign’ to distinguish something peculiar in this ethnic that describes a group of women from southwestern Anatolia (or Cilicia or southwestern Cyprus or even Egypt). More likely the sign is his simplified (non-floral) version of *33 ra3 in a separate line of stylistic development. Conclusions There is nothing about Pylos tablet Aa 61 that speaks to any lack of straightforward command on the part of tablet-writer Hand 4 in entering the written information upon the tablet surface. It takes considerable gymnastics to derive the sign under discussion from the elaborate canonical form of *33 ra3 that is in widespread use at Pylos and now is attested at Hagios Vasileios (supra nn. 9 and 27). There is also no compelling reason that a phonetic sign developing from a less ornate version of the Knossian CROC ideogram (as seen, for example, on KN Np 855) would have to maintain suggestions of its curvilinear ‘strands’ or the symmetrical mini-strokes along its stem. There is also no compelling reason for positing a geminate /rr/ in ze-pu2-ra3. A straightforward /r/ in a straightforward ethnic in /-os/, /-ā/, /on/ (i.e., not with /-ios/, /-iā/, /ion/) seems the best explanation at this point, despite the ethnic adjectve having the /-ios/, /-iā/, /ion/ form in the historical period and many such ethnics (or toponymic adjectives) being attested in the Linear B tablets. It would be nice to have attested instances of Ζέφυρος as a place name in early Greek from which an ethnic in /-os/, /-ā/, /on/ could develop. We do not have them yet. Ruijgh bases his interpretation solely on the three Mycenaean forms (ki-ma-ra, ku-te-ra3, and ze-pu2ra3) which clearly in his opinion all must be nom. fem. pl. ethnics, two with the diphthong explicitly represented by *33 ra3 and one with ambiguous representation, but clear from context using *60 ra. But we must admit that Ruijgh's interpretation is another instance really of assuming as probable, i.e., able to be proved, what we have insufficient documentation to prove. Thomas G. PALAIMA

14

Thomas G. PALAIMA LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Pl. Ia Pl. Ib

Pl. IIa

Pl. IIb Pl. IIIa Pl. IIIb Pl. IIIc Pl. IIId Pl. IIIe Pl. IVa Pl. IVb

Pl. IVc Pl. IVd

Pl. Va Pl. Vb Pl. Vc Pl. Vd Pl. VIa Pl. VIb Pl. VIc Pl. VId Pl. VII

Kober fountain pen transcription pasted note card of Pylos Aa 61 (then Aa15). Courtesy of PASP archives, Department of Classics, University of Texas at Austin. Kober list of Linear B signs known from Knossos and Pylos, inserted in a letter to Emmett L. Bennett., Jr., dated December 4, 1948. Courtesy of PASP archives, Department of Classics, University of Texas at Austin. José L. Melena layout of the various shapes of ‘superfluous’ or ‘new’ Linear B signs with their values. After J.L. MELENA, “Mycenaean Writing,” in DUHOUX and MORPURGO DAVIES eds (supra n. 6) 87. Variant forms of Cretan Hieroglyphic sign 023 taken from CHIC, 394. Ideogram *144 CROC on Knossos tablets Np 268 Np 278 and Np 858. After CoMIK (1986) vol. 1, 112, 114, 345. Saffron plant. After Elizabeth BLACKWELL, A Curious Herbal (1737-1739) Pl. 144. See: https://www.bl.uk/onlinegallery/ttp/blackwells/accessible/pages25and26.html#content . Photo of saffron flower with what are called strands or strings or stigmas. Transcriptions of texts in Linear B characters. After BENNETT (supra n. 33) 1. Aa 14 (= Aa 506), Aa 15 (=Aa 61), Aa 16 (= Ab 564). Signs used in sign groups at Pylos. After BENNETT (supra n. 33) 82. RTI image of Aa 61 *33 ra3 Hand 4. Courtesy of PASP archives, Department of Classics, University of Texas at Austin. Courtesy Department of Classics, University of Cincinnati. RTI image of Aa 61 *33 ra3 Hand 4 with specular enhancement. Courtesy of PASP archives, Department of Classics, University of Texas at Austin. Courtesy Department of Classics, University of Cincinnati. RTI image of Aa 506 *33 ra3 Hand 1 with diffuse multi-light. Courtesy of PASP archives, Department of Classics, University of Texas at Austin. Courtesy Department of Classics, University of Cincinnati. RTI image of Aa 506 *33 ra3 Hand 1 with normals visualization. Courtesy of PASP archives, Department of Classics, University of Texas at Austin. Courtesy Department of Classics, University of Cincinnati. Drawing of Aa 61. After BENNETT (supra n. 35) 9. Classified order presentation of Aa 61. After BENNETT (supra n. 35) 113. Classified order drawing of *33 ra3 on Aa 506. After BENNETT (supra n. 35) 113. Chart of phonograms as then attested at Knossos, Pylos and Mycenae. After BENNETT (supra n. 35) 201. Closeup of pertinent phonograms in Pl. Vd. CROC ideogram on Knossos tablet Np 855 Area I3 Hand 134. For comparison with sign *33 ra3 on Aa 61 Hand 4. Closeup of CROC ideogram on Knossos tablet Np 855. CROC ideogram on KN Np 855 adapted to appear as it would be written mirror or reverse image. Reversal of sign *34 at Knossos, Pylos and Thebes. After MELENA (supra n. 39) 208.

I

a

b

II

a

b




III

a

c b

d

e

IV

a

b

c

d




V

a b c

d

VI

a

b

c

d

VII

MINOAN LANGUAGE OR LANGUAGES? 1. The word “Minoan” is currently used to characterize the most brilliant ancient civilization of Crete, which was discovered from 1900 onwards by Sir Arthur Evans. It flourished from ca 2500 to ca 1450 B.C.1 In 1906, Evans characterized “Minoan” as “l’ensemble de la grande Civilisation préhistorique de la Crète – éveillant l’idée d’un État centralisé et dynastique – entre la Culture Néolithique et la Colonisation grecque de l’Époque ‘Géométrique’.”2 As we will see, this civilization encompassed different scripts. In Evans’s view, three of these Minoan scripts rendered one sole language (§ 3). The word “Minoan” has, of course, been inspired by the mythical King Minos (Μίνως). In their study of “Minoan”, Karadimas and Momigliano3 have shown that, contrary to a widespread belief and to Evans’ himself statement,4 it was not coined in English by Evans. When Evans began to use ‘prae-Minôan’, ‘Minôan’ and ‘Minoan’,5 the word had already a fairly long history. Karadimas and Momigliano show that its forerunner was German: “minoisch”.6 It began as the translation of ancient Greek words like μινώϊος, but was also used in a chronological sense. In 1823, a Göttingen scholar, K.F.C. Hoeck, used “minoisch” and “vorminoisch” in an important three-volume book devoted to ancient Crete.7 In English, the oldest forms of “Minoan” were “Minoian” and even “Minoän”. “Minoan” itself appeared in 1830 in a translation of a German book, well before Evans. But it was Hoeck’s monumental work which attracted Evans’s attention. Evans referred several times to it8 and Karadimas and Momigliano conclude rightly that he borrowed the word from Hoeck.9 Hoeck supposed that the Minoans were a non-Hellenic people, identified with the Eteocretans. The Eteocretans were then just known through the Greek literary tradition. No single Eteocretan inscription had yet been found, not to speak about the prealphabetic texts excavated later. Nobody could then have the slightest idea of what a pre-Hellenic language of Crete could be. 2. Since 1823, gifted amateurs and archaeologists unearthed no less than six different corpuses of pre-Hellenic texts. The first of them, Eteocretan,10 was discovered by Federico Halbherr (1884): it is the only one dated from the first millennium B.C. and is thus much later than Hoeck’s Minoan period, which ended, according to him, around 1250 B.C. The five other ones are all dated to the Minoan period proper, in the Bronze Age. Linear B was the first to be unearthed. Contrary to a largely widespread conviction, its discoverer was not Evans (supposedly in 1900).11 Indeed, a few years earlier, in 1895 (much better than 1894),12 a 1 2

3

4

5

6 7

8 9 10 11

All the archaeological dates are approximate. A.J. EVANS, Essai de classification des époques de la civilisation minoenne. Résumé d’un discours fait au Congrès d’Archéologie à Athènes (Revised ed., 1906) 5. This definition excludes a Greek presence before the Geometric Period. N. KARADIMAS and N. MOMIGLIANO, “On the Term “Minoan” before Evans’s Work in Crete (1894),” SMEA 46 (2004) 243-258. In his Frazer Lecture at the University of Cambridge of 1931, Evans asserted that in 1896, “the very term ‘Minoan’ was as yet un-minted” (KARADIMAS and MOMIGLIANO [supra n. 3] 244). A.J. EVANS, “Primitive Pictographs and a Prae-Phoenician Script, from Crete and the Peloponnese,” JHS 14 (1894) 270-372. KARADIMAS and MOMIGLIANO (supra n. 3). K.F.C. HOECK, Kreta. Ein Versuch zur Aufhellung der Mythologie und Geschichte, der Religion und Verfassung dieser Insel, von den ältesten Zeiten bis auf die Römer-Herrschaft (1823-1828-1829). EVANS (supra n. 5). KARADIMAS and MOMIGLIANO (supra n. 3). Y. DUHOUX, “Pre-Hellenic Language(s) of Crete,” The Journal of Indo-European Studies 26 (1998) 16-17. Evans began to excavate Knossos on March 23th 1900 and discovered his first Linear B tablet on March 30th 1900.

16

Yves DUHOUX

Cretan amateur, Antonios Zachyrakis or preferably Tsakirakis,13 showed to a French scholar, Charles Clermont-Ganneau, and to Evans the first Linear B tablet ever known in modern times (§ 9). The other four scripts were discovered by Sir Arthur Evans (Linear A and Cretan “hieroglyphic” since 1900),14 Luigi Pernier (Phaistos disk,1908),15 and Spyridon Marinatos (Arkalokhori axe,1934-1935).16 Only two of these six corpuses have been securely read. First, Eteocretan. This was easy, since it is written in the Greek alphabet – but its language is nevertheless still unidentified. Then came Linear B. Michael Ventris joined by John Chadwick demonstrated in 1952 that it was a syllabic script and, moreover, that its language was not pre-Hellenic, as widely believed, but a form of Greek several centuries older than the most ancient Greek alphabetic texts (the Linear B texts date to ca 1390 - ca 1190 B.C.).17 We are then left with four different corpuses and scripts, still defying reading and language identification. They are dated between ca 2100 and ca 1325 B.C. Since Evans, these four scripts have been labelled as Minoan, which is undoubtedly right from a cultural perspective. This practice has, however, led to a tendency of extending “culture” to “language” and considering these scripts in whole or in part as rendering a unique tongue. Hence, a conviction arose that all the Minoans (i.e. the populations living in Crete during the Minoan era) spoke the same speech, which was necessarily not Greek. 3. The first after Hoeck to ascribe a unique language to several Minoan scripts, Cretan “hieroglyphic”, Linear A and B, was Evans himself. He began with the two Linear scripts, which showed in his opinion an “unité linguistique, dont les documents des deux systèmes alliés de l’écriture linéaire contiennent des preuves solides” (1906);18 “the language in both cases was the same” or “essentially the same” (1909).19 Six years before his death (1935), Evans was still persuaded that “the language itself is identical”.20 He concluded even that three Minoan scripts rendered the same tongue: “The ultimate dependence of both the Minoan linear classes on the hieroglyphic and still more primitive pictographic systems that had preceded them in Crete has already received sufficient demonstration. The interconnexion, indeed, is of such a kind as to impose the conclusion that we have to do with an earlier form of the same language”.21 In her admirable paper of 1948, A.E. Kober observed that “it is usually taken for granted that they all [= the Minoan scripts] record the same language”, but she concluded that “the only safe course at present is to proceed on the assumption that each of the scripts records a different language”.22 Four years later, the decipherment of Linear B demonstrated that she was absolutely right. What about the language or languages of the four Minoan scripts, Linear A, Cretan “hieroglyphic”, Phaistos disk and the Arkalokhori axe? This paper aims to help at clarifying this question.

12 13

14

15 16 17

18 19

20 21 22

About this discovery, see appendix, § 9. K. KOPAKA, “Nouvelle évidence sur la fouille Kalokairinos à Knossos,” in J.-P. OLIVIER (ed.), Mykenaïka. Actes du IXe Colloque international sur les textes mycéniens et égéens (1990) 383. DUHOUX (supra n. 10) 3-7, 7-10. On the language of Linear A, see now B. DAVIS, Minoan Stone Vessels with Linear A Inscriptions (2014) 143-278. DUHOUX (supra n. 10) 11-14. DUHOUX (supra n. 10) 14-16. Y. DUHOUX and A. MORPURGO DAVIES (eds), A Companion to Linear B. Mycenaean Greek Texts and their World I-II (2008 and 2011); M. VENTRIS and J. CHADWICK, Documents in Mycenaean Greek (1956, 19732). A third edition of Documents is currently in preparation. EVANS (supra n. 2) 4. A.J. EVANS, Scripta Minoa. The Written Documents of Minoan Crete With Special Reference to the Archives of Knossos I. The Hieroglyphic and Primitive Linear Classes with an Account of the Discovery of the Pre-Phoenician Scripts, their Place in Minoan Story and their Mediterranean Relations (1909) 35, 38. Or “practically identical”: A. EVANS, The Palace of Minos at Knossos IV, 684, 711. EVANS (supra n. 20) 716. A.E. KOBER, “The Minoan Scripts: Fact and Theory,” AJA 52 (1948) 101-102.

MINOAN LANGUAGE OR LANGUAGES?

17

4. None of these scripts has been successfully deciphered so far, though many would-be decipherers have tried to do so – they are frequently convinced that all these corpuses were written in the same language. They did not succeed in convincing the scholarly world, however. Other trials suppose that Linear A would render two different tongues. This is highly improbable, however.23 In fact, it is extremely difficult if not impossible to rigorously demonstrate any identity or difference of languages written in different undeciphered scripts. We are then left with an examination of the arguments supporting the unicity or the multiplicity of language(s) (§ 5-6). Whenever necessary, we will add Eteocretan to the discussion of the Minoan scripts proper. 5. Language unicity? 5.1. Olivier and Godart list about thirty signs (quite probably syllabograms) which could possibly be common to Linear A and Cretan “hieroglyphic”.24 Could this be used as a pro-unicity argument? No, because a similarity or identity of isolated signs or even of scripts has not necessarily to do with the identification of languages. 5.2. Linear A and Cretan “hieroglyphic” share a few identic sequences of several signs. Compare for instance the Linear A so-called “libation formula” and its variants (e.g. LA > B25 a-sa-sa-ra-me) with the Cretan “hieroglyphic” sequence 042-019-019-095-052 viz. H > LB26 a-sa-sa-095-ne. Such examples are not long (three identic signs only) nor frequent enough to prove language identity, however. Moreover, identic forms in two different languages may result from a loan.27 5.3. The Phaistos disk and Linear A share a curious particularity: several sequences of signs may include a chain of fixed signs which can optionally be preceded by other ones, giving the impression of variants of the same word (e.g. X-Y alternating with A-X-Y, B-C-X-Y, etc.). Their frequency is clearly greater than the sequences added after a chain of fixed signs (e.g. V-W alternating with V-W-S, V-W-T-U, etc.). 28 Such features could also appear in languages which are different, but typologically similar, however. 5.4. Cretan “hieroglyphic”, the Phaistos disk and Linear A are fond of reduplicated syllabograms – e.g. H > LB ]077-a-049-016-016-056-077;29 Phaistos disk 29-24-24-20-35;30 LA > B a-sa-sa-ra-me.31 We ignore, however, which of these reduplications are significant, like for instance Linear B Greek de-de-me-na dedemena (δεδεμένα: morphological reduplication of the perfect) “bound”, or fortuitous, like Linear B Greek di-wi-jo-jo Diwyoyo (Δwίοιο: -ojo final of the thematic genitive singular, preceded by -j) “of Zeus”. This feature is thus not conclusive. 5.5. In the first millennium, the Eteocretan corpus has been discovered only in the Eastern part of Crete, almost like, one millennium earlier, “Hieroglyphic” Cretan, which is overwhelmingly concentrated in the Eastern and (less frequently) central areas. This could suggest a likely similarity between the cultures and perhaps languages of these two corpuses – we cannot even exclude that Eteocretan could be an offspring of the “Hieroglyphic” Cretan’s language. So far so good, but even so, this has nothing to do with the linguistic situation of the second millennium. 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30

31

See lastly DAVIS (supra n. 14) 179-181. J.-P. OLIVIER and L. GODART, Corpus Hieroglyphicarum Inscriptionum Cretae (1996) 19. LA > B: Linear A presumed syllabograms phonetically read as their Linear B counterparts. H > LB: Cretan “hieroglyphic” presumed syllabograms phonetically read as their Linear B counterparts. DUHOUX (supra n. 10) 22-24. Y. DUHOUX, “Les langues du linéaire A et du disque de Phaestos,” Minos 18 (1983) 43-46. DUHOUX (supra n. 10) 6, 10, 14. Y. DUHOUX, “Une analyse linguistique du linéaire A,” in Y. DUHOUX (ed.), Études minoennes I. Le linéaire A (1978) 51-53. DUHOUX (supra n. 30) 100-103.

Yves DUHOUX

18

6. Language multiplicity? 6.1. Two different scripts practised in the same area and at the same epoch could certainly render the same speech, but they do not ought to. Four different scripts offer a much more difficult case and suggest different languages. 6.2. In a well-known passage (Odyssey 19.176 sqq.), Homer describes Crete. Ulysses is speaking and pretends to be a Cretan. Crete is, he says, a many languages country, with no less than five different populations and languages: Κρήτη τις γαῖ᾿ ἔστι, μέσῳ ἐνὶ οἴνοπι πόντῳ, καλὴ καὶ πίειρα, περίρρυτος· ἐν δ᾿ἄνθρωποι πολλοί, ἀπειρέσιοι, καὶ ἐννήκοντα πόληες. ἄλλη δ᾿ἄλλων γλῶσσα μεμιγμένη· ἐν μὲν Ἀχαιοί, ἐν δ᾿Ἐτεόκρητες μεγαλήτορες, ἐν δὲ Κύδωνες, Δωριέες τε τριχάικες δῖοί τε Πελασγοί. “There is a land called Crete in the midst of the wine-dark sea, a fair rich land, surrounded by water, and there are many men in it, past counting, and ninety cities. They have not all the same speech; their tongues are mixed. There dwell Achaeans, there great-hearted native Cretans, there Cydonians, and Dorians in three divisions, and noble Pelasgians”.32 Of course, Homer is not an historian and his poems offer a blend of different eras and traditions. Moreover, he can be wrong and one should remember that Ulysses is an Achaean Greek supposed to give his own personal vision of the island’s speeches. We are, however, able to check these Homeric data, because four of these five groups demonstrably inhabited Crete. 1) “Achaeans” is one of the Homeric names given to the Mycenaeans. We are now sure that they lived in Crete, spoke Greek and used Linear B. 2) During the first millennium, the Eteocretans engraved several alphabetic texts in their own language, which is still unidentified but non-Greek. Moreover, they seem to share clear Minoan traditions. And finally, Eteocretan has been found only in the Eastern part of Crete, almost like “Hieroglyphic” Cretan (§ 5.5). This non-Greek language could then be pre-Hellenic. 3) The Cydonians were the inhabitants of Cydonia, nowadays Khania, in Western Crete. Linear A and Linear B have been unearthed in Cydonia. Since Linear B is the script of the Mycenaeans, which are certainly the Homeric Achaeans, it is tempting to suppose that the people using Linear A could be the Cydonians. 4) The Dorians were the main Cretan inhabitants in the first millennium. They spoke Greek and used the alphabet. This parallel is not relevant for the Minoan period, however. 5) The Pelasgians are considered as pre-Hellenic, but their presence is not substantiated by inscriptions. 6.3. In the first half of the first millennium B.C., the Cretan linguistic situation is not a simple one. Of course, Doric Greek is the main language. But there are other ones. For instance, the area of Arkades is a pocket where an Arcado-Cypriot Greek dialect was spoken, as shown by its archaic inscriptions.33 There were also non-Greek people, like the Eteocretans (§ 5.5), not to speak about occasional inhabitants like, for instance, Semitic people. This suggests that a linguistic diversity would be at home in second millennium B.C. Crete. 6.4. One of the Minoan scripts, the “Hieroglyphic” Cretan, is almost unknown in Western Crete, while Linear A is found in the whole island. Unless this geographic contrast is accidental, it suggests a difference of cultures and perhaps languages between “Hieroglyphic” Cretan and Linear A. 32 33

HOMER, Odyssey, Volume II, Books 13-24, translated by A.T. Murray, revised by George E. Dimock (1919). Y. DUHOUX, “Les éléments grecs non doriens du crétois et la situation dialectale grecque au IIe millénaire,” Cretan Studies 1 (1988) 57-72.

MINOAN LANGUAGE OR LANGUAGES?

19

6.5. Cretan Linear B shows God's names alien to Greek, like a-ro-do-ro-o, pi-pi-tu-na, ]qe-sa-ma-qa. The curious thing is that these names are unknown in Linear A.34 Their absence is especially telling because we have several Linear A votive texts where Minoan religious words are expected. Perhaps were these Linear B loans borrowed from other Minoan people than those writing Linear A. The word λαβύρινθος “labyrinth” has no Greek etymology. It appears in Cretan Linear B as da-pu2ri-to-jo daphurinthoyo (?; genitive singular) but not in Linear A – observe the pre-Hellenic suffix -νθος and the special Linear B spelling. This example is not conclusive, however, because the extreme rarity of da-pu2-rito-jo in Linear B. 6.6. Several rather frequent Cretan Linear B place names considered as non-Greek do not appear in Linear A. For instance, a-mi-ni-so Amnisos (Ἀμνισός), ra-su-to Lasunthos, tu-ri-so Tulissos (Τυλισσός), u-ta-no, etc. Observe the -νθος suffix and the endings -σ(σ)ός, which are typical of borrowed words.35 If not fortuitous, this absence suggests the existence of more than one pre-Hellenic language. A few Linear B place names considered as non-Greek could appear in Linear A.36 For instance, the Mycenaean Cretan place name su-ki-ri-ta matches Linear A forms like LA > B su-ki-ri-te-i-ja and ]su-ki-ri-ta. See also Φαιστός, the name of Phaistos, in Southern Crete, written pa-i-to Phaistos in Linear B and in Linear A: LA > B pa-i-to. We are not sure that these Linear A forms are really place names, however. 7. None of the arguments presented above is really compelling if considered in isolation: in the best cases, they add just a touch of probability. We then have to discuss their groupings and their relative weights. The language unicity has five arguments, but two of them can be explained by chance (§ 5.1, 5.4). The identic sequences of several signs in common are too few to be conclusive (§ 5.2). The geographical distribution of “Hieroglyphic” Cretan and Eteocretan (§ 5.5), is irrelevant, since a first millennium language like Eteocretan has proved until now unable to throw light upon the undeciphered scripts of the second millennium. The sequences that may appear more frequently before than after a chain of fixed signs (§ 5.3) could be significant if we were sure that they were not only due to a typological similarity. Four of the six arguments for language multiplicity seem more convincing. They include: the surprising high number of different scripts in the same island (§ 6.1); Homer’s testimony, which cannot be simply ignored, though being a poetic work (§ 6.2); the similar asymmetric geographical distribution of Linear A and “Hieroglyphic” Cretan could only be a sign of cultural diversity, but the other arguments suggest that it could reflect a linguistic difference (§ 6.4); the pre-Hellenic Linear B religious names unknown in Linear A seem to be significant, considering our nice corpus of Linear A votive texts (§ 6.5). The Cretan linguistic diversity in the first half of the first millennium B.C. (§ 6.3) is an interesting parallel, but it does not prove that the same existed in Minoan times. The argument of Linear B place names (§ 6.6) unknown in Linear A is not compelling because we are not sure that the Linear A corpus included enough place names. 8. Conclusion It seems reasonably safe to conclude that a multiplicity of languages in Crete during the Minoan period is more likely than a language unicity.37 However, the only ways to definitely settle the point could be a successful decipherment of several Minoan scripts or a spectacular increase of their corpuses.

34

35

36 37

C. CONSANI and M. NEGRI, Testi Minoici trascritti con interpretazione e glossario (1999); J. YOUNGER, Linear A Texts & Inscriptions in phonetic transcription & Commentary, currently at http://people.ku.edu/ ~jyounger/LinearA/#8. J.L. GARCÍA RAMÓN, “Mycenaean onomastics,” in DUHOUX and MORPURGO DAVIES eds 2011 (supra n. 17) 242. CONSANI and NEGRI (supra n. 34); YOUNGER (supra n. 34). KOBER (supra n. 22) 102 wrote already “Minoan cannot be deciphered, because we do not know if ‘Minoan’ existed. We have six Minoan scripts”.

20

Yves DUHOUX

If so, how could this linguistic diversity have arisen? Accurately answer this question is, of course, beyond our means, but some hypothetical reconstructions are available. The picture submitted by Davis seems especially attractive:38 “The most likely scenario is that by the time LA came into use, the Minoan language [i.e. the tongue behind Linear A39] had been developing independently on Crete for several millennia, and had then been influenced by a number of immigrant language-stocks during that time, most notably during the Final Neolithic and EM I. For most of the Neolithic, many of the inhabitants of central Crete may have spoken a language descended from that of the Initial Neolithic settlers of Knossos – though during the four millennia between that time and the Final Neolithic, it seems likely that this Knossian language would have evolved into different dialects, and perhaps different daughter languages, especially in populations that moved to and settled other regions of the island. By the end of EM I, each of these dialects or languages would have been influenced in its own ways by the language(s) of the new settlers in that region. In addition, the new immigrant language(s) may have persisted in pockets on Crete for quite some time.” 9. Appendix: the first Linear B tablet found in Knossos This text, KN Ga(2) 34, is important for the history of Linear B, because it is the very first tablet known to have been discovered in modern times. I offer below the data chronologically ordered. In 1895, a French scholar, Charles Clermont-Ganneau, was shown this tablet and commented a few years later, in 1901: “La découverte si retentissante, faite depuis, à Knossos, par M. Evans, celle de ces fameuses tablettes de terre cuite portant des inscriptions dans le système d’écriture dite égéenne, a un précédent qu’il n’est peut-être pas inutile de faire connaître. En 1895, j’avais remarqué entre les mains d’un habitant de Candie, M. Tsakirakis, un fragment de tablette de terre cuite sur lequel étaient gravées deux lignes de caractères semblant bien appartenir à ce même système d’écriture. Le fragment avait été trouvé sur le site de Knossos, au lieu dit Makri Tikhos. L’argile était dure, noirâtre; le revers de la tablette, brut; toute la partie gauche manquait. Les caractères avaient été finement incisés avant la cuisson. Devant les exigences du détenteur, j’avais dû, à mon grand regret, renoncer à acquérir cette tablette; j’ai dû me borner à en prendre un estampage, que j’ai l’honneur de mettre sous les yeux de l’Académie”.40 This squeeze was reproduced with this comment: “le premier spécimen connu de ce genre d’inscriptions en écriture crétoise préhistorique, a disparu lors des massacres et du pillage de Candie, et semble être à jamais perdue… M. Clermont-Ganneau présente l’estampage qu’il en avait pris lors de son exploration de Crète en 1895 et qui demeure· aujourd’hui le seul témoin authentique de ce précieux original. On remarquera notamment le dernier signe qui est, selon toute apparence, un signe numérique composé de cinq barres d’unités disposées à la mode égypto-chaldéenne”.41 This squeeze is now reproduced in KT6,42 with its exact source.43 The find place mentioned by Clermont-Ganneau, “Makri Tikhos”, is in fact located in the site of Kephala.44

38 39

40 41

42 43

44

DAVIS (supra n. 14) 179. DAVIS (supra n. 14) 179-181 considers that Linear A was a Minoan lingua franca, and admits “the likehood that several languages were spoken on Minoan Crete”. C. CLERMONT-GANNEAU, “[Tablette en terre cuite de Cnossos],” CRAI 45 (1901) 43. C. CLERMONT-GANNEAU, “[Tablette en terre cuite de Cnossos avec inscription en écriture préhistorique, suite de la communication du 11 janvier],” CRAI 45 (1901) 167-168. J.L. MELENA and R.J. FIRTH, The Knossos Tablets (20196) ii. J. CHADWICK et al., Corpus of Mycenaean Inscriptions from Knossos (1986-1990-1998) 1, 18 reproduces the probably wrong details of A.J. EVANS, Scripta Minoa. The Written Documents of Minoan Crete With Special Reference to the Archives of Knossos II. The Archives of Knossos. Clay Tablets inscribed in Linear Script B edited from Notes, and Supplemented by John L. Myres (1952) 38 (see below). M. PANAGIOTAKI, “Knossos and Evans: buying Kephala,” in G. CADOGAN, E. HATZAKI and A. VASILAKIS (eds), Knossos. Palace, City, State (2004) 516.

MINOAN LANGUAGE OR LANGUAGES?

21

In 1909, A. Evans comments: “In 1895 I was shown a part of a burnt clay slip then in the possession of a Candiote, Kyrios Zachyrakis, said to have been found on the site of Kephala, presenting some incised linear signs which seemed to belong to an advanced system of writing. It had been apparently a surface find, and there was nothing by which to determine its age. The clay slip itself perished at the time of the destruction of the Christian Quarter, but I took a careful copy of it at the time. The object itself, standing as it did entirely isolated, was still of such an uncertain nature that, when publishing some supplementary materials on the Cretan script in 1896, I preferred to place this inscribed fragment, the potential significance of which might be so far-reaching, to ‘a reserve account’ ”.45 And Evans describes his first discovery of a Linear B tablet on the site of Knossos: “On March 30, 1900, the exploration of the area above the Southern Terrace brought to light the larger part of an elongated clay tablet with signs and numbers incised upon it, which I at once recognized as presenting the same form of linear script as that of the fragmentary clay slip seen in 1895”. In 1935, in his Palace of Minos,46 Evans states that “on the site of Knossos itself my hopes had been encouraged at an early date… by the sight of a fragment of a burnt-clay slip presenting some incised linear signs, which had been a surface find on the site, derived no doubt from the previous diggings in the Third Magazine [note: It was in the possession of Kyrios Zachyrakis, a Candia chemist, and subsequently perished at the time of the massacre and the destruction of the Christian quarter of the town in 1899]. But the few signs preserved on this seemed to be of so advanced a character that it was difficult off-hand to accept them as Minoan. But hopes were raised and imagination kindled, though for the time this fragmentary relic could only be placed to a reserve account”. In 1952 J.L. Myres produces Evans’s copy as “Antonios Zakhyrakis tablet” and states that “N° 34 is the tablet found in surface soil by Antonios Zakhyrakis; copied and photographed by AE in 1894”.47 At least two of these data conflict with Evans’s own words forty years before (1909).48 (1) Evans dates his examination of 1895, not in 1894. In fact, he paid a visit to Minos Kalokairinos on March 16th 1894 and his Travel Diary describes the items that he saw as “a small collection of pottery from Knossos, with very good Mykenaean designs”.49 (2) Evans himself alludes to a “careful copy” and not a photograph. Myres thinks that Zakhyrakis was the discoverer of this text, but Kopaka50 supposes more likely that Zakhyrakis (or Zachyrakis) was indeed its owner in 1895, but that it was discovered by Minos Kalokairinos during his “excavations” of 1878 or 1879, as already suspected by Evans himself. Yves DUHOUX

45 46 47 48 49 50

EVANS (supra n. 19) 17-18. EVANS (supra n. 20) 667-668. EVANS (supra n. 43) 38, no. 34. EVANS (supra n. 19) 17. KOPAKA (supra n. 13) 384. KOPAKA (supra n. 13) 383.

NAMES AND DESIGNATIONS OF PEOPLE IN LINEAR A: A CONTEXTUAL STUDY OF TABLETS HT 85 AND 117 Anthroponyms and tablet HT 117 Linear A tablets contain a number of so-called “1-lists” – that is, lists of words, each followed by the numeral “1”. These lists have often been taken to contain anthroponyms, an assumption first made by Furumark in 1956.1 Packard defended this assumption based on the fact that some Linear B tablets also contain 1-lists without the VIR or MULIER logogram before each numeral: “Lists of personal names in Linear B are recognizable by the presence of the ideogram VIR or MULIER followed by the numeral ‘1’; but some Linear B name lists omit the ideogram and have a structure identical to these Linear A lists (PY Vn 865, KN Ap 482, As 1517, 1520).”2 The structure of the four tablets he cites, however, is in fact not quite identical to the structure of the Linear A lists. On KN As 1517 and 1520, the 1-lists end with a total preceded by to-so VIR, confirming that men are what is being counted. On PY Vn 865 and KN Ap 482 (the latter now classed as KN V 482 + 7868),3 the 1-lists contain no totals – but then, the ends of these lists, where totals would ordinarily be, are damaged; thus it is impossible to be certain that these 1-lists did not end with a total preceded by VIR. By contrast: though Linear A 1-lists do sometimes end with a total preceded by ku-ro, the VIR logogram is never included as a part of this total; indeed, this logogram never occurs at all in Linear A 1lists, not even in their headers. In short: there is no certain exact Linear B parallel to the Linear A 1-lists on any of the tablets Packard cites; thus Nakassis and Pluta, in their important article applying multidimensional scaling to Linear A tablets, rightly warn against assuming that 1-lists contain anthroponyms simply because they are 1-lists. Though we believe that it would be counterintuitive to assume that none of the Linear A 1-lists contain anthroponyms, we agree with Nakassis and Pluta that identifying any 1-list as containing anthroponyms must be based on a context wider than just the list itself.4 1 2

3 4

D.W. PACKARD, Minoan Linear A (1974) 42 n. 8. PACKARD (supra n. 1) 41-42, esp. 42; see also I. SCHOEP, The Administration of Neopalatial Crete. A Critical Assessment of the Linear A Tablets and Their Role in the Administrative Process (2002) 151. F. AURORA, DĀMOS. Database of Mycenaean at Oslo (2019) at www2.hf.uio.no/damos/. D. NAKASSIS and K. PLUTA, “Linear A and Multidimensional Scaling,” in K.P. FOSTER and R. LAFFINEUR (eds), METRON. Measuring the Aegean Bronze Age (2003) 336. We are much warier, though, about their warning (on the same page) against treating the words in a Linear A list as semantic equivalents, based on their (unsourced) assertion that “some Linear B tablets at Knossos (the Fs series)... list personal names and toponyms as parallel entries on the same tablet”. Actually, a search through the 18 tablets in the Fs series shows that though many of them contain several logograms, most of them contain only a single word (or, in the case of Fs 9, a single word preceded by the end of another). Only three Fs tablets actually contain two words; none contain more than two. The three tablets containing two words are Fs 3 (a-*65-ma-na-ke / me-na), Fs 4 (a-ro-do-ro-o / wa-ke-ta) and Fs 9 (]qe-sa-ma-qa / ta-mi-te-mo). Ventris and Chadwick’s assessments of the meanings of these six words in M.G.F. VENTRIS and J. CHADWICK, Documents in Mycenaean Greek (2nd ed. 1973) 527-594, are as follows: a-*65-ma-na-ke Dat.?, recipient of offerings, divine name? me-na Possibly acc. sing.: mēna ‘month’, but context obscure and perhaps a different word a-ro-do-ro-o Prob. name of a divinity or shrine wa-ke-ta Recipient of offerings? ]qe-sa-ma-qa Obscure, possibly divine name ta-mi-te-mo Obscure, destination of offerings? Thus in fact, the meanings of all these words are uncertain: they could be toponyms, theonyms, anthroponyms, shrine-names, or something else entirely. If Linear B anthroponyms and toponyms ever do occur as “parallel entries on the same tablet”, the KN Fs series provides no reliable evidence of this...

Brent DAVIS and Miguel VALÉRIO

24

One obvious way of widening the contexts of Linear A 1-lists is to assess their words for potential parallels in Linear B: for example, if a 1-list contains multiple words with parallels to Linear B anthroponyms, this might help support the notion that the Linear A list contains anthroponyms. This approach produces the most interesting results when applied to HT 117, written by HT Scribe 9:5 Table 1: Linear A tablet HT 117 (HT Scribe 9) ma-ka-ri-te • ki-ro • u-mi-na-si • u-su mi-tu ku-ra-mu ma-ru ku-pa3-nu tu-ju-ma u-di-mi mi-ru-ta-ra-re te-ja-re na-da-re ku-ro

1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 10

sa-ta • ku-ku-da-ra ko-sa-i-ti da-mi-nu da-ne-ku-ti ki-da-ro qi-tu-ne • ku-re-ju di-ki-se

1 1 1 1 1 1 1

In terms of its structure, this tablet appears to begin with the heading ma-ka-ri-te / ki-ro, followed by three 1-lists, each preceded by a subheading (u-mi-na-se, sa-ta, and qi-tu-ne). The first 1-list is correctly totaled as “ku-ro 10”. Meanwhile, the tablet contains no fewer than five words with potential parallels to male anthroponyms (or potential male anthroponyms) in Linear B, all of them attested only at Knossos:6 Table 2: Words on HT 117 with potential parallels to Linear B anthroponyms No. 1. 2. 3.

Linear A ku-pa3-nu ku-ku-da-ra te-ja-re

4. 5a. 5b.

na-da-re ki-da-ro

Linear B ka-pa3-no ku-ka-da-ro te-ja-ro ]te-ja-ro te-ja-ro no-da-ro ki-da-ro ki-do-ro

Knossos tablets Df 1219 Uf 836 V 479 X 5525 X 8661 As 609+5866+8589; Dc 1228+1455+fr. E 842 X 7557

Meaning MN MN MN

MN MN? MN?

In parallels 1-4, the final vowels of the Linear A and Linear B words differ, perhaps indicating differences in the grammatical endings employed by the different languages.7

5

6

7

and we certainly know of no Linear B 1-list containing words that are not semantic equivalents. Thus treating the words in a particular Linear A 1-list as semantic equivalents would seem to us to be the most sensible course of action, at least until we have some justifiable reason to do otherwise. (Justifiable reasons to do otherwise do exist, as we demonstrate later in this paper.) All Linear A transliterations in this paper are after J.G. YOUNGER, Linear A Texts and Inscriptions in Phonetic Transcription (2019), available at people.ku.edu/~jyounger/LinearA/. For images and transcriptions of the relevant tablets, see L. GODART and J.-P. OLIVIER, Recueil des inscriptions en Linéaire A 1 (1976). For scribal-hand attributions, see L. GODART and J.-P. OLIVIER, Recueil des inscriptions en Linéaire A 5 (1985) 83-86. All Linear B words in this paper occur in VENTRIS and CHADWICK (supra n. 4) and have been checked against AURORA (supra n. 3). Regarding parallels 3 and 4, it was noticed long ago that several Linear A words ending in a-re have parallels to Linear B anthroponyms ending in a-ro: J.T. HOOKER, “Names in Linear A and Linear B,” Onomata 13 (1989-90) 128.

NAMES AND DESIGNATIONS OF PEOPLE IN LINEAR A

25

Parallels 4-5b might seem less plausible than parallels 1-3, in that parallels 4 and 5b both involve a difference in a non-final vowel, while parallels 5a and 5b both involve a Linear B word that is only potentially a male anthroponym. Nevertheless: it is interesting that parallels 4 and 5b both involve an alternation “LA < a > → LB < o >”.8 As potential evidence that such Linear A/B parallels differing in a non-final vowel actually do exist, parallels 1 and 2 display a particularly interesting example: “LA < u > → LB < a >”. This same alternation is attested in an additional parallel: LA ku-pa3-na-tu – which occurs on HT 47 together with ]kida-ro[, one of the words in Table 2 – vs. LB MN ka-pa3-na-to on KN As 1516. Given that the schwa [ə] is normally expressed as < a > in Linear B,9 this alternation can be accounted for simply by positing that pre-tonic /u/ in the language behind the Linear A words was pronounced as [ə]:10 Table 3: Accounting for the alternation “LA < u > → LB < a >” Linear A ku-pá3-n ku-pá3-na-t ku-ku-dá-r

Pronunciation kə-pá3-n kə-pá3-na-t ku-kə-dá-r

Linear B ka-pá3-n ka-pá3-na-t ku-ka-dá-r

Thus we believe that the three 1-lists on HT 117 can plausibly be interpreted as containing anthroponyms. Additional inter-tablet evidence appears to support this conclusion:11 Table 4: Additional inter-tablet evidence for the presence of anthroponyms on HT 117 LA tablet: Heading: Subheading: Entries:

HT 117 (Scribe 9) ma-ka-ri-te • ki-ro • qi-tu-ne • di-ki-se 1

LA tablet: Heading: Entries:

HT 117 (Scribe 9) ma-ka-ri-te • ki-ro • ku-pa3-nu 1

LA tablet: Heading: Entries:

HT 117 (Scribe 9) ma-ka-ri-te • ki-ro • ku-pa3-nu 1

HT 87 (Scribe 9) qi-tu-ne • ma-ka-ri-te • di-ki-se 1 ku-ru-ku 1 HT 88.4-6 (Scribe 7) ki-ro • ku-pa3-nu 1 pa-ja-re 1 HT 1 (Scribe 21) • ki-ro ku-pa3-nu 109 qe-ra2-u 197 a-ra-na-re 105

LB MN:

KN tablet:

ku-ru-ka

Vc 5510

ka-pa3-no pa-ja-ro

Df 1219 As 1519

ka-pa3-no qa-ra2-wo a-ra-na-ro

Df 1219 Ce 50 As 1516

Thus in each of these three cases, a word that appears on HT 117 recurs on another Linear A tablet together with one or more words that have parallels to Linear B anthroponyms. The following three observations are worth making here: - The words ma-ka-ri-te (from the heading of HT 117) and qi-tu-ne (from its third subheading) are combined to form the heading of HT 87 (qi-tu-ne / ma-ka-ri-te), with both of the 1-lists on these tablets containing di-ki-se. Thus if di-ki-se is indeed an anthroponym, qi-tu-ne and ma-ka-ri-te would seem very likely not to be anthroponyms.

8

9 10 11

In this paper, we follow the standard linguistic convention of marking phonemes with slashes (/a/), phones (spoken sounds) with square brackets ([a]), and written sounds with angle brackets (< a >). VENTRIS and CHADWICK (supra n. 4) 76. B. DAVIS, Minoan Stone Vessels with Linear A Inscriptions (2014) 242-243. Linear B ku-ru-ka in Table 4 is most likely a non-Greek name rather than Glukās: J. CHADWICK, “Mycenaean Wine and the Etymology of ΓΛΥΚΥΣ,” Minos 9 (1968) 195-196. Also in Table 4, Linear A ki-ro after the first entry on HT 1 is taken to apply to each entry in the list, in line with John’s “continuity principle”; a definition of this principle is available at people.ku.edu/~jyounger/LinearA/#18.

Brent DAVIS and Miguel VALÉRIO

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- It is interesting that all of the headings in Table 4 except the heading of HT 87 contain the word kiro, usually interpreted as meaning “deficit”, “owing” (vel sim.); thus in the context of these 1-lists ostensibly containing anthroponyms, might this word perhaps be interpreted as “missing”, “absent” (vel sim.)? In that case, these 1-lists could be viewed as representing attendance records (or rather, absence records) for some sort of function or duty – though of course, there are other possibilities as well. - Needless to say, HT 1 is not a 1-list: its entries are associated with large numbers (though significantly, all these numbers are integers). If the entries on this tablet are indeed anthroponyms, then the interpretation offered in observation (2) could apply here too: this tablet could record the cumulative absences of various people from some sort of function or duty, perhaps expressed here as a number of days over the course of an entire year – though again, there are other possibilities as well. We have seen that at least five words in HT 117 can plausibly be interpreted as anthroponyms, all probably male: ku-pa3-nu, te-ja-re, na-da-re, ku-ku-da-ra, ki-da-ro and di-ki-se. Given the clear-cut structure of the tablet’s text, it is most probable that the rest of entries are also names of persons, be they anthroponyms or other designations such as toponymic names, titles, and so on. In fact, we can make two further interesting observations regarding other words in HT 117: - The first entry, u-su, is also attested in Linear B tablet KN V 7512. The Linear B word is obscure,12 but is used in parallel with the toponymic name a-mi-ni-si-jo and hence is possibly a non-Greek anthroponym. - The long mi-ru-ta-ra-re (8th entry) is reminiscent of the Linear B male anthroponym da-i-ta-ra-ro, which is attested on tablet KN De 1231 and which lacks a Greek etymology. Could *-ta-ra-re have been a formant of compound Minoan personal names? In any case, mi-ru-ta-ra-re clearly features the ending in -a-re that characterizes other likely anthroponyms in this tablet and other Linear A documents, including the abovementioned a-ra-na-re, na-da-re, te-ja-re, and pa-ja-re. It is no doubt problematic simply to assume that all words found together with plausible anthroponyms in Linear A documents are also anthroponyms – but in the case of HT 117, we believe the assumption is warranted that all the words in its 1-lists are either anthroponyms, or other designations of people. Tablet HT 85: toponyms, anthroponyms, or something else? Tablet HT 85, which (like HT 117) was also written by HT Scribe 9, displays a very interesting pattern: Table 5: Linear A tablet HT 85 (HT Scribe 9) Side a:

12

a-du • *638 • VIR • da-ri-da 12 pa3-ni 12 u-*325-za 6 da-si-*118 24 ku-zu-ni 5 te-ke 3 da-re 4 ku-ro[ ]66

VENTRIS and CHADWICK (supra n. 4) 589.

Side b:

ki-ki-ra-ja • ki-re-ta2 qe-ka pa † te-tu[ ka † di † me-za re-di-se wa-du-ni-mi ma-di qa-*310-i

1 1 1 ]1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1

NAMES AND DESIGNATIONS OF PEOPLE IN LINEAR A

27

In this table, items marked with † are logograms subordinate to qe-ka and te-tu. Notice that on side (a), the first four numbers are all multiples of 6, while the sum of the next three numbers is 12 (two groups of 6), for a total (ku-ro) of 66 (11 groups of 6). Meanwhile, side (b) contains a 1-list with 11 entries. John Younger has tentatively interpreted the words on side (a) as toponyms designating the number of people contributed by each place, and the words in the 1-list on side (b) as anthroponyms, with each person assigned one or more groups of 6 people (two groups to qe-ka, three groups to te-tu, and one group to each of the other six people, for a total of 11 groups).13 The interpretation of the words on side (a) as toponyms is supported by Facchetti,14 who showed that these words appear in the same order across multiple tablets, a characteristic that we might very well expect of a standardized list of toponyms. We would like to suggest, however, an alternate interpretation for the words on both sides of this tablet. A thorough search through the Aghia Triada tablets reveals a larger pattern of ordered words than the one that Facchetti detected in 1996: it yields a series of 19 words that consistently appear in a fixed order (often with various other words interspersed between them) across no fewer than 14 tablet-faces. Following are those 19 words, in the order in which they consistently appear:15 Table 6: 19 words that consistently appear in a fixed order 1. da-ri-da 2. pa3-ni / pa3-ni-na 3. u-*325-za / u-de-za 4. da-si-*118 5. ku-zu-ni

6. te-ki / te-ke 7. da-re 8. te-tu 9. me-za 10. ra-ti-se / re-di-se

11. wa-du-nu-mi 12. ma-di 13. qa-*310-i 14. pa-de 15. *306-tu

16. *324-di-ra 17. ta-i-*123 18. a-ru 19. ku-pa3-nu

Notice that four of these words (2, 3, 6, and 10) occur in variant forms. We do not believe that these variations are grammatical in nature; instead, we believe they represent scribal variation, because Aghia Triada Scribe 9 alone is responsible for one of the variants in each of the four pairs, as Table 7 shows: Table 7: Idiosyncratic spellings of words 2, 3, 6, and 10 by HT Scribe 9 (in bold) Scribe HT Scribe 9

#2 pa3-ni

#3 u-*325-za / u-de-za

#6 te-ki / te-ke

# 10 re-di-se

All other scribes

pa3-ni-na

u-*325-za

te-ki

ra-ti-se

Notably, HT Scribe 9 is the only scribe to use both variants of any of these words. Thus all four pairs of variants can be accounted for simply by positing that HT Scribe 9 sometimes spelled these four words in idiosyncratic ways, whatever the reasons for these idiosyncratic spellings may have been.16 In particular, the variant re-di-se for ra-ti-se, which differs by two vowels and a consonant, suggests to us that Scribe 9 may simply have been less expert (or more careless) than the other scribes; thus in the case of pa3-ni, this scribe may simply have inadvertently omitted the final sign of pa3-ni-na.

13 14 15

16

YOUNGER (supra n. 5). G.M. FACCHETTI, “Comparable name-lists in Linear A,” Kadmos 35 (1996) 100-104. Interestingly, in Nakassis and Pluta’s multidimensional scaling “word matrix” (which displays closelyassociated Linear A words as clusters of labelled points), almost all of these 19 words are included in the three overlapping clusters at the bottom of the matrix: NAKASSIS and PLUTA (supra n. 4) Pl. LXVII. It is worth noting here that the variants of word 3 do not necessarily indicate that *325 and de are “at least isoconsonantal”, as Facchetti asserts: FACCHETTI (supra n. 14) 104. As the variants of “toponym” 10 illustrate, variants can exist without being uniformly isoconsonantal. Thus it is equally uncertain that *325 and me are isoconsonantal, based on the sequence a-sa-sa-ra-*325 on PO Zg 1 (for this inscription, see J.-P. OLIVIER, G. RÉTHÉMIOTAKIS and N. DIMOPOULOU, “Une statuette en argile MR IIIA de Poros/Irakliou avec inscription en linéaire A,” BCH 117 [1993] 501-521). The fact is, we do not yet have enough evidence to determine the phonetic value of *325 with any certainty.

28

Brent DAVIS and Miguel VALÉRIO

Table 8 lists the 14 tablet-faces on which any two or more of these 19 words appear, together with the order in which the words appear on each tablet-face: Table 8: 14 tablet-faces containing two or more of the words in Table 6 Tablet-face Words from the set of 19 1. HT 85a 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 2. HT 7 7 8 3. HT 85b 8 9 10 11 12 13 4. HT 122a 3 4 6 13 14 15 19 1 5. HT 9a 14 15 16 17 18 6. HT 49 18 19 7. HT 93 2 1 2 8. HT 122b 3† 7 9. HT 13* 4 5 6 8 10. HT 10a* 9 1 11. HT 6b* 2 10 11 12. PH(?) 31 12 19 13. HT 3 12 19 14. HT 9b 14 15 16 17 * (reading retrograde) † Word 3 on face 8 occurs in the sequence a-ra-ju-u-de-za, almost certainly to be read as two words.

3

7

12

Tablet-faces 1-6 (including both sides of HT 85) establish the sequence of the 19 words, while face 4 indicates that the sequence is cyclical, in that word 19 can be followed by word 1. Faces 7-14 all then conform to this same pattern. A correction on face 3 suggests that adhering to this order was important: word 10 and the beginning of word 11 were initially written after word 8, but were then erased and rewritten in their normal position after word 9.17 Remarkably, the fact that the results shown for faces 9-11 are obtained by reading the words on those faces in retrograde order shows that the 19-word sequence is bi-directional: its words can occur in the order given in Table 6, or in the opposite order, but in either case, the actual sequence of words remains consistent.18 These two characteristics of the sequence – cyclicality and bi-directionality – point very strongly to the conclusion that all 19 words refer to things that are arranged in some type of fixed spatial circuit. One might initially be tempted to suggest that these 19 words represent toponyms within the Cretan landscape – but there are some serious problems with this notion: first of all, none of these words is paralleled by a Linear B toponym, in the way that some Linear A words are paralleled by Linear B anthroponyms (e.g., see Table 2). Given the size of the corpus of Linear B texts from Knossos and its very frequent use of place-names, this is unexpected for a potential list of 19 Cretan toponyms – even if they all named small sites.

17 18

GODART and OLIVIER 1976 (supra n. 5) 133. In all, these 14 tablet-faces contain 58 instances of the words from the set of 19; Table 8 shows 55 of these, all occurring in the order shown in Table 6 (or its reverse). Of the three words from the set of 19 that occur outside that order on these 14 faces, two involve duplication and/or correction: (1) on face 4 (HT 122a), word 19 (ku-pa3-nu) occurs in its normal position, but also between words 14 and 15; and (2) on face 10 (HT 10a, reading retrograde), word 3 (u-*325-za) occurs in its normal position together with a numeral initially written as 14 but then corrected to 10, while a second instance of word 3 (together with the numeral 4) has then been squeezed into the narrow space between lines 1 and 2. The third and final word from the set of 19 that occurs outside the normal order on these 14 faces is word 16 (*324-di-ra) on face 4 (HT 122a), where it appears between words 13 and 14, making it the sole instance of a word from the set of 19 to occur outside the normal order on any of these 14 faces without also appearing in its normal position. Thus the consistency of the pattern shown in Table 8 is striking.

NAMES AND DESIGNATIONS OF PEOPLE IN LINEAR A

29

Meanwhile: words 12 (ma-di) and 19 (ku-pa3-nu) are paralleled by Linear B non-Greek anthroponyms at Knossos: ma-di (KN As 603, Db 1168) and ka-pa3-no (KN Df 1219). Likewise, word 11 (wa-du-ni-mi) compares well with four male anthroponyms found in Knossian Linear B tablets that also begin with wadu- or wa-du-n- and have no Greek etymology: wa-du-ka-sa-ro (KN Da 1445), wa-du-na (KN V 503, V 1523), wa-du-na-ro (KN C 912, Db 1242, Dc 1118+) and wa-du-[?]-to (KN As 1516). On other tablets, words from the set of 19 occur alongside sequences with parallels to Linear B nonGreek male anthroponyms at Knossos: for example, word 2 (pa3-ni-na) occurs with qa-qa-ru on HT 93 (cf. Linear B MN qa-qa-ro [KN As 604+606+5863]); word 7 (da-re) occurs with ta-na-ti and ka-sa-ru on HT 10b (cf. Linear B MNs ta-na-to [KN Dc 1618+7171+7174] and ka-sa-ro [KN C 912, Dv 1450]); word 13 (qa*310-i) occurs with pa-ja-re on HT 8 (cf. Linear B MN pa-ja-ro [KN As 1519]); word 15 (*306-tu) occurs with ku-pa3-na-tu on HT 119 (cf. Linear B MN ka-pa3-na-to [KN As 1516]); and so on. By contrast: of the 19 words, only word 12 (ma-di) ever appears alongside a sequence with a parallel to a Linear B toponym (pa-i-to, on HT 97) – but as mentioned in the preceding paragraph, Linear A ma-di is paralleled by a Linear B anthroponym, not a toponym. Thus some of the 19 words (e.g., 11, 12, and particularly 19) are likely anthroponyms. Some of the remaining words may be toponyms... but the complete absence of parallels to Linear B toponyms makes it very unlikely that all of them are. Some (or all) of the remaining words could just as well be designations of individuals or groups of people, such as occupational or institutional names or titles (in the fashion of Linear B ka-ke-we ‘copper- or bronze-smiths’, for example). There is actually some evidence to support this notion: in tablet HT 93, for example, words 1 and 2 co-occur with VIR-i, which is most likely a designation of a type of person. As another example, tablet HT 122 contains a set of entries which is partially a 1-list containing words 14, 15, 16, 19, and 1,19 as well as two sequences that end in -a-re and can therefore be suspected of being personal names, ja-mi-da-re and sida-re (cf. Linear B MNs ja-ma-ta-ro [KN V 655] and si-ta-ro [KN De 1138, X 7774]). Though the beginning of the tablet is damaged, there is no trace of a commodity logogram in this list; thus the implication is that these entries are anthroponyms or other designations of people, and that the list is essentially a count of people. Interestingly, this list also contains words 3, 4, 6, and 13 followed by numbers other than ‘1’: words 3 (u-de-za), 4 (da-si-*118) and 6 (te-ki) are each followed by ‘2’, while word 13 (qa*310-i) is followed by ‘3’. Thus these entries could be interpreted as ‘two u-de-za people’, ‘two da-si-*118 people’, ‘two te-ki people’ and ‘three qa-*310-i people’ – that is, these four words could be non-anthroponymic designations of groups of people: designations by function, by occupational group, by workshop, by administrative unit, or even by area- or building-name. Thus we are left with the conclusion that the set of 19 words is a mixed set, containing anthroponyms, other designations of people, and perhaps a few toponyms (though again, there is no actual evidence for this)... and yet, the fixed order of these words, together the cyclicality and bi-directionality of the list, still suggest that these entities are in some type of fixed spatial circuit. It is not hard to imagine a scenario that could account for this; for example, the 19-word set could simply reflect the names and designations of individuals, occupational groups, workshops, or other types of buildings or institutions, listed in order according to the physical locations of their activity-areas within or near the Aghia Triada settlement – that is, this list could be a list of 19 “entities” arranged in a circuit within or around Aghia Triada. Interestingly, there is perhaps a hint of this same notion in the findspots of the relevant tablets:20

19 20

Though with word 16 in an unusual position, and word 19 doubled (supra n. 18). Militello has reconstructed the findspots of the Aghia Triada tablets with the help of Halbherr’s notebook: P. MILITELLO, “A Notebook by Halbherr and the Findspots of the Ayia Triada Tablets,” Creta Antica 3 (2002) 111-120.

Brent DAVIS and Miguel VALÉRIO

30

Table 9: Distribution of words 1-19 in Aghia Triada tablets by findspot Word 1. da-ri-da 2. pa3-ni / pa3-ni-na 3. u-*325-za / u-de-za 4. da-si-*118 5. ku-zu-ni 6. te-ki / te-ke 7. da-re 8. te-tu 9. me-za 10. ra-ti-se / re-di-se 11. wa-du-ni-mi 12. ma-di 13. qa-*310-i 14. pa-de 15. *306-tu 16. *324-di-ra 17. ta-i-*123 18. a-ru 19. ku-pa3-nu

Villa (south) HT 10 HT 6 HT 10 HT 13 HT 13 HT 13 HT 7, 10 HT 7, 13 HT 10 HT 6 HT 6 HT 3, 69 HT 8 HT 9 HT 9 HT 9 HT 9, 39 HT 9, 49 HT 1, 3, 42?, 49

Casa del Lebete (north) HT 85, 93, 122 HT 85, 93, 102 HT 85, 122 HT 85, 99, 122 HT 85 HT 85, 122 HT 85, 122 HT 85 HT 85 HT 85 HT 85 HT 85, 97, 118 HT 85, 122 HT 122 HT 119, 122 HT 122 ----HT 88, 101?, 117, 122

Notice that HT 85, found in the northern part of the settlement, lists “entities” 1-13; while HT 9, found in the southern part, lists “entities” 14-18, with 17 and 18 occurring only on tablets from the southern part.21 Might this list perhaps reflect a progression from the northern to the southern part of the settlement? If so, then word 19 (ku-pa3-nu, a probable anthroponym, as discussed earlier) may represent an entity who was markedly involved in both parts of the settlement—though in view of the thinness of this evidence derived from findspots, we want to avoid speculating much further about the actual location of this circuit of “entities”. In any case, this discussion has led to our tentative re-interpretation of HT 85: generally speaking, we think it might very well record the movement of 66 people from the first part of this circuit (“entities” 1-7) to the next part (“entities” 8–13, as well as ki-re-ta2 and qe-ka; see Table 5). Conclusion Over the past decade and more, John has been a crucial friend and mentor to us both; his mind and his guidance have helped shape the way in which we both approach the study of Linear A. In this paper, which we gratefully dedicate to him, we have sought to identify the nature of some Linear A words based on contextual clues, with a focus on the ways in which multiple words associate with each other across multiple tablets. Based on these contextual clues, we have suggested HT 117 (and several other tablets) as containing probable anthroponyms, and HT 85 (and several other tablets) as containing mixtures of anthroponyms and other designations of people and/or groups, all with the purpose of recording numbers of people. At the same time, we have been able to offer plausible interpretations of these two tablets and what they might actually be recording.

21

It is also interesting that the words qe-pu and di-na-u are associated with words 15-17 on both sides of HT 9: on HT 9a, the sequence is “word 15 / di-na-u / qe-pu / word 16 / word 17”, while on HT 9b, the sequence is “word 15 / word 16 / qe-pu / word 17 / di-na-u”. The implication is that these words may be referring to five “entities” that are quite close to each other in the circuit.

NAMES AND DESIGNATIONS OF PEOPLE IN LINEAR A

31

Linear A is never an easy creature to tackle; and indeed, Linear A tablets themselves are notoriously resistant to convincing interpretation. But in the work presented here, we hope we have managed, in honor of John, to tease out at least a few new threads from their fabric. Brent DAVIS Miguel VALÉRIO

MYCENAEAN ka-ma-e-u AND SUMERIAN engar One of the categories of land attested in the Linear B texts from Pylos was called ka-ma.1 The word is of unknown etymology, and possibly of Minoan origin.2 Unlike the other categories of land, possession of ka-ma was conditional, being characterized by the so-called “formula of obligation”. This indicates whether the ka-ma holders perform or do not perform certain duties: “holds and works” (e-ke-qe wo-ze-qe), “has to serve with two/twice, but serves with one/once” (o-pe-ro du-wo-pi te-re-ja-e e-me-de te-re-ja), “has to serve with two/twice, but does not work” (o-pe-ro du-wo-pi te-re-ja-e o-u-qe wo-ze). Outside the ka-ma lands this formula is found only once, in connection with the land (ko-to-na) of Ka-pa-ti-ja the key-bearer (Eb 338, Ep 704), who “has to work with two/twice, (but) does not work” (o-pe-ro-sa du-wo-pi wo-ze-e o-u-wo-ze). Ka-ma lands are attested at three villages: Pa-ki-ja-na whose complete land-survey is preserved in five sets of tablets (Eb, Ed, En, Eo, Ep), at Sa-ra-pe-da (Er series and Un 718), and at unidentified village survived in the Ea series. At Pa-ki-ja-na ka-ma land was regarded a part of the so-called ke-ke-me-na ko-to-na, which is usually interpreted as the “communal land”, since it probably belonged to the “people” (da-mo).3 There were three kinds of this category of land: ka-ma proper, ka-ma o-na-to, and o-na-to pa-ro ka-ma-e-we. The word o-na-to means probably “land as profit” or “plot of maintenance” being derived from the verb ὀνίνημι – “to be profitable”.4 The exact meaning of the construction with the preposition pa-ro is disputed; it means either “from” or “at”.5 Holders of the first two kinds of land were called ka-ma-e-u (plural ka-ma-e-we), while several “slaves” (te-o-jo do-e-ra – “slave-girl of god” and i-je-re-ja do-e-ro – “slave of the priestess”) held plots of the third kind attached to the lands of ka-ma-e-we. ka-ma GRA o-na-to paro ka-ma-e-we Ko-tu-ro2 mi-ka-ta pa-de-we-u 0.5.0 [ ] do-e-ro Ne-qe-u e-da-e-u 10.1.0 Pa-ra-ko ko-to-no-o-ko 1.0.0 Po-so-re-ja te-o-jo do-e-ra [Po-to]-re-ma-ta Me-re-u i-je-re-ja do-e-ro Su-ko te-re-ta po-ro-du-ma 10.[ ] [ ]-re-u a-si-to-po-qo 1.2.[ ] [ ] Po-so-re-ja te-o-jo do-e-ra [ ] 1.0.0 Total: 8 23.8.0+ Total: 4 ka-ma o-na-to E-u-ru-wo-ta te-o-jo do-e-ro Ko-i-ro ka-ma-e-u Pe-re-qo-ta pa-de-we-u Sa-sa-wo ka-ma-e-u [ ]-ke-re-u i-je-ro-wo-ko ka-ma-e-u Total: 5 Table 1. ka-ma at Pa-ki-ja-na 1

2 3

4

5

GRA 0.2.0 0.1.3 [ ]2

[

]

0.3.5+ GRA 1.3.0 0.3.0 1.0.0 1.5.0 1.0.0 5.1.0

PY An 261, 616; Ea 29, 309; Eb 149, 152, 156, 159, 173, 177, 495, 839, 842, 862, 1347; Ed 236, 411; Ep 549, 613; Un 718. Hesychius, s.v. καμάν. τὸν ἄγρον. Κρῆτες – “kama: the field, Cretan (word)”. See E.L. BENNETT, “The Landholders of Pylos,” AJA 60 (1956) 103-133. For alternative interpretations see Y. DUHOUX, Aspects du vocabulaire économique mycénien (1976) 7-27; G. DUNKEL, “Mycenaean ke-keme-na, ki-ti-me-na,” Minos 17 (1981) 18-29; M. CARPENTER, “Ki-ti-me-na and ke-ke-me-na at Pylos,” Minos 18 (1983) 81-88. See M. LEJEUNE, “Sur quelques termes du vocabulaire économique mycénien,” Mémoires de philologie mycénienne 2 (1971) 287-312. See F.W. HOUSEHOLDER, “pa-ro and Mycenaean Cases,” Glotta 38 (1959) 5-6; A. UCHITEL, “LandTenure in Mycenaean Greece and the Hittite Empire: Linear B Land-Surveys from Pylos and Middle Hittite Land-Donations,” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 48 (2005) 473-486.

Alexander UCHITEL

34

The information about holders of all three kinds of ka-ma is summarized in table 1, where holders of o-na-to pa-ro ka-ma-e-we are found in the right-hand side, being attached to those ka-ma-e-we “at/from” whom they held their plots. Land is measured in the Mycenaean dry capacity measures (GRA) referring to the quantity of seed needed. As we can see from this presentation, ka-ma proper occupied 81.5% of all lands of this category, while ka-ma o-na-to occupied 17.5%, and o-na-to pa-ro ka-ma-e-we – less than 1%. Outside the land survey of Pa-ki-ja-na ten ka-ma-e-we are also mentioned in the so-called ke-ro-si-ja tablets An 261 and An 616.6 These texts record a century – a group of one hundred men, ten of them kama-e-we, and the rest are organized in four work teams called ke-ro-si-ja. This word probably corresponds to the Greek γερονσία, derived from the title γέρων –“elder”. Heads of teams Named supervisors

O-two-we-o A3-nu-me-no Qo-te-ro A2-e-ta O-du-*56-ro

Unnamed workers totals ka-ma-e-we total

13 18

Ta-we-si-jo Wa-[ ] [ ] [ ]-wa-ne-u Te-wa-[ ] Tu-ru-we-u 20 26

A-pi-jo-to Ku-te-re-u O-wo-to A-ra-i-jo Ri-zo 18 23

A-pi-qo-ta A3-so-ni-jo A-[ ]-te A-[ ] [ ]-ka-[ ] O-pa-[ ] 17 23

10 100 Table 2. ke-ro-si-ja tablets

These work teams had three levels of hierarchy: four heads of the teams, 18 named supervisors, and 68 unnamed workers. Their structure is shown in table 2. Since ka-ma-e-we are found outside the work teams, it seems that they were responsible for plots of land under direct control of the palatial administration and cultivated by the personnel of the ke-ro-si-ja work teams. Bearing in mind that the size of ka-ma was frequently GRA 10 (not only at Pa-ki-ja-na, but also in the Ea 309), we may assume that each plot was cultivated by a decury, including one ka-ma-e-u. The rotation of work teams engaged in the cultivation of public land is probably reflected in pair of texts Aq 64 and Aq 218, dealing, as shown by Melena,7 with distribution of fodder (represented by the ideogram *171, probably cyperus) for some animals (represented by the abbreviation ZE – “pair”, probably oxen). These two tablets constitute a single document, which is subdivided into four sections by the following headings: (1) [qa-si]-re-wi-jo-te – “those holding the office of qa-si-re-u (βασιλεύς)” (2) o-da-a2 ko-to-na e-ko-te – “those having ko-to-na” (3) o-da-a2 a-na-ke-e o-pe-ro-te – “those owing to lead up (men)” (4) o-da-a2 e-ke-jo-to a-ko-to-no – “those left without ko-to-na” Headings (1) and (3) refer to those who were in charge of men, since qa-si-re-u in Mycenaean Greek, unlike the later βασιλεύς, was a supervisor of a work team called qa-si-re-wi-ja (KN As 1517). Headings (2) and (4) deal with rights or obligations in regard of land (“those with and without ko-to-na”). On the other hand, headings (1) and (2) have a positive meaning, while headings (3) and (4) are negative, since the verb o-pe-ro in Linear B indicates the failure to fulfil certain obligations.8 The ideogram for fodder (*171) appears in sections (1) and (2), while men (VIR) only are counted in section (3), and pairs of animals (ZE) are counted in sections (1), (2), and (4). Since Ne-qe-u, one of the ka-ma-e-we of Pa-ki-ja-na, appears also in 6

7 8

Beside the word ka-ma-e-we these two tablets are also associated with E series by the scribal hands: the obverse of An 261 is written by scribe No. 43, who wrote also the tablets of the Es series; the reverse of An 261 and An 616 are written by scribe No. 1 responsible also for the sets Ed, En, and Ep. J.L. MELENA, “Ku-pa-ro en las tablilas de Cnoso,” Emerita 42 (1974) 332-333. M. LEJEUNE, “'Présents’ et ‘absents’ dans les inventaires mycéniens,” Mémoires de philologie mycénienne 2 (1971) 227-239.

MYCENAEAN ka-ma-e-u AND SUMERIAN engar

35

section (2) of this text, as one of those “having ko-to-na”, it can be assumed with some confidence that “those with and without ko-to-na” of Aq 64 and Aq 218 were in fact ka-ma-e-we on and off duty, while those in charge of men in this text are supervisors of work teams. The structure of this pair of texts is shown in table 3.

On duty Off duty

Responsible for men Responsible for land [qa-si]-re-wi-jo-te ko-to-na e-ko-te 7 men, ZE 5, *171 24 4 men, ZE 4, *171 6[+] a-na-ke-e o-pe-ro-te e-ke-jo-to a-ko-to-no 5 men 7 men, ZE 7 Table 3. PY Aq 64 and Aq 218

By their prosopography, Aq 64 and Aq 218 are closely associated with the so-called o-ka tablets (An 519, 614, 656, 657, 661), whose structure is very similar to that of the abovementioned ke-ro-si-ja tablets. Each of the ten teams called o-ka has three levels of hierarchy: named leader of the team, several named supervisors (termed in the heading e-pi-ko-wo – “overseers”), and 800 unnamed workers. Some of the teams are accompanied by a “follower” introduced by a phrase me-ta-qe pe-i e-qe-ta - “and with/among them the follower”. Since in a list of “absent rowers” (e-re-ta a-pe-o-te in An 724) one of the reasons for their absence is specified as “and the followers have ka-ma” (e-ko-si-qe e-qe-ta ka-ma), it is possible that the “followers” of this group of texts occupy the same position as the ka-ma-e-we in the ke-ro-si-ja tablets.9 All the evidence presented so far strongly suggests that the land characterized by the “formula of obligation” was public land under the direct control of the palatial administration and cultivated by various work teams (ke-ro-si-ja, qa-si-re-wi-ja, o-ka) through the system of compulsory labor service. Ka-ma was regarded as a part of the ke-ke-me-na ko-to-na, but unlike other lands of this category, it was characterized by the hierarchical structure, since maintenance plots of ka-ma-e-we themselves (ka-ma o-na-to) and plots of members of the dependent personnel (o-na-to pa-ro ka-ma-e-we) were attached to large tracts of ka-ma lands in the proper sense. The variant of the “formula of obligation”, found in connection with the ka-ma o-na-to confirms this reconstruction: o-na-to e-ke ka-ma-e-u e-pi-qe to-e/to-me te-ra-pi-ke – “ka-ma-e-u has a plot of land … and for it he serves”10 (Eb 842/Ep 613.8). There is yet another indication that ka-ma, in contrast to the other types of land, was not a family household. The wo-ro-ki-jo-ne-jo ka-ma in Un 718, denoting a donor of a tribute (do-so-mo) to Poseidon, corresponds in a land register Er 312 to wo-ro-ki-jo-ne-jo e-re-mo. The last word hardly can be anything other than the Greek ἐρῆμος – “empty”. It cannot be the wasteland, however, since it contributes to Poseidon wheat, wine, cheese, and honey. In this case, the word e-re-mo could be an indication that this land is situated outside the territory of the village and is uninhabited, as opposed to fields of private households. The proposed reconstruction corresponds almost exactly to the land tenure system, which existed in ancient Mesopotamia during the third millennium B.C. Lands of Sumerian temples were of three categories: (1) land directly administered by the temple, (2) allotment plots, and (3) rented land. The terminological changes, which affected all three categories of land during the period under consideration, are shown in table 4. Land of the first category probably corresponded to the Mycenaean ka-ma, and allotment plots corresponded to the Mycenaean o-na-to.

9

10

For this interpretation of the o-ka tablets see A. UCHITEL, “On the ‘Military’ Interpretation of the o-ka Tablets,” Kadmos 23 (1984) 136-163 and G. MARIOTTA, Struttura politica e fisco nello “stato” miceneo. Aspetti e problemi della storia greca delle origini (2003) 137-145. This translation is possible only if the verb te-ra-pi-ke is to be identified as the iterative form of the Greek θεραπεύω – “to serve”.

Alexander UCHITEL

36 Period Archaic Ur Pre-Sargonic Lagash Ur III

Land directly administered by the temple ganá-en (ganá)-níg-en-na ganá-gu4 Table 4. Sumerian land tenue

Allotment plots ganá-šuku ganá-šuku ganá-šuku

Rented land ganá-apin ganá-apin-lá ganá-níg-gál-la

The Ur III period is, of course, the best documented. The composition of temple personnel during this age can be studied from G. Pettinato (BM 12232).11 This records the personnel of the temple of goddess Nindara, which consisted of 291 men subdivided into four groups: (1) temple management staff called ab-ba-ab-ba – “elders”, and three groups of their subordinates with their own hierarchy each: (2) nubandà-gu4 – “supervisors of oxen”, (3) sag-apin – “chief ploughmen”, (4) šà-gu4 – “ox-drivers”. Unskilled agricultural workers called erín were present in all three groups and formed the majority of temple’s personnel. The first group consisted of the temple steward (sanga), his son (dumu-sanga), seven steward’s “gendarmes” (agà-uš-sanga) under their “captain” (šá-ra-ab-du), an accountant (šax-dub-ba), a land surveyor (sa12-du5), a village mayor (ab-ba-uru), “deputies” (šeš-tab-ba) of the last four officials, a granary-keeper (kagur7), and a “scribe of ploughing oxen” (dub-sar-gu4-apin). A head of the second group was a “scribe of 10 oxen” (dub-sar-10-gu4) in charge of 4 “supervisors of oxen” (nu-bandà-gu4) and their 7 “deputies” (šeš-tab-ba). The third group consisted of 20 men responsible for the cultivation of individual plots of land called engar and their six assistants of two kinds: four dumu-da-ba - holders of seed-basket, and two dumu-gu4-gur who stood beside the oxen and oversaw their rotation.12 A head of the fourth group was called nu-bandà, and his subordinates were divided into several work-teams, each under its own supervisor (ugula). The composition of only one such team has survived in the text discussed, and it included 20 ox-drivers (šà-gu4) and 40 erín. The overall structure of this temple household is shown in the following chart. 19 ab-ba-ab-ba

1 dub-sar-gu4-10

20 engar

1 nu-bandà

4 nu-bandà-gu4

1 ugula 4 dumu-da-ba

2 dumu-gu4-gar

7 šeš-tab-ba 20 šà-gu4

40 erín

As can be seen from this representation, oxen, land, and men were managed separately through three different branches of the temple administration. However, during the cultivation of any given field, small teams of men and oxen were assigned to a small plot of land (ganá) under the responsibility of an individual engar. Such arrangement in cultivation of two fields (PI.LI.ḪA and A-ka-saḫar)13 can be seen, for example, in the following text (see also table 5).

11

12

13

G. PETTINATO, Materiali per il vocabolario neosumerico 17: Testi economici neo-sumerici del British Museum (BM 12230-BM 12390) (1993) No. 3. For this interpretation see K. MAEKAWA, “The Agricultural Texts of Ur III Lagash of the British Museum (VIII),” Acta Sumerologica 14 (1992) 207-208. Parallel texts dealing with the cultivation of these two fields are G.A. BARTON, Harvard Library Collection of Cuneiform Tablets or Documents from Temple Archives of Telloh 3 (1914) 386, Cuneiform Texts from Babylonian Tablets in the British Museum 7 (1899) 45 (BM 17766), PETTINATO (supra n. 11) 6.368, 369.

MYCENAEAN ka-ma-e-u AND SUMERIAN engar

37

BM 15406 (see PL. VIIIb-c) Obv. 1. 3 gu4-[numun 10 lá-1 erín] 2. a-šà PI.LI.[ḪA] 3. ganá Ur-ša6-ga 4. 1 gu4-numun 2 guruš-ḫun-gá al-10-sar-[ta] 5. a-šà A-ka-saḫar 6. ganá Lugal-sipa 7. 4 gu4-šudul 10 lá-1 erín 2 guruš-ḫun-gá 8. ugula Ur-dNu-muš-da 9. 1 gu4-numun 3 ḫ[é]-dab5 1 guruš-ḫun-gá-ú-ku5 10. a-šà PI.LI.ḪA 11. ganá Ur-mes Rev. 1. 2 erín-al 2 gu4-numun 12 ḫé-[dab5]-ú-ku5 2. a-šà A-ka-saḫar 3. ganá Ùr-ri-ba-du7 4. 3 gu4-uru4 15 ḫé-dab5 2 erín 1 guruš-ḫun-gá 5. ugula Ur-dBa-ú “3 oxen [for sowing, 9 workers], field PI.LI.ḪA, plot (of) Urshaga. 1 ox for sowing, 2 hired men (doing) 10 sar per spade, field Akasaḫar, plot (of) Lugalsipa. (Total:) 4 yoked oxen, 9 workers, 2 hired men, supervisor Ur-Numushda. 1 ox for sowing, 3 conscripts, 1 hired man cutting grass, field PI.LI.ḪA, plot (of) Urmes. 2 oxen for sowing, 12 conscripts cutting grass, 2 workers (with) spades, field Akasaḫar, plot (of) Urribadu. (Total:) 3 ploughing oxen, 15 conscripts, 2 workers, 1 hired man, supervisor Ur-Bau.” supervisor field a-šà PI.LI.ḪA ganá Ur-ša6-ga ganá Ur-mes

ugula Ur-dNu-muš-da oxen men 3 gu4-numun

a-šà A-ka-saḫar ganá Lugal-sipa ganá Ùr-ri-ba-du7

1 gu4-numun

total

4 gu4-šudul

oxen

ugula Ur-dBa-ú men

9 erín 1 gu4-numun

3 ḫé-dab5 1 guruš-ḫun-gá-ú-ku5

2 gu4-numun

12 ḫé-[dab5]-ú-ku5 2 erín-al

2 guruš-ḫun-gá

11 3 gu4-uru4 Table 5. BM 15406

18

Supervisors of oxen (nu-nandà-gu4) are not mentioned in this text, but they appear in other similar documents, for example, in the following text dealing with the cultivation of another field (En-nu-lumma).14

14

Parallel texts are Cuneiform Texts from Babylonian Tablets in the British Museum 7 (1899) 22 (BM 13163) and M. MOLINA, Materiali per il vocabolario neosumerico 22: Testi amministrativi neosumerici del British Museum BM 13601-14300 (2003) 25.

Alexander UCHITEL

38

BM 13110 (see Pl. VIIIa) Obv. 1. 1 gu4-numun gán-ba 2. 1 gu4-numun Ka5-a 3. 1 gu4-numun dNin-marki-ka 4. 1 gu4-numun Lugal-dumu-gi7 5. ganá Lú-giri17-zal 6. 1 gu4-numun gán-ba 7. 12 guruš-ḫun-gá-sanga 8. A-kal-la šeš-gal 9. ganá Ur-dNin-giš-zi-da Rev. 1. a-šà En-nu-lum-ma 2. u4 6-kam iti Ezen-dBa-ú “1 purchased ox for sowing, 1 ox for sowing (of) Kaa, 1 ox for sowing (of) Ninmarka, 1 ox for sowing (of) Lugaldumugi, plot (of) Lugirizal. 1 purchased ox for sowing, 12 hired men (of) temple steward, Akalla šeš-gal (“big brother”), plot (of) Ur-Ningishzida, field Ennulumma. Sixth day (of) eighth month.” plot supervisor Ka5-a dNin-marki-ka Lugal-dumu-gi7 A-kal-la šeš-gal total

ganá Lú-giri17-zal oxen 1 gu4-numun gán-ba 1 gu4-numun 1 gu4-numun 1 gu4-numun 4

ganá Ur-dNin-giš-zi-da oxen men 1 gu4-numun gán-ba

1 Table 6. BM 13110

12 guruš-ḫun-gá-sanga 12

Sumerian temples cultivated lands under their direct administration through the system of the compulsory labor service. The conscripts’ term of service was called bala – “turn”. Work teams assigned to some specific task were called bala-gub-ba – “turn of the stationed”, and those off duty were called bala-tuš-a – “turn of the seated”. As Kazuya Maekawa has shown, these two kinds of work teams alternate with each other in ration lists.15 If there was a need for additional manpower, those off duty could be hired by the state, in this case being called lú-ḫun-gá, and they received wages (á) instead of food rations (ba). It is rather obvious from the above that the position of the Mycenaean ka-ma-e-u in the Pylian ke-rosi-ja tablets, of e-qe-ta of the o-ka tablets, and of those responsible for land (ko-to-na e-ko-te and e-ke-jo-te a-ko-tono) in Aq 64 and Aq 218 corresponded to the Sumerian engar. Mycenaean work teams with several levels of hierarchy (ke-ro-si-ja and o-ka) correspond to Sumerian work reams of erín and other groups of conscripts.16 The alternation of those on and off duty in the Pylian documents Aq 64 abd Aq 218 (see table 3) and those who “serves/works” and “does not serve/work” in the Pylian land registers correspond to the Sumerian rotation of bala-gub-ba and bala-tuš-a work teams. However, differences between Sumerian and Mycenaean documents should not be overlooked. No correspondence for the separate administrative branch responsible for ploughing oxen is found in Mycenaean Linear B documents. Palaces, not temples, as in ancient Sumer, controlled the manpower of conscripts employed in the cultivation of the public land in Mycenaean Greece.

15

16

K. MAEKAWA, “New texts on the Collective Labour Service of the Erín-People of Ur III Girsu,” Acta Sumerologica 10 (1988) 64. For comparison between the o-ka personnel and erín see UCHITEL (supra n. 9) 136-163.

MYCENAEAN ka-ma-e-u AND SUMERIAN engar

39

Any possibility of a mutual influence between ancient Mesopotamia and Mycenaean Greece should be ruled out. Little short of one millennium separates two groups of texts, which constituted the subject of this comparative study. Most probably, the existence of the compulsory labor system in both societies should be held responsible for all three sets of correspondences (land-tenure, organization of manpower, and rotation of work teams). This system is attested in an agricultural context from the end of the fourth millennium B.C. to the end of the third millennium B.C. in ancient Mesopotamia (from Uruk IV to Ur III), and from the 17th century B.C. (Minoan Linear A) to the 13th century B.C. (Mycenaean Linear B) in ancient Greece. It disintegrated in ancient Mesopotamia after the downfall of the third dynasty of Ur, and in ancient Greece after the downfall of the Mycenaean civilization. Alexander UCHITEL

40

Alexander UCHITEL LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Pl. VIIIa Pl. VIIIb Pl. VIIIc

BM 13110 (permission courtesy of the Trustees of the British Museum) BM 15406, Obverse (permission courtesy of the Trustees of the British Museum) BM 15406, Reverse (permission courtesy of the Trustees of the British Museum)

VIII

a

b

c

B. WRITING AND ADMINISTRATION

THE DEVELOPMENT OF WRITING ON CRETE IN EM III-MM IIB (ca 2200-1750/00 B.C.) The Evolutionary Background of Linear A and Cretan Hieroglyphic Writing and in particular inscribed “gemstones” played a major role in A. Evans’ identification of Crete as the home of a prehistoric European civilization already before the start of his excavations at Knossos.1 Evans’ reconstruction of the development of writing in three consecutive stages, a pictorial (on sealstones), a hieroglyphic (on clay bars) and a linear stage (on tablets) is clearly influenced by I. Taylor’s evolutionary scheme.2 Evans did not consider pictography to be real writing, i.e. the phonetic rendering of language, as it occurred among the more primitive races of mankind, in what he calls the “Red Indian stage of culture”.3 It is clear that the distinction between phonetic and non-phonetic writing carried a value judgement. His reconstruction of three stages of Cretan writing has long since been proven incorrect in several respects: his pictorial (Hieroglyphic A) and hieroglyphic (Hieroglyphic B) stages have been demonstrated to be one and the same script, now called Cretan Hieroglyphic, and his linear script to represent two chronologically different scripts (Linear A and Linear B) rather than two contemporary variations of the same script.4 Although great advances have since been made in the study of Cretan scripts, Cretan Hieroglyphic and Linear A still bear the traces of Evans’ evolutionary framework. This manifests itself in the belief that the scripts are genealogically connected, which is reflected in the use of terms such as “off-shoot”, “descendant”, “branches”, “co-evolved”.5 This genealogical metaphor can be seen in Evans’ assumption that Cretan Hieroglyphic was very probably the earliest of the three systems, from which Linear A and Linear B descended. The Archanes Script is seen as a common ancestor to Linear A or Cretan Hieroglyphic or as a direct predecessor of either one or the other.6 The latter view, however, implies earlier script on the basis of a later one and tries to interpret monogenetic evolution, which is methodologically questionable.7 The genealogical metaphor of monogenetic evolution would imply that the Archanes Script represents the same type (syllabic) of script as Linear A and Cretan Hieroglyphic, which is not necessarily the case (see infra).8 Rather than a teleological scenario envisaging the direct 1

2 3

4

5

6

7

8

See I. SCHOEP, “Arthur Evans and the Construction of Minoan Civilization,” AJA (2018) 5-32 and R.P.-J.E. DECORTE, “The First “European Writing”: Redefining the Archanes Script,” OJA 337/4 (2018) 341-372. I. TAYLOR, The Alphabet: An Account of the Origin and Development of Letters I (1883). A.J. EVANS, “Primitive Pictographs and a Prae-Phoenician Script from Crete and the Peloponnese,” JHS 14 (1894) 270-372; A.J. EVANS, Scripta Minoa: The Written Documents of Minoan Crete with Special Reference to the Archives of Knossos, 1: The Hieroglyphic and Primitive Linear Classes (1909). M. POPE, The Story of Decipherment. From Egyptian Hieroglyphs to Maya Script (1999) 146-158; J. BENNET, “Now You See It, Now You Don’t! The Disappearance of the Linear A Script on Crete,” in J. BAINES, J. BENNET and S. HOUSTON (eds),The Disappearance of Writing Systems. Perspectives on Literacy and Communication (2008) 5. S. HOUSTON, “Writing in early Mesoamerica”, in S. HOUSTON (ed.), The First Writing. Script Invention as History and Process (2004) 279. L. GODART, “L’écriture d’Archanès: hiéroglyphique ou Linéaire A?,” in P. BETANCOURT, V. KARAGEORGHIS, R. LAFFINEUR and W.-D. NIEMEIER (eds), MELETEMATA. Studies in Aegean Archaeology Presented to M.H. Wiener as He Enters his 65th year (1999) 299-302; J.-P. OLIVIER and L. GODART, Corpus Hieroglyphicarum Inscriptionum Cretae (1996) 31; I. SCHOEP, “The Origins of Writing and Administration,” OJA 18/3 (1999) 265-276. P.M. STEELE and T. MEISSNER, “From Linear B to Linear A,” in STEELE (ed.), Understanding Relations between Scripts. The Aegean Writing Systems (2017) 94. SCHOEP (supra n. 6). See R.P-J. E. DECORTE, “The Origins of Bronze Age Aegean Writing: Linear A, Cretan Hieroglyphic and A New Proposed Pathway of Script Formation,” in S. FERRARA and M.

Ilse SCHOEP

44

development of the Archanes Script into either Linear A or Cretan Hieroglyphic, other scenarios are possible. Not all early writing may have developed into a full script. Also, knowledge of earlier writing may have given impulse to the invention of a new script, without the former necessarily being the direct predecessor of the latter. The use of genealogical metaphors is thus rather unhelpful as languages do not behave as biological organisms with fixed packages of DNA but are instead contingent on historical circumstances.9 Another evolutionist influence is the narrow definition of writing as the phonetic rendering of language. As a result, the Archanes Script but also Cretan Hieroglyphic signs on sealstones were long rejected as writing. 10 Until a couple of decades ago, Cretan Hieroglyphic signs on sealstones were dismissed as “ornamental” and not real writing. 11 The view was that any serious study of Cretan Hieroglyphic should start from the “real inscriptions, that means the archival inscriptions”, and only those signs that were also written on “archival” documents were accepted to form part of the Cretan Hieroglyphic syllabary.12 This led to the omission of a high number of signs that occur on sealstones from the Corpus of Cretan Hieroglyphic Inscriptions (henceforth CHIC). 13 Such omission obviously compromises comparative studies of Cretan Hieroglyphic with other scripts, which, as I will argue later, is important to shed light on the development of writing on Crete. Such glottographic bias has been criticized in the last two decades and a wider definition of writing as “the communication of relatively specific ideas in a conventional manner by means of permanent, visible marks” was proposed. 14 The latter definition embraces non-phonetic graphic systems of writing, such as, for example, pictography and semasiography.15 Writing as Process B. Trigger’s comparative study of early writing systems made clear that no early writing system was the full system it eventually became and that each was only able to fully express language after centuries of development.16 Research into the earliest attestations of writing in Mesopotamia, Mesoamerica and Egypt suggests that the notation of language was not the principal aim of the earliest writing systems and that no early writing system was invented to mimic spoken language.17 In Egypt, The U-j writing extends back in time Egyptian writing by more than a century to ca 3200 B.C. and served limited purposes. The inscribed

9 10

11

12

13

14

15 16

17

VALERIO (eds), Paths Into Script Formation in the Ancient Mediterranean (2018) 13-50 for pointing out this problem. S. HOUSTON, “Overture to The First Writing,” in HOUSTON ed. (supra n. 5) 5. J.-P. OLIVIER, “Cretan Writing in the Second Millennium B.C,” World Archaeology 17/3 (1986) 377-389; O. KRZYSZKOWSKA, Aegean Seals. An Introduction (2005) 71, 146, note 8. For a recent revaluation of the Archanes Script see DECORTE (supra n. 1 and 8). For references see R.P.-J.E. DECORTE, “Cretan ‘Hieroglyphic’ and the nature of script,” in STEELE ed. (supra n. 7) 34-38. J.-P. OLIVIER, “The Possible Methods in Deciphering the Pictographic Cretan script,” in Y. DUHOUX, T.G. PALAIMA and J. BENNET (eds), Problems in Decipherment (1989) 43-44. This was already pointed out by J. Younger in 1996-1997 (J. YOUNGER, “The Cretan Hieroglyphic Script: A Review Article,” Minos 31 [1996-1997 [1999] 379-400). See also A.M. JASINK, Cretan Hieroglyphic Seals: A New Classification of Symbols and Ornamental/Filling Motifs (2009), O. KRZYSZKOWSKA, “ Why were cats different? Script and imagery in Middle Minoan II glyptic,” in C.F. MACDONALD, E. HATZAKI and S. ANDREOU (eds), The Great Islands Studies of Crete and Cyprus presented to Gerald Cadogan (2015) 100-106 and DECORTE (supra n. 11) 27-28 for further references. E. HILL BOONE, “Introduction: Writing and recording Knowledge,” in E. HILL BOONE and W.D. MIGNOLO (eds), Writing without Words: Alternative Literacies in Mesoamerica and the Andes (1994). E. HILL BOONE, “Beyond Writing,” in HOUSTON ed. (supra n. 5) 313-348. B. TRIGGER, “Writing Systems: a Case study in Cultural evolution,” in HOUSTON ed. (supra n. 5) 3970. J.S. COOPER, “Babylonian Beginning: the origin of the cuneiform writing system in comparative perspective”, in HOUSTON ed. (supra n. 5) 83.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF WRITING ON CRETE IN EM III-MM IIB

45

bone tags and painted jars from Tomb U-j at Abydos contain hieroglyphic signs that represent armed human figures, mammals, a bucranium, birds, reptiles, fish plants, geographical features and temporal concepts such as night.18 The inventors of this script created a complex means of representing the Egyptian language through a limited range of lexemes that probably notate names of some kind, such as, for example, royal estate names, rather than a representation of concepts in a pictographic form.19 Only later, when the number of signs proliferated greatly, the range of issues covered by writing also increased.20 Instead of being invented at a single moment (cf. “literatus Symericus Urukeus”),21 writing can be considered as a sequence of step-like inventions, not in a gradualistic and unievolutionary model à la Gelb but as rapid bursts followed by subsequent modifications that extend over long periods of time.22 The earliest examples of most primary scripts display under-grammaticalization and phonetic opacity, and the earliest writing of a number of traditions first use a system in which meaning was associative, i.e. provided by the association of context and content. Damerow has labelled the earliest linguistically incomplete notations in cuneiform, which required contextualization and back-ground information, “proto-writing”.23 Episodes of Script Development on Crete Building on recent research into early writing in other parts of the world and innovative studies of Cretan scripts in the last couple of years,24 this paper will offer some thoughts on script development on Crete in the EM III-MM IIB periods. Modelling script formation as a process that developed in step-like rabid bursts prompted by historical circumstances, implies that pinpointing the place and time script was invented on Crete becomes much more difficult. Although it was long believed that script was invented in MM II in tandem with the construction of the ‘First Palaces’, this view can no longer be accepted considering the evidence on EM III-MM IA sealstones (cf. infra). Script invention on Crete is best seen as a repeated process of invention and innovation. Van der Leeuw defines invention as a local process: “only those agents that are immediately connected to the inventor(s) are involved and the process is therefore one that plays out in a relatively limited number of dimensions comprising the immediate articulation of the know-how of the inventor(s) with the other agents in their material world.”25 Invention happens in a certain spot, involving certain people from which it is diffused and/or adopted by other places/agents, leading to innovation. Innovation, on the other hand, takes place on a different scale and is the adoption of an invention on a collective scale.26 Roux argues that invention is more of a cognitive activity on an individual scale, whereas 18

19

20 21

22

23

24

25

26

J. BAINES, “The earliest Egyptian wiring: development, context, purpose,” HOUSTON ed. (supra n. 5) 157. G. DREYER, U. HARTUNH and F. PUMPENMEIER, Umm-el-Qaab I: Das Prädynastische Köningsgrab U-j and seine frühen Schriftzeugnisse (1998). BAINES (supra n. 18) 172, 174. Cf. M.A. POWELL, “Three Problems in the History of Cuneiform Writing: Origins, Direction of Script, Literacy,” Visible Language 15 (1981)459-480. HOUSTON (supra n. 9) 6, 11. For a gradualistic and unievolutionary model see I..J. GELB, A study of Writing (1963); P. MICHALOWSKI, “Tokenism,” American Anthropologist 95 (1993) 996-999; D. SCHMANDT-BESSERAT, Before Writing: From Counting to Cuneiform (1992) and P. DAMEROW, The Origins of Writing as a Problem of Historical Epistemology (1999). DAMEROW (supra n. 24); R.K. ENGLUND, “The Proto-Elamite Script,” in P. DANIELS and W. BRIGHT (eds), The World’s Writing Systems (1996) 160-164 and IDEM, “Texts from the Late Uruk Period,” in J. BAUER, R. ENGLUND and M. KREBERNIK (eds), Mesopotamien: Späturuk-Zeit und Frühdynastische Zeit (1998) 15-233. S. FERRARA, “The Beginnings of Writing on Crete: Theory and Practice,” BSA (2015) 27-49; EADEM, “Another beginning’s end: Secondary script formation in the Aegean and the Eastern Mediterranean,” in STEELE ed. (supra n. 7) 16; DECORTE (supra n. 1 and 11). S. VAN DER LEEUW, “Agency, networks, past and future,” in C. KNAPPETT and L. MALAFOURIS (eds), Material Agency: Towards a Non-Anthropocentric Perspective (2008) 242. V. ROUX, “Technological innovations and developmental trajectories : social factors as evolutionary

46

Ilse SCHOEP

innovation is better considered a historical phenomenon. Inventors are skilled individuals whose expertise and cognitive abilities allow them to break with tradition. There never is invention while one learns motor skills. At the end of the apprenticeship, skills necessary for reproducing the tradition, and only those skills are literally “embedded”. The skills then participate directly in the maintenance of the tradition, in the sense that it becomes difficult for subjects to conceive of making things in other ways, given the cognitive and motor skills they have developed.27 The oldest evidence for writing on Crete is found on EM III-MM IA sealstones, which were markers of identity that were worn on the body.28 The best known are the sealstones of the Archanes Script Group, which comprises 14 sealstones of different shapes (cubes, discoids, flattened cylinder, baton, etc.) and different materials (ivory, bone, steatite, agate and white stone).29 The stylistical date of this group is EM III-MM IA but some seals are also attested in a MM IB context.30 According to Sbonias, the workshop was located at Archanes, but this argument is based mainly on the place that yielded most seals.31 The hesitancy of some scholars to accept the signs on these seals as writing can be explained by their prepalatial date but also by the fact that not all seals featuring the Archanes Script were included in CHIC.32 Only those seals of the Archanes Script Group containing signs that also occur on Cretan Hieroglyphic archival documents were included and seals featuring other signs or isolated signs were excluded. This is a good example of interpreting something earlier on the basis of something later, which is methodologically questionable.33 A cursory look at other seals in the stylistic group reveals that they also contain writing (such as, for example, CMS II2 no. 215; CMS II1, no. 126, CMS II1 no. 287, CMS II1 no. 064, CMS II1 no. 391, CMS II1 no. 392, CMS II1 no. 326, CMS II1 no. 329 etc.). It goes without saying that these should be included in any study that attempts to model the development of script on Crete (Pl. 1Xa-c).34 Besides the Archanes Script Group, I would like to draw attention to another group of seals that may also have played a role in the development of writing, i.e. the EM III-MM IA “white pieces” group, which consists of more than 100 seals of different shapes (buttons, reels, zoomorphs, Giebelprisma and

27 28

29

30

31

32 33 34

forces,” in M.J. O’BRIEN and S.J. SHENNAN, Innovation in Cultural Systems. Contributions from Evolutionary Anthropology (2010) 217-234. ROUX (supra n. 26) 224-225. M. RELAKI, “The social arenas of tradition. Investigating corporate and individual social strategies in Prepalatial and Protopalatial Mesara,” in I. SCHOEP, P. TOMKINS and J. DRIESSEN (eds), Back to the Beginning: Reassessing social, economic and political complexity in the Early and Middle Bronze Age on Crete (2012) 290-324. The sealstones that are inscribed with Cretan Hieroglyphic, although notoriously difficult to date, seem to be a feature of MM II. Cretan Hieroglyphic writing, on sealstones and on clay alike, is at an already welldefined stage of style and abstraction and even the signs that can be singled out as logograms have an essentially stylized appearance (FERRARA supra n. 24). For a few sealstones an earlier date has been suggested but this is not certain (DECORTE [supra n. 11] 31-32), although a sherd from Building Pi at Malia seems to be bridging the MM IB/IIA ‘epigraphic gap’ (M. PERNA, “The Birth of Administration and Writing in Minoan Crete: Some Thoughts on Hieroglyphs and Linear A,” in D. NAKASSIS, J. GULIZIO and S.A. JAMES [eds], KE-RA-ME-JA: Studies Presented to Cynthia Shelmerdine [2014] 251-9). DECORTE (supra n. 11) 36 prefers an MM IA date. K. SBONIAS, Frükretische Siegel: Ansätze für eine Interpretation der sozial-politischen Entwicklung auf Kreta während der Frühbronzezeit (1994) 99-107 however, prefers a MM IA late/MM IB date. The seal from Moni Odigitria was found in a MM IB pit (A. VASILAKIS and K. BRANIGAN, Moni Odigitria. A Prepaltial Cemetery and its Environs in the Asterousia, Southern Crete [2010]131). K. SBONIAS, “Regional Elite-Groups and the Production and Consumption of Seals in the Prepalatial period. A Case-Study of the Asterousia,” in SCHOEP, TOMKINS and DRIESSEN (eds) (supra n. 28) 273289. E.S.K. ANDERSON, Seals, Craft and Community in Bronze Age Crete (2016) 147-152 suggests that Archanes, like Marathokephalo and Platanos, was a hub of exchange. E.g. OLIVIER (supra n. 10); KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 10) 71. STEELE and MEISSNER (supra n. 7) 94. See recently DECORTE (supra n. 1)

THE DEVELOPMENT OF WRITING ON CRETE IN EM III-MM IIB

47

scarabs) made of a man-made white paste.35 The latter was influenced by Egyptian/Levantine techniques and constitutes a striking case of technological transfer.36 The workshop(s) producing the white pieces ha/s(ve) been located in the southern part of the Mesara, specifically at Moni Odigitria.37 The stylistic group also includes Egyptianizing but locally produced scarabs that were clearly emulating Egyptian scarabs. Imported scarabs from the phase from the First Intermediate Period to the XIIth Dynasty – which corresponds roughly to MM IA – have been found at Archanes, Gournes, Lenda and Platanos.38 The technological as well as typological (scarabs) link of the “white pieces” with Egypt/the Levant is interesting given that Egyptian scarabs are often incised with Egyptian hieroglyphs. This strengthens the argument that the signs on the white pieces also represent writing (e.g. CMS IV no. 113, CMS VS1A no. 221, CMS VS1A no. 224, CMS VS1A no. 225, CMS IV no. D024a) (Pl. 1Xd-j). The relationship between these signs and the Archanes Script cannot be determined at present and warrants an in depth analysis. There is no question that at least two EM III-MM IA stylistical groups of seals were experimenting with writing, with workshops in North-and South Central Crete. There is no such evidence from East Crete and sealstones attributed to the Archanes Script Group or the “white pieces” group are rare from this part of Crete.39 Going on the extant data, there are no indications that experiments with writing were conducted in contemporary East Crete, which is surprising considerin the abundance of Cretan Hieroglyphic sealstones in MM II.40 Central Crete and especially the central corridor along which seals travelled seems to have been a fertile breeding ground for the development of writing in EM III-MM IA. That Central Crete was an innovative and vibrant environment for seal carving craftsmanship is also suggested by the Parading Lions Group (EM III-MM IA), the production of which is associated with Marathokephalo, Archanes and Platanos.41 E. Anderson explains this group as a development that came about by interaction between social groups that were located at numerous places in the landscape rather than by dissemination downward from a particular palatial center toward peripheral locales: “The Parading Lions objects thus were a powerfully incorporative sociocultural phenomenon. In choosing to participate in and reproduce this material culture form, people around Crete were recognizing and thereby creating peers in other regions by symbolically establishing a point of comparison and share experience”.42 A similar model may be advanced to explain the distribution of the EM III-MM IA seals with writing, as there is no evidence that they were disseminated downward from a particular center either. This would appear to confirm, as I suggested elsewhere, that early writing on Crete can be associated with developments in non-palatial settlements in Central Crete and is closely tied in with the production of elite material culture. It is interesting that some of it was Egyptianizing in nature, which may have been 35

36 37

38 39

40

41 42

I. PINI, “Eleven Early Cretan Scarabs,” in A. KARETSOU (ed.), Kriti-Aigyptos. Politismoi desmoi trion Chilieton. Meletes (2000) 107-113. KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 10) 74. I. PINI, “Eine Frühkretische Siegelwerkstatt,” in Proceedings of the Sixth International Cretological Congress (1990) 115-27; SBONIAS (supra n. 30); KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 10). PINI (supra n. 37) 112. Two seals that were attributed to the “white pieces” stylistical group have been found at Palaikastro (CMS II2 no 258, CMS II2 no. 260) and one at Gournes (CMS II1 no. 403). A bone cube from Petras with only the faintest of engravings may belong to the Archanes Script Group, see O. KRZYSZKOWSKA, “Further Seals from the Cemetery at Petras,” in M. TSIPOPOULOU (ed.), Petras, Siteia. The Pre-and Protopalatial Cemetery in Context (2017) 146 (PTSK14.1233). For more seals see EADEM, “Seals from the Petras Cemetery. A Preliminary View,” in M. TSIPOPOULOU (ed.), Petras, Siteia. 25 Years of Excavations and Studies (2012) 145-156. According to Krzyszkowska four-sided bars appear suddenly in MM II and three-sided prisms are also largely, if not wholly, MM II in date (O. KRZYSZKOWSKA, review of M. ANASTASIADOU, The Middle Minoan Three-Sided Soft Stone Prism, A Study of Style and Iconography [2011], JHS [2014] 241). A group of 17 prisms (Anastasiadou’s ‘Mesara Chlorite’ group) shows some earlier features, but again are geographically at home in South Central Crete. SBONIAS (supra n. 30) 93-94; ANDERSON (supra n. 31) 135, 149. ANDERSON (supra n. 31) 98, 148.

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important since distance is a resource that allows individuals and groups to create differences in identity and to demonstrate membership of a nonlocal community of elite practices and appearances.43 In addition to a potential Egyptian/Levantine link, the use of pictorial forms in writing may have been a scarce resource and marks it as a product of an elite in an intensification of their control of material and symbolic resources.44 Despite the fact that few EM III-MM IA sealings have been found, it is highly likely that the sealstones with writing also made impressions on clay sealings. 45 Sealings can be considered as symbolically charged objects that had the potential to extend a person’s ability to interact socially into a temporal and spatial context other than the present one.46 The production of a sealing encompasses a variety of actors and types of agency, involving the owner of the sealed object, the owner of the seal used, the producer of the sealing and the agencies evoked by the image on the sealing which may be of a supernatural order.47 Sealings therefore encapsulate the potential to speak of “the relationships rather than of the particular goods received or disbursed”.48 To conclude, it may be argued that writing was invented on Crete sometime in EM III-MM IA in the corridor between North and South Central Crete. This early writing may not have been a fully developed script from the start and it may not have been designed primarily for the notation of language. Its use seems to have been limited to sealstones and their impressions.49 Rather than a teleological scenario envisaging the direct development of the Archanes Script or the writing on the “white pieces” group into either Linear A or Cretan Hieroglyphic (cf. supra), other scenarios are possible. It is possible that knowledge of this early writing gave impulse to the invention of Cretan Hieroglyphic and/or Linear A not in a monogenetic way but in a discontinuous technological evolution according to thresholds, in which each threshold corresponds to an invention.50 The invention of Cretan Hieroglyphic and Linear A “Without doubt, the Minoans at the beginning of the second millennium did not ‘re invent’ writing independently … starting with ideas from elsewhere, they created an original and astonishingly uncomplicated system for recording the sounds of their language by means of signs.”51

43

44

45

46 47 48

49

50 51

M. HELMS, Access to Origins: Affines, Ancestors and Aristocrats (1998); J. BARRATT, “The Politics of Scale and the Experience of Distance: The Bronze Age World System,” in L. LARSEN and B. STJERNQUIST (eds), The World-View of Prehistoric Man (1998) 13-25; I. SCHOEP, “Looking Beyond the First Palaces: Elites and the Agency of Power in EM III-MM II Crete,” AJA 110 (2006) 37-64. BAINES (supra n. 18) 167 also suggests that as a result of its scarcity pictorial representation in writing may have become heavily sacralized. The main contexts in which EM III-MM I sealstones are found are funerary, and this type of context is not conducive to the preservation of sealings which require a destruction layer to bake and preserve them, see BENNET (supra n. 4) 6 and DECORTE (supra n. 11) 39-40. ANDERSON (supra n. 31) 51. D. WENGROW, “Prehistories of Commodity Branding,” Current Anthropology 49/1 (2008) 13. M.S. ROTHMAN, “Seal and sealing findspots, design, audience, and function,” in P. FERIOLI (ed.), Archives Before Writing (1994) 97-212, esp. 100. In the context of the Late Uruk period at Uruk (c. 33503000 BC), a close link has been suggested between seal carving, which had long been in existence and formed the main technology of communication until then, and the earliest lexical texts and seal carving. The glyptic motifs inspired the creation of categories of signs, which were ranked and then elaborated on, which resulted in the lexical texts (J.C. ROSS, “Art’s Role in the Origins of Writing: The Seal-Carver, the Scribe and the Earliest Lexical Texts,” in B.A. BROWN and M.H. FELDMAN (eds), Critical Approaches to Ancient Near Eastern Art [2014] 295-318). The modern inclination to view early scripts as extending to all possible uses is anachronistic, see HOUSTON (supra n. 9) 12. ROUX (supra n. 26) 220-221. OLIVIER (supra n. 10) 378.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF WRITING ON CRETE IN EM III-MM IIB

49

Until recently, the prevalent view was that writing on Crete was not invented independently but that the idea came from Egypt or the Levant.52 Ferrara recently argued for an independent invention, arguing that the creators of Cretan Hieroglyphic may have drawn inspiration from their surroundings, in particular the pre- and proto-literate glyptic designs, rather than from a specific script template.53 She argues that the syllabic nature of Cretan Hieroglyphic and Linear A may also point towards a local invention.54 Decorte argues for the existence of glyptic sematographs from EM II onwards, while allowing for some degree of exogenous influence on the development of the conceptual background for writing before the rise of the Archanes Script.55 In my opinion it is most likely that the inspiration for Cretan Hieroglyphic and Linear A is to be found in the writing on the EM III-MM IA sealstones discussed above but that the production of the “white pieces” and their technological and ideological link with Egyptian scarabs in particular may have played a role. Studies in the history of technology show that techniques are cumulative in the sense that any transformation of a technique always incorporates previous knowledge. In this respect invention is often considered as an incremental modification or a combination of preexisting elements.56 Although seals with writing may have been used to stamp sealings prior to MM II (see supra), writing in clay, i.e. the incision of signs with a stylus on a clay surface, appears to be an MM II invention. So far, there is no evidence that Cretan Hieroglyphic and Linear A were incised on archival documents prior to MM IIA. Although it is sometimes assumed that Cretan Hieroglyphic is the oldest of both,57 there is no conclusive archaeological evidence for this as the MM IIA tablet fragment from the South-West Houses at Knossos is too small to be attributed to either.58 Barring the above fragment, all Cretan Hieroglyphic and Linear A documents are dated to MM IIB. However, it is important to realize that this is a proxy date based on the date of the destruction level in which they were found rather than their actual date of production. Although it is usually assumed that administrative documents had a short life and date to the latest administrative cycle predating the destruction layer, this assumption is projected from Linear B onto an earlier and historically different situation. Recent evidence suggests that Minoan administrative documents may have had a longer life and may have been produced at any time between the construction of a building and its destruction. This evidence takes the shape of a sealing impressed by a gold signet ring depicting a charioteer scene from Akrotiri which was sent from North Central Crete in LM IA (ca 1550 B.C.). The exact same gold ring also impressed sealings at several sites on Crete that are dated to LM IB (ca 1450 B.C.).59 The LM IA impression from Akrotiri suggests that sealings from Crete impressed by that same ring may also predate the LM IB destruction and indeed microscopic analysis of two sealings from Ayia Triada shows that the charioteer ring was more worn when used on HMs 516 than on HMs 591.60 This suggests a lapse of time between the production of both sealings and shows that a deposit could have built up over a longer period of time than the latest administrative cycle, which has far-reaching consequences for dating the production 52 53

54

55 56 57

58 59

60

OLIVIER (supra n. 10) 378. FERRARA (supra n. 24) 16 suggests that syllables are a natural go-to choice as structural units for new scripts. FERRARA (supra n. 24) 12-3. It has been suggested that all syllabic, consonantal or alphabetic systems may come into existence rapidly (HOUSTON [supra n. 5] 351). DECORTE (supra n. 11) 42. ROUX (supra n. 26) 218. E.g. P.M. STEELE, “Introduction: The Aegean Wiring Systems”, in STEELE ed. (supra n. 7) 2-3. Cf. EVANS (supra n. 3). See also DECORTE (supra n. 8). A. KARNAVA, “The LM IA Cretan sealings from Akrotiri: chronological and historical implications,” in L. GODART, M. NEGRI and A. SACCONI (eds), Atti del colloquio internazionale “Riflessioni sulla cronologia egea alla luce delle recenti scoperte di Santorini”, Milano, 27-28 aprile 2009 (2011) 87-91. W. MULLER, I. PINI and N. PLATON, Iraklion, Archäologisches Museum. Teil 6. Die Siegelabdrücke von Aj. Triada und anderen zentral- und ostkretischen Fundorten, unter Einbeziehung von Funden aus anderen Museen (1999) fig. 3, upper left (HMs 516) and upper right (HMs 591). I thank D. Panagiotopoulos for pointing this out to me.

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of administrative documents (and the study of the pace of the development of writing and sealing practices). The date of the Hieroglyphic Deposits at Knossos and Malia is notoriously problematic but even the MM IIB date of Vano 25 in the court building at Phaistos is less certain than one would like. Although the destruction dates to MM IIB, the material in it may have accumulated over a longer period of time than the latest administrative cycle.61 Weingarten has argued on the basis of the stylistic evolution of seal motifs between Vano 25 and deposits elsewhere in the building that the sealings from the former represent a build-up over time, estimated to extend over approximately 15 years. Although the argument of stylistic evolution can be criticized,62 it is possible that the writing practices in Vano 25 also point towards an accumulated deposit because of the possibility that two different scribal traditions are attested.63 Besides Linear A like we find in LM I contexts (the so-called “canonical Linear A”), a scribal tradition that comprises signs unknown in the latter and is called “proto-Linear A” – for the sake of a better name – is also attested.64 Both are associated with different clay supports: “proto-Linear A” is inscribed on two-sided bars (PH 9, PH 10, PH 12, PH 13, PH 22, PH 24, PH 26), and “canonical Linear A” on page-shaped tablets. There is also an ‘in between shape’ that I call ‘oblong tablet’ (PH 16, PH 17).65 There is a possibility that these scribal traditions represent different steps in the development of writing at Phaistos and that the deposit may have a longer chronological span than generally assumed.66 There is no reason to doubt that the Linear A inscriptions represent syllabic writing, but the same must not automatically be assumed for the so-called proto-Linear A inscriptions. 67 Interestingly, Vano 25 also yielded a unique numerical tablet (PH 11), which emphasizes the storage capacity of early writing.68 In Sumerian, the first tablets were numerical and only at a later stage other types of information were recorded (“numericoideographic” tablets).69 Comparative studies have noted that the earliest writing was mainly used to do something that spoken language cannot do, i.e. the storage of information (e.g. livestock or ration records, offering lists, labels) rather than to record language.70 The extent and nature of the MM II written documents in Cretan Hieroglyphic and Linear A suggest indeed that the phonetic recording of language in writing was fairly limited and that signs for commodities, numerals and fractions are amongst the most frequent signs (Pl. Xa-c). 61

62 63

64

65

66

67 68

69 70

The Hieroglyphic Deposit at Knossos has been dated to MM II and MM III (See I. SCHOEP, “Some notes on the “Hieroglyphic” Deposit from Knossos,” SMEA 43/1 [2001] 143-158 and recently DECORTE [supra n. 8]). For the Hieroglyphic Deposit from Malia, a MM IIIB date has been suggested, see O. PELON, “L’épée à l’acrobate et la chronologie maliote,” BCH 107 (1983) 680-703. As, for example, argued by RELAKI (supra n. 28) 305. T.G. PALAIMA, “Linear A in the Cyclades: the Trade and Travel of a Script,” TUAS 7 (1982) 15-22 refers to thirty “proto-Linear A” tablets but Godart mentions besides “Proto-Linear A” also Linear A and Cretan hieroglyphic (L. GODART, “La scrittura Lineare A”, PdP 31 [1976] 30-47). J.-P. OLIVIER, “L’origine de l’écriture linéaire B”, SMEA 20 (1979) 47 distinguishes between PH 7 and the other tablets which are written in a form of “Proto-Linear A”. Other inscriptions on the same type of bars comprise signs that are similar to later Linear A (PH 14, PH 15a). The palaeography of some signs is elaborate and bears closest resemblance to the signs on the MM III-LM I stone vases, suggesting that the latter had a archaizing character. I. SCHOEP, Minoan Administration of Crete. An interdisciplinary Approach to Documents in Cretan Hieroglyphic and Linear A (MM I/II-LM IB), Unpublished PhD KU Leuven (1996) 174. The large quantity of sealings in Vano 25 suggests that it may well have been an accumulated context. It is widely accepted that sealings and documents from elsewhere in the building were meant to be taken to Vano 25 (P. MILITELLO, “L’archivio di cretule del Vano 25 e un nuovo sigillo da Festòs,” in. M. PERNA [ed.], Administrative Documents in the Aegean and their Near Eastern Counterparts [2000] 221-43). The term Proto-Linear A does not imply that this script was a direct predecessor of Linear A. Numerico-ideographic tablets are considered to consist of “simple numerical notations” with “the inclusion of one, at most two of a group of ideograms…which represent discrete objects” and the mixed notations of numerical signs and ideograms mark the inception of proto-cuneiform, see ENGLUND (supra n. 23) 52, cited in COOPER (supra n. 17) 74. COOPER (supra n. 17) 2004, 80; ENGLUND (supra n. 23). COOPER (supra n. 17) 83, cf. J. GOODY, The Domestication of the Savage Mind (1977) 78.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF WRITING ON CRETE IN EM III-MM IIB

51

By the end of MM IIB (1875/50-1750/00 B.C.), two script communities coexisted on Crete: a Linear A one in South-Central Crete (Phaistos) and a Cretan Hieroglyphic one in East Crete (Malia, Petras).71 It is not clear what script(s) was/were used in North-Central Crete because of the uncertainty surrounding the date and composition of the Hieroglyphic Deposit at Knossos. However, if the former dates to MM II rather than MM III,72 then both Linear A and Cretan Hieroglyphic were used at Knossos.73 Such scenario would make Linear A at Knossos as old as at Phaistos.74 An inscription painted on a MM II (terminus ante quem) larnax from Archanes appears to be Linear A.75 The place of invention of Linear A is therefore Central Crete, either Knossos or Phaistos. Cretan Hieroglyphic originated either at Knossos, Malia or Petras. The most likely locations are Knossos or Malia and to date the earliest possible such inscription is found on a sherd from a MM IB/MM IIA fill at Malia.76 It is unlikely that Cretan Hieroglyphic and Linear A were invented independently, and therefore one must have formed the template for the creation of the other. It is most likely that script originated in one place and that the technology was transmitted from here to other places. Writing relates to sharing indepth, more complex and difficult-to-learn information and the vertical transmission of this technology implies an extended period of contact and learning.77 The similarities between both systems cannot be coincidental: both are syllabic writing systems and they share klasmathograms, logograms as well as syllabograms. However, the degree of similarity between both can only be answered after the methodological problem of the selective creation of the Cretan Hieroglyphic syllabary is addressed (see supra). In addition, one should be careful not to compare Linear A of the MM III-LM I period with MM II Cretan Hieroglyphic, because this entails a danger of “synoptic fallacy”, i.e. the notion that properties of the script in one period can explain its properties in another and that the script can be seen in a condensed fashion, all periods conflated together. 78 The invention and deployment of a script system involves choices and whereas some choices will be aimed at transcending local conditions, others will accentuate them.79 If we take into account that ‘a writing system is not only about recording sound but also figures into assertions of identity, of wanting to be like the ones using the source, or creating a distinct or opposed identity’, then the invention of Linear A and Cretan Hieroglyphic in the course of MM II can be taken to imply a conscious choice aimed at emphasizing and expressing difference in response to specific historical conditions in respectively North and North-East Crete and South Central Crete. The intentional creation of two scripts in MM II makes it likely that both Linear A and Cretan Hieroglyphic were created in Central Crete, as there is plenty of

71

72

73

74

75

76

77

78 79

HOUSTON ed. (supra n. 5) 299 identifies script communities as ‘the social groupings that employ, teach, and learn particular systems of versions of scripts’. Such script communities can be fragmented, resulting in the production of texts that may not easily be intelligible to readers of other, related scripts. Disruptions in script communities may result in lapses of understanding and to innovations. P. YULE, “On the Date of the ‘Hieroglyphic Deposit’ at Knossos,” Kadmos 11 (1978) 1-7; A. KARNAVA, The Cretan Hieroglyphic Script of the Millennium BC: Description, Analysis, Function and Decipherment Perspectives, PhD. Université Libre de Bruxelles; DECORTE (supra n. 8) 31. For an MM III date see i.a. SCHOEP (supra n. 61). M. ANASTASIADOU, “Drawing the Line: Seals, Script, and Regionalism in Protopalatial Crete”, AJA 120/2 (2016) suggests that Linear A is at home in north-central Crete in MM II. See DECORTE (supra n. 8) 31 for different views. The documents involved are two crescents (CHIC #010 and #019), a three-sided bar CHIC #048 and a tablet CHIC #068, see DECORTE (supra n. 11) 22. M. DEL FREO and J. ZURBACH, “La préparation d’un supplément au receuil des inscriptions en linéaire A. Observations à partir d’un travail en cours”, BCH 135 (2011) 73-97. PERNA (supra n. 29) 251-259; DECORTE (supra n. 8) 32. I have not examined the sherd in person but on the basis of the published photograph and drawing (M. POMADERE, “Chronique des fouilles en Grèce. Malia”, BCH [2009] 637, fig. 4) I cannot entirely exclude an identification as Linear A (AB 122-04-80). S. SHENNAN, Genes, Memes and Human History (2002) 50; C. KNAPPETT, An Archaeology of Interaction. Network Perspectives on Material Culture and Society (2011)103. HOUSTON ed. (supra n. 5) 299. HOUSTON ed. (supra n. 5) 275.

Ilse SCHOEP

52

evidence for contacts between both regions.80 Houston suggests that some scripts come into existence in places of cultural contact, less as a blatant copying than as counter-markings pertaining to opposing ethnic or linguistic groups.81 He also notes that at such membranes of contact the newly devised script often displayed different principles of organization from its parent or stimulus and one wonders whether the more “pictorial” and iconic character of Cretan Hieroglyphic was meant to contrast with the more linear character of Linear A. The disappearance of Cretan Hieroglyphic in MM III can then be seen as the disappearance of the specific historical conditions that warranted the creation of two different scripts. Since a writing system implies a social and economic investment that is required to propagate and maintain a writing system, when the investment stops so does the script.82 The more usual scenario of extinction of a script involves a process of gradual decay, with younger writers shifting from secure command of the language to progressively weaker understanding, eventually to little more than the recollection of it and the preservation of a few signs.83 Conclusion The development of writing on Crete cannot be modelled as a single invention but is better understood as a sequence of step-like inventions, not in a gradualistic and unievolutionary model, but as rapid bursts followed by subsequent modifications that extend over long periods of time. 84 There can be no doubt that writing occurred on EM III-MM IA sealstones that predate the MM II Cretan Hieroglyphic and Linear A documents. The best examples are seals that belong to the Archanes Script Group and the “white pieces”. There is no evidence to regard this early writing as an early form of either Linear A or Cretan Hieroglyphic and it may very well represent a different writing system. The prevalence of both stylistical groups of sealstones in and along the Central Cretan north-south corridor suggests that this region may have played a crucial role in the invention of writing in EM III-MM IA. This early writing seems to have been quite restricted in use, it being used on sealstones and presumably on the sealings that were impressed by the latter. It can also be linked to elite behaviour in non-palatial contexts. There is a considerable gap between the EM III-MM IA sealstones with writing and MM IIB Linear A and Cretan Hieroglyphic, which at the moment cannot be bridged in a conclusive way even if one accepts that some documents may predate the MM IIB destructions as suggested infra. However, it is most likely that this early writing formed a source of inspiration for the invention of Cretan Hieroglyphic and Linear A, without implying that the latter evolved from the former in a monogenetic and unievolutionary way. The similarities between the Linear A and Cretan Hieroglyphic writing systems make it highly unlikely that these scripts were invented independently in different parts of Crete and they were probably created either in the same place – although not necessarily at the same time – or through vertical transmission of this technology, presumably in the course of MM II.85 The creation of two different scripts and the existence of two script communities, which includes a range of sealed documents and tablet types, in MM II may be taken to imply a conscious choice aimed at emphasizing and expressing difference in response to specific historical conditions in respectively North-/East Crete and South Central Crete. The disappearance of Cretan Hieroglyphic in MM III can then be seen as the disappearance of the specific historical conditions that necessitated the development of two different scripts. Ilse SCHOEP

80

81 82 83 84 85

For pottery see P.M. DAY and D.E. WILSON, “Consuming Power: Kamares Ware of Protopalatial Knossos,” Antiquity 72 (1998) 350-358. HOUSTON (supra n. 9) 10. COOPER (supra n. 17) 80. HOUSTON ed. (supra n. 5) 10. S. HOUSTON, “The Archaeology of Communication Technologies,” Annu. Rev. Anthropol. 33 (2004) 241. HOUSTON (supra n. 9) 6, 11. DECORTE (supra n. 13) 366.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF WRITING ON CRETE IN EM III-MM IIB

53

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Pl. IXa-c Pl. IXd-j Pl. Xa-c

Seal with Archanes Script, not included in CHIC (CMS II2 215). Seals of the “white pieces” group containing writing: e. CMS IV 113-1; f. CMS IV 110-1; g. CMS IV 020-1; h. CMS IV 0025a; i. CMS VS1A 221-1; j. CMS VS1A 224-1. a. PH 8; b. PH 11; c. MA 6a (after GORILA 1).

IX

a

b

c

d

e

f

h

g

i

j

X

a

b

c

WOOL WORKING AT HAGIA TRIADA: THE HT 24 TABLET AND THE 45 NODULI FROM THE QUARTIERE SUDOVEST 8 The Hagia Triada Linear A tablet HT 24 is a fragmentary document incised on both sides (Fig. below). Five of the six entries on the recto contain the monogram 󰜣 AB 80+26, while the three on the verso are characterized by the presence of the sign 󰘊 AB 118. Given the repetitive nature of the registrations, which appears clearly from the following transcription (where the signs whose reading is uncertain are shown on a grey background), it is likely that originally the third entry on the recto also referred to amounts of AB 80+26.

Tablet HT 24 (GORILA I, p. 42). Drawing by L. Godart. HT 24a (recto) .1-2 .2 .2-3 .3 .4 .5

󰗳󰖮󰖢󰖱 󰗈

𐀞󰕩󰖢󰖱 ]󰕓󰕘󰗓

HT 24b (verso)

󰜣[ 󰜣󰔨 󰜣󰔨 󰜣󰔨[ 󰜣[

]6 10[ ]9 6

󰟛

.1 .1-2 .2 .3-5

󰛬󰗈 󰛻

]󰘊

󰘊 󰘊

1 1 1

󰠅 󰠅

vacant

The AB 80+26 monogram, which is also attested on three other Linear A tablets – from Hagia Triada (HT .4), Khania (KH 43.1̣) and Phaistos (PH 3a.3̣) – is similar in shape to the Linear B logogram 𐂝 *145 LANA and probably designated the same commodity.1 *

1

Among the interests cultivated by John Younger during his academic career are the non-deciphered writings of the pre-classical Aegean world. It is therefore with pleasure that I dedicate to him this contribution on Linear A. An earlier version of this paper was presented at the London Mycenaean Seminar on 13 March 2019. I warmly thank John Killen for reading the text and offering valuable comments and suggestions. Of course, the responsibility for any remaining mistakes is entirely my own. See Docs 36, 52, 314 (pace E.L. BENNETT, Jr., “Linear B Sematographic Signs,” in M.S. RUIPÉREZ (ed.), Acta Mycenaea I [1972] 57-60).

56

Maurizio DEL FREO

As has been observed, if given the corresponding Linear B phonetic values, the monogram AB 80+26 reads MA+RU,2 a syllabic sequence that might be at the origin of Gr. μαλλός ‘fleece, wool’ (cf. also Hsch. μάλλυκες· τρίχες).3 However, since it cannot be proved that the two syllabograms AB 80 and AB 26 had the same phonetic values in both scripts, such a reading is doubtful.4 Nevertheless, as noted by E. Hallager on the basis of some previous observations by Th. G. Palaima, if one admits: 1) that a relationship existed between the records on the recto (󰜣 31 󰟛) and those on the verso (󰘊 1 󰠅 + 1 󰠅 + 1) of HT 24, 2) that 󰘊 AB 118 was, as in Linear B (*118 L), the symbol for talent, 3) that the fraction signs 󰟛 A 707 (J) and 󰟘 A 704 (E) had the values of ½ and ¼ respectively, and 4) that the lacunae on the recto contained figures close to the average of the preserved units (31 ½ : 4 - 7 ¾), one can suggest that originally the total of the figures recorded on the recto was 󰜣 45 and that the ratio between such a total and the total of 󰘊 4 ½ recorded on the verso was 10 : 1, i.e. the ratio between LANA (10) and talent L (1) in Linear B.5 The figures recorded on HT 24 would thus seem to confirm that the meaning of the monogram 󰜣 was indeed ‘wool’. On the other hand, metrological analyses conducted on the balance weights found in several Bronze Age Aegean sites tend to show that such a weight ratio already existed in the Minoan age. Regardless of its absolute value, about which scholars still have different opinions, it is indeed evident that in the Minoan world, as in the Near East (cf. Nuzi and Alalakh, XV cent. BC), the “natural” wool unit – the fleece – had been integrated into the weight system through the creation of a specific unit, equal to four standard fleeces and corresponding to six minas, i.e. to 1/10 of a talent.6 That unit – of about 3 kg –, its multiples and its binary, ternary and duodecimal fractions are apparently attested both at Akrotiri and in various Cretan Neopalatial sites.7 At Akrotiri, in particular, there are at least two cases (in the West House and in the House Alpha East), in which balance weights are associated with traces of textile workshops.8 A confirmation of the hypothesis that the ratio between the totals on the two sides of HT 24 was 10 : 1 and, consequently, that the meaning of the monogram 󰜣 was ‘wool’, comes finally from the group of the 45 uninscribed noduli with the same seal imprint (Levi 118, CMS II.6 no. 20) found in the 2 3

4

5

6

7

8

Docs 52. The etymology of Gr. μαλλός is uncertain (see DELG and EDG). For its possible derivation from MA+RU, see J.L. MELENA, “On the Linear B Ideogrammatic Syllabogram ZE,” in J.T. KILLEN, J.L. MELENA and J.-P. OLIVIER (eds), Studies in Mycenaean and Classical Greek presented to John Chadwick (1987) 400-401. Using the criteria suggested by J.-P. OLIVIER, “‘Lire’ le linéaire A ?,” in J. BINGEN, G. CAMBIER and G. NACHTERGAEL (eds), Hommages à Claire Préaux (1975) 441-449 and L. GODART, “Du linéaire A au linéaire B,” in Aux origines de l’Hellénisme. La Crète et la Grèce, Hommage à Henri van Effenterre présenté par le Centre G. Glotz (1984) 121-128, only the syllabograms DA, I, JA, KI, PA, PI, RI, RO, SE, SU, TA, TE and TO can be read with some confidence, while any other “reading” must be considered as purely conventional. E. HALLAGER, “One Linear A Tablet and 45 noduli,” Creta Antica 3 (2002) 105-107; for the relationship between recto and verso and the hypothesis about the lacunae on lines .4 and .5 of the recto, see Th.G. PALAIMA, “Seal-Users and Script-Users/Nodules and Tablets at LMIB Hagia Triada,” in P. FERIOLI, E. FIANDRA, G.G. FISSORE and M. FRANGIPANE (eds), Archives Before Writing (1994) 317-318; for A 707 = ½ and A 704 = ¼, see E.L. BENNETT, Jr., “Fractional Quantities in Minoan Bookkeeping,” AJA 54 (1950) 207 and M. TSIPOPOULOU and E. HALLAGER, “Inscriptions with Hieroglyphs and Linear A from Petras, Siteia,” SMEA 37 (1996) 29-30). In Linear B the LANA 10 : L 1 ratio can be deduced from the L 1 : M 30 and LANA 1 : M 3 ratios. See N.F. PARISE, “Pesi egei per la lana”, PP (1986) 81-88; K.M. PETRUSO, “Wool-evaluation at Knossos and Nuzi,” Kadmos 25 (1986) 26-37. See P. DE FIDIO, “On the Routes of Aegean Bronze Age Wool and Weights,” in J. BENNET and J. DRIESSEN (eds), A-NA-QO-TA. Studies Presented to J.T. Killen (1998-1999) 39-64. The Mycenaean weight ratios LANA 1 : M 3 (where M = double mina) and LANA 1 : OVISm 4 could therefore date back to the Minoan age: see P. DE FIDIO, “Le poids mycénien de la laine,” in S. DEGER-JALKOTZY, St. HILLER, O. PANAGL, G. NIGHTINGALE and Th. LINDNER (eds), Floreant Studia Mycenaea (1999) 200. See A. MICHAILIDOU, Weight and Value in Pre-coinage Societies. Volume II: Sidelights on Measurement from the Aegean and the Orient (2008) 65-99 (with bibliography).

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immediate vicinity of the tablet.9 As observed by Hallager,10 it is in fact difficult to doubt that the group of the 45 noduli were related to the 4 ½ 󰘊 recorded on the verso and to the (possible) 45 units of 󰜣 listed on the recto of HT 24. The logical consequence of this hypothesis is that each nodulus probably corresponded to one wool unit.11 As stressed by Hallager, it may be significant from this point of view that the noduli were found in close association with objects which were clearly related to textile activities, such as needles and loom weights.12 On the whole, then, both textual and archaeological evidence seem to suggest that HT 24 was a document related to wool.13 Moreover, the ratio between the amounts recorded on the two sides of the tablet and the 45 noduli found nearby seem to suggest that all these accounting operations referred to the same batch of wool. Turning to the text of HT 24, the following observations can be made. The recto of the tablet contains six entries divided into three sections, each of which is introduced by a hapax legomenon: 󰗳󰖮󰖢󰖱 AB 81-56-53-57 (KU-56-RI-JA), 𐀞󰕩󰖢󰖱 AB 03-31-53-57 (PA-SA-RI-JA) and ]󰕓󰕘󰗓 AB ]2̣6̣-2̣8̣-70 (]ṚỤ-ỊKO). The first section (ll. 1-3) includes four entries, while the other two (l. 4 and l. 5) contain one each. The first syllabic group is followed by a word-divider and the isolated sign 󰗈 AB 6̣7̣ (ḲỊ), which, by its shape and position, seems to have been added as a result of an afterthought after the sign for wool had already been written. In three cases the sign for wool is followed by 󰔨 AB 13 (ME). Given the size of the lacunae on the recto, perhaps AB 13 was also recorded in the remaining entries. As already mentioned, the verso of the tablet contains three entries: in the first one 󰘊 AB 118 is preceded by a lacuna, in the other two it is preceded by 󰛬󰗈 A 531 (41+13 ‘67’, SI+ME ‘KI’) and 󰛻 A 539 (57+77, JA+KA). A priori the three syllabic groups on the recto could have been personal names, toponyms or ethnonyms related to the transactions recorded on the tablet. However, since the first syllabic group was associated with four separate amounts, it seems more likely that they were toponyms or ethnonyms14. For the same reason it is likely that the six entries on the recto did not refer to distributions, but to deliveries of wool to the Villa. In fact, while it can be imagined that four separate amounts of wool could be sent to the Villa by one and the same local community, it is difficult to explain why the Villa should have sent four separate amounts of wool to the same village without specifying the recipients. The isolated ḲỊ syllabogram almost certainly refers to all the entries of the first section and, perhaps, also to the other two. In some tablets, KI seems to be an abbreviation for KI-RO, a term which seems to convey the notion of ‘deficit’.15 It is unclear however if this was also the meaning of ḲỊ on HT 24.16 As to the isolated 9

10 11

12 13

14

15

The 45 noduli were found on the window sill between Corridor 9 and Room 27 in the Quartiere Sudovest of the Villa, at about one metre from the threshold that separated Corridor 9 from Room 26, in which, as ascertained by P. Militello, HT 24 came to light (cf. BCH Suppl. XXV [1992] 412 n. 8)." HALLAGER (supra n. 5) 107. The very fact that the rare inscriptions on the noduli are mostly fraction signs strengthens the hypothesis that, in normal conditions, one nodulus corresponded to one unit: see E. HALLAGER, The Minoan Roundel and other Sealed Documents in the Neopalatial Linear A Administration, vol. I (1996) 126-127. HALLAGER (supra n. 5) 107. In the remaining tablets where it is attested, wool is measured in talents (HT .4: AB 118 5), units (KH 43.1̣: AB RE 2) and fractions (PH 3a.3̣: A 717). The value of the fraction sign 󰟫 A 717 (DD) is unknown, but its shape is identical to the “double mina” (M) of the Linear B texts. This seems to be a point of convergence with the Mycenaean weight system. Conversely, the measurement in talents is never attested in the Linear B documents. On KH 43 the wool monogram is followed by AB 27 (RE). It is possible that RE indicated a specific type of wool, as perhaps did AB 13 (ME) on HT 24 (see below). On the possible logogram for ‘wool’ in Cretan Hieroglyphic, see J.G. YOUNGER, “Cretan Hieroglyphic Wool Units (LANA, double mina),” in M. PERNA (ed.), Studi in onore di Enrica Fiandra. Contributi di archeologia egea e vicinorientale (2005) 405-409. See B. MONTECCHI, Contare a Haghia Triada. Le tavolette in lineare A, i documenti sigillati e il sistema economicoamministrativo nel TM IB (2019) 198-199. See e.g. I. SCHOEP, The Administration of Neopalatial Crete. A Critical Assessment of the Linear A Tablets and their Role in the Administrative Process (2002) 139-140.

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syllabogram ME, given the ratio probably existing between the figures on the recto and those on the verso (10 : 1), it is difficult to interpret it as a unit of measure different from the standard wool unit.17 It seems thus more likely that its function was to specify the quality of the commodity or to indicate a specific stage in its processing. As far as the verso is concerned, the ligature SI+ME ‘KI’ and the monogram JA+KA are two hapax. However, ten units of SI+ME are attested on HT 23a.5, while JA+KA can be compared to the monogram 󰜚 A 554 (77+08, KA+A) on HT 38.2.18 This last comparison is strengthened by the fact that on HT 38 KA+A was measured in talents (󰘊 3) like JA+KA. Both HT 23 and HT 38 are records of mixed commodities: HT 23 registers amounts of cyperus, olive oil, wine and other unidentified commodities; HT 38, which is only half-preserved, lists one vase, one pig, three sheep and, immediately after KA+A, a number of textiles, identified by the two ligatures 󰛵 A 535 (54+81) and 󰛶 A 536 (54+312), which seem to correspond to TELA+KU and TELA+ZO of the Knossos Linear B documents.19 Given the relation between recto and verso, it is possible that the verso of HT 24 referred to yarns or cloths produced with the amounts of wool recorded on the recto.20 As has been noted, however, there is almost no archaeological trace of spinning activity at Hagia Triada in LM I.21 It thus seems more likely that the wool recorded on the recto was already spun22 and that the products registered on the verso were fabrics or clothes.23 The fact that these were measured in talents does not contradict this hypothesis. Even

16

17 18

19

20

21

22 23

For this hypothesis see M. Del Freo in M. DEL FREO, Fr. ROUGEMONT and M.-L. NOSCH, “The Terminology of Textiles in the Linear B Tablets, including Some Considerations on Linear A Logograms and Abbreviations,” in C. MICHEL and M.-L. NOSCH (eds), Textile Terminologies in the Ancient Near East and Mediterranean from the 3rd to the 1st millennia BC (2010) 351. It must be noted, however, that KI-RO and KI are always followed by figures, never by logograms or textual elements. Another possibility is that ḲỊ was somehow related to the ligature SI+ME ‘KI’. As a pure hypothesis, if one admits that the first entry on the verso originally contained another KI-ligature, it can be suggested that a direct relationship existed between the wool of the first section on the recto – which amounts to 31 ½ units and can theoretically be restored as 35 – and the 3 ½ talents of the first two entries on the verso. In this case, KI could refer to a quality of wool (e.g. ‘lamb’s wool’, if the adjunct ki in ki OVISm ‘lamb’ of the Knossos Linear B texts [Docs. 554] was the abbreviation of a “Minoan” loan word). For this hypothesis, see MONTECCHI (supra n. 14) 197. See D.W. PACKARD, Minoan Linear A (1974) 79 n. 24. Since the alternation between A and JA in initial position is a recurring phenomenon in Linear A, and since it is possible that monograms were read both upwards and downwards as in Linear B (see A+RE+PA, KA+NA+KO, KA+PO and respectively A+RE+PA, ME+RI, TU+RO2), an alternation between JA+KA and A+KA cannot be excluded. This hypothesis seems to be confirmed by the fact that, judging from the photos in GORILA, in both cases KA seems to have been drawn last. See SCHOEP (supra n. 15) 131 and M. Del Freo in DEL FREO, ROUGEMONT and NOSCH (supra n. 16) 352. See M. Del Freo in DEL FREO, ROUGEMONT and NOSCH (supra n. 16) 353 (cloths) and P. MILITELLO, “Wool Economy in Minoan Crete before Linear B. A Minimalist Position,” in C. BRENIQUET and C. MICHEL (eds), Wool Economy in the Ancient Near East and the Aegean: From the Beginnings of Sheep Husbandry to Institutional Textile Industry (2014) 273-274 (yarns). See P. MILITELLO, Festòs e Haghia Triada. Rinvenimenti minori I. Materiale per la tessitura (2014) 255, 265, 299, 306 and MILITELLO (supra n. 20) 273. The only possible spindle whorl from a Neopalatial context is made of stone, bears a Linear A fraction sign and comes from the so-called Tomba degli Ori: see MILITELLO (supra) 119-120. According to MILITELLO (supra) 171, the object in question could be a weight reused as a spindle whorl. Its chronology, in any case, is uncertain: LM I according to MILITELLO (supra) 120, MM III according to L. GIRELLA, Depositi ceramici del Medio Minoico III da Festòs e Haghia Triada (2010) 161. As stressed by MILITELLO (supra) 135-138, some vases, mostly found in the Complesso della Mazza di Breccia, have been interpreted as “spinning bowls”, but their real function is far from certain (ibid. 45). See MILITELLO (supra n. 20) 273. This hypothesis is compatible with the context of HT 38, where KA+A (which, as already mentioned, could be an alternative spelling of JA+KA) is closely associated with two types of textiles (see above).

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if it is uncertain whether the textiles recorded in the Linear A texts were measured by weight or dimension,24 it is likely that they had standard weights like the Mycenaean ones.25 To sum up, then, HT 24 seems to record deliveries of wool units, probably already spun,26 by three local communities or groups of individuals and, on the verso, fabrics measured by weight and produced with the wool recorded on the recto. Moreover, given the simultaneous registration of wool units and fabrics on the two sides of the tablet, it seems logical to conclude that the fabrics were production targets. It is not easy to imagine what the function of the 45 noduli may have been in this context. Hallager interprets them as receipts for the wool units registered on the recto of HT 24.27 As is known, according to J. Weingarten28 the noduli were “dockets” or “tokens” which gave workers the right to get compensation for the work done. According to Hallager, who extends this theory to the delivery of products,29 the Hagia Triada 45 noduli would be “dockets” ready to be given to the people who were in charge of delivering the wool amounts to the Villa.30 According to Hallager, the presence of the noduli in the Villa could be explained by the fact that when the Villa was destroyed the wool amounts had not yet been delivered, a scenario which is accepted by various scholars.31 Hallager’s reconstruction is certainly suggestive, but it is not without difficulties. In fact, as observed by Hallager himself,32 if every nodulus corresponded to one wool unit, it is impossible to directly correlate the 45 noduli to the quantities recorded on the tablet, because one of the entries on the recto is fractional (]9 ½), while in two cases the talents on the verso seem to be recorded in quantities (1 ¾) which cannot be divided into wool units.33 24

25

26

27 28

29

30

31

32 33

See PALAIMA (supra n. 5) 317, SCHOEP (supra n. 15) 131, and MILITELLO (supra n. 20) 276. The amounts recorded are: A 702 (B), A 704 (E), 1, 2, and 200[: see M. Del Freo in DEL FREO, ROUGEMONT and NOSCH (supra n. 16) 351-352. As demostrated by J.T. Killen, Mycenaean cloths had the following standard weights: pa-wo 1 = LANA 5/3; tu-na-no 1 = LANA 3; *164 1 = LANA 6; te-pa 1 = LANA 7; te-pa pe-ko-to 1 = LANA 10. See J.T. KILLEN, “The Knossos Lc (Cloth) Tablets”, BICS 13 (1966) 106, J.T. KILLEN, “A Problem in the Knossos Lc(l) (Cloth) Tablets,” Hermathena 118 (1974) 87-88, and J.T. KILLEN, “The Find-Places of the Tablets from the Westerns Magazines at Knossos: Some Matters Arising,” Minos 31-32 (1996-1997) 126. In this case, ME on the recto could specify that the wool delivered was not raw, but already spun. If the phonetic value of the sign was indeed /me/ – a hypothesis which cannot be proved – one could compare, as a pure hypothesis, the two substrate terms μέρμις ‘cord, string’ and (if ē is not from *ā) μήρινθος ‘idem’ (see DELG and EDG s.vv.). HALLAGER (supra n. 11) 132, HALLAGER (supra n. 5) 107-108. J. WEINGARTEN, “Some Unusual Minoan Clay Nodules,” Kadmos 25 (1986), 1-21; J. WEINGARTEN, “More Unusual Minoan Clay Nodules: Addendum II,” Kadmos 29 (1990), 16-23. HALLAGER (supra n. 11) 132. Noduli would thus have a function opposite to that of roundels, which Hallager interprets (ibid. 116-118) as receipts given by individuals to the administrations in exchange for goods taken from storerooms. As noted by HALLAGER (supra n. 11) 122, the 45 noduli seem to be of local clay. Moreover, they are identical in shape and (apart from one) always show the same orientation of the seal imprint. This strongly suggests that they were made by the same individual in the same occasion (ibid. 129). Furthermore, the seal type, as is frequently the case for Neopalatial noduli (ibid. 133), seems to be a signet ring, presumably of gold (CMS II.6, no. 20: “Ringschild aus Gold (?)”). This detail strongly suggests that the 45 noduli were stamped by a high ranking individual. See CMS II.6, 360-361 (W. Müller); O. KRZYSZKOWSKA, Aegean Seals: an Introduction (2005) 162; D. PANAGIOTOPOULOS, Mykenische Siegelpraxis. Funktion, Kontext und administrative Verwendung mykenischer Tonplomben auf dem griechischen Festland und auf Kreta (2014) 42-43; MILITELLO (supra n. 21) 263; MILITELLO (supra n. 20) 273; contra MONTECCHI (supra n. 14) 198-200, 236-237. HALLAGER (supra n. 5) 107. On the other hand, it is hard to believe that an official would have prepared 45 receipts before the delivery of the wool amounts. According to MILITELLO (supra n. 20) 273, the wool had already been delivered and the fractional amounts registered on the tablet would be due to the fact that some individual had only delivered a fraction of the expected amount. In this case, however, it is difficul to explain why the noduli – which also Militello interprets as receipts – were still in the Villa.

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Given these difficulties, the only solution seems to be to consider the 45 noduli as the result of a separate weighing operation, distinct from those recorded on the tablet.34 If this alternative hypothesis is accepted, it can be suggested that, after checking the amounts of wool delivered to the Villa and after calculating the fabrics to be produced, an official had handed the wool in question to the head of the workshop where the fabrics had to be produced, and that, for this purpose, he had separately weighed 45 units of wool, impressing his seal on a nodulus after each weighing operation.35 The division of wool into standard weight units can be easily explained if one admits that, as in the Mycenaean world, the wool unit was the basis of accounting in fabric production.36 It is thus possible that, once the weighing was completed, the wool was transferred to the workshop37 – which was perhaps located in one of the areas of the site where loom weights have been found38 – while the noduli remained in the Room 27 of the Villa waiting for further accounting operations. Indeed, based on the current interpretation of the function of the noduli, it can be imagined that at some point the 45 noduli would be given to the head of the workshop, in order for him to use them as “dockets”. This, however, did not take place due to the sudden destruction of the Villa. In this reconstruction the textile workshop would not be registered in the tablet nor would it be identified by a sealing. There are several possible explanations for that. For example, one might think that the workshop was implicitly identified by the types of fabrics to be produced, or that the weighing and delivery of wool had taken place in the presence of witnesses, or that the receipt of the wool collected by the head of the workshop had been archived elsewhere.39 This interpretation closely resembles the ta-ra-si-ja production system attested in the Linear B documents.40 In the cycle of ta-ra-si-ja, which was annual, five administrative phases can be identified: 1) setting of production targets, 2) collection of raw materials, 3) distribution of raw materials, 4) reception of finished products, 5) registration of possible production deficits.41 Since the HT 24 tablet and the 45 noduli of Hagia Triada seem compatible with the first three phases of this administrative cycle, one may ask whether this production system already existed in the Minoan world. Such a possibility has been recently evoked by Chr. Boulotis42 for the Linear A documents from the Akrotiri Complex Delta, where two tablets (THE 7 and THE 8) belonging to the same archive (Room Δ18α)

34 35

36

37 38

39

40

41 42

See M. Del Freo in DEL FREO, ROUGEMONT and NOSCH (supra n. 16) 350 n. 49. If, as seems to be the case, the 45 noduli were related to weighing operations, the seal that certified them could only have belonged to an official. See the Knossos Lc documents, where the wool for cloths is never calculated in talents (L), but always in wool units (LANA) or in submultiples (M) of the wool unit. Where one can imagine that it was conveniently divided according to the fabrics to be produced. Loom weights dating to LM I come from various areas of the site: MILITELLO (supra n. 21) 235-243. The area of the Villa with the largest number of loom weights is the Quartiere Sudovest (where the tablet and the 45 noduli have also been found); the areas of the village with the highest concentrations are the Bastione (Room 12), the Casa delle Sfere Fittili (Rooms 2, 8 and 9) and the Complesso della Mazza di Breccia (Room n). It should be noted that, according to the current theory, such a receipt would have been formed by one or more roundels, a type of document which is nearly exclusively found in archives: see HALLAGER (supra n. 11) 116. On ta-ra-si-ja, see Y. DUHOUX, Aspects du vocabulaire économique mycénien (cadastre – artisanat – fiscalité) (1976) 69-115; M.-L. NOSCH, “The Geography of the ta-ra-si-ja Obligation,” Aegean Archaeology 4 (1997-2000) 118; M.-L. NOSCH, “Acquisition and Distribution : ta-ra-si-ja in the Mycenaean Textile Industry,” in C. GILLIS, Chr. RISBERG and B. SJÖBERG (eds), Trade and Production in Premonetary Greece. Acquisition and Distribution of Raw Materials and Finished Products (2000) 42-62; J.T. KILLEN, “Some thoughts on ta-ra-si-ja,” in S. VOUTSAKI and J.T. KILLEN (eds), Economy and Politics in the Mycenaean Palace States (2001) 161-180; M.-L. NOSCH, “More Thoughts on the Mycenaean ta-ra-si-ja System,” in M. PERNA (ed.), Fiscality in Mycenaean and Near Eastern Archives (2006) 161-182. See NOSCH (supra n. 40) 169-171, tab. 1. Chr. BOULOTIS, “Οι πινακίδες γραμμικής A από το Aκροτήρι (THE 7-12): όψεις της οικονομικής ζωής του οικισμού,” in Ακρωτήρι Θήρας: Τριάντα χρόνια έρευνας 1967-1997. Επιστημονική συνάντηση 19-20 Δεκεμβρίου

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record sheep (AB 21f 46) and textiles (AB 54+09 200[) respectively. According to Boulotis it is possible that the sheep’s wool was destined for the production of textiles and that it was spun and woven in the workshops of the same Complex Delta or in those of the neighbouring houses, like e.g. the West House. In the archive of Room Δ18α, however, there are no wool records. Moreover, the animals recorded on THE 7 are not castrated male sheep, as is generally the case in the Mycenaean wool flocks, but ewes. It might, then, have been no direct relationship between the sheep and the textiles recorded on the two tablets.43 On the other hand, it is true that the absence of wool records in the archive could be due to chance. In addition, the number of textiles recorded on THE 8 (at least 200 units) roughly corresponds to the production targets at Knossos, where Lc(1) 536 records a total of 534 cloths produced under the ta-ra-si-ja system. However, the absence of a central structure at Akrotiri tends to suggest that production was differently organized and that, therefore, textiles were produced or acquired with other procedures. In the case of Hagia Triada this difficulty does not exist, since the Villa clearly played the role of administrative centre of a territory. It must be stressed however that the Mycenaean model of ta-ra-si-ja shows characteristics that do not exactly correspond to the above reconstruction. As observed by J.T. Killen, ta-ra-si-ja was a generally decentralized production system, based on a large number of workers of relatively low status, organized into groups and supervised by one or more individuals. The system, which was used to produce textiles, bronze artifacts and chariots, consisted in distributing to each worker small weighed quantities of raw materials to process and return in the form of finished products, a measure that probably had the purpose of avoiding fraud.44 The groups involved in wool processing consisted of women and children who received food rations on a monthly basis.45 It is not clear, however, whether they were full-time or part-time workers nor what their social status was. It is likely moreover that the wool they received was raw wool. Indeed, as noted by M.-L. Nosch, practical experiments tend to suggest that the time needed to spin the amounts of wool recorded in the Knossos Lc tablets – which refer to production targets for cloths – would be too long and in some cases incompatible with the annual ta-ra-si-ja cycle. If instead it is assumed that the recorded quantities were of raw wool, still to be cleaned, washed and combed, these difficulties disappear. Indeed, cleaning and combing, as evidenced by ancient sources and confirmed by practical experiments, reduce the weight of wool by about 50%.46 The Mycenaean ta-ra-si-ja, therefore, probably included all the phases of wool processing, from washing to weaving.47 Some aspects of the Mycenaean ta-ra-si-ja, such as the distribution of small weighed quantities of raw material and the setting of production targets agree with the scenario outlined above for HT 24. To these can be added the calculation of food rations, if it is admitted that the 45 noduli were “dockets”

43

44 45

46

47

1997 (2008) 82, 85-86. THE 7 is badly preserved and THE 8 is no more than a fragment. So it cannot be excluded that these two tablets originally recorded mixed products. See KILLEN (supra n. 40) 164-165, 175. See J.T. KILLEN, “The Textile Industries at Pylos and Knossos,” in C. W. SHELMERDINE and Th.G. PALAIMA (eds), Pylos Comes Alive. Industry + Administration in a Mycenaean Palace (1984) 52, and J. CHADWICK, “The Women of Pylos,” in J.-P. OLIVIER and Th.G. PALAIMA (eds), Studies in Mycenaean Epigraphy and Economy offered to Emmett L. Bennett, Jr. (1988) 43-95. See E. ANDERSSON and M.-L. NOSCH, “With a little help from my friends,” in K.P. FOSTER and R. LAFFINEUR (eds), METRON. Measuring the Aegean Bronze Age (2003) 200-202, and NOSCH (supra n. 40) 172-173. The 2 : 1 ratio between raw wool and wool for spinning is attested in the Ur III texts: see R. FIRTH and M.-L. NOSCH, “Spinning and Weaving Wool in Ur III Administrative Texts,” Journal of Cuneiform Studies 64 (2012) 65-82. If this hypothesis is correct, the standard weights of the Mycenaean cloths identified by Killen (see above n. 25) should be halved (pa-wo 1 = LANA 5/6; tu-na-no 1 = LANA 1 1/2; *164 1 = LANA 3; te-pa 1 = LANA 3 1/2; te-pa pe-ko-to 1 = LANA 5). It is of course possible that scraps were returned together with the finished cloths, but it cannot be excluded that checks were carried out net of a set amount of scraps. This can explain why there are no specific records relating to spinning in Linear B documents: the few records of a-ra-ka-te-ja /ālakateiai/ ‘spinners’ refer to weaving: see KN Lc(1) 531 pa-we-a ko-u-ra *161 TELA1 15[ and tu-na-no TELA1 1.

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intended for the payment of rations, and that rations were expected to be paid to the workshop at the beginning, during or at the end of the work period.48 Other aspects, however, such as the allocation of quantities of raw wool, contrast with the case of Hagia Triada, where it seems that wool was distributed already spun.49 Finally, other aspects such as the composition of the work groups, the possible presence of supervisors or the decentralization of production remain uncertain. Based on such a few elements it is difficult to say whether a system of production similar to the Mycenaean ta-ra-si-ja existed at Hagia Triada in the Neopalatial period. The distribution of spun wool, in any case, does not seem to violate the general principles of the system. Simply, the production cycle appears less complex than the Mycenaean one. The absence of wool flocks in the Hagia Triada documents, on the other hand, suggests that wool was not produced by the Villa, but rather levied as a tax.50 Finally, the possible production of fabrics at Hagia Triada or in its immediate vicinity (see above) does not seem to be a major obstacle to the ta-ra-si-ja hypothesis, since, as noted by Killen, a part of the Knossos ta-ra-si-ja took place in ko-no-so, i.e. near the palace or in its vicinity.51 On the whole, then, the hypothesis that a ta-ra-si-ja-like production system could have existed in the Neopalatial period is not entirely impossible.52 Moreover, such a hypothesis is compatible with the widespread view that in Crete the Mycenaean textile production system partly inherited and reorganized some pre-existing Minoan models.53 It is indeed probable that in Crete the Mycenaean textile industry originated from the acquisition of control over wool flocks and the reorganization of local production systems, with the concentration of the entire production chain in some sites or districts and their subordination to the palace authority.54 48

49

50

51 52 53

54

In this case, it should be admitted that there was a direct relationship between the amounts of wool to be processed and food rations. If this is so, it is possible that the Hagia Triada administration would calculate the rations on the basis of the average amount of wool woven in a day: see the Ur III texts cited by FIRTH and NOSCH (supra n. 46). For example, calculating an average of 300 g per day – an amount compatible with the weaving times hypothesized for the Mycenaean te-pa (33 days for about 10 kg of wool): see A. ULANOWSKA, “The Economics of Weaving: Aspects of Labour in the Bronze Age Aegean”, in K. DROß-KRÜPE (ed.), Textile Trade and Distribution in Antiquity. Textilhandel und -distribution in der Antike (2014) 151) [the working days need to be halved if it is admitted that the standard weight of a tepa was 5 kg (see above n. 46)] – the 135 kg of wool recorded on HT 24 could have been woven in 450 days. In this case, the 45 “dockets” would have been equivalent to 15 monthly rations (to be divided by the number of workers). Apart from the scarcity of traces of spinning at Hagia Triada (see above), confirmation that wool was already spun seems to come from the correspondence between the weight of the wool to process and the weight of the expected fabrics. The transformation from spun wool to woven wool produces in fact few scraps, while, as already mentioned, the passage from raw wool to spun and woven wool produces about 50% of scraps in terms of weight. This implies that, if the wool of HT 24 had been raw, the weight of the fabrics recorded on the verso should have been equal to half the amounts recorded. It cannot be excluded, however, that scraps had also to be returned with the finished textiles (see above n. 46). No Linear A archive seems to register wool flocks. Sheep are recorded in limited numbers with other animals and products. Only the Zakros tablet ZA 22 records 100 sheep – the typical number of sheep of a Mycenaean wool flock – but the animals recorded on the tablet are ewes, not castrated male sheep, as in Mycenaean wool flocks. Moreover, that wool could be requested in the form of yarns is not surprising: compare the Pylos Ma tax records, where the RI commodity – which was measured by weight (M) – was probably ri-no /linon/ ‘linen thread’: see M. PERNA, Recherches sur la fiscalité mycénienne (2004) 51-53. KILLEN (supra n. 40) 164. MONTECCHI (supra n. 14) 201, is sceptical towards such a possibility. See KILLEN (supra n. 45) 60-61; DE FIDIO (supra n. 7) 200; M.E. ALBERTI, “The Minoan Textile Industry and the territory from Neopalatial to Mycenaean times: First Thoughts,” Creta Antica 8 (2007) 259; P. MILITELLO, “Textile Industry and Minoan Palaces,” in C. GILLIS and M.-L. NOSCH (eds), Ancient Textiles: Production, Craft and Society (2007) 44. From this point of view it can be interesting that the LM III levels of the Villa have produced five spindle whorls: see MILITELLO (supra n. 21) 119. According to Militello during the Mycenaean period the evidence for spinning and weaving at Hagia Triada is limited to LM II-IIIA1. Then, starting from LM

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In conclusion, although the above considerations are based on uncertain and limited data, it seems conceivable that the tablet HT 24 registered deliveries of woollen yarn to the Villa (perhaps collected as a tax from local communities) along with the amounts of fabrics to produce with such yarns. In this context, the 45 noduli found nearby could refer to the weighing and allocation of woollen yarns to the textile workshop in charge of the production. Finally, it is possible that at some point the noduli would have been given to the head of the workshop to be exchanged for food rations. This reconstruction seems compatible with the Mycenaean ta-ra-si-ja and suggests that in Crete, as far as the textile production is concerned, that system was partly the result of the reorganization of a pre-existing Minoan system. Maurizio DEL FREO

IIIA2 any evidence of craft activity disappears: MILITELLO (supra n. 21) 256, 265. These elements are however insufficient to say if during the Mycenaean period the Villa had a productive or just a supervising and administrative role.

C. GENDER

IN PURSUIT OF THE GODDESS: NEOLITHIC IMAGERY, MARIJA GIMBUTAS, AND DEBATES IN FEMINISM AND ARCHAEOLOGY8 […] the figurines are a part of Neolithic material that causes me a strange pleasure. A malicious pleasure, because I am certain that they will never reveal to us their secrets and that there will always be many unanswered questions about this secret. This, of course, is the allure of the archaeological material: that it always remains a provocative enigma […] Certainly, nobody prevents us from proposing solutions, attempting interpretations which all together, whether they are correct or not, ultimately make up the history of archaeological thought.1

Introduction The present paper examines the origins and reception of one of the “solutions” and “interpretations” regarding the “provocative enigma” of Neolithic figurines; namely, the Goddess theory, which was formulated by Marija Gimbutas and became popular outside academia, where it remains so despite fierce criticism by the archaeological community. In the discussion that follows, an attempt is made to place figurines in the context of “the history of archaeological thought,” that is, the constant reassessment of perceptions and interpretative choices, dependent on the times and personal trajectories of those who pose the questions and provide the answers. The references in ancient literature to a form of social organization based on maternal descent (a source of women’s overall authority) were interpreted by the post-Enlightenment scholars as echoes of a pan-human evolutionary stage from “primitiveness” to “civilization”: the much-debated, so-called matriarchy.2 The quest for a gynocentric prehistory soon extended well beyond the borders of the academic world, to serve conflicting ends: on the one hand, to legitimize male “order” versus female “chaos”; on the other hand, to exalt a supposed pre-patriarchal harmony that would lend support to diverse contemporary currents and movements, which ranged from socialism and feminism to the cult of nature, mysticism, neo-paganism, or even witchcraft. Founded on an amalgamation of myths, ethnographic accounts, and material remains, this intellectual tradition became established after the mid19th century. The finding of female figurines in a variety of contexts dating from the Late Paleolithic through the Neolithic period dictated the interpretation of such images as religious representations of women’s secular power, in the form of the Nature Goddess whose cult survived as a distant collective memory across space and time – from Europe to the Near East to as far away as India and from the female deities of antiquity to Virgin Mary. The idea of the Goddess remained mainstream in the study of prehistory until the first post-war decades of the 20th century. Vere Gordon Childe’s (self-)sarcastic comment (on the occasion of the 1957 publication of The Eye Goddess by his old friend Osbert Crawford) that “the collection and interpretation of *

1

2

I warmly thank the editors for inviting me to contribute to this volume. Some of the ideas discussed here have previously been included in “Από τη “Θεά της Παλαιάς Ευρώπης” στην αρχαιολογία του φύλου. Η κληρονομιά της Marija Gimbutas,” in Ε. STEFANI, Ν. ΜEROUSIS and Α. DIMOULA (eds), Εκατό χρόνια έρευνας στην προϊστορική Μακεδονία, 1912-2012. Πρακτικά Διεθνούς Συνεδρίου, Αρχαιολογικό Μουσείο Θεσσαλονίκης, 22-24 Νοεμβρίου 2012 (2014) 695-706. Many thanks to the co-author of that paper, Marianna Nikolaidou, for her continuing interest in the subject and for improving the English of this paper. G.Ch. CHOURMOUZIADIS, “Η μικρογραφία του Δισπηλιού ή με αφορμή τα νεολιθικά ειδώλια ενός λιμναίου οικισμού,” Εγνατία 11 (2007) 51-52. Although the term “matriarchy” connotes the reversal of “patriarchy”, it is not used to describe the power of women over men, but rather their equal position or simply the validity of matrilineal descent and/or matrilocal residence.

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mother-goddesses is just a harmless outlet for the sexual impulses of old men,”3 sounds as a prelude to the challenge4 that would follow soon after.5 In the years to come, the female archetype would lose its wide acceptance among archaeologists, while becoming a focal point of reference for the ecofeminist or cultural-spiritual feminist movement, which counterposed the Mother Goddess to the Father God – a revisionist ontology or “thealogy” that would find validation in the work of Marija Gimbutas, the only major figure in the discipline to ignore the shift of opinion (Pl. XIa). The Gendered Cosmology of Opposites as Covert Autobiography Timeline of Marija Gimbutas:6 Born Marija Biruté Alseikaité in Vilnius, Lithuania. After her parents’ separation, she moves to Kaunas with her mother. Studies at Vytautas Magnus University, Kaunas. First Soviet invasion of Lithuania. Transfers to Vilnius University. Relatives and friends of hers are displaced to Siberia. Returns to Kaunas, hides with her mother in the forest, participates in the resistance against the Soviets. 1941 Nazi invasion of Lithuania. 1942 Re-enrolment to Vilnius University, graduation. 1944 Soviet re-occupation. Hides with her husband and baby daughter in the forest. They escape to Austria, then to Germany, stay in refugee camps. 1944-1946 Doctoral dissertation at Tübingen University. 1946-1949 Postdoctoral research at the Universities of Tübingen, Heidelberg, and München. 1949 Migrates with her family to the United States, works as a house help. 1950-1953 Unpaid research associate at Harvard University. Supports herself through a series of menial jobs.

1921 1931 1938-1940 1939-1940

3 4

5

6

V.G. CHILDE, “Valediction,” University of London Bulletin of the Institute of Archaeology 1 (1958) 4. C.E. MORRIS, “From Ideologies of Motherhood to ‘Collecting Mother Goddesses’,” in Y. HAMILAKIS and N. MOMIGLIANO (eds), Archaeology and European Modernity. Producing and Consuming the “Minoans” (2006) 69. P.J. UCKO, Anthropomorphic Figurines of Predynastic Egypt and Neolithic Crete with Comparative Material from the Prehistoric Near East and Mainland Crete (1968); A. FLEMING, “The Myth of the Mother-Goddess,” WorldA 1:2 (1969) 247-261. Detailed biographical information has been published by Gimbutas’ companion of later years, Joan Marler: J. MARLER, “A Vision for the World: The Life and Work of Marija Gimbutas,” Comparative Civilizations Review 33 (1995) 1-20; EADEM, “The Life and Work of Marija Gimbutas,” Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion 12:2 (1996) 37-51, special issue “The Legacy of the Goddess: The Work of Marija Gimbutas,” edited by C.P. CHRIST and N.R. GOLDENBERG; EADEM, “The Circle is Unbroken: A Brief Biography,” in J. MARLER (ed.), From the Realm of the Ancestors. An Anthology in Honor of Marija Gimbutas (1997) 7-25; EADEM, “Marija Gimbutas: Tribute to a Lithuanian Legend,” in S. LAFONT (ed.), Women in Ttransition. Voices from Lithuania (1998) 113-132; EADEM, “The Life and Legacy of Marija Gimbutas,” in S. MAROHN (ed.), Goddess Shift. Women Leading for a Change (2010) 53-59. John Chapman and Ernestine Elster have provided important assessments of Gimbutas’ work from an archaeological point of view: J. CHAPMAN, “The Impact of Modern Invasions and Migrations on Archaeological Explanation: A Biographical Sketch of Marija Gimbutas,” in M. DÍAZ-ANDREU and M.L.S. SØRENSEN (eds), Excavating Women. A History of Women in European Archaeology (1998) 295-314; E.S. ELSTER, “Marija Gimbutas: Setting the Agenda,” in S. HAMILTON, R.D. WHITEHOUSE, and K.I. WRIGHT (eds), Archaeology and Women. Ancient and Modern Issues (2007) 83-120; EADEM, “In Memoriam: Marija Gimbutas: Old Europe, Goddesses and Gods, and the Transformation of Culture,” Backdirt (2015) 94-102 [https://ioa.ucla.edu/sites/default/files/2015_backdirt. pdf]. Sarunas Milisauskas has focused on her childhood and early youth years: S. MILISAUSKAS, “Marija Gimbutas: Some Observations about Her Early Years, 1921-1944,” Antiquity 74:286 (2000) 800-804. I have not been able to consult a recent monograph by Anna Riboldi: A. RIBOLDI, Al cuore dell’Europa. Una rilettura dell’opera di Marija Gimbutas (2015).

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1953-1962 Paid research associate and only female archaeologist at Harvard; subject to Ivy League snobbery and gender discrimination. 1962-1963 Research fellow at Stanford University. 1963-1964 Associate professor at the University of California, Los Angeles. 1964-1989 Full professor at UCLA. 1993 Honorary doctorate from Vytautas Magnus University. 1994 Dies in Los Angeles. Her ashes are returned to Kaunas and interred beside her mother. From the Indo-Europeans to the Goddess of Old Europe Α charismatic, erudite, and prolific scholar, Gimbutas published more than twenty monographs and hundreds of papers, chapters, and book reviews.7 She devoted the last two decades of her life to the investigation of Neolithic imagery, by integrating archaeology with mythology, folklore, linguistics, and ancient history in what she coined as “archaeomythology”:8 an endeavor originating in the time of her studies in Lithuania and culminating in a longue dureé synthesis of the Goddess religion as the “cohesive and persistent ideological system” of early farming societies.9 Based on the excavations conducted by herself,10 as well as on field studies in numerous Balkan and eastern European museums, she interpreted the representations in various categories of the archaeological record (figurines, pottery, house models, grave goods) as a complex communication system or an ideogrammatic depiction of the “language of the Goddess” (Pl. XIb). Despite her close collaboration with natural science specialists,11 she remained convinced that disciplinary segmentation and strict empiricism are responsible for turning archaeologists from “visionaries” into “technicians”.12 Although processual archaeologists did acknowledge the significance of what Lewis Binford termed “ideotechnic artifacts”,13 they, in fact, assumed that the study of the symbolic aspects of material culture was incompatible with quantifiable methods, modeled after the natural sciences, which emphasized the techno-economic infrastructures of past societies. Diametrically opposed to narrow-minded scientism, Gimbutas believed that what may seem unidentifiable can be detected through a broad-ranging vision and intuition for prehistory: “secular and sacred life in those days were one and indivisible. By ignoring the religious aspects of Neolithic life, we neglect the totality of culture.”14 She shifted to the “decipherment” of the Neolithic “proto-script” after long and productive research on eastern European prehistory and on the origin of Indo-European languages, which she attributed to a common Proto-Indo-European tongue spoken by pastoral, patriarchal tribes from the steppes of southern Russia; the horse-riding nomads who began to raid the Balkans and from there the rest of Europe, towards the end of the 5th millennium B.C. (Pl. XIIa). But who were the indigenous inhabitants? In her words, “I came to a point when I had to understand what was happening in Europe before the arrival of the Indo-Europeans. […] During my excavations I became aware that a culture existed that was the 7

8

9 10

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13 14

For her bibliography, see R. ANDRAŠIŪNAITĖ-STRAKŠIENĖ (ed.), Marija Gimbutienė. Bibliografinė rodyklė, 1938–1995 (1995); J. MARLER, “Bibliography of Marija Gimbutas,” in MARLER ed. (supra n. 6) 609-624; E.C. POLOMÉ, “Marija Gimbutas: A Biographical Sketch,” in S.N. SKOMAL and E.C. POLOMÉ (eds), Proto-Indo-European. The Archaeology of a Linguistic Problem. Studies in Honor of Marija Gimbutas (1997) 375-383. M. GIMBUTAS, The Language of the Goddess. Unearthing the Hidden Symbols of Western Civilization (1989) xv; EADEM, The Civilization of the Goddess. The World of Old Europe, edited by J. Marler (1991) viii. GIMBUTAS 1991 (supra n. 8) x. At Obre, Bosnia (1967-1968), Sitagroi, Greece (1968-1970), Anza, North Macedonia (1969-1970), Achilleion, Greece (1973-1974), and Scaloria, Italy (1978-1979). ELSTER 2007 (supra n. 6) 94-95, 99, 103-104; 2015 (supra n. 6) 97; interview in KOKKINIDOU and NIKOLAIDOU (supra title footnote) 702. M. GIMBUTAS, “Implications of The Chalice and the Blade for the Relation of Archaeology to Social Science,” World Futures 25:3/4 (1988) 289. L.R. BINFORD, “Archaeology as Anthropology,” American Antiquity 28:2 (1962) 219-220. GIMBUTAS 1991 (supra n. 8) viii.

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opposite of all that was known to be Indo-European. So, this led me to coin the new term “Old Europe” in 1968.”15 In the Old Europe of egalitarianism, peace and prosperity, she would seek “deliverance” from the “misery” caused to her by the invaders.16 The Goddess, one and many at the same time, a giver of life, death and regeneration, epitomized the ontology of Neolithic people. The exaltation of female sacredness was not confined to fertility but encompassed all aspects of social life, to indicate the harmony between humans and nature and between the sexes. After the catastrophe, the old belief system survived as “a strong undercurrent that influenced the development of Western civilization” until as late as the mid-20th century, when it eventually disappeared “with the infiltration of technology and political upheavals.”17 Her richly illustrated monographs on Neolithic religion saw great success among non-archaeologists and were translated into various languages. In the first edition of The Gods and Goddesses of Old Europe, the publisher did not allow the word “Goddesses” to be first in the title, although most of the book’s imagery is female.18 In the second edition, the title was reversed to reflect the author’s initial intention to stress the precedence of the female over the male element, which had been confirmed by new discoveries during the interval of the two editions, as she writes in the preface.19 Had the book appeared some years earlier, it might have passed unnoticed; however, it coincided with the rise of the women’s spirituality movement that had emerged from the popular uprisings during the era of the Vietnam War.20 Thus, Gimbutas’ ideas attracted unexpected support from a broad lay audience, mainly American, which found in them what it sought: the “proof” that women were much better off When God Was a Woman – this was the title of Merlin Stone’s famous book of 1976 – than they were in later periods and in the contemporary era. Her theory soon became a source of inspiration for a variety of projects, including writing and artistic creation, an industry of ritual paraphernalia, and pilgrimages to places allegedly associated with the Goddess veneration (for example, Çatalhöyük, Crete, Malta) (Pls XIIb and XIIIa). The Language of the Goddess, The Civilization of the Goddess and The Living Goddesses were received with equal enthusiasm. In his foreword to the The Language of the Goddess, the mythologist Joseph Campbell compared the significance of the decipherment of Neolithic symbolism with the significance of the decipherment of Egyptian hieroglyphics;21 the anthropologist Ashley Montagu drew parallels with the importance of the discovery of Troy.22 In the same laudatory vein, the Goddess feminists described Gimbutas as “an intellectual giant”23 and as one of the most important 20th-century thinkers, who would have occupied a prominent place in the history of ideas had she been a man.24 The Background to the Goddess Theory Ronald Hutton argues that Gimbutas’ notion of a woman-centered prehistory was encouraged by her close collaboration with prehistorians from the then Eastern Bloc, upon whose work she depended for much of her material and whose approaches were heavily informed by Friedrich Engels’ The Origin of the Family, Private Property, and the State (1884) – in a sense, the Marxist version of Johan Jacob Bachofen’s Das 15 16

17 18

19

20 21 22 23

24

Cited by MARLER 1995 (supra n. 6) 9. J. LESLIE, “The Goddess Theory: Controversial UCLA Archaeologist Marija Gimbutas Argues That the World Was at Peace When God Was a Woman,” Los Angeles Times Magazine (11 June 1989) 22. M. GIMBUTAS, The Living Goddesses, edited by M.R. Dexter (1999) 129, 213. M. GIMBUTAS, The Gods and Goddesses of Old Europe 7000 to 3500 B.C. Myths, Legends and Cult Images (1974). M. GIMBUTAS, The Goddesses and Gods of Old Europe 7000 to 3500 B.C. Myths, Legends and Cult Images (1982) 9. C.P. CHRIST, “Reading Marija Gimbutas,” NSWA Journal 12:1 (2000) 169. GIMBUTAS 1989 (supra n. 8) xiii. Cited by MARLER 1995 (supra n. 6) 1-2; 1997 (supra n. 6) 7; 1998 (supra n. 6) 114. M. RIGOGLIOSO, “The Disappearing of the Goddess and Gimbutas: A Critical Review of The Goddess and the Bull,” Journal of Archaeomythology 3 (2007) 95 [https://www.archaeomythology.org/ publications/the-journal-of-archaeomythology/2007-volume-3/]. CHRIST (supra n. 20) 173; N.R. GOLDENBERG, “Memories of Marija Gimbutas and the King’s Archaeologist,” in CHRIST and GOLDENBERG eds (supra n. 6) 70.

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Mutterrecht (1861).25 Indeed, she remained the foremost Western expert in eastern European prehistory, including the prehistory of her native country, with which she maintained close ties despite the Cold War. A firm anti-communist, committed to Lithuanian independence – which she eventually had the joy of seeing a few years before her death –, she supported her compatriots who fled to the United States,26 while her books and lecture transcripts were illegally circulated at home27 as sources of information about the Lithuanian tradition that was suppressed by sovietization.28 John Chapman traces the origin of her ideas in her Ph.D. years at Tübingen University, where there was a pre-war research tradition on the Aryans; she would have been exposed to the importance of Aryan migrations and invasions, just at the time when she and her family were suffering the consequences of such violent movements. Also, he assumes that Bachofen’s legacy of the idea of primordial female authority remained part of the intellectual currency at Tübingen during her research there. Finally, he associates the shift of her academic interests, from the Indo-Europeans to the Goddess, with her entering menopause some time in the 1960s: she began to write most vividly about regeneration symbolism at a time when she was losing her own fertility and her own children left home.29 This is, however, a problematic explanation, because it identifies biological reproduction with traditional roles, which hardly fit a pioneer woman raised with strong models of female emancipation and achievement – first of all, her own mother.30 Chapman’s comparison of the idyllic world of Old Europe to the idyllic world of young Gimbutas, where the love of her family and people’s love for nature were prevalent, is much more convincing.31 Born to a privileged, educated family, she was at the same time schooled in folk wisdom: her physician parents were lovers of art, history, and ethnography, and the women helping in her home or around the farms of her grandparents were believers in goddesses and taught her folk songs, which she adored.32 The separation of her parents when she was ten years old, meant the end of her childhood; but it was the death of her father, five years later, that would leave her devastated. Influenced by him, she decided to devote herself to the study of Lithuanian culture,33 in particular, to the study of “ancient religion, which is incarnate in the cosmic and lyrical conception of the world of present-day Lithuanians.”34 She believed that the Lithuanian language is distinct, in that it has preserved many archaic elements as compared to other languages of the Indo-European family. These survivals are related to the country’s geographical position, away from the crossroads of large populations movements, as well as to the strong mythological substratum of oral tradition. Christianity arrived late in Lithuania, towards the end of the 14th century, and the older beliefs persisted as late as the 20th century; thus, she explains, “The popular religion slowly developed into a ‘double faith,’ as Lithuanian folklore maintained its pagan foundations and remained faithful to its roots deep in prehistory.”35 At the primordial core of Baltic religion lies the Great Mother: “All life comes from her: humans, plants, animals. […] Man is born of the 25 26

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29 30 31 32 33 34 35

R. HUTTON, “The Neolithic Great Goddess: A Study in Modern Tradition,” Antiquity 71:271 (1997) 97. L. DONSKIS, Loyalty, Dissent, and Betrayal. Modern Lithuania and East-Central European Moral Imagination (2005) 52. MARLER 1995 (supra n. 6) 6; V. ČIUBRINSKAS, “Identity and the Revival of Tradition in Lithuania: An Insider’s View,” Folk 40 (2000) 32. ČIUBRINSKAS (supra n. 27); G. MAŽEIKIS, “Challenge of Imagined Societies for Political Anthropology in Lithuania,” Acta Historica Universitatis Klaipedensis 13. Studia Anthropologica 2 (2006) 57-69 [http://briai.ku.lt/downloads/AHUK_13/13_057-069_Mazeikis.pdf]; O. RUDLING, “The Cult of the Balts: Mythological Impulses and Neo-pagan Practices in the Touristic Clubs of the Lithuanian SSR of the 1960s and 1970s,”1Region 6:1 (2017) 87-108. CHAPMAN (supra n. 6) 310. ELSTER 2007 (supra n. 6) 85, 87. CHAPMAN (supra n. 6) 298. CHAPMAN (supra n. 6) 298; ELSTER 2007 (supra n. 6) 85-86. ELSTER 2007 (supra n. 6) 86-87; MARLER 1996 (supra n. 6) 39. M. GIMBUTAS, The Balts (1963) 204. M. GIMBUTAS, “Introduction: The Antiquity of the Daina,” in A. LANDSBERGIS and C. MILLS (eds), The Green Linden. Selected Lithuanian Folksongs (1964) 17.

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earth; babies emerge from springs, pools, swamps, trees or hillocks”.36 The elaboration of the notion of the Lithuanian Great Goddess would set the scene for Gimbutas’ later vision of a pan-European, preChristian religion. By “translating” the “language” of the Goddess, she would return to her childhood. In the destruction of Old Europe, she would seek utopia: the study of the “evil” (the Indo-European conquerors) is succeeded by the study of the “good” (the conquered natives)37 – a reversal of the story of biblical Eden, where paradise is first lost and then regained, and it is men that now commit the original sin. The War Chapman notes that Gimbutas considered Hitler’s Germany as a lesser evil compared to Stalin’s Soviet Union, although it is difficult to assess the degree to which this conceals sympathy for Nazism; suffice to say, he adds, that she succeeded in completing her studies and in receiving her degree during the German occupation. He also points to the parallel which can be drawn between the Indo-European advance and the Red Army advance towards southeastern Europe.38 Like Gimbutas, many archaeologists had their lives shattered by the war: some of them died on the front, others were persecuted or killed by the forces occupying their homelands, many were forced into exile;39 those who survived would reflect their experiences in their work, each in their own way. In the case of Gimbutas, the impact of such events is expressed through the metaphor of the Indo-Europeans, representing the Soviet Union, and Old Europe, representing Lithuania – a powerless country that repeatedly witnessed foreign rule: Russian (1795-1915), German (1915-1918, 1941-1944), and Soviet (1939-1941, 1944-1990). During the war, the Baltic countries were invaded first by the Soviets, then by the Germans and again by the Soviets. The arrival of the Red Army resulted in a wave of flight to escape extensive arrests, mass killings, or displacement to Siberia. When the Nazis attacked the Soviet Union, Gimbutas and members of her family briefly joined the anti-Soviet revolt with the aim of national self-determination, which was not to be finally achieved. The following German occupation was even more atrocious, including the forcible movement of thousands of people to Germany for use as slave labor or conscription into the German army. However, the largest number of Balts fled their countries when the Red Army counter-offensive began. The brutality of the previous Soviet occupation led 60.000 Estonians, 140.000 Latvians, and 50.000 Lithuanians to choose the uncertain future of being exiled over the certain future of being killed or displaced to the Siberian camps. Some 45.000 made their way to Sweden and Denmark across the Baltic Sea, while the majority, including Gimbutas and her family, followed the only available land route to the west, through Poland and Czechoslovakia to Austria and Germany. If we add to the above figures those who had already fled, we can estimate the number of refugees at approximately 80.000 Estonians, 160.000 Latvians and 65.000 Lithuanians – a substantial portion of the total population at that time (1,1 million in Estonia, 1,9 million in Latvia and 2,5 in Lithuania) – with more than 10% of the displaced persons coming from the educated social strata. After the end of the war, most of the refugees migrated to Australia, Canada, the United Kingdom, and the United States.40 Life Experience, Writing, and Allegory Mikhail Bakhtin defines as a chronotope the “intrinsic connectedness of temporal and spatial relationships that are artistically expressed in literature.”41 As in the human perception of everyday reality, 36 37 38 39

40

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GIMBUTAS (supra n. 34) 191-192. CHAPMAN (supra n. 6) 307. CHAPMAN (supra n. 6) 299, 308-309, figs 14:3A-B. S. MILISAUSKAS, “Historical Observations on European Archaeology,” in S. MILISAUSKAS (ed.), European Prehistory. A Survey (2011) 11. M. TAMM, “Displaced History? A New ‘Regime of Historicity’ among the Baltic Historians in Exile (1940s–1960s),” Storia della Storiografia 69:1 (2016) 131-132. M.M. BAKHTIN, “Forms of Time and of the Chronotope in the Novel,” in M.M. BAKHTIN, The Dialogic

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narrative time and space are fundamentally united and the textual image of the world is shaped by the reader’s preconceived notions. As such, narration is not merely a sequence of diegetic elements, but also a construction of a particular fictional universe or chronotope. A special “chronotope of exile” can be discerned in the post-war novels written by Baltic refugees: temporal categories, causality, and continuity are re-articulated to create an oxymoron which is composed, on the one hand, by the attachment to the home one has left and, on the other, by the search for a new one.42 By analogy, we may speak of a “historiography of exile” or, to employ François Hartog’s term, a new “regime of historicity.”43 In this new conception of temporal order, the Baltic historians in exile tend to compensate the absence of spatial coordinates by temporal ones, resorting to the past to make sense of the present. This valorization of the past to give meaning to the present and to envisage the future is characterized by an impressive number of studies (indeed, more historiographical works were produced in exile than at home) and an even more impressive number of autobiographical writings. The emphasis on the past reflects an attempt to find new pillars of support for the present and new visions for the future. It is, therefore, not paradoxical that the prime concern is to explain the loss of national independence, especially if we bear in mind the need to rebut the Soviet version of events. But, if one way of coming to terms with what had happened was through elaborating memory, another was through exploring origins: the aim was to acquire a new sense of belonging and answer the very question of where the cultural roots should be looked for – in the West or in the East. It is in this quest for a new identity that prehistory intersects with recent history, and the writing of both in exile becomes a vehicle for writing about trauma.44 Such an intersection is exemplified by Gimbutas’ Old Europe. According to her compatriot philosopher Arvydas Šliogeris, a distinct feature of Lithuanian culture is “philotopy”, namely, the existential experience stemming from the love for a place, (usually one’s closest environment) where one is born and raised or permanently settled; this love dictates the way of viewing the world. In this sense, Old Europe can be read as a “philotopical allegory,”45 a “metaphysics of the homeland,”46 or an archaeological chronotope where archaeological stratigraphies are interwoven with life stratigraphies. In her interviews, Gimbutas often recounted the scene of her flight: she was carrying what was most precious to her, her baby daughter in one hand and her master’s dissertation in the other (Pl. XIIIb). The success of this escape through war-torn Europe would have reinforced her self-confidence and maternal feelings, but it would also have revealed to her that the paranoia of war is almost exclusively associated with the “male psyche.”47 Arguing that certain symbols of the peace-loving civilization of the Goddess “could have disappeared only with the total extermination of the female population,” she denounces femicides throughout the centuries. Echoing Margaret Murray’s view that the witches persecuted in early modern Europe were actually secret followers of an ancient pagan cult,48 she describes the witch hunt as “a most satanic event in European history in the name of Christ” and as “the beginning of the dangerous convulsions of androcratic rule, which 460 years later reached the peak in Stalin’s East Europe.” Nonetheless, “Memories of a long-lasting gynocentric past could not be erased”, she continues, “and it is not surprising that the feminine principle plays a formidable role in the subconscious dream and fantasy world. It remains (in Jungian terminology) ‘the repository of human experience’ and a ‘depth structure’. To an archeologist it is an extensively documented historical reality.”49

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Imagination. Four Essays, edited by M. Holquist, translated by. C. Emerson and M. Holquist (1981) 84. J. ROZĪTIS, Displaced Literature. Images of Time and Space in Latvian Novels Depicting the First Years of the Latvian Postwar Exile (2005) 24, 259. F. HARTOG, Regimes of Historicity. Presentism and Experiences of Time, translated by S. Brown (2015). On Baltic historians in exile, see TAMM (supra n. 40). N. KARDELIS and J. KUČINKAS, “The Wisdom of Place: The Essence, Origins, and Modes. Lithuanian Philosophical Philotopy of Arvydas Šliogeris,” Journal of General Philosophy 2:2 (2016) 17-28. DONSKIS (supra n. 26) 27. CHAPMAN (supra n. 6) 299. M. A. MURRAY, The Witch-Cult in Western Europe. A Study in Anthropology (1921); EADEM, The God of the Witches (1931). GIMBUTAS 1989 (supra n. 8) 318–320.

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No doubt, male violence is widely attested in historically recorded periods, although its absence, as well as its presence, in pre-literate societies is much more difficult to document. However, Gimbutas was confident in her reconstruction of a non-violent past, and it was precisely this confidence that caused strong reaction: her fellow archaeologists severely criticized her belief in a powerful Neolithic Goddess, for uncritically selecting data regardless of era or region, or context, for replacing reasoned arguments with predetermined assertions, and for ignoring alternative explanations. The Controversy One of the effects of World War II on archaeological thinking was to discredit ethnic and linguistic models, because they had been exploited by Nazis; Gustaf Kossinna’s Kulturkreis theory, of Proto-European Aryans spreading outwards from a northern German homeland into the wider world, is an archetypical example of archaeological justification of racism. After the war, migration theories became particularly unpopular in Britain and in the United Sates – perhaps not coincidentally, in precisely the countries that were not invaded. On the other hand, the lives of archaeologists from continental Europe had been marked much more strongly by the consequences of invasions. Gimbutas is the best-known example of the impact that such traumatic experiences can have on archaeological explanation, and the only well-known Western proponent of migrations until the 1980s, when scholarly interest was again revived because of new population movements towards “Fortress-Europe.”50 After Kossinna’s theory was disowned, prehistorians who were still interested in Indo-European origins turned to Childe’s The Aryans. Childe, who relied heavily on Kossinna’s cultural-historical method after removing its racist content, proposed southern Russia as a possible Indo-European homeland.51 His view was further elaborated by Gimbutas. Kossinna, Childe, and Gimbutas agreed in that they presented an image of migrating Aryans who imposed themselves upon the indigenes. Childe and Gimbutas disagreed with Kossinna over the location of the homeland, and Gimbutas disagreed with Kossinna over the nature of the invading and the invaded cultures; for Kossinna, the invaders were “heroic crusaders bringing culture to the primitives,” whereas for her they were “uncivilized herders bringing patriarchal violence to a world of peace and equality.”52 This dispute represents Gimbutas’ groundbreaking, albeit controversial, contribution to archaeological explanation of culture change, namely, the association of the transformation of social relations with the transformation of gender relations (Pl. XIIIc). Most academic reviewers welcomed The Gods and Goddesses of Old Europe, which came from a renowned scholar with thorough knowledge of an extremely large body of data, excellent synthesis skills, and mastery of several eastern European languages – which afforded her access to literature that most Western archaeologists were unable to read.53 Reviews became increasingly critical towards the second edition of the book; it was felt that the author’s academic prestige was not enough reason to modify existing opposing views regarding the alleged gynocentric nature of Neolithic societies and the violent transition to the Bronze Age.54 The idea of an all-encompassing Goddess religion at the root of European

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CHAPMAN (supra n. 6) 311. V.G. CHILDE, The Aryans. A Study of Indo-European Origins (1926) 183-206. D. W. ANTHONY, “Nazi and Εco-feminist Prehistories: Ideology and Empiricism in Indo-European Archaeology,” in P.L. KOHL and C. FAWCETT (eds), Nationalism, Politics, and the Practice of Archaeology (1996) 92. Reviews of The Gods and Goddesses of Old Europe:
P. PHILIPS, Man 9:4 (1974) 636; R.K. EVANS, Anthropological Quarterly 48:1 (1975) 59-61; J.D. MUHLY, American Historical Review 80:3 (1975) 616-617; M. ELIADE, History of Religions 16:2 (1976) 178-185; H.L. THOMAS, American Anthropologist 78:2 (1976) 464; M.H. MORRIS, Journal of the American Academy of Religion 46:2 (1978) 252; contra A. FLEMING, Antiquity 48:191 (1974) 246; E.C. BANKS, AJA 79:2 (1975) 156-157; S. DIAMANT, Classical World 70:1 (1976) 48-49. Reviews of The Goddesses and Gods of Old Europe: A. SHERRAT, Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 48 (1982) 537-538; Μ. LEFKOWITZ, The New Republic (3 August 1992) 29-33.

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civilization, which was fully developed in the subsequent goddess volumes, was dismissed by archaeologists.55 Gimbutas was an internationally recognized scholar in the late stage of her career, who neither threatened nor was threatened by the male disciplinary establishment.56 The same was not true, however, for feminist archaeologists, who found themselves “between rock and a hard place”; between the need to defend the appropriateness of gender questions in the discipline and the need to distance themselves from contentious approaches. 57 The warning was clear: “the stakes are high, for the credibility of the archaeology of gender depends on fine-grained scientific research, not on subjective impressions, however brilliant”.58 Thus, the advocates of the then emerging feminist archaeology invested considerable effort in discouraging any connection between their own work and Gimbutas’ visionary narrative, by credibly criticizing her for essentialism, unsubstantiated generalizations, methodological inefficiency, and interpretative eclecticism. 59 Nevertheless, in their attempt to debunk her theory, they resorted to oversimplification – if not deliberate distortion – of her writings. Such misrepresentation is typically exemplified by the repeated references to her as a “matriarchalist,” despite the fact that she herself clearly avoided using the term “matriarchal” to describe pre-Indo-European cultures; opting instead for other alternative terms, such as “matrifocal” or “matrilineal” or “matristic,”60 or for Riane Eisler’s neologism “gylanic.”61 Her critics treated her “as something of a traitor to the profession”, responsible for the “hijacking of figurines for purposes other than academic archaeological study,”62 and set her up as a

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Critical reviews of The Language of the Goddess: A. SHERRATT, Antiquaries Journal 69:2 (1989) 345-346; C. RENFREW, Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 57:2 (1991) 222-223; W. BARNETT, AJA 96:1 (1992) 170171; LEFKOWITZ (supra n. 54); contra A. DUNDZILA, Journal of Baltic Studies 21:4 (1990) 375-376; M. O’SULLIVAN, Journal of the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland 121 (1991) 175-176. Critical reviews of The Civilization of the Goddess: B. FAGAN, Archaeology 45:2 (1992) 16-18, 66; R. TRINGHAM, American Anthropologist 95:1 (1993) 196-197; contra M. HERITY, Journal of the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland 122 (1992) 165-167; J. YAKAR, Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 292 (1993) 122-124. S. BROWN, “Feminist Research in Archaeology: What Does It Mean? Why Is It Taking So Long?,” in N.S. RABINOWITZ and A. RICHLIN (eds), Feminist Theory and the Classics (1993) 256. R. R. RUETHER, Goddesses and the Divine Feminine. A Western Religious History (2005) 36-37. B. FAGAN, “Great Goddess Flap: Brian Fagan Responds”, Archaeology 45:4 (1992) 11. M.W. CONKEY and R.E. TRINGHAM, “Archaeology and the Goddess: Exploring the Contours of Feminist Archaeology,” in D.C. STANTON and A.J. STEWART (eds), Feminisms in the Academy (1995) 199247; L. MESKELL, “Goddesses, Gimbutas and ‘New Age’ Archaeology,” Antiquity 69:262 (1995) 74-87; EADEM, “Oh Μy Goddess! Archaeology, Sexuality and Ecofeminism,” Archaeological Dialogues 5:2 (1998) 126-142; EADEM, “That’s Capital M, Capital G,” in M. CASEY, M.D. DONLON, J. HOPE, and S. WELLFARE (eds), Redefining Archaeology. Feminist Perspectives. Proceedings of the Third Australian Women in Archaeology Conference (1998) 147-153; EADEM, “Feminism, Paganism, Pluralism,” in A. GAZINSCHWARTZ and C. HOLTORF (eds), Archaeology and Folklore (1999) 80-86; EADEM, “Denaturalizing Gender in Prehistory,” in S. MCKINNON and S. SILVERMAN (eds), Complexities. Beyond Nature and Nurture (2005) 157-175; L.E. TALALAY, “A Feminist Boomerang: The Great Goddess of Greek Prehistory,” Gender and History 6:2 (1994) 165-183; EADEM, “Archaeological Ms.conceptions: Contemplating Gender and Power in the Greek Neolithic,” in M. DONALD and L. HURCOMBE (eds), Representations of Gender from Prehistory to the Present (2000) 3-16; R.E. TRINGHAM and M.W. CONKEY, “Rethinking Figurines: A Critical View from Archaeology of Gimbutas, the ‘Goddess’, and Popular Culture,” in L. GOODISON and C. MORRIS (eds), Ancient Goddesses. Τhe Myths and the Evidence (1998) 22-45; see also critical reviews of The Living Goddesses: S. DEACY, ClRev 50:2 (2000), 617-618; L. MESKELL, Cambridge Archaeological Journal 10:2 (2000) 370-372; L.E. TALALAY, Bryn Mawr Classical Review (5 October 1999) [http://bmcr. brynmawr.edu/1999/1999-10-05.html]; EADEM, AJA 104:4 (2000) 789-792; R.D. WHITEHOUSE, Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute 6:2 (2000) 328-329. C. SPRETNAK, “Anatomy of a Backlash: Concerning the Work of Marija Gimbutas,” Journal of Archaeomythology 7 (2011) 1-27, special issue “In Honor of Marija Gimbutas,” edited by J. MARLER [https://www.archaeomythology.org/publications/the-journal-of-archaeomythology/2011-volume-7/]. R. EISLER, The Chalice and the Blade. Our History, Our Future (1987) 105. N. HAMILTON, “The Personal Is Political,” Cambridge Archaeological Journal 6:2 (1996), 284.

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“straw woman”, while they themselves expressed equally political views to strengthen their own professional standing.63 This rather cynical observation may account for the harshness of criticism. In what may be paralleled to an “argument with ghosts,”64 Lynn Meskell accused Gimbutas of taking advantage of feminism to sell her books.65 In a review of The Living Goddesses (published posthumously), the same critic even seems to question the right of “ghosts” to publish their work: “Why did we need another volume repeating everything that she had published before? Why did University of California Press consider this an academic work worth publishing? Was there no review by a relevant archaeologist?”66 One might wonder why such an accusation should only apply to Gimbutas, when reusing one’s own views in print is a commonly accepted academic practice – her critics included. And why did not feminist archaeologists try to address broader audiences that would be interested in being informed of their counter-arguments? The answer is provided by Meskell herself: in the academic environment, disseminating knowledge to the general public holds little value.67 This is perhaps the reason why Gimbutas’ panorama of the European Neolithic has not as yet been replaced by an alternative feminist synthesis, twenty-five years after her death. Between total rejection and total acceptance, there was very little space left for more dispassionate evaluations of her work.68 If for feminist archaeologists Old Europe is an unscholarly construct, for Goddess feminists it is the chronological and, above all, moral revision of Western civilization, a “road map” for changing the present: in the beginning everything was ideal, then catastrophe came, but justice will prevail once again. The only point of convergence between the two sides resides in acknowledging the need to materialize this goal; nevertheless, Gimbutas’ critics strongly object to the means of materialization, that is, the recreation of an idealized past in the service of a contemporary agenda – even a feminist one. By contrast, her adherents are mostly concerned in reclaiming women’s “close relationship with the divine […] however that divine is envisaged”.69 Some of them do share Gimbutas’ belief that Neolithic societies were female-centered, whereas others consider historical veracity less important than Monique Wittig’s advice: “Make an effort to remember. Or, failing that, invent”.70 In other words, the Goddess acts as a liberating fantasy symbol, psychologically equivalent to verifiable evidence, insofar as it contributes to achieving a better future for women.71 Gimbutas remained unaffected by any differing opinion on her archaeomythological claims, choosing instead the new and respectful audience of ecofeminists, folklorists, mythologists, and artists. Indeed, in the last years of her life, her attitude towards professional dissent changed completely: earlier on, when her fellow scholars disagreed with her on Indo-European issues, she defended her positions in an appropriate academic fashion, pointing out the critics’ errors and presenting new evidence and arguments; but as regards Old Europe, she not only believed her challengers to be wrong, but also guilty of personal rivalry. Such an uncomfortable interpretation of criticism left her rather vulnerable, and thus incapable of

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K. ROUNTREE, “The Past is a Foreigner’s Country: Goddess Feminists, Archaeologists, and the Appropriation of the Past,” Journal of Contemporary Religion 16:1 (2001) 11-12. Phrase used by Chris Gosden to describe posthumous critiques of Childe’s work: C. GOSDEN, “Review of David R. Harris (ed.), The Archaeology of V. Gordon Childe. Contemporary Perspectives, 1994, Chicago: The University of Chicago Press,” Antiquity 69:263 (1995) 419. MESKELL 1999 (supra n. 59) 83. MESKELL 2000 (supra n. 59) 370. MESKELL 1999 (supra n. 59) 81-82. CHAPMAN (supra n. 6); ELSTER (supra n. 6). A. LONG, “The One and the Many: The Great Goddess Revisited,” Feminist Theology 5:15 (1997) 22, 25. M. WITTIG, Les guérrillères, translated by D. LeVay (1971) 89. N.R. GOLDENBERG, Changing of the Gods. Feminism and the End of Traditional Religions (1979) 89; STARHAWK, The Spiral Dance. A Rebirth of the Ancient Religion of the Great Goddess (1979) 81; C.P. CHRIST, Laughter of Aphrodite. Reflections on a Journey to the Goddess (1987) 121; H. EILBERG-SCHWARTZ, “Witches of the West: Neopaganism and Goddess Worship as Enlightenment Religions,” Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion 5:1 (1989) 90; T. PASSMAN, “Out of the Closet and into the Field: Matriculture, the Lesbian Perspective, and Feminist Classics,” in RABINOWITZ and RICHLIN eds (supra n. 56) 182.

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resisting the admiration from the Goddess groups72 – “an incredible gift coming late in life,” as she described it, although she had never declared herself a feminist or thought she could help feminists.73 The help was reciprocal, and not only ideological, as her new friends in the women’s spirituality movement supported her throughout her long struggle with cancer.74 Probably as a result of her deteriorating health condition, her discourse gradually acquired a Messianic content, with the Goddess in the role of the Savior: “We must refocus our collective memory. The necessity for this has never been greater as we discover that the path of ‘progress’ is extinguishing the very conditions for life on earth.”75 In an interview she gave a few months before her death, she concludes with the same tone of revelation: “We have come to the end of the world. We need to build a healthier and more balanced society in which men and women will have the same rights. The same applies to ecology. We must try to restore the balance of earth. For all these things we have a lot to learn from the civilization of Old Europe. I very much hope that we will succeed.”76 Evaluation Some thirty years ago Shelby Brown aptly remarked that, although many see Gimbutas’ work as archaeology’s major contribution to feminism, this contribution has hardly been recognized within the field77 – a comment still valid to date.78 If the distance of time allows for a more temperate evaluation, it should not be forgotten that the Goddess theory (like any intellectual enterprise) is inscribed in a specific historical context and that its proponent could not but be a product of her era, background, and personal experiences. The United States has long been seen as a land of unlimited opportunities, a place where everything is possible if one is prepared to work hard. Nonetheless, as is well known, the migrant adventure is not always successful, and the fate of Gimbutas represents an exception rather than the rule of such adventure. Besides, she never saw herself as an oppressed migrant, willing to renounce her roots in order to facilitate her integration in the host country; on the contrary, she never ceased to feel proud of her Lithuanian heritage which, in reality, shaped her intellectual development.79 Through the profound study of what she called “the pantheon of Old Europe,” she linked gender to culture change, thereby emphasizing women’s ability to rise above the male symbolic order and reclaim intellectual autonomy. Even though specialists refuse to recognize her as “an intellectual ancestor”, it was she who stimulated the development of figurine studies and, by extent, the archaeological investigation of women.80 “Celebration of life is the leading motif in Old European ideology and art,” she writes.81 This celebration reappears today as one of the analytical categories of feminist archaeology, the so-called maintenance activities: a set of practices that are crucial to the survival and coherence of a given community, but have traditionally been neglected because they were carried out by women.82 Most theories by “great” male archaeologists have nowadays been abandoned; nevertheless, they are treated much more leniently in the literature, and their male proponents continue to figure more 72 73 74

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79 80 81 82

ELSTER 2007 (supra n. 6) 100, 106; 2015 (supra n. 6) 102. P. STEINFELS, “Idyllic Theory of Goddess Creates Storm,” New York Times (13 February 1990) Β5. SPRETNAK (supra n. 60) 35; C. BIAGGI, “The Last Time I Saw Marija Gimbutas,” in MARLER ed. (supra n. 60) 231-232. GIMBUTAS 1991 (supra n. 8) vii. A. GASSNER-VISCHER, “Die Sprache der Göttin,” Ab 40 4:93 (1993) 102. BROWN (supra n. 56) 254. It is no coincidence that a Ph.D. thesis is being prepared on Gimbutas’ intellectual biography by a nonarchaeologist: RASA NAVICKAITÉ, The Pre-historic Goddess of Post-socialism. Transnational Feminist Reception of Marija Gimbutas, Central European University, Department of Gender Studies [https://gender.ceu.edu/ people/rasa-navickaite]. ELSTER 2007 (supra n. 6) 85. ELSTER 2007 (supra n. 6) 107. GIMBUTAS 1989 (supra n. 8) 321. Ch. ORTEGA SERRANO, “Ella se mueve de una forma misteriosa. La Gran Diosa tras la mascara,” Duoda 18 (2000) 35 [www.raco.cat/index.php/DUODA/article/viewFile/62447/90693].

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prominently in the history of the discipline, as compared to their female counterparts. For Gimbutas, as for Jacquetta Hawkes and Margaret Murray (who, too, left a legacy of powerful, female-orientated archaeologies), the recognition of prominence is still to be desired.83 She herself perceived her work only as a beginning: “The search for truth continues; […] take the best of my work and continue with your own work.”84 Scholarship in the humanities and social sciences owes much of its worth to the kinds of questions that are asked; if scholars are not interested in interesting things, they may produce rigorous but uninteresting outcomes. As Gimbutas was interested in interesting things, she was able to raise interesting questions – even though she did not provide satisfactory answers – contrary to the dull positivism of the (then prevailing) processual archaeology.85 The fact remains that her Goddess theory has decisively contributed to generating new knowledge, in the sense that it paved the way to the “malicious pleasure” caused by the “provocative enigma” of the figurines – to conclude by returning to the introductory quote. Dimitra KOKKINIDOU

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R.D. WHITEHOUSE, “Margaret Murray (1863–1963): Pioneer Egyptologist, Feminist and First Female Archaeology Lecturer,” Archaeology International 16 (2012-2013) 123 [https://ai-journal.com/ articles/10.5334/ai.1608/]. Cited by MARLER 1996 (supra n. 6) 46-47. G. HAALAND and R. HAALAND, “Who Speaks the Goddess’s Language? Imagination and Method in Archaeological Research,” Norwegian Archaeological Review 28:2 (1995) 120.

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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Pl. XIa

Portrait of the archaeologist Marija Gimbutas, 1981, by Vytautas Ciplijauskas, Lithuanian Art Museum, Vilnius.http://old.ldm.lt/Naujausiosparodos/V_Ciplijausko_v_p.htm Pl. XIb The world of the Goddess at Sitagroi. M. GIMBUTAS, “Mythical Imagery of Sitagroi Society”, in C. RENFREW, M. GIMBUTAS and E.S. ELSTER (eds), Excavations at Sitagroi. A Prehistoric Village in Northeast Greece, vol. 1 (1986) figs 9.27, 9.31, 9.37, 9.46, 9.50, 9.62 after 9.50. Pl. XIIa The spread of the Indo-Europeans. M. GIMBUTAS, “The Indo-Europeans: Archeological Problems,” American Anthropologist 65 (1963) 815-836, fig 2. Pl. XIIb Goddess-inspired art. Selected wall collages, 1972-2011 (detail), by Mary Beth Edelson, Tate Modern, London. https://frieze.com/article/tate-acquires-works-focus-sex-work-and-main-section-frieze-london Pl. XIIIa Goddess pilgrimage to Crete. Photo and comment posted by the pilgrimage organizer Carol Christ, 22 March 2019: Imagine leaving a stone from home on an ancient altar in Crete. “They have come before us. They will come after us.” Join us! https://www.facebook.com/goddesspilgrimagetocrete/photos/ pb.132930580059257.-2207520000.1553778283./2387664794585813/?type=3&theater Pl. XIIIb The Gimbutas family fleeing Lithuania (10 July 1944). Balzekas Museum of Lithuanian Culture, Chicago; original in the Maironis Lithuanian Literature Museum, Kaunas. https://balzekasmuseum.org/ displacedpersons/the-flight#gimbutas Pl. XIIIc A conflict between two worlds. M. GIMBUTAS, “The First Wave of Eurasian Steppe Pastoralists into Copper Age Europe”, Journal of Indo-European Studies 5 (1977) 277-338, fig. 3.




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ENGAGED SCHOLARSHIP IN EARLY AEGEAN ARCHAEOLOGY: THE LIBERAL EDUCATION OF HARRIET BOYD, SURVIVAL AND SUCCESS IN CROSSING THE GENDER DIVIDE IN SCHOLARSHIP ON GREECE8 Previous scholarship has identified Boyd as a game-changer for female archaeologists at the genderbiased American School of Classical Studies at Athens.1 But Boyd, tempered by loss and a sense of social justice long before she reached Athens, bequeathed a far greater legacy to the field. On the basis of an examination of Boyd’s papers in the Smith College Archives, I demonstrate how Boyd, a scholar initially drawn to Greece because of its antiquity, became so passionately committed to the causes of modern Greece and empathetic to its people that she abandoned classical studies to engage in humanitarian activities in wartime. These activities prepared her to enter the excavation arena.2 Boyd acquired her love of Greece through her older brother Alex, a student of Charles Eliot Norton, Harvard professor of Fine Arts, classical enthusiast, and founder of the Archaeological Institute of America (AIA). While still a baby, Boyd lost her mother and, as the youngest of five children and only girl in the family, was socialized among brothers with whom war games and risky imaginative role play were de rigeur.3 As a result, she was athletic, headstrong, and outspoken and never internalized the female gender script.4 Her brother Alex, eleven years older, filled the void left by her mother’s death, advising her on *

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I should like to thank John Younger for inviting me to participate in the Tenth Annual Rehak Symposium in 2015 where I presented a version of this paper as well as Johanna Hanink and Dimitri Nakassis for inviting me to participate in a Panel, “American Classicists, Modern Greece: Historic Chapters in Engaged Scholarship”, at the Biannual Symposium of the Modern Greek Studies Association to be held in Sacramento, November 7-10, 2019. I should also like to acknowledge decades of my Smith College students with whom I plumbed the Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Smith College Archives, CA-MS-00102, Smith College Special Collections, Northampton, Massachusetts. Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, 1888-1967, http://asteria.fivecolleges.edu/findaids/smitharchives/manosca102.html. Unless otherwise specified, all archival material cited in this essay derives from this collection of Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, henceforth referred to as Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers. S.H. ALLEN, “The Archaeology of the AIA: an Introduction,” in S.H. ALLEN (ed.), Excavating Our Past. Perspectives on the History of the Archaeological Institute of America (2002) 1-29; EAD., “Pioneering American Women in Classical Archaeology. Academia, the Archaeological Institute of America and the American School of Classical Studies at Athens. 1879-1919,” in C.C. MATTUSCH, A.A. DONOHUE and A. BRAUER (eds), Common Ground. Archaeology, Art, Science, and Humanities. Proceedings of the XVI International Congress of Classical Archaeologists. Harvard University Art Museums, Harvard University, August 23-26, 2003 (2006) 8-10; EAD., “Excavating Women: Female Pairings in Early Aegean Archaeology (1871-1918)”, in K. KOPAKA (ed.), FYLO. Engendering Prehistoric ‘Stratigraphies’ in the Aegean and the Mediterranean. Proceedings of an International Conference, University of Crete, Rethymno 2-5 June 2005 (2009) 254-261; M. ALLSEBROOK, Born to Rebel. The Life of Harriet Boyd Hawes (1992); D.L. BOLGER, “Harriet Boyd Hawes and Edith Hall at work in Mediterranean archaeology,” in C. CLAASSEN (ed.), Women in Archaeology (1994) 41-50; V. FOTOU and A. BROWN, “Harriet Boyd Hawes (1871-1945),” in G.M. COHEN and M.S. JOUKOWSKY (eds), Breaking Ground. Pioneering Women Archaeologists (2004) 198-273; and M. PICAZO, “Fieldwork is not the Proper Preserve of a Lady: The First Women Archaeologists in Crete,” in M. DÍAZ-ANDREU and M.L.S. SØRENSEN (eds), Excavating Women. A History of Women in European Archaeology (1998) 198-213. ALLSEBROOK (supra n. 1) 19. Her fourth brother Allen loved military actions with constant risk of danger and drew chalked maps on the floor. Her third brother Harry’s cardboard castles sparked her imagination. They let her play whatever role she chose. In her memoirs, Boyd acknowledged that it was “training for a rebel”. H. BOYD, Memories and Opinions (1944) 1-4. Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers Box 853 Folder 2. Boyd introduced skiing to Smith. Autobiographical Notes. Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 851, Folder 2.

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appropriate dress and grooming, introducing her to culture through trips to the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston and religion through Phillips Brooks, the charismatic rector of Trinity Church.5 Later Alex advised her on prep school and a college education. Following his advice, she chose the Classical Course at Smith College where she focused on Ancient Greek and studied plaster casts of classical sculpture.6 At the end of her first year, seniors made headlines, performing Sophocles’ Electra in Ancient Greek.7 Meanwhile, English explorer/novelist Amelia Edwards spoke at Smith on Ancient Egypt, impressing Boyd with her personality and learning while demonstrating that archaeology was a “fascinating” pursuit that need not have “harmful hardening effects upon the pursuer.”8 Boyd’s years at Smith also awakened her interest in social justice. Because Smith was oversubscribed, Boyd was forced to live off campus. Through her landlady she met Adalene Moffat, a young artist and social worker who recruited Boyd to teach working children. Soon Latin could not compete with a Polish exile’s “reports on the Czarist penal colonies in Siberia” or workers’ conditions in local factories. Boyd grew distracted and wrote her brother of her desire “to alleviate humanity’s suffering” and devote herself to “the other half.”9 But Alex, worried she would never marry, insisted that she be able to support herself. When Alex’s health deteriorated, Boyd, alarmed, asked his permission to leave Smith to become a professional nurse. He disapproved, arguing that her constitution was not strong enough nor was she old enough to handle the responsibility.10 He insisted that her duty was to her family and her father. After Alex died,11 Boyd, devastated, honored his wishes and soldiered through her senior year, graduating in 1892, comforted and supported by her Episcopal faith and her Smith classmate Blanche Wheeler. Middle class Boyd insisted on self-support.12 After a grim year of hunger and self-denial teaching classics in the Reconstruction South, in 1893 she visited the Columbian Exposition in Chicago. Then she taught at a northern finishing school for three years, the last year of which was marred by her father’s 5

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H. BOYD, Draft manuscript of autobiography. Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 853, Folder 3. Alexander Boyd to Harriet Boyd, January 29, 1891, Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 856, Folder 27. Smith College Official Circular no. 15, October 1888, p. 7, Smith College Archives. New York Times, May 24, 1889. Smith followed Harvard’s lead (Oedipus 1881). See H. FOLEY, Reimagining Greek Tragedy on the American Stage (2014). H. BOYD, Lecture on “Gournia” Smith College, Nov. 1902. Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 857, Folder 58. Edwards traveled everywhere with her female companion. R. MUÑOZ, “Amelia Edwards in America – A Quiet Revolution in Archaeological Science,” Bulletin of the History of Archaeology 27 (2017) 7. DOI: http://doi.org/10.5334/bha-598. Smith College honored Edwards with an honorary degree in 1886 on her American tour. Edwards, a co-founder of and Honorary Secretary of the Egypt Exploration Society, was in the United States for a five-month-long lecture tour of 115 talks in 16 different states in 1889. In her talk “Pharaohs, Fellahs, and Explorers” Edwards painted a seductive picture of the charms of the Orient and the enchanting remains of ancient Egyptian civilization from her account of her year-long cruise up the Nile by dahabiyeh, and fulminated about the destruction of Egyptian sites, and begged for help in their preservation. Edwards was the first woman ever to address AIA audiences. Surprisingly, Norton, AIA President, refused to support Edwards although AIA founding member Francis Parkman did. A.B. EDWARDS, Thousand Miles up the Nile (1876). Harriet Boyd to Alexander Boyd, January 25, 1891 and Alexander Boyd to Harriet Boyd, January 29, 1891. Harriet Boyd to Alexander Boyd, June 25, 1891 and Alexander Boyd to Harriet Boyd, June 29, 1891. Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 856, Folder 27. FOTOU and BROWN (supra, n. 1) 200. She had been quarantined at age 12 after helping in a typhoid outbreak. “Applicants under 22 or 23 years of age… do not have the requisite amount of judgment, etc for the responsible duties of a nurse.” Concerned about her having to “watch” light cases of fever, etc.,), occasionally seeing deaths, being surrounded all the time by the atmosphere of a hospital, without… strain” Boyd to Alexander Boyd, January 25, 1891 and Alexander Boyd to Harriet Boyd, January 29, 1891. Harriet Boyd to Alexander Boyd, June 25, 1891 and Alexander Boyd to Harriet Boyd, June 29, 1891. Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 856, Folder 27. Suffering from typhoid fever and diabetes, Alexander Boyd bequeathed his estate to his sister and died on August 26, 1891. FOTOU and BROWN (supra, n. 1) 200.

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agonizing hospitalization.13 His death in April 1896 freed her from further familial responsibility. Using her father’s and brother’s bequests, Boyd embarked with women companions on a Grand Tour, visiting Holland, the Swiss Alps, and Paris en route to Athens where Boyd, determined to teach college, sought professional training at the American School of Classical Studies (ASCSA). On the train, she met a wellconnected aristocratic Greek woman (sister-in-law-of Sarah Bernhardt) who regaled her with stories of the Greek Revolution and invited her to live in. As a woman, Boyd could not live at the School, so she chose to board with the Greek.14 At first Boyd’s letters to her brothers brimmed with enthusiasm for archaeology and life in Athens. She wrote of her cycling around the city (a sport recently popularized in the first modern revival Olympic Games held in Athens that spring).15 On Saturdays Schliemann’s architect W. Dörpfeld, then director of the German School, lectured on topography and the Acropolis. Boyd thought him the greatest living archaeologist, and his experience ignited her imagination. Amherst professor J.S. Sterrett, who once led caravans across Asia Minor, taught Greek epigraphy and led Boyd and her fellow students on trips to ASCSA excavations at Eretria, the Argolid, Delphi, and Boeotia during which they climbed Mt. Helicon and Parnassus. She delighted in examining Schliemann’s excavations, and “running from one fallen rock to another, discussing the number of columns, the use of this threshold or that conduit” at the healing sanctuary of Epidaurus where ruins offered “a most teasing puzzle.”16 From the beginning, the apparent obstacle of living away from the School exposed Boyd to Greeks and Greek culture. To communicate with them, she studied Modern Greek mornings and evenings. Boyd also carefully observed Greek contemporary culture, recording her impressions: ethnographic details of men’s and women’s dress, colorful sashes, jackets, agricultural practices, tools, shepherds, torchlit Greek weddings and funerals.17 As she acquired Modern Greek, Boyd became engaged in Greek politics, describing mounting tension to her family and the different uniforms worn by the soldiers.18 Her hostess’s salon brought Boyd into contact with the Athenian elite and volatile current events. As a result, she “learned to sympathize with the struggle of Greeks for independence from Turkish misrule.”19 With her hostess, Boyd attended Parliamentary debates, her struggle and progress in grasping spoken Greek documented in her letters home.20 In January 1897 Boyd wrote of Cretans rising up against the Ottomans and Cretan refugees swarming into Athens. Through engaged scholarship, Boyd was bridging the gap between the American School and the world of the Athenian social and intellectual elite. When in February the Greek King declared war on the Ottoman Turks over Cretan independence, Boyd attended four parliamentary debates in one week and rode on the train with Greek soldiers bound for embarkation at Piraeus.21 For years, family illness, loss and religious faith conditioned Harriet Boyd to look beyond herself for non-traditional role models and for emotional 13

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H.B. HAWES, Memoir. Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 851, Folder 2. FOTOU and BROWN (supra, n. 1) 200. FOTOU and BROWN (supra, n. 1) 200. April 6 to 15, 1896. Fourteen countries took part. The United States won the most gold medals, and Greece won the Marathon. Panathenaic Stadium. Olympic Cycling took place at the Neo Phaleron velodrome. Boyd to family October 18 and December 14, 1896. Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 851, Folder 11. Boyd to family October 18, 1896, Boyd to James Boyd January 10, 1897. Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 851, Folder 11. In October in Nafplion Boyd witnessed 300 men enlisting. Boyd to family October 18, Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 851, Folder 11. Boyd to her aunt Ellen Slade December 6, 1896. Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 851, Folder 11, and H.B. HAWES, Experiences in Greek Lands (1924) 1. Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 864, Folder 115. Boyd to her family December 10, 1896. Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 851, Folder 11 and Boyd’s letters to brothers and sisters Box 861 Folders 124-126. Boyd to Brothers and Sisters, February 16, 1897 and Boyd to Allen March 12, 1897, Box 861, Folder 124.

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support. Since her Northampton days, she had looked beyond the ivory tower to respond to the needs of the working class. In Athens, Boyd witnessed a disconnect between ASCSA students focused on library research on antiquity while in the streets of Athens modern Greeks debated issues of liberty and in Thessaly Greek soldiers died for it. Boyd’s “primary concern was not with scholarship but with political and social justice, not with the past but with the burning issues of the present.”22 “My feet led me not to libraries and museums but to hospitals.”23 She abandoned her ASCSA studies for those in first aid, shocked to learn that Greece had practically no trained nurses. At daily classes held by the Philon to Laon at the club, Union of Greek Women, presided over by the Queen, Boyd met “the best ladies of Greek society”, including Heinrich Schliemann’s widow, Sophia, and her daughter.24 Radcliffe alumna, Dr. Maria Kalapothakes, taught them basic knowledge of a nurse’s duties: how to record temperatures, assist in operations, prepare dressings and splints, and bind a leg or arm to prevent arterial bleeding. She emphasized elementary anatomy, hygiene, and antiseptics.25 Reservists headed to Thessaly to defend the northern border, and hundreds of monks joined the army. Boyd was disgusted with the isolationist policy of the American School which “as a body… remains very cool and discounts everything.” She, however, could think of nothing else. Twice she had “gone to bed trembling not with fear but excitement.” Roused to action with a passion for social justice learned at Smith, she wrote her brother Allen asking him to circulate her letters widely to the Ladies Home Journal to raise awareness in America and money to aid the Greeks. “Let America send money for arms and ammunition... Let America take this seriously not as a sensation.”26 She wrote that Athens was more crowded with volunteers and reserves than it had been during the Olympic Games.27 On April 17, the Turks ordered a general attack at dawn. The next day twelve Red Cross nurses headed to Piraeus. Boyd was among them. She wanted to be “of practical service to a good cause” and appealed to Queen Olga who accepted her.28 So Boyd (the only one not in uniform) joined the others, and sailed for Volos by troop ship. Due to her advanced education, Boyd was placed in charge of two Cretan women and two Greek women originally detailed for service at the hospital in Volos. Within a week, Boyd took charge of a makeshift hospital for 35 wounded and 30 exhausted men. The Red Cross hospital was in a house and served as a triage center for 40 patients awaiting transshipment to Athens. Boyd was learning history on the field of battle and had finally realized her ambition to be a nurse. Then Kalopothakes asked Boyd to open another hospital in a schoolhouse. Retreating soldiers from Larissa and the battle of Tyrnovo filled the courtyard. Wounded covered the floor. Boyd feared consumption, but worked through the night. To relieve overcrowding, the nurses evacuated the wounded to Piraeus and abandoned the makeshift hospital for that of the Red Cross. For protection against the Turks, the nurses planned to raise the American flag over it. The nurses prepared to evacuate. Boyd asked to be shot rather than captured by Turkish soldiers, but the Turks did not come. Then the nurses unpacked everything, preparing to receive more wounded from the battle at Velestino. Soon delirious patients flooded the hospital. When the Greek army retreated, they loaded the wounded onto a hospital ship bound for Piraeus and accompanied by the nurses on which Schliemann’s son served as steward and caterer. Within days the nurses returned to Thessaly. On the front lines at Domokos, Boyd and Sophie 22 23 24 25

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Phyllis Williams Lehmann, Speech, p.4, Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers. Box 851 Folder 5. H. BOYD, “Experiences in War, 1897,” Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers. Box 864, Folder 115. Boyd to Brothers and Sisters March 8, 1897, Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers. Box 861, Folder 124. Boyd to family, February 21, 1897. Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 861, Folder 124. The Great Powers (England, France, Italy, and Russia) defended the Ottoman control against the Greeks. H. BOYD, “Experiences in War, 1897,” Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 864, Folder 115. Boyd to Allen March 12, 1897, Box 861, Folder 124. Boyd to Allen March 16, 1897, Box 861, Folder 124. Boyd to Brothers and Sisters March 8, 1897, Box 861, Folder 124. H. BOYD, “Experiences in War, 1897,” Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 864, Folder 115.

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Baltazzi, a Constantinopolitan Greek, fluent in five languages, established yet another hospital, and witnessed the major battle of the war.29 Afterwards they fell back to Lamia, and then went to Vonitsa to alleviate suffering from a typhoid epidemic. When the armistice was signed, they returned to Thessaly, nursing typhoid patients through the summer at the army’s hospital in Lamia near Thermopylae. During this time, they dined on the royal yacht with Queen Olga, her sons George and Constantine and his wife Sophia. Lack of languages plagued Boyd. Doctors spoke to the nurses in both French and Greek. Boyd knew some Greek, but the stressful conditions initially overwhelmed her and remained challenging. “My chief difficulty was the language... army doctors would resort in despair to French… but in surgery, my French vocabulary was even more limited than my Greek and I begged them to return to their native language… in the hospitals I made greater strides in Modern Greek than I could have at any university.”30 The stressful day-to-day life and death medical emergencies made learning the language imperative. Complete immersion made rapid acquisition possible. Boyd’s compassionate choice to become personally involved in humanitarian concerns more than repaid her efforts. The difficult and strenuous wartime nursing paved the way for her later successes as an archaeologist in very specific ways. She acquired important social and political contacts with Queen and the Athenian elite which would give her substantial social backing and impact her attempts to gain support.31 Among them, Boyd befriended Sophia Schliemann who became a mentor and Sophia Baltazzi who remained influential with the Queen. Boyd’s immersion in peasant and elite culture away from the American enclave led to eventual mastery of written and spoken Greek. In opening hospitals, she demonstrated her ability to take charge and lead men and women. Nursing soldiers under desperate circumstances taught her the necessity of collegiality and teamwork. Her constant sympathy for the men in her charge, identifying them by description or hometown, and her increasing integration into Greek popular culture led to her development of empathy.32 Boyd learned and practiced skills of observation and communication which helped her find her voice as she wrote home of soldiers in pain crying out to their mothers and women worrying about the fate of husbands and sons. Her passion for social justice and understanding of the value and character of publicity for an activist fueled her fund-raising and gained her a reputation as a spokesperson in a public arena. Her personal stories of soldiers’ suffering and heroism and candid accounts of hospital life and critical analysis of the situation in public reports on the war increased her visibility with American audiences. These gave her name recognition as a war correspondent in the United States. Boyd had struggled to navigate the gendered hierarchy of relief work and public critique and achieved much while acting within acceptable gender constraints. Each of these skills Boyd would use to her advantage when she returned to the American School. After reporting for duty with the Red Cross nursing American soldiers stricken with typhoid in Tampa camps of the Spanish-American War in July 1898, Boyd returned to Athens. She had received the AIA Fellowship at the School not as a result of examinations, but because of “evidence of her abilities and attainments”: specifically, “knowledge of modern language and topography of Greece gained through war.”33 To facilitate life there, Boyd continued studying modern Greek privately and at the Arsakeion, Sophia Schliemann’s alma mater in Athens. Alfred Emerson, veteran of the AIA’s only Mediterranean excavation, at Assos in Turkey, taught epigraphy at the ASCSA. As a Fellow, Boyd was assigned the study of Eleusinian

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May 17, 1897. H. BOYD, “Experiences in War, 1897,” Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 864, Folder 115. H. BOYD, “Experiences in War, 1897,” Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 864, Folder 115. News clippings Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 857 Folder 69 and Boyd to Brothers and Sisters August 31, 1897 Box 862, Folder 126. By March she referred to herself, the soldiers, and hospital staff as “we”. Boyd to Allen March 16, 1897, Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 861, Folder 124. H. BOYD, “Experiences in War, 1897,” Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers. Box 864, Folder 115.

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Building Inscriptions, but found the library dissertation “a weariness of the flesh.”34 Believing that she needed a practical knowledge of building methods to discuss the inscriptions, Boyd applied for a permit to climb the scaffolding to the entablature of the Parthenon despite her fear of heights. After enduring a year of frustration “until my brain was muddled and my heart was lead”, she despaired, deciding that she was “never cut out for a library student.”35 Fearing failure, she abandoned her research for two months travel in Germany and Austria.36 To undertake a tour of the Peloponnese, Boyd teamed up with Smith classmate, Blanche Wheeler. Together they traveled to Delphi, Thermopylae, and the School’s excavations at Corinth. In January, 1899 Boyd received a Red Cross decoration for her wartime services from the Queen. With the Agnes Hoppin fellowship (earmarked for women only) Boyd returned to the American School. There she found women students analyzing material dug up by their male colleagues at Corinth. This did not appeal to Boyd who had learned to dig in Dörpfeld’s Saturday lectures on the acropolis. Through his “demonstrations of the methods and meanings of excavations” Boyd was “was seized with the desire to dig also.” First she tried to work within the structure of the American School by applying to dig tombs at Corinth, but was rejected because of her gender by the director who did not want women on his dig.37 But Boyd did not stop here. Her “thought had become a longing.”38 Soon politics again offered a way out of library seclusion. By February 1900 Crete was free. Its anomalous political situation offered flexibility and opportunity as well as “virgin soil for excavation.”39 Armed with the approval of the British and convinced that “Americans ought, if possible, to have a share in the exploration of Crete,”40 Boyd quietly put her fellowship money towards her own excavation on Crete.41 Sophia Schliemann and Dörpfeld supported and mentored her.42 In the crucible of war, Boyd had proved that, as she and Baltazzi had paired up to found wartime hospitals, she bonded well with other women. Boyd then set up a model for women in archaeology by securing another single woman to enter the field with her. The arrangement offered emotional and intellectual support in a hostile environment. By pairing up with another woman instead of a husband, Boyd could have freedom, support, and control in the field. Together Boyd and her botanist friend Jean Patten journeyed to Crete where they surveyed the central and eastern part of the island for ten days.43 Sophia Baltazzi, Boyd’s wartime field partner and later secretary to Queen Olga, had prepared strategic letters of introduction to smooth their way. Boyd noted that she “saw ruined villages and a population still on edge haunted by memories of recent massacres but glad to accept the visit of an American woman as a token that danger was past.”44 Boyd used dress as an important signifier for the team, to evoke patriotic sympathies and to signal the women’s non-traditional role in the enterprise, and yet to remain, always, within gender-appropriate 34 35 36 37 38

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H. BOYD, “Experiences in War, 1897,” Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 864, Folder 115. Boyd to Brothers and Sisters, April 28, 1900 Box 857, Folder 60. H. BOYD, “Experiences in War, 1897,” Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 864, Folder 115. FOTOU and BROWN (supra, n. 1) 205. “Demonstrations given by Schliemann’s lieutenant, Dr. Wilhelm Dörpfeld.” Boyd to Brothers and Sisters, April 28, 1900, Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 857, Folder 60. H. BOYD, Lecture on “Gournia” Smith College, Nov. 1902. Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 857, Folder 58. H. BOYD, Memoir, I, 97. Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 851, Folder 2. “The idea came to me vaguely a year ago to put some of the Fellowship money with an excavation, but when proposed to Mr. Richardson, it fell flat.” Boyd to Blanche Wheeler and Boyd to Brothers and Sisters, April 28, 1900, Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 857, Folder 60. Boyd to Blanche Wheeler, Boyd to Brothers and Sisters, April 28, 1900, Boyd draft to Thomas Day Seymour, May 1, 1900. Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 857, Folder 60. Boyd had lived in Athens with her high school friend, Jean Patten who had been studying botany in Germany. To be their servant, Baltazzi had hired an Epirot patriot like those of Sophia Schliemann and Queen Olga. Ida Thallon’s letter to her mother February 19, 1900, Ida Thallon Hill Papers. ASCSA Archives. FOTOU and BROWN (supra, n. 1). H.B. HAWES, Experiences in Greek Lands (1924) 1, Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 864, Folder 115.

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norms. Boyd’s servant, the Epirot patriot Aristides Pappadhias distinguished himself from other Cretans by wearing the fustanella. Yet Boyd, herself, faced a double challenge, to maintain a respectable image while engaging in a non-traditional activity for women. She had, as a role model, Amelia Edwards, but Edwards was a traveler/author, she was not hopping into trenches and supervising archaeological fieldwork. She needed to project a strong, capable image to prove herself able to lead. Boyd saw herself as an ambassador to the people of Crete and was very conscious of their perception of her.45 She chose to wear the same high-collared, long-sleeved white blouse and long white skirt that she had worn as a nurse, practical against exposure to the sun, yet not for hard physical labor in the dust and dirt of an archaeological excavation. Mindful of her reputation, Boyd wore conservative dress genderappropriate dress while choosing to play a dominant role in a male dominated society. Equally important to her reputation was the presence of a woman companion. Boyd and Patten set themselves apart from Cretan women by wearing white while locals wore black. Boyd hired and fired her own men. She forced herself forward, rode to the site, paid the men, and worked alongside them. To defend her reputation and be taken seriously within Crete and also the academic world, Boyd was careful not to step outside social norms for her gender in any respect other than her career choice. She successfully proved herself and maintained her image, but the stress must have been enormous. Boyd’s command of modern Greek as well as her philhellenic war record assured her personal acceptance with villagers and patriotic Cretan officials. She applied for and was granted an excavation permit for the mountainous site of Kavousi, overlooking the Gulf of Mirabello at the isthmus. For three weeks they excavated ten different sites.46 To assuage concerns of propriety back home, her foreman’s mother functioned as cook and chaperone. Boyd directed and managed the excavations while Patten studied the botanical remains. Founding and running a hospital in wartime provided good training for setting up and running an excavation, dealing with the supervising and paying in multiple currencies of men of all ages. That fall Boyd began to teach at Smith College. She wrote up Kavousi as her master’s thesis, published it in the American Journal of Archaeology, and earned her master’s degree within a year.47 At the AIA’s annual meeting in Philadelphia in 1900 Boyd presented their first excavation season. In the audience was archaeologist, patron, and institution builder, Sara Yorke Stevenson, President of the Philadelphia Society of the AIA. Stevenson heard Boyd’s talk and offered to back her 1901 campaign with funds from the American Exploration Society in exchange for full publication rights.48 45

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She was plagued by their “prying curiosity” and described the women’s presence as “better than a circus come to town. To the villagers the coming of foreign ladies meant something.” Boyd to Brothers and Sisters April 28, 1900 Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 857, Folder 60. Evans lent her Robert Bosanquet to plan the finds and Emile Gillieron to draw finds. She earned her Master’s degree in 1901 for her publication H.A. BOYD, “Excavations at Kavousi, Crete, in 1900,” AJA 5 (1901) 125-135. Like its sister colleges Smith frequently hired its proven alumnae. Presidents’ reports to the board of trustees reflect a desire to promote women to professorships despite the embarrassment of their leaving the field for marriage. All assistants (instructors) were women. Suffragist Sara Yorke Stevenson first became active in the Mediterranean. Predisposed to an interest in archaeology from a childhood in Paris and Mexico before her married life in Philadelphia, she was wealthy, independent and strong-minded. For her, marriage was a context not a focus. She came to the AIA through Frederic Ward Putnam of the Peabody Museum and William Pepper of Philadelphia. She devoted her life to travel, exploration, and institution-building in behalf of archaeology. She helped to found, fund, and lead the department of archaeology of the University of Pennsylvania. In 1892 she was elected a member of the Board of the Department of Archaeology and Paleontology at the University of Pennsylvania (D. O’CONNOR and D. SILVERMAN, “The University Museum in Egypt. The Past,” Expedition 21 [1979] 33). Elected to its board in 1892, in 1893 she served as Vice President of the jury for Ethnology at the Columbian Exposition in Chicago. At the Free Museum of Science and Art, later known as the University Museum, she served as the first curator of the Mediterranean and Egyptian sections. In 1889 William Pepper, Provost of the University of Pennsylvania had formed the University

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The correspondence between Stevenson and Boyd reveals the strength of their characters. Stevenson offered Boyd money and institutional support, but demanded control. Seeking glory for Philadelphia and her own institutions, Stevenson would not share Boyd with the AIA or the American School and would not allow her to affiliate with either. She tried to persuade Boyd that she and the Society were “absolutely disinterested in our desire to secure a foothold for America in the Cretan field and in trying to make an opening for the development of your scientific career which seems to be so full of promise.”49 In return, Boyd offered a unique opportunity for Stevenson’s American Exploration Society, the University Museum, and Philadelphia, assumed all the risks to her person and her career. But she also demanded control. A battle of wills ensued, showing both women could be savvy negotiators: aggressive, shrewd, protective of their own interests. Boyd needed a female assistant, Stevenson refused to pay the assistant’s fare. Boyd insisted she could not go into the field without her. There was a standoff. It was a Faustian bargain that Stevenson presented. Because Boyd was not a wealthy woman, in the end she compromised. She and her assistant would fund their own travel, to be refunded by Stevenson upon the receipt of her new dig permit without the aegis of the School.50 But since no American had ever excavated without affiliation with the School, a digging permit was not guaranteed. Boyd proceeded as before, armed with an iron will. Since Patten was no longer available, Boyd chose Blanche Wheeler as her assistant.51 Thus, her model remained intact. Again she secured her permit largely through her philhellenic reputation. With permit in hand to excavate Gournia, a new site not far from Kavousi, she telegraphed Stevenson “Success” on May 23, 1901. She set to work immediately, and the site was rich. Her workforce swelled from 36 to 110 and so did the expenses. Within a month she had cleared 36 rooms belonging to 8 or more houses and 3 streets in a field about 180 by 120 meters. Although it did not compare in elegance of architecture to the palace at Knossos, Boyd wrote it was the most perfect example yet discovered ‘a small Mycenaean town”. “it has a unique importance in the light it throws on the life of the … [Minoan] people.”52 Stevenson was an accomplished promoter and the diminutive Bostonian was a promoter’s dream. Instantly Boyd became a celebrity, and Gournia was compared to Pompeii. In 1902 Boyd took to the road, lecturing like Annie Peck and Amelia Edwards. Boyd became the first American woman to lecture to AIA societies, speaking on Gournia ten times in fourteen days, in Boston, New Haven, New York, Baltimore, Cleveland, Detroit, Chicago, Madison, Columbia, MO, and Iowa City. 53 Like her

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Archaeological Association which developed into the University Museum (O’CONNOR and SILVERMAN [supra, n. 47] 33). Originally housed in College Hall, it acquired its present home in 1899. As president, as well as co-founder of the American Exploration Society, a wealthy group of supporters organized to fund museum expeditions, she traveled to Rome and Egypt on special archaeological missions. Characterized as “shrewd and vigorous,” she worked to organize the museum’s first Egyptian field project in 1898 in Cairo and, when that proved impossible, secured a steady flow of antiquities excavated by British archaeologist, Flinders Petrie, to her museum through its sponsorship of the Egypt Exploration Fund founded by Amelia Edwards. She rose as high as possible for her time, receiving an honorary degree of Doctor of Science from the University of Pennsylvania in 1894 (National Cyclopaedia of American Biography 13, 83-84). Stevenson was elected a Fellow of the American Association for the Advancement of Science, American Philosophical Society and American Oriental Society. She also served as first woman president of Pennsylvania society of the AIA in 1899. Stevenson was competent and aggressive; she did not attend college, but paved the way professionally for those who did. Stevenson to Boyd March 7, 1901. Sara Yorke Stevenson Papers, PennMuseum Archives 1162. Available at: http://hdl.library.upenn.edu/1017/d/ead/upenn_museum_PUMu1162. $1000 to fund the dig, but only after she had secured the excavation permit. See correspondence exchanged between Stevenson and Boyd, January to March, 1901, Penn Museum Archives. Boyd diary entries, January to March, 1901, Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 851, Folder 16. H.B. HAWES, “Gournia. Report of the American Exploration Society’s Excavations at Gournia, Crete, 1901-1903,” Transactions of the Department of Archaeology, Free Museum of Science and Anthropology, University of Pennsylvania 1 (1904) 29. Smith granted her a leave of absence (ALLSEBROOK [supra n. 1] 99). H. BOYD, New York Times, August 10, 1902. Nation 1902. ALLSEBROOK (supra n. 1) 110.

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predecessors, Boyd carefully portrayed herself in gender appropriate ways. Philadelphia papers shouted “A woman has shattered another tradition and successfully entered unaided a field hitherto occupied almost exclusively by men, namely archaeological exploration... Other women have made names in the fields of archaeological research, but these have done so in company with their husbands, who shared the glory with them. But Miss Boyd’s work is entirely her own.”54 “The New York Times reported “She calls her excavations ‘campaigns’ and treats them as if they were battles by determined, scientific armies to wrest the secrets of ancient days from the earth. She is a general, too, for she is in command of a little army of her own... The masculine work she has been doing in the world has had the effect of giving her a businesslike briskness in conversation, but it does not destroy the charm of her manner, but rather adds piquancy to it. She is strictly feminine in every way.”55 For Boyd and Stevenson it was a win-win situation, bringing glory to both women and to city of Philadelphia. Despite Stevenson’s chafing at the cost, Boyd insisted on continuing her work model in subsequent seasons at Gournia. The atmosphere was collegial, communal and non-competitive although Boyd was clearly in charge. Each season her companion changed, but all cooperated and contributed to the final publication. In 1900 Patten did the botanical studies; Wheeler worked on pottery in 1901 and presented papers on it at the AIA annual meetings in 1902 and 1905, Wheeler wrote up the cult objects. When Wheeler married and could not return in 1902, Boyd cancelled her season rather than go alone. In 1903 Boyd brought out Northampton friend and artist Adalene Moffat to draw the pottery from the excavations and in 1904 another Smith graduate and American School alumna and last recipient of the Hoppin Fellowship, Edith Hall, who analyzed the pottery. Following her triumphs in the field, Boyd returned to teach at Smith. She set up an acceptable model for other American women to follow for work in the field – a female twosome or power pair, although her intimate friendships with Patten, Wheeler, and Moffat were replaced by a more business-type relationship with Hall.56 Financial support continued to plague Boyd and she began seeking other sources in 1904. She did not want to leave the site unpublished as had previous American excavation teams. The burden of publication weighed heavily on her.57 Boyd left the field and resigned from Smith, having, in the parlance of the Smith President, “permanently disqualified herself” by marriage.58 Her career as a fieldworker ended with the birth of her son in 1906. Two years later and only four years after the close of her excavations on Crete, with the assistance of her mainly women colleagues, Boyd published the first archaeological monograph on a Minoan site.59 Each of her women assistants contributed a chapter. Meanwhile Boyd became the first woman ever to direct and manage an excavation and publish the results. Soon other women perpetuated Boyd’s fieldwork model on the Greek mainland. Informed by her lifetime of engagement, in 1914 Boyd Hawes charted an innovative program for the ASCSA that involved ancient and modern Greek study, including lectures by Greek men and women.60 War and humanitarian exigencies intervened, however, and her program never materialized. In 1915, Boyd Hawes returned to Greece, not to excavate, but to establish an emergency field hospital off Corfu to care for the desperately ill, starved remnants of the retreating Serbian army. In 1917, she served as a nurse’s aid in the American Hospital in Longchamps and organized, established, and directed the 54 55 56 57

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Philadelphia Ledger, March 5, 1902. Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 857, Folder 59. New York Times, September 25, 1904. Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 857, Folder 59. ALLEN 2009 (supra n. 1). Boyd wrote of the “usual outcry against American work that is begun and not carried through. Shall American excavations on Crete come to an end?” Boyd to President Gilman of Johns Hopkins University (undated). Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Smith College Archives. Presidents’ reports to the board of trustees of Smith College (1885-1886). HAWES (supra n 44); H.B. HAWES, “Gournia. Report of the American Exploration Society’s Excavations at Gournia, Crete, 1904,” Transactions of the Department of Archaeology, Free Museum of Science and Anthropology, University of Pennsylvania 3 (1905) 177-90. H.B. HAWES, “Ideas for School” and “General Ideas,” Diary Entry December 19, 1914. Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers Box 851A, and Box 857.

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Smith College Relief Unit, the first such private group of women to serve in France in the devastated region of Grècourt.61 She described herself as “as a past archaeologist concerned with the present and the future.62 Criteria critical to Boyd’s archaeological success depended on her acquisition of Modern Greek which enabled her to communicate directly with Greek royalty, elite, intelligentsia, and peasantry; her acquisition of important social and political contacts which impacted her ability to gain excavation permits; her immersion and engagement led to her empathy with contemporary Greeks; opening hospitals which demonstrated her ability to take charge and lead men and women in emotionally stressful and physically punishing circumstances; her forging of solid female partnerships which provided emotional and intellectual support in a hostile male environment and taught her the necessity of collegiality and teamwork; her acquisition and practice of skills of observation and communication which helped her express and promote her ideas to various constituencies: funders, lay and scholarly audiences and increased her name recognition in the United States and Europe. After struggling to navigate the gendered hierarchy of relief work, Boyd succeeded in blazing a trail for future generations of women through a minefield of gender bias while acting within acceptable gender constraints. All derived from her experience as a nurse in the Greco-Turkish War of 1897. In addition, Boyd was aided by an iron will forged in childhood, the anomalous political situation following Cretan independence, the financial support and promotional network of Sara Yorke Stevenson and the American Exploration Society, and the flexibility and institutional affiliation given by Smith College. Boyd’s acquisition of Modern Greek led directly to her desire to work in Crete and ability to communicate with all echelons of Greek society. Having survived the privations of nursing at the front gave Boyd the necessary self-confidence in her endurance and proved her ability to withstand physical and emotional hardship. It schooled her in Greek politics, geography, and topography. Without Boyd’s wartime trials, lasting five months, she would not have made the same progress in the field of archaeology. Unanticipated aspects of her journey and choices made while surmounting the hurdles placed in her path prepared and enabled her to succeed in the field. “Without this experience resulting in intimate acquaintance with Greek peasant character and warm liking for the people, my work in Crete would probably never have been undertaken… I had learned to manage sick and wounded soldiers in a ward before I tried to direct workmen in an excavation.”63 When excavation opportunities opened up on Crete, Boyd was prepared, a self-supporting single woman, fluent in Greek, tested by war, experienced in working collaboratively with Greeks and passionately invested in Greek affairs. She dug there and published the results, armed with hard-won skills, intellect, confidence, and empathy, firmly supported by the Greeks (Athenian aristocrats and Cretans) because she had supported them. Susan Heuck ALLEN

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Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 864, Folder 113. Box 862, Folders 149-161. H.B. HAWES Journal January 1, 1920. Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers Box 851A, Folder 19. H. BOYD, “Experiences in War, 1897,” Harriet Boyd Hawes Papers, Box 864, Folder 115; Box 861 Folders 123-140; Box 10.

E-QE-TA: CONCEPTIONS OF WARRIOR BEAUTY AND CONSTRUCTIONS OF MASCULINITY ON POSTPALATIAL CRETE8 Introduction Studies of warriors, weaponry, and warrior iconography have a long history throughout the Mediterranean. The bibliography on warrior beauty as connected to constructions of masculinity, however, is much smaller. It was first examined regarding Europe by Paul Treherne in the Journal of European Archaeology in 1995, shortly after the publication of Engendering Archaeology by Margaret Conkey and the late Joan Gero in 1989. The first, and to our knowledge, only conference on gender in the Aegean Bronze Age was held in 2005 and published in 2009 as FYLO, an initiative promoted strongly by John G. Younger. John has been on the forefront of promoting gender studies in the Aegean, and so, we are grateful to be able to dedicate this paper to him. Most of the participants in that conference were women, and most papers dealt with female identity. There is a small and growing bibliography on masculinity on Crete and on warrior beauty in the Mediterranean; with renewed interest in this topic generated by studies of warrior burials at the time of the “Sea Peoples” and by new discoveries such as the grave of the “Griffin Warrior” at Pylos.1 Warrior beauty can be identified through a funerary template communicating status. It includes toiletry items (frequently Italic), weaponry (frequently Italic), bodily adornment (including exotica), ritual consumption of alcohol, perfumed oil in stirrup jars, and identification of the physical capability for armed combat.2 While we want to resist the heteronormativity of a weapon equals ∗

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The authors are grateful to the editors for this opportunity to honor our friend, mentor, teacher, and colleague John Younger. LAH’s research was partially supported by The University of Melbourne, Faculty of Arts Universal Grant Fund (FIGS). LT is indebted to the following people for help dating cave artifacts, suggesting references, comparanda, and for discussion: especially Reinhard Jung but also Sabine Beckmann, Anna Lucia D’Agata, Sara de Angelis, Leslie Day, Don Evely, Cheryl Floyd, Antonis Kotsonas, Ioannis Lagamtzis, Angeliki Lebessi, Barry Molloy, Polymnia Muhly, Andrea di Renzoni, Peter Tomkins, and Bob Bernat for article scanning. LT thanks the 13th Ephorate of Prehistoric and Classical Antiquities, the Greek Ministry of Culture, and the Herakleion Archaeological Museum for permission to study the bronze figurines from caves in conjunction with her book, in preparation, on the Sacred Caves of Bronze Age Crete. E-Qe-Ta is conventionally translated as ‘follower’ and assigned a military function. For a detailed discussion, see B. MONTECCHI, “E-QE-TA and E-MI-TO: on Linear B Tablet KN Am(2) 821 Military Officials and Soldiers,” Pasiphae. Rivista di Filologia e Antichità Egee 8 (2014) 79-96, esp. 79-80. The following abbreviations are used: HM = Herakleion Archaeological Museum. BOARDMAN = J. BOARDMAN, The Cretan Collection in Oxford. The Dictaean Cave and Iron Age Crete (1961). LEBESSI = A. LEBESSI, Το Ιερό του Ερμή και της Αφροδίτης στή Σύμη. Τα χάλκινα ανθρωπóμορφα ειδώλια 3 (2002). NAUMANN = U. NAUMANN, Subminoische und protogeometrische Bronzeplastik auf Kreta (1976). VERLINDEN = C. VERLINDEN, Les statuettes anthropomorphes crétoises en bronze et en plomb, du IIIe millénaire du VIIe siècle av. J.-C. (1984). Among the most tantalizing finds from this tomb for the purposes of this paper is the “Combat Agate,” a seal, probably of Minoan workmanship depicting a battle scene where a warrior in Minoan dress is clearly dominant, see S.R. STOCKER and J.L. DAVIS, “The Combat Agate from the Grave of the Griffin Warrior at Pylos,” Hesperia 86 (2017) 583-605. On the “warrior package” in the Aegean, see S. VITALE, N. BLACKWELL and C. MCNAMEE, “Kos, Italy, and Europe During the Mycenaean Period: Evidence for a Special Connection,” in M. FOTIADIS, R. LAFFINEUR, Y. LOLOS and A. VLACHOPOULOS (eds), HESPEROS. The Aegean Seen From the West (2017) 243-252. On the importance of funerary offerings of perfumed oil as part of the warrior aesthetic as

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warrior ethos, we intend to discuss more meager evidence for masculine warrior beauty through an examination of non-funerary contexts for items associated with the funerary complex as attested in cave sanctuaries and in domestic dwellings on Crete. Ritual Evidence of Warrior Identity from Cretan Caves The end of the “Third” palace period in Crete in LM IIIB early (ca 1320-1200 B.C.) and the beginning of the Iron Age, coupled with population movement to defensible sites in Crete in LM IIIC (ca 1200-1100 B.C.), brought an end to large-scale communal rituals at cave sanctuaries that once served the major and minor settlements of the region.3 With the abandonment of many smaller settlements for more defensible inland locations, cave sanctuaries subsequently served smaller, scattered communities.4 Smaller caves nearer these remote sites became focal points, e.g. Phaneromeni in the northern foothills of Lasithi. Architecture (such as altars), formalized ritual vessels and objects, that once referenced palace elites, and enormous quantities of pottery vessels used for food preparation and the pouring and consumption of liquids gave way to individual offerings, deposited by elite worshipers celebrating in drinking events. Their offerings, some being of metal, allow a window into changes in Crete that sheds light on the overlooked topic of masculine beauty and power as well as a culture of drinking at the very end of the Cretan Bronze Age. Dating of cave artifacts is necessarily broad given the mixed stratigraphy typical of caves in use for millennia, the lack of securely dated comparanda, and the typological longevity of most. Some weapons and implements retained their Late Bronze form through the Early Iron Age, into the 8th-7th c. B.C. This is especially so for small bronze implements, such as tweezers, that did not require the expense or greater durability of iron; thus, being preserved for centuries. Although large settlements such as Quartier Nu at Malia and Building C-D at Sissi continued to thrive in LM IIIB,5 Postpalatial is used here as an umbrella

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known from burials that were mainly discovered in east Crete, see J.P. CRIELAARD, “The ‘Wanax to Basileus Model’ Reconsidered: Authority and Ideology After the Collapse of the Mycenaean Palaces,” 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 (2011) 97; S. DEGER-JALKOTZY, “Late Mycenaean Warrior Tombs,” in S. DEGER-JALKOTZY and I.S. LEMNOS (eds), Ancient Greece from the Mycenaean Palaces to the Age of Homer (2006) 164-165; A. KANTA “Aristocrats – Traders – Emigrants – Settlers: Crete in the Closing Phases of the Bronze Age,” in N. STAMPOLIDIS and V. KARAGEORGHIS (eds), Ploes… Sea Routes, Interconnections in the Mediterranean 16th – 6th c. BC. Proceedings of the International Symposium held at Rethymnon, Crete, 29 September-2 October 2002 (2003) 173-184; A.J. KOH and K.J. BIRNEY, “Organic Compounds and Cultural Continuity: The Penn Museum Late Minoan IIIC Stirrup Jar From Tourloti,” Mediterranean Archaeology and Archaeometry 17.2 (2017) 19-33. On the importance of studying the skeletal remains, L.A. HITCHCOCK, “Gender and Violence in Archaeology: Final Commentary,” in U. MATIĆ and B. JENSON (eds) Archaeologies of Gender and Violence (2017) 264-274. Dates are approximate and based on P. REHAK and J. YOUNGER, “Review of Aegean Prehistory VII: Neopalatial, Final Palatial, and Post-Palatial Crete,” AJA 102 (1998) 91-173, who deal with the chronological issues in more detail. S. WALLACE, Ancient Crete. From Successful Collapse to Democracy's Alternatives, Twelfth to Fifth Centuries BC (2010); K. NOWICKI, Defensible Sites in Crete c. 1200-800 B.C. (LM IIIB/IIIC through Early Geometric) (2000); K. NOWICKI, “Settlement in Crisis: The End of the LM/LH IIIB and Early IIIC in Crete and Other South Aegean Islands,” 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 (2011) 435-450; L.A. HITCHCOCK and A.M. MAEIR, “Pirates of the Crete-Aegean: Migration, Mobility, and Post-Palatial Realities at the End of the Bronze Age,” Πεπραγμένα ΙB΄Διεθνούς Κρητολογικού Συνεδρίου (Ηράκλειο, 21-25 Σεπτεμβρίου 2016) A (2018) 1-12. support Nowicki’s proposal that the postpalatial settlements of Kato Kastellas in the Gorge of the Dead and Kastri (Palaikastro) were pirate settlements, correlating well with the clustering of warrior burials in east Crete as discussed above. See L.A. HITCHCOCK and A.M. MAEIR, “Lost in Translation: Settlement Organization in Postpalatial Crete, A View from the East,” in Q. LETESSON and C. KNAPPETT (eds), Minoan Architecture and Urbanism. New Perspectives on an Ancient Built Environment (2017) 289-333, with further details

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term to cover the phases marking the final Bronze to Iron Age transition, from LM IIIB to LM IIIC. Where possible, a narrower date is tentatively offered. Evidence comes from several caves (Idaean Cave, Melidoni, Liliano, Phaneromeni, Mameloukou Trypa, Lera, Arkoudia, and Koumarospilio) but Psychro Cave provides the focus given its greater number of published artifacts and its proximity to the LM IIIC settlement of Karphi. Does the evidence from LM IIIB, LM IIIC, and Subminoan sacred caves provide evidence that pirates ravaged Crete beginning in LM IIIB and continuing into early IIIC or rather does the evidence reflect changes brought about by the unrest caused by their general presence in the Aegean at that time?6 Can we construe male beauty, which formed a component of pirate, bandit, mercenary or other warrior grooming, from the artifacts dedicated at Psychro and other caves during the Postpalatial period? Artifacts from the end of the Bronze Age, from the LM IIIC-Subminoan phases, that may reference male participation in cave rituals are examined here.7 The range of Postpalatial artifacts discussed here include some imported items amongst the costly bronzes (anthropomorphic figurines, weapons, dress accessories, and toiletry articles) and those of clay (wheelmade animal figures and pottery). Is male beauty indicated by the artifacts dedicated at sacred caves during the Postpalatial period? At first glance, male bronze figurines attributable to the end of the Bronze Age would suggest otherwise.8 Characteristics of earlier, MM III-LM IA, figurines9 reflect the importance of male beauty and vigor among elites in the Neopalatial period.10 They show an ideal, youthful male physique, a sinuous body posture, and a luxuriant hairstyle.11 Elite males of the Neopalatial period possibly shared a lifestyle within a distinct status group that was to some degree probably socially distant and exclusive, as has been proposed for elite males in Bronze Age northern Europe.12 Their generic representations and lack of

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and references. On the fragmentary evidence for other post-palatial settlements on Crete including Chania where Linear B continued in use in LM IIIB, see REHAK and YOUNGER (supra n. 3) 149-173. L.A. HITCHCOCK and A.M. MAEIR, “Yo Ho, Yo Ho, A Seren’s Life for Me,” World Archaeology 46.4 (2014) 624-640; more recently and with specific reference to Crete, HITCHCOCK and MAEIR (supra n. 5). Our goal is to stimulate discussion of the ideas presented here and we acknowledge the possibility that many of the items we might attribute to males, may have been also dedicated by females or even mourners as discussed in C.J. FRIEMAN, J. BRÜCK, K. REBAY-SALISBURY, S. BERGERBRANT, S. MONTÓN SUBÍAS, J. SOFAER, C.J. KNÜSEL, H. VANKILDE, M. GILES and P. TREHERNE, “Aging Well: Treherne’s ‘Warrior Beauty’ Two Decades Later,” EJA 30 (2017) 36-73. NAUMANN’s dating of the bronze anthropomorphic figurines is followed here because her treatise focuses on the end of the Bronze Age and the beginning of the Iron Age, from LM IIIB through the Protogeometric period. The Early Iron Age is not covered by E. SAPOUNA-SAKELLARAKI, Die bronzenen Menschenfiguren auf Kreta und in der Ägäis (1995). Of the three major studies focusing on bronze anthropomorphic figurines from the Cretan Bronze Age, VERLINDEN’S catalogue is the most extensive chronologically, spanning the entire Bronze Age through to the 7th c. B.C. For convenience, VERLINDEN’S catalogue numbers are used as a reference point since her work alone includes the entire chronological range. The impact, of following NAUMANN’S LM IIIB-Subminoan dating, means that very few cave figurines belong stylistically to the Final Palatial period (LM II-LM IIIA/B1), contra L.V. WATROUS, The Cave Sanctuary of Zeus at Psychro. A Study of Extra-Urban Sanctuaries in Minoan and Early Iron Age Crete (1996) 53 n. 111; 60 n. 27. Moreover, the majority, following NAUMANN, belong to the Postpalatial rather than the Neopalatial period. LEBESSI 317-318. E.g. Psychro fragment, VERLINDEN no. 25. N. MARINATOS, “Formalism and Gender Roles: A Comparison of Minoan and Egyptian Art,” in R. LAFFINEUR and W.-D. NIEMEIER (eds), POLITEIA. Society and State in the Aegean Bronze Age (1995) 578; LEBESSI 36-41, 317. P. TREHERNE, “The Warrior's Beauty: The Masculine Body and Self-Identity in Bronze-Age Europe,” Journal of European Archaeology 3 (1995) 105-144.

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individual features, especially indistinct or non-existent facial features,13 suggests that group membership was of greater importance than the individual.14 Memorializing significant ritual actions in their lives may have been an important part of group membership. Based on hair styles portrayed in Neopalatial iconography, Koehl15 proposed that rites of passage, which he believes were Minoan in origin (but interprets based on later classical archaeology), were based on the societal structure of age grades referencing transitional stages of maturation.16 He suggested that these applied to elites of the Neopalatial period and later, linking the social and religious spheres.17 Koehl’s18 three-phase sequence of male hairstyles, each with successive stages of hair growth, cutting, and growth, supports the tripartite system of initiation rites for Minoan youths proposed by Willets.19 Although there is no evidence from cave sanctuaries, or Syme sanctuary,20 for a Neopalatial age grade structure, the relative age inferred for Neopalatial hairstyles could equally apply to those portrayed

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LEBESSI 317. Another possibility is that those viewing the images are expecting more individuality for ruler portraiture than may have been customary based on training in Classics and/or a Eurocentric perspective. Not all depictions of Near Eastern kings show identifiable portrait-like characteristics. See for example, the plaque of Ur-Nanshe in the Louvre who ruled Sumer in 2500 B.C., who would not be identifiable without an inscription. The only indications of his status are the depictions of him in hierarchic scale and engaging in building and drinking, see D. HANSEN, “Royal Building Activity in Sumerian Lagash in the Early Dynastic Period,” BA 55 (1992) 206-211. D. PREZIOSI and L.A. HITCHCOCK, Aegean Art and Architecture (1999) 142-144, have suggested that one of the bronze figurines from Kato Syme has individuating features, while the male figure standing on a horns of consecration, flanked by a winged goat and genius on a seal from Chania is engaging in activities that may be regarded as divine or royal. Such conflations are known from Egypt and the Near East. We suggest that many more elite “portraits” could be identified if scholars modified their criteria taking into account contemporary Bronze Age comparanda. On corporate membership, see P. REHAK, “The Construction of Gender in Late Bronze Age Aegean Art. A Prolegomenon,” in M. CASEY, D. DONLON, J. HOPE and S. WELLFARE (eds), Redefining Archaeology. Feminist Perspectives (1999) 191; M. DÍAZ-ANDREU and S. LUCY, “Gender identity. Introduction,” in M. DIAZ-ANDREU, S. LUCY, S. BABIC and D. N. EDWARDS (eds), The Archaeology of identity. Approaches to Gender Age, Status, Ethnicity and Religion (2005 ) 1-2; J. DRIESSEN, “For an Archaeology of Minoan Society. Identifying the Principles of Social Structure,” in S. CAPPEL, U. GÜNKEL-MASCHEK and D. PANAGIOTOPOULOS (eds), Minoan Archaeology. Perspectives for the 21st Century. Proceedings of the International PhD and Post-Doc Conference at Heidelberg, 23-27 March 2011 (2015) 153; L.A. HITCHCOCK and M. NIKOLAIDOU, “Gender in Greek and Aegean Prehistory,” in D. BOLGER (ed.), A Companion to Gender Prehistory (2013) 513. R.B. KOEHL, “The Chieftain Cup and a Minoan Rite of Passage,” JHS 106 (1986) 104-110; R.B. KOEHL, “Ritual Context,” in J.A. MACGILLIVRAY, J.M. DRIESSEN and L.H. SACKETT (eds), The Palaikastro Kouros. A Minoan Chryselephantine Statuette and Its Aegean Bronze Age Context (2000) 131-132; R.B. KOEHL, “Beyond the ‘Chieftain Cup’: More Images Relating to Minoan Male ‘Rites of Passage’,” in R.B. KOEHL (ed.), Studies in Aegean Art and Culture. A New York Aegean Bronze Age Colloquium in Memory of E.N. Davis (2016) 123. For a different view see A.P. CHAPIN, “Constructions of Male Youth and Gender in Aegean Art: The Evidence from Late Bronze Age Crete and Thera,” in E. KOPAKA (ed.), FYLO. Engendering Prehistoric ‘Stratigraphies’ in the Aegean and the Mediterranean (2009) 175-181, who shows that while young men had varying lengths of hair, the style cannot always be neatly correlated to age grade. Also see E.N. DAVIS, “Youth and Age in the Thera Frescoes,” AJA 90 (1986) 399-406. For a discussion of the contrast of commodified time used in the present, and biological rhythms of time, see M. SHANKS and C. TILLEY, “Abstract and substantial time,” Archaeological Review from Cambridge 6 (1987) 32-41. Koehl’s interpretation of a possible pederastic ritual on the Chieftain Cup, along with the broader evidence he extrapolates from other Minoan and post-Minoan representations that he applies to the Neopalatial period, is tenuous and demands a re-examination. KOEHL 2000, 2016 (supra n. 15). R.F. WILLETTS, Aristocratic society in ancient Crete (1955) 13-17. LEBESSI 348.

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on bronze figurines dedicated at sacred caves as they have been for Syme sanctuary.21 Hairstyles as a form of body modification, are the perfect medium for signaling transitional states in a person’s life, due to their semi-permanence. Bronze cut-out plaques, dating from ca 700 to the end of the fifth century B.C., from Syme sanctuary have allowed Lebessi22 to piece together the Cretan educational system. She concludes that pederasty formed the basis of Cretan education in Archaic societies. At Syme, the temporary relationship between the philetor (an adult male member of the elite class responsible for a youth’s instruction for eligibility to become a full, elite member of society) and the eromenos (the youth and temporary lover of the philetor) is suggested by helmeted figures of group 15 and cup-bearer 17, both belonging to the Geometric style. Group 15 is composed of two figures that are of unequal heights, suggesting a difference in age. The older figure takes the youth by the hand, which indicates he is guiding the youth to introduce him in the andreion (the dining hall for male members of society).23 Their socially equal status is indicated by the plaque upon which they stand, together. Their erotic, but temporary relationship, is suggested by the erect penis. Free-standing cup bearer 17 holds a vessel that derives its shape from Minoan chalices, a form that no longer occurs after the Neopalatial period. This cup’s form foreshadows the institutionalized gift, a cup, given by the philetor to the eromenos after completion of the youth’s training. Lebessi24 concludes that the Cretan educational (instruction) system did not begin until the 12th or th 11 centuries. Thus, the youth’s training, that consisted of two months of instruction in the mountains specified by Strabo25 for the historic period, could not apply prior to the very end of the Bronze Age. Lebessi bases her conclusion for its beginning on the individuality of the Syme bronze figurines dating from the 12th or 11th centuries and later, the wide ranges of portrayed subjects from that time on, and the presence of arm-bearing figurines that indicate instruction in war that corresponds to the militarism of that time.26 Although a system of educational instruction did not begin until the very end of the Bronze Age, it cannot be precluded that some form of maturation rites took place in Minoan Crete. It can be easily accepted based on the temporal rhythms in agriculturally based societies as known from anthropology.27 It is also quite possible that weapons and warrior training took the form of dance, which could teach young warriors the proper manipulation of weapons while building muscle memory, facial expressions, and postures.28 For some peak and cave sanctuaries, Briault29 hypothesizes that double axes deposited in these sanctuaries may have been dedications linked to investiture rites.30 Briault’s idea that offering a bronze 21 22 23 24 25 26

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LEBESSI 317-318, 334-335, adorants 1-5. LEBESSI 338, 343-344, 346-347. LEBESSI 337. LEBESSI 348. Strabo 10.4.21 C483-4. Strabo claims to be quoting Ephorus. LEBESSI 348; J.D. MUHLY, “The Crisis Years in the Mediterranean World: Transition or Cultural Disintegration?,” in W.A. WARD and M.S. JOUKOWSKY (eds), The Crisis Years. The 12th Century B.C..: From Beyond the Danube to the Tigris (1992) 10-26. SHANKS and TILEY (supra n. 16); W.A. HAVILAND, H.E.L. PRINS, B. MCBRIDE and D. WALRATH, Cultural Anthropology: The Human Challenge (13 th ed, 2011) 263-264; 326-329. The Maori have several types of dances, called haka, that include the wielding of weapons and the demonstration of warrior postures and expressions to be used in fighting, which are still performed today at sports events and in cultural performances, see S.J. JACKSON and B. HOKOWHITU, “Sport, Tribes, and Technology,” Journal of Sport and Social Issues 26 (2002) 125-139. C. BRIAULT, “High Fidelity or Chinese Whispers? Cult Symbols and Ritual Transmission in the Bronze Age Aegean,” JMA 20 (2007) esp. 252-253. LT does not accept Arkalochori as a Neopalatial sacred cave, which Briault includes, because: Arkalochori is an elongated cavity with a low ceiling (not a cave); the bronzes are homogeneous; and the bronzes are mostly deposited in several large piles (S. MARINATOS, “Ausgrabungen und Funde auf Kreta 1934-1935,” AA 50 [1935] 248, 251-252; L. TYREE, “Defining Bronze Age Ritual Caves in Crete,” in F. MAVRIDIS and J.T. JENSEN (eds), Stable Places and Changing Perceptions. Cave Archaeology in

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double axe marked a special occasion is connected to the rarity of its deposition in a ritual context, whereby she estimates that the Minoans deposited an axe once every two to ten years.31 At Syme, however, Lebessi32 suggests that the gesture and iconographic parallels for a LM IB bronze figurine, which is also exceptional for its size and quality, indicates a focus on purification. Its gesture, hands on chest, is unusual for a male, but one that is characteristic of superhuman figures in narrative scenes. It has a parallel on a seal depicting a male standing on top of a horn of consecration who is flanked by a Minoan ‘genius’, who holds a libation jug, and a winged goat. The scene indicates a water libation or purification ritual.33 The identical gesture of the Syme figurine, and its excavation context, suggests that the figure was a participant in such a ritual. Figurines from caves cannot be readily associated with a specific ritual although ritual vessels (e.g. chalices, libation tables) and domestic pottery suggest that rites involved libations, drinking, and eating.34 Nevertheless, figurines from caves can be regarded as dedications standing in for the worshipper,35 a view enhanced by the proposal that inscribed stone libation tables, such as the one found near the altar at Psychro,36 bear the name of the dedicant; thus preserving the dedicant’s name and gift in perpetuity, memorializing the ritual performed.37 The dedicant in this case was possibly a priest or scribe who knew the art of writing or someone else, also conceivably of high status or position, who could afford to have such an expensive stone offering inscribed. As at Syme, whether the dedicants had a different economic

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Greece [2013] 177). An alternative hypothesis seems more plausible for the use of Arkalochori. The bronzes may have been part of a palatial hoard connected with the palace at Galatas in LM I (G. RETHEMIOTAKIS, “Το νέο μινωικό ανάκτορο στον Γαλατά Πεδιάδος και το ‘ιερό σπήλαιο’ Αρκαλοχωρίου,” in A. KARETSOU [ed.], Κρήτες Θαλασσοδρόμοι [1999] 105-107, 111; for a contrary opinion see WATROUS [supra n. 8] 57; and, L. PLATON, “The Uses of Caves in Minoan Crete: A Diachronic Analysis,” in F. MAVRIDIS and J.T. JENSEN [eds], Stable Places and Changing Perceptions. Cave Archaeology in Greece [2013] 155-159. These metal objects were conceivably selectively collected from sanctuaries and kept by the palace for purposes of metal and gift exchange (A. MICHAILIDOU, “Measuring Weight and Value in Bronze Age Economies in the Aegean and the Near East: A Discussion on Metal Axes of No Practical Use,” in K.P. Foster and R. LAFINEUR [eds], METRON. Measuring the Aegean Bronze Age [2003] 310-311; G. RETHEMIOTAKIS, “Minoan Religion: Deities, Sanctuaries, and Cults,” in M. ANDREADAKI-VLAZAKI, G. RETHEMIOTAKIS and N. DIMOPOULOU-RETHEMIOTAKI [eds], From the land of the Labyrinth. Minoan Crete, 3000-1100 B.C. Essays [2008] 83). BRIAULT (supra n. 29) 252; also L.A. HITCHCOCK, A.M. MAEIR and A. DAGAN, “The Entanglement of Aegean Style Ritual Actions in Philistine Culture,” in E. ALRAM-STERN, F. BLAKOLMER, S. DEGER-JALKOTZY, J. WEILHARTNER and R. LAFFINEUR (eds), METAPHYSIS. Ritual, Myth and Symbolism in the Aegean Bronze Age, Proceedings of the 15th International Aegean Conference, Institute for Mediterranean and Prehistoric Archaeology, Department for Aegean and Mycenaean Research and at the Institute of Classical Archaeology, University of Vienna, 22-25 April 2014 (2016) 519-528. LEBESSI 317-318, 346-348. See also, HITCHCOCK (supra n. 2). WATROUS (supra n. 8) 90 suggests rites of initiation; on libation tables and ladles, see B.E. DAVIS, Minoan Stone Vessels with Linear A Inscriptions (2014) 36. L.A. HITCHCOCK, “Engendering Domination: A Structural and Contextual Analysis of Minoan Neopalatial Bronze Figurines,” in E. SCOTT and J. MOORE (eds), Invisible People and Processes. Writing Gender and Child into European Archaeology (1997). D.G. HOGARTH, “The Dictaean Cave. Preliminary Report,” BSA 6 (1899-1900) 114, Pl. 11; BOARDMAN 63-67. DAVIS (supra n. 34) 48-50, 130-132, 279, 363-364. However, the name need not necessarily be included for the figurine to be transmitting its message in perpetuity, as discussed in L.A. HITCHCOCK, “A Near Eastern Perspective on Ethnicity in Minoan Crete: The Further Tale of Conical Cups,” in P.P. BETANCOURT, V. KARAGEORGHIS, R. LAFFINEUR and W.D. NEIMEIER (eds), Meletemata. Studies in Aegean Archaeology presented to Malcolm H. Wiener as He Enters his 65th Year (1999), 371-379, esp. 375; L.A. HITCHCOCK, Minoan Architecture: A Contextual Analysis (2000) 110-112.

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status, it appears that they belonged to the same elite group, rather than a separate one.38 They used, as is evident from the figurines, elaborate hairstyles and taut physiques to distinguish themselves.39 Toilet articles conceivably played an important role in the grooming process as such items transform the body, especially hair dressing and shaving,40 a possible age indicator as well as a means of display and social distinction. Although we are familiar with the deposition of toilet articles in Prepalatial tombs, it is not so certain, as Watrous41 suggests, that any of the many razors and tweezers from Psychro Cave belong to the LM I period. Such items, with their long-lived form, are difficult to distinguish chronologically, except for some razors that are comparable to those from Karphi, which indicates an LM IIIC date. Dedication of Neopalatial toilet articles may not have been necessary since the Neopalatial use of toilet articles is implied given the evident grooming and beauty vividly portrayed by bronze figurines, seals and sealings, and wall-paintings: the well-groomed appearance, taught and muscular bodies, shaven faces, and elaborately braided hairstyles or the unusual and carefully arranged mohawk as seen on the Palaikastro “kouros”.42 The significance of male hairstyles may have been more than aesthetics as the head, in many cultures, is often considered to be a life source, and, consequently hair, both of the head and body, seems to have been a symbol of sexual potency.43 Could the importance of head/hair be referenced by the handto-head gesture of Neopalatial bronze figurines from caves and other sanctuaries as well as portrayed on other iconographic media? In the literature, this gesture is known as the ‘adoration gesture’44 or the ‘Minoan salute’.45 It can be argued that this gesture, when associated with ritual activity, indicated receptiveness by the dedicant of the deity’s confirmation of whatever the individual is about to undertake, whether conflict, assumptions of power, or whatever it may have been. It is a long-lived gesture that begins in the Neopalatial period and, for male figurines from caves, it continues through to the LM III and Subminoan periods, with examples from both Psychro and Phaneromeni Caves.46 The hypermasculinised depictions of Neopalatial men suggests that their societal roles and status were linked symbolically to physical strength focusing on athletics, hunting, and war.47 They would have needed a fit physique for the bull-related spectacles and boxing matches (and other unarmed combats that were not depicted but were probably more commonly performed) that were popular elite sports depicted on numerous Neopalatial pictorial representations.48 The Postpalatial style shows a shift from generic representations emphasizing male beauty and grooming, to a style that is indicated by a lack of

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LEBESSI 346. Cf. J. MARCUS, Women’s ritual in formative Oaxaca. Figure-making, Divination, Death, and the Ancestors (1998) 45 for the elaborate hairstyles of the Oaxaca figurines from Mexico belonging to 1400-1150 B.C. TREHERNE (supra n. 12) 125. WATROUS (supra n. 8) 50, 89-91; also, KOEHL 2000 (supra n. 15) 143. For the Palaikastro Kouros, see MACGILLIVRAY et al. (supra n. 15). Skull curation was a common feature of burials extending from the Neolithic Near East to Iron Age Europe, see, for example, I. ARMIT, Headhunting and the Body in Iron Age Europe (2011). Potency is equated with hair in ancient Egypt, where women kept their hair long beneath their wigs as discussed by G. ROBINS, “Hair and the Construction of Identity in Ancient Egypt, c. 1480-1350 BC,” JARCE 36 (1999) 55-69, and was the source of Samson’s strength as related in the Old Testament Judges 13-16; also TREHERNE (supra n. 12) 125-126. VERLINDEN 57. HITCHCOCK (supra n. 35) 113-130; also M. WEDDE, “Talking Hands: A Study of Minoan and Mycenaean Ritual Gesture,” in BETANCOURT et al. eds (supra n. 37) 911-920. Two examples of Subminoan figurines from these caves with this gesture, based on NAUMANN’S dating, are: Psychro, nos S10, S13, Pl. 6.1, 6.4; Phaneromeni, nos S15, S16, Pl. 7.2, 7.3. These are VERLINDEN nos 145, 163 for Psychro; nos 151, 196 for Phaneromeni. LEBESSI 53-54, 62-63, 319 also indicates a Subminoan date for the two from Phaneromeni and NAUMANN no. S13 from Psychro. MARINATOS (supra n. 11) 578-581. J. RUTTER, “Sport in the Aegean Bronze Age,” in P. CHRISTESEN and D.G. KYLE (eds), A Companion to Sport and Spectacle in Greek and Roman Antiquity (2014) 38-42.

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musculature and hair that was not as elaborate or as full.49 The careless craftsmanship and clumsiness in quality is seen in early examples of this style, already in the LM IIIB period, perhaps in an attempt to purge bronze figurines of their Minoan character and expression.50 These later ‘individualized’ figurines are characterized by attributes such as weapons or offerings.51 The LM IIIC and Subminoan style portrays hair that is either difficult to discern or is not shown. A military aspect seems to have continued symbolically in the nudity of bronzes dating to the LM IIIC and Subminoan periods. Nudity is difficult to determine on the LM IIIC or Subminoan bronze figurines from either Psychro or Phaneromeni Caves but two from Psychro could be nude;52 and, also two from Phaneromeni.53 At Syme, a military aspect is indicated directly by the arms-bearer figurine that belongs to the last phase of the LM IIIC period.54 Although we do not know who dedicated bronze anthropomorphic figurines from the Neopalatial through the LM IIIB period, figurines represented both males and females who were members of an elite group as suggested by having access to bronze. Like figures in contemporary narrative representations, bronze figurines from the palatial era focused on the sex, age, and status of the person represented. These characteristics (a palatial connection, sex, and age of an individual), appear to have been of greater significance for social groupings than family ties.55 Although it has been argued that the sexes are differentiated by portraying bare breasts for females and the codpiece for males, which calls attention to, without exposing, the male genitals, the lack of exposure could be concealing a more fluid gender identity than traditional scholarship has been willing to acknowledge.56 Further distinctions can be seen in the differences in dress and hairstyles.57 The Neopalatial dress conveyed a youthful and potent aspect. The Postpalatial style elicits a shift in the dress of both male and female bronze figurines. By the LM IIIC/Subminoan period, the penis becomes fully exposed on bronze figurines from caves, if not by LM IIIC then by the Subminoan phase.58 The approach is bolder, given the emphatic representation of the penis (to borrow an expression of Lebessi).59 Perhaps nudity relates to and emphasizes evident youthful physiological features, such as the lack of musculature and an elongated torso. Male nudity is not a Minoan characteristic but one that marks a break from Minoan tradition.60 It can be hypothesized that this presents a shift from aesthetic beauty, which characterized elites as a group, as fit and youthful, to possibly a procreative focus. Nudity may also begin the reference to heroism as traditionally seen in

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LEBESSI 330, 335. NAUMANN 25, 29. On the general decline in the arts in the Postpalatial period, see P. REHAK, “Aegean Art before and after the LM IB Cretan Destructions,” in R. LAFFINEUR and P.P. BETANCOURT (eds), TEXNH. Craftsmen, Craftswomen and Craftsmanship in the Aegean Bronze Age (1997) 51-52, 61. LEBESSI 346. Although attributes cannot be clearly demonstrated for Postpalatial figurines from caves, individualize features are evident, Psychro: VERLINDEN no. 154 (NAUMANN 25, 29, no. S23). VERLINDEN nos 163 and 197. VERLINDEN nos 161 and 162. LEBESSI 318, 335-336, adorant 9. A. UCHITEL, “Women at Work. Pylos and Knossos, Lagash and Ur,” Historia. Zeitschrift für alte Geschichte 33 (1984) 259; B.A. OLSEN, “Women, Children and the Family in the Late Bronze Age: Differences in Minoan and Mycenaean Constructions of Gender,” World Archaeology 29 (1998); E. BABOULA, “ ‘Buried’ metal in Late Minoan inheritance customs,” in C.F.E. PARE (ed.), Metals Make the World Go Round. The Supply and Circulation of Metals in Bronze Age Europe. Proceedings of a conference held at the University of Birmingham in June 1997 (2000) 76; J. RUTTER, “Children in Aegean Prehistory,” in J. NEILS and J.H. OAKLEY (eds), Coming of Age in Ancient Greece. Images of Childhood from the Classical Past (2003) 49. MARINATOS (supra n. 11) 578, 582-583; M.M. LEE, “Deciphering Gender in Minoan Dress,” in A.E. RAUTMAN (ed.), Reading the Body. Representations and Remains in the Archaeological Record (2000) 119; G. CADOGAN, “Gender metaphors of social stratigraphy in pre-linear B Crete, or Is 'Minoan gynaecocracy' (still) credible?,” in KOPAKA ed. (supra n. 16) 228; DRIESSEN (supra n. 14) 154. DRIESSEN (supra n. 14) 153-154; LEE (supra n. 56); REHAK (supra n. 14) 193-195. E.g. Psychro: VERLINDEN nos 156-157, 163, and 197; NAUMANN nos S10, S12, S14 (no. 197 not in NAUMANN); Phaneromeni: VERLINDEN nos 161-162; NAUMANN nos S17, S18). LEBESSI 336. NAUMANN 29; LEBESSI 335.

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Archaic art.61 Grooming, however, was now important for the appearance or physical characteristics of individuals. The presence of grooming kits in sacred caves could reflect a desire to assert distinctions in group identity indicating that not all belonged to the same group as in Neopalatial times. Thus, masculine power is now evident through military achievement. rather than physical beauty in the form of youthful, sinewy limbs that once characterized the solidarity of the Neopalatial elite. This would indicate the power and dominance of men at the very end of the Bronze Age, with power expressed through the ability to wield weaponry and beauty expressed through grooming as a new aesthetic of masculine beauty. Ritual nudity, as well as possibly the limited developmental age of males represented by LM IIIC and Subminoan bronze figurines, and the appearance of grooming paraphernalia suggests changes in both cave ritual and the role of the dedicators of bronze anthropomorphic figurines at the end of the Bronze Age. The emphatic display of the phallus, of some, emphasizes their nudity.62 At Syme, the presence of nude arms-bearers indicates a divergent tendency towards social ‘individualization’ evident at the very end of the Bronze Age.63 Evidence is lacking for arms-bearing figurines of either LM IIIC or Subminoan date from caves except for two from Psychro of possible Subminoan date that could have been holding something either in the hands64 or against the chest.65 Although arm-bearers may not be present in cave sanctuaries, presumably the occurrence of nude figurines in caves indicates a similar social development and the emphatic display of nudity probably reflected the nature of the ritual at caves, as at Syme.66 The emphasis on nudity situates masculinity as something immutably codified on the body. Perhaps we are seeing a move toward a more conservative approach to gender in this phenomenon.67 As mentioned above only two caves, Phaneromeni and Psychro, have yielded bronze anthropomorphic figurines that can be attributed to the Postpalatial period.68 For Psychro, whether one excludes figurines only reportedly from the cave, a sharp decline occurs in their numbers after the Neopalatial period until the LM IIIB period.69 The marked decline is paralleled at the Syme sanctuary.70 In the LM IIIB period at Psychro, female figurines dominate with ten females and just five males, however, the overall number of figurines decreases in the Postpalatial period.71 In the subsequent LM IIIC and Subminoan periods, no female figurines have been identified, only male. The small number of bronze figurines (total of five) from Phaneromeni are all male, dating from LM IIIB and LM IIIC/Subminoan.

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N. SPIVEY, Understanding Greek Sculpture (1996) 111. E.g. Psychro, VERLINDEN no. 163; Phaneromeni, VERLINDEN no. 162. LEBESSI 346. VERLINDEN no. 166. VERLINDEN no. 167. Cf. LEBESSI 335-336. J. HALBERSTAM, Female Masculinity (2006) 13. A small figurine that is in a Saint Louis private collection probably comes from the Eileithyia Cave at Tsoutsouros (VERLINDEN no. 183; A. KANTA, “Ειδώλια, Ομοιώματα,” in A. KANTA and C. DAVARAS [eds], ΕΛΟΥΘΙΑ ΧΑΡΙΣΤΗΙΟΝ. Το Ιερό Σπήλαιο της Ειλειθυίας στον Τσούσουρο [2011] 91 no. 85. Only the upper half of this small-breasted female with upraised arms is preserved. It is dated to the LM IIIB period by both VERLINDEN and KANTA. At Phaneromeni Cave, there is an increase in bronze figurines in the LM IIIC-Subminoan period, from one male LM IIIB figurine to four LM IIIC-Subminoan male figurines (VERLINDEN nos 185 for the LM IIIB figurine; VERLINDEN nos 151, 161-162, and 196 for the Subminoan figurines), while none date earlier than LM IIIB, albeit a small sample size, much smaller than that for Psychro. Present information for Phaneromeni and Psychro indicates an apparent shift to all male bronze figurines in the LM IIIC-Subminoan period. LEBESSI 317-318. The four best preserved examples of LM IIIB bronze female figurines from Psychro are depicted with narrow waists and small breasts suggesting youth (VERLINDEN nos 124, 174, 188, 189), while two others (VERLINDEN nos 176 and 177) possess features that are not easily discernible. The small breasts, narrow waists, and slender form of most of the LM IIIB figurines from Psychro suggest that the age range may have been more limited than in the Neopalatial period, making it possible to hypothesize young girls of marriageable age, perhaps younger than the males.

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Evidence from burials in Crete during the period between LM IIIA2 and LM IIIB confirms the importance of family lineage.72 This occurred after LM II-IIIA when burials expressed distinctions between Mycenaean/Minoan affiliation, given that the cultures were probably entangled and may have even included foreigners as Kanta and Kontopodi argue.73 This change seems to coincide with the end of the emphasis on elite, male and female, aesthetics, which manifested and culminated in the Neopalatial period in bronze figurines, seals, frescoes, and other palatial symbols of status and authority. The shift toward portraying male nudity, seen in LM IIIC and Subminoan figurines, corresponds with the revival of militarism associated with the upheavals in the Aegean during the 12th c. It was at this time, in the twelfth or eleventh c. B.C., as noted above, that the Cretan educational system began.74 Male nudity perhaps anticipates physical training and heroism that occurred later in the historic era. Imagery depicted mainly on painted pottery of the 12th and 11th centuries, no longer depicted bull contests or unarmed contests. Instead it now showed mainly agonistic scenes of warfare, maritime warfare,75 and hunting. This is in addition to singing and dancing as well as a rare depiction of chariot races.76 Competitions were now between several competitors, not just two. The bronze figurines of this time, LM IIIC, indicate membership in different social groups,77 suggesting an emphasis on lineage. Perhaps LM IIIC and Subminoan bronze figurines were dedicated upon completion of the youth’s training.78 Whether weapons and other cave offerings were dedications for such occasions, it cannot be determined.79 For cave figurines belonging to the Bronze Age, all that can be confidently concluded, in this regard, is that there is a shift from an emphasis on hairstyles to male nudity. Toilet articles (Pl. XIVb) The warrior’s ‘package’ of personal toilet articles (combs, tweezers, and razors) had a long history in northern, central, and western Europe from the Early Bronze Age.80 Along with the display of body accoutrements, body decorating, drinking, and fighting, these remained a central element in male ideology until well into the Iron Age; and, in some regions, toilet items were exclusively a male funerary item.81 Representations from Bronze Age Europe generally show beardless males or indicate some facial grooming.82 In the Aegean, toilet articles occur, particularly tweezers, by the Early/Middle Bronze Age,

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A.L. D’AGATA, “Hidden Wars: Minoans and Mycenaeans at Haghia Triada in the LM III Period. The Evidence from Pottery,” in R. LAFFINEUR (ed.), POLEMOS. Le contexte guerrier en Égée à l’Âge du Bronze (1999) 54-55. A. KANTA and D.Z. KONTOPODI, “Kastrokephala (Crete): Strangers or Locals in a Fortified Acropolis of the 12th century BC,” in V. KARAGEORGHIS and O. KOUKA (eds), On Cooking Pots, Drinking Cups, Loomweights and Ethnicity in Bronze Age Cyprus and Neighbouring Regions (2011) 129-148. J.D. MUHLY, “The Crisis Years in the Mediterranean World: Transition or Cultural Disintegration?,” in WARD and JOUKOWSKY eds (supra n. 26) 10-26; LEBESSI 348. Maritime warfare is known from other sites in the Aegean as discussed in J.P. EMANUEL, “Maritime Worlds Collide: Agents of Transference and Metastasis of Seaborne Threats at the End of the Bronze Age,” PEQ 148 (2016) 265-280. J. RUTTER, “Sport in the Aegean Bronze Age,” in P. CHRISTESEN and D.G. KYLE (eds), A Companion to Sport and Spectacle in Greek and Roman Antiquity (2014) 47. LEBESSI 246. Cf. during the Archaic period at Syme (N. MARINATOS, “Striding across Boundaries. Hermes and Aphrodite as Gods of Initiation,” in D.B. DODD and C.A. FARAONE [eds], Initiation in Ancient Greek Rituals and Narratives. New Critical Perspectives [2003] 143-144). WATROUS (supra n. 8) 89 suggests that some of the Bronze Age weapons at Psychro were possibly dedicated during male initiations. TREHERNE (supra n. 12) 110; K. KINCADE, The Razor’s Edge. Constructing Male Identity in Bronze and Iron Age Northern Europe (2014), M.A. thesis, University of Wisconsin, 32. TREHERNE (supra n. 12) 111; now critiqued in FRIEMAN et al. (supra n. 7). TREHERNE (supra n. 12) 125.

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becoming prevalent by the Late Bronze Age.83 Recent analysis of EM I-MM IIA tweezers and scrapers from Gournia and other sites in eastern Crete indicate that their quality of manufacture and metallurgical refinement for aesthetic appearance and color indicate that they were not simply implements but that they were also worn as items of status and prestige.84 The presence of razors and tweezers in caves in Crete suggests a similar emphasis on male grooming since these implements are generally assumed to serve depilation purposes.85 Of the nearly 100 pairs of tweezers from Psychro, approximately 93 tweezers cannot be dated any more closely than Bronze or Early Iron Age.86 Simon87 suggests a date during the 8th-7th c. B.C., noting an unusual concentration of tweezers at Early Iron Age sanctuaries on Crete. The difficulty of their chronological placement is evident as Watrous88 places them in the Neopalatial period. Although this is possible, it seems unlikely given the comparanda noted above by Simon. There are nine single-edged razors89 from Psychro that are chopper-shaped, a type that seems to have replaced the leaf-shaped form in LM IIIA.90 Shaving and meat chopping are their purported functions. 91 The curled handles of the Psychro examples conceivably rendered them ineffective for chopping or slicing meat. These nine (Pl. XIVa)92 are comparable to a razor from Karphi.93 The Karphi razor comes from area K 32, an area beneath missing street pavement that has pottery from refuse belonging to the early LM IIIC period;94 suggesting a probable date for those from Psychro. This type is commonly found in LH III and LM III tombs on both the mainland and in Crete where they are found with such items as weapons, suggesting a masculine association.95 Leaf-shaped and chopper-shaped razors are found relatively frequently in Minoan and Mycenaean graves.96 For example, razors come from the LM II-IIIA ‘warrior graves’ at Knossos where they occur together with bronze swords, spearheads, and sometimes a pot.97 They are a consistent component in 83 84

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TREHERNE (supra n. 12) 110. S.C. FERRENCE and A. GIUMLIA-MAIR, “Minoan Status Symbols: Tweezers, “Weaving Hooks,” and Cosmetic Scrapers,” in J. M. DAEHNER, K. LAPATIN, and A. SPINELLI (eds), Artistry in Bronze. The Greeks and Their Legacy (2017) 247, 250-251. K. BRANIGAN, The Foundations of Palatial Crete. A Survey of Crete in the Early Bronze Age (1970) 71. BOARDMAN 31-32. C.G. SIMON, The Archaic Votive Offerings and Cults of Ionia (1986) 344. WATROUS (supra n. 8) 50. Two other razors from Psychro are not considered here (BOARDMAN nos 220 and 223) because they may be earlier in date, belonging to the LM IIIA-B period. A third, a type with a leaf-shaped blade (BOARDMAN no. 221), may also be earlier, probably LM II-IIIA in date, and its function as a razor is problematic as noted by H.W. CATLING, “Late Minoan Vases and Bronzes in Oxford,” BSA 63 (1968) 107. J.S. SOLES, A.M. NICGORSKI and K. KOPAKA, with T. CARTER, A. GIUMLIA-MAIR, D.S. REESE and M.E. SOLES, “Jewelry and Other Small Finds,” in J.S. SOLES and C. DAVARAS (eds), Mochlos IIC. Period IV. The Mycenaean Settlement and Cemetery. The Human Remains and Other Finds (2011) 49. For references see SOLES et al. (supra n. 90) 51. BOARDMAN 50 no. 222, and eight examples in the Herakleion Museum. H.W. PENDLEBURY, J.D.S. PENDLEBURY and M.B. MONEY-COUTTS, “Excavations in the Plain of Lasithi III: Karphi: A City of Refuge of the Early Iron Age in Crete. Excavated by Students of the British School of Archaeology at Athens, 1937-1939,” BSA 38 (1937-1938) 116 no. 510, Pl. XXVIII.2 no. 510; BOARDMAN 51. L.P. DAY, The Pottery from Karphi. A Re-examination (2011) 105. SOLES et al. (supra n. 90) 51. However, without a sexing and use wear analysis of the skeleton, a masculine as well as a warrior identity remains uncertain, see papers in MATIĆ and JENSON (supra n. 2). E.A. CATLING and H.W. CATLING, “Sellopoulo Tombs 3 and 4, Two Late Minoan Graves near Knossos: V. The Bronzes,” BSA 69 (1974) 245. E. BABOULA and P. NORTHOVER, “Metals Technology versus Context in Late Minoan Burials,” in S.M.M. YOUNG, A.M. POLLARD, P. BUDD and R.A. IXER (eds), Metals in Antiquity (1999) 149-150; J. WHITLEY, “Objects with Attitude: Biographical Facts and Fallacies in the Study of

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even the simplest warrior graves, which indicates that they carried specific meaning rather than simply being a personal belonging. They could be seen as playing a key role in signifying masculine identity and beauty through use in grooming. The toilet articles deposited at Psychro during the Postpalatial period could have been particularly significant in a military oriented society and are material evidence for the type of reiterative practices that construct masculinity.98 The body is the most important weapon of the warrior, literally and for his (or possibly her) self-identity. The body needed proper care, good nutrition, practice to develop the right motor skills as indicated by skeletal remains, and preparation to be presented in battle, in readied condition and with the right face.99 Anthropomorphic razors from northern Europe convey this melding of the importance of the masculine body with specific gendering bodily practices.100 In Postpalatial Crete, razors could similarly have been a signifier for masculinity and social status with regrad to grooming practices and rituals. Kontopodi and Kanta have suggested that Italian habits for grooming and fighting were entering Crete based on the discovery of a Naue II sword and Italian razor in a house at the LM IIIC site of Kastrokephala.101 The complete assemblage of a warrior burial has been well illustrated and carefully documented on Mycenaean Kos by Vitale et al.102 Feasting as a context for warrior identity The crisis and subsequent collapse of the regional political system at the end of LM IIIB, in the last decades of the 13th c. B.C., forced many to abandon their homes for safer, less accessible and often fortified, and sometimes inland areas.103 The resulting new settlements, established in LM IIIC, comprised a greater mix of populations, including locals and possibly also some foreigners.104 These changes had a profound impact on the religious sphere, modifying the organization and content, context, and performance of feasting rituals. Faunal remains from the LM IIIC ritual pits at Kephala/Thronos indicates a reliance on goat rather than sheep and cattle for ritual feasts, a reliance that lasted until more settled times in the Protogeometric period.105 Depending upon wild goats may have generated an additional new means of garnishing prestige, seemingly in the context of gift giving, by providing hunted meat. Refuse was subsequently deposited in some fifty pits on the hill of Kephala, perhaps to preserve the memory of the

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Late Bronze Age and Early Iron Age Warrior Graves,” Cambridge Archaeological Journal 12 (2002) 222. J. BUTLER, Gender Trouble. Feminism and the Subversion of Identity (1990) 25, discusses gender identity as something realized through performative reiterations. See various papers in U. MATIĆ and B. JENSON (eds) Archaeologies of Gender and Violence (2017). Noted by TREHERNE (supra n. 12) 105, 129, fig. 1 who illustrated one from a Bronze Age tomb in Gerdrup, Denmark that was published by E. ANER and K. KERSTEN, Die Funde der älteren Bronzezeit des nordischen Kreises in Dänemark, Scheswig-Holstein und Niedesachen (1973) 172, Pl. 100 no. 473. The anthropomorphic razor was found in a male burial along with these bronze items: a sword, a knife, pins, and tweezer fragments. KANTA and KONTOPODI (supra n. 73). Although it is now commonly accepted that the Naue II sword comes into the Aegean from Italy, B. MOLLOY, “Swords and Swordsmanship in the Aegean Bronze Age,” AJA (2010) 114.3, esp. 421-423, has indicated that the style of Naue II sword found on Crete bears affinity with the Mainland. VITALE, BLACKWELL and MCNAMEE (supra n. 2) suggest that it may have been a pirate burial based on the weaponry, the exotic grave goods, and the turbulence of the time. K. NOWICKI (supra n. 4); L.A. HITCHCOCK and A.M. MAEIR (supra n. 5). A.L. D’AGATA, “Ritual and Rubbish in Dark Age Crete: The Settlement of Thronos/Kephala (Ancient Sybrita) and the Pre-Classical Roots of a Greek City,” Aegean Archaeology 4 (1997-2000) 58; KANTA and KONTOPODI (supra n. 73). D’AGATA (supra n. 104) 58; L.A. HITCHCOCK, L.K. HORWITZ, E. BOARETTO and A.M. MAEIR, “One Philistine's Trash is an Archaeologist's Treasure: Feasting at Iron Age I, Tell esSafı/Gath,” NEA 78 (2015) 12-25.

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event and thus the obligation owed by others to the patron.106 The importance of the meal is evidenced, in early LM IIIC, by the new eating/drinking vessels: including the deep bowl and the krater, which replaced the LM IIIB kylikes, cups, and amphoroid kraters throughout the IIIC Mediterranean.107 Changes in feasting strategies began earlier, by the LM II period, when the emphasis shifted from preparation and manipulation of food and drink, aimed at a corporate or group-oriented society dependent upon communal ideologies, to a focus on conspicuous consumption that stressed competition among individual groups.108 The new framework, influenced by the Mycenaeans, focused on stylized drinking sets that often reflected the group affiliation of associated elites. These new drinking sets provided distance between elite and commoner, the former probably no longer drinking from conical cups or kylikes of the palatial era. Now, without restraint from community solidarity and unity, the individual was no longer regarded as anonymous.109 We see these changes reflected in cave rituals.110 No longer are there masses of pottery for food preparation (e.g. basins and cooking pots) or for the manipulation of liquids (e.g. clay chalices, jugs, and stone libation tables)111 known from Neopalatial rituals.112 Instead, rituals are more closely aligned with settlements as at both Thronos-Kephala as discussed above and at Sissi, Petras, and Kavousi-Vronda.113 The new ideology is reflected in a prevalence of animal statuettes, particularly of the large wheel made variety, being dedicated at caves and in open air public rituals as at the open-air, partially paved court at Piazzale dei Sacelli at Ayia Triada.114 In addition to Ayia Triada, these offerings could have been placed next to walls or on the preserved pavements at Amnisos, Phaistos, Psychro Cave, and, the outdoor setting at Syme.115 The paved area at both Ayia Triada and Psychro are delimited by a walled structure but 106 107

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D’AGATA (supra n. 104) 58-59. D’AGATA (supra n. 104 ) 59; for a discussion on how the deep bowl eclipses the kylix in the Mycenaean world, see K.S. SHELTON, “Drinking, Toasting, Consumption, and Libation: Late Helladic IIIA Pottery and a Cup for Every Occasion,” in L.A. HITCHCOCK, R. LAFFINEUR and J. CROWLEY (eds), DAIS. The Aegean Feast (2008) 221-228. E. BORGNA, “Aegean Feasting: A Minoan Perspective,” in T. CULLEN (ed.), The Mycenaean Feast (2004) 266. See Y. HAMILAKIS, “Too Many Chiefs?: Factional Competition in Neopalatial Crete,” in J. DRIESSEN, I. SCHOEP and R. LAFFINEUR (eds), Monuments of Minos. Rethinking the Minoan Palaces (2002) 179-199 who proposes factionalism was always part of palatial society and a similar argument is proposed by I. SCHOEP, “Social and Political Organization on Crete in the Proto-Palatial Period: The Case of Middle Minoan II Malia,” JMA 15 (2002) 101-132; and, I. SCHOEP, “The State of the Minoan Palaces or the Minoan Palace-State?,” in DRIESSEN et al. eds (supra) 15-33 advocating heterarchy as a model for understanding the Neopalatial period. BORGNA (supra n. 108) 266. L. TYREE, “The Significance of Pottery from Minoan Sacred Caves,” in Ε. ΓΑΒΡΙΛAΚΗ (ed.), Πεπραγμένα ΙΑ΄ Διεθνούς Κρητολογικού Συνεδρίου (Ρέθυμνο, 21-27 Οκτωβρίου 2011) Α1.2 (2018) 194-198. DAVIS (supra n. 34). Ε.L. TYREE, A. KANTA, and D. SPHAKIANAKIS, “The Neopalatial Chalice: Forms and Function in the Cave of Skoteino,” in P.P. BETANCOURT, M.C. NELSON and H. WILLIAMS (eds), Krinoi kai Limenes. Studies in Honor of Joseph and Maria Shaw (2007) 277-283; E.L. TYREE, A. KANTA and H.L. ROBINSON, “Evidence for Ritual Eating and Drinking: A View from Skoteino Cave,” in HITCHCOCK et al. eds (supra n. 107) 179-185. J. DRIESSEN, “Understanding Minoan In-House Relationships on Late Bronze Age Crete,” in LETESSON and KNAPPETT eds (supra n. 5) 80-106. HITCHCOCK et al. (supra n. 105). A.L. D’AGATA, “The shrines on the Piazzale dei Sacelli at Ayia Triadha. The LM IIIC and SM material: A summary,” in J. DRIESSEN and A. FARNOUX (eds), La Crète Mycénienne. Actes de la Table Ronde Internationale organisée par l’École française d’Athènes (1997) 98-99. M. GUGGISBERG, “Animal Figures and Sacrificial Rituals at the End of the Bronze Age,” in A.-L. SCHALLIN (ed), Encounters with Mycenaean Figures and Figurines. Papers Presented at a Seminar at the Swedish Institute at Athens, 27-29 April 2001 (2009) 125-138. A.L. D’AGATA, Haghia Triada II. Statuine minoiche e post-minoiche dai vecchi scavi di Haghia Traida (Creta) (1999) 238; See, M. PRENT, “Glories of the Past in the Past: Ritual Activities at Palatial Ruins in Early Iron Age Crete,” in Archaeologies of Memory (2003) 81-103; M. PRENT, “Cult activities at the Palace of Knossos from the end of the Bronze Age: Continuity and Change,” in Knossos. Palace, City, State (2004)

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whether either the wall and/or pavement at Psychro belong to the LM IIIC period or the Geometric is not clear.116 There is good evidence for similar types of events being undertaken at Tiryns where special vessels and heirlooms were displayed on the threshold of a LH IIIC house117 and in Philistia as well. In Philistia, such activities resembled Kephala/Thronos and took the form of regular renewal of hearths and the construction of new ones, as well as the deposition of symbolic tokens of status and memory in the creation of rubbish pits.118 Such open air feasts in the early Iron Age could have served as a milieu for factional competition of newly emerging elites vying for leadership as well as to display one’s warrior status and establish new genealogies linked to the Neopalatial past in order to establish leadership and gain prestige.119 Weapons (see Pl. XIVb) As will become clear from the following discussion, many Italian styles of weaponry along with grooming implements were coming into Crete at this time. Thus, it can be argued that a Cretan warrior class was adopting foreign weaponry for use and display, and possibly the grooming habits and constructions of masculine beauty that went with owning and using such implements.120 The integration of foreign tools of masculine practice may coincide with a greater receptiveness to external cultural concepts of masculinity. Approximately forty of the more than 160 knives found in Psychro have been published by Boardman.121 Most of the published knives, approximately twenty-two in number, from Psychro fall into Sandars’ Class 1, the simplest type, Class 1a and 1b, with and without flanges respectively.122 Class 1a, which occurs in Greece including Crete, began earlier than Class 1b. It was in use from the Middle Minoan period into the Iron Age. Most examples of Class 1a from Crete are known from LM IIIA-B tombs in the Knossos area.123 Class 1b does not appear before the Late Bronze Age, being known in Crete from the beginning of LM III onwards.124 As with Class 1a, they are known primarily from the LM III Knossian tombs. The Psychro knives of both Classes 1a and 1b can be dated to the LM III period, to LM IIIA-C, with LM IIIB-C being probable.125 Five, or perhaps six of the published knives, show Italian affinities that indicate that these Psychro knives belong to the end of the Bronze Age. Like those, they are not earlier than LM IIIC. One is a

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411-419. D’AGATA (supra n. 115) 238 n. 659. P.W. STOCKHAMMER, “Household Archaeology in LHIIIC Tiryns,” in A. YASUR-LANDAU, J. EBELING and L. MAZOW (eds), Household Archaeology in Ancient Israel and Beyond (2011) 207-236 HITCHCOCK et al. (supra n. 105); L.A. HITCHCOCK and A.M. MAEIR, “Lost in Translation: Settlement Organization in Postpalatial Crete, a View from the East,” in LETESSON and KNAPPETT eds (supra n. 5) 289-333. E.g. M. PRENT, “Ritual and Ideology in Early Iron Age Crete: The Role of the Past and the East,” in A.B. KNAPP and P. van DOMMELEN (eds), The Cambridge Prehistory of the Bronze and Iron Age Mediterranean (2014) 650-664); L.A. HITCHCOCK, A.M. MAEIR, and M. HARRIS-SCHOBER, “Tomorrow Never Dies: Post-Palatial Memories of the Aegean Late Bronze Age in the Mediterranean,” in E. BORGNA, I. CALOI, F. CARINCI and R. LAFFINEUR (eds), MNEME. Past and Memory in the Aegean Bronze Age (2019) 543-550. Again, see, for example, the discussion of the male warrior buried on Kos as discussed by VITALE et al. (supra n. 2). BOARDMAN 17-23. N.K. SANDARS, “The Aantiquity of the One-edged Knife in the Aegean,” Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 21 (1955) 175-179; BOARDMAN 17-23, nos 58-68, 74-75 and 9 in the Herakleion Museum. SANDARS (supra n. 122) 189-190; for the tomb references see WHITLEY (supra n. 97) 222; BABOULA (supra n. 55) 71. SANDARS (supra n. 122) 177-179, 192. I. Lagamtzis (pers. comm. Dec. 1997).

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Mühlau-type knife with a ‘stop-ridge’.126 The Mühlau type is mainly found in the Alps but also in the western Balkans.127 Four of these five or six knives with Italian affinities are small.128 Like possibly the others, they can be attributed to the LM IIIC phase, or at least not before then.129 One is decorated with pendent semicircles along the back of the blade.130 It has a close parallel from the Pertosa Cave in Italy.131 A second one,132 which is also decorated with semi-circles, is like the Pertosa type. The remaining two of the four have long handles ending in a loop or hoop.133 They are small ‘toilet knives’ or razors for which Boardman noted parallels from Karphi. They are like those from the Italian Adriatic,134 a type that does not appear in Greece before LM IIIC.135 The sixth is a small knife136 with a curved back, that belongs to the beginning of the transition from the Bronze to the Iron Age, probably not before LM IIIC.137 Harding notes that although the shape resembles some Italian and Alpine knives, this piece is a typical Aegean knife, including the curved back that is seen on many standard Mycenaean knives. In addition to knives there are other weapons from Psychro including daggers, arrowheads, and spearheads. Of these, only seven of the daggers can be readily dated to the end of the Bronze Age. These include two type F2 cruciform daggers.138 This type is known from closed contexts in single burials dating to LM IIIA2139 and LM IIIB.140 Other examples from good contexts come from LM/LH IIIC1 multiple burial contexts on the Greek mainland; Crete;141 and several other islands. Its life span, which is restricted to the end of the Bronze Age, ran from LM IIIA2 until LM/LH IIIC or possibly slightly later.142 Type F2 is characteristic of the Aegean LM/LH IIIC periods.143 It was generally replaced by the more modern Naue II sword by the LM IIIB and C period.144 These two from Psychro can probably be dated to LM IIIB-C following Kilian-Dirlmeier.145 The Naue II sword became popular in Greece in LH IIIB and is well-known to have come into the region from Italy.146 126

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132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142

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HM 441. A. HARDING, The Mycenaeans and Europe (1984) 132-133; R. JUNG, Χρονολογία Comparata. Vergleichende Chronologie von Südgriechenland und Süditalien von ca. 1700/1600 bis 1000 v. u. Z. (2006) 54. HARDING (supra n. 126) 132; JUNG (supra n. 126) 54. Psychro knife (HM 441) can be dated to LM IIIC by two other examples found in Greece: one from the Knossos Stratigraphical Museum Excavations that came from LM IIIC context; and the other from Lefkandi found in LH IIIC (phase 1b) context (HARDING [supra n. 126] 133; JUNG [supra n. 126] 54; 124 n. 875; 199-201, with references). BOARDMAN nos 69, 72-73, and HM with no number. A. HARDING, “Mycenaean Greece and Europe: The Evidence of Bronze Tools and implements,” Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 41 (1975) 198; HARDING (supra n. 126) 133. BOARDMAN no. 69. HARDING (supra n. 126) 132-133, fig. 35.6-7; M. BETTELLI, Italia meridionale e mondo miceneo. Ricerche su dinamiche di acculturazione e aspetti archeologici, con particolare riferimento ai versanti adriatico e ionico della penisola italiana (2002) 132. BOARDMAN 22, fig. 6C, HM with no number. BOARDMAN 19-21 nos 72 and 73. BETTELLI (supra n. 131) 132. HARDING (supra n. 129) 198 no. 3. BOARDMAN no. 70. HARDING (supra n. 129) 197 no. 1. HM 326 and HM 327; BOARDMAN 15-16, fig. 3J-K. Knossos Zapher Papoura tomb 95. Kos Langada tomb 46. Mouliana, tholos tomb A. See also C.D. FORTENBERRY, Elements of Mycenaean Warfare (Greece) (Ph.D. Dissertation, University of Cincinnati, 1990, 155-157); Th. J. PAPADOPOULOS, The Late Bronze Age daggers of the Aegean I. The Greek mainland (1998) 24, 54-56, cruciform type D. B. EDER, Die submykenischen und protogeometrischen Gräber von Elis (2001) 85; or more broadly, LH IIIB-C by MOLLOY (supra n. 101) 408. EDER (supra n. 143) 85; KANTA and KONTOPODI (supra n. 73). I. KILIAN-DIRLMEIER, Die Schwerter in Griechenland (außerhalb der Peloponnes), Bulgarien und Albanien (1993)

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The type F2 cruciform dagger has sometimes been classified as a short sword, because of its length, which is generally in the range of 30-50 cm.147 When using typological considerations, determined by their morphological and technological characteristics,148 they fall into the class of daggers with a T-shaped pommel-mount and flanged haft.149 Five daggers from Psychro belong to the Peschiera family of grip-tongue daggers known from Italy and central and southeastern Europe.150 These include four found by Hogarth151 and a haft fragment in the Ashmolean Museum.152 While there are many different types of Peschiera daggers, those found in Greece belong to the ‘Pertosa’ type.153 Distinctive features include a narrow blade with a flat midrib and a flanged grip terminating in a ‘fishtail’.154 Those found in the Aegean and on the Greek mainland are thought to have an Italian origin although they were not necessarily imported because none has an exact parallel with the Italian daggers, only resemblances.155 Stratified settlement levels and closed hoard contexts have provided close dates for several Pertosa daggers.156 They date to the Late Bronze Age in Italy and to LH IIIB Early/Middle at Nemea-Tsoungisa and LH IIIC Early at Teichos Dymaion, Achaia in Greece.157 The type shows a long duration in Greece, from LH IIIB to LM IIIC Early.158 And, they are contemporaneous in both countries.159 Pertosa-type daggers may have been dual-purpose implements, serving as both daggers and two-edged knives.160 Ivory handles, when preserved (although the handle material of those from Psychro is unknown), would be indicative of the owner’s status.161

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84, nos 198-199, type F2B2. R. JUNG and M. MEHOFER, “A Sword of Naue II Type from Ugarit and the Significance of Italiantype Weaponry in the Eastern Mediterranean,” Aegean Archaeology 8 (2005-2006) 111-135, esp. 135, link the Naue II swords to mercenary activity and discuss its Italian origins. CATLING (supra n. 89) 95-98; FORTENBERRY (supra n. 142) 155-157; MOLLOY (supra n. 101) 408. KILIAN-DIRLMEIER (supra n. 145) 82-85; PAPADOPOULOS (supra n. 142) 3, 18-29. The term dagger is maintained here, following BOARDMAN 16 as well as PAPADOPOULOS (supra n. 142) 3. J. BOUZEK, The Aegean, Anatolia and Europe: Cultural Interrelations in the Second Millennium B.C. (1985) 132135, type 2.2A nos 2-6. HOGARTH (supra n. 36) 110 fig. 43.5; knife form 5. BOARDMAN 14, fig. 2.56, Pl. 9.56. V.B. PERONI, I pugnali nell’Italia continentale (1994) 149-152; R. JUNG, “I ‘bronzi internazionali’ ed il loro contesto sociale fra Adriatico, Penisola balcanica e coste levantine,” in E. BORGNA and P. CASSOLA GUIDA (eds), Dall’Egeo all’Adriatico. Organizzazioni sociali, modi di scambio e interazione in età postpalaziale (XII-XI sec. a.C.). From the Aegean to the Adriatic. Social organisations, modes of exchange and interaction in Postpalatial times (12th-11th B.C.). Atti del Seminario internazionale (Udine, 1-2 dicembre 2006) (2009) 136-138, fig. 4, which is a distribution map with Psychro indicated as no. 33. FORTENBERRY (supra n. 142) 163-164; PERONI (supra n. 153) 149-150; PAPADOPOULOS (supra n. 142) 29. FORTENBERRY (supra n. 142) 164; HARDING (supra n. 126) 173, 215. Metal hoards seem to be a characteristic of sites at the end of the Bronze Age with examples from the western Mediterranean with a large 12th c. BCE “founders hoard” found on Lipari Island, where it was buried beneath a hut, see L. BERNABÒ BREA and M. CAVALIER, Meligunìs Lipára 4. L’acropoli di Lipari nella Preistoria (1980) 744, 746, in ancient Canaan, and in Cyprus, especially at Pyla-Kokkinokremos, see J. BRETSCHNEIDER, A. KANTA and J. DRIESSEN, “Pyla-Kokkinokremos (Cyprus): Preliminary Report on the 2015-2016 Campaigns,” UF 48 (2018) 35-120. PAPADOPOULOS (supra n. 142) 29 nos 136-137; JUNG (supra n. 126) 204, Pls 16.7; 18.1. JUNG (supra n. 126) 204; (supra n. 153) 136-138. JUNG (supra n. 126) 216, fig. 24 for a chart showing chronological correspondences. N.K. SANDARS, The Sea Peoples. Warriors of the Ancient Mediterranean, 1250-1150 B.C. (1978) 89; PAPADOPOULOS (supra n. 142) 48. JUNG (supra n. 153) 136-138. On the status of ivory in general, see A.M. MAEIR, B.E. DAVIS, L.K. HORWITZ, Y. ASSCHER, and L.A. HITCHCOCK, “An Ivory Bowl from Early Iron Age Tell esSafi/Gath (Israel) – Manufacture, Meaning, and Memory,” World Archaeology 47 (2015) 413-438.

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Nineteen of the 23 arrowheads from Psychro could conceivably belong to the Late Bronze Age, if they are not later. Four162 are flat, triangular blades that belong to Buchholz’s types V and VI that range in date from LM II-III.163 They are perfectly flat as well as thin, hence they are known as ‘arrowplate’. They were evidently stamped or cut from sheet bronze, in cookie-cutter fashion. They could have been slipped into a slot at the head of a shaft.164 As arrowplates are not a common Late Minoan tomb-find,165 it is possible that these expendable arrowheads were normally considered too cheap for deposition in tombs and caves. Fifteen other arrowheads166 that may belong to the Late Bronze Age are heavier pieces that could have served as javelins.167 They are Buchholz type VII, variations VIIa-c.168 The earliest occurrence of this type in Crete is LM II, in the New Hospital Tomb III at Knossos.169 Boardman170 suggested a comparison with a spear/arrowhead from Karphi room K 114, which has good LM IIIC context.171 Consequently, it is unlikely that they belong to the Neopalatial period as suggested by Watrous.172 The majority of the 43 spearheads from Psychro, cannot be readily dated to the Bronze Age.173 Six from Psychro are full-sized spear- or lance-heads.174 Socketed spearheads begin in the Aegean in the Late Bronze Age, approximately 1600 B.C.175 Those from Psychro belong to Höckmann types F and H.176 Type F and H spearheads begin as early as LM II on Crete, occurring in LM II-IIIA in the Knossos Warrior Tombs where they are relatively common. 177 They continue throughout the LBA on the mainland. Höckmann proposed a possible LM IIIC date for the six full-sized spearheads from Psychro

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BOARDMAN nos 114-115 and 122-123. H.-G. BUCHHOLZ, “Der Pfeilglätter aus dem VI. Schachtgrab von Mykene und die helladischen Pfeilspitzen,” JdI 77 (1962) 45, E 4a, Types V, VIb. A. SNODGRAS, Early Greek Armour and Weapons from the End of the Bronze Age to 600 B.C. (1964) 147. CATLING and CATLING (supra n. 96) 251. Four other arrowheads come from Psychro. Three of these, with two barbs, seemingly belong to the 7th c or later (BOARDMAN nos 125-126 and HM 479). The only socketed arrowhead from Psychro also dates to 7th century or later (BOARDMAN no. 124). BOARDMAN (30) noted that socketed arrowheads did not occur in the Aegean Bronze Age. Buchholz, who placed this arrowhead in the LM period, noted that this type is only occasionally found in Crete (BUCHHOLZ [supra n. 163] 27, 45). BOARDMAN 29, nos 116-121; and 13 examples in the Herakleion Museum. BUCHHOLZ (supra n. 163) 45-46. M.S.F. HOOD and P. DE JONG, “Late Minoan Warrior-Graves from Ayios Ioannis and the New Hospital Site at Knossos,” BSA 47 (1952) 270-271, fig. 12 no. III.18; BUCHHOLZ (supra n. 163) 26-27. BOARDMAN 29 n. 3. DAY (supra n. 94) 192. WATROUS (supra n. 8) 49 n. 33 where he refers to BOARDMAN nos 116 and 117 unless they are heirlooms. Twelve smaller heads, which do not appear to be cut from sheet metal, are of uncertain date as they could belong to either the LBA or the Geometric period. These include several in the Asmolean Museum (BOARDMAN nos 100-103 and 111) and similar ones in the Herakleion Museum HM nos 469, 471-474, 476, and 479. The remaining spearheads from Psychro most likely all belong to the 8th-7th c. B.C. The greatest number, approximately 23, are small spearheads cut from sheet bronze and rolled into shape. These seem to be votive spearheads that probably belong to the Geometric period, as suggested by Boardman (BOARDMAN 26). BOARDMAN nos 97-99 and three more in the Herakleion Museum. Fortenberry distinguishes spearheads meant for throwing from those designed for thrusting based on length, using those in Höckmann groups C-K (FORTENBERRY [supra n. 142] 195-196). She considers lengths of ca 20 cm and over to be spearheads whereas she categorizes those in the range of ca. 8-20 cm as javelin heads. Using her criterion, five of the full-sized heads from Psychro are spearheads meant for thrusting. One (HM 330), with a length of 11.9 cm, may therefore have been a throwing weapon. HARDING (supra n. 126) 165-166. O. HÖCKMANN, “Lanze und Speer im spätminoischen und mykenischen Griechenland,” JRGZM 27 (1980) 45, fig. 8 F12-13; 58, fig. 12 H10. CATLING and CATLING (supra n. 96) 244; HARDING (supra n. 126).

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even though he noted only rare examples from Crete dating later than the LM IIIA phase.178 The Psychro spearheads have a split socket whereas sockets are generally solid cast without a split after LM IIIA.179 Accordingly, because of their split socket and their similarity to those from the Knossos area, they may belong to LM II-IIIA rather than LM IIIB-C. Discussion and Conclusions We have proposed that in studying gender identity on Crete, attention needs to be given as much to constructions of masculinity as to the study of women and gender fluidity. By neglecting the way masculinities are constructed within the Postpalatial context, we inadvertently reduce expressions of masculinity to the hegemonic, and reaffirm this hegemonic imaginary as the neutral expression of gender identity. 180 Gender is reiterative and performative, as a discursive practice, contributing to the maintenance of a stable and regulated heteronormative system.181 Through the reiteration of gender performance, gender is inscribed upon the self and the body. Observation of the Postpalatial representations discussed here, allow us to see the hegemonic system and infer from it the way masculinity may have been practiced and regulated. Of interest is the way we can observe concepts of masculinity evolving over time. Some of the artifact types from sacred caves have provided significant indicators of masculine identity and status that manifested during the Neopalatial period, the height of Minoan civilization, and that, subsequently, these underwent modification at the end of the Bronze Age when circumstances and needs changed. Disruptions and population movements in the Mediterranean at the end of the LM IIIB period (ca 1320-1200 B.C.), resulted in the establishment of new settlements in LM IIIC (ca 1200-1100 B.C.) that comprised a greater mix of populations and new regimes of resource management that spurred a new organization and social order. These changes are reflected in the religious sphere in the artifacts deposited and in the content of feasting rituals. Changes in the numbers, types, and messaging of the artifacts deposited in Cretan sacred caves from the Neopalatial through the LM IIIC period have shown that male identity and status reflect the social and economic changes in Late Bronze Age in Crete. Although no evidence occurs for the actual presence of pirates in Cretan sacred caves, votive offerings and pottery deposited, in addition to the types and location of caves chosen in the Postpalatial period, vividly reveal insights into the impact caused by their general presence within the Aegean during LM IIIB early (ca 1320-1200 B.C.) and the beginning of the Iron Age. However, it remains difficult to single out what constituted a pirate assemblage in this era, given the shipborne nature of pirate culture. Particular features in the landscape and the situation of pirate habitations combined with ritual drinking, entangled assemblages of artifacts from different cultures found in grave assemblages or in the possession of foreign weapons point to a continuum of what Gallant calls military entrepreneurship.182 The most telling of the artifacts deposited in Cretan sacred caves are bronze anthropomorphic figurines that were a significant elite dedication from the Neopalatial period to the end of the Bronze Age, especially at Psychro Cave in the Lasithi Mountains. From these we can construe changes in the perception of male beauty and identity from the Neopalatial period to the end of the Bronze Age, from ca 1450-1000 B.C. The changes in style of the figures represented indicate that these males were no longer an anonymous member of an elite group, fit and groomed for “non-combative” contests, but were now 178 179 180 181 182

HÖCKMANN (supra n. 176) 139-141, type F; 144-146, type H. MOLLOY pers. comm. May 6, 2011. R. CONNELL, Masculinities (2008) 37. BUTLER (supra n. 98) 22-25. See HITCHCOCK and MAEIR (supra n. 4) 1-12; L.A. HITCHCOCK and A.M. MAEIR, “Fifteen Men on a Dead Seren’s Chest: Yo Ho Ho and a Krater of Wine,” in A. BATMAZ, G. BEDIANASHVILI, A. MICHALEWICZ, and A. ROBINSON (eds), Context and Connection. Essays on the Archaeology of the Ancient Near East in Honour of Antonio Sagona (2018) 147-159; T.W. GALLANT, “Brigandage, piracy, capitalism, and state-formation: Transnational crime from a historical world-systems perspective,” in J.M. HEYMAN (ed.), States and Illegal Practices (1999) 25-61.

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individualized in the Postpalatial period to the meet the new needs of the time, with a body prepared for combat (as indicated by an exposed penis) and a grooming kit perhaps to assert both individual and group distinctions. The grooming kits are of particular importance, since they speak to technologies of the self and type of reiterative practices that produce masculinity.183 This seemingly represents a shift from aesthetic beauty, which characterized elites as a group, to possibly a procreative focus that may have referenced a hereditary system that was now of greater importance than group membership; perhaps foreshadowing the social organization of Cretan settlements and city states of the first millennium.184 Although the numerous weapons found in Psychro Cave can be dated only broadly, it is evident that they provide a significant class of votive offerings that reference masculine identity and power. Most important are the knives, daggers, and spearheads that can be dated, provisionally, to the Postpalatial period. Most of the published knives, with twenty-two examples from Psychro, which are the simplest type, probably belong to the LM IIIB-C period. Five, or perhaps six, of the published knives from Psychro show Italian affinities that indicate that these knives do not date before the LM IIIC period. Most of these are small ‘toilet knives’ or razors with parallels from Karphi. The sixth is also small but its curved back, which also suggests a date not prior to LM IIIC, is a standard Mycenaean type although the shape also resembles some Italian and Alpine knives. Only seven of the daggers from Psychro can be readily dated with certainty to the end of the Bronze Age. The two type F2 cruciform daggers are a type with a life span restricted to the end of the Bronze Age, LM IIIA2 until LM/LH IIIC or possibly slightly later. The type F2 dagger is characteristic of the Aegean LM/LH IIIB and C periods. The five Pertosa-type daggers from Psychro have resemblances with those from Italy. In Greece, the type occurs from LH IIIB to LM IIIC Early. Pertosa-type daggers may have been dual-purpose implements, serving as both daggers and two-edged knives. Only six spearheads can be provisionally dated to the LM III period. They are full-sized spear- or lance-heads. Because of their split socket and their similarity to those from the Knossos area, they may belong to LM II-IIIA rather than LM IIIB-C. From the proposed provisional chronology, it is suggested here that the great majority of the published weapons from Psychro Cave belong to the LM III period (or later), including the knives and daggers. In the sacred caves of Crete, they are thus not a Neopalatial but a later Bronze Age phenomenon.185 They fit in with the wider phenomenon in the Aegean and Adriatic, with warfare leading to an end of globalization,186 while prompting a new emphasis on male warrior identity and rural villages as seen earlier in Europe. Given the long history of the warrior ‘package’ of personal toilet articles, use of perfumed oil when available, and weapons in northern, central, and western Europe from the Early Bronze Age, it is not surprising to find it reproduced for Cretan purposes, where an emphasis on masculine beauty and identity already had a firm hold in the Neopalatial period in bronze figures and other representations. Weapons and toilet articles are seen in Crete in the LM II-IIIA warrior graves, especially in graves with deposits of multiple similar weapons, which finds reflection in a deposit of multiple (three) very similar LM II-IIIA

183

184 185

186

J. BUTLER, “For a Careful Reading,” in S. BENHABIB (ed.), Feminist Contentions. A Philosophical Exchange (1995) 134. M. FOUCAULT et al., Technologies of the Self. A Seminar with Michel Foucault (1988) 18, such technologies of the self are imposed and constrained through relations of power J. GOLDSTEIN, “Foucault’s Technologies of the Self and the Cultural History of Identity,” in J. NEUBAUER (ed.), Cultural History after Foucault (1999) 43-44. Cf. LEBESSI 349. WATROUS (supra n. 8) 50-51, 89 believes that many of the weapons from Psychro belong to the Neopalatial period. However, this does not seem likely given the suggested dating here. On globalization in the Late Bronze Age, with further references, see L.A. HITCHCOCK, “Globalization, Capitalism, and Collapse in Prehistory and the Present,” in S. OLIVER, M. MORRISON and B. CAIN (eds), Libertarianism and the Libertarian Party at 50 and Beyond, Gedenkschrift for Professor John Hospers (2020).

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swords at Syme sanctuary.187 Such replications of weapons are indicative of competition among elites and the prestige brought by such deposits.188 The new eating/drinking sets, including deep bowls and the krater, that are found in caves, formed a part of a masculine ideology from LM IIIC until well into the Early Iron Age. The shift to male nudity in bronze figurines from the very end of the Bronze Age and Early Iron age situates masculinity as something immutably codified on the body. Perhaps we are seeing a move toward a more conservative approach to gender in this phenomenon. One where secondary cultural signifiers of masculinity are deliberately made obsolete and masculinity is reduced to one side of an anatomical binary.189 The material evidence and representations show the way masculinities are constructed both internally and through external forces. We witness a clear departure from the masculine as champion over nature, projected through cultural signifiers such as clothing and hair, to one of a participant in antagonistic pursuits against other men. Likely a deliberate rejection of Minoan cultural constructs, this transformation also suggests the influence and adoption of external cultural ideas. It demonstrates the way gender as a performative practice reacts and responds to the environment that it is practiced in. As the world becomes more uncertain and troubled, hegemonic masculinity adapts, becoming more conservative and warrior focused. At the same time, these elite masculine personalities are keen to project an image that they are active agents in choosing a particular lifestyle. We are reminded of the sixth century Song of Hybrias the Cretan, where the narrator associates the warrior with authority over those who choose not to be.190 This newfound declaration of masculine individuality and family lineage, at the expense of organizational ties, is one of the most striking changes in the way masculinity is practiced during this period. Loeta TYREE Louise A. HITCHCOCK Christopher BARNETT

187

188 189

190

G. PAPASAVVAS, P. MUHLY and A. LEBESSI, “Weapons for Men and Gods: Three Knossian Swords from the Syme Sanctuary,” in BETANCOURT et al. eds (supra n. 37) 648. PAPASAVVAS, MUHLY and LEBESSI (supra n. 187) 648. We can understand the gendered body as produced through discourse (J. BUTLER, Bodies That Matter. On the Discursive Limits of “Sex” [1993] 11). See also n. 67 above. Athenaeus 15.695f-696a.

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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Pl. XIVa Pl. XIVb

One of nine single-edged, chopper-shaped razors from Psychro Cave that conceivably belong to the LM IIIC period. After BOARDMAN 50-51, fig. 24 no. 222. L 12 cm. Drawn by Roxana Docsan. Cave artifacts by site. Type, number of examples, broad date, and possible (but provisional) date for reasons noted in the text. Only those artifacts discussed in the text are listed here. References are in the text.

XIV

a

Site Psychro

Phaneromeni

b

Object Type Bronze human figurines Bronze human figurines Bronze human figurines Bronze human figurines Razors Tweezers Tweezers Tweezers Knives Knives Knives Knives (iron) Knives Knife handles Knife handle, bone Daggers, cruciform Daggers, Pertosa type Daggers, fragments Arrowheads Arrowheads Arrowheads Spearheads Spearheads Spearheads, votive Spearheads, iron Bronze human figurines Bronze human figurines Bronze human figurines

Number 16 1 4 6 9 2 2 >90 22 6 1 1 1 3 1 2 5 2 4 15 4 6 12 23 2 1 1 3

Date LM IIIB LM IIIB-C / Subminoan LM IIIC / Subminoan Subminoan Postpalatial EM? LM LM-8th-7th c. Postpalatial Postpalatial ? ? EIA ? ? Postpalatial Postpalatial ? Postpalatial or later Postpalatial or later 7th c. or later Postpalatial Postpalatial or later 8th-7th c. Postpalatial or later LM IIIB LM IIIC / Subminoan Subminoan

Possible date

LM IIIC

LM IIIB-C Not before LM IIIC

Early Geometric

LM IIIB-C LM IIIB-C LM II-III or 8th-7th c. LM II-III or 8th-7th c. LM III LM III or 8th-7th c. 8th-7th c.?

COLOURS OF SKIN: WHITE TAUREADORS AND YELLOW BOYS8 Colour has the power to communicate through the use of contrast. In Aegean and Egyptian painting, men and women are distinguished from each other by the contrasting colours of their skin: men are dark; women are light. Yet there are notable exceptions and ambiguities. A debate has arisen around this convention in Aegean art: is the distinction solely a signifier of gender duality, or are there other, more nuanced meanings? A broader perspective may throw light on the issue. This paper is part of a larger, cross-cultural enquiry into colour and contrast that I am undertaking to address the question of how universal such distinctions may be and on what premise – gender, age, ethnicity, status – they are based. Here, I focus on the Aegean and Egypt, as a small tribute to the prodigious scholarship of my friend and colleague John Younger. Culture, Colour and Complexion Skin colours in art signal ideological concepts. In most cultures, representations of male and female are colour sensitive, as are ethnic and cultural distinctions (us/them) and, in many cases, ethical contrasts (good/evil) and stages of existence (young/old, living/dead). The most frequently used colour contrasts for depictions of skin are red and white. (Yellow can take the place of either, as the darker or the lighter in the contrast.) Red is universally attributed with life-giving powers and potency, and in both Aegean and Egyptian cultures had special significance.1 White in many cultures is associated with spirit entities, and can be a marker of liminality between one level of existence and another. In Ancient Egyptian (as in many other languages), colours have symbolic resonance derived from nature, so the colour red is associated with life and danger (blood and fire), white with luminosity and purity (light).2 As a solar colour, red has the significant connotation of creative energy and male vitality.3 *

1

2

I am most grateful to Brent Davis and Robert Laffineur for inviting me to contribute to this volume and for their patience in the face of delays. My thanks to Fritz Blakolmer, Nanno Marinatos, Lise Manniche, Adela Oppenheim, and Doan Morgan Vassaf for discussions and clarifications, and to Clairy Palyvou and Marian Negrete-Martinez for illustrations. F. BLAKOLMER, “Die Farbe Rot in Symbolik, Bildkunst und Sprache der bronzezeitlichen Ägäis”, in H. NEKKER, C.H. WUNDERLICH and F. KNOLL (eds), “Die Archäeologie bekennt Farbe 5,” Mitteldeutscher Archäologentag (2013) 275-286; G. PINCH, “Red Things: The Symbolism of Color in Magic,” in W.V. DAVIES (ed.), Colour and Painting in Ancient Egypt (2001) 182-185. On colour in ancient Egyptian language and art see in particular (with references to earlier works): W. SCHENKEL, “Color Terms in Ancient Egyptian and Coptic,” in R.L. MACLAURY, G.V. PARAMEI and D. DEDRICK (eds), Anthropology of Color (2007) 211-228; J. BAINES, “Colour Terminology and Colour Classification: Ancient Egyptian Colours in Context,” in J. BAINES, Visual and Written Culture in Ancient Egypt (2007) 240-262 (1st publ. American Anthropologist 87 [1985] 282-297); S. QUIRKE, “Colour vocabularies in Ancient Egyptian,” in DAVIES ed. (supra n. 1) 186-192; D. WARBURTON, “The Terminology of Ancient Egyptian Colours in Context,” in L. CLELAND and K. STEARS (eds), Colour in the Ancient Mediterranean World (2004) 126-130; ID., “ Basic color term evolution in light of ancient evidence from the Near East,” in MACLAURY et al. eds (supra) 229-246; ID., “The Theoretical Implications of Ancient Egyptian Colour Vocabulary for Anthropological and Cognitive Theory,” Lingua Aegyptia 16 (2008) 213-259; ID., “Colours in Bronze-Age Egyptian Art and Language,” in V.NN. BRINKMAN, O. PRIMAVESI and M. HOLLEIN (eds), Circumlitio. The Polychromy of Antique and Medieval Sculpture (2010) 170-187. Also, on colour in art: R.H. WILKINSON, Symbol and Magic in Egyptian Art (1994) 104-125; G. ROBINS, “Color Symbolism,” in D.B. REDFORD (ed.), The Oxford Encyclopedia of Ancient Egypt (2001) 291-294; C. CHEALE, “The Meaning of Skin Color in Eighteenth Dynasty Egypt,” in C. FLUEHR-LOBBAN and K. RHODES (eds), Race and Identity in the Nile Valley (2004) 47-69; L. MORGAN, “Enlivening the Body: Color and Stone Statues in Old Kingdom Egypt,” in S. EBBINGHAUS (ed.), Superficial? Approaches to Painted Sculpture, special issue of Source. Notes in the

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In Mycenaean Linear B, the most frequently used words pertaining to colour signify red/crimson/purple versus white.4 As in depictions of skin colour in Aegean wall paintings, the crucial distinction is binary: dark and colorful versus light and bright. Sex and Gender Men are said to be naturally ruddier than women (within the same indigenous population),5 but as a physiological marker of gender, such a distinction is relatively inconspicuous. The usual explanation for the colour convention in art claims to identify a naturalistic marker, not of biology but of relative exposure to the sun: men work outdoors, women indoors. This ‘naturalistic’ explanation of interior/exterior exposure has traditionally been applied to both ancient Egyptian and Archaic Greek art. Yet one has only to look at Egyptian art to realize the shortcomings of this premise. In agricultural scenes, men and women work together outdoors, equally exposed to the sun yet clearly distinguished as dark red versus pale yellow, just as noble men and women are in other painted scenes and statues. Recent studies of Egyptian and Greek art have instead seen the visual polarity as a cultural construct signaling the ideology of gender roles. Red flesh is a marker of ideal masculinity, while women’s paleness reflects an ideological rather than actual seclusion.6 Mary Ann Eaverly discusses significant exceptions to the colour convention in Archaic art, such as an Early Attic amphora portraying the blinding of Polyphemos, in which the body of Odysseus has been singled out from the other men by the application of white.7 The chromatic duality of gender has important exceptions in Egyptian and Aegean art too, as this paper demonstrates. But while the principle of duality is common to Egyptian, Aegean, Archaic Greek,

3 4

5

6

7

History of Art Vol XXX, no. 3 (2011) 4-11; M. STRONG, “Do you see what I see? Aspects of Color and Choice and Perception in Ancient Egyptian Painting,” Open Archaeology (2014) 173-184. CHEALE (supra n. 2) 62. B. MOONWOMON, “Color Categorization in Early Greek,” Journal of Indo-European Studies 22 (1994) 37-65 (44-48); F. BLAKOLMER, “Zum Charakter der frühägäischen Farben: Linear B und Homer,” in F. BLAKOLMER (ed.), Österreichische Forschungen zur Ägäischen Bronzezeit 1998 (2000) 225-239; ID., “Colour in the Aegean Bronze Age: From Monochromy to Polychromy,” in CLELAND and STEARS eds (supra n. 2) 61-67 (63-64, Table 1); M-L. NOSCH, “Red Coloured Textiles in the Linear B Inscriptions,” in CLELAND and STEARS eds (supra n. 2) 32-37. Red/crimson/purple: e-ru-ta-ra (eruthros); mi-to-we-sa-e (miltowessa); po-ni-ki-jo (phoinikeos); po-pu-re-ja/o (porphureos) or po-pu-ro. White: re-u-ko (leukos). Individual tablets: M. VENTRIS and J. CHADWICK, Documents in Mycenaean Greek (1973). On colour in the Aegean Bronze Age see also M. PETERS, The Power of Polychromy. Exploring the Use and Social Significance of Colour in Minoan Crete (MA diss., Sheffield 2002); M. PETERS, “Colour Use and Symbolism in Bronze Age Crete: Exploring Social and Technological Relationships,” in C.M. JACKSON and E.C. WAGER (eds), Vitreous Materials in the Late Bronze Age Aegean (2008) 187-208; C. GILLIS, “The Use of Colour in the Aegean Bronze Age,” in CLELAND and STEARS eds (supra n. 2) 56-60; F. BLAKOLMER, “La couleur dans l'iconographie minoenne et mycénienne : formes artistiques et réalité visuelle,” SMEA NS 1 (2015) 19-41. P. FROST, “Hue and Luminosity of Human Skin: a Visual Cue for Gender Recognition and other Mental Tasks”, Human Ethology Bulletin, Vol. 26:2 (2011) 25-35; N. JABLONSKI, Living Color: The Biological and Social Meaning of Skin Color (2012) 64. M.A. EAVERLY, Tan Men / Pale Women. Color and Gender in Archaic Greece and Egypt, A Comparative Approach (2013) 123, 125. Cf. M.A. EAVERLY, “Color and Gender in Ancient Painting: A Pan-Mediterranean Approach,” in N.L. WICKER and B. ARNOLD (eds), From the Ground Up. Beyond Gender Theory in Archaeology (1999) 5-10; CHEALE (supra n. 2) esp. 59-60. The chromatic distinction is echoed in Greek poetry, in which women are described as light (λευκóς) and men as dark (μέλας): E. IRWIN, Colour Terms in Greek Poetry (1974) 111-112, 116; cf. B. THOMAS, “Constraints and Contradictions: Whiteness and Femininity in Ancient Greece,” in L. LLEWELLYN-JONES, Women’s Dress in the Ancient Greek World (2002) 1-16. On Greek texts providing ontological explanations for the perceived difference see: L. DEAN-JONES, Women’s Bodies in Classical Greek Science (1994) 42-43, 46, 49, 55-58, 91. EAVERLY 2013 (supra n. 6) 95-97, fig. 15 (the other figures have reserved white faces but black bodies). Colour: D. PLANTZOS, The Art of Painting in Ancient Greece (2018) 84, figs 75-76.

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and also Etruscan art, it does not appear to be applicable to Mesopotamian art, in which colour usage is more flexible. A study of polychromy on stone statues, male and female, concludes that red-brown predominates and is the most symbolic colour,8 an observation that is confirmed by physiognomic omen texts demonstrating that the colour red, like sparkling eyes, connoted life and the dynamic force of both human and divine bodies.9 Yet in the wall paintings from Mari, skin colour is variable, with a few men portrayed in white alongside the more usual red.10 Ideology is the key to conventions of skin colour in images. In Mesopotamia, unlike in Egypt, dualistic ontologies were not at the forefront of philosophical thought,11 which may conceivably help to explain the absence of gender distinction through colour in Mesopotamian art. Youth and Age There are subtle changes to the colour of one’s skin through life, regardless of exposure to the sun. All newborns have relatively pale skin, the pigmentation of adulthood developing over time, through puberty to maturity. 12 Although not as common as the gender distinction, a light/dark polarity is frequently used to mark youth and age in art, with children being pale, a symbolic reference that draws on both physiological development and cultural attitudes to gender and maturity. In ancient Greece, this distinction is also literary. The term for fairness, λευκóς, was applied not only to women but also to youths and emasculated men, those who were not dark, virile males.13 Both the Greek colour term xanthos and the Latin flauusi, translated as ‘yellow’ or (for the latter) ‘blond’, was an epithet used for females and adolescent males.14 In a Hellenistic poem, the wounded young Adonis is described as having snowy white flesh.15 Adonis is said to have been 18 or 19 when he died while hunting, a rite of passage to manhood, which he never achieved. Similarly, just before his transformation, the body of the young Hermaphroditus is described by Ovid as gleaming in the water “like ivory statues or pure white lilies encased in transparent crystal”.16 He is a young, pale-skinned boy, never to reach the ruddy maturity of masculinity. Symbolic references to both gender and youth and age can be observed in Asian, Western, and Mesoamerican art as well as ancient Mediterranean. Such observations, contextually grounded, may provide a framework for the investigation into the use of red, white and yellow skin in Aegean and Egyptian painting. Before moving to the specific issues under investigation, it is worth considering what appear to us to be ambiguities and anomalies. 8

9

10

11

12 13

14 15

16

A. NUNN, “Colorful Garments of Mesopotamian Stone Statues,” in R.B. GOLDMAN (ed.), Essays in Global Color History (2016) 38; A. NUNN, B. JÄNDL and R. GEBHARD, “Polychromy on Mesopotamian stone statues. Preliminary report,” Studia Mesopotamica (2015) 187-206. NUNN et al. (supra n. 8) 202; A. BERLEJUNG, “Menschenbilder und Körperkonzepte in altorientalischen Gesellschaften im 2. und 1. Jt. v. Chr,” in A. BERLEJUNG, J. DIETRICH and J.F. QUACK (eds.), Menschenbilder und Körperkonzepte im Alten Israel, in Ägypten und im Alten Orient (2012) 367-397 (378-379). A. PARROT, Mission Archéologique de Mari II, Le palais. Peintures murales (1958). The majority of figures are male and red-skinned. White-skinned figures from Court 106: cat. nos 43 (foot, fig. 25), 36-40 (bearded heads, fig. 31); small white-skinned bearded fisherman: Pl. XIX, col. Pl. E; male deity: fig. 59. Later, in the Neo-Assyrian paintings of Til Barsip, men have white rather than red skins (E. STROMMENGER and M. HIRMER, 5000 Years of the Art of Mesopotamia [nd] Pls XXXVI-XXXIX). J.M. ASHER-GREVE, “The Essential Body: Mesopotamian Conceptions of the Gendered Body,” in M. WYKE (ed.), Gender and the Body in the Ancient Mediterranean (1998) 8-37. JABLONSKI (supra n. 5) 64-69; FROST (supra n. 5) 27. IRWIN (supra n. 6) 114-115, 194. In the Odyssey, when Athene restores Odysseus from his guise as an old beggar to his manly self, “he became dark-skinned again…”, implying an equation between old age and paleness: HOMER, Odyssey 16.174-176; cited by IRWIN (supra n. 6) 113-114, cf. 196. Cf. Odyssey 18.195196, the whitening of Penelope. M. BRADLEY, Colour and Meaning in Ancient Rome (2009) 1-3. A. FONTOULAKIS, “The Colors of Desire and Death: Color Terms in Bion’s Epitaph on Adonis”, in CLELAND and STEARS eds (supra n. 2) 110-116 (110-112). OVID, Metamorphsis. A New Verse Translation, trans. D. RAEBURN (2004) 148, Book IV, lines 353-354.

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Colour Anomalies in Egyptian and Aegean Art In both Aegean and Egyptian art, men and women are unambiguously distinguished physiologically (body shape) and in the cultural construction of gender. Considerable attention has been paid to this in terms of hairstyles, clothing and jewellery in Aegean painting,17 especially in relation to youth and gender.18 The binary distinction of dark versus light skin for men and women – dark red/pale yellow in Egypt, dark red/white in the Aegean – is a symbolic rendering of social differentiation.19 As such, it is nuanced and occasionally subject to shifts in application. These are the crucial exceptions that, once interpreted, provide insights into wider social values. What we see as exceptions are actually key to the interpretation of an idiomatic convention. Egypt Egyptian art has a number of significant shifts in colour conventions. The depiction of certain male figures with yellow skin instead of the usual red is discussed below, as it provides a striking comparison for the application of pale skin to certain male figures in Aegean art. Here, I mention two well-known examples of a shift in the colour of female skin from yellow to red during the 18th dynasty. In ruling on behalf of her underage nephew (and step-son), Hatshepsut was a queen who became a king, both ideologically and iconographically.20 Colour (so often lost on statuary) is preserved on her Osiride statues from Deir el Bahri: yellow skin on the earliest, yellow and red pigments combined on some, dark red on what are probably the latest.21 These were changes specifically designed to legitimize pharonic rule and, as Eaverly notes, the fact that skin colour was manipulated for this purpose emphasizes the symbolic significance of colour as an indicator of gender.22

17

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19

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J.G. YOUNGER, “Representations of Minoan-Mycenaean Jewelry,” in R. LAFFINEUR and J.L. CROWLEY (eds), EIKON. Aegean Bronze Age Iconography. Shaping a Methodology (1992) 257-293; R. LAFFINEUR, “Dress, Hairstyle and Jewellery,” in S. SHERRATT (ed.), The Wall Paintings of Thera, Vol. II (2000) 890-906; M.M. LEE, “Deciphering Gender in Minoan Dress,” in A.E. RAUTMAN (ed.), Reading the Body. Representations and Remains in the Archaeological Record (2000) 111-123; G. MUSKETT, “Gender boundaries in Late Bronze Age Greece: The contribution of Dress,” in C. GALLOU, M. GEORGIADIS and G.M. MUSKETT (eds), Dioskouroi. Studies presented to W.G. Cavanagh and C.B. Mee (2008) 90-96. See especially: E.N. DAVIS, “Youth and Age in the Thera Frescoes,” AJA 90 (1986) 399-406; EAD., “The Organisation of the Theran Artists”, in SHERRATT ed. (supra n. 17) 859-872 (868-871); C. DOUMAS, “Age and Gender in the Theran Wall Paintings,” in SHERRATT ed. (supra n. 17) 971-981; J. RUTTER, “Children in Aegean Prehistory,” in J. NEILS and J.H. OAKLEY (eds), Coming of Age in Ancient Greece. Images of Childhood from the Classical Past (2003) 30-57; A. CHAPIN, “Boys Will Be Boys: Youth and Gender Identity in the Theran Frescoes,” in A. COHEN and J.B. RUTTER (eds), Constructions of Childhood in Ancient Greece and Italy (2007) 229-255; EAD., “Constructions of male youth and gender in Aegean art: the evidence from Late Bronze Age Crete and Thera,” in K. KOPAKA (ed.), Fylo. Engendering Prehistoric ‘Stratigraphies’ in the Aegean and Mediterranean (2009) 175-182. EAVERLY 1999, 2013 (supra n. 6); CHEALE (supra n. 2); A. CHAPIN, “Do Clothes Make the Man (or Woman?)” Sex, Gender, Costume, and the Aegean Color Convention,” in M-L. NOSCH and R. LAFFINEUR (eds), Kosmos. Jewellery, Adornment and Textiles in the Aegean Bronze Age (2012) 297-304; L. MORGAN, Ayia Irini. The Wall Paintings of the Northeast Bastion: Social Context and the Miniature Frieze (in press), “The Gendered Body: Colors of Skin” in Ch. 2. P.F. DORMAN, “Hatshepsut. Princess to Queen to Co-Ruler,” in C.H. ROEHRIG (ed.), Hatshepsut. From Queen to Pharaoh (2006) 86-91; C.A. KELLER, “The Joint Reign of Hatshepsut and Thutmose III,” in ROEHRIG ed. (supra) 96-100; C.A. KELLER, “The Statuary of Hatshepsut”, in ROEHRIG ed. (supra) 158-173. EAVERLY 2013 (supra n. 6) 57-70; K. COONEY, The Woman Who Would be King. Hatshepsut’s Rise to Power in Ancient Egypt (2014) 153-158. EAVERLY 2013 (supra n. 6), 61-64; COONEY (supra n. 20) 155. EAVERLY 2013 (supra n. 6) 65, 70.

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The other notable case of a colour shift in Egyptian art is that of women in the Amarna period, portrayed with the red skin usually of men, albeit sometimes slightly lighter.23 This is an ideological shift of a different nature. In Egyptian religion, the maintenance of Maat, divine upholder of cosmic harmony, is achieved by the union of opposites through complementarity. Yet Akhenaten’s innovative religious ideology encompassed both male and female within the one god, Aten, and therefore within himself as living incarnation of the divine and in Nefertiti his queen. This ideological merging of the genders, in which unity is expressed over duality, is reflected in the singularity of skin colour in art. What is important to note is that, despite the change in colour convention, there is no visual ambiguity of sex in depictions of women (though Akhenaten’s body is somewhat feminized), as all other gender determinants – body shape, clothing, hair, activity – are in play. Significantly, in the palace painting of the royal family group now in the Ashmolean Museum, youth and age are distinguished, the young princesses being a distinctly paler pink than their mother, who is a slightly paler red than their father.24 The Aegean In Aegean painting, there are a number of anomalies in what we understand as the colour duality of gender, largely from Knossos, of which the ‘Taureador Frescoes’ (Pl. XVa-b) are the most controversial, and in Mycenaean painting.25 On the one hand, there are instances in which two gender determinants – colour and apparel – appear to be at variance. On the other hand, there are athletic figures, in which multiple determinants – colour, clothing, musculature, action – are at play. The ‘Camp Stool Fresco’ from Knossos was thought to have two conflicting gender determinants: red skin with ‘female’ clothing.26 There are no clear examples in Aegean art of females depicted with red skin.27 Evans saw the clothing as a case of cross-dressing,28 but a sacerdotal garment can be applicable to

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M.A. EAVERLY, “Colours of Power: Brown Men and Brown Women in the Art of Akhenaten,” in CLELAND and STEARS eds (supra n. 2) 53-55; EAVERLY 2013 (supra n. 6) 70-82. Cf. K. MYSLIWIEC, “The Red and the Yellow: An Aspect of the Egyptian ‘Aspective’,” in E. CZERNY, I. HEIN, H. HUNGER, D. MELMAN and A. SCHWAB (eds), Timelines. Studies in Honour of Manfred Bietak (2006) 225-238 (234-235). Mysliwiec points out that the shift in convention begins in the prelude to the Amarna period, in the tomb chapel of Menna, and continues afterwards in certain instances, as at Deir el Medina. It is not, however a consistent shift, some female figures in the tomb chapel of Menna being pink or yellow, others red, and it is interesting to note that, for the main figures, the colours were applied in layers for different effects: M. HARTWIG (ed.), The Tomb Chapel of Menna (TT 69). The Art, Culture, and Science of Painting in an Egyptian Tomb (2013) 142, 144. The lighter tone for the princesses was achieved by painting a layer of yellow over the light red: L. MANNICHE, “Body Colour in Amarna Art,” in V. ANGENOT and F. TIRADRITTI (eds.), Artists and Painting in Ancient Egypt (2016) 60-71 (63-64). See especially: F. BLAKOLMER, “Überlegungen zur Inkarnatsfarbe in der frühägäishen Malerei,” Jahreshefte des Österreichischen Archäologischen Instituts 62 (1993) 5-18; CHAPIN (supra n. 19). A. EVANS, The Palace of Minos at Knossos, Vol. IV (1935) 379-390; N. PLATON, “Συρβολὴ εὶς τὴν σπουδὴν τῆς μινωϊχῆς τοιχογραφίας,” KretChron 13 (1959) 319-345; M.A.S. CAMERON, “The Campstool Fresco,” KretChron 18 (1964) 38-53; S. IMMERWAHR, Aegean Painting in the Bronze Age (1990) 95, 176, Kn no. 26; S. HOOD, “Dating the Knossos Frescoes,” in L. MORGAN (ed.), Aegean Wall Painting. A Tribute to Mark Cameron (2005) 45-81 (no. 4, 61-62), with earlier references. Säflund interpreted both children in the Theran ‘Boxing Boys’ as girls: G. SÄFLUND, “Girls and Gazelles. Reflections on Theran Fresco Imagery,” in ΦΙΛΙΑ ΕΠΗ ΕΙΣ Γ.Ε. ΜΥΛΩΝΑΝ (1986) 185-190. Others have seen the left child as a girl on the basis of the slightly lighter skin (S. MARINATOS, Excavations at Thera IV [1971] 49), but as Fritz Blakolmer points out, differentiation of tone is a device (well-known in Egypt) for distinguishing overlapping or closely spaced figures (BLAKOLMER [supra n. 25] 14-15). EVANS (supra n. 26) 385-386; cf. MUSKETT (supra n. 17).

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either gender, while Bernice Jones’s reconstruction of the garment as male removes the apparent ambiguity.29 In Mycenaean painting, there are several instances of white-skinned figures associated with the usual male accoutrements and activities of weapons, armour, and hunting, though with one possible exception they are not depicted fighting or hunting. The garment of the white-skinned charioteers from Tiryns is gender neutral but the hair is that worn by women.30 The sword-carrying figure from the Cult Centre at Mycenae has white skin and priestly, probably female, clothing.31 The painted plaque from Mycenae showing a figure-of-eight shield with traces of white-skinned arms and neck was identified by Paul Rehak as a warrior goddess, related to the Mycenae Cult Centre figure.32 A fragment from Pylos depicts the arm and sleeve(s) of a white-skinned archer.33 These all appear to show females, but the Mycenae and Pylos examples most likely represent deities, while the Tiryns charioteers (whether mortal or divine) are spectators of the hunt rather than participants.34 More ambiguous as to gender but probably male are two fragments of white-skinned figures wearing boars-tusk helmets, one from the Cult Centre at Mycenae and one from Boeotian Thebes. In the fragment from Mycenae, only the head and shoulders are preserved, showing a white-skinned figure wearing a helmet while carrying a miniature griffin.35 The figure wears no visible clothing at the shoulder, implying a naked torso. Sara Immerwahr interpreted a white area outlined in black above the figure as the hand of a large-scale female figure and suggested that the warrior was a figurine carried in procession. Fritz Blakolmer subsequently proposed a reconstruction of the image as a male ivory (hence white) figurine with a griffin rhyton, carried by a large-scale female figure.36 The fragment from Thebes shows part of a white-skinned head wearing a boars-tusk helmet within some sort of frame.37 I originally thought this fell within the iconographic theme of ‘women at windows’; however, the figure appears to wear a

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B.R. JONES, “Veils and Mantels: An Investigation of the Construction and Function of the Costumes of the Veiled Dancer from Thera and the Camp Stool Banqueter from Knossos,” in K.P. FOSTER and R. LAFFINEUR (eds), Metron. Measuring the Aegean Bronze Age (2003) 441-450 (447-449, Pls LXXXVIII-XC). Cf. V. LENUZZA, “Dressing Priestly Shoulders: Suggestions from the Campstool Fresco,” in NOSCH and LAFFINEUR eds (supra n. 19) 255-264. G. RODENWALDT, Tiryns II (1976/1912) 98, fig. 40, 107-108, figs 45-46, Pl. XII; IMMERWAHR (supra n. 26) 202, Ti no. 6a. N. MARINATOS, “The Fresco from Room 31 at Mycenae; problems of method and interpretation,” in E.B. FRENCH and K.A. WARDLE (eds), Problems in Greek Prehistory (1988) 245-251, fig. 3 (drawing); IMMERWAHR (supra n. 26) 191, My no. 6; P. REHAK, “Tradition and Innovation in the Fresco from Room 31 in the ‘Cult Center’ at Mycenae,” in R. LAFFINEUR and J.L. CROWLEY (eds.), EIKON. Aegean Bronze Age Iconography. Shaping a Methodology (1992) 39-62, Pl. XIIa; L. MORGAN, “The Cult Centre at Mycenae and the duality of life and death,” in MORGAN ed. 2005 (supra n. 26) Pl. 24 (colour). P. REHAK, “New Observations on the Mycenaean ‘Warrior Goddess’,” AA (1984) 535-545; ID., “The Mycenaean ‘Warrior Goddess’ Revisited,” in R. LAFFINEUR (ed.), POLEMOS. Le contextE guerrier en Égée à l’Âge du Bronze (1999) 227-239. H. BRECOULAKI, C. ZAITOUN, S.R. STOCKER and J.L. DAVIS, “An Archer from the Palace of Nestor: A New Wall-Painting Fragment in the Chora Museum,” Hesperia 77 (2008) 363-397. Anderson suggested that the hunt represented may be a sacrificial ritual, watched by the Mistress of Animals: J.K. ANDERSON, “Huntresses and Goddess of the Hunt at Tiryns,” AJA 87 (1983) 224. I. KRITSELI-PROVIDI, Τοιχογραφíες του θρησκευτικού κεντρού των Μυκηνών 1982), Pl. Βα; IMMERWAHR (supra n. 26) 192, My no. 9. IMMERWAHR (supra n. 26) 121 and n. 21; BLAKOLMER 1993 (supra n. 25) 9, fig. 3; ID., “Processions in Aegean Iconography II: Who are the Participants?,” in L.A. HITCHCOCK, R. LAFFINEUR and J. CROWLEY (eds.), DAIS. The Aegean Feast (2008) 257-268 (264, Pls LIV.7, LIV.8 reconstruction). T.J. SPYROPOULOS, “Μυκηναικά Τοιχογραφήματα εκ Θηβών,” ADelt 26 (1971) 104-119, Pl. 25a; L. MORGAN, The Miniature Wall Paintings of Thera. A Study in Aegean Culture and Iconography (1988) Pl. 156; IMMERWAHR (supra n. 26) 201, Th no. 2; BLAKOLMER 1993 (supra n. 25) 11 and fig. 4; ID., “Body Marks and Textile Ornaments in Aegean Iconography: Their Meaning and Symbolism,” in M-L. NOSCH and R. LAFFINEUR eds (supra n. 19) 325-333 (330, Pl. LXXIII 9).

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beard, which would, of course, make it male.38 Blakolmer suggests, instead, that the fragment represents part of a textile pattern.39 While his identifications of the Mycenae and Thebes fragments as depicting an ivory figurine and a textile pattern respectively would put the two figures into a different category of representation from those of human figures, however we interpret them the recognition of both figures as male marks them as notable examples of chromatic variability with reference to gender. In contrast to the dual colour determinants of these examples, white-skinned figures actively associated with what are usually considered male sports involve multiple determinants to consider in deciding whether they cross the boundaries of colour conventions or of gender activities. Action is an important determinant of gender identification. In Aegean art, women and men are generally separated in their social spheres and are not characteristically depicted participating in shared activities.40 Perceived exceptions to this are, therefore, worthy of scrutiny. A small fragment from Tiryns associated with the boar hunt shows a white hand holding the shaft of what is presumably a spear, implying an active hunter, but unfortunately, the full context is lost.41 Only the white-skinned bull-leaper from Tiryns42 and what may have been white-skinned bull leapers from the Ramp House at Mycenae43 compare with the action and status of the individuals in the ‘Taureador Frescoes’ of Knossos. The ‘Priest King’ relief from a southeast passage at Knossos has occasioned a range of interpretative issues owing to its fragmentary state, both in terms of reconstruction (one figure or several) and of meaning through action and gender identification.44 Crucially, the original skin colour of the figure 38

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SPYROPOULOS (supra n. 37) 117-118; BLAKOLMER 1993 (supra n. 25) 11. In 1988 (MORGAN supra n. 37, Pl. 156, cf. 82-83) I referred to the figure as “female?” and saw the frame as a window. My understanding of the variability of meaning of white skin has expanded since then. The ‘beard’ (which I previously saw as a strap) is hard to identify with certainty, but is plausible. BLAKOLMER 1993 (supra n. 24) 11; 2012 (supra n. 37), 330. Blakolmer sees a second figure in the frame above, as a repeated pattern, which, however, I am not able to verify. N. MARINATOS, “Role and Sex Division in Ritual Scenes of Aegean Art,” Journal of Prehistoric Religion 1 (1987) 23-34; EAD., “Formalism and Gender Roles: A Comparison of Minoan and Egyptian Art,” in R. LAFFINEUR and W-D. NIEMEIER (eds), Politeia. Society and State in the Aegean Bronze Age (1995) 577-585. Exceptions are certain rituals, such as those depicted on the Ayia Triada sarcophagus and the Vestibule procession scene at Pylos (M. LANG, The Palace of Nestor at Pylos in Western Messenia, vol. 2, The Frescoes (1969) H 5: 38-40, 64-68, Pls 3-11, 119-120, N. The Camp Stool painting would fall into this category if we go with the garment variable rather than the colour variable. RODENWALDT (supra n. 30) 121 (no. 157), Pl. XIV.1. Rodenwaldt cites fragments of shoulders and an upper arm as related to the hand: 120-121 (no. 156), Pl. XVII:1; J.K. ANDERSON, Hunting in the Ancient World (1985) 13-14. The leg of a figure standing in front of a horse was interpreted by Rodenwaldt as a female hunter (supra) 111, no. 141, Pl. XIV:10, but, as Christine Morris pointed out, the continuation of the white beyond the red bands could well be part of the leggings [i.e. knee-guards] like those worn by hunters in the Pylos paintings (C. Morris, cited by ANDERSON 1985 (supra) 158, note 38; cf. LANG (supra n. 40) Pls B, M). RODENWALDT (supra n. 30), Pl. XVIII; IMMERWAHR (supra n. 26) 202, Ti no. 1; M.C. SHAW, “The Bull-Leaping Fresco from below the Ramp House at Mycenae: A Study in Iconography and Artistic Transmission,” BSA 91 (1996) 167-190, col. Pl. D(2). SHAW (supra n. 42) 175-176, figs 2 (no. 6) and 3 (no. 4), col. Pl. A (4 and 6). Lamb identified the white legs in (4) as female but did not consider the white “line” in (6) to be a “finger”: W. LAMB, “Frescoes from the Ramp House,” BSA 24 (1919-1921) 189-199 (192-193). A. EVANS, BSA 7 (1900-1901) 15-16; EVANS (supra n. 26) Vol. II (1928) 774-785, col. Pl. XIV (Frontispiece); M.A.S. CAMERON, “New Restorations of Minoan Frescoes from Knossos,” BICS 17 (1970) 163-166 (164-165, ‘Princess of the Bull-ring”); H. WATERHOUSE, “Priest-kings?,” BICS 21 (1974) 141160; B. KAISER, Untersuchungen zum minoischen Relief (1976) 284, 292; J. COULOMB, “Le Prince aux Lys de Knossos reconsidéré,” BCH 103 (1979) 29-50 (male boxer); W.-D. NIEMEIER, “Das Stuckrelief des ‘Prinzen mit der Federkrone’ aus Knossos und minoische Götterdarstellungen,” AM 102 (1987) 65-98; ID., “The ‘Priest King’ Fresco from Knossos. A New Reconstruction and Interpretation,” in FRENCH and WARDLE eds (supra n. 31) 235-244 (epiphany of a male god); IMMERWAHR (supra n.

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has been called into question (with white, pink, yellow and red all having been suggested), making interpretation of meaning hazardous. Against a dark red background, pink skin (as Gilliéron reconstructed it) would be an appropriate contrast colour were red skin intended, as was the case in the Tell el Dabᶜa Hunt Frieze (Pl. XVIc) and also in Mayan reliefs, in which a lighter red was used for male flesh against the darker red of the background.45 There is no doubt as to the male anatomy and costume. Other, earlier relief fragments from Knossos, thought to be athletes, are too fragmentary to play a major role in the debate on colour.46 White Taureadors: Girls, Boys or Other? Only in the ‘Taureador Frescoes’ from The Court of the Stone Spout at Knossos can we see multiple determinants of gender within the representations, affording the opportunity for informed debate. These paintings have occasioned many commentaries, not least within the seminal studies of Aegean representations of bull leaping by John Younger.47 Most recently, the figures have been the subject of an in depth study by Nanno Marinatos and Clairy Palyvou.48 In a series of panels as reconstructed, they identify fourteen athletes, eight of whom are painted with white skin, six with red (Pl. XVa-b). All have naked torso and wear the distinctly male garment of a loincloth, some with a preserved codpiece. They have broad shoulders, narrow waists, and on four fragments, reconstructed as two white-skinned athletes, black lines indicating muscles on their arms, legs, and (in one case) abdomen. Evans identified the white figures as female solely on the basis of the colour convention. As a result, the reconstruction by Gilliéron fils exaggerated the profile of the chest and apparently added a red nipple.49 In 1988, Silvia Damiani Indelicato drew attention to the distinctly male characteristics of body and clothing and the lack of any physiological or cultural attributes that are female. She astutely questioned the validity of skin-colour conventions as a key to sex.50 Her interpretation of the main

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26) 171, Kn. no. 7; E.N. DAVIS, “Art and Politics in the Aegean: The Missing Ruler,” in P. REHAK (ed.), The Role of the Ruler in the Prehistoric Aegean (1995) 11-22 (12-13); S. SHERRATT, Arthur Evans, Knossos and the Priest-King (2000) esp. 19 and n. 30; M.C. SHAW, “The ‘Priest-King’ Fresco from Knossos: Man, Woman, Priest, King, or Someone Else?,” in A.P. CHAPIN (ed.), Χάρις. Essays in Honor of Sara A. Immerwahr (2004) 6584; HOOD (supra n. 26) no. 18, 68-69. See also N. MARINATOS, “The Lily Crown and Sacred Kingship in Minoan Crete,” in P. BETANCOURT, M.C. NELSON and H. WILLIAMS (eds), Krinoi dai Limenes. Studies in Honor of Joseph and Maria Shaw (2007) 271-276. L. SCHELE, “Color on Classic Architecture and Monumental Sculpture of the Southern Maya Lowlands,” in E. HILL BOON (ed.), Painted Architecture and Polychrome Monumental Sculpture in Mesoamerica (1985) 31-49 (40). Kaiser described the white relief figures as flatter (i.e. less muscular) than the red (KAISER [supra n. 44] 283); cf. CHAPIN (supra n. 19) 299. On the reliefs: KAISER (supra n. 44) 279-282, figs 443-458; EVANS (supra n. 26) Vol. III (1930) 497-509; M.C. SHAW, “Bull Leaping Frescoes at Knossos and their Influence on the Tell el-Dab‘a Murals,” Ägypten und Levante 5 (1995) 91-120, Appendix 1:A 113-117 (list with references). Evans identified relief white-skinned breasts as belonging to female bull-leapers, on the grounds (simply) that there was no apparent clothing (Vol. III [1930] 508-509, fig. 354a-b; KAISER [supra n. 44] 280, fig. 451b). To confuse the issue, “a ruddy tint” was identified on the flat surface beneath the moulded breast, which Evans saw as “accidental” (EVANS [supra] Vol. III, 508, cf. Vol. I, 531). J. YOUNGER, “Bronze Age Representations of Aegean Bull-Leaping,” AJA 80 (1976) 125-137; ID., “Bronze Age Representations of Aegean Bull-Games, III,” in LAFFINEUR and NIEMEIER eds (supra n. 40) 507-545. EVANS (supra n. 26) Vol. III (1930) 209-232; IMMERWAHR (supra n. 26) 175, Kn no. 23; HOOD (supra n. 26) no. 33, 79-80, with earlier references. N. MARINATOS and C. PALYVOU, “Taureador Scenes in Knossos,” in M. BIETAK, N. MARINATOS and C. PALYVOU, Taureador Scenes in Tell el-Dabᶜa (Avaris) and Knossos (2007) 115-141. MARINATOS and PALYVOU (supra n. 48) 118, 128. EVANS (supra n. 26) Vol. III (1930) 213, fig. 144; M.A.S. CAMERON and S. HOOD, Sir Arthur Evans’ Knossos Fresco Atlas, with Catalogue of Plates by M. Cameron and S. Hood (1967) Pl. IX. The same interpretative criterion was used for a very fragmentary miniature scene of bull-leaping from the Ivory Deposit: EVANS (supra) Vol. III, 208-209, fig. 143. S. DAMIANI INDELICATO, “Were Cretan Girls Playing at Bull-Leaping?,” Cretan Studies 1 (1988) 39-

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reconstructed panel was imaginative but without parallel: that only the red acrobat is real, the white figures being symbolic, a mental image that introduces the notion of time into the performance.51 In 1989, Nanno Marinatos also commented on the masculinity of the figures, suggesting “a more complex colour code” than that of gender, in which the colour contrast is one of hierarchy.52 Rejecting the interpretation of white taureadors as female has nothing to do with restrictive ideas about what women did and did not do, as some detractors have claimed (there are clear instances in Egyptian art of women acrobats, plainly identifiable by their breasts, though usually not with men and never with bulls53), but rests on the evidence as presented. My own position, based on the male physiology and clothing of the Knossos figures in conjunction with observations of shifts in skin colour conventions in the wall paintings of Thera, Tell el Dabᶜa, and Egypt, has been that all the figures are indeed male, but those that are light-skinned are younger than those that are dark, suggesting an adolescent, pre-initiatory status.54 Initiation rites have been identified by Robert Koehl in the Ayia Triada Chieftain Cup and by several scholars, the author included, in the Thera wall paintings, especially Xesté 3. 55 Fritz Blakolmer also suggested that the taureadors are youths involved in initiation rites, though, adhering to the familiar colour conventions, he saw the white-skinned participants as female.56 Similarly, Paul Rehak, drawing attention to the long hair, commented “these adolescent youths may represent gender-neutral παιδιά who have not arrived yet at

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47 (42). DAMIANI INDELICATO (supra n. 50) 43. N. MARINATOS, “The bull as an adversary: Some observations on bull-hunting and bull-leaping,” in Αφιέρωμα στον Στυλιάνο Αλεξίου (1989) 23-32; cf. N. MARINATOS, Minoan Religion (1993) 219-220. W. DECKER, Sports and Games of Ancient Egypt (1992) 136-146, figs 99, 101-106, 108, 110. In Egyptian art, only men are involved in bull-grappling or bull sports: L. MORGAN, “Play, Ritual and Transformation: Sports, Animals and the Maturation of Young Men in Egyptian and Aegean Art,” in C. RENFREW, I. MORLEY and M. BOYD (eds), Ritual, Play and Belief, in Evolution and Early Human Societies (2018) 211-236 (218-222, with references). L. MORGAN, “Minoan Painting and Egypt: The Case of Tell el Dabᶜa,” in W.V. DAVIES and L. SCHOFIELD (eds), Egypt, the Aegean and the Levant. Interconnections in the Second Millennium B.C. (1995) 29-53 (4243); EAD., “Form and Meaning in Figurative Painting,” in S. SHERRATT (ed.), The Wall Paintings of Thera, Vol. II (2000) 925-946 (939-941). R. KOEHL, “The Chieftain Cup and a Minoan Rite of Passage,” JHS 106 (1986) 99-110; ID., “Beyond the ‘Chieftain Cup’: More Images Relating to Minoan Male ‘Rites of Passage’,” in R. KOEHL (ed.), Studies in Aegean Art and Culture (2016) 114-132; cf. G. SÄFLUND, “The agoge of the Minoan youth as reflected by palatial iconography”, in R. HÄGG and N. MARINATOS (eds), The Function of the Minoan Palaces (1987) 227233. Thera: N. MARINATOS, Art and Religion in Thera. Reconstructing a Bronze Age Society (1984) 61-84; MARINATOS 1993 (supra n. 52) 203-211; C. DOUMAS, “Ή ξεστή 3 καί οί κοκινοκέφαλοι στήν τής Θήρας”, in L. KASTRINAKI, G. ORPHANOU and N. GIANNADAKIS (eds) ΕΙΛΑΠΙΝΗ. Τόμος τιμητικός γιά τόν Καθηγητή Νικόλαο Πλάτωνα (1987) 151-159; C. DOUMAS, The Wall-Paintings of Thera (1992) 130; DOUMAS (supra n. 18) 976-979; V. KARAGEORGHIS, “Rites de Passage at Thera: Some Oriental Comparanda,” in D.A. HARDY (ed.), Thera and the Aegean World III, Vol. I (1990) 67-71; MORGAN 2000 (supra n. 54) 940-941; L. MORGAN, “The Transformative Power of Mural Art: Ritual Space, Symbolism, and the Mythic Imagination,” in E. ALRAM-STERN, F. BLAKOLMER, S. DEGER-JALKOTZY, R. LAFFINEUR and J. WEILHARTNER (eds), METAPHYSIS. Ritual, Myth and Symbolism in the Aegean Bronze Age (2016) 187-197; MORGAN 2018 (supra n. 53) 225-233; I. PAPAGEORGIOU, “On the Rites de Passage in Late Cycladic Akrotiri, Thera: a Reconsideration of the Frescoes of the ‘Priestess’ and the ‘Fishermen’ of the West House,” in SHERRATT ed. (supra n. 17) 958-970. On initiation of youths to adulthood in the anthropological literature, see especially: A. VAN GENNEP, The Rites of Passage (1960) 65-115·; J.S. LA FONTAINE, Initiation. Ritual Drama and Secret Knowledge Across the World (1985); P. GARWOOD, “Rites of passage,” in T. INSOLL (ed.), Oxford Handbook of the Archaeology of Ritual and Religion (2011) 261-278. BLAKOLMER (supra n. 25) 13. Besides the white skin, Blakolmer commented on the ‘breast’ of one of the figures and red lines in the ears of two of the figures, which he compares to the Xesté 3 girls. However, the former has now been shown to be reconstruction (supra n. 49) and the latter would be hardly visible on red-skinned figures, so can only apply to white skin, regardless of sex.

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their sexually specific and differentiated adult state”.57 Accepting the conventional colour code, elsewhere he defined the white-skinned athletes as pre-pubescent girls.58 Marinatos and Palyvou argue that the colour differentiation is of “specialization of task and status among males.” 59 The white figures are consistently larger than the red and [some, not all] have pronounced muscles indicated by fine lines. Judging by the action – hanging onto the bull’s horns or confronting the bull – they concluded that they perform more dangerous tasks than the red acrobats.60 Yet according to the reconstructions, two of the white figures grasp the horns, one (probably) faces the bull, two are behind the bull (one having landed) and two have fallen. In contrast, two of the red figures leap over the bull, two appear to have landed behind the bull, one has extended arms to the side of the bull, and one has fallen.61 If anything, the red figures appear to be more experienced. The only consistent difference in apparel is that the white figures wear boots while the red do not. Loincloths, armbands and hand bindings are worn by some of both skin colours,62 one red figure wears what may be a halter63 and one white figure has necklaces and a blue headband.64 It is only this particular figure that has muscular striations on the torso (Pl. XVb, top row, fourth image from left). Marinatos and Palyvou see the smaller size and slender proportions of the red figures as an indication that they are younger than the white.65 There are, however, no comparisons either in Aegean or contemporary Egyptian art, nor, to my knowledge, anywhere in the world, for boys (or girls) being portrayed darker than the mature male. The larger scale may instead indicate that the white figures are the main subject of the action, with one, distinguished by headband, necklaces, and muscular torso, being of particular importance. This would be appropriate were it that these are the young initiates undergoing trials at their transition from youth to manhood. Such initiates could well have been age 18 or 19, as are, for example, the Hamar of Ethiopia when they mark their transition to manhood with bull-leaping rituals.66 At this age, young men are fully-grown and already muscular. Before moving to the case of yellow boys, another option must be considered. In recent years, notions of sexual ambiguity and plurality have been brought into play in Aegean studies, particularly in

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P. REHAK, “Aegean Breechcloths, Kilts, and the Keftiu Paintings,” AJA 100 (1996) 35-51 (41). P. REHAK, “The construction of gender in late Bronze Age Aegean art: a prolegomenon,” in M. CASEY, D. DONLON, J. HOPE and S. WELLFARE (eds), Redefining Archaeology. Feminist Perspectives (1998) 191-198 (192); P. REHAK (ed. J.G. YOUNGER), “Some Unpublished Studies by Paul Rehak on Gender in Aegean Art,” in KOPAKA ed. (supra n. 18) 11-17 (15-16). MARINATOS and PALYVOU (supra n. 48) 127. MARINATOS and PALYVOU (supra n. 48) 128. Cf. BIETAK in BIETAK, MARINATOS and PALYVOU (supra n. 48) 83-85 on the Tell el Dabᶜa bull sports. MARINATOS and PALYVOU (supra n. 48) figs 104, 107-109, 112, 115-116, 121 (reconstructions), figs 110-111, 118 (individual figures). MARINATOS and PALYVOU (supra n. 48) 128 comment that the red leapers have no boots and wear codpieces rather than kilts. From their illustrations, two white and one red figure wear a yellow loincloth with codpiece or similar, one white and one red figure wear a loincloth/codpiece seen from the front, and two white figures wear a garment that looks like a loin cloth from the near side but a kilt on the far side. The other seven figures are not preserved around the middle. MARINATOS and PALYVOU (supra n. 48) fig. 112, Cat. no. 14. Marinatos and Palyvou call the white bands “suspenders”; Cameron thought they were muscles (M.A.S. CAMERON, A General Study of Minoan Frescoes, PhD diss., University of Newcastle-upon-Tyne [1974], Vol. II, Pl. 40 B, Vol. III, 41), and Evans saw them as two necklaces (EVANS [supra n. 26] Vol. III [1930] 216, n. 2). MARINATOS and PALYVOU (supra n. 48) fig. 109, Cat. no. 15. Marinatos comments that the blue at the nape of the neck is probably not original. Younger notes that blue headbands are only worn by women (YOUNGER [supra n. 17] 258-260, 275; ID., in LAFFINEUR and NIEMEIER eds [supra n. 39] 515); but a “cloth ribbon” is worn by both men and women in the Knossos Grandstand miniature (ID. [supra n. 17] 259). The headband could also be a sign of youth or other distinguishing feature appropriate to the personage. MARINATOS and PALYVOU (supra n. 48) 128. MORGAN (supra n. 53) 232.

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relation to the colour debate. 67 Anthropological studies demonstrate that a fixed polarity between male/female is not the only gender model,68 and sexual identity can be a process, marked by initiation rites. Yet whether seen as a continuum between states or as polarities, all cultures do primarily distinguish male from female, and although in contemporary discourse biological sex is contrasted with culturally defined gender, this distinction is itself culture-specific.69 While we do not have textual sources to identify notions of sexual identity in the Aegean Bronze Age, the Egyptian evidence indicates a clear propensity for duality, and, as Lynn Meskell points out, it is only in the Late Period and Greek and Roman times that we encounter a notion of sexual ambiguity.70 In art and thought, androgynous or intersex beings are invariably mythical, as in the androgyne of Plato’s creation story (spherical body with dual genitalia),71 Egyptian fecundity figures (male bodies with pendulous breasts), 72 and, of course, Greek Hermaphroditus (male blended with female). 73 All are mythical and all are the result of divine action or are themselves divine. Ambiguity of gender in (pre-modern) art is strikingly rare and, in terms of the Bronze Age, with one notable exception, cannot confidently be said to be an ancient rather than a modern interpretative ambiguity. Hatshepsut’s gradual transformation from queen to king designed to legitimize her pharonic rule is, of course, the exception (n. 20). Where those contemporary studies that see sexual indeterminacy in Aegean art are correct is in their insistence that colour cannot be used as a defining and exclusive determinant in gender distinction. But when we are confounded by what we see as ambiguities in the colour convention, as in the Knossos Taureadors, it is not necessary to seek alternative genders, rather we need to re-examine the symbolic use of colour and broaden our perspectives. Gender is not the only determining factor of skin colour in art.

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B. ALBERTI, Archaeology and Masculinity in Late Bronze Knossos (Ph.D. diss. Southampton, 1997); ID., “Gender and the Figurative Art of Late Bronze Age Knossos,” in Y. HAMILAKIS (ed.), Labyrinth Revisited. Rethinking ‘Minoan’ Archaeology (2002) 98-117; ID., “Bodies in Prehistory: Beyond the Sex/Gender Split,” in P.P. FUNARI, A. ZARANKIN and E. STOVEL (eds), Global Archaeological Theory. Contextual Voices and Contemporary Thoughts (2005) 107-120; L. HITCHCOCK, “Engendering Ambiguity in Minoan Crete: It’s a Drag to be a King,” in M. DONALD and L. HURCOMBE (eds), Representations of Gender from Prehistory to the Present (2000) 69-86; A. ALEXANDRI, “Envisioning gender in Aegean prehistory,” in KOPAKA ed. (supra n. 18) 19-24 (21); L. HITCHCOCK and M. NIKOLAIDOU, “Gender in Greek and Aegean Prehistory,” in D. BOLGER (ed.), A Companion to Gender Prehistory (2013) 502-525; A. NEWMAN, “Queering the Minoans: Gender Performativity and the Aegean Color Convention in Fresco Painting at Knossos,” Journal of Mediterranean Archaeology 30 (2017) 213-236. See for example G. HERDT (ed.), Third Sex, Third Gender (1993); and the discussion in L. MESKELL Archaeologies of Social Life. Age, Sex, Class et cetera in Ancient Egypt (1999), Ch. 2 (53-106), esp. 69-82, 98-99. On gender variance (male priests who take on female characteristics in the service of a goddess) in Mesopotamian, Graeco-Roman and Indian religions, see W. ROSCOE, “Priests of the Goddess: Gender Transgression in Ancient Religion,” History of Religions, Vol. 35, no. 3 (1996) 195-230. ALBERTI 2005 (supra n. 67) provides a history and critique of the distinction between sex and gender in relation to archaeology, along with a summary of the work of Judith Butler, whose writings on gender performativity and the primacy of culture in defining sexual identity have been influential to those Aegeanists who uphold the view of sexual fluidity in the Knossos paintings - ALBERTI, HITCHCOCK, NEWMAN (supra n. 67) - and cf. S. GERMAN, Performance, Power and the Art of the Aegean Bronze Age (2005). MESKELL (supra n. 68) 76, 218. PLATO, The Symposium, 189c-193d (Aristophanes’ turn); L. BRISSON (trans. J. LLOYD), Sexual Ambivalence. Androgyny and Hermaphroditism in Graeco-Roman Antiquity (2002) 73-85. J. BAINES, Fecundity Figures. Egyptian Personification and the Iconology of a Genre (2001/1985), esp. 118-122; G. HART, A Dictionary of Egyptian Gods and Goddesses (1986) 75-76 (Hapy). OVID (supra n. 16) 144-150, Book IV, lines 273-387. BRISSON (supra n. 71) 42-60; A. STEWART, Art, Desire and the Body in Ancient Greece (1997) 228-230, figs 158-159.

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Yellow Boys: Liminality and Masculinity Just as in the Knossos panels, in the Tell el Dabᶜa Taureadors Frieze there are two different colours of the athletes – red and yellow (Pl. XVIa-b) – with perhaps the addition of white.74 The action takes place against two backgrounds: red with a maze beneath it, and yellow. The fragments of two figures with yellow skin (torso and head of one, arm of the other) are against the body of a bull in each case, the bull being against the maze pattern, which means that the rest of the bodies of the two acrobats must have been against the red background above. Another bull at a higher plane has his head against the red background, above which is an area of white with blue strips, alternatively reconstructed as rockwork or, along with two fragments of white booted legs, a white acrobat wearing white loincloth with blue borders.75 In contrast, against the yellow background there are three bull leapers and two bull grapplers, all of whom have red skin. First impression is that the colour choices were in response to the backgrounds – yellow on red, red on yellow, given that red on red would not have been clearly readable. However, yellow skin (let alone white) was not the only choice possible. The skin of the male hunters in the Hunt Frieze is red ochre when the scene is on a yellow ground but light red when the ground is red ochre (Pl. XVIb).76 Colour in these scenes, as in the Knossos paintings, is an important signifier. Manfred Bietak and Nanno Marintatos both proposed that the different skin colours signify distinctions between skills.77 This is not inconsistent with a distinction in age and hence status. In the best-preserved fragment, the yellowskinned figure leaping over the bull’s neck has blue at the temple and nape of the neck alongside his long locks, while another yellow head has a blue patch at the temple and a large lock of hair at the crown.78 Blue, indicative of a partially shaved head, signals youth in the paintings of Akrotiri, Thera.79 In Room 3b of Xesté 3, three of the four indisputably male figures are naked and have partially blue heads with hair locks. Their physiognomy is indicative of different ages from childhood to adolescence,80 and while three are red, the youngest is distinguished by his yellow skin.81 Clearly the Tell el Dabᶜa acrobats are not as young as this boy, but it may be that yellow skin is a signal for comparative youth, in contrast to the relative maturity of those with red skin. As with the Knossos Taureador panels, the colour distinctions between light and dark in the Tell el Dabᶜa paintings could signify youth and maturity, pre- and post-initiatory status. The slightly larger scale of the light coloured figures would then indicate their primary role in the rites of the bull sports. In Egyptian art, in all periods, but especially in the Old and Middle Kingdoms, we encounter contrasts between yellow and red skin for male figures, implying distinctions in status or of youth and age.82 In a painting in the 12th dynasty tomb chapel of Antefoker at Thebes, a young boy is distinguished 74 75 76

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BIETAK, MARINATOS and PALYVOU (supra n. 48) 54-64, figs 59-60 (reconstructions). BIETAK, MARINATOS and PALYVOU (supra n. 48), figs 59A, 59B, Cat. A6, pp. 89-91. L. MORGAN, “Hunt Scenes in Context: Tell el Dabᶜa and the Theban Tombs,” in M. BIETAK, K. KOPETZKY and S. PRELL (eds), Fifty Years of Excavation and Research at Tell el-Dabᶜa/Avaris (in press) figs 1, 10b (cf. 10d on yellow ground). M. BIETAK, “Stierspringer und Stierfänger,” in M. BIETAK et al., Pharaonen und Fremde, Dynastien im Dunkel (1994) 199-200; N. MARINATOS, “The Ideals of Manhood in Minoan Crete,” in MORGAN ed. (supra n. 26) 149-158 (157); BIETAK, MARINATOS and PALYVOU (supra n. 48) 83-85. BIETAK, MARINATOS and PALYVOU (supra n. 48), figs 48, 56. DAVIS 1986 (supra n. 18); KOEHL 1986 (supra n. 55) 101; KOEHL 2016 (supra n. 55) 114-116; DOUMAS 1987 (supra n. 55); DOUMAS (supra n. 18) 972-973; CHAPIN (supra n. 18) 230-231. Images: DOUMAS 1992 (supra n. 55) figs 18-19, 22-25 (West House); 79, 81-82 (B1); 107-109, 111-113, 115-116, 120-121 (Xesté 3). CHAPIN (supra n. 18). DOUMAS 1992 (supra n. 55) figs 109, 112; MORGAN 2000 (supra n. 54) fig. 4. E.g. Old Kingdom: C.R. WILLIAMS, The Decoration of the Tomb of Per-Nēb. The Technique and the Color Conventions (1933) 65-66. In the paintings from Meidum, the tone of men’s skin is variable – light to darker red – while women are a lighter yellow (W.M.F. PETRIE, Medum [1892, reprint 2008] Pls XI-XIII), but one of two hieroglyphs signifying ‘old man’ matches the pale yellow of the women (PETRIE [supra] Pl. XIII, centre).

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from the older figures in the same scene in exactly the same ways as in the Xesté 3 painting, by his short stature, nakedness, and the yellowish-pink colour of his skin. 83 Sometimes the distinction is more ambiguous, as on a false door from the First Intermediate Period. Above is the tomb owner seated before a table of offerings; below are two smaller images of him with his wife.84 The upper figure and one of the lower ones is red (with wig), the other is yellow (with short hair). Red skin defines the vibrantly mature adult, but is the yellow-skinned figure the tomb owner as a youth or in old age? Imperceptible folds on the abdomen suggest the latter, though the figure is slim. Fischer, discussing Old Kingdom statues and their representations, interpreted yellow skin as depicting either young boys or middle age men, citing for the latter corpulence and stomach folds.85 Mysliwiec, on the other hand, proposes that the chromatic contrast refers to Horus (yellow = “peaceful”) and Seth (red = “restless energy”).86 Horus is, of course, the son of Isis and Osiris and nephew of Seth, so defined in familial terms as younger. Though he doesn’t make that connection, Mysliwiec cites particular examples in which yellow is clearly applied to boys, as in the tomb of Khaemwaset, son of Ramses III, in which the father has red skin and the son has yellow, and a Roman double portrait of a younger and an older man, light- and dark-skinned respectively.87 In Egyptian art, children are sometimes the same colour as their parents and sometimes lighter, and this applies even in the case of foreigners.88 As Mysliwiec points out, throughout Egyptian history there are “innumerable variations in the application of red and yellow” so that “the meaning of these two colours was much broader than just the differentiation between the male and female genders.”89 Whether or not there is a naturalistic aspect to the paler skin of boys (whose complexion has not yet darkened with maturity) this explanation cannot be applied to old men. Nor can one argue that only mature men were sun-tanned, as boys certainly would have spent time out-of-doors and both children and women are shown working in the fields. Instead, there is a symbolic reason for the colour shift. When boys and old men are depicted yellow, they are feminized by their colour, implying respectively potential and past masculinity. It is no coincidence that in Egyptian texts, while women are described as “gold”, men are “strong”, rwd, a word also associated with red stones (sandstone and red granite).90 At the same time, the

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Middle Kingdom: A.M. BLACKMAN, The Rock Tombs of Meir I (1914) 17: all men are yellow, like the women, except for the prince, who is red. In contrast, in some of the models from the tomb of Meket-Rĕ‘ the tomb owner or overseer is painted yellow, while the working men are red (WILLIAMS 1933 [supra] 66, n. 172). The colour of status is different in these two examples, but the contrast between figures is the key to meaning. N. de G. DAVIES, The Tomb of Antefoker, vizier of Sesostris I, and of his wife, Senet (No. 60) (1920) Pl. XXIIIB; MORGAN 2000 (supra n. 54) 939, fig. 5. A. OPPENHEIM, Dorothea ARNOLD, Dieter ARNOLD and K. YAMAMOTO, Ancient Egypt Transformed. The Middle Kingdom (2015) 227-228, Cat. 165 (K. YAMAMOTO); cf. MYSLIWIEC (supra n. 23) fig. 1 (printed in reverse). I am grateful to Adela Oppenheim for clarification on this and for directing me to the translation of the text on the Metropolitan Museum of Art website. H.G. FISCHER, “Yellow-skinned Representations of Men in the Old Kingdom,” Varia Aegyptiaca, Journal of the American Research Center in Egypt 2 (1963) 17-22. MYSLIWIEC (supra n. 23) 225-238. MYSLIWIEC (supra n. 23) 235 and 236, fig. 2. Syrian: E. DZIOBEK and M.A. RAZIQ, Das Grab des Sobekhotep, Theben nr. 63 (1990) Pl. 3c; Nubian: J. VERCOUTTER, “The Iconography of the Black in Ancient Egypt: From the Beginnings to the Twentyfifth Dynasty,” in J. VERCOUTTER, J. LECLANT, F.M. SNOWDEN Jr. and J. DESANGES (eds), The Image of the Black in Western Art, I: From the Pharaohs to the Fall of the Roman Empire (1976/1991) 33-88 (55, fig. 20, Tomb of Horemheb). MYSLIWIEC (supra n. 23) 234. WARBURTON 2008 (supra n. 2) 244; WARBURTON 2010 (supra n. 2) 179. Gold is the colour of divine flesh (C. TRAUNECKER, The Gods of Egypt [(2001] 44), and the yellow skin of women associates the ideal feminine beauty with the goddess Hathor (CHEALE [supra n. 2] 62-63). Queen Nefertari, in her tomb at Thebes (QV 66), is distinguished from the golden-skinned goddesses by her light red skin: L. MANNICHE, “The Body Colours of Gods and Men in Inlaid Jewellery and related Objects from the Tomb of Tutankhamun,” Acta Orientalia 43 (1982) 5-12 (7, n. 13); J.K. McDONALD, House of Eternity. The

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fact that high-ranking officials are sometimes depicted in paired statues in the vitality of manhood as red and in their older age as yellow implies a positive meaning to both colours. Clearly, officials would not want portrayals of themselves in their tomb chapels that denigrated their masculinity. It has been proposed that as yellow is equated with gold, the colour of divine flesh, the yellow skin of older men expresses the quality of immortality.91 However, an association with the divine does not easily account for the yellow skin of boys. If both young boys and old men can be depicted with yellow skin while the vitality of manhood is rendered in red, then yellow for males would imply liminality: youth before adulthood; age before eternal life. Diversity of meaning invested in lighter skin colour is exemplified in a painted wooden model of a sporting boat from the Middle Kingdom Theban tomb of Meketre (TT 280), which may reflect this notion of liminality. The male crew have the usual dark red skin. In contrast, the tomb owner (seated in an open stern cabin in the pose of a statue) and two other figures, his squatting son and a standing priest, have shaven heads and yellow skin colour.92 If the interpretations of the three personages are correct, paler skin is used to distinguish the liminal and transformative states of the soul (ka statue), youth (the son) and priestly ritual. A notion of liminality may also be implied on the cartouche-shaped container from the young Tutankhamun’s tomb. On one side the two faces of Tutankhamun are pale yellow and he wears the sidelock of youth, on the other side they are black and light red and he wears the blue crown. Above each head hangs the sun disc with the protective signs of kingship (uraeus) and life (ankh), and on each side is ḥḥ, signifying eternity. The four faces have been interpreted as reflecting the stages of Tutankhamun’s transformation from child to rebirth: boyhood (pale yellow), adulthood (light red), death (black) and rebirth (pale yellow).93 The pale skin, particularly with the lock of youth, can be seen in terms of liminality, connoting both pre-pubescence in life and rebirth in the afterlife. The crucial point is that in Egyptian art of all periods there is variety of meaning in colour contrasts and although it is not a consistent convention in Egyptian art, light skin colour can be a visual determiner of both young and old males, with red skin signalling the virility of the mature male. Ultimately, however we interpret the white and yellow taureadors of Knossos and Tell el Dabᶜa (whose actions preclude old age) or the Egyptian instances of yellow males, skin colour in ancient art is more symbolic than representational and colour distinctions serve as visual markers of the relativity of individuals within society and their relationship to the world and the cosmos.

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Tomb of Nefertari (1996), col. Pls on p. 10-11, 71, 81, 107. CHEALE (supra n. 2) 62. Cf. L. MANNICHE, “The Complexion of Queen Ahmosi Nefertere,” Acta Orientalia 40 (1979) 11-19 (15, n. 20) citing F. Daumas. A rare instance of a male figure portrayed white, as opposed to yellow, is seen in the 20th dynasty Harris Papyrus (British Museum), in which Ramesses III stands before the gods, his white skin standing for divine yellow: WILKINSON (supra n. 2) 121. Interpretation of the figure of the owner as a statue and the standing figure as a priest: OPPENHEIM et al. (supra n. 84) 211-212, Cat. 150 (C.H. ROEHRIG) (colour). Winlock interpreted the three yellowskinned figures as “members of the leisure class” and the standing figure as an overseer: H.E. WINLOCK, Models of Daily Life in Ancient Egypt from the Tomb of Meket-Rē‘ at Thebes (1955) 64-67, Pl. 51 (b/w). MANNICHE (supra n. 90) 10; Cf. MANNICHE (supra n. 91) 16-17, also on the significance of black; CHEALE (supra n. 2) 61; Z. HAWASS and S. VANNINI, King Tutankhamun. The Treasures of the Tomb (2007) 94-95 (colour). The red is light but (just) distinguishable from the pale yellow. Amongst the materials used, Gilber et al mention red jasper, polychrome glass, and “translucent calcite or quartz with a pigment resembling the color of carnelian at the rear” the latter used for the king’s body, but do not specify whether the faces have different tones of pigment at the rear: K.S. GILBER et al. (eds), Treasures of Tutankhamun (1976) 128, Cat. 19. I am most grateful to Lise Manniche for clarification and bibliography on this intriguing object.

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Conclusions In my ongoing study of skin colours in art, I have attempted to look at the phenomenon of colour contrast from a wider, cross-cultural perspective, drawing attention to exceptions as the key to nuanced readings. I have found some striking correspondences and some distinctive patterns of exceptions. Here are some tentative conclusions to the study so far: 1. Skin colour, whether differentiated by gender, age, or ethnicity, invariably has symbolic connotations. These connotations can shift according to context, becoming what are seen as exceptions to the rule, but are in fact evidence for the fluidity of chromatic symbolism. 2. In many cultures, the duality of male and female is represented through dark skin versus light skin. (The reverse is extremely rare and invariably refers to deities.) 3. Where there is a disparity between the usual colour conventions for skin and other gender determinants (body shape, clothing, action), symbolic meanings beyond gender must be sought. Light-skinned figures with male musculature and apparel are invariably male. 4. White is universally associated with purity and youth, and by extension is often represented as the colour of young women and sometimes children. White is a liminal colour, associated with initiations and transitions as well as the transcendent (beyond the body), ancestors and the dead (without blood). In these cases it connotes a state of suspended being. 5. Red is universally associated with energy and potency and by extension is frequently represented as the skin colour of adult males. It connotes vitality and full-blooded life. 6. In several cultures, youth and childhood is differentiated from adulthood by a lighter colour of skin. While old men may be depicted darker or lighter than men in their prime (according to the culture), children are never depicted darker than adults. These cross-cultural observations provide a framework within which to evaluate colour differentiation in the Aegean and Egypt. Light and dark are by no means restricted to gender as determinants of contrast. In Egyptian art, in particular, there is considerable fluidity in the use of colour to distinguish individuals according not only to gender but also to youth and age, status, ethnicity, affinity or alliance, divinity, and perhaps other states as yet un-deciphered. This fluidity should be kept in mind when considering what appear to be anomalies in Aegean art. Anomalies imply flexibility. The Knossos ‘Taureador Frescoes’ challenge our ideas of the inviolability of the gender colour convention, encouraging us to broaden our definition of colour distinctions by recognizing that they can apply to a range of visually constructed reflections of social values. On the Early Attic vase (n.6), nobody would think that Odysseus is female because his skin is white. Nor do Egyptian women become male when their skin is turned to red. There are other ideological factors at play. Surveying the range of use of colour to distinguish people, the link between youth and pale skin is undeniable. The physiognomy of the Knossos figures gives pause for thought – unequivocally male, but muscular rather than juvenile. There may well be further nuances of meaning of which we are not aware. I keep an open mind. But, on balance, youth on the cusp of manhood (late teens) would seem the most likely. In this scenario, the main protagonists of the bull sports are initiates, fully grown hence able to participate in dangerous sports and ready to join the society of men. Visually, this liminal state of initiation is expressed by their white skin, red being the mark of mature and initiated manhood. Colours on their own have significance, but it is the relative differences in colour that are the crucial determiners of meaning. The contrasts of dark red versus light yellow or white skin that we encounter in ancient art have more resonance than has usually been accounted for. Rather than a simple binary distinction between genders or ethnic groups, colour contrast marks social differentiation of various kinds. Ultimately, contrast versus sameness signals the relationship between ‘them’ and ‘us’. In art, as in life, the body is read, and the varied symbolic use of colour contrast renders skin redolent of meaning. Lyvia MORGAN

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Pl. XVa

Pl. XVb

Pl. XVIa-b

Pl. XVIc

Taureador Panel, Knossos. MARINATOS and PALYVOU (supra n. 47), fig. 104. Reconstruction: Nanno Marinatos and Clairy Palyvou. Computer realization: Clairy Palyvou and Marian NegreteMartinez. Acrobats from the Taureador Panels, Knossos. MARINATOS and PALYVOU (supra n. 47), fig. 118. Reconstructions: Nanno Marinatos and Clairy Palyvou. Computer realization: Clairy Palyvou and Marian Negrete-Martinez. Bull leapers from the Tell el Dabca Bulls Frieze. BIETAK, MARINATOS and PALYVOU ed. (supra n. 48), a: fig. 60A, b: fig. 59 (detail). Reconstructions: Manfred Bietak, Nanno Marinatos and Clairy Palyvou. Computer realization: Clairy Palyvou and Marian Negrete-Martinez. Hunter and dog from the Tell el Dabca Hunt Frieze (detail). MORGAN in press (supra n. 75) fig. 4. Reconstruction: Lyvia Morgan. Computer realization: Marian Negrete-Martinez.




a

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XVI




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D. ART, SEALS AND ICONOGRAPHY

THE PALAIKASTRO MASTER’S RING AND THE GRIFFIN WARRIOR’S COMBAT AGATE: DRAWING CONCLUSIONS8 I.

The Ring Impression

Many years ago, I published an extraordinary ring impression discovered among the Late Minoan IB destruction debris inside Building 5 at Palaikastro, eastern Crete. 1 Despite its unique imagery, publication did not bring the ring fame or favour; in fact, it has rarely been mentioned since. Admittedly, there were problems with the initial publication. The ring, stamped on a clay nodulus,2 had not been pressed evenly into the clay: large parts of the image were uncertain or missing. Our accompanying drawing attempted to convey the unusual movement of the scene, but its unconventionality led to misunderstandings. The excavation photograph, too, was muddy and printed too small. Subsequent publication in the CMS series (CMS VS 1B 341) inexplicably eliminated some details visible on the cast and left empty spaces where lines were uncertain: this made it difficult to grasp the iconography. This paper sets out to reclaim the ring as a masterpiece of Minoan glyptic art.3 It gives me great pleasure to offer this renewed reading to my good friend and colleague, John Younger. He was the first person I turned to when studying this ring impression so many years ago, and he will willy-nilly receive my last words on the subject. Iconography Redux. The Palaikastro Master’s Ring now comes with a high-tech leap into 3D documentation. By means of high resolution 3D modelling of the existing plaster cast (Pl. XVIIa),4 the STARC (Science and Technology in Archaeology and Culture Research Center) laboratories in Nicosia, Cyprus, succeeded in bringing out many lines and fine details that had previously been uncertain or even invisible to the eye [technical description and credits in section II, below]. Although we can never restore 100% of the ring’s imagery, the new drawing by Ans Homs (Pl. XVIIb) presents a much more accurate picture. We can now determine that the massive animal in the foreground is not a stag, as I surmised from ∗

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I am immensely grateful to Jack Davis and Sharon Stocker for supplying images of the recently discovered “Combat Agate” from Pylos and for their generous permission to use them for study and publication. My warmest thanks, too, to Aslihan Yener for permision to reproduce a photograph of the copper-based weapon found in Alalakh in 2007. I owe a great debt as well to the draftswoman, Ans Homs for labouring so long and hard at drawing minuscule details only visible on 3D snapshots; and to Anneke Dekkers who made high-resolution photographs which hinted strongly at yet more to come through new technology. J.A. MACGILLIVRAY, A. SARPAKI, J-P. OLIVIER, J. WEINGARTEN, L.H. SACKETT, J. DRIESSEN, R. BRIDGES and D. SMYTH, “Excavations at Palaikastro, 1988,” BSA 84 (1989) 438-442: Sitia AM 8018 = CMS VS 1B 341. The ring’s original size was at least 2.3 cm long, its height ±1.6 cm. It is larger than the average of gold signets from secure LM I contexts (1.97 x 1.19); rings and ring impressions found on the contemporary mainland are larger on average (2.89 x 1.67 cm): see discussion in N. BECKER, Die goldenen Siegelringe der Ägäischen Bronzezeit (2018) 97. Note: All seals with CMS numbers can be viewed online at https://arachne.uni-koeln.de/drupal/?q=en/node/196#. On noduli (“sealings that do not seal”, i.e. without any form of attachment whatsoever) see J. WEINGARTEN, “Some Unusual Clay Nodules,” Kadmos 25 (1986) 1-21; and J. WEINGARTEN, “Some Unusual Clay Nodules, Addendum,” Kadmos 26 (1987) 38-43. It is never pleasant to confess errors, even with the excuse that, with the technology of the time, it was not possible to clarify certain key points, primarily the species of the hunted animal and the nature of the extraordinary object held in the hunter’s left fist. With new 3D technology, I am now able to correct my 1989 publication and do justice, I hope, to the overlooked quality of the ring. As was the practice of the time, I took a plasticine mould from the nodulus and cast it in dental-plaster, to recreate the impression. The description of the scene follows the impression.

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the apparent ‘tines’, but an agrimi: the position of its head and horns has become clear. The Hunter (or god), standing at a sharp forward tilt, holds a unique asymmetric object in his lifted left hand in what must be a throwing pose (Pl. XVIIIa): the object still has no parallel in Minoan-Mycenaean iconography and does not resemble any known type of weapon.5 The hunter’s hair, ribbons and tassels are extremely well defined while his face is entirely featureless: close inspection does not indicate the slightest trace of eyes, nose, or mouth; rather, such features had almost certainly not been engraved, surely an intentional aniconism. The Animals. A powerfully-built agrimi runs to the left, attacked by two dogs. The sweeping curves of the animal’s characteristic horns are now almost entirely visible: the ‘tines’ (Pl. XVIIIb), which I took to indicate a stag’s horns, turn out to be their irregular tips – a fanciful but not unparalleled invention.6 The animal’s neck is slightly arched, its head down,7 with mouth gaping open; although such long horns belong to the male agrimi, there is no trace of a beard.8 Its forelegs are collapsing in the Minoan pose of imminent death. One dog in flying gallop harries the prey from the front; its head is reversed and nearly touches the agrimi’s snout. A second dog attacks from the rear, its head apparently seen from above; its sharply twisted body may be drawn from the rear, with only the hind legs in profile view.9 The bodies of both dogs are unusually rendered, divided into three segments, each segment turning around the next. At the ring’s far right edge, another segmented object may represent a rocky landscape or an entirely unknown object. Oval rocks are placed along the base of the ring. There is no trace of a ground line. The Hunter (god). Despite the animal activity in the foreground, the viewer’s eye is drawn to the elongated wasp-waisted figure of the young man standing beside the agrimi. He is at the centre of the ring, and the ring-user impressed this part of the ring more carefully so his body is better preserved than other parts of the ring. The man leans forward at an angle of ±30o. The agrimi overlaps his body just below the buttocks: one leg emerges below the animal’s belly; if he is in striding pose, the other leg would be obscured by the animal’s forequarters. His face is featureless, but curls and flowing hair are very finely detailed. Two ribbons(?) rise behind his neck. His naked torso is in frontal profile with strongly-developed pectorals and a clear midsternal line; horizontal abdominal muscles are also indicated. The man wears a belt, codpiece and Minoan kilt. A line projecting from the back of his belt ends in a tripartite floral form, perhaps a tassel.10 His muscular right arm stretches forward: the hand is lost in a break in the clay but 5

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F. BLAKOLMER (“Il Buono, il Brutto, il Cattivo? Character, Symbolism and Hierarchy of Animals and Supernatural Creatures in Minoan and Mycenaean Iconography,” Creta Antica 17 [2016] 106, fig. 7) published an independent version of the ring with the hunter holding a spear: Although this and other details are pressed into service, he considers that “it well reflects how we should imagine a lively agrimihunt in Neopalatial imagery” (Cf. infra n. 12). Cf. ‘tines’ on two agrimi in flying gallop with unnatural irregularities on their horns, especially at the tips, on a ring impression from LM IB Ayia Triada, CMS II6 71; also ‘tines’ on an agrimia on the agate cushion, CMS VI 178. Both seals are placed by J.G. YOUNGER, Bronze Age Aegean Seals in their Middle Period (1993) 175, in his group of Monumental Agrimia with Harsh Shoulders. On possibly intentional mingling of species, see, for example, S.G. SCHMID and N. NEUENFELD, “Von Pferden und Wildziegen. Einige Gedanken zum Sarkophag von Agia Triada (Kreta),” in K. MÜLLER and B. SCHILLER (eds), Von Kreta nach Kuba. Gedenkschrift zu Ehren des Berliner Archäologen Veit Stürmer (2018), regarding the hybridized agrimia drawing a chariot on the west end of the later Ayia Triada sarcophagus. An unusual position for the head of a running animal; cf. a bull on a metal ring impression from LM IB Ayia Triada, CMS II6 46; and CMS II6 40, another ring with a bull-leaping scene from the same site (which looks to end badly for the leaper). See discussion on beardless male agrimia in SCHMID and NEUENFELD (supra n. 6). For a dog’s head seen from above, cf. CMS VII 35b. What appears to be a third animal leg between the agrimi’s hindlegs may an error, a change of mind, or something which is otherwise lost. There might be something similar hanging behind the belt of the male figure in the Master Impression, just above the hip, but it is uncertain and could be merely a fracture in the clay; hence, it is not included

THE PALAIKASTRO MASTER’S RING AND THE GRIFFIN WARRIOR’S COMBAT AGATE 133

surely reaches out to touch the agrimi’s horn. His left arm, bent at the elbow with raised forearm, lifts a two-directional object in his hand. The new 3D photographs show both sides of this object with reasonable clarity (Pl. XVIIIa). The ‘Thunderbolt’. The object is asymmetrical.11 The back part (behind his hand) consists of a tubular, possibly horn-like element, appearing open at the end, flanked by thinner open lines, perhaps fluttering ribbons (two above, four below); the forward part is composed of four touching dots that form a single element ending in a slightly elongated point (Pl. XVIIIa). While the object can no longer be compared to the later archaic thunderbolt, it remains possible that the somewhat zigzag form of the forward element is meant as a symbol of lightning. In any case, the man’s raised and bent arm looks like a throwing gesture (in accord with his forward motion posture) rather than a pose of static display. While the object is still unparalleled in Bronze Age iconography,12 Robert Koehl brought to my attention a possible conceptual connection between our ‘thunderbolt’ and an asymmetrical copper-based shaft-hole object with three spikes recently found at Alalakh (Pl. XXIIb).13 By itself, I doubt that this object would be described as a “shaft-hole ax with three spikes”, for it has no blade, but it is clearly a variant on shaft-hole weapons, a group with a long history in Anatolia; the excavator rightly links it to a shaft-hole axe with four spikes held by the War God on the King’s Gate relief at the Hittite capital, Hattusa.14 In the case of the Palaikastro Master ring impression, the Hunter holds a Minoan unicum. We may wonder if it is a Minoanized variant, somewhat misunderstood (spikes into ‘ribbons’?, for example), of an Anatolian knobbed weapon with spikes, but without other comparanda further speculation is useless. The Scene. There are no close parallels for this scene. The agrimi, powerfully built and muscled, is brought to bay by hounds, yet the man standing beside it does not appear to be a hunter as he has no obvious weapon, nor does he wear a scabbard. Rather, touching the agrimi’s horn with his outstretched hand displays his power over the animal. There can be little doubt that the ring gives us a remarkable picture of an entirely Minoan Master of Animals in the field.15 Compare the following agrimi hunters, without apparent weapons: 1. CMS VI 179, chalcedony cushion seal (MM III-LM I Knossos?): wild goat runs diagonally across field, man holds horn and touches neck while dog chases from below.16 The seal is broken on the right: the heads of both man and goat are lost.

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as part of the original design: E. HALLAGER, The Master Impression. A Clay Sealing from the Greek-Swedish Excavations at Kastelli, Khania (1985) 22. Thus, contra my earlier suggestion, it cannot be compared to the later Greek thunderbolt in its lotiform version (and so, too, falls the comparandum of the symmetrical double ‘bundle of arrows’ in the hands of a 16th c. B.C. Hittite goddess on a hammer-headed haematite seal in the Ashmolean Museum (AN1889.316). BECKER (supra n. 1) 520, n. 1656 opts for a spear (cf. supra n. 5), noting: “[Weingarten] betont jedoch, dass es keine Parallelen zu dem Motiv gäbe”. The ‘thunderbolt’ – with both directions now reasonably clear – remains unique and I remain unapologetic about that. K.A. YENER, “Hittite Metals at the Frontier: A Three-Spiked Battle Ax from Alalakh,” in P.H. BETANCOURT and S.C. FERRENCE (eds), Metallurgy: Understanding How, Learning Why. Studies in Honor of James D. Muhly (2011) 265-272: “What sets this spiked weapon apart from other spiked axes is the rare, hammer-like knob making the spikes the business end of the weapon rather than a flat ax.” (p. 266). However, for the knob as ‘business end’, see a Late Hittite cylinder seal: O. ZOLOTNIKOVA, “The Storm-God with a Battle-Axe on the Early 1st Millennium BC Reliefs from Eastern Anatolia/Northern Syria”, Proceedings 9 ICAANE (Basel 2014) Vol. 1, 295-306, Fig. 4. YENER (supra n. 13) 268; see https://turkisharchaeonews.net/object/kings-gate-hattusa. On a damaged ring impression from the Archives Deposit, Knossos, CMS II8 248, a Master of Animals is holding the leashes of two massive hounds in a rocky landscape(?); the man and two massive leashed hounds are physically reminiscent of the Hunter (god) and the solid body of the agrimi. Note the odd little spikes on the agrimi’s horns (cf. supra n. 6).

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2. CMS II8 235, a virtually identical scene impressed by a hard-stone cushion seal (MM IIIB-LM IA sealing, Knossos Temple Repositories).17 The man’s head is intact but ill-defined except for a possible nose. 3. CMS VI 345, agate amygdaloid (LM II-LM IIIA1? H. Pelagia): man stands over an agrimi, holding one horn; either he “plunges a dagger into the back of its neck” (CMS VI p. 530), or touches it without a weapon [the ‘dagger’ is uncertain as he wears no scabbard.18 The man’s facial features are indicated. 4. CMS I 199, an agate cushion seal (LH IIB-IIIA Asine): man holds salient agrimi by horns and neck; the man’s facial features are indicated. We thus have three comparable scenes on cushion seals (#1, #2, #4) and possibly another on an amygdaloid (#3). The Style of the Hunter (god). In considering the style of the ring, one inevitably focuses on the Hunter at the centre of the action: His sinewy chest, anatomically correct and almost mannerist in style, can best be compared with the ‘Prince’ on the Chieftain Cup from Aghia Triada (MM III-LM IB). The detailed musculature is close to that of the (somewhat stockier) ‘Cowboy’ on the so-called quiet gold cup from Vapheio (LH II). The style of his hair matches that of the boxer without helmet on the Aghia Triada Boxer Rhyton and is similar, again, to that of the above-mentioned ‘Prince’. In glyptic, the Palaikastro male is closely related to the boxer on a ring impression from the Temple Repositories at Knossos (CMS II8 280).19 What now merits further comment is how his upper body is tilting forward at an angle of ±30o. Such a strong forward tilt is exceedingly rare in Minoan glyptic. Rapid forward movement is normally expressed by a bent forward knee and widely spread legs, with the man’s back either relatively straight or even leaning slightly backwards (reculer pour mieux sauter?): e.g., CMS II8 234, man on a boat on a ring impression from the Temple Repositories, Knossos; CMS I 324, Master of Animals on ring impression from Pylos; the victors in battle scenes on ring impressions from Ayia Triada and Zakro, CMS II6 17 and CMS II7 20 respectively; non-glyptic: the warriors on the silver Battle Krater;20 the boxers on the two lower zones of the Boxer Rhyton. However, at least one boxer in the top zone of the rhyton does lean strongly forward, a pose otherwise virtually restricted to warriors in battle scenes – notably the victors on two gold seals from Mycenae (the cushion CMS I 11 from Shaft Grave III, and the “Battle in the Glen” ring CMS I 16 from Shaft Grave IV); the victor on ring impression CMS II6 15 (Ayia Triada); and, from the same ring, CMS II8 279 (Knossos). It is safe to conclude that the pose is a sign not just of vigorous movement but attack. Now, we find a new example of this pose in the magnificent Combat Agate (Pl. XIXa shows the gem’s impression) from the unplundered Late Helladic IIA Griffin’s Warriors tomb at Pylos.21 The hero’s 17

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Numbers 1 and 2 are certainly from the same hand (G. DIONISIO, A.M. JASINK and J. WEINGARTEN, Minoan Cushion Seals: Innovation in Form, Style and Use in Bronze Age Glyptic [2014] 118: Cat. 190 and Cat. S-16); both are assigned by YOUNGER (supra n. 6) 176 to the Dot-Feet: Koukounara Agrimi Hunt group. Another agate cushion seal may have issued from the same workshop a generation or so earlier: CMS VII 35b, agrimi pursued by a dog (no hunter). YOUNGER (supra n. 6) places it “close” to the Koukounara Agrimi Hunt group. The scene is engraved on a rare two-sided cushion, the obverse inscribed with the so-called ‘Arkhanes formula’ in the Hieroglyphic script (CHIC # 205); see DIONISIO, JASINK and WEINGARTEN (in this n.) 54. Remarked by J. BOARDMAN, Greek Gems and Finger Rings (1970) 101, Pl. 85. MACGILLIVRAY et al. (supra n. 1) 441. F. BLAKOLMER, “The Silver Battle Krater from Shaft Grave IV at Mycenae: Evidence of Fighting ‘Heroes’ on Minoan Palace Walls at Knossos?,” in S.P. MORRIS and R. LAFFINEUR (eds), EPOS. Reconsidering Greek Epic and Aegean Bronze Age Archaeology (2007) Pl. LVII. The excavators (S.R. STOCKER and J. L. DAVIS, “The Combat Agate from the Grave of the Griffin Warrior at Pylos,” Hesperia 86 [2017] 600) are surely correct in arguing that the gem was earlier than its

THE PALAIKASTRO MASTER’S RING AND THE GRIFFIN WARRIOR’S COMBAT AGATE 135

upper body tilts forward ±40o on the gem, an angle of attack most similar to that of the victors on the cushion seal from Mycenae and the ring impressions found at both Ayia Triada and Knossos. There was apparently a mental template among the few LM I seal engravers who pictured heroes – with their upper bodies leaning sharply forward at ±30-40o – yet they do not appear to have issued from a single workshop: the refined style of the Combat Agate is quite different from what we see on any other surviving battle scenes.22 The best parallel, perhaps, would have been the ring that left impressions at both Ayia Triada (CMS II6 15) and Knossos (CMS II8 279), but these are too damaged for further analysis. When we compare the hero of the Combat Age to the Hunter (god) on the Palaikastro Master Ring, however, there is not only the similarity of the pose but also the treatment of his sinewy and muscular upper body (Pls XIXa-b; the drawing of the sealstone in Pl. XIXb has been reversed to make the comparison clearer), the handling of hair and ribbons, and a use of space that at times approaches true perspective. Despite the different materials (hard stone vs. metal), I suggest that the two seals were likely to have been made in the same workshop, a palatial workshop that, needless to say, produced luxury goods at the highest level of craftsmanship.23 Aniconicism. Despite the strong stylistic and compositional similarities between the two rings, there is also a most important difference: the face of the hero on the ‘Combat Agate’ is delineated with unusual care, quite in keeping with the excellence of the gem’s engraving; the face of the Hunter (god), on the other hand, is entirely blank – in striking contrast to the fine engraving of his body and appurtenances. What can account for this divergence? That the Hunter (god)’s face is intentionally aniconic, as are faces on a number of other Late Minoan I metal rings (and occasionally on stone seals, too), seems evident.24 But why are these rings aniconic? 25 There are currently three competing viewpoints:

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find context: “The iconography of the seal in sum fits best into times contemporary with the burials of Grave Circle A at Mycenae, as is clear from the many parallels that we have cited from the mainland and Crete for individual elements in the composition.” They judge the gem to be of Minoan origin (599-601). I would add to their discussion that the gem is an amygdaloid, a typically Minoan shape. CMS I 11 is more or less an extract from the same scene but obviously a much inferior work: STOCKER and DAVIS (supra n. 21) 598. Such an overlap would support YOUNGER’s argument in “Aegean Seals of the Late Bronze Age: Masters and Workshops. III. The First Generation Mycenaean Masters,” Kadmos (1984) 46-56, for a unity between some LM I artists working in different media, primarily stone and metal (pace O. KRZYSZKOWSKA, Aegean Seals: An Introduction [2005] 327-329). DIONISIO et al. (supra n. 17) 127-128 (and passim) also identified possible joint workshops producing both cushion seals and gold rings. The workshop would have made the gold cushions and gold rings, as well as other metalwork and jewellery, and surely was located at Knossos (128). Based on distribution and chronology of gold rings on Crete, N. BECKER also places the Minoan gold-ring workshop at Knossos: “The ‘Knossos Effect’: Golden Signets as Visual Markers of Social Dependencies in the Aegean Bronze Age,” Πεπραγμένα ΙB΄Διεθνούς Κρητολογικού Συνεδρίου (Ηράκλειο, 21-25 Σεπτεμβρίου 2016) (2017) 8. I would add the argument that I call the principle of “Rembrandt’s Polish Rider painting”, to wit: if the painting is not by Rembrandt, who among his contemporaries could have painted it (http://www.damforstmuseum. org/ polish_rider.html)? In the neopalatial Aegean, of course, we have no names and know next to nothing about organization of workshops and pupils, but it would not be outlandish to suggest several hands working at related trades within a single palatial workshop. Noses do appear on profile heads in ‘semi-aniconic’ glyptic images (see infra n. 31). The nose might be glyptic shorthand for the whole face, with viewers mentally filling in the rest of the face. People have very strong expectations about faces, as we learn from the hollow mask illusion: shown a hollow face mask lit from behind, people see the concave side of the face as having a nose pointing outwards. In other words, “given a certain bit of face information, the rest of that information will specify a convex, outward-looking face”: A Conversation with Andy Clark, https://www.edge.org/conversation/andy_clark-perception-ascontrolled-hallucination. P. YULE considered the “schematized heads” primarily to be a feature of women in Minoan ring iconography (“Technical Observations on Early Neopalatial Seal-impressions,” Kadmos [1977] 61, n. 23).

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1. Chronological explanations: Ingo Pini argued that it is one of the stylistic traits, albeit a predominent one, of LM I ring engraving.26 2. Religious explanations: For Christine Morris, updating Arthur Evans, it represents the physical experience of ecstatic dance and possession: “The phenomenon of heat rising into the head, the feeling of the head opening or exploding is one of the most commonly reported bodily experiences in descriptions of trance states.”27 Morris and Peatfield explain it as “an artistic device for representing the shift of ‘self’ into an altered state of consciousness.”28 3. Technical explanations: Olga Krzyszkowska argues that aniconic heads result from the techniques of punching and engraving.29 Evangelos Kyriakidis expands the point: “... most of the aniconic faces can be explained in terms of the difficulty of engraving, or to the overall lack of detail in some rings.”30 This paper is not the place to argue in detail against any or all of these opinions, and they may all, of course, be at least partly true. Peter Pavúk, referring to the alpha-male standing above the city on the Master Impression from Chania, thought there might have been a tabu in some sense against picturing the face of such human figures.31 This still seems to me the most obvious track to follow. If correct, we might be able to explain why some figures on the same ring are iconic (or semi-iconic) while others are aniconic. Take, for example the Elataia ring (Pl. XXa), CMS VS2 106.32 The face of the major figure in the centre, dressed in the distinctive hide shirt that certainly has religious connotations, is depicted with a human nose, eye, and chin. The female opposite wears the skirt of the goddess,33 and her hand is raised in the so-called greeting gesture; she is best described as ‘semi-iconic’, with nose and lips roughly indicated. Two males wearing a kilt and codpiece are aniconic.34 These appear to be deliberate distinctions. I suggest that, in this period, aniconicism is a convention for describing or ascribing divinity to a figure, whereas iconic figures are human – distinguishing those who may enact the role of divinities but who are themselves mortal. The ‘semi-iconic’ face could illustrate some social or role distinction within the group of aniconic seals. Compare the newly-discovered large (4.47 x 2.77 cm) Minoan cult ring with five female figures, also from the Tomb of the Griffin Warrior at

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Since by far most cult rings feature women, all current explanations focus on females. I. PINI, “Chronological Problems of Some Late Minoan Signet Rings,” TUAS 8 (1983) 44. C. MORRIS, “The language of gesture in Minoan religion”, in R. LAFFINEUR and R. HÄGG (eds), POTNIA. Deities and Religion in the Aegean Bronze Age (2001) 245. KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 23) 138, n. 63. C. MORRIS and A. PEATFIELD, “Experiencing ritual: Shamanic elements in Minoan religion,” in M. WEDDE (ed.), Celebrations. Anthropological and archaeological approaches to ancient Greek ritual (2006) 44. E. KYRIAKIDIS, “Aniconicity in the Seal Iconography of The Late Minoan I Period,” Kadmos 43 (2004) 162. P. PAVÚK, “The City on the Slope: Some Observations on Two-Dimensional Representations of Architecture in Aegean Art,” in R. ASLAN, S. BLUM, G. KASTL, F. SCHWEIZER and D. THUMM (eds), Meuerschau. Festschrift für Manfred Korfmann (2002) 576. It is often extremely difficult to determine if the face on a ring impression is aniconic or not. Using the categories of KYRIAKIDIS (supra n. 30) 160, LM I rings appear to have three types of head: a) the iconic, b) the semi-aniconic with features, which have some indeterminate details, and c) the completely blank aniconic. PAVÙK (in this n.) takes the face of the figure on the Master Impression as aniconic; KYRIAKIDIS (supra n. 30) places him in the iconic group; whereas I, spotting a nose (cf. supra n. 24), would place him among the ‘semi-iconic heads’. R 5, 339-340. Despite its find context (LH IIIA-C), the ring can be stylistically dated to LM I: BECKER (supra n. 1) 339-340. For a full analysis and discussion of the ‘skirt(s)’ in the neopalatial period, see E.D. STEFANI, Η γυναικεία ενδυμασία στην ανακτορική Κρήτη: Πρόταση ανάγνωσης ενός κώδικα επικοινωνίας (2013) 80-120. This ring weakens the arguments made both by KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 23) and KYRIAKIDIS (supra n. 30) since technical and size restraints would apply equally to all parts of the ring – which is simply not the case. The large (semi-)aniconic gold cult ring ring from the Griffin Warrior’s tomb (infra n. 35) also suggests that the engraving is intentional.

THE PALAIKASTRO MASTER’S RING AND THE GRIFFIN WARRIOR’S COMBAT AGATE 137

Pylos – on which the “head and facial features [of the large central figure] lack any definition, as is also the case for the other four figures”. The drawing, however, suggests that the major figure might well have a nose, as apparently also does the small figure behind her and the opposite woman wearing a pointed cap (who perhaps has an eye as well).35 Judging by the drawing, these heads are indeed undefined rather than strictly aniconic. The problem may be more nuanced than we think. Is aniconicism connected with a religious tabu? Kyriakidis argues that there can be no blanket prohibition on depicting divine faces, since deities with faces seem to appear on frescoes (albeit few on Crete can be securely dated to LM I, let alone LM IA or LM IB).36 Be that as it may, the prohibition might not apply within palaces and villas, where the audience is already restricted, whereas ring impressions could circulate widely and be viewed by people who are not so privileged. In this period, we may be certain that the aniconic phenomenon is connected with Minoan religion. And that would mean, as I have argued above, that the Hunter (god) on the Palaikastro Master ring is indeed a god. II.

Technical postscript: The 3D model of the Ring Impression – Documentation and visual analysis

In order to clarify and aid the interpretation of the ring impression, it was decided to create a high resolution 3D model. This digital representation of the impression, which accurately captures details even in the submillimetre range, can then be used for an enhanced visual exploration that is not possible by other means. Working in the virtual environment, there are no restrictions concerning the scale, the positioning and the light direction, which normally make a visual analysis challenging. Of particular importance is the dynamic nature of the visual exploration, which permits us to find the ideal combination between those three factors (position, scale and light direction) to see a detail, to document it with a static picture, and to measure it if desired. Elements that cannot be seen clearly with the naked eye can be recognized if the resolution of the 3D model is high enough. Unlike with a microscope, one does not get lost in a specific detail, but can easily move from a global to a local view unrestricted by the use of a static light direction that may not be suitable. The copy of the ring impression was 3D documented by means of a structured white light scanner (SmartSCAN by Aicon 3D Systems), particularly suitable for the documentation of small objects with a very high level of detail. The excellent performance of this type of scanner in terms of accuracy was confirmed in comparative studies.37 Due to the small scale of the features to be documented and analysed, a very small Field of View (FOV) lens was selected: an S-60 lens with a maximum FOV of 49 x 40 mm. In combination with the 5megapixel CMOS image sensor of the cameras, this means that the scanner can reach a resolution of 20 microns on the highest settings. To achieve optimal results and to minimize errors introduced by human intervention in post processing, the raw data was exported in the Optocat 2015R2 software, which is one of the components of the scanner, and used in the visualisation with no further modifications and alterations. This resulted in a 3D model of some 1 million vertices with some missing data in the upper part of the 3D model and within the impression in the lower area, causing small holes (shown in red on Pl. XXb) that could not be avoided in the 3D acquisition. No steps were taken to close the holes, either by making another 3D model of the missing parts and laying it on top of the first model, or by algorithms designed

35

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J. DAVIS and S.R. STOCKER, “The Lord of the Gold Rings: The Griffin Warrior of Pylos,” Hesperia 85 (2016) 627-655, fig. 10a. KYRIAKIDIS (supra n. 30) 160-161. The iconic head of the seated lady from Room 14 from Villa A at Ayia Triada, which KYRIAKIDIS (supra n. 30) 160-161 (“most obvious example”) compares to aniconic seated ladies on seals, is entirely restored and thus inadmissible. C. BATHOW, B. BREUCKMANN and R. SCOPIGNO, “Verification and Acceptance Tests for High Definition 3D Surface Scanners,” in The 11th International Symposium on Virtual Reality, Archaeology and Cultural Heritage VAST (2010). DOI: https://doi.org/10.2312/vast/vast10/009-016.

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for closing holes. This was a conscious choice to preserve the integrity of the raw data and to avoid any step that might result in a modification of the surface and compromise results. The resulting 3D model was visually explored in the MeshLab environment, an open source software program designed for the processing and visualisation of 3D data.38 The 3D visualisation tools used were dynamic interactive light rendering, which allows us to modify the angle at which light falls on the surface of a 3D object, and additional algorithms that function as filters enhancing small changes in the curvature and thus the visibility of small features. In particular, the algorithm of “Radiance Scaling” was applied.39 In this shading technique, the reflected intensity of light can be adjusted depending on the curvature of the surface. This means that convexities in the surface reflect more light and thus become more visible: features in relief or ridges in the surface appear brighter (Pl. XXI). The user can also decide to enhance the concavities instead. The level of intensity can be controlled as well through a slider button, and the effect on the visualisation of the 3D model can be observed in real-time. Even the smallest details, such as the head of the animal in the less visible area of the impression and the hair style of the anthropomorphic figure, can be seen clearly in this way (Pl. XXIIa). Judith WEINGARTEN Martina POLIG Sorin HERMON

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P. CIGNONI, M. CALLIERI, M. CORSINI, M. DELLEPIANE, F. GANOVELLI and G. RANZUGLIA, “MeshLab: an Open-Source Mesh Processing Tool,” in V. SCARANO, R. DE CHIARA and U. ERRA (eds), Sixth Eurographics Italian Chapter Conference (2008) 129-136. R. VERGNE, R. PACANOWSKI, P. BARLA, X. GRANIER, and C. SCHLICK, “Radiance Scaling for versatile surface enhancement,” in Proceedings of the 2010 ACM SIGGRAPH symposium on Interactive 3D Graphics and Games (2010). DOI: https://doi.org/10.1145/1730804.1730827.

THE PALAIKASTRO MASTER’S RING AND THE GRIFFIN WARRIOR’S COMBAT AGATE 139 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Pl. XVIIa Pl. XVIIb Pl. XVIIIa Pl. XVIIIb Pl. XIXa Pl. XIXb Pl. XXa Pl. XXb Pl. XXI

Pl. XXIIa

Pl. XXIIb

3D photograph of Palaikastro Master Ring impression using MeshLab 2016.12 (J. Weingarten). Drawing of Palaikastro Master Ring impression after 3D photographs (drawing by A. Hom). Close-up photograph of area near Hunter’s ‘thunderbolt’ using MeshLab 2016.12 (J. Weingarten). Close-up photograph of area near Agrimi’s horns using MeshLab 2016.12 (J. Weingarten). Modern impression of ‘Combat Agate’ (SN18-112) from Griffin Warrior’s Tomb, Pylos (photo by K. Hall and J. Vanderpool; courtesy of The Department of Classics, University of Cincinnati). Reversed composite drawing of ‘Combat Agate’ (SN18-112) from Griffin Warrior’s Tomb, Pylos (drawing by T. Ross; courtesy of The Department of Classics, University of Cincinnati). Gold ring from Elataia Necropolis, Grave 62: CMS VS2 106 (photo courtesy of the CMS, Heidelberg). Modified 3D snapshot using MeshLab 2016.12 (M. Polig). Orthoview of the 3D model of the Palaikastro Master Ring impression, with missing data highlighted in red. Examples of the use of use of dynamic light rendering and filters in the visual exploration of the seal impression, showing the impression in the same position and with the light pointed at it from two different directions, and with and without an enhancing filter. Notice how the visibility of features in the impression changes in each snapshot. Composite picture created from 3D snapshots in MeshLab 2016.12 (M. Polig). Upper left side of the seal impression with an enhancing filter. The downward head of the animal with its horns is visible with the outstretched arm of the anthropomorphic figure, who is depicted with curls and a well-defined upper body. 3D snapshot using MeshLab 2016.12 (M. Polig). Copper-based spiked weapon (AT1889) from Alalakh (photo courtesy of K. Aslihan Yener).

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MINOAN ENGRAVED RINGSTONES AND A UNIQUE POLYONYMOUS SEALSTONE WITH RAMIFICATIONS8 Anyone who has worked on Aegean seals is used to citing works of our prolific friend and honorand. One cannot imagine Aegean seal studies without him. This small offering is a small recompense for the many times his scholarship has contributed to my own work. Among the most admired products of Minoan Crete are the superb engraved gold rings, mostly Neopalatial, from the Burgon Ring in London (CMS VII no. 68), which was the first to arrive in a museum, to the four important rings found in 2015 among the spectacular contents of the grave of the Griffin Warrior at Pylos.1 Gold rings, ranging from the magnificent to the rather second-rate, number so far over 200, and counting impressions made from them more than 300.2 Engraved rings made entirely of stone, by contrast, are known so far from only a small handful,3 e.g. CMS VS 1A nos 197, 198; CMS XIII no. 27 (allegedly found at Mycenae), CMS III2 no. 365 = CollGiam no. 375 and CMS VI2 no. 285 = Kenna no. 308;4 as well as CMS VI2 no. 431 and a ring found by Alexandra Karetsou in 1978 at Siva Pyrgiotissis; 5 an intriguing red steatite ring mentioned by Evans; 6 an untraced rectangular ring (“rechteckiger Siegelring aus Onyx”) from a LM cemetery in Chania;7 and a possible fragmentary ring reported recently from Mallia.8 Between these two categories lies a third, with hoop of metal and bezel of engraved stone. Of these rare hybrid rings only two are complete: one on a bronze ring, the other found lying near a gold ring and found to fit onto the ring perfectly. Ingo Pini in 1984 had begun to recognize stone bezels, beginning with the unequivocal one belonging to a bronze ring from Sphoungaras CMS II3 no. 240 and the round unperforated rock crystal bezel from Priniás CMS II3 no. 164 (nos 3 and 8 in the list below), rehabilitating the known ringstone CMS IV no. 58D (here no. 11), adding CMS VI nos 165 and 254 = Kenna nos 157 and 224 (here nos 2 and 9), mentioning CMS I no. 253 from Vapheio (no. 12, here under false pretences) ∗

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5 6

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It is a pleasure to thank Dr. Alexandra Karetsou for permission to discuss two objects from her excavations of the peak sanctuaries of Mt. Juktas and Kophinas before the publication we are preparing. I am, as so often, grateful to Professor Peter Warren and Dr. Olga Krzykowska for discussions, for information and for their insights. Any errors or misunderstandings are mine, not theirs! The CMS team kindly allows me to reproduce CMS photographs. To Olga Krzyszkowska I owe a great debt of gratitude for help with the illustrations and for allowing me to use photographs taken by herself. J.L. DAVIS and S.R. STOCKER, “The lord of the gold rings: the Griffin Warrior of Pylos,” Hesperia 85 (2016) 637-648. See generally O. KRZYSZKOWSKA, Aegean Seals: An Introduction (2005) 126-131. The 90 or so rings with decoration of other kinds have been beautifully catalogued: I. PINI, Aegean and CyproAegean Non-sphragistic Decorated Gold Finger Rings of the Bronze Age (2010). See M. EFFINGER, Minoischer Schmuck (1996) 10-11 Variante A2. For several on the Mainland see CMS I nos 20, 89, 383, 410. Nos 2, 3 and 7 here appeared in CMS volumes III (2007) and VI (2009) after John Younger wrote about them. He used the earlier catalogues, for which I give the numbers, respectively A. XENAKISAKELLARIOU, Les cachets minoens de la Collection Giamalakis (1958) hereafter CollGiam, and V.E.G. KENNA, Cretan Seals, with a Catalogue of the Minoan Gems in the Ashmolean Museum (1960), hereafter Kenna. H. HUGHES-BROCK, “Echt oder falsch?”, in CMS Beih. 6 (2000) 118-119 figs 10a-c and 11a-c. PM II/2 (1928) 776 with n. 3: a red steatite ring from Candia with a lily “at the feet of the enthroned Goddess”, once in Seager’s collection. I have not been able to locate this. If Evans was remembering correctly, it was an interesting object. U. JANTZEN, “Die spätminoische Nekropole von Kydonia,” in F. MATZ (ed.), Forschungen auf Kreta 1942 (1951) 76 no. L 2024. Motif lion with strange mane, agrimi head above. Mentioned with material salvaged when Chania Museum burnt in 1934, unpacked and catalogued by Jantzen during the Occupation. M. DEVOLDER, “Le Quartier Nu (Malia, Crète). L’occupation néopalatiale,” BCH 136-137 (2012-2013) 36 no. 57, fig. 30.

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and suggesting as a possible bezel an unusually shaped stone from the Kamilari tholos tomb (here no. 10).9 In 1997 Yannis Sakellarakis, prompted by his discovery of a fine chalcedony ringstone in the Kentrike Aithousa of the Idaean Cave (here no. 7), published a fully illustrated treatment of the ringstones known to him, concentrating on their shapes.10 He discusses seven (2, 3, 6, 7, 8, 9, 11) and mistakenly adds an eighth, being carried away by his concentration on the shape.11 Two other oval ringstones (4 and 5) were known to Pini, who regretted that he had forgotten to point them out to Sakellarakis.12 There is a frustrating mention of an unengraved ringstone from Pellane in Laconia (13) and tentative preliminary mention of a recent find at Mallia.13 Some sealings may have been impressed by stone ring bezels, but detection is difficult and uncertain. Finally, a seal from the peak sanctuary on Mt. Juktas which in the preliminary publication had been considered an unfinished piece was recognized by me in 2014 as a ring bezel (1). This stone, well stratified, is probably the earliest and so heads the list, which is arranged in more or less chronological order and is followed by a few Comments. Nos 1, 5, 7 and 10 will appear in CMS II Suppl. 9, the volume for seals which have entered the Herakleion Museum since ca. 1960. The CMS entries on the published seals have been checked against the database on the CMS website for more up-to-date evaluations of material and date. 1. HM 2669. From the peak sanctuary on Mount Juktas, MM IB-II fill below floor of Room III, published by the excavator, Alexandra Karetsou (Pl. XXIIIb).14 Round bezel of very shiny black steatite with convex face. The back is concave, with surface somewhat uneven and ‘lumpy’, and with a groove running across it a little to one side of the centre. The side recedes from front to back. Unperforated. A neatly executed tectonic diagonal lattice pattern covers the whole face. 2. CMS VI1 no. 165 = Kenna no. 157. Noted by Evans at Siteia in 1922.15 Long oval bezel of black stone (probably haematite) with convex face and flat back. The side recedes from front to back. Perforated across the short axis. Tectonic pattern of bars, lines and cross-hatching, classified by Yule and by Younger.16 It seems to have been Paul Yule who first suggested in print that this stone and 6 were ringstones.17 MM II-III. 3. CMS II3 no. 240. Oval bezel of rock crystal from Sphoungaras, pithos cemetery, set in a bronze ring.18 Convex face, flat back. Side appears to recede slightly. Unperforated. The patch of cross-hatching and the fat strokes are characteristic of tectonic motifs but here are uncharacteristically messy. They also appear in the “talismanic” technique described and explained by Onassoglou but since on this stone she could not make

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I. PINI, “Erörterung einzelner Gesichtspunkte,” in CMS II3 xxxi. Y. SAKELLARAKIS, “A Minoan ringstone from the Idaean Cave,” in O. PALAGIA (ed.), Greek Offerings: Essays on Greek Art in Honour of John Boardman (1997) 23-29. He gives a shorter version, with different illustrations of our no. 7, in G. SAKELLARAKIS and E. SAPOUNA-SAKELLARAKI, Το Ιδαίο Άντρο, Ιερό και μαντείο (2013) B’ 205-6 no. 7, fig. 21 on p. 209; Γ’ Pl. 122.99. See infra n. 42. I. PINI in CMS II8,1, Einleitung p. 12 n. 86. K. RIVIÈRE “Étude des sceaux de la période néopalatiale,” BCH 139-140 (2015-2016) 933. Reports six seals ascribed to MM III-LM I: five “serpentine” lentoids and one amygdaloid of material as yet undetermined (“stéatite ou onyx?”) with a stylised cuttlefish, “the only seal which seems to have been perforated to be mounted on a ring rather than as a bead”. This is a very brief preliminary report. The perforation is not described and I should not be surprised if further study reveals a run-of-the-mill carnelian “talismanic”. A. KARETSOU, reports in Ergon 1978, 62-3 fig. 72 and Prakt 1978, 256, Pl. 169β. Full publication in preparation by H. Hughes-Brock. SAKELLARAKIS (supra n. 10) 24 figs. 5-6. SAKELLARAKIS and SAPOUNA-SAKELLARAKI (supra n. 10) 206. P. YULE, Early Cretan Seals. A Study of Chronology (1980) 80, 146. J.G. YOUNGER Bronze Age Aegean Seals in their Middle Phase (ca. 1700-1500 B.C.) (1993) 88, 205, Architectonic miscellaneous. P. YULE, “Technical observations on early neopalatial seal-impressions,” Kadmos 16 (1977) 62 n. 27. E.H. HALL, Excavations in Eastern Crete. Sphoungaras (1912) 68-69 figs 43-44. SAKELLARAKIS (supra n. 10) 2628, figs 13-14.

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them add up to any recognisable motif in her classification (even “Isoliert”) she does not mention it.19 CMS database tentatively calls it tectonic, stylistically MM III-LM I. This was the first ringstone to come to light. For more, see the Comments below. 4. CMS VS 1B no. 331, colour Pl. 1h. In Siteia Museum. From Zakro, a chance find by the phylax in 1984.20 Oval bezel of ‘very pure translucent violet’ amethyst. Convex face. Back almost flat. Side recedes. A groove runs around it, perhaps helping to secure it in the mount. Two perforations, one in each direction. A reworked scarab? A maneless lion running with open mouth in a landscape with rocks in the foreground and plants in the background. The date first suggested by Pini was LB I-II but later he preferred MM III-LM I.21 CMS database now places it in MM II-MM III. 5. HM 1258. From Knossos North Cemetery, found in a Geometric grave, set into an elaborate gold mount of disputed date, BA or Geometric (Pl. XXIIIc).22 Oval bezel of “very pale lilac” rose quartz. Convex face. Back slightly curved. Recumbent wild goat on a groundline attacked from above by a lean lion (or hound?) whose hefty shoulders and triangular head are more like a bull’s (reworked?); the rendering is rather simple. Between its feet is a later perforation through the face made for suspension, the intermediate stage in the eventful history of this object. Betts and Pini saw MM III parallels but thought it possibly little later, ?MM IIILM I. Krzyszkowska now considers it MM II-III and has revised the identification of the material: rose quartz, not amethyst. 6. CMS III1 no. 150 = CollGiam no. 172. Allegedly from Mallia (Pl. XXIIId).23 Oval bezel of pure light bluegrey chalcedony with flat back and receding side. Perforated through the long axis. A goat perched on rocks. Pini judges it fine work of MM III-LM I.24 Younger puts 5 and 6 stylistically in his Group of the Couchant Agrimi.25 7. HM Σ-Κ 3017. From the Central Hall (Κεντρική Αίθουσα) of the Idaean Cave. 26 Oval bezel of chalcedony. Convex face, curved back (like no. 1) and receding side. Perforated across the short axis. A recumbent goat with horns splayed and kid recumbent in front of her, on a groundline. In the background three sprays, simple angular plants; below the groundline similar but less organised lines. MM III-LM I.

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22

23

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A. ONASSOGLOU, Die “talismanischen” Siegel (1985) 171-189. O. KRZYSZKOWSKA, “Amethyst in the Aegean Bronze Age. An archaeological enigma?,” in I. BRADFER-BURDET, B. DETOURNAY and R. LAFFINEUR (eds), Κρης Τεχνίτης. Recueil d’articles en l’honneur de Jean-Claude Poursat, publié à l’occasion des 40 ans de la découverte du Quartier Mu (2005) 122, 125, 127 no. 8, Pl. XXVIc. CMS VS 1B, xlvii Index V B. For Pini’s revised suggestion and her own comments see KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 20) 125 n. 49. R.A. HIGGINS, “The jewellery” in J.N. COLDSTREAM and H.W. CATLING, Knossos North Cemetery. Early Greek Tombs (1996) vol. I 68-69 no. 18.f3, vol. II 540 (includes assessment by Betts and Pini), vol. III fig. 154, vol. IV Pl. 264. See also KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 20) 127 no. 25 but now EAD., “Changing perceptions of the past: the role of antique seals in Minoan Crete,” in E. BORGNA, I. CALOI, F. CARINCI and R. LAFFINEUR (eds), MNHMH/MNEME. Past and Memory in the Aegean Bronze Age (2019) 494 n. 47 Pl. CLXXVIIIc. SAKELLARAKIS (supra n. 10) 25 figs 9-10. SAKELLARAKIS and SAPOUNA-SAKELLARAKI (supra n. 10) 206. I. PINI in CMS III1 introduction, p. 4 “sehr feine Darstellung”; at the entry “Arbeit hervorragender Qualität”; Index V the suggested dating. The index lists no. 511 as “Ringstein” too but as a typographical error: 511 belongs to the following line, “Rollsiegel”. J.G. YOUNGER, “Bronze Age Aegean seals in their middle period (ca. 1725-1550 B.C.),” in R. LAFFINEUR (ed.), Transition. Le monde égéen du Bronze Moyen au Bronze Récent (1989) 57, Pl. XI:47. ID. (supra n. 16) 161-162. SAKELLARAKIS (supra n. 10) 23-29, figs 1-4. SAKELLARAKIS and SAPOUNA-SAKELLARAKI (supra n. 10) B’ 205-6 no. 7, fig. 21; Γ’ Pl. 122.

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Helen HUGHES-BROCK 8. CMS II3 no. 164. Round bezel of rock crystal allegedly from Prinias and allegedly purchased; in HM since ca. 1940.27 Convex face. Back flat. Side recedes. Unperforated. Pini (pp. xxxi, lvii) suggested that it might be a ringstone. Motif is the “talismanic” motif called “Sproß” by Onassoglou because many examples have a plant-like look, the connexion of such vegetable designs with “talismanic” having first been recognised by Kenna for the CMS on CMS VII no. 63.28 MM-LM I. 9. CMS VI2 no. 254 = Kenna no. 224. Allegedly from Speliaria near Avdou Pediados in Lyttos district, said to have been found with the agate ring CMS VI2 no. 285 = Kenna 308, possibly in a burial cave.29 Oval of very light translucent chalcedony. Convex face. Back flat, side receding. Perforation across the short axis. A carefully depicted slender fish (mackerel?) ringed by 12 sprigs of seaweed arranged regularly to form an elegant border. Younger places it stylistically in his Marine Schools, Onassoglou and the CMS database among her “talismanic” fish.30 Pini (p. 51, Index V) suggests LM I for this bezel, LB I-II for the ring. 10. Possible ringstone HM 2169. Truncated pear-shaped (but with broad end at the top) carnelian from the tholos tomb at Kamilari.31 Perforated lengthwise. Its motif, a bird with wings outspread, was classed by Onassoglou as “talismanic” but certain bird motifs of that kind, mostly LM IB when stratified, have now been firmly reassigned to the slightly later Cut Style (LM I-II), an offshoot of “talismanic”, chronologically overlapping while the “talismanic” is fading out and then continuing into LM II.32 Context not after LM I. 11. CMS IV no. 58D (allegedly from) Tourtouloi near Praisos.33 Long oval of rock crystal which fits into a gold mount said to have been found nearby. Convex face. Back flat. Side recedes. Unperforated. A standing griffin with wing which seems to be have been misengraved; before it a rectangular linear pattern which looks as though intended to represent something, perhaps a structure – a shrine, according to the CMS editors Sakellarakis and Kenna, who placed the stone with their dubitanda. Pini, however, judged it genuine, and Younger by implication followed him, first listing it among miscellaneous hard stone seals in his Dot-Eye Group, later in his revised Dot-Feet Group.34 LB I-LB II(?) on the CMS database.35 12. CMS I no. 253 is a misfit here. Oval bezel with two rivet holes across the centre for attachment to “copper” hoop, from cist in the Vapheio tholos tomb. This is not a stone bezel. CMS I calls it “steatite” but in the photograph it looks more like metal – because it is. Pini questioned the material and noted the uncommon rivet fastening.36 The correct information is now on the CMS database: bronze and silver. Context LH IIA. 13. A ghost from Pellane in Laconia reported by the excavator as a δακτυλιόλιθος ἐκ σκληροῦ λίθου ἄνευ γλυφῆς (unengraved ringstone) found with beads of various kinds but not included in Pini’s Liste verschollener bzw. nicht auffindbarer Siegel in Sparta Museum.37 The photograph is useless, but one object in it looks as

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33 34

35 36 37

SAKELLARAKIS (supra n. 10) 28, figs 17-18. ONASSOGLOU (supra n. 19) 36-37, 225 SP-33, Pl. XV:33. SAKELLARAKIS (supra n. 10) 25, figs 7-8. YOUNGER (supra n. 16) 31, 125, 169, Pl. 52. ONASSOGLOU (supra n. 19) FI-51. D. LEVI, “La tomba a tholos di Kamilari presso a Festòs,” ASAtene N.S. 23-24 (1961-1962) 98, figs 125:17, 143. E. FIANDRA, “Change and continuity in the MM: the tomb of Kamilari,” in CMS Beih. 5 (1995) 8283, fig. 8a. ONASSOGLOU (supra n. 19) 270 no. 20, Pl. L:20. On “talismanic” and Cut Style see I. PINI, “Der Cut Style in der spätbronzezeitlichen ägäischen Glyptik,” in T. MATTERN and D. KOROL (eds), Munus. Festschrift für Hans Wiegartz (2000) esp. 211-215; succinctly KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 1) 248-250, and now her thorough study and reappraisal O. KRZYSZKOWSKA, “On the wings of birds: some reflections on the Cut Style in Minoan glyptic,” in J.M.A. MURPHY and J. MORRISON (eds), Kleronomia. Legacy and Inheritance. Studies on the Aegean Bronze Age in Honor of Jeffrey S. Soles (forthcoming 2019) where this seal listed in Appendix. SAKELLARAKIS (supra n. 10) 26-28, figs 15-16. PINI (supra n. 9). J.G. YOUNGER, “Aegean seals of the Bronze Age: stylistic groups IV,” Kadmos 24 (1985) 73. YOUNGER (supra n. 16) 176, Pl. 85. For the history of CMS policy in such cases see H. HUGHESBROCK, “The many facets of seal research and the contribution of the CMS,” in W. MÜLLER (ed.), Die Bedeutung der minoischen und mykenischen Glyptik (2010) 231-232. https://arachne.uni-koeln.de. Published online in 2011. PINI (supra n. 9) n. 53. Th. KARACHALIOS, “Θολωτὸς τάφος ἐν Καλυβίοις (Πελλάνης),” ArchDelt 10 parartema (1926) 43. I. PINI

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though it might be a showy banded agate lentoid. Dr. Diamantis Panagiotopoulos and Dr. Maria Anastasiadou, kindly replying to my enquiry, affirm that the CMS has no record of it at all. We shall never know what made the excavator think it was a ringstone.

Comments Oval shape, longer or fatter, is predominant and characteristic of ring faces, whether of whole gold rings or of separate stone bezels, and it is a giveaway, but not an infallible one. We cannot always know for sure whether an oval stone really was on a ring nor, in the case of a sealing, whether the impression came from a bezel or a whole stone ring. There are entries for “Ringschild”, and “Siegel mit …. ovaler …. Siegelfläche” in the indices to CMS II6, II7 and II8 and CMS VS 3 (respectively Hagia Triada and elsewhere, Zakro, Knossos, Akrotiri), e.g. CMS II6 no. 72, a fine depiction of a pair of wild boar, described with confidence as a ringstone of soft stone, although the surviving ringstones are mostly hard.38 The eye for identifying the material which made a seal impression has developed over the years since Pini made the first attempts with sealings from Phaistos in CMS II5 (1970).39 Only two ringstones here, nos 1 and 9, are round. Our early no. 1 comes from the time when the introduction of the tubular drill encouraged round faces, and they abound among Protopalatial seals.40 Oval faces existed alongside them, like no. 2, the closest to 1. That is a rather long oval and many contemporaries are long-faced prisms. No. 3 is a short fat oval, as though sitting on the fence. On metal rings round faces are known, as on the Burgon Ring mentioned above, but they seem to be fading out by LM IA, after which ovals are de rigueur.41 The round 8, on the other hand, belongs to the “talismanic” group, in which long-faced amygdaloids are in the majority but we are moving into the period when stone shapes are dominated by round lentoids. It was the oval face that was Sakellarakis’ principal interest and its role as giveaway is what prompted him to include an oval piece which cannot be a ringstone, CMS II4 no. 127 from Mavrospelio T. XVIIB.42 Most oval bezels are perforated through the short axis (6 is an exception) and thus sit at right angles to the hoop, a speciality of Aegean rings. Five of our stones (1, 3, 5, 8, 11) have no perforation at all (the suspension-hole in 5 was made later). No. 4 has two, one each way, and also has a groove running all round, which might help attachment to the mounting and may reflect an earlier life as a scarab. The CMS catalogue entry calls it “Diskoid” but it is more a short fat oval. Another, unusual, amethyst scarab is part of the repatriated Aïdonia Treasure from the Argolid, engraved on the face and with Cretan Cut Style

38

39 40 41 42

in CMS V1 xliii. Another ghost is on the list, a “seal” of amber, all but unique but probably just a bead. For more on and “around” its motif see H. HUGHES-BROCK, “Two cushions, a Bes, a boar and a bead: new ‘discoveries’ in the Aegean collection at the Ashmolean,” in N. SEKUNDA (ed.), Festschrift for Michael Vickers (title undecided, forthcoming). See KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 1) 342-343. KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 1) 83. See KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 1) 127-128 with illustration of the three most important examples. SAKELLARAKIS (supra n. 10) 25-26, figs 11-12. He gives it the concave back of a ringstone. Its oval face is indeed a characteristic of ringstones but for an ordinary seal is so anomalous that CMS II4 called it “ellipsoidales Amygdaloid” in the catalogue and put it with amygdaloids in the index of shapes but with lentoids on the table of profiles. Both that table and his photograph (fig. 11) show an ordinary convex back. The material is a reddish soft stone, one of a number of jaspery-looking reddish stones which have yet to be firmly identified – another anomaly, since almost all ringstones are of hard stone: v. infra n. 44. He also mentions (p. 26), but not as a ringstone, a handsome agate CMS VI2 no. 426 = Kenna 296, which Kenna calls “elliptical with grooved back.” Sakellarakis knew that piece only from Kenna’s description. In fact the back features the natural marking long exploited farther East to create an ‘eye’ on an agate bead, as e.g. R. MAXWELL-HYSLOP, Western Asiatic Jewellery c. 3000-612 B.C. (1971) Pls 49, 55. It was probably as such a bead that this stone arrived in Crete (cf. CMS I no. 239; on no. 252 the engraver aligned a rectangular “eye” with the torso of the bull). The careful contouring of the back around the eye is certainly Minoan. Pini’s suggested date for the engraving is LB II-IIIA1: see I. PINI in CMS VI1 51, Index V.

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work, exceptionally, on the sides (CMS VS 3,2 no. 245). The first transformed scarab to come to light in Crete is CMS VI1 no. 142 = Kenna no. 126, found in the Dictaean Cave at Psychro in 1897, Middle Kingdom with MM II-III tubular drill work.43 The shape of 2 was called an “elliptical bead” and “uncommon” by Kenna and then “bead” of “unique shape” by Boardman.44 This seems a little odd, since both knew no. 9. That their shapes as ringstones could not go unrecognised nowadays is a gratifying demonstration of how far seal studies have progressed. No. 10 from the Kamilari tomb is unique. Levi calls it “sigillo ellissoidale”, Onassoglou “ein birnenförmiges Plättchen”. Levi’s photograph shows the shape but his drawing barely attempts to. Onassoglou would compare this with the “ladle” shape of which more below but it is not close and it has a lengthwise perforation, not the characteristic one across the “shoulders”.45 It looks more like an engraver’s experiment to give the bird’s wings more space than they would have on a lentoid. In a way this is rather a Minoan thing to do. They took care about how they used the space on a seal. Of our eleven ringstones only no. 1 is of soft stone, a handsome shiny black local steatite, one might say elegant. No. 2 is also tectonic and black, but probably of hard haematite, which does occur in Western Crete, but was that known to Minoans? It was much used in glyptic farther East so it might also have arrived in Crete alongside agate and carnelian. Study continues.46 (The red soft material of the stone from Mavrospelio mentioned above [n. 42] is also under study).47 Only these two are dark-coloured. The clear rock crystal of 3, 8 and 11 came from Cretan sources, likewise the rose quartz of 5, which was hitherto thought to be amethyst. The amethyst of 4 probably came from Egyptian sources.48 The chalcedony of 6 and 7 still leaves questions to be answered. Carnelian, such a favourite, is represented only by 10, a piece which is not a deep red. Once again, is this just chance, or conceivably for ring bezels there really was a preference for light-coloured faces? The motifs on these ringstones are all either abstract (1, 2, 3) or drawn from the animal or vegetable world. Humans, at their best on the metal rings, appear now and then on ordinary seals, but “surprisingly” are rare on hard-stone seals, so it may not be chance that none has been found so far on a stone bezel.49 Goats account for no fewer than three of our dozen objects (5, 6, 7), including the particularly fine goat on 6 and the appealing goat with her kid on 7. Goats are a common enough motif but this seems a very high proportion. Again, is it just chance? On 5 and 7 the goat lies on a groundline. There is a good (not unique) parallel for a goat recumbent on a groundline in CMS II3 no. 340, where the goat has the impressive horns of an agrimi but the groundline looks rather incongruously like a pavement.50 On 7 the plants above the goat’s body are clearly beyond her (the base of two of them being obscured by her hindquarters). Those below the groundline should be thought of, then, as in the foreground, between us and the ground the animals are lying on.

43

44

45 46

47

48 49

50

See also KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 20) 127-128 and H. HUGHES-BROCK, CMS VI1, introduction 15, 27. KENNA (supra n. 4) at no. 157. J. BOARDMAN, Greek Gems and Finger Rings: Early Bronze Age to Late Classical (1970; 2nd ed. 2001) 91, col. Pl. 39:5. ONASSOGLOU (supra n. 19) 148. O. KRZYSZKOWSKA, “Material matters: some challenges past, present and future for Aegean glyptic,” in in MÜLLER ed. (supra n. 34) 253-254. W. MÜLLER, “Concepts of value in the Aegean Bronze Age: some remarks on the use of precious materials for seals and finger rings,” in M.-L. NOSCH and R. LAFFINEUR (eds), Kosmos. Jewellery, Adornment and Textiles in the Aegean Bronze Age (2012) 645. See O. KRZYSZKOWSKA, “Materials, motifs and mobility in Minoan glyptic,” Πεπραγμένα ΙB΄Διεθνούς Κρητολογικού Συνεδρίου (Ηράκλειο, 21-25 Σεπτεμβρίου 2016) A’ (2016) 8-14. See KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 20) 120-121. O. KRZYSZKOWSKA, “Worn to impress? Symbol and status in Aegean glyptic,” in NOSCH and LAFFINEUR eds (supra n. 46) 41. This seal appears among the informative new colour photographs KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 46) Pl. 2g.

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Lions appear on 4 and 5(?) and the Vapheio metal bezel 12. Curiously, none is entirely straightforward. On 4 we see the forepart of a lion running, mouth open, in a landscape of rocks and plants. This could be the final sprint towards the prey it was stalking. The animal is clearly maneless, so perhaps, unusually, a lioness is intended. On 12 a lion attacks a bull (the motif of four of the 44 in the Vapheio collection, CMS I nos 251-254), but head-on in a rather uncommon composition, and floating in the field are a whole palm tree complete with the suckers at its base as well as a separate palm crown — fillers rather than landscape. Here too if there is a mane it is not very clear. Poor condition and the two rivet-holes do not help, of course. Engravers sometimes indicated a lioness by putting teats on a maned lion. In the real world it is the lionesses who do most of the everyday hunting, usually in a small group. Minoans never saw that (and if they did, how to fit it onto a little seal?). The males work on large animals such as cattle and make a more impressive scene. Marijke Ballintijn’s study asks questions, and answers some helpfully.51 On 5 the attacker is an animal whose lean torso has been taken for a lion’s but looks like a hound’s too. A hound attacking a goat has good parallels.52 Its hefty shoulders and triangular head are curiously reminiscent of a bull’s. This animal may have been reworked. Its victim is carefully depicted with well modelled body and tiny beard. The slender fish on 9 is carefully depicted too. Gill would suggest a mackerel, Onassoglou a herring.53 The “border clumps” of seaweed around it enter into Krzyszkowska’s new reappraisal of “talismanic” and Cut Style.54 The engraving of 11 is not of the best, perhaps a little surprising on a gold ring. The stiff griffin seems to be just standing around, not involved in some activity or relationship as they very often are, so the “structure” before it must be intended to convey something – but what?55 The bird on 10 leads us to a unique seal and that seal will lead us to beads. Before that, however, some remarks about 3. This was the first ringstone from an excavation. It came to light in 1910 at Sphoungaras in a cemetery of pithos burials where the pottery dates to MM IIILM I.56 It was found in a pithos together with a lead ring (of which more below). Except for a badly preserved serpentine cushion (CMS II4 no. 205) all the other stones from the pithos burials are unexceptional “talismanic” pieces and are included in Onassoglou’s thorough survey.57 It was in fact these very seals that started Evans on the path to his “talismanic” theories which led past Kenna, Schiering, Boardman, Papapostolou and Betts with many twists and turns of interpretation and terminology, leading at last to Onassoglou’s badly needed systematic approach and definition. That was not the last word, for the sorting out of “talismanic” and Cut Style was still to come.58 The copy of Edith Hall’s Sphoungaras which I have used in the Sackler Library at Oxford belonged to Sir Arthur Evans. In the margin at the drawing of our ring (p. 69, fig. 43B) is a pencilled note “enlarge 1½ diam” in Evans’s handwriting. The figure is clearly captioned “bronze” but when Evans came to reproduce it in The Palace of Minos he captioned our bronze ring “gold”.59 Having gold rings uppermost in 51

52 53

54 55 56 57 58

59

M. BALLINTIJN, “Lions depicted on Aegean seals – how realistic are they?,” in CMS Beiheft 5 (1995) esp. 26, 29, 30. Cf I. PINI, “Das Motiv des Löwenüberfalls in der spätminoischen und mykenischen Glyptik,” in P. DARCQUE and J.-Cl. POURSAT (eds), L’iconographie minoenne. Actes de la Table Ronde d’Athènes (21-22 avril 1983) (1985) esp. fig. 2 (three lionesses at work), p. 157 on the “eigenartige Darstellung” of our no. 12, fig. 7 (frontal attack on a zebra). PINI (supra n. 51) 154. HUGHES-BROCK (supra n. 5) 120. See M.A.V. GILL, “Some observations on representations of marine animals in Minoan art, and their identification,” in DARCQUE and POURSAT eds (supra n. 51) 71, fig. 10. ONASSOGLOU (supra n. 19) 158 FI-51, Pl. LVIII-51. KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 32) 5, 9. See PINI in CMS II4 lvi-lviii. HALL (supra n. 18) 69-70, fig. 45A. ONASSOGLOU (supra n. 19) includes CMS II3 nos 241-249. PM I 672-675. PM IV 446-450, 541-542. ONASSOGLOU (supra n. 19) 1-11. KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 32). PM IV 511, fig. 455. Similar marginal notes were used for the seals now CMS II1 no. 469 and CMS II3 no. 242.

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his mind, he neglected to take it in that this ring was different. The Sphoungaras cemetery was a rather unpretentious one. The 150 pithoi and one larnax yielded no gold (an EM deposit did, a little). The cushion and the nine “talismanic” stones were nothing very special, as one might say, nor are the beads of bronze, steatite and blue “porcelain” (meaning faience or possibly glass), which are mentioned without details. More noteworthy are two small bronze rings with plain round bezels.60 Our ring and the lead seal ring found with it in the pithos were both rarities and they presumably belonged to the same individual. One wonders who this person was. The lead ring was made in one piece with a round bezel bearing a frontal female figure with arms raised (CMS II3 239).61 Alexiou in his classic study argued that the style was clearly MM I-II and the ring thus probably an “antique”. What may be the profile view of this gesture does indeed occur in MM II, with the female figure accompanied by Hieroglyphic signs, e.g. on CMS VI1 no. 92a = Kenna no. 167a and on a striking prism (“magnificent” is Krzyszkowska’s word) from House Tomb 2 at Petras, MM IIB.62 Two such figures, frontal, also appear on the two unique and puzzling stone moulds found by chance in 1899 near Palaikastro. Usually considered LM III, they have recently been reconsidered independently by a Cretan and a Dutch scholar, who both argue for MM II-III.63 Perhaps Alexiou was right in thinking the lead ring an “antique”, though in this case the object may even have been a genuine “heirloom” passed down deliberately.64 Could it point to someone with a cult connexion? And it if does, had the later individual buried with our stone bezel inherited it from a predecessor or predecessors as the holder of some cult position? There is much discussion and speculation about the perceived social and economic value of Aegean seals based on the sources and appearance of stones, the motifs, the findplaces, the owners, the users.65 Nicolas Zenzen makes an interesting attempt at “recreating” the owner of a LM I lentoid (of rose quartz like our 5) with the intriguing motif apparently of a lion attacking a griffin rather than the other way round (CMS VS 32 no. 480).66 This was found at Miletus with Minoan material. Zenzen’s interpretation of a high-ranking Minoan far from home, choosing a motif that meant something in his circumstances, is, he admits, “zu großen Teilen spekulativ”, and perhaps he goes too far, but it was not a waste of time. The unique seal that leads us to beads is the fine amethyst in Oxford CMS VI2 no. 273=Kenna no. 187. It is the first recorded object of its shape and is still unique among seals.67 The engraved motif is a bird with spread wings, not unlike that on the oddly shaped seal 10 from Kamilari. J.-P. Ruuskanen sees a passerine on 10 and on the Oxford stone a passerine or raptor (bird of prey).68 Ornithological exactitude

60

61 62

63

64 65 66

67

68

HALL (supra n. 18) 67-68, fig. 43A. Lead seals and rings are not numerous and most are later. They probably had gold coverings to make the image sharp enough for sealing use. See I. PINI, CMS VS 1B introduction p. xxi. Cf. EFFINGER (supra n. 3) 9-10, 16. KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 1) 246 with references to chs. 3 and 6. They have not survived well in the Aegean. S. ALEXIOU, “Η μινωϊκὴ θεὰ μεθ᾽ ὑψωμένων χειρῶν,” KretChron 12 (1958) 224-225, 238, 250 Pl. IA´no. 6. KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 46) colour Pl. 2a. KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 22) 489, Pl. CLXXVa. For some more of these figures, perhaps the Potnia, see KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 49) 745, Pl. CLXXVId–e. S. XANTHOUDIDES, “Μήτραι ἀρχαίαι ἐκ Σητείας Κρήτης,” AEph 1900, 25-50. J. VELSINK, “Two Minoan moulds for small cult objects reconsidered,” BABesch 91 (2016) 17-27. M. TSIKRITSIS et al., “A Minoan eclipse calculator,” Mediterranean Archaeology and Archaeometry 13/1 (2013) 265-275 (open access journal). On seals found out of their time and what to call them see KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 22). See e.g. MÜLLER (supra n. 46), KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 49). N. ZENZEN, “Der Greiftötende Löwe: ein Siegel aus Milet”, in D. PANAGIOTOPOULOS, I. KAISER and O KOUKA (eds), Ein Minoer im Exil. Festschrift für Wolf-Dietrich Niemeier (2015) 400-402 (“Ein Siegelbild mit individuellem Gehalt?”). See colour photograph in H. HUGHES-BROCK, “Seals of Bronze Age Greece,” in Y. GALANAKIS (ed.), The Aegean World. A Companion Guide to the Cycladic, Minoan, and Mycenaean Collections in the Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford (2013) 163 fig. 351. J.-P. RUUSKANEN, Birds on Aegean Bronze Age Seals. A Study of Representation (1992) on Kamilari ringstone 10 (no. B4a.1) and CMS VI2 no. 273 = Kenna no. 187 (no. B4b.15) 23-25, 43, 46, 50, 56-57, Pls 8, 10.

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would be too much to expect. He calls our seal a pendant. Stylistically Onassoglou treats it as “talismanic” but now it sits happily with Cut Style (see the entry for 10 in our earlier list).69 Arthur Evans bought it in Herakleion on the 16th of March 1894, the day after his very first arrival in Crete. With it he bought the celebrated “Epiphany” ring (CMS VI2 no. 281 = Kenna no. 250) and one of the handful of long amygdaloids depicting men wearing a distinctive long zigzag robe who are commonly thought to be priests (CMS VI2 no. 318 = Kenna no. 293). All allegedly came from Knossos.70 We shall never know whether these three pieces, purchased together, had belonged together originally, but if they had, they might add up to something suggestive about our unique amethyst. More of that anon. Evans published this seal at once in 1894, describing it as “a heart-shaped jewel” on which his greater interest was in the V-shaped filling ornaments beneath the bird, because they seemed to point to the primitive writing he was on the track of.71 Since then no other such seal has come to my knowledge. The shape, it turned out, belongs rather to beads, or rather pendant-beads (since they hang down in a particular direction) and other small ornaments and it is derived from a significant prototype. “Heartshaped” is but the first of the several names which scholars have groped to find for it. The outline is that of the shallow libation vessels and votive miniatures which have been found in numbers on Juktas ever since Evans’s first exploration in 1896 and which he called “ladles”. Warren lists examples of these “heart-shaped vases, usually called ladles” and corrects Persson’s view that they were handleless lamps.72 Müller’s exposition of this identification is to my mind definitive.73 We can discard earlier terms such as “heart,” θυρεόσχημο or θυρεοειδές (shield), Pfeilspitze (arrowhead), blattförmig (leafshaped).74 These were simply convenience terms for the shape. Gery de Pierpont, faced with “a very particular form I could not give a satisfactory name to”, composed a lengthy dry exact description in order to demonstrate why, though unsatisfactory, they were convenient – giving us a light-hearted lesson about terminology. “A sub-triangular jewel with two symmetric slightly convex sides and one third smaller side, distinctly convex in its centre only. Its surface is often swelled out along an axial line (Pl. XXIIIa).”75 It is not a common shape. Effinger, calling them Pfeilspitze (arrowhead), lists 20 examples altogether, noting minor differences of details, but four of them come from Tomb 1 at Poros Herakleiou and seven are from a single batch found at Palaikastro. Altogether she has only eight findplaces and four of those are within the orbit of Knossos, but four more beads, from two sites, do not fit well with the rest.76 To Effinger’s list some more can be added from a few other sites and further information supplementing the publications Effinger used. She missed the context of the carnelian bead from the Palace at Knossos. It came from the area of the drain-head system serving the East Hall, late MM III by Evans’s reckoning.77 The bead from Upper Gypsades Tomb X, alas not closely stratified, is published in 1959 as glass (“paste”) or faience, but nowadays one could tell which and it would have implications, glass being new and more valuable before LM IIIA.78 Her two steatite examples from nearby Mavrospelio are long sharp triangles with incisions on the face, looking conspicuously different from the others, although 69 70

71

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73

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75 76 77 78

ONASSOGLOU (supra n. 19) 139-140, 145-146, 270, Pl. L no. VO-30. A. BROWN with K. BENNETT (eds), Sir Arthur Evans’s Travels in Crete 1894-1899 (2001) 4, 7, 180-181, 400401 nos 4-6. A.J. EVANS, “Primitive pictographs and a Prae-Phoenician script from Crete and the Peloponnese,” JHS 14 (1894) 280, fig. 8. Rather similar scratchy fillers appear above the bird on CMS VI2 no. 272. PM I 622-625. A. KARETSOU, “Ιερὸ κορυφῆς Γιούχτα,” Prakt 1984, 607, fig. 5. P. WARREN, Minoan Stone Vases (1969) 48-49. A.W. PERSSON New Tombs at Dendra near Midea (1942) 106 no. 5, fig. 113:14. W. MÜLLER, Kretische Tongefässe mit Meeresdekor. Entwicklung und Stellung innerhalb der feinen Keramik von Spätminoisch I B auf Kreta (1997) 246-249. I myself did tentatively suggest a connexion with the ladles, but my attempt to describe those as “somewhat like an elongated crab shell” was pretty desperate! See H. HUGHES-BROCK, “Seals and beads: their shapes and materials compared,” in CMS Beiheft 5 (1995) 114. G. de PIERPOINT, “Aegean jewellery; a new approach to a typology,” OpAth 18 (1990) 157-165. EFFINGER (supra n. 3) 47-48, 349. EFFINGER (supra n. 3) 349. PM III, 410. MM III East Hall drain-heads. S. HOOD, G. HUXLEY and N. SANDARS, “A Minoan cemetery on Upper Gypsades,” BSA 53-54 (19581959) 250 no. 6 (“bead or amulet”), fig. 35, Pl. 59a. EFFINGER (supra n. 3) 203 KnG 11a.

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the perforation is placed as on theirs, while the “due pendagli cuoriformi” from Kamilari, of a black stone, are perforated through the top.79 Both also stand apart significantly by being made of soft stone. A rock crystal bead from Gournia appears in Harriet Boyd Hawes’ exemplarily prompt, and for its time meticulous, report; Vasso Fotou now illustrates the page in the excavation records where the “crystal heart” is listed.80 For Archanes, on the gold bead from the larnax in Tholos Tomb A the account published by the excavators in 1991 was filled out by more surrounding information in 1997.81 A bead of bronze was found in the Central Building at Zominthos, associated with beads of agate and cornelian.82 Bronze beads were rare in the Bronze Age, when the material was essential for other purposes, and the find of one at the Kophinas peak sanctuary is thus noteworthy.83 Two more were found at Platanos, and two light turquoise-coloured vitreous beads were found in Xanthoudides’ time and not located when Effinger wrote. These were seen in the 1950s by Hood, and I myself saw and sketched the two vitreous beads in 1964-5. My sketch shows a midrib and I noted the (then) apparently good condition. Xanthoudides did not publish them, because they were not from his excavations but found “not many years ago”.84 Finally the peak sanctuary on Juktas, where Evans found and named the first “ladles”, has yielded more ladles in Karetsou’s excavations, both real and votive miniatures, and also a few small ladleshaped objects such as inlays.85 These ladle beads are relatively few in number and are limited almost exclusively to major Neopalatial contexts and to valued materials such as gold, glass and semi-precious or distinctively marked stones like those composing the notable batch of seven from Palaikastro LM IB. (Their absence from Western Crete is probably an accident of excavation.) Clearly only a small number of people had them, probably important cult personnel of some sort who may have been particularly present around Knossos. Two beads came from the Palace, one of them from the Royal Treasury, the other from the East Hall area, a prestigious quarter.86 The tomb at Poros, yielding four (the earliest with good context, MM III), was well appointed, even more more so Tholos A at Archanes, less so Tomb X on Upper Gypsades but the burial there, thought to be a woman’s, contained a bronze mirror.87 The mirror is of interest, since mirrors are found far more often buried with women and in some cases may indicate a priestess or some similar cult official.88 The unique amethyst seal Evans bought as allegedly from Knossos has a concave back like some beads and may well have been made as a bead but engraved very soon after as a seal. Was the seal-owner someone of this rank, then? And had the “Epiphany” ring and the “priest” seal belonged to this person too? Far away at Palaikastro seven beads of various stones and colours were being kept in a 79 80

81

82 83

84

85

86 87

88

EFFINGER (supra n. 3) Mavrospelio 212 KnM 9b, Pls 6n, 42a: 9,11; Kamilari 194 KaG 3b: 194, Pl. 39a. H.B. HAWES, B.E. WILLIAMS, R.B. SEAGER and E.H. HALL, Gournia, Vasiliki and Other Prehistoric Sites on the Isthmus of Hierapetra, Crete (1908) 55, fig. 35, 3a,b. V. FOTOU, New Light on Gournia: Unknown Documents on the Excavation at Gournia and Other Sites on the Isthmus of Ierapetra by Harriet Ann Boyd (1993) Pl. XLVI no. 1044. J.A. SAKELLARAKIS and E. SAPOUNA-SAKELLARAKI, Αρχάνες/Archanes [Simultaneous Greek and English editions] (1991) 78, Pl. 58. EID., Αρχάνες, Μια Νέα Ματιά στη Μινωική Κρήτη/Archanes, Minoan Crete in a New Light [Simultaneous Greek and English editions] (1997) vol. II, 612, 624, fig. 646. Γ. ΣΑΚΕΛΛΑΡΑΚHΣ, “Ζώμινθος,” Ergon 2009, 71, fig. 72. Unpublished. HM no. K3388. Mentioned here with the kind permission of the excavator, Dr. Alexandra Karetsou. It is a tiny fragment from the top half of the object but with enough of the perforation preserved to reveal its identity. HOOD et al. (supra n. 78) 250 no. X.6. EFFINGER (supra n. 3) 111 n. 764. S. XANTHOUDIDES, The Vaulted Tombs of Mesarà (1924) 88. A. KARETSOU, “Τὸ ἱερὸ κορυφῆς Γιούχτα,” Prakt 1978 257 fig. 16:1. Others will appear in the full publication. Supra n. 77. Respectively P. MUHLY, Μινωικός Λαξευτός Τάφος στον Πόρο Ηρακλείου (Ανασκαφής 1967) (1992); Archanes (supra n. 81); Upper Gypsades (supra n. 78). C. PASCHALIDIS, “Reflections of eternal beauty: the unpublished context of a wealthy female burial from Koukaki, Athens and the occurrence of mirrors in Mycenaean tombs,” in NOSCH and LAFFINEUR eds (supra n. 46) 550, 553-554 on Crete. To the Cretan sites he names one can add the very interesting grave goods in larnax B at Milatos (K. DAVARAS, report on Milatos, ArchDelt 35 B’2 [1980] 522).

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small corner closet probably used for storing valuables, a rather intriguing assembly of pottery and objects.89 Finally, there is a rough limestone object somewhat resembling our beads but with a unique lengthwise perforation, found at Miletus, where cult-related objects were among other finds of Minoan character.90 Was this a makeshift attempt to produce an ersatz ladle bead for a Minoan away from home like the official imagined (see above) by Nicolas Zenzen? The beads may have been something like insignia of an office and not exactly amulets, as Evans saw them.91 They are entirely absent from the Mainland, as far as I am aware. They had some strong and specific meaning in an exclusively Cretan cult, were made of valued materials and belonged to select people of some rank. At Mycenae the unique hand-shaped ladle in Shaft Grave III and the three goldcovered rivet-heads on the handle attachment of the electrum goblet from Shaft Grave IV have histories which one would love to know.92 The cult connexion of the ladles is obvious, but what lies behind the shape? Evans’s “heart” bears no resemblance to the messy shape of the human heart (still less to the valentine shape, his “sacral ivy,” which has a different interpretation.)93 Possibly he had in mind the Egyptian heart amulet, which has a small projection at the top. Andrew Bevan does perceive a similarity to a dissected human heart and suggests that ladles contained small offerings of blood.94 Their close connexion with Juktas leads him to wonder whether ladles found elsewhere might be “promoting a particular Knossian ideology.” Perhaps so, or perhaps their noticeable concentration on Juktas is simply due to its being the major sanctuary serving a large and important local population. The “shield” name was suggested by Western mediaeval shields. The “θυρεόσχημο” and “θυρεοειδές” used by Greek colleagues goes back to θυρεός, the oblong shield shaped like a door in Homer (Od.9.240, 313). In the post-classical era the word was taking over from ἀσπίς as the common term for a shield (e.g. in the Septuagint, 2nd century B.C.). The door shield does rise in a curve at the top (to protect the warrior’s head) like our beads but of course a door is straight at the bottom, and our beads are pointed. Crocus and shells as the inspiration have been effectively ruled out by Walter Müller.95 Most recently Brent Davis likens the shape to hands cupped to hold a liquid, perhaps for ritual handwashing. Could this theory explain the midrib, the convex side or the concave side seen on some specimens? (Which would one call front or back) After examining at length the contexts of the ladles, he speculates as to the use of these and other vessels, creating imaginary scenarios which, though entirely fanciful, are worth reading.96 Holding a liquid in cupped hands for any length of time is difficult and the ladle served instead. A procession of men carefully holding out ladles in their hands on a relief rhyton 89

90

91 92

93

94 95

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L.H. SACKETT, M.R. POPHAM and P.M. WARREN, “Excavations at Palaikastro VI,” BSA 60 (1965) 261, 303 no. 17, fig. 18, colour Pl. at p. 248. They assume that the beads formed a necklace – a very common assumption, justified if beads are found lying around the neck area in a burial but not necessarily warranted by the findspot here. W.-D. NIEMEIER, “Projekt ‘Minoisch-mykenisches bis protogeometrisches Milet’: Zielsetzung und Grabungen auf dem Stadionhügel und am Athena-Tempel 1994/95,” AA (1997) 237-8, fig. 76. For more on the background see ID., “Minoans, Mycenaeans, Hittites and Ionians in western Asia Minor,” in A. VILLING (ed.), The Greeks in the East (2005) 6-10. PM III, 411. G. KARO, Die Schachtgräber von Mykenai (1930) I, 64 no. 164 and 94-95 no. 390; II, Pls XXXIX and CXII–CXIII; cf. N.W. LEINWAND, “A ladle from Shaft Grave III at Mycenae,” AJA 84 (1980) 519-521. H. HUGHES-BROCK, “Mycenaean beads: gender and social contexts,” OJA 14 (1999) 288. EAD., “Animal, vegetable, mineral: some evidence from small objects,” in A. Karetsou (ed.), Κρήτη – Αίγυπτος. Πολιτισμικοί Δεσμοί Τριών Χιλιετιών, Μελέτες (2000) 124. A. BEVAN, Stone Vessels and Values in the Bronze Age Mediterranean (2007) 130-133. MÜLLER (supra n. 73). Cf. HUGHES-BROCK (supra n. 74). Curiously, vessels very like the “ladles” were found at Ur in the Early Dynastic period (ca. 2550-2400) made from Fasciolaria trapezium shells (cut down) and also imitated in silver: see J.M. KENOYER, “The Indus civilization,” in J. ARUZ with R. WALLENFELS (eds), Art of the First Cities. The Third Millennium B.C. from the Mediterranean to the Indus (2003) 401 no. 291 a,b. B. DAVIS, Minoan Stone Vessels with Linear A Inscriptions (2014) 75-87, 112-141, figs 80-81.

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might be a “snapshot” of ladles in action.97 One day, if more inscribed ladles are found and if more Linear A is found and if it is deciphered – all big “if”s – we may understand more about the ladles. But will we ever understand where the beads fit in? Helen HUGHES-BROCK

97

For a review of this rhyton and related vessels see P. WARREN, “A Minoan shrine on Gypsades, Knossos?,” Πεπραγμένα ΙB΄Διεθνούς Κρητολογικού Συνεδρίου (Ηράκλειο, 21-25 Σεπτεμβρίου 2016 (2016) A1.2 88-89 no. 5A, fig. 7.

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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Pl. XXIIIa Pl. XXIIIb Pl. XXIIIc Pl. XXIIId

Ladle bead from Palaikastro batch (after SACKETT et al. [supra n. 89] 301, fig. 18). No. 1. HM 2669 from Juktas Peak Sanctuary Karetsou excavations 1978. Seal face, profile and underside. Images courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg (CMS II Suppl.). No. 5. HM 1258 from Knossos North Cemetery (COLDSTREAM and CATLING [supra n. 22] I 68-69 no. 18.f3). Seal in later gold setting and impression. Photos courtesy of Olga Krzyszkowska. No. 6. HM Giamalakis 3136 (CMS III no. 150). Seal face, profile, underside and impression. Photos courtesy of Olga Krzyszkowska. The copyright for the original seals which are held in the Herakleion Museum and illustrated here rests with Ministry of Culture and Sports Archaeological Receipts Fund.

XXIII




A TRAVELLER THROUGH TIME AND SPACE: THE CUT STYLE SEAL FROM THE MEGARON AT MIDEA8 Whether by fair means or foul, Aegean seals sometimes crossed the seas and reached remote locations, far removed from their original homes. And being made in a wide variety of durable – often highly attractive – materials, they could remain in circulation for lengthy periods of time.1 If lost and later found by chance, perhaps retrieved in clearing out a ruinous building or earlier grave, they could be pressed into service once again, very likely taking on wholly new roles and meanings. Some antique seals were certainly (re-)used as administrative devices; others were seemingly prized chiefly for their appearance and worn as jewellery. Some antiques may have served to conjure up memories of the past, whether real or imagined; some were perhaps valued as amulets or talismans. Others may have dwindled to little more than trinkets or curios, retaining limited symbolic worth. But in truth, only rarely can we begin dimly to perceive the precise role(s) played by antique seals in any given context. And it is virtually impossible to retrieve the complex histories of antique seals that may have travelled far and wide before reaching their final resting place. But we must, at least, attempt to pinpoint their origins in space and time. Excavations conducted by Gisela Walberg on the Lower Terraces of the fortified hill of Midea in the Argolid revealed a large megaron-style building, constructed in the LH IIIB period. A lentoid made of an unusual veined limestone, engraved in the Cut Style, was recovered at the rear end of the building in a surface stratum; although sherd material here was entirely post-Bronze Age, there seems little doubt that the seal should be associated with use of the Megaron in the late Mycenaean period.2 Exactly how and *

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It gives me great pleasure to offer this essay in recognition of John Younger’s contribution to the study of Aegean glyptic in all its many aspects over a period of more than 40 years. The themes covered here reflect those which he himself has addressed in the past: tools and techniques, the use of limestone, and the Cut Style. Acknowledgements: For facilitating study of seals discussed and/or illustrated here, I cordially thank the following institutions and individuals: National Archaeological Museum, Athens; Archaeological Museums of Chania, Herakleion, Nauplia, Rethymnon and Siteia; Ashmolean Museum, Oxford; CMS (Heidelberg); INSTAP East Crete Study Center; M. Anastasiadou; T. Brogan; K. Demakopoulou; N. Dimopoulou; G. Flouda; S. Hood; H. Hughes-Brock; S. Mandalaki; H. Martlew; E. Papadopoulou; G. Rethemiotakis; A. Shapland; J. Soles; M. Tsipopoulou; Y. Tzedakis; E. Tziraki; G. Walberg; P. Warren. For financial support, I thank the Institute for Aegean Prehistory (Philadelphia) and the Institute of Classical Studies (London). Abbreviations: Aegean Seals = O. KRZYSZKOWSKA, Aegean Seals: An Introduction (2005); CMS on-line = available at https://arachne.uni-koeln.de/drupal/?q=en/node/196; Materials = O. KRZYSZKOWSKA, “Materials, motifs and mobility in Minoan glyptic,” Πεπραγμένα ΙB΄Διεθνούς Κρητολογικού Συνεδρίου (Ηράκλειο, 21-25 Σεπτεμβρίου 2016) (2018) 1-17 [published on-line at: https://12iccs.proceedings.gr/en/proceedings/category/38/32/368]; Middle Phase = J.G. YOUNGER, Bronze Age Aegean Seals in their Middle Phase (1993); Stylistic Groups VI = J.G. YOUNGER, “Aegean seals of the Late Bronze Age: stylistic groups VI. Fourteenth-century mainland and later fourteenth-century Cretan workshops”, Kadmos 26 (1987) 44-73; HM = Herakleion Museum (inventory number); MN = Nauplia Museum (inventory number). O. KRZYSZKOWSKA, “Changing perceptions of the past: the role of antique seals in Minoan Crete,” in E. BORGNA, I. CALOI, F.M. CARINCI and R. LAFFINEUR (eds), MNHMH/MNEME. Past and Memory in the Aegean Bronze Age. Proceedings of the 17th International Aegean Conference. University of Udine, Department of Humanities and Cultural Heritage, Ca’ Foscari University of Venice, Department of Humanities, 17-21 April 2018 (2019) 487-496. G. WALBERG, Midea. The Megaron Complex and Shrine Area. Excavations on the Lower Terraces 1994-1997

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when this Cut Style seal (Pl. XXIVa) reached Midea is a matter of speculation, so too the purpose it may have served once there. But material, technique and style provide compelling evidence as to its origin and date. Important clues emerge from an extensive investigation into the use of fine-grained limestone in Aegean glyptic, a material largely overlooked until now. Further insights are provided by recent evidence for the dating and distribution of the Cut Style. Description (Pl. XXIVa) Lentoid, biconvex: string-hole slightly diagonal to vertical axis. Limestone with very fine veining, ranging in colour from warm honey-brown through yellowish-ochre to creamy-white; largely opaque but faintly translucent near the edges. Mohs ca 3.5. Edge near lower string-hole somewhat battered; surface pitted and scratched in places. D. 2.1-2.25, Th. 0.10, D. string-hole 0.25 cm. Motif (description follows impression): a running goat in right profile with bristles on its rump. The neck and body are created by smooth cuts with limited modelling. A solid dot marks the join between neck and near foreleg, another larger dot at the rump; eye and muzzle also indicated by solid dots. The horns are rendered by simple curving lines; legs by straight lines tapering at the ends. A spear or dart forked at the end, set horizontally in the field, is directed toward the animal’s neck. Cut Style. Provenance: Midea, Megaron on the Lower Terraces, back area; removal of modern terrace wall, bottom of surface stratum in Mg/Mh baulk. (Nauplia Museum 31440). Material – technique – style Let us begin, as did all seal engravers, with the question of material and technique. The Midea lentoid is made of a finely-veined stone, described as ‘agate’ in the site report.3 However, agate is a hard semi-precious stone, a member of the silica (SiO2) group, registering Mohs 7,4 whereas the material from which this seal was made is very much softer (Mohs 3.5). The hardness and physical properties are entirely consistent with it being a variety of limestone: the veining is caused by rapid precipitation of calcium carbonate (CaCO2), notably in caves.5 It is now widely recognized that the hardness of stones played a key role in determining the tools and techniques used to fashion seals and other end-products.6 Soft stones, such as steatite, chlorite and calcite (Mohs 2-3), could be readily engraved with hand-held tools, such as knives, burins and slow hand-turned drills. Serpentines are somewhat harder, registering ca Mohs 3-5, though most fall at the lower end of the range; these too were normally hand-engraved, although exceptions do occur. By contrast hard semi-precious stones at Mohs 6-7 required sophisticated technology in the form of the lapidary lathe with attached cutting wheels and drills, charged with abrasives. Powered by a bow, this rotary technology reached Crete during MM II and quite literally revolutionized the

3

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5

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(2007) 9, 14, 179, 308-309, no. I5, Pl. 29 (seen as ‘Mycenaean’). Correctly described as Cut Style in K. DEMAKOPOULOU, N. DIVARI-VALAKOU, P. ÅSTRÖM and G. WALBERG, “Excavations in Midea 1994,” OpAth 21 (1996) 25, fig. 45. The seal does not appear in the CMS, because it was not located in the storerooms when the sealings from the Megaron (CMS VS3 238-240) were being documented. WALBERG (supra n. 2) 179, 308-309, no. I5, Pl. 29. I cordially thank Professor Walberg for permission to study and photograph the seal in 2012, as well as to make the impression shown here in Pl. XXIVa. Agate is a crypto- or microcrystalline quartz: C.A. SORREL and G.F. SANDSTROM, Rocks and Minerals of the World (1977) 54-55 (Mohs scale), 206-211 (silicates); Aegean Seals 81-83. Faintly translucent veined limestones are sometimes termed ‘travertine’, ‘Egyptian (or calcite) alabaster’, or ‘onyx-marble’. The last is especially misleading since the stone is neither onyx (a variety of agate and thus a semi-precious member of the silica group) nor marble (a metamorphic rock). Unfortunately it was adopted by W. MÜLLER in CMS III p. 21 and is used in the CMS on-line (see below). J.H. BETTS, “Seals of Middle Minoan III: chronology and technical revolution,” in W. MÜLLER (ed.), Fragen und Probleme der bronzezeitlichen ägäischen Glyptik (1989) 9-16; Middle Phase xxi-xxiv, 185; Aegean Seals 8385, fig. 5.1 (lapidary lathe); O. KRZYSZKOWSKA, “Minoan seal engraving: an art in miniature,” in S. MANDALAKI (ed.), Δαίδαλος. Στα ίχνη του μυθικού τεχνίτη (2019) 37-46 (including remarks on metals).

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production of Aegean seals for centuries to come. In many cases the often vibrantly-coloured stones themselves – notably agate, amethyst, carnelian, chalcedony, green jasper, and lapis lazuli – were imported too. Haematite, red jasper and rock crystal occur on Crete, but whether their sources were exploited in the Bronze Age is unknown.7 The stark differences in the techniques employed with soft stones (hand tools) and with hard semiprecious stones (fast rotary tools) are now seen as fundamental to our understanding of seal engraving in the Aegean Bronze Age. Hitherto rather less emphasis has been placed on medium hard stones and how these were worked. Beyond obvious issues such as sourcing of materials and workshop practices, materials and techniques have a direct and incontrovertible bearing on glyptic style. In turn, a better grasp of style provides insights into possible production centres and dating. As we shall see, this proves true for the lentoid from the Midea Megaron. The use of fine-grained limestones in Aegean glyptic has not received much attention until recently, one suspects largely owing to cases of misidentification, as applied to the Midea lentoid. However, John Younger is to be commended for recognizing some 40 years ago that several seals, which he attributed to his ‘Island Sanctuaries Group’ of the later 14th century, were made of slightly translucent veined limestone (see below). And in recent years it has become clear that fine-grained limestones are attested in Cretan glyptic from MM II onwards. Some are rose-pink in hue, but others are brick-red, and thus in the past were frequently mistaken for opaque red jasper.8 Although the stones register Mohs 3-4 in hardness, the seals were generally engraved with rotary tools, as was true of contemporary hard stone seals. Recent investigations suggest that structure as much as hardness was a decisive factor. Thus medium hard stones that were fine grained and very compact or dense could be engraved using ‘hard stone techniques’, although choice of tools may have been ultimately down to the preferences and expertise of individual engravers. More than 20 Cretan seals have now been identified (or re-identified) as reddish limestone (Pl. XXVa, right), but other colours are also attested: trace elements evidently account for the variations.9 The use of veined limestones seems very much less frequent, at least on present evidence. Close to the limestone used for the Midea seal in both coloration and structure is a lentoid now in Oxford (Pl. XXIVb, left). This stone is predominantly honey-coloured, with delicate creamy-yellow veining that runs roughly vertically across the face of the seal; it is faintly translucent throughout.10 The linear design on this seal can be readily attributed to the MM II-III ‘architectural’ group, attested in both soft stones (especially chlorite, but also serpentine) and hard semi-precious stones.11 The latter are often virtuoso products, apparently 7

8

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O. KRZYSZKOWSKA, “Material matters: some challenges past, present and future in Aegean glyptic,” in W. MÜLLER (ed.), Die Bedeutung der minoischen und mykenischen Glyptik (2010) 250; Aegean Seals 81-83. Materials 10-14, colour Pls 6-8. For criticisms of the term ‘Pseudojaspis’ used in recent CMS volumes and in the CMS on-line: ibid. 10-11. For limestone in Crete: P. WARREN, Minoan Stone Vases (1969) 124-127, 133-134; the Kakon Oros is a potential source of the reddish variety. In addition to the 14 reddish limestone seals illustrated in Materials colour Pls 6-8, and here Pl. XXVa, right (HM 3264), add CMS II2 24; II4 21; III 451; VS3 388; VI 442; XI 278; and probably X 115 (infra n. 18). Several more will appear in CMS II Suppl. Note also J.G. YOUNGER, in L.V. WATROUS, “Excavations at Gournia, 2010-2012,” Hesperia 84 (2015) 449, fig. 35 no. 4 (‘red-brown limestone’). Described as ‘horned chalcedony’ by V.E.G. KENNA, Cretan Seals (1960) 151, Pl. 19 no. 31P; termed ‘alabaster?’ in CMS VI; re-identified as ‘Onyxmarmor’ in the CMS on-line (supra n. 5). Formerly in Kenna’s possession, it is said to be from the ‘Palestinian coast just south of Gaza’. The ‘provenance’ is dubious, and may at best reflect place of acquisition. For similar ‘provenances’ of seals acquired from the Rev. Greville Chester: O. KRZYSZKOWSKA, “The eye of the beholder: some nineteenth century views of Aegean glyptic,” in W. MÜLLER (ed.), Minoisch-mykenische Glyptik. Stil, Ikonographie, Funktion (2000) 150 n. 3, 162 n. 50. Discoids are the shape par excellence for this group, but amygdaloids, cushions and lentoids (as CMS VI 175) are also represented. For the group generally: I. PINI, “Die ‘Architekturmotive’ in der MM-Glyptik,” in F. LANG, C. REINHOLDT and J. WEILHARTNER (eds), ΣΤΕΦΑΝΟΣ ΑΡΙΣΤΕΙΟΣ. Archäologische Forschungen zwischen Nil und Istros. Festschrift für Stefan Hiller zum 65. Geburtstag (2007) 225-235; Middle Phase 85-89; Aegean Seals 86-87; O. KRZYSZKOWSKA, “CMS IX no. 36,” published on-line February 2015: http://www.uni-

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designed to show off the engravers’ mastery of the new rotary tools. The motifs frequently incorporate very fine diamond patterns with lines set barely 1 mm apart, disposed within a П-shaped element consisting of broad and narrow bands. On soft stone seals of this group, engraved with hand tools, the motifs are necessarily much simpler, often confined to a few broad bands with diagonal hatching in between. The Oxford seal sits somewhere in between. This was undoubtedly wheel-cut, as evidenced by the tapering profiles of the lines, but the design is relatively simple, at least in comparison to the finest pieces produced in semi-precious stones.12 On present evidence CMS VI 175 is the sole example of MM II-III date to be made of a veined limestone. How or why its engraver came to choose the stone cannot be said. But experimentation with a wide variety of stones – some undoubtedly imported, others certainly local – is part and parcel of Cretan glyptic at this time. Seals made of highly unusual materials, sometimes represented by a sole example, sometimes by a mere handful, are to be found scattered throughout the repertoire. If we consider the ‘architectural’ group alone, these rare materials include several kinds of variegated jasper, red serpentine, hornblende diorite, and even Giali obsidian.13 In the case of local Cretan stones, sources may have been stumbled upon by pure chance or engravers may have deliberately ‘prospected’ for attractive or unusual materials. Some outcrops may have been limited in extent or difficult to access, helping to explain why so few extant seals were made from them; rarely are the sources known to us today. In other instances, the materials may not have found much favour with engravers, as evidently applied to Giali obsidian, which is inclined to chip or fracture during production. The preferences – or otherwise – of clientele also very likely influenced the stones selected for engraving. But whatever the reason, no further instances of veined limestone are (currently) known from this period. Like the ‘architectural’ motifs, the MM III-LM I ‘talismanic’ style was first and foremost a technique dependent on the use of rotary technology and hard semi-precious stones.14 Undisguised tool marks are a hallmark of the style, with little or no attempt to produce ‘naturalistic’ forms through modelling, even though the motifs were frequently drawn from the natural world. In addition to cutting wheels, used to create lush foliage, drills – both solid and tubular – were also employed extensively. Indeed drill marks are much in evidence on goats executed in the ‘talismanic’ style, as is true of the carnelian amygdaloid CMS II3 258 from Mochlos (Pl. XXVa, left).15 Here the tubular drill was applied three times to fashion the animal’s chest, belly and rump, while a solid (snub-nosed) drill was used for the eye. Only rarely are there signs that drill marks were smoothed away in an attempt to create more ‘natural’ forms (CMS II3 153; II6 59; III 317).16 Finally a key characteristic of ‘talismanic’ goats is that they are almost

12

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14 15

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heidelberg.de/fakultaeten/philosophie/zaw/cms/monthlySeal/ monthlySealOlder.html (rock crystal discoid with architectural motif). Unpublished examples in the Herakleion Museum will appear in CMS II Suppl., meanwhile: N. DIMOPOULOU and O. KRZYSZKOWSKA, “Seals from the Minoan chamber-tombs at Poros,” AM (forthcoming) S24-25, S30, S32-34. CMS VII 220 made of serpentine (Mohs ca 3-4) is also wheel-cut; the extent to which this applies to other seals bearing ‘architectural’ motifs and said be made of soft to medium hard stone remains to be established. Variegated jaspers include: CMS II2 11, 203; III 122; IV 158?; XII 129. See Materials 4-10, colour Pls 2 (jasper?), 3 (Giali obsidian) and 4-5 (red serpentine). Further examples of Giali obsidian and red serpentine will appear in CMS II Suppl. For hornblende diorite: O. KRZYSZKOWSKA, “Further seals from the cemetery of Petras,” in M. TSIPOPOULOU, Petras, Siteia. The Pre- and Protopalatial Cemetery in Context (2017) 152, fig. 7 (PTSK12.379, material identification made subsequent to this publication). A. ONASSOGLOU, Die “talismanischen” Siegel (1985); Aegean Seals 133-137. The use of red stones for ‘talismanic’ goats is particularly striking. Of 33 published to date in the CMS, 20 are carnelian (including CMS IX 102 and 103 called ‘agate’), one is red jasper (CMS VS3 389) and six or seven are reddish limestone (infra n. 18). In addition two are made from amethyst (CMS II3 153 and VII 170). See below for serpentine. Most goats here regarded as ‘talismanic’ following ONASSOGLOU (supra n. 14) 128-134, Pls XLVII-XLVIII were attributed by Younger (Middle Phase 166-167) to his ‘Kamilari Agrimi Group’. Also on a carnelian amygdaloid from Mochlos: O. KRZYSZKOWSKA “The seals and sealing,” in J.S. SOLES (ed.), Mochlos IVA. Period III. The House of the Metal Merchant and Other Houses in the Neopalatial

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invariably depicted standing with all four legs firmly on the ground, head facing forwards. 17 This conventional pose even applies in the case of amygdaloids (Pl. XXVa, left) and cushions, where arguably the larger field would have allowed the animals to be shown running or in ‘flying gallop’. Since many of the goats in question are speared, vigorous flight from a presumed hunter might seem (to us) more appropriate; evidently not to the engravers. As was true of ‘architectural’ motifs, the ‘talismanic’ style was also sometimes produced in soft and medium hard stones. Recent investigations have established that reddish limestone was used in a handful or so of cases, including HM 3264 (Pl. XXVa, right), from a late LM IA context at Poros.18 All are lentoids. These limestone seals are normally engraved in hard stone technique, i.e. with cutting wheels for straight lines and solid drills for bodies, heads and muzzles of the goats. In just a few cases spears are also embellished with solid dots (CMS II3 259; VS3 354; XI 278), a refinement also seen occasionally in hard stone.19 The goats depicted on these limestone seals also adopt the same static pose displayed by their hard stone counterparts, but vegetal fillers are kept to a minimum, usually just a single ‘border clump’ set beneath the animals’ bellies, as is true of HM 3264 (Pl. XXVa, right). The simplification of motifs, i.e. reduction in the use of cutting wheels and preference for solid rather than tubular drills, undoubtedly lies in the nature of the material itself. Fine-grained these limestones may be, but they simply cannot yield the exceptional detail found on seals of semi-precious stones. Apart from the reddish limestones, several other medium hard materials were used for ‘talismanic’ goats. A lentoid from Kamilari (HM 2163) is made of a very fine-grained and dense dark greyish-brown stone.20 On an unusual serpentine cushion from Mochlos, the standing goat is set on the vertical axis of the seal. Here the stone is fairly compact in structure, allowing cutting wheels and the solid drill to be used with excellent effect.21 By contrast, CMS IV 54D and IX 114, also apparently serpentine, appear to be engraved with hand tools. So far no seals of the ‘talismanic’ style, whether depicting goats or other motifs, have been identified as veined limestone. Why this material was eschewed remains unclear. It may be, as suggested above, that these stones were only used ‘opportunistically’, as and when suitable outcrops were found. Or, just conceivably, engravers found it unsuited to a style that required extensive use of drills. However, in addition to MN 31440 from the Midea Megaron, at least two other seals of the subsequent Cut Style prove to be made of honey-coloured limestone with attractive yellowish and creamy veining. One example comes from a mixed context in House Epsilon at Malia; the other, now in the Giamalakis Collection, sadly has no provenance (Pl. XXIVb, centre; Pl. XXVc, left). The Cut Style was first recognized and named as such by John Boardman, who described its main features in a few sentences, rightly seeing technical links to ‘talismanic gems’, with much reliance on cutting wheels.22 Further observations on the Cut Style, including comments on dating, were later offered

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Settlement Area (forthcoming) IVA.333. J.G. YOUNGER, The Iconography of Late Minoan and Mycenaean Sealstones and Finger Rings (1988) 1, 4, PT 1A (animal standing or walking). On CMS II3 258 and II6 158 the forelegs are slightly splayed forwards. N. DIMOPOULOU, “Seals and scarabs from the Minoan port settlement at Poros-Katsambas,” in W. MÜLLER ed. (supra n. 10) 33, fig. 2, no. 10; to appear in CMS II Suppl. I am most grateful to Nota Dimopoulou for permission to illustrate the seal here in colour (Pl. XXVa, right). Further examples are CMS II3 259, Mochlos; VS3 354, Palaikastro; and IX 101, unknown: see Materials 13-14, colour Pl. 8a-c. Add CMS II4 21, Episkopi; XI 278, ‘Crete’. CMS X 115 of ‘orange-brown steatite’ could well be reddish limestone to judge from the colour photograph in Christie’s Sale Catalogue for the Erlenmeyer Collection of Cretan Seals (1989) 34-35 no. 92. CMS II3 153 and KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 16) IVA.333 (tubular drill on the spear). Likely to be limestone; to appear in CMS II Suppl. (with XRF analyses). Meanwhile: D. LEVI, “La tomba a tholos di Kamilari presso a Festòs,” ASAtene 39-40 (1963) 98, figs 125, 144, no. 18 (inaccurately described as ‘steatite verde scura maculata’); Middle Phase 166-167; E. FIANDRA, “Change and continuity in the MM: the tomb of Kamilari”, in I. PINI and J.-Cl. POURSAT (eds), Sceaux minoens et mycéniens (1995) 82-83, fig. 8c. CMS VS1B 334; KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 16) IVA.331 from a LM IB floor deposit in House C.2. J. BOARDMAN, Greek Gems and Finger Rings (1970) 48, 412, figs 114-115, Pls 143, 146-147.

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by Betts, Younger, and Pini.23 We will return to dating in due course, but first we need to consider material and technique in greater detail. Like its predecessor, the Cut Style is largely but not exclusively linked to hard semi-precious stones, with cutting wheels (and to a much lesser extent drills) applied rapidly to create the motifs; tool marks are often unerased and modelling is limited. Most motifs commonly found in the ‘talismanic’ style (jugs, double axes, sea creatures) and vegetal fillers are wholly abandoned. Instead we find running goats with bristly backs; recumbent lions with shaggy manes; griffins with one or both wings displayed; and birds usually with wings outstretched. With these basics in mind we may now turn to the three Cut Style lentoids now identified as made from veined limestone. The first example comes from a mixed context in House Epsilon at Malia, containing LM I-III sherds with the latter predominating (Pl. XXIVb, centre). Initially it was simply (but accurately) described as a ‘pierre lenticulaire jaunâtre veinée de blanc’.24 In the catalogue entry for CMS II4 168, it appears as ‘Onyx’, although Pini’s notes in the introduction to the volume suggest ‘Alabaster?’.25 In fact, this is a faintly translucent limestone, with very fine somewhat wavy veining, close in coloration to MN 31440 from the Midea Megaron. The motif is a bird with outstretched wings, engraved exclusively with the fast cutting wheel (i.e. without any use of drills). Recent research has established that such birds belong to the Cut Style and not, as previously believed, to the MM III-LM I ‘talismanic’ style.26 Fundamental differences lie in engraving techniques, the poses of birds, and the presence (or absence) of subsidiary ornament. While hard semi-precious stones predominate, some 20% of Cut Style birds occur on lentoids or amygdaloids of soft or medium hard stones.27 The second Cut Style seal made of limestone (CMS III 441) depicts a running goat facing forwards (Pl. XXVc, left). In this case the stone is largely honey-coloured, with paler semi-translucent areas and a creamy-white vein running through it,28 thus differing somewhat from the examples already discussed (Pl. XXIVb left, centre) or, indeed, the lentoid from the Midea Megaron (Pl. XXIVa). Sadly this seal has no known provenance, but a Cretan origin seems assured, inasmuch as it belonged to the collection of the Herakleion physician Stylianos Giamalakis (1899-1962).29 CMS III 441 shows marked changes from the preceding ‘talismanic’ style in the choice of tools and techniques used to create motifs. Instead of drills, now the cutting wheel alone is ordinarily used to fashion the necks, bodies and rumps of goats. Sometimes

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J.H. BETTS, “The seals and sealing,” in M. POPHAM, The Minoan Unexplored Mansion at Knossos (1984) 188-189, Pls 184-185; J.G. YOUNGER, “The sealstones,” in C. RENFREW, The Archaeology of Cult (1985) 281 no. 1, 283-286, Pl. 49 (= CMS VS1B 37). I. PINI, “Der Cut Style in der spätbronzezeitlichen ägäischen Glyptik,” in T. MATTERN (ed.), Munus. Festschrift für Hans Wiegartz (2000) 209-219, Pls 54-55. Summary in Aegean Seals 147, 201-203, 248-250. J. DESHAYES, “Chronique des fouilles en 1951,” BCH (1952) 282-283; J. DESHAYES and A. DESSENNE, Fouilles exécutées à Mallia. Exploration des maisons et quartiers d’habitation II (1959) 141, Pl. LII, 4a (face) and 4b (sketch); H. VAN EFFENTERRE, Le Palais de Mallia et la cité minoenne (1980) II, 572, fig. 849. My sincere thanks go to Maria Anastasiadou for taking a photograph for me, shown here in Pl. XXIVb, centre. CMS II4 p. LXVIII for Pini’s observations. In ONASSOGLOU (supra n. 14) 271-272, Pl. LII, VO-44 the material is given as ‘Onyx’. Termed ‘Onyxmarmor’ in the CMS on-line (supra n. 5). O. KRZYSZKOWSKA, “On the wings of birds: some reflections on the Cut Style in Minoan glyptic,” in J.M.A. MURPHY and J. MORRISON (eds), Kleronomia. Legacy and Inheritance. Studies on the Aegean Bronze Age in Honor of Jeffrey S. Soles (forthcoming). Few of the 91 birds considered ‘talismanic’ by ONASSOGLOU (supra n. 14) 138-154, Pls L-LIV stand up to scrutiny. Crucial evidence is provided by a now-lost prism depicting a Cut Style goat on one face, a bird with outstretched wings on the other: BOARDMAN (supra n. 22) fig. 115; also CMS X 277a-b (lion and bird). KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 26) lists ca 80 Cut Style birds (60 certainly or probably from Crete). Four more will appear in CMS II Suppl., meanwhile: DIMOPOULOU and KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 11) S20-22. Also Rethymnon Museum Σ246 from Maroulas: KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 1) 493, Pl. CLXXVIIIa. Described as ‘chalcédoine’ in A. XÉNAKI-SAKELLARIOU, Les cachets minoens de la collection Giamalakis (1958) 39, Pl. XXIV no. 255. ‘Onyxmarmor’ in CMS III 441 and in the CMS on-line (supra n. 5). CMS III ix, 1-2 for the collection.

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the neck is marked on one or both sides with a contour line, also wheel-cut, as seen here on CMS III 441 and on HM 2507 from the Unexplored Mansion (Pl. XXVb).30 Wheel-cutting is also much in evidence for features such as the goats’ bristly backs and curving horns – those on CMS III 441 being especially long and elegant. Legs are invariably stick-like, usually bent at the knees and hocks.31 There are, however, slight variations in the precise placement of the legs, although typically the far foreleg is raised. Sometimes all four legs are indicated as on CMS III 441 (also here Pl. XXVb: CMS I 143 and VS1B 235). In other cases, perhaps for want of space, the engraver was content to show only two legs, bent sharply beneath the body (Pl. XXVb: HM 2507). Only rarely are joints and hooves dotted, as on HM 2507; indeed use of the solid drill is normally confined to marking the eyes and muzzles of the goats (see below). But in some cases, a few deft strokes of the cutting wheel alone sufficed to create the goats’ heads (Pl. XXVb: CMS VS3 346 and I 143). From the preceding, it should be clear that in technique, style and quality of engraving, the limestone lentoid in the Giamalakis Collection matches those made of hard semi-precious stones, notwithstanding variations in the precise way that bodies and other features are rendered (Pl. XXVb). Thus on the lentoids from Mochlos (CMS VS3 346) and Mycenae (CMS I 143) details are pared back to a minimum, although pose and bristly backs make these goats immediately recognizable as Cut Style. By contrast HM 2507 from the Unexplored Mansion depicts a chunky thick-set creature: the additional drilling merely reinforces its heavy appearance. The drill marks at the chest and rump on the haematite lentoid from Armenoi (CMS VS1B 235) are highly unusual in the Cut Style but, as we shall see, recur on MN 31440 from the Midea Megaron. In truth considerable diversity runs throughout the Cut Style, making it virtually impossible to isolate ‘clusters’ within the extant repertoire that could represent the output of a single workshop, much less a single hand.32 Aside from the Giamalakis lentoid, several more Cut Style seals from Crete that depict goats are made from medium hard stones. These include: CMS II4 152 (Phaistos), made of breccia; CMS III 443, dark grey limestone; as well as CMS III 451 and IV 297 (‘Sokarras’), both probably reddish limestone to judge from published descriptions.33 Especially interesting are two serpentine lentoids, which may be justly dubbed ‘extreme’ Cut Style: CMS VI 263 (‘Crete’) and HM 2112 from House Epsilon at Malia (Pl. XXVc, centre). 34 Both are engraved entirely with rotary tools: cutting wheels and solid drills. Just occasionally the style was also copied in softer materials, cut with hand-held tools, as is true of CMS III 442, made of a rather coarse-grained chlorite (Pl. XXVc, right). Now let us return to the lentoid MN 31440 from the Megaron at Midea (Pl. XXIVa). The goat here can be readily attributed to the Cut Style on the basis of technique, the animal’s bristly back, and the characteristic placement of the forelegs. But the rather straight hind-legs, i.e. not bent beneath the body, fail to conform to expectations. A slight misjudgement on the part of the engraver may account for this, inasmuch as the goat is set rather high in the field. Thus, in order to fill the space, longer legs than usual were cut. A better solution would have been to introduce a single or double ground-line as on CMS III 441, VS3 346 or HM 2507 shown here (Pl. XXVb-c). Also unusual, but not wholly unparalleled, is the use of the solid drill to mark the chest and rump, features that occur on CMS VS1B 235 from Armenoi (Pl. XXVb, right). The size of MN 31440 is noteworthy, but not especially unusual: lentoids with Cut Style goats made of soft to medium hard stones tend to be larger than their hard stone counterparts (Pl. XXVb30

31 32

33 34

To my knowledge YOUNGER (supra n. 23) 284 was the first to point out the occasional use of ‘profile’ (i.e. contour) lines in the Cut Style. For the running pose with legs bent and head forwards: YOUNGER (supra n. 17) 29, fig. 6, PT 5A. PINI (supra n. 23) 217 for lions (CMS VS1B 366 and X 1) and birds (CMS V 604 and VII 151). Add CMS II3 (Tzermiadon?) and V 362 (Medeon). Also two birds with outstretched wings, likely to be from the same workshop, if not the same hand: DIMOPOULOU and KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 11) S20 and CMS VI 272. YOUNGER (supra n. 23) 284 suggested two broad groupings for Cut Style seals, but each includes a wide variety of species, making precise comparisons difficult. Note also the Cut Style deer CMS II4 183 (‘Knossos’) made of red serpentine: Materials 8-9, colour Pl. 5d. PINI (supra n. 23) 217 n. 65. In both cases the serpentine (not ‘schist’ as in CMS VI 263) registers ca Mohs 3.5. HM 2112 will appear in CMS II Suppl., meanwhile: VAN EFFENTERRE (supra n. 24) 576, fig. 859.

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c).35 In all other respects – the elegant curving horns, stick-like legs, bristles on the rump created by wheelcutting or the solid drillings at eye and muzzle – the Midea goat sits well within variations known to have occurred in the Cut Style, whether produced in semi-precious or medium hard stones. As for the material, in coloration this veined limestone is closest to those used for CMS II4 168 and VI 175, though an exact match is hardly to be expected. It seems that limestones were employed only sporadically for ‘naturalistic’ motifs in LM I or in LM II-IIIA glyptic, although this view may change with further research.36 And, as is well known, soft and medium hard stones (whose origins can be identified with some ease) were largely eschewed on the Greek mainland until LH IIIA2 and the inception of the Mainland Popular and Fluorite groups, first defined by John Younger.37 He also rightly drew attention to the use of finely-veined, faintly translucent limestone for certain seals which he attributed to his ‘Island Sanctuaries Group’.38 Examples of this group were also produced in hard semi-precious stones and indeed seemingly represent the latest seals to have been produced with rotary tools in the Aegean, sometime in the later 14th century BC. Since Younger defined the group, several more examples made of similar limestone have come to light, including CMS VS3 235 (here Pl. XXIVb, right) found on the plateau to the north of the West Gate at Midea.39 Here the stone is semi-translucent and creamy white with very delicate wavy veins, completely unlike that used for MN 31440 from the Megaron. Instead CMS VS3 235 seems closely to match Younger’s descriptions of two limestone lentoids from Ayia Irini and another from Phylakopi.40 Moreover, although the seal is very badly battered and the engraving is heavily abraded, the motif on CMS VS3 235 is exceptionally close to CMS V 499 from Ayia Irini. Thus, there is little room for doubt that these four seals reflect the output of a single craftsman, working toward the later part of the 14th century. Crucially, both material and style set them apart from MN 31440 from the Megaron at Midea and indeed from the limestone examples from Crete discussed above. Dating and distribution of the Cut Style When Boardman described the Cut Style in 1970, he placed its production at ‘Mycenaean Knossos (LM II-IIIA.1)’ largely on the strength of a cylinder seal found in New Hospital T. III and seal impressions in the palace; he also believed the style to have been current in mainland Greece.41 This dating seemed to be supported the subsequent discovery of three Cut Style seals in secure LM II contexts in the Unexplored Mansion at Knossos. However, Betts, who published the seals in 1984, suggested that the ‘start of the style and technique may well go back as early as LM IB’, citing several seals from Knossos and impressions 35

36 37

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The old view that lentoids with large diameters were indicative of ‘Mycenaean’ influence or LB II dating is no longer sustainable. Cf. CMS VS1A 186 serpentine, D. 2.9 cm (Nerokourou, MM III-LM I) or HM 3503 chlorite, D. 2.4 cm (Poros, LM IA) for which DIMOPOULOU (supra n. 18) 31, 35, fig. 3 no. 23. Materials 13-14, colour Pl. 8d-g. Add CMS VI 442 and YOUNGER (supra n. 9) 449, fig. 35 no. 4. Stylistic Groups VI 65-73; A. DICKERS, Die spätmykenischen Siegel aus weichem Stein. Untersuchungen zur spätbronzezeitlichen Glyptik auf dem griechischen Festland und in der Ägäis (2001); Aegean Seals 270-275. J.G. YOUNGER, “The Island Sanctuaries Group: date and significance,” in I. PINI (ed.), Studien zur minoischen und helladischen Glyptik (1981) 263-272; IDEM (supra n. 23) 281 no. 2, 286-287, 290-293, Pl. 50a-d (= CMS VS1B 40); Stylistic Groups VI 46-47, 61-63. O. KRZYSZKOWSKA, “The seals and sealings,” in K. DEMAKOPOULOU (ed.), The Mycenaean Acropolis at Midea. Excavations on the Upper and Lower Acropolis 1983-2009 (forthcoming) MN 28139. Also CMS VS3 481 (Miletus, unstratified) and W.-D. NIEMEIER, “Zwei neue Siegel aus dem bronzezeitlichen Schichten des Heiligtums von Abai (Kalapodi),” in MÜLLER ed. (supra n. 7) 280-281, fig. 1. CMS V 499, 500 and VS1B 40; YOUNGER (supra n. 23) 291 and Stylistic Groups VI 63 suggests they were ‘probably carved from a single block of limestone’. Autopsy or at least colour photographs would be needed to confirm how close the stone is to those used for CMS VS3 235 and 481 from Midea and Miletus. BOARDMAN (supra n. 22) 48. The seal is CMS II3 65 (lions, goat and water bird); context LM II or LM II-IIIA1. The sealing CMS II8 182 comes from the Landing on the Grand Staircase and is not closely datable; CMS II8 178-179 and 181 have no find spots.

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from Ayia Triada and Chania.42 In publishing a fine Cut Style seal from Phylakopi, Younger largely followed Boardman’s view that the Cut Style was a LM II-IIIA1 ‘adaptation, under Mycenaean influence, of the similar cut style found among the earlier Talismanic seals’.43 But unlike Boardman, Younger regarded examples found on the mainland to be Cretan-made, the style probably having originated at Knossos. By contrast, an increasing number of new finds outside Crete, led Pini to assert that they could scarcely all be seen as ‘exports’, i.e. that the style was not limited to a single locale, but rather was current throughout the Aegean during LM/LH II.44 In fact, secure LM I or LM IB contexts have yielded a growing number of Cut Style seals, with all principal motifs now represented. Mochlos currently occupies pride of place in terms of quantity and variety. In addition to the goat on CMS VS3 346 (Pl. XXVb, left), there is a chlorite cylinder with goat, lion, griffin and water bird (CMS VS3 347); also a griffin with wings displayed (CMS VS3 349); a running bull (CMS VS3 350); two seals with lions; and a prism bearing a bird with outstretched wings and water birds.45 A LM IB context on the Royal Road at Knossos yielded two Cut Style seals: HM 2092 a cylinder of lapis lazuli with a deer, griffin, water bird and two lions; and HM 2116, a glass lentoid, now badly degraded, depicting a running bull.46 But hints that the Cut Style may go back to LM IA come from a haematite amygdaloid with water birds found on the Acropolis hill at Knossos.47 In one of the chamber tombs at Poros, not used for burials after LM IB, six Cut Style seals came to light: two depicting lions, one with a griffin, and three with birds.48 Two amygdaloids, both bearing Cut Style lions, were used to impress a number of roundels at Chania: CMS V 236 (= VS1A 144, 163) and CMS VS1A 161.49 Likewise at Ayia Triada, just two Cut Style seals are represented among the sealings: one bears a bird with outstretched wings, the other a pair of water birds (CMS II6 115-116). Just 22 examples out of a known repertoire of ca 240 Cut Style seals may seem a fairly modest basis on which to raise the floruit of the style from LM II to LM I or LM IB.50 But, in fact, a similarly small proportion of seals in the ‘talismanic’ style (or sealings impressed by them) come from secure Neopalatial

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BETTS (supra n. 23) 188-189, 281 n. 13. Ayios Ioannis T. 2 (= Gold Cup tomb) with Cut Style amygdaloid (CMS II3 61) contained no painted pottery; the LM IB-II dating rests on grave type, weaponry and the seals. The Ayia Triada impression is now CMS II6 89: the photographs and drawing reveal this is not Cut Style. For Chania and the Royal Road, see below. Seals from the Unexplored Mansion will appear in CMS II Suppl., meanwhile see here Pl. XXVb for HM 2507; Materials 15, colour Pl. 10b for HM 2505. YOUNGER (supra n. 23) 283-285. His suggestion that ‘cut style’ should also be applied to ‘talismanic’ motifs has not met with widespread acceptance. As noted above, there are marked differences between the two styles. PINI (supra n. 23) 214-215 noting a few earlier examples. In Aegean Seals (147, 201-203, 248-250) I also accepted a LM II floruit for the style, but stressed its inception lay in LM IB (see below). Lions: KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 16) IVA.336; CMS II3 257 (without context but the site was unoccupied after LM IB). For CMS II3 254 (prism with birds from T. XII): KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 26) fig. 8.1a-b. KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 1) 490-491, Pl. CLXXVIa. Good parallels for the running bull on HM 2116 are CMS I 55 (Mycenae T. 12) and V 191b (Thebes). The Royal Road seals will appear in CMS II Suppl. HM 2616: E.A. CATLING, H.W. CATLING and D. SMYTH, “Knossos 1975: Middle Minoan III and Late Minoan I houses by the Acropolis,” BSA 74 (1979) 66, fig. 45, Pl. 14a-b. Note also HM 2323 from Palaikastro (‘LM I’): L.H. SACKETT and M. POPHAM, “Excavations at Palaikastro VII,” BSA 65 (1970) 204, 239 no. 1, Pl. 55 a-b. Both will appear in CMS II Suppl., meanwhile KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 26) figs 8.1g, 8.2d. DIMOPOULOU and KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 11) S17-22. All come from mixed contexts, but roundels were not used after LM IB: E. HALLAGER, The Minoan Roundel and other Sealed Documents in the Neopalatial Linear A Administration (1996) I 36, 50-53, 84. Roughly 9%. About 212 are published in the CMS; a further 24 will appear in CMS II Suppl. (including examples mentioned above). The only Cut Style seals from closely-dated LM II (or II-IIIA1) contexts are: CMS II3 65 and the three seals from the Unexplored Mansion: HM 2505, 2506, 2507 (supra n. 23).

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contexts.51 A further comparison is also worth making. While some 900 examples of the MM III-LM I ‘talismanic’ style are known, the much smaller number of Cut Style seals may indicate that production was fairly short-lived, say from late in LM IA through LM IB. It is, of course, impossible to prove that output did not persist into LM II, but (in my view) this now looks increasingly unlikely. Likewise it is impossible to prove that the Cut Style was never produced on the Greek mainland or islands. But Pini’s views (cited above) regarding the spread of this style fail to take sufficient account of distribution patterns and dating. On present count, the bias in favour of Crete is more than 2:1.52 Just three examples are known to come from LH I-II contexts, i.e. contemporary or close in time to the LM IB period in Crete. These are CMS I 143, an agate lentoid with running goat (Pl. XXVb) from Mycenae T. 515; CMS I 146, a glass amygdaloid depicting a bird with displayed wings from T. 516; and CMS I 406, a glass lentoid with bird from Thebes Ismenion T. 2.53 It remains to be seen whether any examples of the Cut Style were among the 50 seals deposited in the LH II grave of the Griffin Warrior at Pylos; the Vapheio prince had none in his collection of 29 pieces.54 Closer scrutiny of distribution patterns reveals that numerous Cut Style seals have been recovered from late graves (very rarely settlement contexts) on the mainland and islands dating from LH IIIA2-C. Sites in southern Greece include Menidi and Perati in Attica (CMS I 387, 394);55 Nichoria in Messenia (CMS V 437-439); and Kallithea in Achaia (CMS VS1B 176).56 In central Greece examples are known from Medeon and Tanagra (CMS V 362, 684), as well as Elateia (CMS VS2 32).57 The repeated impressions of a damaged Cut Style cushion made of hard stone (CMS VS3 73) occur around the shoulder of a pithos at Livanates (Kynos); although the pithos fragment cannot be closely dated, associated sherd material is LH IIIB. Three Cut Style seals are known from late graves in Thessaly: CMS V 725, 730 and 745: the first two from Mega Monastiri, the third from Pteleon.58 Late contexts in the islands have also yielded examples of the Cut Style: CMS V 604-605 (Naxos) and V 655 (Ialysos), all three associated with LH IIIC material. In addition there is CMS VS1B 37 from the West Shrine at Phylakopi in Melos (LH IIIA-B) and CMS VS1B 366 from a tholos tomb on Tinos (LH IIIA2-C). A Cut Style amygdaloid (CMS VS3 455) even reached Troy, although its precise context dating is not known. Unlike MN 31440 from

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56 57 58

O. KRZYSZKOWSKA, “Seals and society in Late Bronze Age Crete,” in. M. ANDREADAKIVLASAKI and E. PAPADOPOULOU (eds), Πεπραγμένα Ι΄ Διεθνούς Κρητολογικού Συνεδρίου (Χανιά, 1-8 Οκτωβρίου 2006) A Προϊστορικοί Χρόνοι 1 (2011) 442-445, fig. 3. Then I counted ca 70 from Neopalatial contexts; the number rises to ca 82 with the inclusion of new examples from Mochlos, the Royal Road and Poros, i.e. amounting to roughly 9-10% of the extant repertoire. About 60 published examples come from LM IIIA2-C contexts, chiefly graves: ibid. and KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 1) 493, Pl. CLXXVIIb, middle row. See also infra n. 60 for Cut Style in LM IIIA2-C contexts. Crete ca 110; mainland and islands 51. In addition to seals from excavated contexts, the Cretan tally includes pieces where museum registers and/or archival research indicate a Cretan origin with reasonable certainty; it is further assumed that most if not all of Seager’s seals were acquired there: KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 26). A.J.B. WACE, Chamber Tombs at Mycenae (1932) 53, 57, 59 (dating T. 515); 66-67 (dating pit in T. 516); also PINI (supra n. 23) 214 n. 34. One of the Poros seals with a Cut Style bird is also glass: DIMOPOULOU and KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 11) S21. For glass: Aegean Seals 198 with references. S.R. STOCKER and J.L. DAVIS, “The Lord of the Gold Rings: the Griffin Warrior at Pylos,” Hesperia 85 (2016) 627-655; IDEM, “The combat agate from the grave of the Griffin Warrior at Pylos,” Hesperia 86 (2017) 583-605. For seals in the LH IIA Vapheio floor cist: J.G. YOUNGER, “The Vapheio gems: a reconsideration of the find-spots,” AJA 77 (1973) 338-340. I single out for special mention only those where LH IIIA2-C dating is reasonably secure and refer to those from LH IIB/IIIA1 contexts in notes, as for instance: CMS V 174: Athens Agora T. XL (LH IIIA1). Also note: CMS VS1B 155 Patras-Voundeni (LH IIIA1) and VS3 277 Mitopolis T. 5 (LH IIIA1-B1). Also note: CMS VS3 64 and 67 (Kalapodi T. I and III, respectively: LH IIB-IIIA1 and LH IIIA1). Also note: A. ADRYMI-SISMANI, “Seals and jewellery from ancient Iolkos,” in MÜLLER ed. (supra n. 7) 49-50, fig. 5a (Dimini: LH IIB-IIIA1).

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the Megaron at Midea, all the examples cited above are made of hard stones or occasionally glass, which during LB I-II was treated like a semi-precious stone.59 The antique Cut Seal seals from late contexts are widely dispersed, and – for the most part – derive from locations that were far removed from major centres in central and southern Greece, where the engraving of hard stone seals is likely to have been practised during LH I-II. In this sense many are likely to have travelled, not only in time, but also through space.60 Whether any had been produced on the mainland itself, as Pini would assert, is impossible to prove. At best we can observe that Cut Style seals from sites of whatever date on the mainland and islands do not differ fundamentally from Cretan examples and in several cases the matches are very close indeed. It is, therefore, entirely possible that all were indeed produced in Crete, as John Younger originally suggested. Concluding remarks Happily with MN 31440 from the Megaron at Midea we are on firm ground. Even after hard semiprecious stones reached Crete in MM II, soft and medium hard stones played a key role in glyptic output there, continuing throughout LM I-IIIA.61 As we have seen, evidence for the use of limestones in Cretan glyptic is now growing apace, although to date veined limestone is only sporadically represented in the repertoire. A wholly different picture is presented by the Greek mainland, where hard semi-precious stones predominate during LH I-IIIA. It is only sometime in LH IIIA2, with the inception of the Mainland Popular Group in steatite and seals of the Fluorite Group, that locally available soft and medium hard stones were employed.62 Thus we can confidently exclude a mainland origin for MN 31440 from Midea, engraved in a style current in Crete during LM IB, using a material known to have been available and used in the island. That Cretan-made seals reached the Greek mainland should not cause undue surprise. But identifying place of manufacture with confidence, especially for those produced during LB I-II, presents very great challenges. The lentoid from the Megaron at Midea joins the relatively small number of seals on the mainland which can – with absolutely certainty – be ascribed a Cretan origin. These include a few lentoids from LH I-II contexts in the Argolid and Corinthia which can also be readily seen as Cretan-made on the grounds of material and style: they are typical of LM I soft stone output.63 And at Midea itself excavations in the West Gate area yielded a MM II-III prism of soft white 59 60

61

62

63

Glass is CMS V 730; also CMS I 212-213 (Prosymna). For further examples see above and supra n. 53. The wide dispersal was already noted in Aegean Seals 249-250, 305-306; and O. KRZYSZKOWSKA, “Travellers’ Tales: the circulation of seals in the Late Bronze Age Aegean,” in R. LAFFINEUR and E. GRECO (eds), EMPORIA. Aegeans in the Central and Eastern Mediterranean. Proceedings of the 10th International Aegean Conference, Athens, Italian School of Archaeology, 14-18 April 2004 (2005) 771-772. Note also the following examples from late contexts in Crete: CMS VS1A 203 (Phylaki Apokoronou); VS1B 197 (Angelliana) and 235 (Armenoi); VS3 110 (Chania, sub-Minoan grave). For the last and also one from Maroulas (T. 5 larnax 2 with child’s burial, LM IIIB): KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 1) 493, 494 n. 47, Pl. CLXXVIIIa, c. J.G. YOUNGER, “Aegean seals of the Late Bronze Age: Masters and Workshops. II. The firstgeneration Minoan masters,” Kadmos 22 (1983) 117-119, 123-127 (‘Cretan Popular Group’); Aegean Seals 124, 147-148, 212-214. Space precludes a discussion of fluorite (Mohs 4) seals. Many bear ornamental designs, but figural motifs also occur; some are related to Younger’s ‘Island Sanctuaries Group’, e.g. CMS VS3 10, 96, 378. Note that ‘fluorite’ seals on Crete are now recognized as calcite: Materials 14-16, colour Pls 9-10. Further evidence will appear in CMS II Suppl. CMS V 222 (Epidauros) and 511 (Korakou); VS1B 81, 86 (Panaritis) and 91 (Argolid?). They can be attributed to the ‘Cretan Popular Group’: YOUNGER (supra n. 61) 117-119, 123-127. See also: I. PINI, “Spätbronzezeitliche ägäische Weichsteinsiegel mit ausnahme der ‘Mainland Popular Group’ von Fundorten ausserhalb Kretas,” in I. BRADFER-BURDET, B. DETOURNAY and R. LAFFINEUR (eds), KPHΣ TEXNITHΣ. L’artisan crétois. Recueil d’articles en l’honneur de Jean-Claude Poursat, publié à l’occasion des 40 ans de la découverte du Quartier Mu (2005) 199-200, nos 1-2, 4-5, 7, Pl. XLI a-e. Most are probably olive-green to black serpentine, not schist as stated by Pini. Also LM I is CMS I 256 of reddish limestone from Vapheio: Materials 13-14, colour Pl. 8e. CMS V 751 from Pefkakia is also Cretan-made but LM

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material and a LB I-II lentoid of red serpentine, a stone so far only attested in Crete; both were found in secure LH IIIB2 contexts.64 Thus systematic analysis of the repertoire, with painstaking attention to material, as well as to technique and style, can help us pinpoint the origins of antique seals, if not entangle their subsequent travels. As for the later use of limestone for a few seals of John Younger’s ‘Island Sanctuaries Group’, certainty currently eludes us. But most if not all of these seals were also veritable antiques at the time of deposition and the example from Miletus shows that some are likely to have travelled considerable distances from their original homes.65 Olga KRZYSZKOWSKA

64

65

IIIA1 in date. CMS VS3 222 and 224. PINI (supra n. 63) 203 wrongly supposed the latter to be red steatite, local to the mainland: Materials 9-10, colour Pl. 5h. These and other seals from K. Demakopoulou’s excavations are fully discussed in KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 39). Rooms IV and V (with CMS V 499-500) in the Temple at Ayia Irini are broadly dated LH IIIA-B; CMS VS3 235 (Midea, LH IIIB2 context); CMS VS1B 40 (Phylakopi East Shrine, LH IIIC); NIEMEIER (supra n. 40: Kalapodi, LH IIIC middle context). CMS I 175 (Mycenae) and VS3 481 (Miletus) are unstratified. See Stylistic Groups VI 61 for the suggestion that they were produced by itinerant craftsmen. A sealing from the Midea Megaron (CMS VS3 239) was impressed by a hard stone seal related to this group.

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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Pl. XXIVa

Pl. XXIVb

Pl. XXVa

Pl. XXVb

Pl. XXVc

Nauplia Museum (NM) 31440. Lentoid of veined limestone depicting a goat in the Cut Style (Midea, Megaron: back room, surface stratum). Top: left profile, seal face, impression. Bottom: upper and lower profiles, and reverse. Scale ca 2:1. Photos by author. Three seals made of veined limestone: seal faces (top) and impressions (bottom). Left: CMS VI 175, lentoid, MM II-III ‘architectural’ group (ex-Kenna, ‘Palestinian coast just south of Gaza’). Middle: CMS II4 168, lentoid, depicting a bird with outstretched wings in the LM I Cut Style (Malia House Epsilon, Room XXXIII, LM I-III context). Right: CMS VS3 235, lentoid, running quadruped related to J.G. Younger’s ‘Island Sanctuaries Group’ of the later 14th century (Midea, buildings on the plateau north of the West Gate Area, LH IIIB2 context). Scale ca 2:1. CMS II4 168 seal face: photo by Maria Anastasiadou. All other photos by author. Two seals depicting goats in the MM III-LM I ‘talismanic’ style: seal faces and impressions. Left: CMS II3 258, carnelian amygdaloid (Mochlos, excavations Seager). Right: HM 3264, lentoid of finegrained reddish limestone (Poros, Psychogioudakis plot, LM IA late context). Scale ca 2:1. Photos by author. Four seals made of hard semi-precious stones depicting goats in the LM I Cut Style: seal faces (top) and impressions (bottom). Left: CMS VS3 346, carnelian lentoid (Mochlos House C1, LM IB context). Middle left: HM 2507, carnelian lentoid (Knossos Unexplored Mansion, LM II context). Middle right: CMS I 143 agate lentoid (Mycenae Kalkani T. 515, LH IIB context). Right: CMS VS1B 235 haematite lentoid (Armenoi T. 107, LM IIIA-B context). Scale ca 2:1. Photos by author. Three seals made of soft to medium hard stones depicting goats in the LM I Cut Style: seal faces (top) and impressions (bottom). Left: CMS III 441 lentoid of fine-grained limestone (no provenance). Middle: HM 2112 serpentine lentoid (Malia House Epsilon, spoil). Right: CMS III 442 chlorite lentoid (no provenance). Scale ca 2:1. Photos by author. Impressions of the seals illustrated here are housed in the CMS Archive (Heidelberg). The copyright for all original seals illustrated here and which are held in Greek museums rests with Ministry of Culture and Sports Archaeological Receipts Fund. The Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford, retains the copyright for the photograph of the seal face CMS VI 175 (1953.116).

XXIV







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“SEEING” STARS… OR SUNS?8 Introduction In the light of John Younger’s interest in the iconography of the Bronze Age Aegean, this contribution will look at the ubiquitous and varied circular or radiant symbols that appear on Minoan seals and rings, and discuss their interpretation. In archaeological publications variously described as “star”, “whirl”, “sun” or “wheel”, clearer guidelines for the classification of these motifs will be proposed. Their composition and context will be reviewed to interrogate the definition of “decorative” symbols, to identify those designs that signify elements of the natural world, and to discuss the role such motifs play in figurative scenes involving interaction and agency. The chronology and geography of the motifs’ occurrence will also be reviewed to investigate their cultural spread and their possible meaning for the prehistoric people who made and used the tiny engraved objects on which the motifs appear. Previous classifications Minoan glyptic abounds in radiant symbols. I made a preliminary attempt to broach the issue of their definition some years ago,1 but such symbols have never been considered as a whole in an attempt to establish a coherent approach to their iconography. The volumes of the Corpus der minoishen und mykenischen Siegel reflect the diversity of scholarly opinion on the interpretation of these motifs, each of which may be variously described with terms such as “rosette”, “whirl-shaped ornament”, “circle”, “rays”, “lines” “crosspattern”, “star”, or “sun”. There is evidence for the significance in Aegean culture of the sky, heavenly bodies and in particular the sun not only in Crete2 but also in the Cyclades.3 This has highlighted the need for further investigation of such motifs with a particular view to establishing whether any – or none – may be intended to represent a star or sun. A serious consideration of how to reach a consensus in classification would seem to be worth attempting. Paul Yule in his comprehensive study of the chronology of early Cretan seals noted that “Radiating motifs are among the earliest designs to decorate Aegean seals”, and comments on the heterogeneity within this category.4 Although he referred to over one hundred known centrally radiating motifs on these early seals, he dealt only with their occurrence in isolation, not when they appear in figurative scenes, and did not discuss their close relation or possible overlap with the images in his category “Stars”.5 In his classic study of the iconography of Late Bronze Age Aegean glyptic, John Younger6 used the more specific categories “Heaven Lines”, “Moon”, “Stars” and “Sun”, listing ten examples of the latter in figurative scenes involving humans (including several of those shown in Pl. XXXa-h), and over thirty in designs

*

1 2

3

4 5 6

I would like to thank Diamantis Panagiotopoulos and Maria Anastasiadou for permission to reproduce images from the Corpus der minoischen und mykenischen Siegel; and Carlos Guarita for huge support with fieldwork, ideas and illustrations. L. GOODISON, Death, Women and the Sun (1989) figs 12-23. GOODISON (n. 1); EAD., “From Tholos Tomb to Throne Room: Perceptions of the Sun in Minoan Ritual,” in R. LAFFINEUR and R. HÄGG (eds), POTNIA. Deities and Religion in the Aegean Bronze Age (2001) 77-88; EAD., ‘From Tholos Tomb to Throne Room: Some Considerations of Dawn Light and Directionality in Minoan Buildings,’ in G. CADOGAN, E. HATZAKI and A. VASILAKIS (eds), Knossos: Palace, City, State (2004) 339-350. GOODISON, ‘Horizon and Body: Some Aspects of Cycladic Symbolism’ in N.BRODIE, J. DOOLE, G. GAVALAS and C. RENFREW (eds), Orizon: A Colloquium on the Prehistory of the Cyclades (2008) 417-431. P. YULE, Early Cretan Seals: A Study of Chronology (1980) 148. YULE (supra n. 4) 148-150, Pls 18-20. J.G. YOUNGER, The Iconography of Late Minoan and Mycenaean Sealstones and Finger Rings (1988) 234, 290291.

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involving animals. Maria Anastasiadou in her monograph on Middle Minoan prisms gave detailed definitions of motifs, including over eighty examples in her categories “Star”, “Star pommée”, “Whirl”, “Two-armed whirl”, “Centred-lunette”, “Three-armed whirl” and “Four-armed whirl”.7 Janice Crowley in her general study of the iconography of Aegean seals used categories for the motifs “skyline”, “celestial sign”, “moon disk”, “moon crescent” and “sunburst”. She gave eight examples of the latter, noting that it may be shown above or below a skyline and may be represented by rays coming out of a centre, may have a varying number of points and may have its ray points confined within a disk. 8 A number of circular/radiant motifs are found among the signs in the Cretan Hieroglyphic script and were categorized by Arthur Evans as solar symbols (Pl. XXVIa). It was not within the scope of any of the above volumes to interrogate their categories or discuss the meaning of these radiant symbols on seals; a number of questions remain outstanding. These include: how can we confidently interpret any given graphic symbol as a star or sun and how can we distinguish between them? What prejudices are brought to bear on such interpretations by archaeology past and present? How far can we hope to approach the meaning of the symbols for the prehistoric users of the seals? I will first revisit the issue of identifying the sun, which may be informed by considering sun and moon pairings, as well as the iconographic repertoire used for sun and star by neighbouring cultures in Egypt and the Near East. Sun and Moon pairing Representations that juxtapose a radiant or circular symbol with a crescent-shaped motif are generally accepted as showing the sun and moon, subjectively perceived as a pairing from the position of a viewer on earth who sees two large luminous elements moving across the sky and makes an association between them. Graphic motifs that are used to show the sun in this context may reasonably be taken to also represent the sun when they appear in other contexts without the crescent moon. There are three prominent examples of such pairings in Aegean art: the “Great Gold Ring” from Mycenae (Pl. XXXl), the famous gold ring from Tiryns (Pl. XXXm), and the bronze plaque from the Psychro Cave (Pl. XXXp).9 Although these items derive from the Late Bronze Age, and two of them are Minoinizing rings from the mainland, they give an indication of what constituted several recognizable graphic representations of the sun: a circular disc with radial lines inscribed within it; a wheel with six radial spokes; and a circle with a large number of lines protruding radially from its circumference. The Near-Eastern repertoire Again within the context of sun-moon pairing, we find in the contemporary Near-Eastern repertoire several variations of graphic symbols used to represent a circular element resting within a crescent shape (Pl. XXVIb-h). For all of these there are indications, and in some cases direct textual evidence, that they show the sun and moon.10 The presence in Bronze Age Crete of Near-Eastern cylinder seals, in some cases actually bearing engravings of such pairings, indicates that this way of representing the sun and moon was known in Crete.11

7

8 9

10 11

M. ANASTASIADOU, The Middle Minoan Three-Sided Soft Stone Prism: A Study of Style and Iconography (2011) Pls 91, 98, 99, 100. J.L. CROWLEY, The Iconography of Aegean Seals (2013) 70, 197-199. I have reconsidered my reliance on the schist objects from Tylissos and Phaistos, see J. HATZIDAKIS, Les villas minoennes de Tylissos (1934) Pl. XXX.2, where he describes the objects as “deux symboles solaires”. Their similarity in shape to the Egyptian symbol for the moon raises questions. GOODISON (supra n. 1) 12-13 with references. GOODISON (supra n. 1) 13, fig. 13a, d.

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The Egyptian repertoire Since the early days of Minoan archaeology, scholars have highlighted the evidence of contact with, and influence from, Egypt. 12 The Minoan material shows particular resonances with the Egyptian iconography of the sun, which is shown in Pl. XXVIi-r. The scarab motif, in Egyptian tradition representing the sun at dawn, may have travelled to Crete without carrying solar associations (Pl. XXVIs); but this can hardly be the case with the Egyptian gesture of sun-worship (Pl. XXVIp) which is paralleled in Minoan glyptic (see below, Pl. XXXa-h). This might prompt the question whether the Egyptian motif for the sun at night (Pl. XXVIn) also finds an echo on Minoan seals, in the somewhat cruder representations of a figure holding a stake, pole or branch at arm’s length, as on Pl. XXVIt; note parallels in the position of both arms and legs as well as in the non-human head.13 Questioning Some Assumptions In Iron Age and Classical Greece, the sun – Helios – is male. Over the following centuries, Western culture too has adopted the normative imagery of a male sun paired with a female moon, part of a dominant binary symbolism prevailing in western culture.14 This association predisposes the contemporary viewer towards certain assumptions, and it may seem counter-intuitive to draw attention to an association in Minoan glyptic of the sun with the female body. Such an association does – like the sun-worship gesture – again reveal a precedent in Egyptian iconography, where it is the goddesses Nephthys and Isis who are often shown saluting the sun (Pl. XXVIq), standing on either side of it in an arrangement that we will find specifically mirrored in Minoan glyptic (see below, Pl. XXXa). Egyptian symbolism also features the solar disc appearing in a context where it is more closely identified with the female body, when it is shown shining/emerging from the belly of the sky-goddess Nut (for example, in Pl. XXVIr). The alignment with the female anatomy is quite specific, with the placing of the sun immediately above the pubic area, recalling the radiant motifs that have been identified as solar symbols15 placed in a similar position immediately above the female pubic triangle on the Cycladic vessels dubbed “frying-pans” (Pl. XXVIIa-c). These vessels have prompted much speculation, including that the “frying-pan” was a “fertility charm in the form of a womb”16 or that it represented “the holy womb of the Great Goddess”17. Although often found in funerary contexts, the use of these vessels in ritual has not been confirmed; but the appearance of sun symbols in this context closely associated with the female body challenges stereotypes based on our culture’s prevalent gender symbolism, and shows that we cannot assume that such stereotypes held force everywhere in the Aegean in the Bronze Age. Certain other assumptions may need to be questioned as we approach possible sun symbols in Minoan iconography. One is that – despite acknowledgement of its important role in other prehistoric societies – the sun was not a significant element in Aegean religion. This preconception rests partly on the influential opinion of Martin Nilsson,18 as well perhaps as on an idealization of Early Aegean culture as too civilized for such blatantly pagan concerns as “sun-worship”. Hand in hand goes a tendency in traditional archeology to look for prehistoric religious formulations predominantly in the shape of anthropomorphic deities, such as prevail in classical Greek and current European religions.19 Another 12 13 14

15 16 17 18 19

E.g. A. EVANS, “Preface” to S. XANTHOUDIDES, The Vaulted Tombs of Mesara (1924). E.g. also CMS VI no. 51, and for further examples see GOODISON (supra n. 1) fig. 86a-d. Famously summarized by S.B. ORTNER, “Is Female to Male as Nature is to Culture?,” in M.Z. ROSALDO and L. LAMPHERE (eds), Woman, Culture, and Society (1974) 68-87. For example, by C. RENFREW, The Emergence of Civilization (1972) 421. R. HIGGINS, Minoan and Mycenaean Art (1967) 55. J. THIMME, “Die Religiöse Bedeutung der Kykladenidole,” in Antike Kunst 8 (1965) 84. M. NILSSON, The Minoan-Mycenaean Religion and Its Survival in Greek Religion (1927) 413, 420. See discussion in A. PEATFIELD, “A Metaphysical History of Minoan Religion,” in E. ALRAM-STERN, F. BLAKOLMER, S. DEGER-JALKOTZY, R. LAFFINEUR and J. WEILHARTNER (eds),

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factor may be the over-enthusiasm of some scholars dedicated to “alignment-hunting”, often on computers rather than through fieldwork, and without due consideration of context, which understandably prompts a certain wariness among their colleagues in the academic community. There are signs that this is now changing, with the publication of studies bringing the archaeology of the sky into serious engagement with archaeology on the ground;20 hopefully this development may encourage a less hesitant approach towards identifying solar symbols. Star or Sun? From the above discussion on iconography, certain conclusions can be drawn. The sun/moon pairings, and the cross-cultural examples from civilizations known to have been in contact with the Minoans, allow us to identify certain graphic markers that distinguish between motifs intended to represent a sun and those intended to represent a star. All the examples of sun symbols considered above include a circular or disc shape of varying size, with or without rays. Perception is of course a culturally determined and fluid process, but in this case it is operating in relation to the non-discursive existence of certain heavenly bodies visible to humans, which even cross-culturally may present in certain similar ways to the human eye. The sun, though strictly itself a star, is so much closer to earth that it presents differently from other more distant stars. Thus it is often – and cross-culturally – perceived as a disc, with or without rays (as photographed in Pl. XXVIId), while a star is never so perceived. In certain situations, the sun may appear as a dazzling sparkle that is nothing but radiating rays, and if it is graphically represented as such it may be confused with a representation of a star; but conversely a disc is never offered as an appropriate motif to indicate a distant star. So where a radiant motif includes a disc shape of whatever size, and when a disc shape or circle is shown in the sky, especially if it presents rays to indicate a more powerful radiance than that of the moon, we can be confident in identifying a sun. I would suggest that there are two other helpful indicators. Apart from the “shooting” variety, stars are not noticeably seen as moving across the heavens – whereas the sun consistently travels across the entire expanse of the sky each day. So where a radiant symbol is shown on its own – or in the sky as part of a larger scene – with features indicating movement, we may again suggest that this is not a star but a sun. And where a circular motif appears with a figure deploying the gesture of sun-worship established in Egyptian religion and adopted in Minoan glyptic, this can be another indication that the motif represents not a star but the sun. We are thus armed with several guidelines to identify a sun even when it is not specifically paired with a crescent moon or shown above a ‘skyline’. These guidelines suggest that a sun is indicated by a motif featuring a disc or a radiant disc; a radiant motif showing movement; or a circular or radiant motif shown in a likely context, such as if it is accompanied by a known gesture of sun-worship or is positioned on a female belly as on the Cycladic “frying-pans”. Where such a symbol appears in isolation, it can be argued that it is a purely decorative rather than a representational motif. Seals were, however, items that were carefully worked and engraved, often with ritual scenes, and in some cases worn about the person. There is some consensus that in addition to any practical role, they may have carried an amuletic significance. We cannot assume a secular, insignificant or purely decorative interpretation for their motifs. Pl. XXVIII shows a number of such motifs of solar type appearing on Minoan seals in isolation without any indicative surrounding context. Pl. XXIXa-o shows a number of “moving” motifs that may also be considered to be solar. I shall exclude from the discussion the labyrinth and the motifs shown on Pl. XXIXp-t: versions of the swastika, and the spiral – even when it shows signs of movement (Pl. XXIXt). These might also be intended to be sun symbols, but at this stage we lack the same evidence to present a

20

MATAPHYSIS. Ritual, Myth and Symbolism in the Aegean Bronze Age (2016) 489-494; also L. GOODISON and C. MORRIS, “Goddesses in Prehistory,” in D. BOLGER (ed.), A Companion to Gender Prehistory (2013) 265-287. See, for example, B. DAVIS et al., “Like Dolmen, like Dromos: Contextualizing the Solar Orientations of Some Mycenaean Tholoi” in M. FOTIADIS, R. LAFFINEUR, Y. LOLOS and A. VLACHOPOULOS (eds), HESPEROS. The Aegean seen from the West (2016) 525-530.

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case for a solar interpretation as we have for the motifs in Pls XXVIII and XXIXa-o. Other ambivalent symbols are also excluded from the following discussion, including the motifs shown in Pl. XXIXu-v; although again these may indeed have been intended as solar, they do not adequately meet the criteria. Making confident identifications of solar symbols makes it possible to start building a picture of the distribution of seals bearing solar symbols. Of the thirty-two seals shown in Pls XXVIII and XXIXa-o, selected purely on the basis of their iconography, twenty have a secure provenance, and of those twenty over half are from Mesara-type tomb sites in south-central Crete (Aghia Triadha, Aghios Onouphrios, Kamilari, Koumasa, Lebena Papoura, Lebena Yerokampos, Platanos and Porti). Tombs of this type are mostly found in or close to the Mesara Plain, with a few exceptions in north-central Crete and east Crete. The tombs are circular and almost all have their doorways aligned to sunrise at specific times of year, such that the dawn sun would appear through it on those dates, shining in onto the dead. These alignments have been photographed at a number of such tombs where the doorways survive, and reveal a high degree of intentionality in direction and dating; see the photograph of dawn at Kaloi Limenes Tomb I, Pl. XXVIi, d.21 Such tomb construction is a practice suggestive of a strong ritual significance, as has been identified in prehistoric Ireland: “Direct sunlight entering a solstitially aligned passage tomb at sunrise or sunset would have imbued the whole edifice, and the interred remains of the dead, with the highest level of symbolism”.22 The excavation of seals bearing sun symbols in similarly solar-aligned tombs in Crete strongly suggests a link between architecture and iconography: the tomb builders’ concern with orientation to the dawn resonates with sun designs on the seals deposited at the tombs. A more comprehensive survey of the geographic occurrence of individual solar symbols on seals might serve to further illuminate this connection. Figurative scenes Since it is beyond the scope of this paper to consider the very numerous representations of possible solar symbols juxtaposed with animals, 23 I will here focus only on figurative scenes involving anthropomorphic figures. Where securely identified solar symbols appear in such figurative scenes, then a series of different factors come in to play. Whereas engravings of radiant symbols in isolation are so numerous that a complete review of them is beyond the scope of this paper, in contrast all the engravings of the sun with anthropomorphic figures can be brought together and considered here. In these cases, one can assume that they are not decorative motifs but rather represent an element of the natural world depicted because it bears a relationship to or significance for the anthropomorphic figure(s) shown. Figurative scenes which include solar symbols fall into three types. There are standing figures who make a gesture of salute towards a low sun; there are figures standing arms akimbo with a low sun on either side; and there are scenes where a sun or sun-and-moon appear high in the sky, usually above a female figure who is significantly seated (for example, at a shrine or under a tree). The most numerous type is that which shows one or more figures standing with arm(s) raised in a gesture of salute towards a low sun (Pl. XXXa-h). The figures are always women; no male figures are shown on these seals. The arm position – though slightly varied from seal to seal – parallels that of the Egyptian gesture of sun-worship (Pl. XXVIp), and the costume is consistently elaborate (high collar and/or flounced skirt). Pl. XXXa was described by Evans as showing “long-robed women… adoring a rayed solar symbol”,24 while Kenna described it as “Two women adoring the solar symbol… This is

21

22 23 24

For further visual material shot on location at Mesara-type tombs, see L. GOODISON, “Journeys with Death. Spatial Analysis of the Mesara-type Tombs of Prehistoric Crete,” in C. MORRIS, G. PAPANTONIOU and A. VIONIS (eds), Unlocking Sacred Landscapes. Spatial Analysis of Ritual and Cult in the Mediterranean (forthcoming). From T. CONDIT and G. COONEY (eds), Solar alignment and the Irish Passage Tomb Tradition (2018) 3. See YOUNGER (supra n. 6) 290-291; GOODISON (supra n. 1) figs 167, 173-8. A. EVANS, The Palace of Minos 1 (1902) 125.

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perhaps a representation of the sacred dance”.25 This image, on a three-sided steatite prism seal ascribable to MM II, may be the earliest dateable example of a type which is remarkably cohesive. In every case in the images shown in Pl. XXXa-h, the position of the sun in the sky is consistently low, at belly height, an indication that it is either rising or setting. The human figures’ relationship with the sun is interactive: the figures are saluting – whether in appreciation or expectation – in response to the sun. These eight examples are striking in showing an activity that has not been acknowledged or considered but clearly conveys information about a little-known aspect of Minoan religion. It is hard to avoid the conclusion that we see here a common ritual gesture that was performed in real time by female participants in the presence of a low (and therefore rising or setting) sun. The second type of figurative representation shows a variant scene in which a female figure, clad similarly to those in Pl. XXXa-h, stands with arms akimbo accompanied by two low sun motifs, one on either side of her, again at belly height (Pl. XXXi-k). In all three examples here, the gender and costume are again consistent, as is the positioning of the solar symbols. While on Pl. XXXk the head is sketchy or missing, in Pl. XXXi and j the female figure appears to have a bird head and on Pl. XXXj the female figure’s arms look like wings. With two suns shown, this is evidently not a realistic scene. It could however be intended to show two rituals telescoped together: the two suns perhaps representing the rising and the setting sun, or the shift in the position of sunrise between summer and winter. How these recurring and evidently significant scenes can be integrated into our wider understanding of Minoan religion is beyond the scope of this paper, but it would seem to be a question worth pursuing. A third type of representation shows a high sun or sun-and-moon (Pl. XXXl-p), and appears predominantly on gold rings (Pl. XXXl-o). Such rings are normally dated to the fifteenth century BC, although their use continued later. While Pl. XXXn and o – showing only a sun – could be realistic scenes, on Pl. XXXl and m this is clearly not the case: the appearance of sun and moon close together is not literal and would rather suggest that they are playing a symbolic role. On Pl. XXXl, this pairing appears above a large female seated beneath a tree and approached by a procession; on Pl. XXXm there is again an important seated female figure, in this case approached by a procession of Minoan “genii”, further removing the scene from interpretation as an actual event happening in real time. On Pl. XXXn a single male figure approaches a female seated at a shrine; his gesture and gaze are directed at the female figure not at the sun in the sky above. On Pl. XXXo it is a male figure standing in front of a shrine adopting the gesture of command who is approached by a subordinate female; again her attention is directed towards him, not towards the high sun above. In three of these scenes, the heavenly body/ies are separated from the human action by a dividing line. Whether they show real or imaginary scenes, the sun is not a participant in those scenes. Its presence is due only to some relevance it bears to those scenes at the level of association. Sun and moon appearing simultaneously have been taken by John Boardman26 to represent “the essential elements of a cosmogony” on a small bronze plaque from the Psychro Cave (Pl. XXXp). Here they are set high in the sky with a fish floating in space, and a bird perched on a bough nearby. Standing amidst horns of consecration, a male figure on the ground faces – with arm extended – not the heavenly bodies but a single tree. Although any depiction of sun and moon on a par close together in the sky is necessarily non-literal, and the “genii” on Pl. XXXm introduce another non-realistic, fictional/mythological, element, the physical activities shown in these scenes (processing/approaching/saluting special figures, objects or sites such as trees or shrines) could be activities that were actually carried out within the practice of Minoan religion. It is clear, however, that those involved are not in any interactive relationship with the sun, which has become an appendage to the main action.

25 26

V.E.G. KENNA, Cretan Seals (1960) 43. J. BOARDMAN, The Cretan Collection in Oxford (1961) 46.

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175

Chronological and geographical distribution Reviewing the figurative scenes involving the sun shown in Pl. XXX, one meets the problem that a number of them are chance finds, or seals purchased by archaeologists or collectors, and therefore lack an attested find context and reliable dating. This is compounded by the long use life of the seals and rings, such that they may appear in contexts that are considerably later than their original production and use. Even so, it is possible to make some tentative general comments about their dating and their find sites. Thus it would seem that the interactive scenes of figures saluting the sun (Pl. XXXa-h) are first evidenced in Middle Minoan, the period to which Pl. XXXa and b are usually ascribed. They then continue into the Late Minoan period as can be confirmed on stylistic grounds in cases where a dated context is lacking. Pl. XXXj has been dated to Late Minoan IIIB. Of the non-interactive scenes, however (Pl. XXXl-p), none can be dated earlier than the Late Bronze Age.27 The four gold rings, Pl. XXXl-o, show indications of ritual status, more complex activities or monumental architecture, and seem to reflect a later phase of religious development when rituals had become more elaborate with specialized personnel. Honour is paid to an anthropomorphic figure rather than to an element of the natural world such as the sun. The image on Pl. XXXp does not carry such implications, but suggests a complex network of ideas about the natural world, and shows attention directed not towards the sun but towards a tree. As for geographical distribution, what is known of the find sites of the seals and rings bearing solar symbols that have been presented here is suggestive. Of Pl. XXXa-h – the eight images of figures saluting a single sun – two are reliably from Knossos, three are alleged to be from Knossos, and two are allegedly from the broader Heraklion area. Only one is attributed with a provenance outside north-central Crete: Pl. XXXc is allegedly from the “Isthmus of Ierapetra”, further south and east than the others, although still broadly in central Crete. Such scenes are not shown on earlier seal material. However, excavators have found seals showing individual solar symbols in stratigraphically mixed contexts at the Mesara-type tombs, suggesting that interest in the sun was indeed present earlier. Some of the tombs date back to EM I. The seal-engraving craft in its early stages did not embrace developed figurative scenes, so the lack of such depictions earlier than MM is not conclusive proof that the practice of saluting the sun did not also happen earlier. Of the three representations with two suns, Pl. XXXk is said to be from central Crete, Pl. XXXi from West Crete and Pl. XXXj of uncertain provenance. Overall the limited data thus strongly suggest that interest in the sun, and whatever practices may have been involved, were most prevalent in south-central and north-central Crete. This would be consistent with evidence suggesting that the light of the dawn sun was exploited for dramatic effect in the Knossos “Throne Room” towards the end of the Late Bronze Age.28 There is a marked contrast when one investigates the provenance of the images in Pl. XXXl-p, the more elaborated ritual scenes showing no interaction with a sun that appears only in a scene-setting or symbolic role. Here two of the five items are from the Greek mainland (Mycenae and Tiryns) and one is alleged to be so (described as “from Thebes’). Another is alleged to be from northern Greece. The only example from Crete is Pl. XXXp, the tiny bronze plaque from the Psychro cave which retains a focus on the natural world but not on the sun. The review of these figurative scenes that include the sun thus points towards some interesting conclusions. In addition to the individual solar images from the Mesara-type tombs in south-central Crete that resonate with the preoccupation with dawn alignment shown in the tomb architecture at those sites, we also have evidence of a different aspect of concern with the sun where it was the object of interactive rituals and was saluted by female figures. The evidence for such rituals starts in the Middle Minoan period and continues through to Late Minoan IIIB, and derives mainly from Knossos and central Crete. In contrast, ritual scenes where the sun is not addressed interactively, but appears as an associated symbol or

27 28

BOARDMAN (supra n. 26) believes the Psychro Plaque, Pl. XXXp, cannot be earlier than LM I. GOODISON 2001 and 2004 (supra n. 2).

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scene-setter, are not evidenced before the Late Bronze Age and such images as we have are mostly from the Greek mainland. They usually appear on gold rings, and the scenes tend to suggest greater complexity and more developed hierarchy in ritual practices. This brief study suggests that once we can establish guidelines to identify which circular/radiant symbols in Minoan glyptic are intended to denote the sun, new information can be brought forward about the extent and the development of the sun’s role in Minoan religion. A non-secular interest in the sun seems to have been prevalent at specific times and places in Crete during the Bronze Age with a real basis in ritual practice as well as in cosmological ideas, and with a strong showing in the iconographic record. As such it would seem to call for further consideration at a variety of sites, and more detailed study.

Lucy GOODISON

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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Pl. XXVIa

Hieroglyphic signs 107-110, identified by A. Evans as solar (after A.J. EVANS, Scripta Minoa Vol. I [1909] 221-222). Pl. XXVIb-h Solar symbols from the Near Eastern repertoire. Pl. XXVIb-c Star-discs in crescents from the near-Eastern seal repertoire (drawings by author after D. COLLON, Catalogue of the Western Asiatic Seals in the British Museum: Cylinder Seals 2 [1982] 132). Pl. XXVId-e Variations of the disc in crescent (drawings by author after A. ROES, Greek Geometric Art: Its symbolism and its Origin [1933] fig. 1). Pl. XXVIf Crossed circle or “wheel” in crescent (drawings by author after D. COLLON, The Seal Impressions from Tell Atchana/Alalakh [1975] 166 no. 122). Pl. XXVIg-h Variations of the disc in crescent (drawings by author after D. COLLON, Catalogue of the Western Asiatic Seals in the British Museum: Cylinder Seals 3: Isin-Larsa and Old Babylonian Periods [1986] 48). Pl. XXVIi-r Solar and related iconography from the Egyptian repertoire. Pl. XXVIi-p Major religious symbols in ancient Egypt (drawings by author after R.T. RUNDLE CLARK, Myth and Symbol in Ancient Egypt [1959] 257, 259). Pl. XXVIi Star (always five-pointed). Pl. XXVIj Sun (red circle in white ring). Pl. XXVIk Moon. Pl. XXVIl Sunlight. Pl. XXVIm Sun at dawn. Pl. XXVIn Sun at night. Pl. XXVIo Eye (can be sun, moon, etc.). Pl. XXVIp Gesture of sun worship. Pl. XXVIq Isis and Nephthys saluting the sun (at extreme left and right); from over the entrance to tomb of Ramses X (drawing by author after E. HORNUNG, Tal der Könige: Die Ruhestätte der Pharaonen [1983] 198). Pl. XXVIr Nut giving birth to the sun, the rays of which fall on Hathor on the horizon (after E.A.W. BUDGE, The Gods of the Egyptians 2 [1904] 101). Pl. XXVIs-t Minoan comparanda. Pl. XXVIs Seal in the shape of a scarab beetle from Platanos Tomb B: CMS II1 no. 283 (after XANTHOUDIDES [supra n. 12] Pl. XIV). Pl. XXVIt Figure standing with staff on steatite three-sided prism bead seal (drawing by author after CMS VII no. 3). Pl. XXVIIa “Frying-pan” from Syros; National Archaeological Museum, Athens, no. 5164 (drawing by author after AEph (1899) Pl. 9 no. 4). Pl. XXVIIb “Frying-pan” from Cycladic island of Syros; National Archaeological Museum, Athens, no. 5077 (drawing by author). Pl. XXVIIc “Frying-pan” from Cycladic island of Syros; in National Archaeological Museum, Athens, no. 4971 (drawing by author). Pl. XXVIId Dawn sun shining in through doorway of Mesara-type Tomb Kaloi Limenes I (photograph by C. Guarita; reproduced by kind permission of the photographer). Pl. XXVIIIa-q Static solar symbols. Pl. XXVIIIa Seal from Tholos II at Lebena (CMS II1 no. 198). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Pl. XXVIIIb Sealing from Phaistos (CMS II5 no. 130). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Pl. XXVIIIc Seal from settlement site at Gournia (CMS II1 no. 465). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Pl. XXVIIId Sealing from Phaistos (CMS II5 no. 125). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Pl. XXVIIIe Stone seal from cemetery of Koumasa (after XANTHOUDIDES [supra n. 12] Pl. XV). Pl. XXVIIIf Sealing from Phaistos (CMS II5 no. 129). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Pl. XXVIIIg Steatite three-sided prism (CMS II2 no. 242). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Pl. XXVIIIh Steatite seal from Kamilari (CMS II1 no. 452). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Pl. XXVIIIi Sealing from Phaistos (CMS II5 no. 126). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Pl. XXVIIIj Seal from Tholos Gamma at Platanos (CMS II1 no. 333). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Pl. XXVIIIk Green steatite discoid with scalloped edge (CMS XII no. 27). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Pl. XXVIIIl Black steatite seal (CMS VIII no. 112). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg.

178 Pl. XXVIIIm Pl. XXVIIIn Pl. XXVIIIo Pl. XXVIIIp Pl. XXVIIIq Pl. XXIXa-o Pl. XXIXa Pl. XXIXb Pl. XXIXc Pl. XXIXd Pl. XXIXe Pl. XXIXf Pl. XXIXg Pl. XXIXh Pl. XXIXi Pl. XXIXj Pl. XXIXk Pl. XXIXl Pl. XXIXm Pl. XXIXn Pl. XXIXo Pl. XXIXp-v Pl. XXIXp Pl. XXIXq Pl. XXIXr Pl. XXIXs Pl. XXIXt Pl. XXIXu

Pl. XXIXv Pl. XXXa-h Pl. XXXa Pl. XXXb Pl. XXXc Pl. XXXd Pl. XXXe Pl. XXXf Pl. XXXg Pl. XXXh Pl. XXXi-k

Lucy GOODISON Seal from Aghios Onouphrios tomb (CMS II1 no. 111b). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Ivory cylinder seal from Aghia Triadha Tomb A (CMS II1 no. 7). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Ivory cylinder seal from Aghia Triadha Tomb A (CMS II1 no. 9). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. MM III seal (CMS XII no. 116). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Lentoid seal from Episkopi (CMS II3 no. 140). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. “Moving” solar symbols. Steatite three-sided prism from Stonecutters’ workshop at Mallia (CMS II2 no. 90). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Dark green steatite prism bead seal (CMS VII no. 215a). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Green steatite fluted conoid seal (CMS XII no. 34). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Steatite biconvex discoid, chance find from Knossos (CMS II2 no. 212). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Steatite three-sided prism bead (CMS XII no. 38b). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Steatite three-sided prism bead (CMS XII no. 51b). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Serpentine pear-shaped signet (CMS IV no. 53). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Steatite truncated cone seal (CMS IV no. 55). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. White steatite three-sided prism seal (CMS IV no. 70c). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Ivory cylinder seal from Aghia Triadha Tomb A (CMS II1 no. 10). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Seal from Koumasa Tomb B (CMS II1 no. 137a). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Seal from Platanos Tomb B (CMS II1 no. 308). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Seal from Platanos Tomb B (CMS II1 no. 347). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Seal from Porti Tomb P (CMS II,1 no. 368. Porti A). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Seal from Lebena Papoura Tomb 1 (CMS II1 no. 189). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Motifs not confirmed as solar symbols. Seal from Aghia Triadha Tomb A (CMS II1 no. 52b). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Steatite prism seal, unknown provenance (CMS XII no. 51a). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. White steatite prism seal, from ?Siteia (CMS IV no. 70b). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Seal from Knossos (CMS II1 no. 456). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Ivory seal from Aghia Triadha Tomb A (CMS II1 no. 40). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Late Bronze Age rock crystal lentoid seal showing female figure blowing a triton shell beside an altar, beneath one side of which is a radiant symbol (A.J. EVANS, “Mycenaean Tree and Pillar Cult and Its Mediterranean Relations,” JHS 21 [1901] fig. 25). Steatite or serpentine cushion seal from the House of the Frescoes, Knossos (CMS II3 no. 17). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Representations of a single solar symbol in an interactive figurative scene. Steatite three-sided prism seal: CMS VI1 no. 34; from “Kasteli Pedhiadhas” (EVANS [supra n. 24] 124, fig. 93Ab 1-3). Green jasper three-sided prism seal: CMS VI1 no. 92; from “District of Candia” (=Heraklion) (EVANS [supra n. 24] 276 fig. 207k). Black limestone lentoid seal: CMS II3 no. 304; from “Isthmus of Ierapetra”; “Gift from R.B. Seager” (drawing by author). Brown/green steatite lentoid seal: CMS II3 no. 171; from “Flur Ellinika” (=Knossos?); bought by Hutchinson in 1939 and donated to the Archaeological Museum of Heraklion (drawing by author). Dark grey/green fine-grained slate lentoid seal; from “Knossos” (CMS III no. 351). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Black chlorite lentoid seal: CMS III no. 352; from “Knossos” (drawing by author). Seal from “Gypsum House” at Knossos, excavated by P. Warren, no. SEX/81/1393 (drawing by author). Lentoid seal; chance find by E. Sapouna-Sakellarakis’ staff member at Unexplored Mansion, Knossos (drawing by author after Archaeological Reports [1986-7] 53, fig. 92). Representations of two solar symbols in interactive figurative scenes.

“SEEING” STARS… OR SUNS? Pl. XXXi Pl. XXXj Pl. XXXk Pl. XXXl-p Pl. XXXl Pl. XXXm Pl. XXXn Pl. XXXo Pl. XXXp

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Dark olive-green limestone lentoid seal: CMS II3 no. 3; “from Kalyves”; “bought” (drawing by author). Green steatite lentoid seal; no provenance given (CMS VII no. 142). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Dark-green steatite lentoid seal; chance find from central Crete; “bought” (CMS II4 no. 55). Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Representations of solar symbols in non-interactive figurative scenes. Gold signet ring from the Acropolis of Mycenae: CMS I no. 17; usually dated to LH II (NILSSON [supra n. 18] 347 fig. 158). Gold ring from Tiryns: CMS I no. 179 (drawing by author after NILSSON [supra n. 18] 147 fig. 55). Gold signet ring “from Thebes”: CMS V no. 199 (drawing by author). Gold signet ring, allegedly from the Thracian Chersonese: CMS XI no. 28 (drawing by author). Bronze tablet from Psychro (Diktaean Cave) in Crete (drawing by author after BOARDMAN [supra n. 26] Pl. XV).

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BLESSED (?) CHARMS: THE FIGURE-EIGHT SHIELD IN THE AEGEAN ARTS OF PERSONAL ADORNMENT8 John Younger’s writings, rich with scholarly gems and narrative charms, have breathed life and personality into Aegean adornment. I am delighted to offer him this essay – a small trinket. The sacred and the ornate Religious and ritual imagery was as fascinating and inspiring to the Aegean people of the Bronze Age as it is to Aegean scholars today. An array of emblems, cult objects, paraphernalia, and evocative forms materialized in diverse ways, punctuated a range of rituals, and underwent development and revaluation during the period. Particularly interesting is the adoption of sacred symbols and images in jewelry, costume, and the toiletry apparatus. The established validity of these themes provides a solid basis for exploring the implications of their use in the embellishment and presentation of the human body, and of its material surroundings. This paper focuses on the figure-eight shield, which held attraction as jewelry form (beads and pendants, seals,1 and rings), as decoration on toiletry vessels (alabastra and pyxides), and as buttons and dress appendages, as is proposed below.

∗

1

My warm thanks to the editors of this volume for the opportunity to honor a scholar whom I greatly respect, to Ernestine Elster, Dimitra Kokkinidou, Eleni Manakidou, Kostas Paschalidis, and Liana Stefani, for valuable input and access to important publications; to Maria Anastasiadou and Diana Wolf of the CMS Heidelberg, for permission to reproduce images; and to my children, Andreas and Irene, for helping with library search and improving the English of the manuscript. All omissions and errors remain mine. The following abbreviations are used: Beads = H. HUGHES-BROCK, “Mycenaean Beads: Gender and Social Contexts,” OJA 18 (1999) 277-296; CÀSSOLA-GUIDA = P. CÀSSOLA-GUIDA, Le armi difensive dei Micenei nelle fgurazioni (1973); DANIELIDOU = D. DANIELIDOU, Η οκτώσχημη ασπίδα στο Αιγαίο της 2ης π.Χ. χιλιετίας (1998); EIKON = R. LAFFINEUR and J.L. CROWLEY (eds), EIKON. Aegean Bronze Age Iconography. Shaping a Methodology. Proceedings of the 4th International Aegean Conference / 4e Rencontre égéenne internationale, University of Tasmania, Hobart, Australia, 6-9 April 1992 (1992); Jewelry = J. YOUNGER, “Representations of Minoan-Mycenaean Jewelry,” in EIKON 257-293; KOSMOS = M.-L. NOSCH and R. LAFFINEUR (eds), KOSMOS. Jewellery, Adornment and Textiles in the Aegean Bronze Age. Proceedings of the 13th International Aegean Conference / 13e Rencontre égéenne internationale, University of Copenhagen, Danish National Research Foundation’s Centre for Textile Research, 21-26 April 2010 (2012); PM I-IV = A.J. EVANS, The Palace of Minos at Knossos I-IV (1921-1935); Schmuck = Μ. EFFINGER, Minoischer Schmuck (1996); REHAK = P. REHAK, “Minoan Vessels With Figure-Eight Shields,” OpAth 19 (1992) 115-124. YOUNGER = J. YOUNGER, “Non-Sphragistic Uses of Minoan-Mycenaean Sealstones and Rings,” Kadmos 16 (1977) 141-159. In jewelry, the figure-eight shield is considerably outnumbered by other forms (geometric or natural); DANIELIDOU catalogs a modest total of eighty-two shield-shaped ornaments in the entire Aegean (mostly isolated pieces and a few necklaces), while Schmuck includes only fifteen Minoan beads and pendants (tabulated on pp. 344, 346). However, the numbers increase significantly if we count the representations of shields (independently or in figural scenes) on sealstones and signet rings – more than a hundred and thirty of them (DANIELIDOU, 109-161, cat. nos Σ1-Σ133), meant to be worn as ornaments (J. HRUBY, “Identity and the Visual Identification of Seals,” in KOSMOS 389-395; YOUNGER).

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Aegean jewelry, dress, and personal adornment have progressively become a fruitful and exciting field of research. A plethora of monographs,2 collective volumes,3 overview articles,4 and a recent major exhibition in Athens,5 have shone light on the sophisticated apparatus of beauty in the Bronze Age. The technologies of adornment,6 encompassing technical chaînes opératoires, “aesthetic toolkits” of ornaments and embellishments,7 the cultural know-how of κόσμος, and the decorated human body itself, call for multilevel appreciation: as key elements in socioeconomic networks, points of reference in the community’s narratives and worldviews, vehicles for the transmission of important knowledge, components of personhood and identity, links of social integration but also marks of differentiation.8 Skeptics have dismissed ornaments in the form of figure-eight shield as repetitive applications, devoid of further meaning.9 Most scholars, however, admit a symbolic appeal embedded in the form, material, or color of such ornaments, or in the ways and contexts of their use.10 The latter approach finds support in the anthropological perspective on symbolism as an ever-evolving and -expanding web of associations, triggered by a symbol or sets of symbols and often connected only loosely to the original source. 11 The web of associations spun around the figure-eight shield is sketched below. Layers of meaning, layers of protection: The figure-eight shield in action12 The Aegean figure-eight shield was an important defensive weapon.13 Made of multiple layers of sturdy ox-hide14 for maximum endurance, its curvilinear format offered full body coverage in different positions and postures. Although this type of shield apparently went out of use in the 15th century B.C., it survived in Homeric descriptions (επταβόειος, αμφίβροτος) and in Greek armor (Dipylon and Boeotian shields).15 Alongside its protective utility, the figure-eight shield appears vested with multiple layers of meaning: 16 magic/apotropaic values; signification of sacred space; association with fertility and 2

3

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Examples: B.R. JONES, Ariadne’s Threads. The Construction and Significance of Clothes in the Aegean Bronze Age (2015); E. KONSTANTINIDI, Jewellery Revealed in the Burial Contexts of the Greek Bronze Age (2001); Schmuck; E. STEFANI, Η γυναικεία ενδυμασία στην ανακτορική Κρήτη. Πρόταση ανάγνωσης ενός κώδικα επικοινωνίας (2013). Examples: C.S. COLBURN and M.K. HEYN (eds), Reading a Dynamic Canvas. Adornment in the Ancient Mediterranean World (2008); KOSMOS. Beads; Jewelry; C. TELEVANTOU, “Κοσμήματα της προϊστορικής Θήρας,” AEph (1984) 14-54; YOUNGER. M. LAGOGIANNI-GEORGAKARAKOS (ed.), The Countless Aspects of Beauty in Ancient Art. National Archaeological Museum (2018), with many entries on the Aegean Bronze Age. M. NIKOLAIDOU, “Ritualized Technologies in the Aegean Neolithic? The Crafts of Adornment,” in E. KYRIAKIDIS (ed.), The Archaeology of Ritual (2007) 183-208. F. IFANTIDIS, Πρακτικές προσωπικής κόσμησης στη Νεολιθική Ελλάδα / Practices of Personal Adornment in Neolithic Greece (2019). Cf. C. COLBURN, “Bodily Adornment in the Early Bronze Age Aegean and Near East,” in KOSMOS 377; M. NIKOLAIDOU, “Ornament Production and Use at Sitagroi, Northeast Greece: Symbolic and Social Implications of an Early Bronze Age Technology,” in R. LAFFINEUR and P.P. BETANCOURT (eds), TEXNH. Craftsmen, Craftswomen and Craftsmanship in the Aegean Bronze Age. Proceedings of the 6th International Aegean Conference / 6e Rencontre égéenne internationale, Philadelphia, Temple University, 18-21 April 1996 (1997) 189. Notably M.P. NILSSON, The Minoan-Mycenaean Religion and its Survival in Greek Religion (19502) 410. Review of literature in Beads 280; CÀSSOLA-GUIDA 33-37; DANIELIDOU 82-83, 101. D. SPERBER, Rethinking Symbolism, translated in English by Alice L. Morton (1977). I owe the phrase to I. HODDER, Symbols in Action (1981). Compare A.-L. D’AGATA, “Late Minoan Crete and Horns of Consecration: A Symbol in Action,” in EIKON 247-259. CÀSSOLA-GUIDA 15 ff; DANIELIDOU 32-38. Ceremonial versions in cloth are suggested in M.C. SHAW, “Shields Made of Cloth? Interpreting a Wall Painting in the Mycenaean Palace at Pylos,” in KOSMOS 732-737. CÀSSOLA-GUIDA 18, 46-47; DANIELIDOU 36-48. Forschungsgeschichte in DANIELIDOU 82-96. Further, P. CÀSSOLA-GUIDA, “Le armi nel culto dei Micenei,” in Studi Triestini di antichità in onore di L.A. Stella (1975) 93-106; N. MARINATOS, Minoan

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regeneration, in the context of hunting, sacrifice, and cult of a Minoan nature goddess; an insignium or aniconic form of a warrior goddess; cultic status per se; emblem of (male) military elites; or even a reference image for heroic and mythical narratives.17 Though by no means mutually exclusive, the many interpretations – in tandem with the diverse deployment of the theme in art and iconography 18 – underline the iconic19 value of the Aegaean figure-eight shield, in whose material entity and imagery a multitude of concepts could be condensed.20 Such potent symbols assume further lives of their own, beyond the scope of the material originals; their connotations expand through time and across contexts.21 Indeed, much of the visual and symbolic elaboration of the figure-eight shield occurred AFTER the weapon itself became obsolete – that is, from the Late Bronze II onwards. Seal iconography (Pl. XXXIa-f) proved a fertile field of expression for the rich spectrum of figureeight-shield symbolisms, 22 including representational and narrative as well as autonomous or “hieroglyphic”23 formulations. The panorama is lavishly captured on the surfaces of metal (mostly gold) rings – and sealings thereof – that would grace the wrist or neck, enabling appreciation of their sophisticated and complex figural decoration. 24 Some compositions contain fused or ambiguous symbolisms, not least regarding gender: on the Mycenae ring (Pl. XXXIa), a “palladion” of unclear gender and age floats above a nature deity and her female adorants; sacrificial trophies and celestial bodies surround the scene. On the Vapheio ring (Pl. XXXIb), a large weaponry shield wrapped with garment and sword stands in a nature-focused ritual performance by a female and male “actor”, complete with floating symbols. Rehak reconstructed a shield motif, emblematic of a sacral female persona, on the now missing frontal part of the woman’s flounced garment.25 On the other hand, Crowley reads the visual formula of shield, military garment, and sword as a badge, even a pars pro toto, of agonistic and military prowess distinguishing men of rank. 26 Prime examples include representations of battle and hunt

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Sacrificial Ritual. Cult Practice and Symbolism (1986) 52-58; G. MYLONAS, Mycenae Rich in Gold (1983), 197198, 207; REHAK; IDEM, “The Mycenaean ‘Warrior Goddess’ Reconsidered,” in R. LAFFINEUR (ed.), POLEMOS. Le contexte guerrier en Egée à l’Âge du bronze. Actes de la 7e Rencontre égéenne internationale, Université de Liège, 14-17 avril 1998 (1999) 227-239; P. WARREN, “Shield and Goddess in Minoan Crete and the Aegean,” in Πεπραγμένα H´ Διεθνούς Κρητολογικού Συνεδρίου (Hράκλειο, 9-14 Σεπτεμβρίου 1996) A (2001) 457-470. F. BLAKOLMER, “The Silver Battle Krater from Shaft Grave IV at Mycenae: Evidence of Fighting ‘Heroes’ on Minoan Palace Walls at Knossos?,” in S.P. MORRIS and R. LAFFINEUR (eds), EPOS. Reconsidering Greek Epic and Aegean Bronze Age Archaeology. Proceedings of the 11th International Aegean Conference / 11e Rencontre égéenne internationale, Los Angeles, UCLA, The J. Paul Getty Villa, 20-23 April 2006 (2007) 213-224. Tabulated in DANIELIDOU 102-105. Iconicity refers to the formal, sensory, kinetic, or more abstract affinities between symbols and what they evoke or signify: T. GIVON, “Iconicity, Isomorphism, and Non-Arbitrary Coding in Syntax,” in Iconicity in Syntax. Proceedings of a Symposium on Iconicity in Syntax, Stanford, June 24-26, 1983 (1985)187-219. Similarly, C. MORRIS, “In Pursuit of the White Tusked Boar: Aspects of Hunting in Mycenaean Society,” in R. HÄGG and. G.C. NORDQUIST (eds), Celebrations of Death and Divinity in the Bronze Age Argolid (1990) 154-155; M. NIKOLAIDOU, “Materialized Myth and Ritualized Realities: Religious Symbolism on Minoan Pottery,” in E. ALRAM-STERN, F. BLAKOLMER, S. DEGER-JALKOTZY, R. LAFFINEUR, and J. WEILHARTNER (eds), METAPHYSIS. Ritual, Myth and Symbolism in the Aegean Bronze Age. Proceedings of the 15th International Aegean Conference, Vienna, Institute for Oriental and European Archaeology, Aegaean and Anatolia Department, Austrian Academy of Sciences and Institute of Classical Archaeology, University of Vienna, 22-25 April 2014 (2016) 97-108. V. TURNER, “Symbols in African Ritual,” in Symbolic Anthropology. A Reader in the Study of Symbols and Meanings (1977) 184. SPERBER (supra n. 11). Complete catalog in DANIELIDOU 109-161. REHAK 123. E. KYRIAKIDIS, “How to See the Minoan Signet Rings: Transformations in Minoan Miniature Iconography,” in KOSMOS 379-387. REHAK 120, fig. 14; no such element is included in the CMS description (CMS I 219). J. CROWLEY, “Prestige Clothing in the Bronze Age Aegean,” in KOSMOS 234-236.

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(snapshots of epic narratives?27) on sphragistic (Pl. XXXIc) and other prestige media, 28 as well as the “men with shields” talismanic formula (Pl. XXXId) on the seals of elite administrators. 29 The purported “maleness” of such imagery did not necessarily align with the gender of the ring’s holder, though. The owner of the Vapheio ring is recognized as a princely male based on his (?) rich burial goods of armor, including a bronze axe embossed with small shields. His (?) extraordinary collection of fine gems (heaped on the wrists) contains one featuring a lion hunter with eight-shield.30 On the other hand, the exalted occupant of Tholos A at Archanes is inferred to be female. She (?) was buried with a treasure of splendid jewelry, including a gold ring with emblematic shields and garments similar to the sealing of Pl. XXXIe, and a footstool inlaid with numerous ivory eight-shields and helmeted warriors, but without weaponry.31 On safer grounds, the gender ambivalence surrounding the rich eight-shield imagery from Circle A at Mycenae can be calibrated against paleoanthropological identification of the deceased’s sex (see below). Goddesses of war and hunt,32 and mortal huntresses,33 have been recognized both on Crete and the mainland. Women, however, only associate with shields and other weaponry in cultic scenes, such as processions (Pl. XXXIf), offerings, and veneration of arms and “palladia” – most famously, on the votive pinax from Mycenae depicting a female – (?) “palladion” and adorants.34 Alongside gender-related nuances, the confluence of aggressive and religious/ceremonial aspects in much of the figure-eight shield iconography, exemplify a broader tendency to “temper” warfare and other violent behaviors by social and ritual means.35 Turning to the rich published corpus of eight-shied–shaped ornaments and embellishments,36 I have selected artifacts that highlight important variations of the theme, in the longue durée and across space and contexts. It is interesting to see in this small survey how – contrary to the frequently assumed dependency of jewelry on monumental prototypes – the figure-eight shield first materialized in items of adornment, which likely provided the inspiration for subsequent large-scale formulations.

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BLAKOLMER (supra n. 17); J.L. CROWLEY, “The Icon Imperative: Rules of Composition in Aegaean Art,” in EIKON 28-29. R. LAFFINEUR, “Iconography as Evidence of Social and Political Status in Mycenaean Greece,” in EIKON 108-111. J. WEINGARTEN, “Seal-Use at Late Minoan Ib Ayia Triada: A Minoan Elite in Action. II: Aesthetic Considerations,” Kadmos 27 (1988) 102-103, 113-114. Burial: E. VERMEULE, Greece in the Bronze Age (19725) 127-130. Axe and seal: DANIELIDOU cat. nos M37 (227-228, Pl. 36), Σ 3 (110, Pl. 1), respectively G. SAKELLARAKIS and E. SAKELLARAKI, Αρχάνες (1991) 72-85, figs 59-60. Ring: CÀSSOLAGUIDA, Pl. VII:2. Supra n. 16. MORRIS (supra n. 19); G. MUSKETT, “Gender Boundaries in Late Bronze Age Greece: The Contribution of Dress,” in C. GALLOU, M. GEORGIADIS and G. MUSKETT (eds), DIOSKOUROI. Studies Presented to W.G. Cavanagh and C.B. Mee on the Anniversary of Their 30-Year Joint Contribution to Aegean Archaeology (2008) 90-96. MYLONAS (supra n. 16) 208, fig. 164. B.P.C. MOLLOY, “Martial Minoans? War as Social Process, Practice and Event in Bronze Age Crete,” BSA 107 (2012) 118-119, 131-133; M. NIKOLAIDOU and D. KOKKINIDOU, “The Symbolism of Violence in Late Bronze Age Palatial Societies of the Aegean: A Gender Approach,” in J. CARMAN (ed.), Material Harm. Archaeological Studies of War and Violence (1997) 188-191. CÀSSOLA GUIDA and DANIELIDOU document all Aegean jewelry, vessel appendages, and seal images up to the late 1990s; Schmuck focuses on the Minoan material, with contextual documentation and iconographic comparisons. Summaries of Mycenaean material in Beads 280, 288, fig. 2; E. BIELEFELD, Schmuck. Archaeologia Homerica I:C (1968) 29-31, fig. 4:s. Toiletry items are treated comprehensively in K. PAPEFTHYMIOU-PAPANTHIMOU, Σκεύη και σύνεργα καλλωπισμού στον κρητομυκηναϊκό χώρο (1979). Selected pieces are also included in K. DEMAKOPOULOU (ed.), Ο Μυκηναϊκός κόσμος. Πέντε αιώνες πρώιμου Ελληνικού πολιτισμού, 1600-1100 π.Χ. Εθνικό Αρχαιολογικό Μουσείο, 15 Δεκεμβρίου 1988-31 Μαρτίου 1989 (1988).

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In the beginning was the seal–bead/pendant Seals present their own ‘petit univers’ …, one whose scenes and even styles seem more to have influenced other media… than did the other media influence seals.37 John Younger’s observation is nicely exemplified by the eight-shield imagery, which first took the shape of perforated seals and remained an important theme in seal iconography. Sphragistic use, identity symbolism, and aesthetic value blended together in the seals and signet rings, which were meant to be worn as beads and pendants arranged in bracelets, necklaces, or anklets.38 Material, color, shape, mode of suspension, relation to other ornamental components, and placement on the body, all affected the desirability, visibility, and meaning of the seals-as-ornaments.39 The earliest examples are three seals of final prepalatial date (EM III-MM Ia), made of white paste and carved in the style of the Border/Leaf Complex characteristic of the period.40 Two are probably spolia from the Mesara cemeteries at Moni Odigitria41 and Ayios Onoufrios, respectively (Pl. XXXIIa, d); the third (Pl. XXXIb-c) is of unknown provenience but likely also originated in the Asterousia region, which specialized in the production of seals.42 They are sizeable43 figurative pieces of low plano-convex profile; two have an eight-shaped body and base, one is a recumbent quadruped (lion?) with its base carved into an eight-shape. All are perforated centrally across the body and above the base, in a manner that could be either suspended freely as pendant or worn as a bead with the flat surface against the skin. In the latter case the figurative shape would be aligned vertically and most clearly visible – as illustrated by the necklace of eight-shaped beads (seal-beads?) on a faience figure form Knossos (Pl. XXXIIk). Whereas the recumbent animal is known from other early seals,44 the Ayios Onoufrios piece is the only example of the type with the animal and eight forms fused; did the seal carver attempt a playful optical illusion here,45 by shaping the crouching figure’s underside into a stylized outline? The 3-D eightform of the other two seals does not have exact contemporary parallels, either.46 These unusual pieces would have stood out enough from other seals in the same broader categories of color (light-colored, versus dark-colored groups), material (soft vitreous pastes), and style (Border/Leaf Complex) to serve as distinguishing marks of identity and ownership.47 In addition to the exotic Egyptianizing quality shared by the faience/frit products of the Border/Leaf stylistic group,48 the novel eight-form of these three seals may have signified additional prestige deriving from access to innovation and/or specialized knowledge. The seal from Ayios Onoufrios is especially noteworthy because it blends an Egypt-inspired icon of power, the lion,49 with the even rarer eight-form. The latter seems also to be a foreign novelty, to judge from the gold 37 38 39

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J. YOUNGER, The Iconography of Late Minoan and Mycenaean Sealstones and Finger Rings (1988) xiv. YOUNGER. HRUBY (supra n. 1); compare W. MÜLLER, “Concepts of Value in the Aegean Bronze Age: Some Remarks on the Use of Precious Materials for Seals and Finger Rings,” in KOSMOS 464. Material and style are discussed in K. SBONIAS, “Seals from the Cemetery,” in A. VASILAKIS and K. BRANIGAN (eds), Moni Odigitria. A Prepalatial Cemetery and its Environs in the Asterousia, Southern Crete (2010) 216-221; P. YULE, Early Cretan Seals. A Study of Chronology (1981) 194, 209-210. A large number of seals, including the largest excavated assemblage of pieces, came from the various sectors of the cemetery: SBONIAS (supra n. 40) 201-309. Ibid. 223. The three pieces have very similar dimensions: L. 0.014-0.015 m, W. 0.006-0.010 m, Th. 0.006-0.0007 m. YULE (supra n. 40) 97-98 (shape class 33;j). Compare KYRIAKIDIS (supra n. 24). YULE (supra n. 40) 101 lists, but does not illustrate, one example of eight-shield-shaped seal of serpentine (EM II-MM III) in his class of miscellaneous shapes (no. 34j). He does not mention the pieces discussed here. Compare HRUBY (supra n. 1) 394. YULE (supra n. 40) 210. J. WEINGARTEN, “How Many Seals Make a Heap: Seals and Interconnections on Prepalatial Crete,” in R. LAFFINEUR and E. GRECO (eds), EMPORIA. Aegeans in the Central and Eastern Mediterranean.

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brooches in figure-eight shield shape from an elite tomb at Alaca Hüyük, dating to the late third millennium B.C. (Pl. XXXIIg). Rutkowski50 sees in those Anatolian ornaments the first visual formulation of the two interconnected circles: a simple, evocative form with cosmic and magic symbolisms in many cultures. It would not be surprising if the same concept caught the attention of Aegean travelers and crafters in the open-minded world of late third-millennium Mediterranean,51 who then translated the idea into the intimate medium of personal seals-ornaments. Like the eight-shield jewelry from Alaca, these eight-shaped Minoan seals accompanied their owner to the grave – potent amulets as well as insignia of rank and affiliation?52 It is worth noting the variations of the common eight-theme from one seal to another, in the particulars of body shape, outline and filling ornaments of the sphragistic surface. Did people feel the need to “personalize” this attractive novelty while also enjoying a privileged (?) commonality with a few regional peers, privy to the same symbolic goods?53 Contrary to the Alaca brooches that can be plausibly recognized as images of figure-eight shields – complete with an attachment pin which forms the distinctive central ridge of the weapon –,54 the early Minoan seals bear a looser resemblance to an assumed early prototype in weaponry 55 and to the standardized depictions thereof in later periods. For one thing, the profusion of filling designs on the eightformed sealing surface creates an ambivalent visual effect, as it both enriches the shape and somewhat distracts from the clarity of its outline. These first Aegaean attempts perhaps aimed to capture the more abstract form of interconnected circles – apparently an important enough principle to call for iconic representation – rather than to reproduce a specific artifact such as the shield. Rutkowski has indeed proposed56 that the visual and semantic power of the two interconnected circles/eight-form preceded and inspired the later shape of the large protective shield. Already imbued with symbolic qualities, this weapon was successively incorporated into the entity of a fertility deity, became identified with the persona of a warrior goddess, and eventually lent back its protective capacities to sheltering and amuletic notions—a spiral of symbolic association. In this light we can appreciate the later survivals (for example, Pl. XXXIIe) of the perforated eight-shape first seen in the prepalatial seal-beads. The rich ornamental filling of the sealing surface is also echoed in a LM I “talismanic” seal-bead of carnelian (Pl. XXXIIf), the eight-shape of which is unique among the seals of that period. The first clearly recognizable image of an eight-shield in the Aegean (similar to the earlier examples from Alaca Hüyük) appears on the single sphragistic surface of a protopalatial (MM II) “steatite” seal attributed to the Malia Workshop (Pl. XXXIIh). The seal’s plano-convex shape and absence of a stringhole are atypical for this stylistic group which specialized in the production of perforated prisms57 – unless this piece, too, is an unfinished elongated prism. On the other hand, the large and simply outlined shield is consistent with the simple pictorial or “hieroglyphic” motifs that were favored by the workshop’s engravers, including religious and symbolic elements58 on prisms both of ceremonial and of administrative

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Proceedings of the 10th International Aegean Conference / 10e Rencontre égéenne internationale, Athens, Italian School of Archaeology, 14-18 April 2004 (2005) 765. B. RUTKOWSKI, Frühgriechische Kultdarstellungen (1981) 106. Recently, COLBURN (supra n. 8). On seals as grave goods, see A. BLASINGHAM, “The Seals from the Tombs of the Mesara: Inferences as to Kinship and Social Organization,” in O. KRZYSKOWSKA and L. NIXON (eds), Minoan Society. Proceedings of the Cambridge Colloquium 1981 (1983) 11-19. SBONIAS (supra n. 40, 223-224) sees a manufacturing centre of seals at Moni Odigitria, from where some products reached other sites in the Asterousia and beyond, by mechanisms of regional hierarchy. Such ridge appears consistently in later Aegean renditions, too, which remain remarkably faithful to the structural features of the weapon (DANIELIDOU 57-66). In a rather circular argument, DANIELIDOU (50-51) argues for the early existence of the weapon based on the Middle Minoan seal imagery. Supra n. 50 YULE (supra n. 40) 212-213 summarizes the technical and iconographic features of this group. NIKOLAIDOU (supra n. 19) 5-9.

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function.59 This “hieroglyphic” shield image, a shorthand yet quite accurate rendition of an actual weapon’s distinct features of double-curved shape and central ridge, occupies most of the sealing face in an emblematic way. It is essentially a miniature forerunner of the monumental shield imagery on palatial pottery and frescoes of later periods. A three-sided steatite prism (Pl. XXXIIi), also a product of the Malia Workshop, ushers in another important variation: the small floating eight-shield that consists of two circles connected by a short central stem, as a background element of representational or narrative scenes. In this case, the shield accompanies the rather unusual subject of two mating goats, in an early suggestive association with sexuality/fertility, the animal world and, by extension, sacrifice.60 Αll these ideas were developed and elaborated in the periods to follow. Ritualized ornaments and gendered bodies From the onset of the Neopalatial period, the eight-shield imagery kept expanding across materials and artifact types. Some innovative finds in luxurious faience come from the early (MM IIIB) phases of the second palace at Knossos. Five small eight-shield effigies and a miniature bowl embossed with four shields around the rim (Pl. XXXIIj) belonged to the rich deposit of the Temple Repositories;61 this assemblage was replete with symbolisms of nature, regeneration, and nurturing – most eloquently illustrated in the plaques of suckling calves and baby goats with their mothers –, as befitted the goddess venerated in the Central Palace Sanctuary. The painted structural details on each effigy’s body foreshadow the manner of the eight-shield frescoes at Mycenaean Knossos and elsewhere. The minuscule vase, perhaps originally covered with gold foil,62 initiates a long-lived fashion of eight-shield-shaped appendages on the rim or upper body of vessels – mostly alabastra and pyxides – in various materials and sizes.63 The first representation of the eight-shield adorning the human body is seen on four small faience plaques/inlays from a cultic (?) cist-deposit underneath the South Propylaeum.64 Each plaque bears a relief female wearing a string of shield-shaped beads, dressed in ritual attire and with hands resting above the breasts (Pl. XXXIIk). The shield-beads of the figures are arranged vertically around the neck, in a fashion known from actual ornaments (Pl. XXXIIIc and e). Interestingly, these miniature depictions predate any real beads, pendants and other eight-shaped ornaments (the earliest of which belong to the LM IA/LH IA),65 images of eight-shields worn by warriors, and “palladia” (Pl. XXXI). They are also exceptional as one of only two cases of people wearing jewelry in Aegean iconography;66 the other is a Mycenaean (LH IIIB:2) cult figure from Midea with a small eight-shield on her chest,67 her gesture 59

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J.-C. POURSAT, “Fonction et usage des sceaux en Crète à l’ époque des premiers palais,” in I. PINI (ed.), Fragen und Probleme der bronzezeitlichen ägäischen Glyptik. Beiträge zum 3. Internationalen Marburger Siegel-Symposium, 5.-7. September 1985 (1989) 223. MARINATOS, REHAK (supra n. 16). M. PANAYIOTAKI, The Central Palace Sanctuary at Knossos (1999) 90-93, cat. nos 193.1-5 and 197, respectively. Panayiotaki underlines the connection of shields with the cult of a nature goddess. Ibid 93. DANIELIDOU, Pls 19, 20, 30-31. PM II2 699-702. LM IA-IB: A silver bead and two bronze buttons (?) from the cave tomb at Poros, Herakleion (DANIELIDOU 225-226, cat. nos M 31-33; Schmuck 190-191, cat. nos HP 4a-b); LH IA: golden “palladion” pendant and silver rings from the Shaft Graves, gold-and-lapis ring from the “Aegina Treasure” (see below). The scarce depiction of shield-ornaments contrasts strongly with both the representations of other jewelry types on people (see Jewelry) and with the relative abundance of actual jewelry in eight-shield form (supra n. 1). K. DEMAKOPOULOU, “A Mycenaean Terracota Figure from Midea in the Argolid,” in P.P. BETANCOURT, V. KARAGEORGIS, R. LAFFINEUR and W.-D. NIEMEIER (eds), MELETEMATA. Studies in Aegean Archaeology Presented to Malcolm H. Wiener as He Enters His 65th Year (1999) 197-205. The motif in question is not described as an eight-shield in Demakopoulou’s publication, but is

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remarkably similar to that of her earlier Minoan counterparts (Pl. XXXIVe). Though separated by time and space, these two pictorial examples are nevertheless linked by their common display of eight-shield adornments in connection with females and ritual. Precious Knossian vessels bearing small, bead-like68 eight-shield attachments, including the early faience bowl discussed above and the final Neopalatial (LM II-IIIA) stone alabastra from the Throne Room,69 possibly embodied similar connotations, in the context of palatial cults dedicated to female deities. Eight-shield ornaments feature prominently in the rich burials of the Shaft Graves (LM/LH IA). In Circle B, Grave O contained a unique gold pendant in the form of a helmeted “palladion,” the central element in a necklace consisting of stylized bird-shaped beads (Pl. XXXIIIa). The first example of a wellknown iconographic type,70 this pendant shows novelties in material and technique (hammered gold sheet over a cork or clay core), iconographic principle (anthropomorphic rendering of the figure-eight shield),71 and the “Boeotian” form of the shield; the latter is also seen in a roughly contemporary gold ring, inlaid with lapis lazuli, from the so-called Aegina Treasure (Pl. XXXIIIb). Although the gender of the “palladion” pendant is not immediately apparent, contextual and iconographic association imply that it might have been female. The necklace to which this ornament belonged, graced an individual who has been plausibly identified as a woman on the basis of her (?) array72 of diadems,73 earrings and dress-fastener pins.74 In addition, the incised rosette disks decorating the two lobes of the “palladion’s” body compare with the large rosette-shaped appliques/garment attachments and the rosette designs on diadems from several burials, including Grave O itself.75 Interestingly, this is the only burial in Circle B that contains a figureeight shield – here full embedded in the lavish and “cosmopolitan” apparatus of a noblewoman (?).76 By contrast, the eight-shield appears in more explicitly masculine/agonistic iconography among the burials in Circle A.77 Among the splendid finds of Grave III were two silver rings with a shield-shaped bezel, the gold cushion featuring a shield-bearing combatant in duel (Pl. XXXIc), a karneol amygdaloid with a similar theme (CMS I 12), and a relief fragment of a faience vase depicting a warrior with helmet and eight-shield. There is no information as to the association of these finds with any of the dead, including two males, two possible females and a sub-adult, and a woman of very high priestly(?) rank – possibly the mother of the gold-shrouded infant laid on her body.78 However, the concentration of most

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recognized as such in V. PLIATSIKA, “Simply Divine: The Jewellery, Dress and Body Adornment of the Mycenaean Clay Female Figures in Light of New Evidence from Mycenae,” in KOSMOS 616. Pliatsika comments on the rarity of pendant depictions on Mycenaean figures. Following John Younger’s treatment of bejewelled objects (Jewelry 274-275), it is tempting to consider the small, appendages on the upper body of vessels of costly material and/or form as the equivalent of shieldshaped adornments on the human body. R. HÄGG, “The Last Ceremony in the Throne Room at Knossos,” OpAth 17 (1988) 99-105; REHAK. Comprehensive discussion of palladia in DANIELIDOU 84-90, with references, DANIELIDOU, 224 cat. no. M29 mentions as parallel a palladion figurine from a 15th-14th century Mycenaean stratum at Gezer, Palestine. The skeleton itself (the last occupant of the grave) was completely decayed but her (?) precious possessions survived (G.E. MYLONAS, Grave Circle B at Mycenae [1964] 5, figs 6-7). A special association of diadems with women in the shaft graves had already been suggested by Karo (G. KARO, Die Schachtgräber von Mykenai [1930] 184), and it has been confirmed by the recent skeletal analysis and sex identification of the remains (O.T.P.K. DICKINSON, L. PAPAZOGLOU-MANIOUDAKI, A. NAFPLIOTI and A.J.N.W. PRAG, “Mycenae Revisited Part 4: Assessing the New Data,” BSA 107 [2012] 16-17). The position of the necklace by the skull of Grave O (MYLONAS [supra n. 72]), suggests that it, too, possibly was a head ornament. J. HAAT-LEBEGYEV, “Constructions of Gendered Identity Through Jewellery in Early Mycenaean Greece,” in KOSMOS 425-432. Illustrated in MYLONAS (supra n. 16) fig. 44. The exquisite exotica of this burial included a unique duck-shaped cosmetics bowl, necklaces of amber, amethyst and carnelian, faience pendants, gold- and rock crystal-headed pins (MYLONAS [supra n. 16] 54, figs 43-44; IDEM [supra n. 72]). KARO (supra n. 73). All the items with figure-eight shield are listed in P. CÀSSOLA-GUIDA 20-21. DICKINSON et al. (supra n. 73) 13-14; L. PAPAZOGLOU-MANIOUDAKI, A. NAFPLIOTI, J.H.

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goods in the central female burial – including the silver pin with the gold goddess-figure as a head, two spectacular gold diadems, and gold cutouts in the shape of male and female adorants and shrines – suggests that at least some of the shield-bearing artifacts belonged to her. Grave IV included a silver rhyton in the shape of an eight-shield, the silver Siege Rhyton with shield buttons flanking the handle, a silver krater with a battle scene featuring eight-shield-bearing warriors, a gold miniature shield (bead79 or attachment to a vessel80), a niello dagger with shield-bearing men in hunt, and a dagger decorated with relief eight-shields. Of these artifacts, only the silver krater with battle scene is certainly associated with a male, skeleton O.81 Three males and two or three probable females were identified, and many rich gifts (including gold rings with battle scenes) clustered between skeletons Ρ and Σ – the latter, a probable female.82 In both Shaft Grave Circles, male skeletons significantly outnumber the female ones.83 A malefocused iconography dominates the burial goods of both sexes, with depictions of men in action versus static images of women;84 to the latter we can perhaps add the female (?) “palladion” from Grave O. On the other hand, the frequent incorporation of imagery related to battle and competition into the apparatus of adornment implies a “subtext” of women, who seem to have worn much of this jewelry, 85 appropriating the dominant ideology. In the graves of the late palatial Minoan and early Mycenaean nobility (LM/LH II-IIIA), we see an explosion and standardization of the eight-shield iconography across many forms of adornment. Exalted status overshadows gender and age boundaries. High-ranking women possessing shield-shaped ornaments have been recognized, albeit solely on the basis of finds, among the LM IIIA royal burials at Archanes. The princess-priestess (?) in Tholos A was mentioned above. The occupant of the slightly later (LM IIIA:2) Tholos Δ86 owned a necklace featuring an extraordinary assortment of gold beads and an eight-shield– shaped, central bead-pendant of rock crystal (Pl. XXXIIIc). The necklace was kept together with other valuables in a large clay pyxis, decorated with painted double axes and placed by the body. The lady (?) herself was splendidly arrayed in jewelry and dress accessories of gold, sardium, faience, blue glass and amber, and held a bronze mirror in front of her (?) face – a unique gesture among Aegean burials.87 From the (likely) male burial in Tholos A at Kakovatos comes an eight-shaped spacer bead of amber (Pl. XXXIIId), which was strung together with numerous other pieces onto what Maran has reconstructed as a leather shoulder belt for the sword of an elite warrior. 88 Although the little spacer was only one among many differently shaped amber components, its eight-form may have added an extra protective layer to the potent defensive qualities with which amber seems to have been imbued, and which rendered it appropriate as both an ornament and an item of elite armor.89

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MUSGRAVE and A.J.N.W PRAG, “Mycenae Revisited Part 3, The Human Remains from Grave Circle a at Mycenae. Behind the Masks: A Study of the Bones of Shaft Graves I–V,” BSA 105 (2010) 159161, 172-180. E. KONSTANTINIDI-SYVRIDI and K. PASCHALIDIS, “Life and Death at Mycenae at the End of the Prepalatial Period,” in Myceneans Up to Date. The Archaeology of Northeastern Peloponnese - Current Concepts and New Directions (2015) 410. KARO (supra n. 73) 120 cat. no. 608:d. PAPAZOGLOU-MANIOUDAKI et al. (supra n. 78) 162. DICKINSON et al. (supra n. 73) 15-18; PAPAZOGLOU-MANIOUDAKI et al. (supra n. 78) 161-163, 183-200. PAPAZOGLOU-MANIOUDAKI et al. (supra n. 78) 214. S. VOUTSAKI, “Age and Gender in the Southern Greek Mainland, 2000-1500 B.C,” Ethnographisch Archäologische Zeitschrift 46 (2004) 358-359. Cf. HAAT-LEBEGYEV (supra n. 74). SAKELLARAKIS and SAKELLARAKI (supra n. 31) 128-135, figs 105-111. K. PASCHALIDIS, “Reflections of Eternal Beauty: The Unpublished Context of a Wealthy Female Burial from Koukaki, Athens and the Occurrence of Mirrors in Mycenaean Tombs,” in KOSMOS 533. J. MARAN, “Bright as the Sun: The Appropriation of Amber Objects in Mycenaean Greece,” in H.P. HAHN and H. WEISS (eds), Mobility, Meaning, and the Transformations of Things (2013) 152-155. On amber, MARAN [supra n. 88] 158-159.

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Strings of identity A more intimate story of familial ties and affection is told by an amethyst necklace of shield-shaped and spherical beads, from a Mycenaean child burial at Argos (Pl. XXXIIIe).90 Exceptional care and wealth were lavished on this toddler, who was placed alone in an elaborate large grave (undisturbed by later burials) with many fine vessels, miniatures including alabastra, and costly pieces of heirloom jewelry.91 The amethyst necklace, in particular, was a truly extravagant gift: beyond the rarity of the material and the benevolent symbolism of the form, the unusually large size of the beads92 implies an added socioeconomic importance, as portable item of barter.93 The largesse of dedicating an entire string of such precious beads to a single grave is also unusual, although not unique;94 more often, beads occur isolated or in low numbers.95 The necklace and other high-quality offerings of this burial bespeak as much the love and grief for a prematurely perished offspring as they testify to the legacy of a prominent family. An attractive string of blue eight-shield-shaped beads from the Kadmeion in Thebes (Pl. XXXIVa) exemplifies the presence of the theme in the thriving industry of mold-made glass ornaments,96 of which palatial Thebes was a major manufacturing center.97 There are many examples of eight-shield motifs on the distinctly Mycenaean type of relief glass-beads,98 which were arranged in necklaces or diadems.99 Manufactured for indigenous use rather than export, these coveted ornaments apparently carried strong connotations of ethnicity, regardless of age and gender. 100 One such necklace from the Uluburun shipwreck (Pl. XXXIVb) has been identified as the ethnic and/or official badge of a Mycenaean emissary or envoy – presumably a man – aboard the ship. Another Mycenaean has been recognized on the basis of a second string, that one featuring the hair-lock motif.101 The wide geographical distribution of such necklaces, from the Ionian islands to Rhodes, 102 bears eloquent testimony to the shared aesthetics, technologies, and symbolism that converged in the long-revered eight-shield form. Final touches: Buttons and other attachments One last category of shield-shaped items merits attention. Mostly made of ivory (Pl. XXXIVc) but also of metal, stone (Pl. XXXIVd) and glass, they are usually described as pendants.103 However, they 90 91 92 93 94

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D. KAZA-PAPAGEORGIOU, “An Early Mycenaean Cist Grave form Argos,” AM 100 (1985) 1-21. The ornaments date to LH I-II, while the pottery to LH II-III A (ibid.). Jewelry 263 no. 17. While most amethyst beads and seals are very small, these measure more than 2 cm. Jewelry 267-268. Necklaces of shield-beads: DANIELIDOU 221-222 cat. nos M 19, 23 (gold), 238-242 cat. nos Y1-4, 7, 12, 14 (glass). Isolated shield-beads: DANIELIDOU 196-200, 207-212, 217-226, 239-243. Deposition of single pieces perhaps echoes a custom of splitting composite ornaments and dividing the parts among family members (cf. Beads 291). G. NIGHTINGALE, “Mycenaean Glass Beads: Jewellery and Design,” in Annales du 14e Congrès de l’Association Internationale pour l’Histoire du Verre, Italia, Venezia-Milano 1998 (2000) 8 fig. 1:24 A. DAKOURI-HILD, “Making La Différence: The Production and Consumption of Ornaments in Late Bronze Age Boeotia,” in KOSMOS 471-481. A LM II jewelry mold from Knossos bears a small eightshield (DANIELIDOU Pl. 32: Λ34) K. NIKITA, “Mycenaean Glass Beads: Technology, Forms, and Function,” in Ornaments from the Past. Bead Studies After Beck (2003) 29-31; supra n. 95-96. D. PANAGIOTOPOULOS, “Würdezeichen auf dem Haupt,” in H.-G. BUCHHOLZ, Erkennungs-, Rang- und Würdezeichen. Archaeologia Homerica I:D (2012) 146-147, fig. 64. Beads 291. K. PULAK, “The Uluburun Shipwreck and Late Bronze Age Trade,” in J. ARUZ, K. BENZEL and J.M. EVANS (eds), Beyond Babylon. Art, Trade and Diplomacy in the Second Millennium B.C. (2008) 300-302, 375-376 cat. no. 239 (shield-beads), 384 cat. no. 246 (lock-beads). Supra n. 94. DANIELIDOU 197-199 (cat. nos E39-47 [ivory]), 212 (cat. no. Λ 33 [stone]), 220 and 226 (cat. nos M17,

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share an important formal detail that differentiates them from the majority of centrally or eccentrically perforated ornaments: on their rear surface they bear a vertical strap, bar or perforated loop, which provides a convenient slot for a string or thong to pass through but is rather awkward for pendant-like suspension. The illustrated ivory example from Mycenae, correctly recognized by Wardle as a button or toggle,104 has three small holes drilled into the strap for better string attachment. Most pieces date to the LH III A-III B:2 and come from rich tombs and palaces on the mainland.105 The ivory ones average four to five centimeters in height (smaller and larger sizes are seen in other materials), thus they are rather large for buttons but suitable as clasps or buckles for belts and garments. An idea as to how such pieces might have been worn is provided by the aforementioned “Lady of Midea” (Pl. XXXIVe),106 who wears a vertical eight-shield element on her chest. Contrary to the pendants or necklaces of other painted figures, which are suspended from a band around the neck,107 this piece seems sewn or attached just below the neckline of the figure’s dress, at the upper end of a central seam (?) line that runs down the torso and joins the diagonal folds (?) of the blouse. If our interpretation is correct, these small artifacts of eight-shield shape make an interesting addition to the attractive assortment of Mycenaean buttons, clips and belt buckles of precious materials, which have recently been identified by experimental replication of “inconspicuous” small finds in museum storerooms.108 Marianna NIKOLAIDOU

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M 33 [metal]), 240 (cat. no. Y8 [glass]). Following earlier scholars, Danielidou describes the little strap as a faithful representation of the handle (όχανον) of an actual figure-eight shield. K.A. WARDLE, “A Group of Late Helladic IIIB 2 Pottery from Mycenae: The ‘Causeway Deposit’,” BSA 68 (1973) 339-340, Pl. 61a. Exceptions are the steatite piece from the “School Room” at Knossos and a LM II (?) bronze example form the rock-cut tomb at Poros, Herakleion (DANIELIDOU cat. nos Λ 33 and M 33, respectively). The mainland breakdown is ivory: Mycenae (5), Pylos (1), Tiryns (1), Menidi (1), Spata (1); gold: Thorikos (1); glass: Mycenae (1). Supra n. 67. PLIATSIKA (supra n. 67) 616, Pl. CL E. KONSTANTINIDI-SYVRIDI, “Buttons, Pins, Clips, and Belts… ‘Inconspicuous’ Dress Accessories from the Burial Context of the Mycenaean Period (16th-12th cent. B.C.),” in M. HARLOW, M. CÉCILE, and M.-L. NOSCH (eds), Prehistoric, Ancient Near Eastern and Aegean Textiles and Dress. An Interdisciplinary Anthology (2014) 143-157.

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Marianna NIKOLAIDOU LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Pl. XXXIa Pl. XXXIb Pl. XXXIc Pl. XXXId

Gold ring from Mycenae, Ramp House on the Akropolis. LM/LH I-II (CMS I 17-1). Gold ring from the tholos tomb at Vapheio, CMS I 219. LM IA-B (REHAK, 120, fig. 14). Gold ring from Mycenae, Shaft Grave III. LH I (CMS I 11-1). Metal ring sealing (two mended fragments) from Knossos Palace, Archives Deposit. LM I (?) (CMS II8 276-1). Pl. XXXIe Metal ring sealing from Knossos Palace, Archives Deposit. LMI (CMS II8 127-1). Pl. XXXIf Rock crystal lentoid from Mycenae, Panagia cemetery, Tomb 103. LM/LH II-IIIA:1 (CMS I 132-1). Pl. XXXIIa Eight-shaped, from Moni Odigitria, cemetery (?) (CMS VS1A 219-3). Pl. XXXIIb-c Eight-shaped, provenience unknown; Berlin, Collection Grumach (CMS-XI 075 3 Sp1). Pl. XXXIId Crouching animal with eight-shaped base, from Ayios Onoufrios, tholos (?) (CMS II1 114-1). Pl. XXXIIe Agate seal (?)-bead; unknown provenience (CMS VII 132 Sp2). Pl. XXXIIf Carnelian talismanic seal from Herakleion, Vagionia Monofatsiou; stray find. LM I (CMS II4 189-3). Pl. XXXIIg Gold brooch from Alaca Hüyük, late 3rd millennium. (RUTKOWSKI [supra n. 50] fig. 32:1). Pl. XXXIIh “Steatite” seal from Knossos, Palace. MM II (CMS II2 032-1). Pl. XXXIIi Three-sided steatite prism from Crete. MM II (CMS II2 306a-1). Pl. XXXIIj Faience votive bowl embossed with figure-eight shields. Knossos Palace, Temple Repositories. MM IIIB (REHAK 117, fig. 3). Pl. XXXIIk Faience figure wearing necklace of eight-shield beads. Knossos Palace, South Propylaeum. MM IIIB (PM II2 702, fig. 440). Pl. XXXIIIa Gold necklace with “palladion” pendant. Mycenae, Grave Circle B, Grave O. LM/LH IA (DANIELIDOU, Pl. 35: M29). Pl. XXXIIIb Gold ring inlaid with lapis lazuli, from the “Aegina Treasure”. 17th-16th century B.C. (DANIELIDOU 218, Pl. 34:M9). Pl. XXXIIIc Gold necklace with shield pendant of rock crystal. Archanes, Tholos Tomb Δ. LM IIIA:2 (SAKELLARAKIS and SAKELLARAKI [supra n. 31] 135, fig. 111). Pl. XXXIIId Amber bead from Kakovatos, Tholos A. LH II. (after DEMAKOPOULOU [supra n. 36] 262 cat. no. 283). Pl. XXXIIIe Amethyst necklace from a child burial at Argos. LH I-II (grave context, LH II-IIIA) (after DEMAKOPOULOU [supra n. 36] 221 cat. no. 201). Pl. XXXIVa Blue glass necklace from New Kadmeion, Thebes. LH IIIB (DANIELIDOU Pl. 42: Y4). Pl. XXXIVb Blue glass relief beads from the Uluburun Shipwreck. LH III (after PULAK [supra 101] 376 cat. no. 239). Pl. XXXIVc Ivory button or toggle. Mycenae, Citadel, South House. LH IIIB:2 (WARDLE [supra n. 104] Pl. 61a). Pl. XXXIVd Lapis lazuli button. Knossos Palace, “School Room”. LM IIIA-B (PM III 316 fig. 207). Pl. XXXIVe “Lady of Midea”, Mycenaean cult figure. LH IIIB:2 (DEMAKOPOULOU [supra n. 67] Pl. XLIf). CMS images courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg.

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MINOAN “WARRIOR GRAVES”: MILITARY IDENTITY, CULTURAL INTERACTIONS, AND THE ART OF PERSONAL ADORNMENT8 Within Late Minoan and Subminoan burials on Crete, the association of jewellery with weaponry, tools, and other metal artefacts supports evidence for ‘Warrior Graves’ with links to the Greek mainland and beyond. Burials containing weapons and other paraphernalia that might be used in warfare or combat include an array of adornment items that offer clear indications of the deceased individual’s personal, social, and cultural identity, in addition to what might be determined about their military status. This discussion aims to explore fundamental issues regarding how items of adornment might indicate personal identity, social status and environment, and the interconnections between Crete and other areas of the Mediterranean. Introduction The phenomenon of so-called Aegean warrior graves, and the relationship of weaponry, associated military paraphernalia, and personal adornment in reaffirming the elite status of the warrior in death, has been treated to considerable debate.1 It is during the LM II-LM IIIA period that the Palace of Knossos is thought to have been controlled by Mycenaeans from the Greek mainland. These so-called ‘warrior burials’ were perhaps the graves of those who formed the entourage of a Mycenaean king of Knossos, as may be referred to in Linear B tablets.2 These graves provide insights into a new elite after the destructions of ca 1450 B.C. Following the subsequent palatial collapse of the LM IIIB period, the continued burial of individuals with weapons into the LM IIIC and SM periods suggests that the association of military ∗ 1

2

It is a pleasure and an honour to dedicate this paper to John Younger with great admiration for his many important contributions to the field of Aegean archaeology, particularly those that focus on dress and jewellery. I also thank Brent Davis for providing valuable comments on an earlier draft. Studies of the warrior graves on Crete are numerous; amongst these are: W. CAVANAGH and C. MEE, A Private Place. Death in Prehistory (1998); I. KILIAN-DIRLMEIER, “Elitäres Verhalten vom Ende der Bronzezeit bis zum der Eisenzeit,” in N. DIMOUDIS and A. KYRIATSOULIS (eds), The History of the Hellenic Language and Writing From the Second to the First Millennium BC. Break or Continuity? Conference held at Ohlstadt/Oberbayern 3-6 October 1996 (1998); P. REHAK and J. YOUNGER, “Neopalatial, Final Palatial, and Postpalatial Crete,” AJA (1998) 152-153; S. DEGER-JALKOTZY, “Military Prowess and Social Status in Mycenaean Greece,” in R. LAFFINEUR (ed.), POLEMOS. Le contexte guerrier en Égée à l’Âge du Bronze (1999); T.J. PAPADOPOULOS, “Warrior-Graves in Achaean Mycenaean Cemeteries,” in LAFFINEUR ed. (supra); I. MOSCHOS, “Western Achaea during the LH IIIC Period: Approaching the Latest Rxcavation Evidence,” in E. GRECO (ed.), Gli Achei e l’identità etnica degli Achei d’Occidente (2002); B. EDER, “Patterns of Contact and Communication between the Regions South and North of the Corinthian Gulf in LH IIIC,” in N. KYPARISSI and M. PAPAKONSTANTINOU (eds), The Periphery of the Mycenaean World (2003); A. KANTA, “Aristocrats – Traders – Emigrants – Settlers: Crete in the Closing Phases of the Bronze Age,” in N. STAMPOLIDIS and V. KARAGEORGHIS (eds), Ploes … Sea Routes ... Interconnections in the Mediterranean 16th6th c. BC (2003); T.G. GIANNOPOULOS, “ “One Ring to Bind Them”. The Chamber Tomb of Monodendri in Achaea and the Missing Piece of an Interesting Puzzle,” in E. BORGNA and P. CÀSSOLA GUIDA (eds), From the Aegean to the Adriatic. Social Organisations, Modes of Exchange and Interaction in the Post-Palatial Times (2009); I. MOSCHOS, “Evidence of Social Re-Organization and Reconstruction in Late Helladic IIIC Achaea and Modes of Contacts and Exchange Via the Ionian and Adriatic Sea,” in BORGNA and CÀSSOLA GUIDA eds (supra); B. MOLLOY, “Martial Minoans? War as a Social Process, Practice and Event in Bronze Age Crete,” BSA 107 (2012). J. DRIESSEN and C. MACDONALD, “Some Military Aspects of the Aegean in the Late Fifteenth and Early Fourteenth Centuries BC,” BSA 79 (1984) 49.

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paraphernalia with elite or warrior identity persisted. One might view the grave goods that accompanied these individuals, particularly metal weapons and tools when in combination with objects for personal grooming and adornment, as elite symbols that reflect a warrior ideology beyond their functional role in life, likely as symbols in the reaffirmation of authority or special status.3 The presence of such burials from LM II-LM IIIA contexts arguably represents mainland customs and, as noted above, possible evidence for the presence of an intrusive martial population, in traditions that continue into the SM period;4 however, warrior burials at Knossos are also argued to represent an indigenous practice that commenced in the Early Minoan period.5 There are competing views that the impact of cultural interactions in Crete is the result of acculturation processes, whereby both the Minoans and Mycenaeans may have manipulated symbols of power to create a cultural hybrid.6 However, aside from the question of whether these burials are those of Mycenaeans or of Mycenaeanised Minoans, of interest here are the material expressions of warrior identity and the participation of communities in the constructed representation of the individual through mortuary ritual.7 By placing the emphasis on the transformation of the body through adornment, rather than on the use of adornment in static social displays, we can examine active community engagements in the identity construction and maintenance of their dead. Burials with weapons and military paraphernalia On Crete, there are at least 69 graves containing weapons or military paraphernalia from the LM II to SM periods.8 Of these burials, the majority is from LM IIIA contexts (23), while lesser quantities come from LM II contexts (7), LM IIIB contexts (5), and LM IIIC contexts (6). There are also burials whose dates are indeterminate within the LM III period: LM IIIA-LM IIIB (17), LM IIIB-LM IIIC (2), and one burial dated to LM IIIA-LM IIIC. The tradition of warrior burials continues into the Subminoan period (7), with one burial also dated to LM IIIC-SM.9 A total of 33 of these 69 burials (47%) also contain items of adornment.

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L. PRESTON, “Mortuary Practices and the Negotiation of Social Identities at LM II Knossos,” BSA 94 (1999) 131-143. The beautification and idealization of the corpse has been described as following “general Bronze Age European ideals”: E. ADAMS, “Representing, Objectifying, and Framing the Body at Late Bronze Age Knossos,” BICS 56 (2013) 7. I regretfully acknowledge that there is not enough space here to permit a full treatment of the differences between warrior burials of Crete and the mainland. MOLLOY (supra n. 1) 120. Although there are arguments against making assumptions in determining cultural or ethnic origins through burial assemblages: PRESTON (supra n. 3). B. BURKE, “Materialization of Mycenaean Ideology and the Ayia Triada Sarcophagus,” AJA 109 (2005) 403-422. P. TREHERNE, “The Warrior’s Beauty: The Masculine Body and Self-identity in Bronze-Age Europe,” Journal of European Archaeology 3 (1995). Nor are those weapons that have been deposited in hoards considered here, e.g., at Kato Syme: AEph 1981 (1983) 15 Pl. 2. Weapons of unknown provenance are not included within this study. Tombs containing weapons that date to LM I do not come within the scope of this paper; however, for discussion on assemblages with weapons and jewellery in this period, see, e.g., V. LA ROSA and P. MILITELLO, “Caccia, Guerra or Ritual? Alcune Considerazione sulle Armi Minoische da Festòs e Haghia Triada,” in LAFFINEUR ed. (supra n. 1). In addition, there are undoubtedly more burials that should be included within this group, particularly in the SM period: see, e.g., M.S. EABY, Mortuary Variability in Early Iron Age Cretan Burials (2007). For all references to sites discussed below, refer to Table on p. 204-212. In some instances, the description of associated finds is incomplete, and marked as such, whether due to being unpublished or an inability to access the relevant sources by the time of publication.

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The burials. The largest concentration of warrior graves is found around the Knossos and north central region, with 33 burials containing weapons, from Ayios Ioannis (2); Ayios Silas (1); Egoumenou Gavriel Street (1); Isopata (4); Kato Lakkos (1); Mavro Spelio (1),10 New Hospital (Venezeleion) site (4); Phourni (1); Psilakis Field (1); Sellopoulo (1 with 2 interments); Stomnioi (4); Upper Gypsades (1 with 2 interments), although the knives in Tomb 1 might reflect a loose interpretation of what constitutes a ‘weapon’; and Zapher Papoura (9). The majority of these burials date to LM II to LM IIIB, with three SM burials that include the cremation burial at Kato Lakkos and the Tomb 186 pit burial and Tomb 201 cremation burial at the Knossos North Cemetery. A further 36 burials with weapons are dispersed across Crete: the majority includes 18 burials across all periods in east Crete, at Chamaizi Phatsi, Hagios Ioannis, Karakovilia, Mouliana, Myrsini, Palaikastro, Praisos, and Vokastro; three LM IIIA-LM IIIB burials from west Crete include Apostoloi, Armenoi, Chania, Kalami, Neo Chorio Monofatsiou, and Pigi; burials from the central west of Crete are limited to a LM IIIA-LM IIIB burial at Elounda and a SM burial at Pantanassa; in the southern mesara, two LM IIIA tombs include those at Galia and Phaistos and two LM IIIA-LM IIIB tombs at Kalochoraphitis and Kalyvia; the central upland region includes a LM IIIA tomb at Stavros Galias and a LM IIIC-SM tomb at Prinias; and in central east Crete, there are five LM IIIALM IIIB tombs at Lastros and Sklavoi, two LM IIIB tombs at Gournes and Kalamafka, and a LM IIIC tomb at Vasiliki Ierapetras. There is nothing to distinguish the grave types of these warrior burials, which are variously in the form of pit caves, shaft graves, or chamber tombs. However, differences can be observed in the associated finds, with some richer in grave goods than others, and certain objects chronologically confined; for example, Types Ci, Cii, Di, and E weapons appear only in LM II-IIIA, and Naue II cut-and-thrust swords are limited to LM IIIC, except for one Naue II sword in SM Tomb 201 at Knossos North Cemetery and one in the pit grave at Kato Lakkos. The presence of Naue II swords within SM contexts, at which time Type F and G swords were more often deposited with elite burials, suggests their value as status items and as heirlooms. Whilst these warrior burials cannot compete with the rich concentration of the Achaean warrior burials of the LH IIIC,11 also distinguished by their Naue II swords, it becomes clear that the Cretan burials are single pieces of a much larger and coherent picture. The grave goods. Items that might accompany warrior burials include weapons such as swords, daggers, spearheads, arrowheads, badrics (from which swords were suspended, often described by Homer as decorated by bosses), and helmets, as well as other objects that do not constitute armour in the strict sense of the word, but are part of the warrior’s equipment, such as phalara, which might serve as shield bosses, belt studs, or helmet studs. Amongst the other grave furnishings are knives; axes; whetstones; pronged fishing spears; ceramic and metal vessels; personal hygiene accoutrement, including mirrors,12 razors, and tweezers;13 and personal adornment in the form of beads, pendants, finger rings, dress pins, fibulae, clothing accessories and attachments, and sealstones.14 Kilian-Dirlmeier described the warrior kit 10

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Refer to J. WHITLEY, “Objects With Attitude: Biographical Facts and Fallacies in the Study of Late Bronze Age and Early Iron Age Warrior Graves,” Cambridge Archaeological Journal 12 (2002) fn. 5. E.g., L. PAPAZOGLOU-MANIOUDAKI, “A Mycenaean Warrior’s Tomb at Krini near Patras,” BSA 89 (1994) 203-208. Object for personal grooming appear to occur equally in male and female burials: E. KONSTANTINIDI, Jewellery Revealed in the Burial Contexts of the Greek Bronze Age (2001) 247. Mirrors might of have been objects special esteem in part because of the decoration of their ivory or wooden handles: For references, see C. PASCHALIDIS, “Reflections of Eternal Beauty. The Unpublished Context of a Wealthy Female Burial from Koukaki, Athens and the Occurrence of Mirrors in Mycenaean Tombs,” in M.-L. NOSCH and R. LAFFINEUR (eds), KOSMOS. Jewellery, Adornment and Textiles in the Aegean Bronze Age (2012) fn. 27. It is suggested that the association of tweezers and weapons within male burials is due to their role in pulling out arrowhead barbs rather than as grooming devices: R. ARNOTT, “War Wounds and their Treatment in the Aegean Bronze Age,” in LAFFINEUR ed. (supra n. 1). Also within the category of clothing accessories are whorls or buttons, which may have had multiple uses: E. KONSTANTINIDI-SYVRIDI, “Buttons, Pins, Clips and Belts… ‘Inconspicuous’ Dress Accessories from the Burial Context of the Mycenaean Period (16th–12th cent. BC),” in M. HARLOW, C. MICHEL and M.L. NOSCH (eds), Prehistoric, Ancient Near Eastern and Aegean Textiles and Dress (2014).

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as including a necklace, armlet, bracelet, seal, and weapon; 15 Konstantiniti distinguishes five categories of warrior burial goods found in association with jewellery: vases; items for personal use, such as tweezers, razors, and mirrors; female figurines; tools; and weapons – the latter category almost exclusively accompanying male burials;16 and Laffineur also discusses the association of warrior status and rank in regards to jewellery, noting that a complete warrior set included weapons, precious vessels, diadems, and necklaces.17 While it is clear that the grave goods range from modest to what might be termed ‘elite’, approximately half of the 69 tombs, regardless of the quantity and quality of the other grave goods, contain at least some form of personal adornment. Amongst these objects, high-status items, in particular necklaces of gold relief beads, such as those from the richly furnished Tomb 4 at Sellopoulo (Pl. XXXVa), Tomb 36 at Zapher Papoura, and Tomb 8 – the ‘Tombe dei Nobili’ – at Phaistos, might have been insignia of rank.18 Martial images on stone vessels include the ‘Chieftain Cup’ from Aghia Triada, which depicts a tall male who holds what appears to be a staff or spear in a commanding gesture of authority, and wears a dagger at his waist as well as necklaces, bracelets, and armlets. This figure contrasts with a second male who holds swords in each hand and wears a single necklace and bracelet.19 Both central figures on the ‘Chieftain Cup’ are clean-shaven with elaborate hairstyles, and are portrayed with the distinctive musculature of the Minoan male ideal,20 and particularly in the case of the former figure, demonstrate an association of jewellery – especially necklaces – with rank.21 Returning to the Aegean mainland, burials from LH IIIC Achaea in the cemeteries of Kalithea, Patras, and Portes were accompanied by Naue II swords, other weapons, and armour, including bronze helmets.22 At Portes, a chamber tomb contained the burial of a warrior in his armour, with weapons including a Naue II sword and a crushed bronze headdress with its inner lining partially preserved.23 Following restoration, the headdress took the form of a tall elliptical cylinder with an outer surface decoratively highlighted by horizontal metal strips alternating with rows of studs. 24 The helmet, or headdress, shares strong similarities with the heavily documented, but poorly understood, “feathered” headdress depicted on Philistine (Peleset) warriors in the reliefs of the battles between the Egyptian forces and the Sea Peoples at the mortuary temple of Ramses III at Medinet Habu (ca 1175 B.C.). 25 Comparisons can also be drawn with bronze strips and small bronze studs found at Kallithea-Spenzes,

15

16 17

18

19

20 21

22

23 24

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I. KILIAN-DIRLMEIER, “Jewellery in Mycenaean and Minoan “Warrior Graves”,” in E.B. FRENCH and K.A. WARDLE (eds), Problems in Greek Prehistory (1988) 165. KONSTANTINIDI (supra n. 12). R. LAFFINEUR, “For a Kosmology of the Aegean Bronze Age”, in NOSCH and LAFFINEUR eds (supra n. 12) 15-16. M.R. POPHAM and H.W. CATLING, “Sellopoulo Tombs 3 and 4, Two Late Minoan Graves near Knossos,” BSA 69 (1974) 253, 255. The two figures are followed in turn by three other men carrying what appear to be bull hides, which have been interpreted as being intended for shields: R. HIGGINS, Minoan and Mycenaean Art (1967). MOLLOY (supra n. 1) 89. See A. PAPADOPOULOS, “Dressing a Late Bronze Age Warrior: The Role of ‘Uniforms’ and Weaponry According to the Iconographical Evidence,” in NOSCH and LAFFINEUR eds (supra n. 12). While the posture of the figures finds parallels with iconography found on the ‘Master Impression’ from Chania, and also bears similarities to the posture depicted on the ‘Mother of the Mountains’ sealing, the figure in the ‘Master Impression’ indicates that that he, and by extension the ‘Chieftain’, is mortal and not a deity: J. YOUNGER, “Representations of Minoan-Mycenaean Jewelry,” in R. LAFFINEUR and J. CROWLEY (eds.), EIKON. Aegean Bronze Age Iconography. Shaping a Methodology (1992) 262. L. KOLONAS, “Ηλειακήλ Πύλος,” in V. MITSOPOULOS-LEON (ed.), Forschungen in der Peloponnes (2001); MOSCHOS (supra n. 1, 2009) 356. KOLONAS (supra n. 22). T.J. PAPADOPOULOS, “Warrior-Graves in Achaean Mycenaean Cemeteries,” in LAFFINEUR ed. (supra n. 1) pl. LIXb. J.A. VERDUCI, “A Feather in your Cap: Symbols of “Philistine” Warrior Status?,” in M. CIFARELLI (ed.), Fashioned Selves. Dress and Identity in Antiquity (2019).

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which may well be the remains of a warrior’s helmet, rather than a corselet or a scabbard as first thought.26 Drawing on the construction of the helmet found at Portes, these remains, along with those also found at Lakkithra in Cephalonia, might once have fastened to perishable material inside the headgear.27 On Crete, a close parallel to the Portes helmet is the bronze cylindrical object from the tholos tomb at Praisos-Foutoula on Crete; this object is also formed of bands alternately decorated with ribs and rows of bosses (Pl. XXXVb).28 Similar elements come from burials at Krini29 and Phaistos.30 Components for helmets, composed both of metal and of boar’s tusks (the latter type familiar in Mycenaean iconography), have also been recovered from tombs, typically accompanied by other high-status material, including Armenoi Tomb 167,31 Knossos New Hospital Tomb V,32 Knossos North Cemetery Tomb 201,33 Zapher Papoura Tomb 55,34 and possibly Ayios Ioannis Tomb 235 and Phaistos ‘Tombe dei Nobili’.36 At least 20 tombs contain beads, and of these, items of gold provide the clearest evidence for rank. Gold relief beads such as the double argonaut beads found in Tomb 2 at Isopata, the tholos tomb at Praisos-Foutoula, Tomb 4 at Sellopoulo, and Tomb 36 at Zapher Papoura are characteristic of LM elite tombs on Crete and on the mainland. Relief beads are a distinct subset of spacer beads that were immensely popular in the Aegean world, and evidence from the Uluburun shipwreck indicates that such beads were circulating in the eastern Mediterranean during the Late Bronze Age.37 In the Aegean, relief beads diminish in number and variety in the LM IIIB, until by the LM IIIC they are extremely rare on Crete, and the few from Praisos-Foutoula and the mainland are possibly heirlooms.38 Once again, the richness of Tomb 4 at Sellopoulo stands that burial apart, with thirty-two gold oblate beads made of sheetmetal found fanned out in a line near the left wrist of the deceased as though they were components of a bracelet and in similar contexts as beads found a Kalyvia and Tomb 36 at Zapher Papoura.39 Finger rings are included for 13 tombs, with nine of the tombs containing rings of gold and two containing rings of silver. The most impressive are signet rings that typically have an ovoid bezel set perpendicular to the hoop.40 These bezels are often engraved with religious scenes, or animal and hunting imagery, whose purpose was possibly sphragistic (for sealing and stamping).41 Three gold rings (J6–8) from Tomb 4 at Sellopoullo are particularly impressive: J6 has a hoop and bezel decorated with a tricurved cloisonné design that retains traces of inlay and a border of granulation; J7 has an engraving of a griffin comparable to similar scenes found on rings from Kalyvia42 and from Zapher Papoura Tomb 743, and J8

26 27 28 29 30 31 32

33

34 35 36 37

38

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40 41

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MOSCHOS (supra n. 1, 2009) 356. S. MARINATOS, “Αι ανασκαφαίνασκαφαs, εν Κεφαλληνία,” AEph (1932) 39, Pl. 16α. N. PLATON, “Ανασκαφαί περιοχής Πραισούρα,” Prakt (1960) 304-305, Pl. 241β. PAPAZOGLOU-MANIOUDAKI (supra n. 11). MOSCHOS 2009 (supra n. 1) 358. Y. TZEDAKIS, H. MARTLEW, and R. ARNOTT, The Late Minoan III Necropolis of Armenoi (2018) 16. M.S.F. HOOD and P. DE JONG, “Late Minoan Warrior Graves from Ayios Ioannis and the New Hospital Site at Knossos,” BSA 47 (1952) 252-253. J.N. COLDSTREAM and H.W. CATLING (eds), Knossos North Cemetery. Early Greek Tombs (1996) 191195, 517-542. A.J. EVANS, “The Prehistoric Tombs at Knossos,” Archaeologia 59 (1906) 66-67. M.S.F. HOOD, “Another Warrior-Grave at Ayios Ioannis near Knossos,” BSA 51 (1956). L. SAVIGNONI, Scavi e Scoperte nella Necropoli di Phaestos (1905). For references and discussion, see J. VERDUCI, Metal Jewellery of the Southern Levant and its Western Neighbours. Cross-Cultural Influences in the Early Iron Age Eastern Mediterranean (2018) Type 5VI. In addition, no moulds come from LM/LH IIIC contexts: J.G. VELSINK, Minoïsche en Mykeense Stenen Mallen voor Reliëfornamenten en Cultusvoorwerpen, Unpublished PhD diss. (2011) 311. VERDUCI (supra n. 37) Subtype 5II.a. Kalyvia: SAVIGNONI (supra n. 36) 595, 598, figs 58 and 62, Pl. 39; Zapher Papoura: EVANS (supra n. 34) figs 20 and 60. Refer to J. BOARDMAN, Greek Gems and Finger Rings. Early Bronze Age to Late Classical (2001 [1970]). J. YOUNGER, “Seven Types of Ring Construction in the Greek Late Bronze Age,” in Aux Origines de l’Hellénisme. La Crète et la Grèce – Hommage à Henri van Effenterre (1984) 84. L. SAVIGNONI, “Scavie e Scoperte nella Necropoli di Phaestos,” Monumenti Antichi 14 (1904) 522, fig. 12.

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has an engraving of an epiphany scene with a man on his knees. 44 Sealstones, also used in adornment practices as insignia of rank and office in social and political spheres,45 are found in 16 tombs; the majority of the richly furnished burials are frequently accompanied by such sealstones.46 These objects were also worn on bracelets and this is reflected in adornment traditions depicted in Aegean frescoes. In support of the imagery, sealstones have been found by the left wrist of skeletons in the warrior graves at Knossos and other Minoan tombs.47 Clothing attachments in the Minoan tombs might include plaques of gold foil, often with embossed motifs:48 these should be considered exclusively funerary ornaments. The majority of examples on Crete come from Sellopoulo, where they lay above and below the upper body as though attached to a shroud, or perhaps along the hemline of a skirt.49 In addition, eight of the 69 tombs include clothing accessories in the form of dress pins, four tombs include fibulae, and seven tombs include whorls or buttons. The silver hook pin from Psilakis Field is an anomaly given its association with females,50 and its presence in the tomb cannot be explained. Ornamentation is also to be found in the gold and ivory embellishments on weapons. Examples of such weapons include those from Tomb 46 at Chania, Tomb 2 at Gournes Pedhaidhos, Tombs 2 and 6 at Isopata, Tombs II and III at the Knossos New Hospital, Tomb 4 at Sellopoulo, and Tombs 36 and 42 at Zapher Papoura. In addition, there is incised decoration on weapons from Tombs 1 and 2 at Ayios Ioannis, Tomb II at the Knossos New Hospital, and Tombs 14, 36, 42, 44, and 55 at Zapher Papoura that serves no functional purpose; such details are often to be found alongside other precious objects which also serve to indicate rank and status. The richest of these tombs – Tomb 2 at Ayios Ioannis, Tombs 2 and 6 at Isopata, Tomb III at the Knossos New Hospital, Tomb 4 at Sellopoulo, Tomb 36 at Zapher Papoura – each contained items of personal adornment alongside these luxury items. Amongst the prestige items is a gold face-mask from Praisos-Foutoula; a gold toggle with eight facets from Tomb III at the Knossos New Hospital similar to examples from Shaft grave IV at Mycenae, which might have been used for fastening a belt or baldric as were the Mycenaean examples;51 a gold cup decorated with a double line of repoussé running spirals from Tomb 2 at Ayios Ioannis; two bronze double-axes and fragments of a third from Tomb 2 at Isopata; a ritual vessel, the handle of a silver goblet, and the ears and inlays of a steatite bull's head rhyton also from Tomb 2 at Isopata – the latter might be interpreted as a ritual or ceremonial object; a serpentine pyxis and lid of smaller pyxis of the same material from Tomb 6 at Isopata; a rhyton from Tomb 1 at Gypsade Tomb 1;52 and a faceted breccia macehead – possibly a ceremonial object – discovered within Tomb 3 at Isopata. 43 44 45

46

47

48 49

50 51 52

EVANS (supra n. 34) fig. 21. POPHAM and CATLING (supra n. 18) 217, Pl. 37a-b, fig. 14d. The discussion of Aegean glyptic is extensive: refer to J. YOUNGER, “Non-Sphragistic Uses for MinoanMycenaean Sealstones and Rings,” Kadmos 16 (1977) 141-159; The Iconography of Late Minoan and Mycenaean Sealstones and Finger Rings (1988); Sphragis. A Bibliography for Aegean Glyptic. Part II (2009). Younger also offers a detailed study of jewellery based on its representation in seals, frescoes, and statuary: J. YOUNGER, “Representations of Minoan-Mycenaean Jewelry,” in LAFFINEUR and CROWLEY eds (supra n. 21) 257-294. For references and additional discussion, refer to J. VERDUCI and B. DAVIS, “Minoan Inscribed Finger-Rings and Hairpins,” BSA 110 (2015) 51-70. KONSTANTINIDI (supra n. 12) 503. Another in situ example was also identified in the LM IIIB tomb at Voliones Amariou: M. POLOGIORGI, “Δυο ταφες της YM III περιοδου στο Βολιωνες επαρχιας Αμαριου,” ArchDelt 36 (1981) 82-105. VERDUCI (supra n. 37) Type 7III. Cf. at Phourni, LMIIIA Tholos D: M. EFFINGER, Minoischer Schmuck (2000); and LM IIIA Tholos A: J. SAKELLARAKIS, “Αρχαιότητες και Μνημεία Κεντρικής και Ανατολικής Κρήτης,” ArchDelt (B 2) 21 (1966) 405-419. See VERDUCI and DAVIS (supra n. 46) 51-70. HOOD and DE JONG (supra n. 32) 249-251. On similarities to a LH IIIB warrior burial at Voudeni, see MOSCHOS 2009 (supra n. 1) fn. 25 for references.

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Exotica or objects of foreign inspiration are high-status objects most often found in SM contexts. These are represented by bronze amphoroid-kraters from Tomb 8 at Phaistos and a tholos tomb at Pantanassa, a bronze tripod stand from Tomb I at Vokastro Karakovilia, a bronze four-sided Cypriot stand from Tomb 201 at Knossos North Cemetery, and a bimetallic knife from Tomb 186 at Knossos North Cemetery. Amongst the objects is also a plain, bossed ring of sheet gold from Knossos North Cemetery Tomb 201, which is also common on the mainland at Lefkandi. While extremely simple in manaufacture, this type is most frequently seen in Cypriote contexts.53 Discussion Warrior identity. The assumption that the presence of weapons in burials does in fact indicate a warrior identity in life is indeed just that –– an assumption.54 The term ‘warrior graves’ or ‘warrior burials’ has come to signify those burials containing offensive and defensive weapons and armour primarily used in combat or warfare.55 But despite the association of weapons with whetstones, such as those contained within high-status burials at Knossos (Tomb 186), Isopata (Tomb 2),56 Myrsini (Tomb B), and Zapher Papoura (Tomb 42), and examples of weapons which have been resharpened, presumably as an indication of the functionality of some weapons such as a Type Fii sword from Zapher Papoura (Tomb 95), in many cases it is not clear if weapons were the deceased’s functional tools or non-functional, symbolic representations. Likewise, studies have demonstrated that skeletal remains buried with weapons might show little evidence of combat trauma, while other individuals buried without weapons show bladeinflicted trauma consistent with combat injuries.57 Given that there were likely many more individuals who engaged in combat than there are warrior burials, the warrior burials might “refer to a status of excellence” rather than be signifiers of a profession.58 That is, one does not necessarily have to view these objects as “straightforward biographical facts”, but a means by which the deceased might become associated with ideals of masculinity, authority, and prowess in battle that might be awarded a warrior.59 Furthermore, not all of the deceased in these warrior graves are adult males; for example, Burial II at Sellopoulo grave 4, which includes an elaborate bronze sword and bronze dagger, is that of a juvenile,60 while a LM I sealstone from Knossos depicts a female handling a sword in what might be evidence for a warrior goddess figure, suggesting that the inclusion of this type of burial gift may have had a range of meanings in addition to symbolising military status and gender.61 The discovery of swords in the LM I 53 54

55

56 57

58

59 60 61

VERDUCI (supra n. 37) Subtype 2I.d. L. ALBERTI, “The Late Minoan II-IIIA Warrior Graves at Knossos: The Burial Assemblages,” in G. CADOGAN, E. HATZAKI and A. VASILAKIS (eds), Knossos. Palace, City, State (2004); I. MOLLOY, “Swords and Swordsmanship in the Aegean Bronze Age,” AJA 114 (2010) 412; S.K. SMITH, “Skeletal Evidence for Militarism in Mycenaean Athens,” in L.A. SCHEPARTZ, S.C. FOX and C. BOURBOU (eds), New Directions in the Skeletal Biology of Greece (2009); WHITLEY (supra n. 10). PAPADOPOULOS (supra n. 1) 267. Cf. MOLLOY (supra n. 54) fn. 54, who prefers the term ‘burial as a warrior’ as “it reflects the nature of representation rather than suggesting a reality of identity in life”. COLDSTREAM and CATLING eds (supra n. 33) 536-37. SMITH (supra n. 54). Similar results were obtained for Anglo-Saxon England, where it was found that burials with weapons were not always those of warriors, while warriors were not always buried with weapons. The ‘weapon burial ritual’ in England thus viewed as metaphor for a masculine ideal: H. HÄRKE, “ ‘Warrior graves?’ The background of the Anglo-Saxon weapon burial ritual,” Past and Present 126 (1990). See also MOLLOY (supra. 1) 120-122. S. DEGER-JALKOTZY, “Late Mycenaean Warrior Tombs,” in S. DEGER-JALKOTZY and I.S. LEMOS (eds), Ancient Greece. From the Mycenaean Palaces to the Age of Homer (2006) 152. WHITLEY (supra n. 10) 219-220. POPHAM and CATLING (supra n. 18) 202-203, 225-229. P. REHAK, “The Mycenaean ‘Warrior Goddess’ Revisited,” in LAFFINEUR ed. (supra n. 1) 227-240. See also, I. KILIAN-DIRLMEIER, “Remarks on Non-military Functions of Swords in the Mycenaean Argolid,” in R HÄGG and G.C. NORDQUIST (eds), Celebrations of Death and Divinity in the Bronze Age Argolid (1990) 157-161.

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Arkalochori Cave in what appears to be a dedication to a Minoan goddess and swords dedicated in the later LM II-LM IIA sanctuary at Kato Syme Viannou also call into question simplistic explanations for the role of weaponry within mortuary ritual.62 In general, the term ‘warrior grave’ (regardless of any active participation in warfare) is commonly justified by the presence of swords or daggers, although contexts with only spearheads might also have an exclusively martial significance despite their use in hunting.63 The wealth of burial gifts associated with spearheads within graves that include Isopata Tombs 1A and 3, Knossos North Cemetery Tomb 186, New Hospital Tomb I, Praisos-Foutoula, and Zapher Papoura Tomb 75 is indicative of the elevated social rank of those that might be buried with weapons other than swords and daggers.64 It might also be prudent to note that spears were likely the most effective and lethal of all the arms carried by a warrior.65 As Deger-Jalkotzky notes for the mainland: “It is certainly of interest to note that among the LH IIIC representations of fighting there are more scenes involving the use of spears than the use of swords.”66 Nonetheless, iconographic evidence does support the treatment of swords as a prestigious item often held by one warrior in the defeat of another.67 Moreover, the practice of intentionally damaging swords as evident in LM III-SM contexts, as well as on the mainland, in Cyprus and the Near East, in acts of ritual ‘killing’ might in some way correspond to the death of their owners and as military and/or status markers.68 Examples of weapons that may have been intentionally destroyed include those from Knossos North Cemetery Tomb 201, 69 Mavro Spelio Tomb XVIII, 70 Mouliana Tomb A, 71 and Sellopoulo Tomb 4.72 On the mainland and Crete, the depiction of swords in use is exclusively found on seal images dated between 1700 and 1400 B.C.73 The scenes are typically of two opposing warriors, a limitation caused by the small size of the seals. LM/LH I-II seals depicting interpersonal violence come from Knossos, Hagia Triada, Zakros, and elsewhere in Crete, Mycenae, Athens, and Pylos.74 I should note that “looking for specific images of war may also presuppose the existence of a soldier rather than warrior identity”, and the use of helmets and other defensive paraphernalia within hunting scenes in glyptic art suggests a warrior identity rather than any necessity for helmets as protection against game animals, perhaps conflating warfare, hunting, conquest, and control.75 Another consideration is the rich treatment of some weapons (for example, engraving, ivory hilts, gold-plated studs), which emphasises the status of the

62 63

64 65

66 67 68

69 70 71 72 73 74

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REHAK (supra n. 61) 231. To offer a similar analogy, iconographic evidence from both the 15th and 12th centuries demonstrate that a sword or dagger might also used in hunting: DRIESSEN and MACDONALD (supra n. 2) fn. 52. Knives are not herein considered as weapons. DEGER-JALKOTZY (supra n. 58) 169. Cf. KILIAN-DIRLMEIER (supra n. 15) 163. N.K. SANDARS, “Later Aegean Swords,” AJA 67 (1963) 129. E.g., the LM IIIA ‘Captain of the Blacks’ fresco at Knossos shows two warriors, one carrying two spears and wearing a necklace and anklet, and the poorly-preserved second figure carrying one spear. DEGER-JALKOTZY (supra n. 58) 172. On Aegean weapons in iconography, see MOLLOY (supra n. 54) 410-412. For discussion and references see J. VERDUCI, “The Final Cut: Symbolic Acts of Destruction in the Ancient Near East,” in I. SHAI, J.R. CHADWICK, L. HITCHCOCK, A. DAGAN, C. MCKINNY and J. UZIEL (eds), Tell it in Gath. Studies in the History and Archaeology of Israel (2018). COLDSTREAM and CATLING (supra n. 33) 191-195, 517-542. E. FORSDYKE, “The Mavro Spelio Cemetery at Knossos,” BSA 28 (1926-1927) 282. S. XANTHOUDIDES, “Εκ Κρήτης,” ArchEph (1904) fig. 7. WHITLEY (supra n. 10) 221. MOLLOY (supra n. 54) 410. S. HILLER, “Ornaments from the Warrior Grave and the Aigina Treasure,” in J.L. FITTON (ed.), The Aigina Treasure. Aegean Bronze Age Jewellery and a Mystery Revisited (2009); A. PAPADOPOULOS, The Iconography of Warfare in the Bronze Age Aegean (PhD thesis, University of Liverpool, 2006); YOUNGER (supra n. 45, 1988). MOLLOY (supra n. 1) 99-105.

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deceased or might have some ritual significance rather than being necessary from a technical point of view. In general, objects of personal adornment found with swords, daggers, and spearheads – typical features of warrior graves – are certainly revealed in tombs of wealth, in patterns also seen on the mainland. 76 Perhaps there exists a certain correlation between weapons, adornments, and ideals of beauty,77 in behaviours hinted at by the use of luxury material and ornamentation on weapons. In the case of the rich Mycenaean warrior graves on the mainland, sets of armour comprising sword, knife, and shield were always accompanied by precious jewellery in large quantities; Konstantiniti sees this as indicating the “prominent social role of the class of warriors”.78 When looking to other military paraphernalia for insights as to the role of material deposits in warrior tombs, the Praisos-Foutoula helmet is particularly intriguing. Its unique shape and decorative elements, combined with the fact it was open at the top reducing its protective attributes, meant that its purpose was more likely ceremonial or to demonstrate a position of rank.79 We might also consider that the inclusion of prestige items with the dead, such as double axes, sealstones, ritual vessels, and bull-head rhyta, might be seen as an act of transformation through which the tomb became a religious space and the deceased connected with the supernatural.80 The combination of ritual and military paraphernalia along with the adornment of the dead strengthened and elevated their status, and by association, preserved and strengthened the status of the mourners – especially in the ostentatious consumption of wealth through the disposal of luxury items of adornment in the form of signet rings and relief beads of gold. Interconnections. Comparison of tombs from the LM II-IIIA period in the Knossos region to those on the mainland reveals similarities in both the types of tombs and the deposition of vessel types, while still noting that tombs can contain items of purely Minoan tradition.81 Following the palatial collapse of LM IIIB, resemblances between the mainland and Crete strengthen in LM IIIC, as can be inferred by the increased number of warrior burials in eastern Crete and the use of Naue II type swords, in patterns analogous to the situation in western Achaea, particularly in the area around modern Patras;82 although it is worth noting that the sword’s origin is to be sought in Central Europe. Parallels to be found in weaponry and ornamentation on Crete and the mainland at this time might reflect the fact that voyages between the two regions had quickly been re-established.83 Moreover, contact between the two regions in LM IIIC is readily apparent in the adoption of elite adornment in the form of headwear, such as the Praisos-Foutoula ‘helmet’, which likely demonstrates the kind of authority/identity encountered in Achaea and Cephalonia.84 By the LM IIIC period in eastern Crete, the popularity of Naue II swords, as well as the deposition of objects such as the face-mask and gold ring within Tomb B of Mouliana and the helmet within the Praisos-Foutoula tholos tomb, connects the deceased in those tombs to an elite community with a wide network of connections.85 76 77

78 79 80 81

82

83 84

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KONSTANTINIDI (supra n. 12); KILIAN-DIRLMEIER (supra n. 15) 161-165. P. TREHERNE, “The Warrior’s Beauty: The Masculine Body and Self-Identity in Bronze-Age Europe,” JEA 3 (1995) 105-144. KONSTANTINIDI (supra n. 12) 461. I.e., a headdress rather than a functioning helmet: see MOSCHOS 2009 (supra n. 1) 358, n. 6. L. PRESTON, “The Isopata Cemetery at Knossos,” BSA 102 (2007) 257-314. L. ALBERTI, “The Late Minoan II-IIIA1 Warrior Graves at Knossos: The Burial Assemblages,” BSA Studies 12 (2004) 127-136. Although the concentration of warrior burials in Achaea might reflect the need for rescue excavations caused by extensive building activity in the region: GIANNOPOULOS (supra n. 1) 108. MOSCHOS 2009 (supra n. 1) 350. Comparisons can also be drawn between Sandars’ Type F daggers and comparable examples at Cephalonia: MOSCHOS 2009 (supra n. 1) fn. 133. Likewise, there are pottery resemblances between eastern and central-eastern Crete and Elateia: S. DEGER-JALKOTZY, “Defining LH IIIC Middle at the Cemetery of Elateia-Alonaki in Central Greece,” in S. DEGER-JALKOTZY and M. ZAVADIL (eds), LH III C Chronology and Synchronisms II. LH IIIC Middle (2007) 132-133. DEGER-JALKOTZY (supra n. 58) 165.

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The inclusion of objects of foreign derivation or inspiration within SM burials, such as bronze tripods and four-sided stands, bronze amphoroid-kraters, and bimetallic knives, likewise represents traditions of status expression typically encountered in Cyprus. 86 In the east, the concentration of mortuary customs such as cremation along with the burial of prestige objects of foreign influence is no doubt both a result of cultural interaction at this time and a crucial element in social differentiation for both the dead and their mourners. Conclusions To summarise, then, this study cannot aim to distinguish between acculturation and Mycenaenisation processes, or between ethnic and cultural identities, without a comprehensive examination of all tomb types and their associated material. However, as a general statement, it can be inferred that the mainland-derived influence on Cretan mortuary practice, and the evidence for crosscultural interactions between those two regions and beyond, no doubt impacted on developments within Crete with temporal and spatial transformations. Internal social and political agendas may have resulted in the active adaptation of mortuary customs and manipulation of identity by individuals and groups burying their dead. LM II marked a period of innovation and mortuary practices on Crete during the period of political centralisation in Knossos. A decline in both population and number of villages in the post-palatial period between LH IIIB and LH IIIC coincides with the re-organisation of social structure and political ideology.87 At this time there is evidence for intercommunal violence in the relative prominence of weapon burials and of scenes of warriors and warfare on pictorial pottery during a period with notable changes in types of military equipment. 88 Social differentiation can be observed, with certain burials accompanied by military paraphernalia, valuables and exotic objects of foreign origin.89 Nonetheless, there are numerous instances of rich tombs and burials with no weapons or military symbolism and conversely modest burials that contain weaponry.90 Such differences in the quantity, quality, and type of grave goods might be accounted for by individuals being of different social rank, or indeed, the differences in the types of warrior graves and goods might indicate the warriors’ different origins. It is worth mentioning, once again, that the presence of weapons might not necessarily indicate a military purpose, as items such as swords might be related to social status or have served a religious function.91 For example, the military character of tombs such as Tomb 4 Burial I at Sellopoulo and Tomb 36 at Zapher Papoura cannot be demonstrated despite the presence of weaponry; they do, however, suggest that the survivors bestowed upon the deceased an elevated rank in death that they presumably also shared in life. Furthermore, in the absence of determinations of the gender for all those buried alongside weapons, we should not assume that the deceased are all male, and while a sword might have served as an indicator of status, emphasising the importance of the military aspect in the Minoan world, it also served

86

87

88

89 90

91

For discussion, refer to B. KNAPP, Prehistoric and Protohistoric Cyprus. Identity, Insularity, and Connectivity (2008) 272274. See also J. WALDBAUM, “Bimetallic Objects from the Eastern Mediterranean and the Question of the Dissemination of Iron,” in J.D. MUHLY, R. MADDIN and V. KARAGEORGHIS (eds), Early Metallurgy in Cyprus, 4000-500 B.C. (1982) 325-349. J. MARAN, “Coming to Terms with the Past: Ideology and Power in Late Helladic IIIC,” in DEGERJALKOTZY and LEMOS eds (supra n. 58). O. DICKINSON, The Aegean from Bronze Age to Iron Age. Continuity and Change between the Twelfth and Eight Centuries BC (2006) 70; J.B. RUTTER, “Cultural novelties in the post-palatial Aegean world: indices of vitality or decline?,” in W.A. WARD and M.S. JOUKOWSKY (eds), The Crisis Years. The 12th Century BC from beyond the Danube to the Tigris (1992) 67-68. DEGER-JALKOTZY (supra n. 58) 151-152. DEGER-JALKOTZY (supra n. 58) 152; MACDONALD, “Part II: Aegean Swords and Warrior Graves: Their Implications for Cnossian Military Organization,” in DRIESSEN and MACDONALD (supra n. 2) 66-67, and also 167 for rich burials where a military character cannot be demonstrated. KONSTANTINIDI (supra n. 12) 491.

MINOAN “WARRIOR GRAVES”

203

as a votive offering or sacrificial tool related to a privileged social class.92 Therefore funerary offerings are more likely often (although perhaps not always) tools in the process of identity-creation – the expression of important social roles and rank, and the expression of the cultural ideal.93 Regardless of the ethnic and cultural identity of the deceased in burials containing weapons and military paraphernalia, or of these people’s participation (or not) in warfare, the deliberate placement of items of adornment within their burials ensured that objects of importance – ones whose physical proximity to the body meant that they were intimately connected to their desired identity in life – ensured the continued (albeit altered) identity of the body in the minds of the mourners. Mortuary practices – as evident on Crete – are also the product of active choices and strategies relative to an individual’s social and group beliefs. This notion of self-expression and the embodiment of lifestyle (as evident in mortuary ritual) challenges traditional ideological concepts regarding prestige goods and status hierarchies, and emphasises the active role of the body in cultural and ideological discourse. Whilst the physical objects represent tangible aspects of material culture, equally significant is the intangible relationship between ancient people and the adornment of their dead. Josephine VERDUCI

92 93

KILIAN-DIRLMEIER (supra n. 61) 158; KONSTANTINIDI (supra n. 12) 492. TREHERNE (supra n. 77).

Tholos tomb

LM IIIA-LM IIIB

LM IIIA-LM IIIB

LM IIIA-LM IIIB

LM IIIC

Armenoi Tomb 35

Armenoi Tomb 78 Armenoi Tomb 115

LM IIIA

LM IIIB

Chania Tomb 46

Egoumenou Gavriel Str. - Herakleion

LM IIIA-LM IIIB

Chamber tomb with five burials and more secondary ones Chamber tomb

LM IIIA-LM IIIB

Apostoloi

Armenoi Tomb 167 Chamaizi Phatsi Tomb II

Chamber tomb

LM IIIA

Agios Silas Tomb Γ

Shaft chamber tomb

Shaft grave with one adult male

Chamber tomb

Pit grave

Remains of two individuals

Chamber tomb

LM II

Ayios Ioannis Tomb 2

Shaft grave

BURIAL TYPE

LM II

DATE

Ayios Ioannis Tomb 1

TOMB

One sword

One long sword with bone pommel and gold embellishments; three spearheads; and several arrows

One boar’s tusk helmet (Mycenanean import?) One sword

One spearhead and one dagger One sword

Two spearheads and one dagger

MILITARY PARAPHERNALIA Sandars Type Di sword, three spears, one with a lightly incised spiral Sandars Type Di sword with ivory pommel, two Sandars Type Ei daggers, six spears, and five arrows. Numerous fragments of copper wire possibly to connect to a helmet Burial 1: a spearhead; Burial 2: a sword and a dagger One dagger with bone inlay on the handle

One dipper; one alabastron; three juglets; one ring-shaped vase; one double kalathos; 11 mugs; seven deep bowls; one bronze mug; one small bronze knife; one bronze mirror; 21 beads of various materials; sealstones of agate, carnelian, jasper and a soft stone; 24 gold rosettes; three silver finger rings; and one gold finger ring.

Small piriform jar; one bronze vessel; one bronze razor; one carnelian seal (Tomb type and its contents have parallels to Zapher Papoura)

14 vases (incomplete)

Two broken metal rings with elliptical bezels with motifs of either stylized fish or plants (incomplete) One knife-axe; one saw; one bronze vessel; and one dipper; numerous beads; sealstones of carnelian, steatite, and onyx; four bronze finger rings, one bronze bracelet (Incomplete)

Conical cup of bronze (incomplete)

I. KILIAN-DIRLMEIER, Die Schwerter in Griechenland (außerhalb der Peloponnes), Bulgarien und Albanien (1993) 84 Y. GALANKIS, “A Survey of Late Bronze Age Funerary Archaeology Over the Last 25 Years in the Central and Southern Aegean,” Archaeological Reports 64 (2018) 85-101 M. POLOGIORGI, “Nomos Chanion (Egoumenou Gavriel Str.),” ArchDelt 39 (1984) 299-300

TZEDAKIS et al. (supra n. 31) 16.

Y. TZEDAKIS, ArchDelt 33 (1978) 364-384

L. PRESTON, “A Mortuary Perspective on Political Changes in Late Minoan II-IIIB Crete,” AJA 108 (2004) fig. 8 Y. TZEDAKIS, H. MARTLEW, and R. ARNOTT, The Late Minoan III Necropolis of Armenoi (2018) 15. TZEDAKIS et al. (supra n. 31) 15

A. KARETSOU, Prakt (1978) 352-326

HOOD (supra n. 35)

Gold cup decorated with a line of repoussé double running spirals; small blade with silver rivets; two-edged razor; one lamp; two fragmentary metal hooks; six metal clips; and two sealstones: one amygdaloid of carnelian depicting a lying lion and one lentoid of agate of a lion attacking a bull

One knife and one miniature jug; Burial 1: knife and one razor with one individual; Burial 2: one razor, aone brazier, and one bronze bowl One skyphos

HOOD and DE JONG (supra n. 32) 261262

PUBLICATION

Two-edged razor

ASSOCIATED CONTEXT

Table: Tombs containing offensive weapons and military paraphernalia on Crete 204

Josephine VERDUCI

LM IIIA-LM IIIB

LM IIIA

LM IIIB

LM IIIB

LM IIIA-LM IIIB

LM IIIB

LM IIIA

LM IIIA

LM IIIA

Galia

Gournes Pedhiadhos Tomb 2

Gypsades Tomb 1

Hagios Ioannis Tomb 5

Hagios Ioannis

Isopata Tomb 1A

Isopata, Tomb 2 (“The Tomb of the Double Axes”)

Isopata Tomb 3 (“Mace-Bearer’s Tomb”)

DATE

Elounda

TOMB

Chamber tomb

Chamber tomb

Chamber tomb

Chamber tomb

Chamber tomb

Chamber tomb containing two burials. Tomb A in chamber, in blue-painted wooden coffin, with knees of corpse drawn up. Tomb B in niche of dromos, possibly in a coffin

Chamber tomb containing three larnakes

Chamber tomb

BURIAL TYPE

One spearhead and one large arrowhead

Two gold-plated studs of a sword and approximately 20 arrow-heads

Three spearheads; small arrowheads; and three larger arrowheads

One sword

Burial A: one single edge bronze knife with flanged tang continuing the crescent-shaped pommel in or on coffin (not a weapon per se); and Burial B: one single edge bronze knife above body Unspecified number of bronze weapons.

Sandars Type Dii dagger with ivory hilt plates

Sandars Type Eii dagger found with spearhead

MILITARY PARAPHERNALIA One dagger

Two bronze double-axes and fragments of a third; one bronze razor; two bronze knives; four three-handled amphorae; one clay alabastron; one plain cup; two ewers; one ‘ritual’ vessel; the handle of a silver goblet; the handle and part of the pan of clay brazier; the ears and inlays of steatite bull’s head rhyton; one whetsone; two gold double argonaut beads; an amber disc in gold mount and a second amber bead; a wooden core of a bead; and one carnelian lentoid sealstone with scene of lion Two small bronze knives; one bronze razor; one bronze mirror; one lentoid sealstone showing a moufflon or large sheep with a smaller animal above its hindquarters; one sealstone showing two ibex; one faceted breccia mace; one bead of white vitreous paste with design derived from double axe; segmented paste beads; and one large and flat decorated alabastron

One goblet; one stemmed bowl; several incense burners; one decorated cup; one bronze mirror; one bronze knife; four bronze rings; three stone buttons; 54 beads of gold, silver, stone, and faience; and nine sealstones Two jugs; one decorated hole-spouted vessel; one brazier; one gold filigree pendant; and one carnelian sealstone engraved with an eagle

One bronze mirror; stone beads; and three vases

One gypsum vase; one blossom bowl; one two-handled bowl; miniature stirrup jars; decorated amphora; beak-spouted juglet; one kalathos; bronze tankard; bronze ladle; plain footed cups; shallow bowl; conical cups; and one brazier Burial A: one rhyton, one jug, one cup, one stirrup vase, and one razor; and Burial B: one razor

One leaf-shaped razor and a one-edged knife

(Incomplete)

ASSOCIATED CONTEXT

A.J. EVANS, “The Tomb of the Double Axes and Associated Groups at Knossos,” Archaeologia (1914)

D. BLACKMAN, “Archaeology in Greece,” Archaeological Reports 45 (1999-2000) 1-124 E. KARANTZALI, “Une Tombe du Minoen Récent III B à la Chanée,” BCH 110 (1986) 53-87 A.J. EVANS, “The Tomb of the Double Axes and Associated Groups at Knossos”, Archaeologia 65 (1914). A.J. EVANS, “The Tomb of the Double Axes and Associated Groups at Knossos,” Archaeologia 65 (1914)

M.S.F. HOOD, G. HUXLEY, and N. SANDARS, “A Minoan Cemetery on the Upper Gypsades,” BSA (1959) 53-54

L. PRESTON, “A Mortuary Perspective on Political Changes in Late Minoan II-IIIB Crete,” AJA 108 (2004) fig. 8 Prakt 1975 (1977) 522, Pl. 335b; DRIESSEN and MACDONALD (supra n. 2) 71 J. KHATZIDHAKIS, “Μινωιχοι ταφοι εν Κρητη,” ArchDelt 4 (1918) 45-87

PUBLICATION

MINOAN “WARRIOR GRAVES” 205

LM IIIA

LM IIIB

SM

SM

LM IIIA-LM IIIB

LM IIIA-LM IIIB

LM IIIA-LM IIIB

SM

SM

Kalamafka

Karakovilia Tomb I

Karakovilia Tomb II

Kalami

Kalochoraphitis

Kalyvia

Kato Lakkos

Knossos North Cemetery Tomb 186

DATE

Isopata Tomb 6

TOMB

Pit cave containing the cremated remains of one man. Perhaps a child as well.

Cremation in stone jar

Tholos tomb with five adult cremations and one child inhumation

Tholos tomb

Chamber tomb

BURIAL TYPE

Spearhead picked out with fine relief ridges (design link with sword from T. 201 but without clear parallels); five arrowheads; and phalara

One bronze spearhead; an iron spearhead; and two Naue II swords

Two swords and a dagger

One spearhead

One sword

One iron sword

25 iron weapons including: daggers; swords; and spearheads.

Type Fii sword

MILITARY PARAPHERNALIA One gold-plated bronze stud of a sword similar to those on the swords of the ‘Chieftain's Grave’ at Zapher Papoura

One stirrup jar; one whetstone; and one bimetallic knife

One stirrup jar

(Incomplete)

(Incomplete)

(Incomplete)

33 vases including: one stirrup jar; one pyxid; openwork kalathoi; cups; one kylix; one jug; oinochoe; flasks; bowls; one pithos; one krater; amphorae; possible lids; one bronze tripod stand; knives; one adze; one chisel; one axe; fibulae; tweezers; one fish hook; one gold ring; six faience seals, some with pseudo-hieroglyphs; one carnelian bead; one steatite bead; and 250 mostly faience beads (Incomplete)

I. KILIAN-DIRLMEIER, Die Schwerter in Griechenland (außerhalb der Peloponnes), Bulgarien und Albanien (1993) 107-109 L. PRESTON, “A Mortuary Perspective on Political Changes in Late Minoan II-IIIB Crete,” AJA 108 (2004) fig. 8 L. PRESTON, “A Mortuary Perspective on Political Changes in Late Minoan II-IIIB Crete,” AJA 108 (2004) fig. 8 L. PRESTON, “A Mortuary Perspective on Political Changes in Late Minoan II-IIIB Crete,” AJA 108 (2004) fig. 8 E. SAPOUNASAKELLARAKI, “Archanès à l’époque mycénienne,” BCH 114 (1990) 67-102 COLDSTREAM and CATLING (supra n. 33) 190-191, 517-542

A. KANTA, The Late Minoan III Period in Crete. A Survey of Sites, Pottery and their Distribution (1980) 161 I. KILIAN-DIRLMEIER, Die Schwerter in Griechenland (außerhalb der Peloponnes), Bulgarien und Albanien (1993) 107-109

A.J. EVANS, “The Tomb of the Double Axes and Associated Groups at Knossos,” Archaeologia (1914)

One kernos; one squat alabastron (fragments); one ‘ritual’ vessel; one ‘mannikin’; one clay bird and head of second bird; one gold finger ring with and elliptical bezel with intaglio of goddesses holding each other’s hands and pillar shrines; three globular gold beads; elongated ovoid beads of brilliant kyanos blue; Trochus shell in vitreous paste with pale lilac glaze; also one Nassa or Scalaria shell in similar material with white glaze and purplish bands; one bronze mirror; fragments of green serpentine pyxis and lid of smaller pyxis of the same material (Incomplete)

PUBLICATION

ASSOCIATED CONTEXT

206

Josephine VERDUCI

SM

LM IIIA-LM IIIB

LM IIIA-LM IIIB

LM II

LM II

LM II

Lastros

Neo Chorio

New Hospital Tomb I

New Hospital Tomb II

New Hospital Tomb III

DATE

Knossos North Cemetery Tomb 201

TOMB

Chamber tomb containing two outstretched skeletons places head to foot

Shaft grave containing a single outstretched skeleton, possibly buried in a wooden coffin or on bier

Chamber tomb containing two outstretched skeletons (A & B) buried in wooden coffins or on biers

Chamber tomb

Cremated remains of at least two individuals: male and female

BURIAL TYPE

One bronze spearhead with a butterfly incised on the socket and one goldhilted bronze sword with an ivory pommel and hilt covered by a spirals in repoussé, placed on chest of the skeleton Sandars Type Di dagger with gold-capped rivets; one bronze spearhead and six arrowheads; an unknown number of little copper staples (possibly for the attachment of leather armour or hide on a shield)

One bronze spearhead beneath coffin of Skeleton A

Two spearheads

MILITARY PARAPHERNALIA Naue II sword (appears to have been deliberately damaged); a spearhead with fine relief ridges; small bronze blade fragment; phalara; and 19 boar’s tusks fragments (may have belonged to a helmet). One dagger

Three piriform jars; three lamps; two jugs; two alabastra; one twohandled stemmed goblet; one hole-mouthed jar; one large jar; one razor; three glass beads; one onyx lentoid seal with scene of goddess holding aloft a pair of bowlike objects surmounted by a double axe, and flanked by two griffins; one dark sardonyx lentoid seal with scene of two oxen lying back to back, one three-sided prism seal with gold perforated caps with two faces decorated; one with a ox and shrub and the other with a speared lion; one cylindrical carnelian seal with scene of two lions a wild goat; scraps of ivory; one ivory panel with spiral decoration; three blue paste flattened-globular beads; lump of magnetite; lump of blue glass; one gold toggle with eight facets (possibly for fastening belt or baldric similar to examples form Shaft grave IV at Mycenae, which was found associated with two baldrics)

Three piriform jars; two two-handled stemmed goblets; two jugs; two alabasta; one stirrup-jar; one lamp; one pair of bronze tweezers; two schist plaques in ‘Bird’ amphora; one shark’s tooth; and one grey steatite sealstone decorated with three groups of animals One jug and one alabastron

Sherds

(Incomplete)

One bronze four-sided stand; a possible pair of bronze tweezers; one iron knife; two iron dress pins; one gold ring with a bossed surface; one ivory comb; one ivory mounting; and ivory inlays.

ASSOCIATED CONTEXT

HOOD and DE JONG (supra n. 32) 249-251

HOOD and DE JONG (supra n. 32) 249

L. PRESTON, “A Mortuary Perspective on Political Changes in Late Minoan II-IIIB Crete,” AJA 108 (2004) 321-348 A. KANTA, The Late Minoan III Period in Crete. A Survey of Sites, Pottery and their Distribution (1980) 83 HOOD and DE JONG (supra n. 32) 248-249

COLDSTREAM and CATLING (supra n. 33) 191-195, 517-542

PUBLICATION

MINOAN “WARRIOR GRAVES” 207

LM II

LM IIIA

LM IIIA-LM IIIC

LM IIIC

LM IIIC

LM IIIC

LM II

LM IIIB-LM IIIC

Mavro Spelio Tomb XVIII

Mouliana Tomb A

Mouliana Tomb B

Myrsini Tomb A

Myrsini Tomb B

Palaikastro

Palaikastro “Beehive Tomb”

DATE

New Hospital Tomb V

TOMB

Tholos tomb

Chamber tomb with several interments (used over a longer period so that it cannot be surely dated to LM IIIC) Chamber tomb had been used over a longer period so that it cannot be dated to LM IIIC with certainty Larnax burial

Rectangular tholos tomb; the last interments include an inhumation and a cremation. The cremation burial was contained in a krater decorated with a hunting scene on one side, and a man on horseback carrying a spear and a shield on the other side Rectangular tholos tomb with two burials. Burial 1 within a larnax and Burial 2 upon an earthen and pebble floor

Chamber tomb with two cremations

Chamber tomb containing no skeleton

BURIAL TYPE

Sandars Type Dii sword

One bronze dagger with two rivet holes

Sandars Type Fii sword; Type D sword; other bronze and weapons

Burials 1 and 2 each accompanied by a Naue II sword. Two spearheads (could not be attributed with certainty to either burial). Burial 1 was associated with two pairs of bronze discs (perhaps cymbals or phalara) Naue II sword and other ‘bronze weapons’ inclusive of spearheads

MILITARY PARAPHERNALIA One bronze spearhead similar to that from Tomb III; one Di Type sword; remains of one bronze conical helmet with a knob riveted to the top (presumably perforated to hold a plume) and separate cheek guards (somewhat comparable to Italian types) One Sandars Type Di sword (deliberately damaged); one Type Eii dagger; and one spearhead One Sandars Type F sword; one Naue II sword; and one spearhead

Two round bronze mirrors; one strainer; one pyxis containing a small vase and a pair of bronze tweezers; one fine bronze doubleaxe; three pieces of lead; four glass beads; an unknown number of stone beads One bronze knife; one bronze razor; three pseudamphorae; one cup; one bowl; fragments of thin bone with engraved lines (possibly a comb); one silver ring; one bone pin; and assorted crushed pots

R.C. BOSANQUET, “Excavations at Palaikastro I,” BSA 8 (1901-1902) 303-305

I. KILIAN-DIRLMEIER, Die Schwerter in Griechenland (außerhalb der Peloponnes), Bulgarien und Albanien (1993) 95 I. KILIAN-DIRLMEIER, Die Schwerter in Griechenland (außerhalb der Peloponnes), Bulgarien und Albanien (1993) 62, 82 R.M.A. DAWKINS, “Excavations at Palaikastro IV,” BSA 11 (1904-1905) 290-291

Two triton shells and ca 30 LM IIIA-LM IIIC vases

Two stirrup jars; unspecified bronze tools; and one whetstone

S. XANTHOUDIDES, “Εκ Κρήτης,” AEph (1904) 1-56

S. XANTHOUDIDES, Εκ Κρήτης,” AEph (1904) 1-56

One decorative krater; three bronze vases; one gold ring with a plain shield bezel and another gold ring; two bow fibulae; one bronze pin with globular head (an early type); four rectangular plaques with indentations (possibly a curry-comb for horsegrooming); and an unspecified number of ceramic vases

Burial 1: one gold ring and two stirrup jars. Nearby floor burial: one gold mask and stirrup jars famous for their octopus decoration

FORSDYKE (supra n. 70) 282

HOOD and DE JONG (supra n. 32) 252-253

Two stone vases; three alabastra; one bronze rivet; one bronze nail; one bronze pendant; one bronze band; and one lead button

Two bronze knives; one bronze mirror; one stone bird’s-nest bowl with lid; and fragments of unpainted pottery

PUBLICATION

ASSOCIATED CONTEXT

208

Josephine VERDUCI

SM

LM IIIA

LM IIIA

LM IIIA

LM IIIC

LM IIIB-LM IIIC

LM IIIC-SM

Phaistos, ‘Tombe dei Nobili’, Tomb 8

Phourni

Pigi

Praisos-Foutoula

Praisos “Beehive Tomb”

Prinias Tomb BA

DATE

Pantanassa

TOMB

Pit grave containing a cremation

Tholos tomb

Chamber tomb with remains of two individuals and a fragmentary sarcophagus Tholos tomb containing larnax inhumation burial and one pyxis cremation burial with a second inhumation in the tomb

Child’s burial

Chamber tomb

Tholos tomb with Cremated remains of adult male in each

BURIAL TYPE

A spear and iron sword

One spearhead and one possible bronze headdress consisting of metal bands alternately decorated with a series of ribs and with horizontal rows of rivets Two spearheads; the tip of a bronze dagger (or possibly a knife); and a bone sword-pommel

One sword and four daggers

Two Sandars Type Ci swords; a fragment of plate thought to be armour from a belt; two trapezoidal bronze plates with perforations retaining fragment of thread (possibly from a helmet); and eight arrowheads One Sandars Type Ci sword and one spearhead

MILITARY PARAPHERNALIA One iron dagger and two bronze spearheads

Two bronze vessels; one small jug; one bronze pin; one gold plaque decorated with argonauts (restored); one small piece of gold foil; one gold bracelet decorated with granulated spirals and circles; one gold finger ring with elliptical bezel and decorated with granulation; one gold bead; one gold ivy leaf; one large bronze vessel; and one ivory handle One plain hemispherical bronze bowl without handles (fragments); one lozenge-shaped bronze plate; one palette; broken pottery including two oinochoai; fragments of ivory decorated with a finely-incised rosette and traces of red and yellow colouring; one piece of a bone half-plate with a gold stud attached; one small triton shell; one bone comb (fragments); 23 beads of glazed ceramic; 155 glass beads; one incised bead; one lentoid steatite sealstone; one amygdaloid carnelian sealstone; one gold rosette clothing attachment; numerous fragments of gold leaf; one bronze fibula; one silver dress pin; and one gold finger-ring with an elliptical bezel decorated with cloisonné and granulation Two stirrup jars; oinochoe; one large bronze bowl; one bronze rod; one bronze axe; and three iron pins

One knife; and 16 vases, including an alabstron, a decorated jug and pyxis, and stirrup jars

Silver cup

One gold beads (necklace?) and one two-handled pan (fragment)

One jug; three stirrup jars; two amphorae; two lekythoi; two krateriskoi, one bronze pin; one iron fibula; one amphora; two krateriskoi; one iron knife; one bronze amphoroid krater

ASSOCIATED CONTEXT

G. RIZZA, “Priniàs in età micenea,” in E. DE MIRO et al. (eds), Atti e memorie del secondo Congresso internazionale di micenologia, Roma-Napoli, 14.20 ottobre 1991 (1996) 1101-1110

R.C. BOSANQUET, “Excavations at Praesos I,” BSA 8 (1901-1902) 231-245

I. SAKELLARAKIS, “Excavations at Archanes,” Proceedings of the Archaeological Society (1966) 174-184 Y. TZEDAKIS, “Ανασκαφή εις Αρμένους Ρεθύμνης,” ArchDelt 26 (1971) 513-516 PLATON (supra n. 28) 294-307

E. TEGOU, “Θολωτός τάφος της πρώιμης Εποχής του Σιδήρου στην Παντάνασσα Αμαρίου Ν. Ρεθύμνης,” in N. STAMPOLIDIS, Καύσεις στην Εποχή του Χαλκού και την Πρώιμη Εποχή του Σιδήρου. Πρακτικά του Συμποσίου (2001) 121-153 SAVIGNONI (supra n. 36)

PUBLICATION

MINOAN “WARRIOR GRAVES” 209

LM IIIA

Sellopoulo

LM IIIA-LM IIIB

LM IIIA-LM IIIB

LM IIIA-LM IIIB

LM IIIA-LM IIIB

Sklavoi

Stamnioi Tomb B

Stamnioi Tomb


Stamnioi Tomb 

Tomb 4

LM IIIA

DATE

Psilakis Field

TOMB

Chamber tomb with remains of larnax

Chamber tomb with remains of two individuals

Chamber tomb

Chamber tomb

Chamber tomb (collapsed) with three burials numbered I to III. Burial I: The body was laid in an outstretched position (apparently on a blue-painted wooden bier); Burial II: similar to Burial I but much disturbed; and Burial III: burial placed just inside the door (on its side in a slightly flexed position with no associated weapons)

Inhumation burial of adult man (in situ with the feet pointing northeast and the body laid out on its back). The bronze sword was beneath the skeleton, presumably slung from the shoulder by a baldric

BURIAL TYPE

One spearhead

One dagger

One dagger

One spearhead

MILITARY PARAPHERNALIA Underneath the skeleton was a bronze Type C sword. The hilt plates had perished, but six flatheaded rivets that had once decorated the hilt were preserved. The blade was complete, but snapped in three places Burials I and II each contained weapons. Burial I: a short Sandars Type Di sword (lay across the centre of the burial); two spearheads (on either side of deceased); a six-pronged ‘fishing spear.’ Burial II: a long Sandars Type Di sword (along the left side of the body) with gold-plated rivets and a gold pommel band (broken into four pieces); and an ivory pommel (almost completely rotted). A Sandars Type Eii dagger, also with goldplated rivets and a gold pommel band (found just below the right shoulder) and a small bronze knife

Stirrup jars; one jug; and one whorl

Two razors; one bronze bowl; bronze tweezers; stirrup jars; one three-handled vase; one deep bowl with raised foot; one jug; one ring vase; one whorl; and one necklace of small bluish beads

Three jugs; miniature jugs; stirrup jars; cups; one ring vase; one possible amphora decorated sherd; floral beads; figure of eight beads; and five whorls

POPHAM and CATLING, (supra n. 18) 195-258

Burial I: one bronze mirror; one bronze razor; three bronze vessels; one basin; two large bronze dishes; one bronze bowl; three tripod cauldrons; three jugs; two bowls; one scale pan; one shallow bowl; one piriform jar; one carnelian sealstone; one gold finger ring with an oval bezel decorated with cloisonné; one bronze finger ring with a gold-plated bezel and a representation of a crouching lion; one gold finger ring with an elliptical bezel engraved with a scene of man and tree; one finger ring of coiled gold wire; one gold granulated bead; 32 gold oblate beads; 33 gold double argonaut relief beads; and 148 rosettes of gold foil were laid around the line of stain (possibly a shroud). Burial II: one silver bowl near stomach; one bronze side-spouted bowl; one conical cup; one steatite sealstone; one crystal-quartz sealstone near hands; 38 gold ivy leaf relief beads; 27 gold shell relief beads near skull; 15 ‘tassels’; and triangular fragments of gold foil. Burial I or II: one conical cup; two kylikes; dish near feet containing bronze lamp; one cutter; one bronze fishing-hook; one bronze knife; one bronze mirror; and faience relief beads. The object are similar to those found at Zapher Papoura and to those on the mainland at Tombs 2 and 12 at Dendra and the tholos tomb at Vapheio. Finger rings in Burial I have parallels at Kalyvia, Zapher Papoura Tomb 7, Vapheio, and Isopata Tomb 1 (VERDUCI [supra n. 37 ) (Incomplete)

L. PRESTON, “A Mortuary Perspective on Political Changes in Late Minoan II-IIIB Crete,” AJA 108 (2004) fig. 8 A. KANTA, The Late Minoan III Period in Crete. A Survey of Sites, Pottery and their Distribution (1980) 53 A. KANTA, The Late Minoan III Period in Crete. A Survey of Sites, Pottery and their Distribution (1980) 53 A. KANTA, The Late Minoan III Period in Crete. A Survey of Sites, Pottery and their Distribution (1980)

R.W. HUTCHINSON, “A Late Minoan Tomb at Knossos,” BSA 51 (1956) 68-73

PUBLICATION

Two beaked jugs and another similar vase; one ceramic cup; the remains of one silver and gold cup; one strainer pot; one kylix; one amphora; one lid of a pyxis; two squat jars; three alabastra; three complete bowls and one fragmentary bowl; two lids; one anthropomorphic vase; one jug; and one silver hook pin

ASSOCIATED CONTEXT

210

Josephine VERDUCI

LM IIIC

SM

LM IIIA

LM IIIA

LM IIIA

Vasiliki Ierapetras

Vokastro Koprana Tomb VI

Zapher Papoura Tomb 14 (“Tomb of the Tripod Hearth”)

Zapher Papoura Tomb 36 (“Chieftain’s Grave”)

Zapher Papoura

Zapher Papoura Tomb 43

LM IIIA

LM IIIA

Stavros Galias

Tomb 42

LM IIIA-LM IIIB

DATE

Stamnioi Tomb 

TOMB

Pit grave with skeletal remains of one outstretched individual

Shaft grave with skeletal remains of one outstretched individual

Chamber tomb with skeletal remains of one individual in a rectangular cavity (in a crouched position) and the possible remains of two caskets: one with an ivory-mounted cover, the other of wood with bone inlays Shaft grave with skeletal remains of one outstretched individual

Chamber tomb

Chamber tomb with remains of four individuals Tholos tomb containing a decorated larnax

Chamber tomb with remains of at least 10 individuals

BURIAL TYPE

Sandars Type Ci sword decorated with spirals with ivory pommel and goldplated studs and Type Di sword with onyx pommel and gold-plated hilt, engraved with lions hunting wild goats, and two bronze spearheads Sandars Type Di sword decorated with double lines of connected spirals and gold studs. There were no remains of the pommel except the gold collar that surrounded its base (possibly of perishable material, such as ivory, like that of Grave No 36) Sandars Type Di sword

Sandars Type Gi sword with an ivory handle and a bronze lance-head with flat leaf-shaped blade

Iron sword

One spearhead and one dagger One dagger

MILITARY PARAPHERNALIA One spearhead, Type Fii sword

EVANS (supra n. 34) 60-62

EVANS (supra n. 34) 59-60

Two bronze razors and one oblong whetstone

One razor and one knife

EVANS (supra n. 34) 51-59

A. KANTA, The Late Minoan III Period in Crete. A Survey of Sites, Pottery and their Distribution (1980) 53-54 A. KARETSOU, Prakt (1975) 523-524 R. SEAGER, “Report of excavations at Vasiliki, Crete, in 1906,” University of Pennsylvania Free Museum of Science and Art 2.2 (1906) 111-132 I. KILIAN-DIRLMEIER, Die Schwerter in Griechenland (außerhalb der Peloponnes), Bulgarien und Albanien (1993) 107-109 EVANS (supra n. 34) 35-45

PUBLICATION

One bronze ewer, one frying pan, one two-handled pan, one bronze mirror, 18 gold double argonaut beads near the skull, and three sealstone found near the left wrist: one carnelian amygdaloid sealstone showing an octopus and three sprays; one agate lentoid sealstone showing a horned sheep; one onyx lentoid sealstone showing a lion with an arrow sticking into his shoulder

One tripod stand of plaster; fourteen bronze vessels, including a large three-legged cauldron; one bronze knife; two triangular bronze razors; and a pair of bronze mirrors

(Incomplete)

One gold pendant; carnelian beads; and one flask

One razor and one knife

One piriform jar; one amphora; three stirrup jars; one bowl; two or three small vases; three bronze razors; beads; one whorl; one triton shell; and one sealstone

ASSOCIATED CONTEXT

MINOAN “WARRIOR GRAVES” 211

LM IIIA

LM IIIA

LM IIIA

LM IIIA

LM IIIA

Zapher Papoura Tomb 55

Zapher Papoura Tomb 75

Zapher Papoura Tomb 95

Zapher Papoura Tomb 98

DATE

Zapher Papoura Tomb 44

TOMB

Chamber tomb with remains of two skeletons: one outstretched and one in a painted larnax

Shaft grave with skeletal remains of one outstretched individual Chamber tomb with remains of two skeletons

Pit grave with skeletal remains of one outstretched individual

Shaft grave with skeletal remains of one outstretched individual

BURIAL TYPE

Sandars Type Fii dagger (identical to one from the Acropolis hoard at Athens) Sandars Type Di sword (identical to one from the Acropolis hoard at Athens)

MILITARY PARAPHERNALIA Sandars Type Ci sword decorated with double lines of spirals in relief on the sides of the hilt and the rib of the blade and traces of a revolving ornament on the studs Sandars Type Di with remains of hilt with ivory mounting, one spearhead; and boars’ tusks cut and perforated (possibly from a helmet) One bronze spearhead

One stone vase; one clay chafing-pan; and one bronze razor

EVANS (supra n. 34) 86-87

EVANS (supra n. 34) 83-85

EVANS (supra n. 34) 76-77

EVANS (supra n. 34) 66-67

One knife and one painted stirrup-vase

One bronze knife; one bronze razor; 18 gold cockle shell relief beads (near head); and one plain gold finger ring (by the right hand) Two mirrors; one stirrup-vase; one clay chafing-pan; two black steatite whorls; and one two-handled clay cup

EVANS (supra n. 34) 62

PUBLICATION

One painted stirrup-vase

ASSOCIATED CONTEXT

212

Josephine VERDUCI

MINOAN “WARRIOR GRAVES”

213

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Pl. XXXVa Pl. XXXVb

Gold relief beads from Tomb 4 at Sellopoulo (author’s photograph). Helmet from Praisos-Foutoula (after N. PLATON, “Ανασκαφαίνπεριοχής Πραισούρα,” Prakt [1960] Pl. 241β).

XXXV

a

b

PEACOCK OR POPPYCOCK? INVESTIGATIONS INTO EXOTIC ANIMAL IMAGERY IN MINOAN AND CYCLADIC ART8 This investigation begins with two lines in Sir Arthur Evans’s foundational The Palace of Minos at Knossos in which Evans makes an oft-overlooked observation about the highly problematic “Priest-King Fresco” (Pl. XXXVIa): “The central flower [of the crown] is surmounted by a taller waz-lily, to which are attached long triple plumes, flowing gracefully behind. These finely rendered feathers at once suggest those of a peacock, and part of one of the eyes of a deep blue colour has, in fact, been preserved.”1 Whatever one thinks about the Priest-King Fresco, with its poorly recorded archaeological context and its difficult history of restoration,2 Evans writes definitively in his identification of a peacock feather, an observation first made in print in 1903-19043 and repeated in 1935.4 While Evans’s published photograph of the preserved plumes does not include the fragment painted with the eye,5 the 1926 restoration of the fresco made by Emile Gilliéron fils, used as the frontispiece to Part 2 of the second volume of the Palace of Minos at Knossos,6 includes three stylized peacock feathers with blue-ringed eyes, and the fragments restored as the Priest-King Fresco in the Herakleion Museum include a painted fragment situated in the correct location for a peacock eye, though admittedly the colors have faded and it is difficult to confirm the painted design today. Given the problematic nature of the Priest-King Fresco’s restoration, it would be easy to ignore Evans’s assertion that he observed a peacock’s tail feather, but what if Evans was correct? What if the painting does depict the feathers of that most beautiful of birds whose native habitat is not Greece, nor even the eastern Mediterranean, but the subcontinent of India? It is an interesting possibility, and investigating it leads down a rabbit hole of potential trade and cultural contact (whether direct or

∗

1 2

3

4 5 6

Some years ago, after giving an adventurous lecture on Aegean iconography to an audience of archaeologists in North Carolina, John explained that he very much enjoyed pursuing ideas just to see where they would lead. He warned that the investigatory paths would be unpredictable, and any conclusions were probably going to be highly conjectural, but it was great fun and the intellectual exercise helped draw the disparate facts and theories of Aegean scholarship into meaningful patterns of understanding. That idea stuck with me, and this contribution is my attempt to follow his example. It is offered as evidence of my admiration for John and as thanks for our friendship. Way back when, he was my first professor of archaeology, and although he did not know it at the time, his charismatic teaching, his encyclopedic knowledge, and his enthusiasm for everything archaeological sparked in me an interest in antiquity that eventually became my own life pursuit. I thank John for his help and support over the years – for his enthusiasm for heading down sketchy dirt roads in yet another attempt to find one or another archaeological site, or to climb mountains just because a peak sanctuary might be on top. I thank him for his willingness to discuss with me the ins and outs of my many questions about Aegean archaeology, and for his steady support in all things. Thank you, John. You’re the best (APC). PM II, 2, 777. J. COULOMB, “Le ‘Prince aux lis’ de Knossos reconsidéré,” BCH 103 (1979) 29-50; W.-D. NIEMEIER, “Das Stuckrelief des ‘Prinzen mit der Federkrone’ aus Knossos und minoische Götterdarstellungen,” AM 102 (1987) 65-98; S. SHERRATT, Arthur Evans, Knossos and the Priest-King (2000); S. SHERRATT, “Arthur Evans and the First of the Priest-Kings,” in A. DAKOURI-HILD and S. SHERRATT (eds), Autochthon. Papers presented to O.T.P.K. Dickinson on the occasion of his retirement (2005) 229-241; M. SHAW, “The ‘PriestKing’ Fresco from Knossos: Man, Woman, Priest, King, or Someone Else?,” in A. CHAPIN (ed.), ΧΑΡΙΣ. Essays in Honor of Sara A. Immerwahr (2004) 65-84. A.J. EVANS, “The Palace of Knossos,” BSA 10 (1903-1904) 2: “The centre of the crown was found to be adorned with peacocks’ plumes.” PM IV, 2, 400. PM II, 773, fig. 504A. PM II, 2, Pl. XIV.

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indirect) between the Aegean and south Asia, home of the contemporary Bronze Age Indus Valley civilization. The Aegean, Mesopotamia, and the Indus The Aegean is often regarded as one region in a trifecta, together with Ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia, that engaged in strong, long lasting, and far-reaching exchange networks with one another throughout the Bronze Age. Although trade between these areas is well attested, some of the core raw materials that reflect elite status do not originate in any of these three locations. Lapis lazuli, carnelian, and tin serve as strong and direct indicators of trade with regions found beyond the Zagros Mountains. As such, the dates associated with the spread of those materials to the Aegean can aid in the establishment of the earliest possible dates for (in)direct trade with the far east. In the case of lapis lazuli, exchange extends further from its source mines in Badakhshan, Afghanistan, as time progresses: it can be found in Turkmenistan in the mid-fourth millennium B.C., in Mesopotamia during the Ubaid period (5,300-3,750 B.C.), in Ancient Egypt during the second half of the fourth millennium B.C., and in Anatolia in the mid-third millennium.7 The material may appear on Crete during the late fourth millennium, and in the Indus River Valley by the early Harappan period (3,3002,800 B.C.).8 Tracking lapis exchange essentially serves as a terminus-post-quem for contact, regardless of whether it is traded directly or indirectly, overland or by sea.9 The movement of carnelian and tin may be traced in similar ways as well, and their first occurrence in the Aegean may follow lapis lazuli, as the blue stone mines are located considerably closer to the Aegean than the major potential sources of either of the other two materials. Carnelian, which heralds from the Indus River Valley, is found in the Aegean on the island of Aigina, and it constitutes part of a cache of elite goods that predates the EM III period.10 Of particular note are the two distinct yet overlapping styles found on the beads: first, they were originally biconical barrel-cylinder beads, a shape commonly found in the Indus; second, the beads had been reduced in size and etched with popular Mesopotamian designs, which indicate a clear and particular path at least partially overland and through Mesopotamia before the artifacts arrived at Aigina.11 Similarly, the first evidence for tin survives from the EBA sites of Poliochni, Thermi, and Kastri, which have been associated with sources in the Indus River Valley via isotopic analysis.12 Although this conversation only addresses three raw materials, several others constitute contemporary Aegean imports from the east as well, including ivory, gold, chalcedony, and amethyst.13 In instances like the carnelian beads from Aigina, evidence indicates the paths the objects and materials likely traversed: through Mesopotamia. As such, Mesopotamia appears to function as a sort of “middle man,” through which goods and materials passed before reaching the Aegean. The movement of these desirable raw materials strongly buttresses the following exploration of the evidence for exchange in exotic creatures from the Indus region. And with that segue, this investigation returns to its starting point and explores the

7

8 9

10

11 12

13

V.I. SARIANIDI and L.H. KOWALSKI, “The Lapis Lazuli Route in the Ancient Near East,” Archaeology 24 (1971) 12-13; C.S. COLBURN, “Exotica and the Early Minoan Elite: Eastern Imports in Prepalatial Crete,” AJA 112 (2008) 112. SARIANIDI and KOWALSKI (supra n. 7). T.S. KAWAMI and J. OLBRANTZ, Breath of Heaven, Breath of Earth: Ancient Near Eastern Art from American Collections (2013) 3, 172. J. ARUZ (ed.), The Art of the First Cities. The Third Millennium B.C. from the Mediterranean to the Indus (2003) 240-243; C. REINHOLDT, “The Aegean and Western Anatolia: Social Forms and Cultural Relationships,” in ARUZ ed. (supra) 260-261. ARUZ (supra n. 10). L. WEEKS, “Lead isotope analyses from Tell Abraq, United Arab Emirates: new data regarding the ‘tin problem’ in Western Asia,” Antiquity 73 (1999) 2-7. COLBURN (supra n. 7) 210–212; S. RATNAGAR, Trading Encounters: From the Euphrates to the Indus in the Bronze Age (2004) 106-211.

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possibility that Sir Arthur Evans actually did see a peacock eye on the feather crown of the Priest-King Fresco. Peacocks in Minoan Art? Peacocks are peafowl, the common name given to three species of birds in the pheasant family (Phasianidae), and they are among the largest birds to fly.14 Technically, “peacocks” are male peafowl, whereas females are peahens, though the term “peacock” is commonly used to refer to peafowl of both sexes. For most people, the mental image of a peacock is based on the male blue, or Indian, peacock (Pavo cristatus), whose home range is in India and Sri Lanka (Pl. XXXVIb).15 This bird is easily recognizable: large in size, with a body length ranging from 90-130 cm, and strikingly colored with a bright blue neck, a blue crest, and a train of iridescent green tail feathers reaching 150 cm. These feathers are raised into a great fan and shaken during courtship, at which time each feather’s eye spot, ringed with blue and bronze, creates a dazzling display. Females are approximately the same size but lack the bright colors and have a comparatively modest set of tail feathers (Pl. XXXVIc). Peacocks were first brought to mainland Greece through diplomatic contact with Persia in the fifth century B.C.16 In the Roman empire, peacocks became popular as exotic pets and as tasty tidbits at luxury feasts. 17 The sacred bird of Hera/Juno and the animal that drew her chariot,18 Roman legends of peacocks claimed their flesh was incorruptible, and the birds came to symbolize immortality. 19 In subsequent centuries, peacock imagery entered Early Christian iconography as funerary decoration on catacombs and sarcophagi. 20 But incontrovertible evidence for the presence of peacocks in the Mediterranean world prior to historical times is notably lacking. No physical remains of peacocks have been excavated from either Minoan or Mycenaean contexts, nor do any unmistakable representations of peacocks appear in Aegean artworks. But a few tantalizing clues to the (probably rare) prehistoric presence of peacocks as exotic animal imports can perhaps be identified in the documentary and artistic records of Bronze Age cultures from the native home of peacocks in south Asia through Mesopotamia and possibly into the Aegean. What follows is an exploratory survey of surviving clues, not a comprehensive review of all available evidence. Peacocks, being native to modern India and Pakistan, first appear in art on a decorated vase from Cemetery H at Harappa dating to ca 2300 B.C. They are mentioned in two Old Babylonian poems and count among the riches (in association with gold, silver, ivory and apes) that King Solomon acquired through trade.21 Peacocks were, however, unknown in Egyptian art until the Ptolemaic period. In the Aegean, a few images of birds made from precious materials are depicted with the long necks and luxuriant tails that are reminiscent of peafowl, both male and female. The strongest case can be made for an image of a long-necked bird with an ample tale carved onto an ivory plaque found at Palaikastro, identified by R.M. Dawkins in 1904 as a peacock alighting on the ground in a rocky landscape (Pl. XXXVId).22 Indeed, the bird’s overall proportions, with its distinctively high crest, long neck, exaggerated

14 15

16

17 18

19

20 21 22

Unknown Author, “Peacock (bird),” Britannica Online Encyclopedia, accessed 15 July 2019. The other two species of peafowl are the green (Javanese) peacock (P. muticus), native to southeast Asia, and the Congo peacock (Afropavo congensis) from the Democratic Republic of the Congo in Africa. S. LEWIS and L. LLEWELLYN-JONES, The Culture of Animals in Antiquity (2018) 272, citing M.C. MILLER, Athens and Persia in the Fifth Century BC (1997) 189. LEWIS and LLEWELLYN-JONES (supra n. 16); Pliny, NH X.45. See Ovid, Metamorphoses I, 624, on the death of Hera’s watchman, the many-eyed giant Argus, and Hera’s transformation of his hundred eyes into the eyes of a peacock’s tail. N. GREEN, “Ostrich Eggs and Peacock Feathers: Sacred Objects as Cultural Exchange between Christianity and Islam,” Al-Masaq 18 (2006) 32-33. LEWIS and LLEWELLYN-JONES (supra n. 16) 272. LEWIS and LLEWELLYN-JONES (supra n. 16) 273; Hebrew Bible, Kings 10.22-3. R.M. DAWKINS, “Excavations at Palaikastro. IV,” BSA 11 (1904-1905) 284, fig. 14a; S. HOOD, The Arts in Prehistoric Greece (1978) 120-122, fig. 109.

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tail, and longish legs (proportionately shorter than those of a heron) support the peacock identification. An iconographic parallel can be found in a cultic scene decorating a gold ring found in a cave chamber tomb at Poros, near Herakleion, Crete (HM 1629; Pl. XXXVIIa).23 This ring depicts a male figure saluting a seated female figure (a goddess?) who is flanked antithetically by large birds with raised wings and long tails lowered. The bird on the left has the long neck and modestly long tail of a female peahen; the bird on the right, with a noticeably shorter neck, seems more like a pheasant.24 A similar bird with a long tail and shortish neck flies daringly towards a male figure bent over a baetyl in a gold ring from Sellopoulo, Knossos (Pl. XXXVIIb).25 The magnificent tail suggests that of a peacock; the shorter neck, a pheasant. Perhaps the artist conflated the two species? A similar pair of antithetical birds appears with a female figure on a gold ring (no. 3) recently excavated from the tomb of the so-called Griffin Warrior (Pl. XXXVIIc).26 These birds, also large in size with similarly long tails, longish legs and upraised wings, touch down on rocks in a manner strongly reminiscent of the bird depicted on the ivory plaque from Palaikastro. They come to rest on either side of a staff-bearing female figure whose pointed toes and streaming hair suggests epiphany. The necks of these two birds, however, also seem too short to identify them with confidence as peacocks – perhaps they might also depict pheasants?27 At this point the journey down the investigative rabbit hole takes an unexpected turn – the common pheasant (Phasianus colchicus) is not native to Greece, but originates in Asia, and the species’ original range extended far and wide, from the Black Sea to Taiwan. The subspecies found today in rare pockets of northern Greece, P. c. colchicus (Caucasus pheasants), “appear[s] to have been introduced to Greece in prehistoric times, probably from Colchis on the southeast shores of the Black Sea.”28 So, it seems that the Minoan images surveyed thus far of large, long-tailed birds – whether pheasants or peacocks (or both?) – depict exotic birds whose images (and in the case of the pheasant, actual birds) may well have been introduced to the prehistoric Aegean from points far east. Their consistency (even though the sample is small) suggests further that Minoan artists and their patrons had specific ideas about the appearance of these birds. And to prehistoric audiences, both species, whether the common pheasant or blue (Indian) peacock, would have made spectacular viewing. They belong to the same family (Phasianidae), and their relatively minor physiognomic differences (long vs short necks, differences in size) may have seemed insignificant when compared to the experience of encountering living works of art, whether in physical or artistic form. Unlike John’s oral presentation made years ago, referenced in this contribution’s dedication, this foray into Minoan iconography will not venture further into the realm of possibility. Even though the appearance of a Minoan goddess in the company of a peacock-like bird does seem to anticipate Hera’s iconography by more than a thousand years, there are too many unknowns and too many gaps in the timeline. Instead, this essay will shift its focus to explore another odd detail of Minoan iconography.

23

24

25

26

27

28

N. DIMOPOULOU and G. RETHEMIOTAKIS, “The ‘Sacred Conversation’ Ring from Poros,” in W. MÜLLER (ed.), Minoisch-mykenische Glyptik. Stil, Ikonographie, Funktion. V. Internationales Siegel-Symposium Marburg, 23.-25. September 1999 (2000) 39-56. Contra DIMOPOULOU and RETHEMIOTAKIS (supra n. 23) 48, who suggest an eagle or hawk identification, which is not supported by the length of the birds’ tails. M. POPHAM and H.W. CATLING, “Sellopoulo Tombs 3 and 4: Two Late Minoan Graves near Knossos,” BSA 69 (1974) 223 J8, fig. 14d, Pl. 37a-c. J.L. DAVIS and S.R. STOCKER, “The Lord of the Gold Rings: The Griffin Warrior of Pylos,” Hesperia 85 (2016) 643-645, fig. 11a-e. Alternately, long-necked birds (e.g., swans, geese, herons, etc.) including peacocks often sit (or roost) with their necks folded comfortably over their bodies. G. HANDRINOS and T. AKRIOTIS, The Birds of Greece (1997) 153; see also S. MADGE, P.J.K. McGOWAN, and G.M. KIRWAN, Pheasants, Partridges and Grouse. A Guide to the Pheasants, Partridges, Quails, Grouse, Guineafowl, Buttonquails and Sandgrouse of the World (2002).

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The Snake Goddess and her Serpents As famous as the Priest-King Fresco and embraced worldwide for its depiction of powerful femininity, the so-called “Snake Goddess” faience figurine from the Knossos Temple Repositories is similarly problematic for its heavy restoration and for the complexity of its interpretation (Pl. XXXVIId).29 Yet her (restored) face is familiar, and she continues to serve as the artistic paradigm for Minoan womanhood: creamy skin tones, svelte hour-glass figure, a distinctively Minoan flounced costume cut to display her generous breasts, and of course her symbols of power – a cat crown and upraised arms holding snakes. Perhaps the Snake Goddess remains unquestionably beloved because she meets modern expectations of womanhood. For Evans, the two restorable figurines (the one illustrated here and her larger companion) were evidence of a chthonic cult of the Snake Goddess, the underworld form of his great Minoan Goddess.30 But recently, Emily Miller Bonney has challenged both Evans’s restoration and conception of the Snake Goddess, piece by piece. She has questioned the figure’s identity as a snake handler and has suggested that the one original fragment of an object held in the Snake Goddess’s right hand and restored as a snake’s tail is actually un-snakelike in its form. Miller Bonney wrote, ‘Evans, who had played with the reptiles since childhood’, 31 knew that snakes never have ‘peppermint stripes.’ Indeed the textured surface of the upper original portion of the ‘serpent’ seems to reflect the craftsman’s intent to depict a twisted object such as a rope or cord.”32 And perhaps Miller Bonney is correct, since the more one looks closely at the snake’s tail, the odder it appears (Pl. XXXVIIe). It is not pointed as one would expect of a snake, but neither does it hang like a rope or a cord. In fact, it appears flattened and shaped like a paddle. What might it be? One possibility is that the striped, paddle-shaped tail belongs to a sea snake like the one depicted in Pl. XXXVIIIa. Sea snakes are found in the Indian and Pacific Oceans as far west as the Persian Gulf and the Gulf of Oman, but not in the Mediterranean Sea. They are highly venomous, and like all sea snakes, they breathe air and regularly come up to the sea’s surface to breathe. A recent study identified ten species of sea snake currently living in the Persian Gulf, five of which are banded light and dark. 33 Among these is the Persian Gulf sea snake (Hydrophis lapemoides), which is characterized by a paddle-shaped tail and distinctive dark and light banding along the length of its body (Pl. XXXVIIIb). It, like the other banded sea snakes of the Persian Gulf, closely resembles the creature or object held by the Snake Goddess. Perhaps an even closer match in terms of appearance and behavior is the yellow-lipped sea krait (Laticauda colubrina), alternately known as the banded sea snake or the colubrine sea krait. This sea snake also has distinctive black and white banding and a paddle-shaped tail (Pl. XXXVIIIa), but adults are semi-aquatic and frequently come up on dry land to rest and reproduce. Their venom is highly toxic, but the snakes are not aggressive and people can easily pick them up.34 The parallel with the Snake Goddess figurine is uncanny. Today yellow-lipped sea kraits are found along coral reefs from the eastern Indian Ocean as far west as the Indian subcontinent, so if the yellow-lipped sea krait did find its way to the Aegean as an exotic import, the creature is surely an intrepid traveler. In all, the sea snake identification, tentative though it is, offers a potentially tidy solution to the tricky iconographic problem of the paddle-shaped tail. The snakes held by the Snake Goddess’s taller companion, however, are spotted and clearly describe a different species. As always in Minoan art, questions linger. 29 30 31 32

33

34

PM I, 500-505; M. PANAGIOTAKI, The Central Palace Sanctuary at Knossos (1999). PM I, 500. J.A. MacGILLIVRAY, Minotaur. Sir Arthur Evans and the Archaeology of the Minoan Myth (2000) 223. E. MILLER BONNEY, “Disarming the Snake Goddess: A Reconsideration of the Faience Figurines from the Temple Repositories at Knossos,” JMA 24 (2011) 178. M. REZAIE-ATAGHOLIPOUR et al., “Sea snakes (Elapidae, Hydrophiinae) in their westernmost extent: an updated and illustrated checklist and key to the species in the Persian Gulf and Gulf of Oman,” ZooKeys 622 (6 October 2016) 129-164, https://zookeys.pensoft.net/articles.php?id=9939, accessed 20 June 2019. See, for example, the tourist photographs at http://www.mysabah.com/wordpress/snake-island-ofpulau-tiga/, accessed 20 June 2019.

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Monkeys An important distinction must be noted between the exotic species discussed here. Peacocks, pheasants, and sea kraits belong to animal types that are generally represented throughout the Aegean: birds and snakes are indigenous to most areas, regardless of particular species. At least in general family, they are familiar, identifiable, and they constitute parts of the core Aegean iconographic arsenal from which exotic species are distinguished. It is essentially the different traits of these particular species that visually set them apart from the local fauna: the banded body and flattened ends (head and tail) of the sea krait, distinguish it from the spotted and rounder bodies of local snakes, and the outlandishly large, iridescent plumage of the peacock sets it well apart from the comparatively dumpy partridge or rock dove. No evidence indicates that any species of monkey, however, is native to Mainland Greece, the Cycladic Islands, or Crete during the Bronze Age.35 As such, Aegean people had no familiar creature with which to compare monkeys; they are inherently something else that originates from elsewhere. Perhaps because of this, and due to the proximity of Egypt as a possible source for monkeys and their associated imagery, traditional scholarship tends to regard Aegean monkey iconography as related to or even descended from Ancient Egyptian monkey imagery, in terms of iconography and often ideology.36 Before continuing, it is integral to note that the authors are proposing an additional potential region from which monkey iconography may come, as opposed to arguing that the Indus is the only region from which it comes. The polyvalent relationships between Crete and Egypt have long been explored and continue to be referenced, at times almost canonically, and these connections cannot and should not be denied. Rather than retrace those footsteps, however, the authors seek instead to buttress preexisting work by attempting to address some of the outliers that do not quite fit with the model of Aegean iconography as largely Egyptianized. Three distinct aspects of Aegean monkey iconography indicate possible connections to the Indus: figurines, glyptic art, and wall paintings. The earliest evidence for such far-reaching trade survives as an ivory monkey seal figurine from EM III Trapeza, Crete. The next two elements manifest in wall paintings and in glyptic art from the LC IA site of Akrotiri, at Thera. Although from disparate periods, these artifacts bear evidence for both exchange as far as the Indus River Valley and the route such iconography may have taken to arrive in the Aegean. The earliest known possible evidence for such trade in monkey imagery survives as one of the EM III ivory monkey figurines found at Trapeza, Crete (Pl. XXXVIIIc).37 Recovered from a funerary context, this early artifact bears multifaceted iconographic indicators that mark it as a clear outlier from the other Early Minoan Egyptianizing monkey figurines. The figurine and seal clearly originate further afield than

35

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37

E.D. Van BUREN, The Fauna of Ancient Mesopotamia as Represented in Art (1939) 22-24; M.E.L. MALLOWAN, Nimrud and Its Remains (1966) 528-530; S. DUNHAM, “The Monkey in the Middle,” Zeitschrift für Assyriologie und Vorderasiatische Archäologie 75 (1985) 234-235. C. GREENLAW, How Monkeys Evolved in Egyptian and Minoan Art and Culture (2005) 71; ID., Monkeying Around the Mediterranean: A Fresh Perspective on Ancient Primates (2006) 63; ID., The Representation of Monkeys in the Art and Thought of Mediterranean Cultures: A New Perspective on Ancient Primates (2011) 7; J.A. PHILLIPS, Aegyptiaca on the Island of Crete in Their Chronological Context: A Critical Review I (2008) 170-182. J.D.S. PENDLEBURY, The Archaeology of Crete: An Introduction (1939) 87, Pl. 13.2; C. ZERVOS, L’art de la Crète Néolithique et Minoenne (1956) Pl. 208; CMS II.1; P. YULE, Early Cretan Seals. A Study of Chronology (1980) 100, 151; C. LAMBROU-PHILLIPSON, Hellenorientalia. The Near Eastern Presence in the Bronze Age Aegean, ca. 3000-1100 B.C. Interconnections Based on the Material Record and the Written Evidence, Plus Orientalia, A Catalogue of Egyptian, Mesopotamian, Mitannian, Syro-Palestinian, Cypriot, and Asia Minor Objects from the Bronze Age Aegean (1990) 270, fig. 236, Pl. 59; J.A. PHILLIPS, The Impact and Implications of the Egyptian and Egyptianizing Material Found in Bronze Age Crete ca. 3000-ca. 1100 B.C., Unpublished PhD Dissertation, University of Toronto (1991) 784, fig. 387; A. KARETSOU, Κρήτη-Αιγυπτος. Πολιτισμικοί δεσμοί τριών χιλιετιών. Κατάλογος (2000) fig. 154; M.N. PAREJA, Monkey and Ape Iconography in Aegean Art (2017) 53-54, fig. 5.1.

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the Aegean or its immediate environs.38 The three key iconographic indicators are the animal’s pose, the lean and lanky style in which the subject is rendered, and the cross-and-chevron pattern on the bottom of the seal. In contrast, the other figurines show one or two massy creatures, carved from vaguely pyramidal shaped raw materials – most often ivory, but with alternate materials such as steatite, as well (Pl. XXXVIIId). The knees are pulled up to the chest so that the body is one solid mass, only topically carved to show the animal’s distinguishing features. Importantly, no voids are created in the bodies of the figurines except for the drilling of suspension holes. In stark contrast to these thick, stumpy figurines, the outlier from Trapeza clearly features carefully articulated legs, arms, and even part of its tail. The unfurled pose and lanky proportions show a figurine strikingly different from the others known from contemporary Crete. The motif of a monkey seated on a stool hearkens to Altyn Tepe in Bactria, a region just west of the Indus River Valley.39 The compartmented metal stamp seals from Altyn Tepe often show monkeys in profile that either sit or crouch on stools,40 and although the item from Crete is a figurine rather than a seal motif, the parallels in pose and composition are clear. The other figurines from EM III Crete do not sit on a stool or seat (or base) of any kind, yet the upright-seated figurine appears not only as though sitting in an upright human pose, but also possesses a spherical base, on the bottom of which the seal pattern is inscribed. Notably, other entities are shown seated on stools in compartmented metal stamp seals as well, but they all constitute fantastic creatures.41 The monkey is the only “real” animal depicted, which may belie its special status as something considerably more than a commonly occurring creature.42 Finally, the bottom of the figurine functions as a seal, and as such, it bears a cross-and-chevron motif inside a circular field. Although the pattern is uncommon in Crete during this period, it is known from contemporary Near Eastern metal molds,43 as well as from seals found in EBA southern Afghanistan, Seistan, and Altyn Tepe, where the technology of seal carving and use was certainly established by the EBA.44 From even earlier contexts in the Indus (ca. 3,500 B.C.), the cross-and-chevron motif is widespread and its use continues through the Late Harappan Period (1,500 B.C.). Of particular note is the dual nature and portability of this single piece. As such a small object, it is easy to carry and thus particularly given to physical transport and ideological transmission. These aspects are amplified with the polyvalent identity of the item (figurine/bead/seal) as an object of personal adornment and possibly personal identification – key aspects of elite identity during the EBA. The object’s distinctly far-eastern style, pose, and seal motif set it starkly apart from other EBA monkey and ape 38

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M.N. PAREJA, “Early Evidence of Aegean-Indus Trade,” in L. RECHT and K. ZEMANWISNIEWSKA (eds), Animal Iconography in the Archaeological Record: New Approaches, New Dimensions (forthcoming 2020). H. PITTMAN, Art of the Bronze Age: Southeastern Iran, Western Central Asia, and the Indus Valley (1984) 53, 56. P.O. HARPER, J. ARUZ, and F. TALLON (eds), The Royal City of Susa: Ancient Near Eastern Treasures in the Louvre (1992) 97. HARPER, ARUZ, and TALLON (supra n. 40). H. PITTMAN (supra n. 39). REINHOLDT (supra n. 10) 257-259, figs 163b, 163c, and 164; C. REINHOLDT, “The Early Bronze Age Jewellery Hoard from Kolonna, Aigina,” in ARUZ ed. (supra n. 10) 260. H. PITTMAN (supra n. 39) 52; J.M. KENOYER pers. comm. April 2019. Parallels are found throughout the surrounding regions as well, to include Chanhu-Daro, Pirak, Kot Diji, and the Bactria-Margiana Archaeological Complex; V. SCHINDE, G.L. POSSEHL, and M. AMERI, “Excavations at Gilund 2001-2003: The Seal Impressions and Other Finds,” in U. FRANKE-VOGT and H.-J. WEISSHAAR (eds), South Asian Archaeology 2003. Proceedings of the Seventeenth International Conference of the European Association of South Asian Archaeologists (7–11 July 2003, Bonn) (2005) 159-264, figs 8 no. 3, 9 nos 2 and 3, 11 nos 2 and 4; E.J.H. MACKAY, “Chanhu-daro Excavations 1935–1936,” American Oriental Series 20 (1943) Pl. LXIX.2, no. 3; J-F. ENAULT, Fouilles de Pirak. Fouilles du Pakistan 2 (1979) Pl. XLV, C; P. AMIET, “Antiquities of Bactria and Other Iran in the Louvre Collection,” in G. LIGABUE and S. SALVATORI (eds), Bactria. An Ancient Oasis Civilization from the Sands of Afghanistan (1988) fig. 13; V.I. SARIANIDI, Myths of Ancient Bactria and Margiana on its Seals and Amulets (1998) seal no. 551.

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figurines. When this is coupled with notions of Aegean identity construction and negotiation in relation to Near Eastern, Mesopotamian, and Egyptian elite cultures, an image emerges in which the figurine may be read as an indication of elite personal identity that seeks to both maintain and negotiate ties farther east. Trade between the Aegean and Indus is not steady and constant throughout the Bronze Age. Rather, evidence for this early far-reaching trade appears predominantly during the EBA II-III periods, and it virtually disappears at the end of the Early Bronze Age as the result of the widespread dessication period that heavily affected Egypt, the Near East, and to a lesser extent the Aegean.45 The ramifications of the event are visible in the archaeological record in terms of general population movement (abandonment and invasion, among others).46 From the cessation of this period onward, these regions not only reestablish and resecure trade with their immediate neighbors, but they reforge relationships from earlier extended exchange networks. This ebb and flow of long-distance trade relations underlines a recent advancement in the understanding of two key wall paintings from the Cyclades: the Offering to the Seated Goddess Fresco47 (Pl. XXXIXa) and the Monkeys Fresco (Pl. XXXIXb-c).48 The first of these two wall paintings clearly depicts a composition that belies a strong and longstanding relationship between the Aegean and 45

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P.P. BETANCOURT, The Bronze Age Begins. The Ceramics Revolution of Early Minoan I and the New forms of Wealth that Transformed Prehistoric Society (2008) 103; M. WIENER, “Contacts: Crete, Egypt, and the Near East circa 2000 B.C.,” in J. ARUZ (ed.), Cultures in Contact. From Mesopotamia to the Mediterranean in the Second Millennium B.C. (2013) 34. H. WEISS, M.-A. COURTY, W. WETTERSTROM, F. GUICHARD, L. SENIOR, R. MEADOW, and A. CURNOW, “The Genesis and Collapse of Third Millennium North Mesopotamian Civilization,” Science 261 (1993) 995; H. DALFES, H. NÜZHET, G. KUKLA, and H. WEISS (eds), Third Millennium B.C. Climate Change and Old World Collapse. Proceedings of a Conference Held at Kemer, Turkey, September 19-24, 1994 (1997); G. FIORENTINO, V. CARACUTA, L. CALCAGNILE, M. D’ELIA, P. MATTHIAE, F. MAVELLI, and G. QUARTA, “Third Millennium B.C. Climate Change in Syria Highlighted by Carbon Stable Isotope Analysis of 14C-AMS dated plant remains from Ebla,” Palaeography, Palaeoclimatology, Palaeoecology 266 (2008) 51; WIENER (supra n. 45) 34; D.B. REDFORD, Egypt, Canaan, and Israel in Ancient Times (1992) 61-62; A. MAZAR, Archaeology of the Land of the Bible, 10,000-586 B.C.E. (1990) 151-173; S.E. FALCONER, “Village Economy and Society in the Jordan Valley: A Study of Bronze Age Rural Complexity,” in G.M. SCHWARTZ and S.E. FALCONER (eds), Archaeological View from the Countryside. Village Communities in Early Complex Societies (1994) 121-132, 140-142; G.M. SCHWARTZ, “Taking the long view on collapse: A Syrian perspective,” in C. KUZUCUOGLOU and C. MARRO (eds), Sociétés humaines et changement climatique à la fin du troisième millénaire. Une crise a-t-elle eu lieu en Haute Mésopotamie? Actes du collque de Lyon, 5-8 décembre 2005 (2007) 52; H.W. CATLING, “Archaeology in Greece, 1973-1974,” Archaeological Reports 20 (1973-1974) 34; C. NOWICKI, Defense Sites in Crete, c. 1200-800 B.C. (LM IIIB/IIIC through Early Geometric) (2000) 31-32; L.V. WATROUS, “State Formation (Middle Minoan IA),” in L.V. WATROUS, D. CHATZĒ-VALLIANOU, H. BLITZER, and J. BENNETT (eds), The Plain of Phaistos. Cycles of Social Complexity in the Mesara Region of Crete (2004) 266-267; J. MOODY, “Environment Change and Minoan Sacred Landscapes,” in A.L. D’AGATA and A. VAN DE MOORTEL (eds), Archaeologies of Cult. Essays on Ritual and Cult in Crete in Honor of Geraldine C. Gesell (2009) 245-246. S. MARINATOS, Excavations at Thera VII (1976) 30-38, Pls B-E, K, 42b-42d, 59-61; N. MARINATOS, Art and Religion in Thera. Reconstructing a Bronze Age Society (1984) figs.- 40-42, 44; EAD., Minoan Religion. Ritual, Image, and Symbol (1993) fig. 213; C. DOUMAS, The Wall Paintings of Thera (1992) 126, figs 122-128; C. PALYVOU, Akrotiri Thera. An Architecture of Affluence 3,500 Years Old (2005) 30, fig. 27; A.G. VLACHOPOULOS, “The Wall Paintings from the Xeste 3 Building at Akrotiri, Thera: Towards an Interpretation of the Iconographic Programme”, in N.J. BRODIE, J. DOOLE, G. GAVALAS, and C. RENFREW (eds), Horizon. A Colloquium on the Prehistory of the Cyclades, McDonald Institute for Archaeological Research, Unviersity of Cambridge, March 25–28, 2004 (2008) 451-456, figs 41.19-41.21. S. MARINATOS, Excavations at Thera II (1969) 53-54, fig. 1.31; ID., Excavations at Thera III (1970) 36-37, 6364; ID., Excavations at Thera IV (1971) 45-46; MARINATOS 1984 (supra n. 47) 19, 106-116; EAD., “MinoanCycladic Syncretism,” in D.A. HARDY, C.G. DOUMAS, J.A. SAKELLARAKIS, and P.M. WARREN (eds), Thera and the Aegean World III. Proceedings of the Third International Congress, Santorini, Greece, 3-9 September 1989 (1990) 370-371; S.A. IMMERWAHR, Aegean Painting in the Bronze Age (1990) 41-43; DOUMAS (supra n. 47) 120-123, figs 85-89; GREENLAW 2005 (supra n. 36) 71; PALYVOU (supra n. 47) 30, 64, figs 27, 76.

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Mesopotamia. The second wall painting illustrates the intimate knowledge of Cycladic artists with a species indigenous to the Indus. The Offering to the Seated Goddess wall painting from Room 3a of Xeste 3 at Akrotiri, Thera shows a composition in which a young woman and monkey face toward the right and approach a Seated Goddess, who faces left to meet them. A leashed griffin stands behind the seated deity on her raised tripartite platform. Parallels and abbreviations of this scene survive in Aegean seals and sealings (Pl. XXXIXd).49 This Cycladic scene references a long tradition of Presentation Scenes in Mesopotamian art, which survives particularly well in cylinder seals. For instance, a chlorite cylinder seal from Ur dates to the early third millennium B.C. and shows two female figures facing right, approaching a larger seated figure in a flounced skirt who sits on a raised platform and faces left (Pl. XXXIXe).50 The seated figure extends a hand toward the approaching pair, and a monkey floats in the space between the two parties. The basic composition of these two images is nearly identical, and it bears great implications for the artistic and perhaps even ideological and ritual parallels between the Aegean and Mesopotamia.51 The centrality of this Cycladic wall painting to Bronze Age scholars’ understanding of the LC IA period cultic behavior is pivotal, and when taken in tandem with its prime location in a ritual structure, it may be considered one of the core components of ritual imagery in Aegean wall painting. Both Aegean and Mesopotamian presentation scenes raise an important question, however: from where did the monkeys in these scenes come? As previously stated, monkeys are not indigenous to the Aegean, Near East, or Mesopotamia, and so scholarship traditionally holds that they are exotic imports from Egypt. A recent collaborative study between primatologists, a taxonomic illustrator, and art historian/archaeologist yielded a new identification for the monkeys from room 6 of Building Complex Beta at Akrotiri, Thera. 52 Rather than the vervet or grivet (Chlorocebus aethiops; Pl. XLa-b),53 the species depicted in these wall paintings is instead the Hanuman langur (Semnopithecus; Pl. XLc-d). Essentially, vervets do not exhibit the tail positions or general proportions of the animals depicted in the Monkeys Fresco; the C-shaped and S-shaped tails as well as the lanky yet graceful proportions belong to langurs, a species native to modern-day Bhutan, Nepal, and India. The identification of this species by primatologists and the taxonomic illustrator bears significant implications for both the precision and skill of the Cycladic artists’ rendering, as well as the larger network that must have been in place to allow for such a keen observation in order to render an image with this high degree of specific detail. At present, the authors do not suggest here that langurs were imported to the Aegean. Rather, extensive evidence indicates that elite members of society in Mesopotamia imported not only monkeys, but many animals from the Indus by the beginning of the Late Bronze Age.54 It is possible, especially in light of the longstanding and strong relationship between the Aegean and Mesopotamia, that Aegean peoples (in this instance, likely artists) travelled to Mesopotamia and observed langurs first-hand. The details rendered in the wall painting are so distinctly precise that direct examination of the animals was necessary to create the preliminary sketches that would presumably have been used for the wall painting.55 With extended study and perhaps even interaction, the Bronze Age artists are capable of recording details

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CMS II.3 103, an oval seal ring from LM IIIA Kalyvia, presents a particularly striking parallel. British Museum object number 115418. For an extended discussion regarding Mesopotamian Presentation Scenes with monkeys, as well as the interpretations and relationships that have with the Offering to the Seated Goddess Fresco, please see PAREJA (supra n. 37) Chapters 4, 12, and 13. M.N. PAREJA, T. McKINNEY, J. MAYHEW, J.M. SETCHELL, R. HEATON, and S. NASH, “A New Identification of the Monkeys Depicted in a Bronze Age Wall Painting from Akrotiri, Thera,” Primates (forthcoming 2020). GREELAW (supra n. 36, 2011) 43-45; PHILLIPS (supra n. 36) 171-173. PAREJA (supra n. 38); DUNHAM (supra n. 35) 234-264. The authors are not currently arguing that the wall painting was created with animals nearby, and so the only remaining explanation for such a precise rendering of the langur is to advocate for the existence of some sort of study and/or preliminary sketch.

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of physical form, varieties between facial markings, as well as impressions of the animals’ graceful movements – all of which are hallmarks used and readily understood by those who closely study and frequently interact with monkeys today: primatologists and tanxomonic illustrators. Conclusions This foray into exotic animal iconography in Minoan and Cycladic art of the Aegean Bronze Age suggests the existence of past interactions, communications, and exchanges of goods and/or information among peoples in lands far distant from one another. How these exchanges occurred – whether by direct or indirect contact, through merchant trade or elite gift exchange, or perhaps via other means – remains unknown and perhaps unknowable. Other scholars may debate those questions. Our point is simply that art preserves visual evidence of past interconnections among peoples and places, and these contacts are likely to be more complex and far-ranging than is generally understood today. Even if definitive conclusions cannot yet be drawn about Aegean familiarity with Indian blue peacocks, sea snakes of the Indian Ocean, and langurs of the Indian subcontinent, then at least some pieces to the puzzles are fitting together in new and adventurous ways. Anne P. CHAPIN Marie Nicole PAREJA

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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Pl. XXXVIa Pl. XXXVIb

Priest-King Fresco. Photo: Anne P. Chapin. Male blue (Indian) peafowl (Pavo cristatus) in Hodal, Faridabad District, Haryana, India. Photo: J.M. Garg. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Indian_Peacock_(Pavo_cristatus)_at_a_rooftop_near_Hodal _ I_Picture_2176.jpg Pl. XXXVIc Female blue (Indian) peafowl (Pavo cristatus). Photo: swoop1981-Pfau. https://en.wikipedia.org/ wiki/Indian_peafowl#/media/File:Pavo_cristatus_Tierpark_Hagenbeck,_Hamburg,_Germany_-female -8a_(1).jpg Pl. XXXVId Ivory plaque depicting a peacock, from Palaikastro, Crete. Drawing: R. Byrd after DAWKINS (supra n. 22) fig. 14a. Pl. XXXVIIa-c Possible depictions of peacocks or peacock-like birds: a. Gold ring from Poros, Crete (HM 1629). Drawing: R. Byrd after DIMOPOULOU and RETHEMIOTAKIS (supra n. 23) fig. 4c. b. Gold ring from Sellopoulo, Crete. Drawing: R. Byrd after POPHAM and CATLING (supra n. 25) fig. 14d. c. Gold ring from the Tomb of the Griffin Warrior, Pylos. Drawing: R. Byrd after DAVIS and STOCKER (supra n. 26) fig. 11a. Pl. XXXVIId-e “Snake Goddess” faience figurine, from the Temple Repositories, Knossos: d. Front view of the figurine. Photo: A. Chapin. e. Detail of the figurine showing the paddle-shaped tail of a possible sea snake. Photo: Anne P. Chapin. Pl. XXXVIIIa Yellow-lipped sea krait (Laticauda colubrina) with its paddle tail clearly visible. Photo: Jens Petersen. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Laticauda_colubrina#/media/File:Laticauda_colubrina_L embeh.jpg Pl. XXXVIIIb Persian Gulf sea snake (Hydrophis lapemoides). Photo: Keith D.P. Wilson. https://www.flickr.com/ photos/wislonhk/16130668827 Pl. XXXVIIIc Upright Seated Monkey Figurine from Trapeza, Crete. After KARETSOU (supra n. 37) 173, fig. 154. Pl. XXXVIIId Seated Monkey Figurine from Tholos Tomb A, Platanos. Drawing: M.N. Pareja. Pl. XXXIXa Offering to the Seated Goddess Fresco, Room 3A, Xeste 3, Akrotiri. Drawing by Anne P. Chapin. Pl. XXXIXb-c Monkeys Fresco, Room 6, Building Complex Beta, Akrotiri, Thera: b. West Wall. Image courtesy of the Photo Archive of the Thera Akrotiri Excavations. c. North Wall. Image courtesy of the Photo Archive of the Thera Akrotiri Excavations. Pl. XXXIXd CMS II.3 103. Drawing and Photograph of an Aegean Presentation Scene. Image Courtesy of the CMS Heidelberg. Pl. XXXIXe Line Drawing of Presentation Scene on a Cylinder Seal from Ur. British Museum Object Number 115418. Pl. XLa-b Images of Vervets: a. At Rest, image courtesy of Arkive.org, Photo: Thomas M. Butynski and Yvonne A. de Jong. b. Leaping, image courtesy of Arkive.org, Photo: Thomas M. Butynski and Yvonne A. de Jong. Pl. XLc-d Images of Hanuman Langurs: c. At a Temple with S-Shaped Tail. d. With a C-Shaped Tail.

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ART AND TRANSCENDENCE: ANOTHER LOOK AT BRONZE AGE IMAGES OF HUMAN-ANIMAL COMPOSITES Various scholars have addressed the significance of monstrous imagery in the ancient world, giving visual form to powerful forces beyond the natural world.1 There is voluminous literary and visual evidence for a variety of unnatural creatures in the ancient Near East.2 Citing such texts as the Babylonian creation myth, Joan Goodnick Westenholz explains that “Although they were not gods… (Near Eastern) monsters were considered to be responsible for certain natural phenomena…” They “were immortal but vulnerable… agents and executors of the will of the gods.”3 Jo Ann Scurlock elaborates, using extensive textual evidence and mentioning a number of specific lion-headed creatures: “In ancient Mesopotamia, evil spirits were imagined as “mixed beings,” human in strength but essentially animalian in character… in human form but with the hands and feet and especially the heads of animals... Being part animal themselves, mixed beings were the perfect choice to ward off real animals or demons in the form of animals.”4 Edith Porada, who distinguished “monsters” on four legs from “demons” on two legs in ancient Near Eastern art, posited that, in contrast to quadrupeds combining powerful and dangerous animal features alone, those with animal and human attributes were more beneficent toward man.5 Before turning to these creatures, it may be instructive to review the origins of rendering aspects of the transcendental world in the ancient Mediterranean by using anthropomorphic imagery, enhanced when merged with that of powerful animals. Some of the clearest evidence comes from the Nile Valley. Erik Hornung emphasizes the origins of animal elements in divine representation during the predynastic period as a prelude to the depiction of Egyptian gods with animal heads, animal horns or in fully animal form. He cites the “Battlefield palette,” which shows naked human enemies defenseless against “animal powers…” He further notes the presence of one human figure wearing an animal skin, who “partakes of animal potency at least through its clothing… men …felt themselves defenseless without an animal disguise. Animals still appear to be the most powerful and efficacious beings, far superior to men in all their capacities… in late predynastic times the powers that determine the course of events were mostly conceived in animal form.”6 Endowing humans with animal powers, as expressed in hybrid imagery, appears to be the primary way of elevating them out of the natural realm. In Egypt, as Henry Fischer points out, the “menagerie of animal-headed gods” are first of all “hieroglyphic composites,” with a logic to their most essential elements – their heads – being in animal form. Fisher differentiates these “elegant” creatures from Egyptian monsters: frightening apotropaic beings that by the Middle Kingdom appear in desert scenes and are rendered on magical instruments used to protect childbearing, the lion-man Bes among them, often

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E. PORADA, “Introduction,” in A.E. FARKAS, P.O. HARPER and E. HARRISON (eds), Monsters and Demons in the Ancient and Medieval Worlds. Papers Presented in Honor of Edith Porada (1987) 1; B. SAX, Imaginary Animals. The Monstrous, the Wondrous and the Human (2013) 250; D. WENGROW, The Origins of Monsters. Image and Cognition in the First Age of Mechanical Reproduction (2014) 109, 73. E. REINER, “Magic Figurines, Amulets, and Talismans,” in FARKAS, HARPER and HARRISON eds (supra n. 1) 27-36. J.G. WESTENHOLZ, “Hybrid Creatures in the Ancient Near East: Their Character and Role,” in J.G. WESTENHOLZ (ed.), Dragons, Monsters and Fabulous Beasts – Jerusalem, Bible Lands Museum (2004) 14. J. SCURLOCK, “Animals in Ancient Mesopotamian Religion,” in B.J. COLLINS, A History of the Animal World in the Ancient Near East (2001) 361-362, 364. PORADA (supra n. 1) 1; it is interesting that “monsters” were defined as human-animal composites during the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, see D. GILMORE, Monsters, Evil Beings, Mythical Beasts and all Manner of Imaginary Terrors (2003) 8. E. HORNUNG, Conceptions of God in Ancient Egypt: The One and the Many (1996) 104-105.

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spitting snakes like his companion Taweret.7 In the Near East there are many others, perhaps most well known the Assyro-Babylonian wind-demon Pazuzu, whose dangerous animal attributes, added to a human body, also provided the fearsome strength to protect women in childbirth from other demonic forces depicted solely with animal elements.8 John Younger, to whom this modest contribution is dedicated, has both catalogued monstrous images on Aegean seals and has addressed the possibility that some represent people wearing animal pelts and masks: “… people-monsters do not necessarily have to be “real” monsters, but rather people dressed or masked as lions, bulls, agrimia, etc.”9 Regarding humans dressed as animals, there is Egyptian evidence for the priestly embodiment of a divinity by wearing a mask.10 In the ancient Near East, we appear to have – in addition to textual evidence – depictions of shamanic figures enhanced with animal attributes that are not clearly integral parts of their bodies.11 In more contemporary times, as illustrated for instance by Karen Polinger Foster and Verrier Elwin (Pl. XLIa), dancers with animal headdresses (and costumes) are common in the ritual performances of traditional societies.12 Such practice is explained by Terence DuQuesne: “wild creatures are considered to be repositories of mana – magical power – which is why so many tribal initiations feature the wearing of faunal masks or pelts.”13 Mircea Eliade notes that the shaman, “when initiating the gait of an animal or putting on its skin was acquiring a superhuman mode of being” which led to ecstatic “communion with cosmic life.”14 Often cited as relevant to the discussion is the depiction of profile animal protomes extending to the shoulders of fully garbed human figures on Late Bronze Age Cypriot elaborate style cylinder seals.15 Those with bull, lion and griffin heads often appear together, along with figures that are fully human in appearance, with whom they may share animal prey. However, on a number of scenes, bovine and griffin-headed figures may dominate supernatural creatures such as sphinxes and griffins, possibly calling

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H.G. FISCHER, “The Ancient Egyptian Attitude to the Monstrous,” in FARKAS, HARPER and HARRISON eds (supra n. 1) 13-16; J. ARUZ, K. BENZEL and J. EVANS (eds), Beyond Babylon: Art, Trade and Diplomacy in the Second Millennium B.C. (2008) 147; for images of Bes in other media, see 136, 148-150; for the reception of Taweret and Bes/Beset in the Aegean, see J. WEINGARTEN, The Transformation of Egyptian Taweret into the Minoan Genius (1991); J. WEINGARTEN, “The Arrival of Egyptian Taweret and Bes[et] on Minoan Crete: Contact and Choice,” in L. BOMBADIERI, G. GUARDUCCI, V. ORSI and S. VALENTINI (eds), Identity & Connectivity: Proceedings of the 16th Symposium on Mediterranean Archaeology, SOMA 2012 (2013) 371-78. J. BLACK and A. GREEN, Gods, Demons and Symbols of Ancient Mesopotamia (1992) 147-148. J. YOUNGER, Iconography of Late Minoan and Mycenaean Sealstones and Finger Rings (1988) 352; J. YOUNGER, discussion on J.L Crowley’s and M. Wedde’s papers,” in R. LAFFINEUR and W.-D. NIEMEIER (eds), POLITEIA. Society and State in the Aegean Bronze Age (1995) 505. C. PRICE, Egypt at the Manchester Museum: Masks and Masking in ancient Egypt (2013) https:// egyptmanchester.wordpress.com/2013/03/25/masks-and-masking-in-ancient-egypt; R. BIANCHI, “The Case against Extensive Masking in Ancient Egypt,” in T. CELENKO (ed.), Egypt in Africa (1996) 75-77, argues against the interpretation of Egyptian composite divinities as masked humans, unless clearly depicted as such, with masks a royal prerogative except possibly for the depiction of the priest of Anubis: see also 71, ill. 63. See J. ARUZ and R. WALLENFELS, Art of the First Cities. The Third Millennium B.C. from the Mediterranean to the Indus (2003) 46-48. K.P. FOSTER, “Animal Hybrids, Masks, and Masques in Aegean Ritual,” in E. ALRAM-STERN, F. BLAKOLMER, S. DEGER-JALKOTZY, R. LAFFINEUR and J. WEILHARTNER (eds), METAPHYSIS. Ritual, Myth and Symbolism in the Aegean Bronze Age (2016) 73-76, pl. XXV-XXVI; V. ELWIN, The Tribal Art of Middle India (1951) figs 58, 59. T. DU QUESNE, “Concealing and Revealing: the problem of ritual masking in ancient Egypt,” Discussions in Egyptology 51 (2001) 8, where he also comments on the rarity of actual evidence for such masking in the Nile Valley. M. ELIADE, Shamanism. Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy (1972) 460. See E.W. AVERETT, “Masks and Ritual Performance on the Island of Cyprus,” AJA 119 (2015) 10-11.

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the attribution of such scenes to the human realm into question.16 On the other hand, some hybrids appear to have human arms and possibly hands, occasionally holding an instrument with their fingers, highly suggestive of human embodiment, particularly when bovine-headed kilted figures with fully human bodies, for instance, are contrasted with Cypriot images of Near Eastern-type bull-men (Pl. XLIb-c); the latter clearly inhabit a world beyond that of humans and do not seem to interact directly with them. Frontal bucrania on human bodies in Aegean art (Pl. XLId) may suggest they are animal masks and a number of masklike animal faces appear on the Zakro sealings.17 The output of the “Zakro Master” also includes bird-headed females in flounced skirts and myriad other combinations where body parts merge in such a way that one would be hard-pressed to differentiate human from supernatural actors with any certainty.18 The problem of distinguishing Aegean supernatural beings from humans wearing animal masks and, at times, wings in ritual performances is hampered by the lack of ritual texts and, indeed, clear depictions of individual divinities with specific animal attributes or avatars. There can be less doubt, however, regarding the otherworldly nature of another category of composite creatures with human elements in the ancient Mediterranean and the east: those with human heads and animal bodies, whether upright or on four legs. Animal elements in such composites are commonly bovine, feline and avian, whether human-headed birds or simply winged and possibly taloned creatures.19 I concentrate here on two types of human-headed hybrids that often counterbalance the power of the other: one bovine and the other feline, the latter often winged. They are of interest because of the common and contrasting elements that define them over a vast distance across the ancient river valleys and their relative rarity or non-existence in certain regions, particularly in the Aegean. Human and bull composites Bovids play a special role in the religious iconography of the principal gods of Egypt. The cow goddess Hathor was depicted at times as a natural animal with a sun disk between its horns, the latter features also forming the headdresses of Hathor in anthropomorphic form as well as Isis. Bovine horns are 16

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P. BECK, “A Cypriote Cylinder Seal from Lachish,” Tel Aviv 10/2 (1983) 179, fig. 1: bull-headed figure dominating a sphinx; J. WEBB, “Cypriote Bronze Age Glyptic: Style, Function and Social Context,” in R. LAFFINEUR and J. CROWLEY (eds), EIKΩN. Aegean Bronze Age Iconography: Shaping a Methodology (1992) Pl. XXVIIb: griffin-headed figure dominating a lion, below a rampant attacking sphinx; E. PORADA, Corpus of Ancient Near Eastern Seals in North American Collections I. The Collection of the Pierpont Morgan Library (1948) Pl. CLXIII, 1073: griffin-headed figure dominating sphinxes; V.E.G. KENNA, “The Seal Use of Cyprus in the Bronze Age, II,” BCH 91 (1967) 576, fig. 45: griffin-headed figure dominating griffins. Other scenes depict sphinxes in the field, see BECK (supra) fig. 2; one particularly interesting Cypriot seal depicts a bull-headed figure in a kilt and an upright lion approaching a much larger enthroned divinity with a sphinx and griffin in adorant postures, flanking a tree: E. PORADA, “The Cylinder Seals of the Late Cypriote Bronze Age,” AJA 52 (1948) Pl. IX, 17. CMS V3, no. 154; J. WEINGARTEN, “Aspects of Tradition and Innovation in the work of the Zakro Master,” in P. DARQUE and J.-C. POURSAT (eds), L’iconographie minoenne. Actes de la table ronde d’Athènes (2122 avril 1983) (1985) 172-174; A. SIMANDIRAKI-GRIMSHAW, “Minoan Animal-Human Hybridity,” in D. COUNTS and B. ARNOLD (eds), The Master of Animals in Old World Iconography (2010) 98, discusses the range from “distinguished body parts put together to indiscernible fusions dissolving the boundaries between humanity and animality” in the output of the Zakro Master. J. WEINGARTEN, The Zakro Master and his Place in Prehistory (1983); J. WEINGARTEN, “The Zakro Master and Questions of Gender,” in K. KOPAKA (ed.), FYLO. Engendering Prehistoric Stratigraphies in the Aegean and the Mediterranean (2009) 139-149; for bird-humans and other composites and related masks suggesting they were costumed humans, see FOSTER (supra n. 12) 74-76, Pl. XXV-XXVI; for an early Near Eastern example of the seamless merging of human and animal features, see ARUZ and WALLENFELS (supra n. 11) 43, cat. 13. For human-headed birds in the Near East, see for instance PORADA (supra n. 16) Pl. XXX, 195-197; in Egypt: C. ANDREWS, Amulets of Ancient Egypt (1994) 67-68 (Ba bird symbolizing the soul of the deceased); in the Aegean, CMS II7 no. 117, 118 (Zakro Master); WEINGARTEN 2009 (supra n. 18) 144-146, suggests that the Zakro Master’s creatures may have been demons of the underworld.

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much more extensively used in the Near East beginning in the third millennium B.C., crowning the heads of otherwise anthropomorphic gods in the Mesopotamian pantheon. Among the earliest and most common supernatural beings depicted in ancient Near Eastern art are bull-men standing on two legs and human-headed bull quadrupeds. Bull-men have bearded human heads, albeit with bovine ears and horns, human arms and torsos. Their only article of clothing is the triple belt worn also by nude “heroes,” below which the body transitions to that of a bovid standing like a man on its two rear legs. Identified as (Akkadian) kusarikku, the mythical version of the Eurasian steppe bearded bison, rather than the bull, they are - like Egyptian bovine divinities - associated with the sun god rising in the east. By the late third millennium B.C., bull-men not only have fierce powers to control dangers, but also assume the function of protective and life-affirming figures.20 This protective aspect is demonstrated in scenes showing them attacking lions who threatened flocks (Pl. XLIIa), often in concert with nude triple-belted heroes. Mesopotamian bull-man imagery appears to have been transmitted to the east during the Mature Harappan era (ca. 2600-1900 B.C.). The creature, appearing on Indus Valley seals, seamlessly blends a human head, bovine horns and ears, a male or female torso, human arms, and bovine hindquarters, hooves and tail (Pl. XLIIb).21 Perhaps the most compelling image of this creature shows a bull-woman attacking a mythical feline – a tiger with bovine horns - in a natural landscape on a Harappan square seal, affording little space for a fuller narrative to determine whether this is an act of protection.22 Such predatory behavior contrasts with that of two other human-headed creatures, possible Indus counterparts of the Mesopotamian human-headed bull quadrupeds, although the inspiration is less certain. One has the body and horns of a powerful male bovid, ithyphallic like those from Mesopotamia, but also exhibits elements of local fauna: the tusks and trunk of the elephant (Pl. XLIIc).23 The second has the horns and body of a markhor goat and appears in elaborate outdoor ritual scenes, with figures that have been interpreted as a deity, a shaman and attendants, suggesting the benevolent role of such creatures.24 In turning to the west, we have evidence for the transmission and reception of bull-man imagery on Crete, both on the impression of a cylinder seal that was stamped in the Aegean manner on a Knossos sealing,25 as well as an imported lapis lazuli cylinder seal that was probably reworked at the site. The latter is of particular interest, because the seal – placing a bull-man and divinity in a flounced garment in dominant positions among crossing lions and bulls – was considered precious enough to be further embellished. Not only was the seal fitted with gold caps, but the bull crossing behind a lion, seen at either end of the illustrated modern impression (Pl. XLIId), appears to have been re-carved with an enormous bucranium of non-Near Eastern type.26 Judging from its size and elongated form, it may have replaced that of a bearded human-headed bull. Such an intervention suggests that the original depiction had little significance for its new owner, an idea perhaps borne out by the lack of human-headed bovid representations of Aegean manufacture. The direct encounter with Near Eastern bull-man imagery also occurs much later, on Mitannian and Cypriot style cylinder seals imported to late Mycenaean Greece (see

20 21

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WESTENHOLZ (supra n. 3) 26-27. A. PARPOLA, B.M. PANDE and P. KOSKIKALLIO, Corpus of Indus Seals and Inscriptions (2010) 398-99, Pl. 75, 77, 79, 80, 82; J.M. KENOYER, “Master of Animals and Animal Masters in the Iconography of the Indus Tradition,” in D. COUNTS and B. ARNOLD eds (supra n. 17) 47-54; J. ARUZ, “Seals and Interconnections,” in ARUZ and WALLENFELS (supra n. 11) 407-409; J. ARUZ, “Reflections on Fantastic Beasts of the Harappan World. A View from the West,” in D. FRENEZ, G. JAMISON, R. LAW, M. VIDALE and R. MEADOW (eds.), Walking with the Unicorn. Social Organization and Material Culture in Ancient South Asia (2018) 29-31. ARUZ and WALLENFELS (supra n. 11) 407, fig. 100a. ARUZ and WALLENFELS (supra n. 11) 408, cat. 300d, also with a serpentine tail. ARUZ (supra n. 21) 29-31; KENOYER (supra n. 21) 46-47; see also Kenoyer in ARUZ and WALLENFELS (supra n. 11) 403, no. 294; PARPOLA, PANDE and KOSKIKALLIO (supra n. 21) Pl. 402, M-442, Pl. 401, Pl. 89. J. ARUZ, Marks of Distinction. Seals and Cultural Exchange between the Aegean and the Indus ca. 2600-1360 B.C. (2008) 201, 307 cat. 224, fig. 392. ARUZ (supra n. 25) 96-98, where an earlier recarving is also identified (273 cat. 113, fig. 207).

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Pl. XLIc), without any seeming effect on the local repertoire.27 This is of interest both in light of the prominence of human-bovine imagery in Minoan and Mycenaean art, however with the features reversed and, in fact, Westenholz suggested that “in classical tradition, the analogue of the bull-man was the minotaur, with a human body and a bovine head.”28 The Aegean version of the “bull-man” first appears during the Late Bronze Age and, exempting the ambiguous bovine-headed creatures on the Zakro sealings, can be characterized by its animal head and forequarters, with a human lower body clad in a belted short patterned kilt or nude, except for a single or double belt (reminiscent of Near Eastern bullmen). The bodies of Aegean bull-men are often contorted in postures that at times resemble those of bull leapers. Depicted alone, with individual symbols, sometimes conjoined with other animal foreparts or in conflict with other mixed beings, their interpretation is problematic in terms of ritual significance.29 As it has been pointed out, bulls in the Aegean were shown as huge, powerful, and dangerous, defeating human adversaries in some bull-leaping scenes, but were also hunted and tamed and were prey to animal attacks. They were shown as sacrificial beasts but otherwise appear to have been limited in association with the divine world.30 Human and lion composites Human-lion composite creatures either stand upright on human legs or stand on four feline legs. Of the former, most notable is the Egyptian deity Bes as depicted during the Middle Kingdom with a human face and leonine ears and mane,31 his female counterpart Beset related by Judith Weingarten to the demonic creature on a seal from Petras.32 The Minoan demon exhibits a human form with pendulous breasts and the addition of animal-like features: a hairy face and legs, enlarged wide pointy ears and a long tail. Its frontal human face is monstrously exaggerated with bulging eyes, an open mouth and big teeth, similar to disembodied versions in Minoan art with spirally curling hair locks, suggesting an apotropaic function.33 The premier rendering of a composite creature with human and lion elements is the sphinx, a creature with a human head and lion body. According to Fischer, as with Egyptian animal-headed

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J. ARUZ, K. BENZEL and J.M. EVANS eds (supra n. 7) 396-397, cat. 250, 251 (Tiryns, Perati); E. PORADA, “A Theban Cylinder Seal in Cypriote Style with Minoan Elements,” in Acts of the International Symposium “The Relations Between Cyprus and Crete, ca. 2000-500 B.C.” (1978) Pl. XIII, 1 (Thebes). WESTENHOLZ (supra n. 3) 27. For instance CMS I no. 216, CMS III no. 363, CMS VI no. 299, CMS XIII no. 34 (kilted); CMS IX no. 127 (belted, wearing loin cloth?); CMS V no. 632, CMS IX no. 128, CMS IX no. 144, CMS X no. 145; CMS X no. 146, CMS X no. 232, CMS XI no. 251; CMS XII no. 238, CMS XIII no. 61 (nude belted), CMS II3 no. 67 (nude unbelted); CMS VI no. 302 (conflict with lion-man); CMS VII no. 123; CMS VI no. 301, CMS XI no. 336 (conjoined with bull or caprid); CMS XI no. 336 (conjoined with caprid); CMS III no. 362 (bull leaper in similar posture); see also N. SCHLAGER, “Minotauros in der Ägaischen Glyptik?,” I. PINI and W. MÜLLER (eds), CMS Beiheft III. Fragen und Probleme der Bronzezeitlichen ägäischen Glyptik. Beiträge zum 3. Internationalen Marburger Siegel-Symposium, 5.-7. September 1985 (1989) 225-238; see also L. MORGAN, “Ambiguity and Interpretation,” in PINI and MÜLLER eds (supra) 152, with a discussion in terms of “metamorphosis and hybridization.” F.BLAKOLMER, “Il Buono, Il Brutto, Il Cattivo? Character, Symbolism and Hierarchy of Animals and Supernatural Creatures in Minoan and Mycenaean Iconography,” Creta Antica 17 (2016) 108-111; see also E. and B. HALLAGER, “The Knossian Bull: Political Propoganda in Neo-Palatial Crete?,” in LAFFINEUR and NIEMEIER eds (supra n. 9) 554, who emphasize the role of the bull as a symbol of Knossian might. J. ROMANO, “Notes on the Historiography and History of the Bes-Image in Ancient Egypt,” Bulletin of the Australian Centre of Egyptology 9 (1998) 95-96. J. WEINGARTEN, “The Arrival of Bes(et) on Middle-Minoan Crete,” in J. MYNÁROVÁ, P. ONDERKA and P. PAVÚK (eds), There and Back Again – the Crossroads II (2015) 181-196. O. KRZYSZKOWSKA, “Warding off Evil: Apotropaic Practice and Imagery in Minoan Crete,” in ALRAM-STERN, BLAKOLMER, DEGER-JALKOTZY, LAFFINEUR and WEILHARTNER eds (supra n. 12) 118-121.

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divinities, there is hieroglyphic logic to the reverse emphasis on a human head as the defining element of the sphinx depiction, as it embodies “the might and majesty of the king.”34 Human-headed lions first appeared in the mid-third millennium B.C. both in Egypt and Mesopotamia in very different contexts and forms. The depiction of the regal lion, its human head with features and attributes evoking those of the pharaoh, including the typical long rectangular beard, the royal striped head cloth or nemes, originated during the Old Kingdom both as a powerful and intimidating seated guardian and a commanding striding conqueror. In its menacing aspect, which persists throughout Egyptian history, the sphinx – along with a royal falcon-headed griffin – is shown trampling enemies, at times with one foreleg raised and with wings folded against the body or displayed.35 The image persists throughout ancient Egyptian art, at times depicted on the sides of thrones.36 From the outset, the sphinx in Egypt is associated with solar divinities,37 which is also true of Mesopotamia, where we find a leashed human-headed lion who may stand on a solar boat that extends from one leg of the sun god or walk before a divine handler in front of the boat in which the sun god is seated.38 By the Middle Bronze Age, the role of the sphinx as divine attendant is evident on the “Investiture” wall painting from the palace of Zimrilim at Mari.39 By this time, Near Eastern sphinxes, particularly on Syrian glyptic, may be shown with Egyptian head cloths and feathered and horned crowns, sometimes with pharaonic beards, and wings either folded against the body or displayed. They are shown singly, antithetically or attacking animals and trampling human enemies, and may extend one forepaw.40 The idea of combining human and feline features extends throughout the ancient world to the Indus Valley, where we find a most interesting creature depicted on Harappan glyptic. It consists of a horned figure with a profile human face, a long tress of hair, a frontal human torso and limbs, the arms covered in fur; the figure wears a long striated garment, which is attached to the elongated body of a tiger, the most formidable feline in the region. In one instance, the creature is depicted in a ritual scene on a cylinder seal of Near Eastern form (Pl. XLIIIa).41 At the other end of the spectrum and in much closer geographic proximity to Egypt, the Levant and Anatolia, connections are much more direct. Human-headed feline quadrupeds lacking wings first appear in Aegean art in the Middle Minoan period on stamp seals reported to come from Archanes and Siteia and on a clay vessel relief from Mallia (Pl. XLIIIb). These nascent sphinxes stand or sit. Their distinctive hair curls may derive most immediately from Anatolia, where Egyptian stimuli are apparent on sphinx images, for instance, on Acemhöyük and related ivories, one with a short beard, and on a clay relief vase from Karahöyük with a bearded sphinx sporting distinctive long curls.42 Sphinxes were rarely represented on extant Aegean seals. Clues to their function are an occasional antithetic posture flanking a plant, a frontal masklike head detached from winged feline bodies, and, notably, the image preserved on a Theban sealing with a nude belted male figure leading a sphinx wearing the creature’s typical plumed floral crown and with large wings shown in profile (Pl. XLIIIc).43 34 35

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38 39 40

41 42

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FISCHER (supra n. 7) 14. H. DEMISCH, Die Sphinx: Geschichte ihrer Darstellung von der Anfängen bis zur Gegenwart (1977) 22, fig. 31-33, also with leonine ears and mane, 30, fig. 63, 64, 66. U. DUBIEL, “Pharao-Gott-Wächter: Sphingen im Alten Ägypten,” in L. WINKLER-HORACEK (ed.), Wege der Sphinx. Monster zwischen Orient und Okzident (2011) 17, fig. 21; sculpted standing sphinxes also support thrones in Levantine art W.C. HAYES, The Scepter of Egypt. A Background for the Study of the Egyptian Antiquities in The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Part II: The Hyksos Period and the New Kingdom (1959) 92; C.M. COCHE-ZIVIE., “Sphinx,” Lexikon der Ägyptologie V, 1143-1144. DEMISCH (supra n. 35) 44, figs 99, 100. P. AMIET, Art of the Ancient Near East (1977) color Pl. 65. B. TEISSIER, Egyptian Iconography on Syro-Palestinian Cylinder Seals of the Middle Bronze Age (1996) 144-149; DEMISCH (supra n. 35) fig. 140. ARUZ 2018 (supra n. 21) 27-30. ARUZ (supra n. 25) 86, 106-107, figs 221-228 for Middle Bronze Age sphinxes with curls, Egyptian style headgear and threatening raised paw posture on Syrian glyptic; see also ARUZ, BENZEL and EVANS eds (supra n. 7), 82-84 cat. 46a, b, 106-107 cat. 60, 142-143 cat. 81-82, 395 cat. 247. CMS I no. 87, CMS VS 1B no. 102.

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The evidence of this single sealing image greatly enriches our picture of Aegean sphinx glyptic imagery, reinforcing the suggestion of a similar ritual role to that of the griffin, with whom it shares majestic wings with similar markings but – in contrast to the Levant – not the griffin’s fierce predatory behavior, the only possible exception being a Cypro-Aegean cylinder seal in Minoan style, said to come from Crete.44 The image on the Theban sealing also closely relates to the scene on an ivory pyxis from Mycenae, with a belted male figure in a natural landscape. He leads a sphinx who also wears a similar headdress, both reminiscent of the feathered lily crown on the head of the Knossos “Priest King,” a major factor in disputing the fresco’s original restoration, with a suggestion that it rather belonged to a sphinx.45 Ivories and wall painting furthermore expand our view of the placement of sphinxes in architectural settings, often with ritual connotations, suggesting that they were considered to be protectors of entrance ways at least toward the end of the Mycenaean era (Pl. XLIIId).46 The latter is certainly the function of such beasts in monumental scale at the Hittite site of Alaca Höyük and in succeeding centuries in the Near East, where feline-bodied winged human-headed creatures stand, along with human-headed bulls, both wearing divine horned crowns, as guardians of gates and doors in Assyrian palaces, those liminal spaces through which evil penetrates.47 This paper has concentrated on two powerful species of natural animals – bovine and feline – as they were depicted in combination with humans in many Bronze Age societies. However, in light of the elaborate religious iconographies of divine and the demonic beings in adjacent and accessible lands of Egypt and the Near East, it is of great interest that any coherent version of these elements appears to be largely lacking in the Aegean during much of the Bronze Age, symptomatic of very different approaches to the rendering of the transcendental world in these regions. Fritz Blakolmer observes “until the beginning of the Neopalatial period, Aegeans did not require any religious iconography or images of their deities… a more or less standardized, clear-cut iconography of individual deities as was the case in all Near Eastern as well as later civilizations.”48 When this iconography was established, it integrated many features derived from the east: flounced garments, occasionally bovine horns above the heads of female figures, and associations with supernatural and dangerous animals, dominated by standing or seated figures or rarely ridden (although not stood upon in Near Eastern fashion).49 In addition, griffin-protected enthronement, presentation scenes, as well as Master and Mistress of Animals symmetrical compositions were adopted. 50 Questioning whether 44

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CMS XII no. 242; ARUZ (supra n. 25) 212, 308-309, cat. 229, fig. 419; see also BLAKOLMER (supra n. 30) 127-133, for a recent review and interpretation of hybrid creatures on Aegean seals, including the sphinx and griffin. For predatory sphinx and griffin imagery on a work displaying some Aegean features, see ARUZ, BENZEL and EVANS eds (supra n. 7) 239-241, cat. 146 (Ugarit gold bowl). J.-C. POURSAT, Catalogue des ivoires mycéniens du Musée National d’Athènes (1977) 92 cat. 297, Pl. XXVIII; W.-D. NIEMEIER, “Das Stuckrelief des ‘Prinzen mit der Federkrone’ aus Knossos und minoische Götterdarstellungen,” AM 102 (1987) 70-98; reconstructions are reviewed and questioned by M. SHAW, “The Priest-King Fresco from Knossos: Man, Woman, Priest, King, or Someone Else?,” Essays in Honor of Sara A. Immerwahr (2004) 65-84. POURSAT (supra n. 45) 43, Pl. XII cat. 138; M. LANG, The Palace of Nestor at Pylos in Western Messenia, Vol. II: The Frescoes (1969) 135-137, Pl. 75, Pl. R 1A2. WESTENHOLZ (supra n. 3) 36; these creatures already appear, both as predators attacking animals and in procession, on late Middle Assyrian glyptic, see A. MOORTGAT, “Assyrische Glyptik des 12. Jahrhunderts,” Zeitschrift für Assyriologie N.F. 14/48 (1944) 31-33, figs 19, 20, 23-25, 27. F. BLAKOLMER, “Was the “Minoan Genius” a God? An Essay on Near Eastern Deities and Demons in Aeegean Bronze Age Iconography,” Journal of Ancient Egyptian Interconnections 7 (2015) 36; see also F. BLAKOLMER, “Iconography versus Reality: Goddesses and Gods in Minoan Crete,” in Πεπραγμένα ΙΑ΄ Διεθνούς Κρητολογικού Συνεδρίου (Ρέθυμνο, 21-27 Οκτωβρίου 2011) A1.3 (2018) 178. See, for instance, ARUZ (supra n. 25) 167, figs 329, 337, 338; for a review of “The Goddess and her Animals,” see N. MARINATOS, Minoan Religion. Ritual, Image and Symbol (1993) 152-174. See, for instance, ARUZ (supra n. 25) 142-143, figs 295, 296; 175, figs 353, 354; 199, figs 386, 388, 389, 407, 408; see also J. CROWLEY, “The Aegean Master of Animals: The Evidence of Seals, Signets, and Sealings,” in D. COUNTS and B. ARNOLD eds (supra n. 17) 76-91.

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Mycenaeans believed in theriomorphic gods, Dimitra Rousioti points to the evidence from Thebes of tablets listing animals receiving offerings, suggesting their role in cult. She concludes, however, that they were not treated as deities but may have been sacred to them, “intermediary in status between humans and divinities.”51 As to the role of specific animals in Aegean religious worship, however, visual imagery remains vague both in terms of associations with individual deities and the nature of ritual performances relating to them that involved masking and body enhancement in order to transcend the human realm. Joan ARUZ

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D. ROUSIOTI, “Did the Mycenaeans Believe in Theriomorphic Divinities?,” in R. LAFFINEUR and R. HAGG (eds.), POTNIA. Deities and religion in the Aegean Bronze Age (2001) 311.

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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Pl. XLIa Pl. XLIb

Pl. XLIc

Pl. XLId Pl. XLIIa

Pl. XLIIb

Pl. XLIIc

Pl. XLIId Pl. XLIIIa

Pl. XLIIIb Pl. XLIIIc

Pl. XLIIId

Bison-horned Maria youth of Borghum, Dantewara, Tahsil, Bantar. ELWIN (supra n. 12) Pl. 58. Modern impression of Cypriot elaborate style hematite cylinder seal with bull-headed and anthropomorphic figures and a Minoan Genius, from Enkomi. Photo courtesy of the Cyprus Museum (Inv. no. 1957/V-4/1). See AVERETT (supra n. 15) 11, fig. 7, for a drawing of this seal. Modern impression of Cypriot elaborate style hematite cylinder seal with lion-headed figure and pairs of anthropomorphic figures and bullmen dominating lions, from Mycenaean Thebes. Archaeological Museum of Thebes. Photo courtesy of Pierpont Morgan Library. Modern impression of Aegean agate amygdaloid seal with human-bull composite figure. CMS V suppl. 3,1 no. 154. Drawing of modern impression of Early Dynastic cylinder seal with contest scene of bullmen, lions and horned animals, from Fara, southern Mesopotamia. E. HEINRICH, Ergebnisse der deutschen OrientGesellschaft Ausgrabungen in Fara und Abu Hatab 1902/03 (1931) Pl. 46f (VA 6402). Harappan steatite stamp seal with bull-man, from Mohenjodaro. ARUZ and WALLENFELS (supra n. 11) 407, cat. 300a, photograph Jonathan Mark Kenoyer, courtesy of the Department of Archaeology and Museums, Government of Pakistan. Harappan steatite stamp seal with human-headed bovine composite creature, from Mohenjodaro. ARUZ and WALLENFELS (supra n. 11) 408 cat. 300d, photograph Jonathan Mark Kenoyer, courtesy of the Department of Archaeology and Museums, Government of Pakistan. Modern impression of lapis lazuli cylinder seal, from Knossos. ARUZ and WALLENFELS (supra n. 11) fig. 207d. Modern impression of steatite cylinder seal with human-tiger in a ritual setting, from Kalibangan (J.P. JOSHI and A. PARPOLA, Corpus of Indus Seals and Inscriptions. Volume 1. Collections in India [1987] Pl. 311, K-65). Photograph Erja Lahdenpera, courtesy Archaeological Survey of India. Clay vessel relief of recumbent sphinx from Mallia. ARUZ, BENZEL and EVANS eds (supra n. 7) 142, fig. 46. Clay sealing with stamp seal impression depicting a male figure leading a sphinx, from Mycenaean Thebes. V. ARAVANTINOS, The Archaeological Museum of Thebes (2010) 94 upper right (Wu 44); photo by S. Mavrommatis, courtesy of V. Aravantinos. Copyright Ephorate of Antiquities of Boiotia. Reconstruction drawing of fresco fragment depicting antithetic sphinxes above a doorway, from Pylos. LANG (supra n. 46) Pl. R 1A2.

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THE CAT: AN EXOTIC ANIMAL IN THE MINOAN WORLD? The relations between humans and animals (anthropozoology) in the Aegean have recently received renewed attention, through different sources and perspectives.1 At first, thanks to more thorough studies of zooarchaeological remains, knowledge of domestic and wild fauna, animal consumption and pastoral strategies has notably increased. Secondly, the perception of animals by Aegean societies has been investigated thanks to studies of various kinds of depictions which shed light on animals with symbolic values or special status, whether local (bulls, agrimia), exotic (lions, apes) or fantastic (griffins etc.). J.G. Younger contributed specifically to the latter.2 In the Aegean, iconographic motifs of cats have not received much attention by scholars, if we exclude a study by J. Phillips and a paper by O. Kryszkowska, perhaps because their place among these categories (domestic / local / exotic / wild) is difficult to assert. In spite of the lack of cat bones, the cat is generally considered as part of the Cretan fauna during the Bronze Age, merely because of the “realistic” character of its depiction on seals or frescoes.3 Our interest in this issue is rooted in the discovery of an unusual small bone in Area Pi at Malia in 2015. Thanks to the flotation and sorting out of a whole burnt context in room 17, located at the north of the area, Katerina Papayiannis identified a mandible fragment of a small mammal, which was initially suspected to belong to a cat. We were then very excited by the idea of having found one of the oldest cats on Crete! But after more careful examination, it appeared that the mandible probably belongs to another mammal (weasel?).4 At first glance, it seemed logical to discover this potential cat precisely at Malia, where we can also trace many of the oldest representations of cats in Crete. The mandible comes from a context securely dated to Middle Minoan IIB and is therefore contemporary with the representations of cats previously recovered on the site. After the new zoological determination and having recognized our deception, some questions remained. How can we explain the absence (or almost total absence) of cat bones not only at Malia but all over Crete during the Minoan period? Do the Protopalatial representations of cats reflect the observation of actual cats living in the region, or were the images brought from elsewhere? The last question is not a new one, but the different iconographical and zoological sources are usually not combined. We will then firstly review the iconography of cats in Protopalatial Crete, which corresponds to the appearance and first development of the images of the cat, and we will compare them with the zoological evidence as well as with oriental counterparts. Images of cats during the Protopalatial period in Crete The oldest depictions of cats are more numerous at Malia than at the other sites and are mainly dated to MM II. The most precise ones appear on plastic vases, but their identification is not always evident and several representations should be attributed to other feline species.5

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See especially various papers in G. TOUCHAIS, R. LAFFINEUR, F. ROUGEMONT (eds), PHYSIS. L’environnement naturel et la relation homme-milieu dans le monde égéen protohistorique (2014). Especially with the well-known series of papers on “Bronze Age Representations of Aegean bull-leaping” I, II, III; J.G. YOUNGER, Bronze Age aegean seals in their middle phase 1700-1550 (1993); “The ‘World of People’: Nature and Narrative in Minoan Art”, in TOUCHAIS et al. (supra n. 1) 211-215. J. PHILLIPS, Aegyptiaca on the island of Crete in their chronological context. A critical review (2008) 205. M. POMADÈRE, “Travaux de l’école française d’Athènes en 2014 et 2015. Le secteur Pi de Malia,” BCH 139-140 (2014-2015) 935. Phillips proposed to identify a seal of ‘white paste’ as a cat head, but it is impossible to determine the animal type and we will not consider it: PHILLIPS (supra n. 3) no 573; CMS V suppl. IA 225.

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Plastic vases and moulded appliqués of terracotta At Malia, six small moulded appliqués of terracotta representing a cat seated on hind legs in profile are recorded (Pl. XLIVa-b). They were applied (or intended for application) on small vases and were still stuck on a bridge-spouted jar and on two identical cups in Quartier Mu6. Another similar type of appliqué in the form of a feline is known at Monastiraki in western Crete in a MM II context. It is not published but is said to be “exactly similar” to the cats of Malia.7 Even if the head is lacking, it likely represented a cat because of its pose similar to that of the cats of Malia. Nevertheless, we cannot exclude that it was a lion or a sphinx, as the latter also occurred on this kind of medium.8 Furthermore, the feline of Monastiraki was not decorating a vase but a terracotta model of a building, perhaps a sanctuary (?), bearing horns of consecration. Another Protopalatial appliqué representing a cat was briefly reported after short excavations at Mavrikiano (Elounda), but it is only a head.9 Moreover, the rounded ears differ from the previous appliqués and could indicate other feline species. Two types, from two different moulds, have been identified at Malia by J.-C. Poursat: in the first case, the tail is wrapped around the hind legs, points upward, and the ears are raised, whereas in the second type, the tail is curved and follows the line of the back, with the ears pointing forward.10 The cats are surrounded by other relief decorations, mainly appliqués in the form of marine animals (shells, crabs) creating an unrealistic, “incongruous” environment for the cats. 11 All, including the example from Monastiraki, were covered with white paint, perhaps as an imitation of silver vases.12 In addition, a small cat head with large ears was discovered among other clay figurines at the the peak sanctuary of Prinias (MM II?).13 Its pointed ears invite identification as a cat, whereas the spout in form of a feline head recovered from Quartier Mu at Malia likely represents a lioness.14 Two clay moulds for the production of cat heads (vase or large appliqué) are mentioned by J. Phillips but are not properly published.15 They could demonstrate that different workshops were involved in the production of figurines or vases in the form of cats or cat heads in East Crete during the Protopalatial (and Early Neopalatial?) period.16 Representations of cats are rarer and different in the Neopalatial period:17 one of the three 6

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Three plastic vases have been identified but five cats were present according to the fragments recorded, B. DETOURNAY, J.-C. POURSAT and F. VANDENABEELE, Fouilles exécutées à Mallia, le quartier Mu, II. Vases de pierre et de métal, vannerie, figurines et reliefs d’applique, éléments de parure et de décoration, armes, sceaux et empreintes (1980) 120-124, figs 170-175, height from 3,3 to 4,4 cm. The appliqué of Quartier Thêta dated to MM I in the publication should be attached to MM IIB, H. VAN EFFENTERRE and M. VAN EFFENTERRE, Fouilles exécutées à Mallia. Exploration des maisons et quartiers d'habitation (1956-1960) (1976) fig. 62, Pl. XVIII :17.177; PHILLIPS (supra n. 3) no 383. L. GODART and Y. TZEDAKIS, Témoignages archéologiques et épigraphiques en Crète occidentale, du Néolithique au Minoen Récent III B (1992) 70. See at Malia, Quartier Mu, infra. GODART and TZEDAKIS (supra n. 7) 70-72; PHILLIPS (supra n. 3) no 414. H. VAN EFFENTERRE, Mirabello, Nécropoles (1948) 4, Pl. III. DETOURNAY, POURSAT and VANDENABEELE (supra n. 6) 123, types a et b. S. IMMERWAHR, “A possible influence of Egyptian art in the creation of Minoan wall painting,” in P. DARCQUE and J.-C. POURSAT (eds), L’iconographie minoenne. Actes de la table-ronde d’Athènes (21-22 avril 1983) (1985) 41, 44; DETOURNAY, POURSAT and VANDENABEELE (supra n. 6) 132. The composition and repertoire announce the later frescoes. J.-C. POURSAT, L’art égéen I (2008) 131. C. DAVARAS, Museum of Haghios Nikolaos (n.d.) fig. 40, no 6080. DETOURNAY, POURSAT and VANDENABEELE (supra n. 6) no 161, 112, fig. 156, Sitia Museum M68/F17, H. 2,8 cm, vessel missing. It could be influenced by Anatolian lion-headed vessels, often offered as diplomatic gifts in East Mediterranean, J. ARUZ, K. BENZEL and J.M. EVANS (eds), Beyond Babylon. Art, Trade and Diplomacy in the Second Millenium B.C. (2008) no 40. Perivolakia and Petras, see PHILLIPS (supra n. 3) no 441, 442. For the few Neopalatial protomés and rhyton in form of cat heads, see the inventory in P. MILITELLO, Haghia Triada, I, Gli affreschi (1998) n. 256. However, the steatite mould interpreted as a head of cat is more

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famous figures made of faience from the ‘Temple repositories’ at Knossos and dated to MM III bore a hat on the top of which was perched a feline.18 It could be identified as a leopard because of its coat with brown spots, rather than a cat, but its posture is close to that of one of the appliqué cats of Malia.19 Except for three or four clay protomés discovered from this period, the only evidence of the depiction of cats are the few stalking cats in natural landscapes on frescoes, perhaps in one case at Knossos20 and more definitely at the LM I Villa at Haghia Triada. In the latter, a similar image of the animal (a monochrome cat with the tail raised vertically, along with goats [?] and birds) seems to be repeated on different parts of the scene. However, it is largely reconstructed.21 The form of the cat is reminiscent of the painted feline at the LM I West House at Akrotiri,22 which is also close to the feline of the “Nilotic scenes” decorating the Early Mycenaean dagger from Tomb V in Circle A at Mycenae. The latter examples are spotted and the identification of the feline is equivocal, especially as they appear as wild animals and predators. The seals bearing an image of cat come predominantly from East Crete and are restricted to the Protopalatial phase. Cats on seals O. Krzyszkowska recently studied the cats depicted on Minoan Protopalatial seals (22 depictions of the cat motif on seals or sealings on the CMS database and one more published by herself).23 The Minoans usually choose to represent only the head of the animal, seen from the front. The eyes, the muzzle and sometimes the forehead were made with perfect circles in symmetrical composition, drilled with fast tubular and solid drills. They are only attested on hard, semi-precious stones except a crude one on a steatite seal from the workshop at Malia, which has also been seen as the earliest one.24 Their head is schematic and impressive, justifying their designation as a ‘cat mask’ by scholars,25 more or less limited to enormous eyes and triangular ears out of proportion. Nevertheless, the pointed ears allow to identify a cat, and the gravers sometimes took care to draw one to three symmetric lines for the whiskers, which made

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likely an ivy flower, as originally published in R.W. HUTCHINSON, “A Tholos tomb on the Kephala”, BSA 51 (1956) Pl. 12e; also PHILLIPS (supra n. 3) 201-202. We infer that the relief felines decorating a conical rhyton from the palace of Malia were lions or lionesses (ears missing), F. CHAPOUTHIER, P. DEMARGNE and A. DESSENNE, Fouilles exécutées à Mallia. 4. Exploration du palais. Bordure méridionale et recherches complémentaires (1962) no. 8632, Pl. X, XXXIX. According to Evans, this smaller figure would have been a “priestess” or votary; the restoration of the feline is not certain and it could belong to another figurine, A. EVANS, The Palace of Minos I (1921) 500505; M. PANAGIOTAKI, The central Palace Sanctuary at Knossos (1999) 98. PANAGIOTAKI (supra n. 18) no 211a. A fragment coming from the North border of the Palace was published by EVANS (supra n. 18) 540, fig. 392, but the rounded ears and white spots rather point to a leopard or a panther. The depiction of a whole cat appears only on ‘fragment 1’, MILITELLO (supra n. 16) 107-109, 262-282. C. TELEVANTOU, Ακρωτήρι Θήρας. Oι τοιχογραφίες της Δυτικής Οικίας (1994). O. KRZYSZKOWSKA, “Why were cats different? Script and imagery in Middle Minoan II glyptic,” in C.F. MACDONALD, E. HATZAKI and S. ANDREOU (eds), The Great Islands. Studies of Crete and Cyprus presented to Gerald Cadogan (2015) 100-106; CMS I 423; CMS II 2, 3, 282, 316d; CMS II 6, 185; CMS II8 82, 85, 90; CMS III 104; CMS IV 132a, 156b; CMS VI 93a, 100a, 131, 138, 145; CMS VII 45c; CMS VIII 34; CMS X 280; CMS XII 100, 112b, 113a and HM 2595a, fig. 4a. Likely not a cat on a unique Neopalatial seal, CMS VI 368. The stylistic group dubbed ‘Palaikastro cat group’ actually represents heads of lions or dogs, YOUNGER (supra n. 2) 149-150. The lines were drawn freehand, CMS I 423, A.M. JASINK, Cretan Hieroglyphic Seals. A new classification of symbols and ornamental/filling motifs (2009) 140. P. YULE, Early Cretan Seals. A Study of Chronology (1981) 130; YOUNGER (supra n. 2) 164-5. This qualification is nevertheless misleading, because the ‘cat mask’ doesn’t appear among the animal masks that were perhaps used by humans in the Aegean, see K.P. FOSTER, “Animal Hybrids, Masks and Masques in Aegean Ritual,” in E. ALRAM-STERN, F. BLAKOLMER, S. DEGER-JALKOTZY, R. LAFFINEUR and J. WEILHARTNER (eds), METAPHYSIS. Ritual, Myth and Symbolism in the Aegean Bronze Age (2016) 69-76.

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the determination unmistakable. In some cases, some fur also points upward from the head. The cat head usually appears once on a seal face, isolated or among other motifs; sometimes it is reduplicated on one face (such as the 11 tiny cat-heads on the round CMS II8 90a). They were engraved on various types of seals (rectangular bars, prisms with three faces, handle seals and ‘petschafts’, and in one case a zoomorphic seal). Only five seals bear full-bodied cats, with the body in profile and the head depicted frontally in the traditional ‘cat mask’ style. In two or three cases, the cat is seated on hind legs but the pose is realistic only on the finest prism, made of carnelian (CMS VI 93a). The cat seems in movement on another seal (CMS VII 45c) and on the last one, the body ends in a spiral (CMS VI 138).26 The motif of the full-bodied cat in profile is thus not usual nor standardized, unlike the ‘cat mask’. This cat head was not selected as a sign in the hieroglyphic script in CHIC because it is only engraved on seals and was never inscribed on clay supports, as far as we know.27 However, several scholars following Evans have shown that the ‘cat mask’ is often associated with hieroglyphic signs:28 out of the 23 cases, the cat appears eight times on the same face as hieroglyphic signs and they are arranged together to form coherent sequences; on two bars, the ‘cat mask’ is engraved on one face whereas other faces bear hieroglyphic inscriptions.29 Its restriction to decorative/ornamental use can thus be doubted. After J. Younger, A.M. Jasink defended its reintegration in the syllabographic repertoire, whereas S. Ferrara assumes that it conveys a message as a logogram.30 For now, its exact value in the hieroglyphic script is thus likely, but remains a matter of debate. Cats completely disappear from the glyptic repertoire after MM II. Did the motif go out of fashion because of the abandonment of hieroglyphic writing, or because the animal was not visible – or not easily visible – in Crete? Could the Cretans see live cats at home? Despite the wealth of pictorial cat/feline representations, the cat itself remains an elusive animal for zooarchaeological research from Cretan Neolithic and Bronze Age contexts. Felines were not part of the Pleistocene fauna of the island;31 the import of the cat to Crete is therefore a human choice and not the result of local taming or domestication; given the fact that felines do not swim, they would not have reached Crete during any natural dispersal incident. So far, the earliest cat bones derive from the burial cave of Hagios Charalambos in Lassithi, which was used mainly during MM IIB.32 A preliminary report on the feasting that took place inside and in front of the cave over the entire period of its use mentions the presence of cat and dog bones among the animal bone assemblage; the bones of both species did not bear 26 27 28

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For the details on style and technique used for the bodies, see KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 23) 102. J.P. OLIVIER and L. GODART, Corpus Hieroglyphicarum Inscriptionum Cretae (1996) 14. The cat was first identified by Evans as hieroglyphic sign 74, A. EVANS, Scripta Minoa. The written documents of minoan Crete with special reference to the archives of Knossos (1909) fig. 102-103; YOUNGER (supra n. 2) 164 ; JASINK (supra n. 24) 46-48; KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 23) 105; S. FERRARA and A.M. JASINK, “To have and to hold: Hieroglyphic seals as personal markers and objects of display,” in A.M. JASINK, J. WEINGARTEN and S. FERRARA (eds), Non-scribal communication medias in the Bronze Age Aegean and surroundings areas (2017) 47-48 ; R.P-J.E. DECOERTE, “Cretan ‘Hieroglyphic’ and the nature of script,” in P.M. STEELE (ed.), Understanding Relations between Scripts. The Aegean Writing Systems (2017) 43. KRZYSZKOWSKA (supra n. 23) 102 (CMS XII 112 and CMS VI 100). The cat is also sometimes associated with the stiktogram [X], possibly indicating a logogram or at least an actual script sign, S. FERRARA, “From Icon to Sign,” Terrain 70 (2018) 13-16. For a revision of the Cretan Pleistocene fauna see A.A. VAN DER GEER, G. LYRAS, J. DE VOS and M. DERMITZAKIS, Evolution of island mammals. Adaptation and extinction of placental mammals on islands (2010) 43-49. P.B. BETANCOURT, D.S. REESE, L.L. VERSTEGEN and S. C. FERRENCE, “Feasts for the Dead: Evidence from the Ossuary at Hagios Charalambos,” in L.A. HITCHCOCK, R. LAFFINEUR and J. CROWLEY (eds), DAIS. The Aegean Feast (2008) 161-165.

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cut marks, so they are not considered to be part of the meals, but any further taphonomic or explanatory comment is not given. There is also strong possibility that the cat and dog bones are intrusive in later times (D. Reese, personal communication, August 2019). We therefore cannot be certain whether cats and dogs were brought into the cave as grave offerings or as companions of the people participating in the feasts, or whether they entered the cave on their own initiative after the end of the feasting to scavenge the feast leftovers. The cat is not specified as wild or domestic. Further well stratified cat bones come from Late Minoan III/Early Geometric layers (ca 1100-650 BC) and are attributed to the wild cat, Felis silvestris: a single bone from Kavousi-Kastro in east Crete33 and a wild cat mandible from Smari34 in central Crete. There is also an incomplete large cat mandible from a mixed Minoan/Roman context at Knossos,35 which makes any Neopalatial date for the mandible untrustworthy. Two ulnas of a “wild beast” were recovered from an LM IIIB2 pit in Hagia Aikaterini Square at Chania,36 the larger of which corresponds to the biometric standards of an adult cat. However, their taxonomic status is not yet conclusive, so we cannot use them as the earliest cat evidence from the island. The introduction of cats to insular environments is a human choice that forms part of the process of cat domestication and dispersal in the ancient world. The example of Cyprus is indicative for both the issue of domestication and deliberate import to an island, and can be used as a model: cats as well as house mice (Mus musculus) were introduced to Cyprus from the nearby mainland(s) almost simultaneously and their imports are associated. House mice were accidentally transported to the island during the PrePottery A and B Neolithic phases (10th-9th millennia BP) as stowaways on boats carrying grain; they are found in the PPNA Klimonas settlement,37 in the PPNB water wells of the Kissonerga-Mylouthkia settlement,38 and in the PPNC Khirokitia and Cape Andreas-Kastros settlements.39 Cats, having the natural instinct to hunt mice and snakes, as well as being affectionate companions of humans in daily life, were brought to Cyprus on purpose, obviously as mousers40 but also as pets.41 The discovery of a PPNB human burial accompanied by a kitten at the Parekklisha-Shillourokambos settlement dated to around 8300-8200 cal B.C. affirms the early companionship of cats and humans.42 Cat bones were found in the

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L.M. SNYDER and W.E. KLIPPEL, “Dark Age subsistence in East Crete: the fauna from Vronda and the ‘Kastro’,” AJA 95 (2) (1991) 292-293; L.M. SNYDER and W.E. KLIPPEL, “The Cretan badger (Meles meles) as a food resource at Late Bronze Age/Early Iron Age Kavousi-Kastro,” in D.S. REESE (ed.), Pleistocene and Holocene fauna of Crete and its first settlers (1996) 284. E. TSOUKALA, “The animal bones from Smari,” in REESE ed. (supra n. 33) 273-275; E. ΤΣΟΥΚΑΛΑ and Δ. ΧΑΤΖΗ-ΒΑΛΛΙΑΝΟΥ, “Πανίδα και διατροφικές συνήθειες στην Ακρόπολη Σμαριού κατά τη Γεωμετρική-Ανατολίζουσα και Παλαιοανακτορική Εποχή,” Πεπραγμένα Η΄ Διεθνούς Κρητολογικού Συνεδρίου, Ηράκλειο 9-14/09/1996 (Α3) (2000) 397-420. M. JARMAN, “Human influence in the development of the Cretan mammalian fauna,” in REESE ed. (supra n. 33) 214. Rubbish Area North, 16-Pit E: E. HALLAGER and B.P. HALLAGER, The Greek-Swedish Excavations at the Agia-Aikaterini Square Kastelli, Khania 1970-1987 and 2001. Vol. III1 The Late Minoan IIIB:2 Settlement (2003) 137. J.-D. VIGNE, F. BRIOIS, T. CUCCHI, Y. FRANEL, P. MYLONA, M. TENGBERG, R. TOUQUET, J. WATTEZ, G. WILLCOX, A. ZAZZO and J. GUILAINE, “Klimonas, a late PPNA hunter-cultivator village in Cyprus: new results,” in J.-D. VIGNE, F. BRIOIS and M. TENGBERG (eds), Nouvelles données sur les débuts du Néolithique à Chypre (2017) 21-46. T. CUCCHI, J.-C. AUFFRAY, J.-D. VIGNE, “History of house mouse synanthropy and dispersal in the Near East and Europe: a zooarchaeological insight,” in M. MACHOLAN, S.J.E. BAIRD, P. MUNCLINGER and J. PIÀLEK (eds), Evolution in Our Neighbourhood. The House Mouse as a Model in Evolutionary Research (2012) 65-93. CUCCHI et al. (supra n. 38). J.-D. VIGNE, “Cat: Domestication,” in C. SMITH (ed.), Encyclopedia of Global Archaeology vol. 2 (2014) 1175-77. J.-D. VIGNE, J. GUILAINE, K. DEBUE, L. HAYE and P. GÉRARD, “Early taming of the cat in Cyprus,” Science 304 (2004) 259. VIGNE et al. (supra n. 37).

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PPNC Khirokitia,43 Krittou Marottou-Ais Yiorkis,44 Kholetria-Ortos,45 Kalavassos-Tenta46 and Pottery Neolithic Ayios Epiktitos-Vrysi settlements.47 Both mice and cats established viable populations on Cyprus and their presence continued unabated during prehistory. The Cypriot example betrays the human intention behind the import of cats and a primary affection towards them, and is evidently associated with the early cat domestication process that occurred in the Middle/Near East. 48 We cannot claim anything similar for prehistoric Crete, either for the Neolithic Period or for Minoan times, in spite of the multiple and detailed cat/feline pictorial evidence. Unlike Cyprus, there is no evidence that the Neolithic settlers of Crete brought any cats with them. The reasons for this choice are not clear, since our knowledge of Cretan fauna during the Neolithic period comes almost exclusively from Knossos and to a much lesser extent from Phaistos and a few other sites.49 The most probable reason could be a lack of necessity for such an import: an absence of house mice. The latter were unintentionally imported to Crete later, during the Bronze Age, due to Minoan commercial traderoutes; their first appearance on the island is so far dated to the EM layers of Mochlos.50 They established viable populations, multiplied rapidly, colonised Crete, and survived throughout the Minoan period, as the evidence from MM II to Post-Palatial contexts at Malia, Mochlos and Chania shows.51 On the other hand, no cat is imported to control the mouse population before the Geometric period. The fact that cats were not part of the Minoan diet helps explain the lack of their bones in house deposits, but is not sufficient to explain their absence all over Crete. If the reasons for the absence of the cat do not correlate to methods of bone excavation and study, then we should imagine how necessary the cats would have been in towns with mice. The well-documented relations between Egypt and Crete could form a strong argument for import of the cat to the island. Egypt has long been considered the traditional cradle of cat domestication.52 Six cat burials together with human burials are known from the predynastic Hierakonpolis cemetery in Egypt, dated around 3700 B.C.,53 betraying the earliest-known association of cats and humans in Egypt. This event postdates the discovery of the human-kitten burial on Cyprus. It is nevertheless difficult to date the full domestication of cats in Egypt, which is attested in iconography only in the New Kingdom (infra). Cats 43

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S. DAVIS, “Some more animal remains from the Aceramic Neolithic of Cyprus,” in A. LE BRUN (ed.), Fouilles récentes à Khirokitia (Chypre), 1983-1986 (1989) 193. P. CROFT in A.H. SIMMONS, “Test excavations at two Aceramic Neolithic sites in the uplands of Western Cyprus,” RDAC 1998 (1998) 1-16. CROFT (supra n. 44). CROFT (supra n. 44). A.J. LEGGE, “Ayios Epiktitos: the recent farming economy and the economic evidence,” in E. PELTENBURG (ed.), Vrysi. A subterrameam settlement in Cyprus. Prehistoric Excavations 1969-1973 (1982) 14-20 and 76-90. C.A. DRISCOLL, M. MENOTTI-RAYMOND, A.L. ROCA, K. HUPE, W.E. JOHNSON, E. GEFFEN, E.H. HARLEY, M. DELIBES, D. PONTIER, A.C. KITCHENER, N. YAMAGUCHI, S.J. O’BRIEN and D.W. MACDONALD, “Near Eastern origin of cat domestication,” Science 317 (2007) 519523. JARMAN (supra n. 35) 211-229. K. PAPAYIANNIS, study in progress; K. PAPAYIANNIS, “The micromammals of Minoan Crete: human intervention in the ecosystem of the island,” in G. ILIOPOULOS, C. MEYER, E. FREY, E. BUFFETAUT, J. LISTON and A. ÖSI (guest eds), Proceedings of the 9th EAVP Meeting, Heraklion 2011, Palaeobiodiversity and Palaeoenvironments 92 (2) (2012) 239-248. PAPAYIANNIS (supra n. 50); K. PAPAYIANNIS, “The microfauna from the Greek-Sweedish Excavations,” in E. HALLAGER and B.P. HALLAGER (eds), The Greek-Swedish Excavations at the Agia Aikaterini Square, Kastelli, Khania 1970-1987, 2001, 2005 and 2008. Vol. V The Late Minoan IIIA:1 and II settlements (2016) 447-468. J.A. CLUTTON-BROCK, Natural History of Domesticated Mammals (1999); J.-D. VIGNE, “D’où viennent vraiment les chats?,” Ethnozootechnie 104 (2018) 7-13. W. VAN NEER, V. LINSEELE, R. FRIEDMAN and B. DE CUPERE, “More evidence for cat taming at the Predynastic elite cemetery of Hierakonpolis (Upper Egypt),” Journal of Archaeological Science 45 (2014) 103-111.

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became sacred animals associated with the goddess Bastet during the first millennium, and the export of cats was then forbidden by the authorities,54 but this was probably not the case during the Bronze Age. Given that Bronze Age boat cargos were infested by mice, as the Uluburun LH IIIA shipwreck containing a mouse mandible shows,55 cats were used as vermin control aboard boats, and in this way they were circulated around the Mediterranean.56 It is then difficult to explain the absence of cats from Minoan Crete where exchanges occurred with Egypt and the Near East. The Cypriot paradigm shows that attempts at cat domestication in the Fertile Crescent had started long before the Egyptian examples due to the commensalism of both mice and cats around early settlements.57 Indeed, paleogenomic research tracing the origins of cat domestication examined both epicentres of the phenomenon, the Near East and Egypt, by analyzing the mitochondrial DNA of ancient and modern cat bones from the Middle and Near East, North Africa, Europe and Asia to uncover the origin of these cats. The ancestor of the domestic cat is the wild cat Felis silvestris libyca, native of both the Middle/Near East and North Africa.58 According to Ottoni et al.,59 dispersal of the domestic cat to Europe occurred in successive steps during the Bronze Age and historic times. The analysed dataset included specimens from continental Greece: a Bronze Age cat bone from Tiryns, which was directly radiocarbon dated to 1820-1720 cal B.C. (contemporary with MM II); and cat bones from Kastanas Late Helladic layers, dated to approximately 1300-1250 B.C., and from transitional Late Bronze/Iron Age layers dated to 1200-1100 B.C.60 The Tiryns and Kastanas cats preserved the ancient mitochondrial DNA of the Near Eastern/North African wild cat (Felis silvestris lybica), betraying the ancestry of the Middle Eastern wild cat and revealing that humans translocated these animals to the Aegean before or during the Middle Bronze Age. The Tiryns bone is so far the earliest direct evidence of domestic cat dispersal in the Aegean region. We should stress that the wild cat (Felis sylvestris) is a native carnivore of continental Greece and not of the Aegean islands, but it was never locally tamed or domesticated; wild cat bones from Greek Neolithic continental sites61 are rather the result of hunted game than attempts of local cat domestication. Domestic cat dispersal by humans continued during historical times, Aegean evidence of which comes from the classical site of Kassope, where cat bones were also analysed and found to contain the mtDNA of the European wild cat (F.s.silvestris) along with that of the Middle Eastern one, suggesting the potential intermixing of imported domestic cats with local wild cats in Greece during historical times.62

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56 57 58 59

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E. FAURE and A.C. KITCHENER, “An archaeological and historical review of the relationships between felids and people,” Anthrozoos 22 (2009) 228-229. T. CUCCHI, “Uluburun shipwreck stowaway house mouse: molar shape analysis and indirect clues about the vessel’s last journey,” Journal of Archaeological Science 35 (2008) 2953-2969. FAURE and KITCHENER (supra n. 54). VIGNE (supra n. 52). DRISCOLL et al. (supra n. 48). C. OTTONI, W. VAN NEER, B. DE CUPERE, J. DALIGAULT, S. GUIMARAES, J. PETERS, N. SPASSOV, M.E. PRENDERGAST, N. BOIVIN, A. MORALES-MUÑIZ, A. BĂLĂŞESCU, C. BECKER, N. BENECKE, A. BORONEANT, H. BUITENHUIS, J. CHAHOUD, A. CROWTHER, L. LLORENTE, N. MANASERYAN, H. MONCHOT, V. ONAR, M. OSYPIŃSKA, O. PUTELAT, E.M. QUINTANA MORALES, J. STUDER, U. WIERER, R. DECORTE, T. GRANGE and E.-M. GEIGL, “The palaeogenetics of cat dispersal in the ancient world,” Nature Ecology And Evolution 1 (2017) 139. OTTONI et al. (supra n. 59). For a review see E. YIANNOULI, “Non domestic carnivores in Greek prehistory: a review,” in E. KOTJABOPOULOU, Y. HAMILAKIS, P. HALSTEAD, C. GAMBLE and P. ELEFANTI (eds), Zooarchaeology in Greece. Recent advances (2003) 175-192. OTTONI et al. (supra n. 59).

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Discussion Combining the rich iconography of the cat and its patchy archaeozoological evidence is not an easy task. The absence of bone suggests that most of the depictions of cats were adapted from Egyptian motifs by Cretan craftsmen, as it is often claimed,63 while some individuals were introduced on the island. The plastic representation of cats in Minoan Crete are borrowed from Egyptian images The earliest images of cats appear in Egypt with the hieroglyphic sign (E13, mjw) on inscriptions of the end of the Old Kingdom/beginning of the Middle Kingdom (roughly contemporary with the end of the Prepalatial period in Crete). If the oldest signs were sometimes in the form of a cat in profile with the tail rising vertically, the canonical sign rapidly became a cat seated on hind legs in profile with the tail wrapped around its haunches. During the same period (from 2300 B.C.), the cat is also represented on amulets (scaraboids, figurines of faïence and bone).64 These representations result from the apotropaic value given to the cat. We have already seen that the association of cats to the goddess Bastet is a late development, whereas from the beginning of the Middle Kingdom there is textual evidence of the relation between the cat and solar god Re. The protective function of the cat, the defender and/or manifestation of Re, is also attested by depictions of the animal on ivory ‘magic’ knives or wands (Dynasties XII-XIII).65 These ‘magic knives’ have been frequently found in graves of the Middle Kingdom, but they were also used as magic devices to protect from accidents and malevolent forces during one’s life, especially for mothers and children.66 Due to their material (in most cases hippopotamus ivory, but sometimes faience), they were not used by all Egyptians but were reserved to the elite.67 Those apotropaia were engraved with depictions of various animals with protective value (mostly hippopotami, baboons, crocodiles and fantastic creatures, especially Taweret and Bes, and less frequently, cats68) as well as with hieroglyphic inscriptions. The cat is sometimes standing on hind legs and holding a knife or depicted as the hieroglyphic sign, seated in profile (Pl. XLIVc-d). 63

64 65

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DETOURNAY, POURSAT and VANDENABEELE (supra n. 6) 123; J.-C. POURSAT, “Iconographie minoenne: continuités et ruptures”, in DARCQUE and POURSAT (supra n. 11) 51-57; IMMERWAHR (supra n. 11); J. VANSCHOOWINKEL, “Animal Representations in Theran and Other Aegean Arts,” in D.A. HARDY, C.G. DOUMAS, J.A. SAKELLARAKIS and P.M. WARREN (eds), Thera and the Aegean World III.1 (1990) 327-347; GODART and TZEDAKIS (supra n. 7) 71-72. J. MALEK, Le chat dans l’Égypte ancienne (2016) 80-81. These objects were recently renamed “birth tusks”, S. QUIRKE, Birth Tusks. The Armoury of Health in Context – Egypt 1800 BC (2016). The production is attributed to the Late Middle Kingdom (1850-1700 B.C.). H. ALTENMÜLLER, Die Apotropaia und die Götter Mittelägyptens. Eine typologische und religiongeschichtliche Untersuchung der sogenannten “Zaubermesser” des Mittleren Reichs, unpublished Ph.D. Dissertation, Universität München (1965); “Ein Zaubermesser des Mittleren Reiches,” Studien zur altägyptischen Kultur 13 (1986) 1-27. 139 magic knives are registered; they reached at least three Levantine sites (Tell el Ajjul, Meggido and Ugarit), QUIRKE (supra n. 65) 214; V. MATOÏAN, “Ugarit et l’Égypte : essai d’interprétation de la documentation et perspectives de la recherche,” in B. EDER and R. PRUZSINSZKY (eds), Policies of exchange. Political Systems and Modes of Interaction in the Aegean and the Near East in the 2nd Millenium B.C.E. (2015) 43-44. Single examples respectively in clay, calcite and wood, QUIRKE (supra n. 65) 206-209, 214-217; O. KRZYSZKOWSKA and R. MORKOT, “Ivory and related materials,” in P.T. NICHOLSON and I. SHAW, Ancient Egyptian Materials and Technology (2000) 320-331. J. WEINGARTEN, The Transformation of Egyptian Taweret into the Minoan Genius. A Study in Cultural Transmission in the Middle Bronze Age (1991); EAD., “The Arrival of Bes[et] on Middle-Minoan Crete,” in J. MYNÁROVÁ, P. ONDERKA and P. PAVÚK (eds), There and Back again – the Crossroads II (2015) 181196; group “serval/cheetah/cat”, QUIRKE (supra n. 65) 389-391.

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The earliest known painted scenes to include cats are also dated to the early Middle Kingdom, in the well-known tombs of Beni Hasan (Dynasty XII, ca 1900 B.C.).69 The first scene (tomb of governor Baqet) presents a cat facing a rat, as hunter of the rodents, but its status is not defined (wild/tamed/domesticated animal?). 70 The second one (tomb of Khnumhotep, slightly later) likely represents a wild cat: it is inserted into a fishing scene in wetlands, among papyrus, along with two genets and an Egyptian mongoose known as an ichneumon, other predators of snakes and birds more usual in mural paintings of the Old Kingdom.71 In the two cases, the cat is depicted in the form of the hieroglyphic sign of the animal, with the tail wrapped around the right haunch. Other wall paintings with desert hunt scenes include wild cats striding among other animals (Thebes, Beni Hasan).72 However, these scenes are isolated.73 The cat seated under the chair of a woman is a type of scene which will become popular later, during the New Kingdom (reign of Thutmose III and Dynasty XIX), when fully domesticated cats are common members of Egyptian households. J. Phillips rightly highlighted that it would have been very difficult for Minoans to access contemporary Egyptian tombs.74 Moreover, very few Egyptian figurines and no amulets or seals in the form of cats have been found on Crete. She concludes that the images of the cat were locally derived rather than being adopted. 75 Nevertheless, the similarity between clay Minoan cats and Egyptian earlier/contemporary counterparts (profile, tail wrapped around the haunches, etc.) points to this Egyptian origin (Pl. XLIVa-d). The depictions of cats on Egyptian objects such as the ‘magic knives’ or figurines could be seen in Egypt or in Levantine ports, copied and then transmitted to Crete.76 The plastic vases of Malia bear a juxtaposition of cats/tree/shells, a strange combination identified as a properly Minoan development77 because it doesn’t correspond to prototypes from Egypt. One or several workshops produced plastic vases with moulded appliqués depicting shells, crabs, falcons, 78 humans (crouching woman) or sphinxes at Middle Minoan Malia.79 Some of them, bearing similar features (for example, eyes with outline in relief), could be products of the same workshop. It is worth noting that the sphinx recovered in Quartier Mu at Malia has a tail wrapped around the haunch, exactly like the cats.80 The sphinx is undoubtedly the result of contact with Egypt, even if it also points to Levantine and Anatolian influences (perhaps intermediary).81 It suggests that a Maliote workshop could be specialised in “orientalising/egyptianizing” production (the difference was perhaps not so important for

69 70 71 72 73

74 75 76

77 78

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P.E. NEWBERRY, Beni Hasan I (1893); PHILLIPS (supra n. 3) 193-198. P.E. NEWBERRY, Beni Hasan II (1893) Pl. VI; QUIRKE (supra n. 65) 459-460. MALEK (supra n. 64) 50-58. QUIRKE (supra n. 65) 447, 455, fig. 5.27; NEWBERRY (supra n. 69) Pl. 30. The only other image of a possible cat for the Middle Kingdom, on a stela at Koptos, is debated, MALEK (supra n. 64) 78-79. PHILLIPS (supra n. 3) 239. See also IMMERWAHR (supra n. 11) 50. PHILLIPS (supra n. 3) 240-242. Nevertheless, some details in Neopalatial Minoan frescoes also suggest that some Cretans were able to see the Egyptian paintings in tombs, M. SHAW, “The Painted Pavilion of the ‘Caravanserai’ at Knossos,” in L. MORGAN (ed.), Aegean Wall Painting. A tribute to Mark Cameron (2005) 103; MILITELLO (supra n. 16) 263. POURSAT (supra n. 63) 55. Lid decorated with two hawks from Quartier Mu, DETOURNAY, POURSAT and VANDENABEELE (supra n. 6) 119-120. If the composition and type of wings provide parallels for Anatolian ivory plaques, the inspiration is Egyptian, see ARUZ, BENZEL and EVANS (supra n. 14) no 49, 50; contra PHILLIPS (supra n. 3) 218, no 375. The ‘Atelier de Potier’ of Quartier Mu is the only one identified, J.-C. POURSAT, Artisans Minoens: les maisons-ateliers du Quartier Mu (1996) 111-113, Pl. 51; K.P. FOSTER, Minoan Ceramic Relief (1982) 80-96. And not like the sphinx depicted on a unique MM II seal petschaft from Archanes (CMS VI 128), with a tail pointing upwards behind the back. J.-C. POURSAT, “Le sphinx minoen : un nouveau document,” in G. PUGLIESE CARRATELLI and G. RIZA (eds), Antichità Cretesi, Studi in onore di Doro Levi (1973) 111-114; IMMERWAHR (supra n. 11); ARUZ, BENZEL and EVANS (supra n. 14) no 46a,b, 81.

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the consumers).82 This fashion doesn’t imply regular or direct ties with Egypt, as very few Egyptian objects were discovered at Malia:83 the circumstances of the transfer remain obscure, but a few people could have imported some ideas and images in the context of the connections between Crete and Egypt, or Crete and the Levant during the Middle Bronze Age.84 On the other hand, the ‘cat mask’ appears as an original invention in Cretan glyptic, as it doesn’t imitate the Egyptian hieroglyphic sign.85 Nevertheless, other animal faces were normally depicted at the ends of the ‘magic knives’: a feline, round-eared (lion or panther) head on the larger extremity, a longeared animal (fox or jackal?) on the thinner one. If the iconography of the ‘magic knives’ influenced the Cretan craftsmen to some degree, as we assume, we can speculate that these images of animal faces could also have played a role in the creation of the ‘cat mask’.86 However, some details (such as whiskers) imply that the creator of the ‘cat mask’ saw living cats. Cats as exotic animals imported in Crete? There are hints of imports of some exotic live animals to Crete, perhaps for the kinds of ‘zoological gardens’ existing in Egypt and the Near East.87 It is probably in this elite context that some Minoans were able to see the first cats, alongside other exotic species such as monkeys or antelopes.88 The sending of these exotic animals is understood as ‘expressions of diplomatic or political gift exchanges’ but cats have not usually been included by scholars in these kinds of exchanges.89 As rare animals, cats could be considered as a source and expression of prestige and/or high social status. If the cat was probably no more sacred in Minoan Crete than in Egypt around 1700 B.C., it nevertheless probably bore a symbolic value. Due to the absence of deciphered texts in Crete, we are not able to know if it conveyed the same apotropaic function as in Egypt. The prestige goods of Egypt mostly reached Crete at Knossos, 90 but some cats were likely transported to Malia and perhaps to some other ports of East Crete during MM I/II in the context of gift exchanges.

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The style of branch designed for the tree appliqués associated with the cat is also parallel to the style of trees in the tombs of Beni Hasan, DETOURNAY, POURSAT and VANDENABEELE (supra n. 6) 124; IMMERWAHR (supra n. 11) 41. In other pottery workshops producing MM II relief appliqués (Archanes, Phaistos), the subjects were purely Minoan (agrimi, bull, flowers), IMMERWAHR (supra n. 11), 46. J.-C. POURSAT, “Malia et l’Egypte,” in A. KARETSOU (ed.), Κρήτη – Αίγυπτος. Πολιτιστικοί δεσμοί τριών χιλιετιών, Αρχαιολογικό Μουσείο Ηρακλείου, 21 Νοεμβρίου 1999-21 Σεπτεμβρίου 2000 (2000) 29-30. P. WARREN, “Minoan and Pharaonic Egypt,” in W.V. DAVIES and L. SCHOFIELD (eds), Egypt, the Aegean and the Levant. Interconnections in the Second Millenium BC (1995) 2-3; KARETSOU (supra n. 86); PHILLIPS (supra n. 3); WEINGARTEN 2015 (supra n. 68) 181-196; for a possible intermediation of the Levant, MATOÏAN (supra n. 66). On the autonomy of hieroglyphic writing, S. FERRARA, “The beginnings of writing on Crete: Theory and context,” BSA 210 (2015) 27-49. However, the shape of eyes of the animals from the tusks and the circle-eyes of the Cretan ‘cat mask’ are markedly different. M.-F. BESNIER, “Les jardins urbains du Proche-Orient antique,” Histoire Urbaine 1 (2000) 25-45; K.P. FOSTER, “Gardens of Eden: Exotic Flora and Fauna in the Ancient Near East,” in J. ALBERT, M. BERNHARDSSON and R. KENNA (eds), Transformations of Middle Eastern Natural Environments: Legacies and Lessons (1998) 320-29. The baboons and apes, animals familiar to the Egyptians earlier than the cats, were bred in captivity because there were no more wild apes in Lower Egypt, MALEK (supra n. 64) 83; in the Near East they served as tribute and were kept as pets, M.N. PAREJA, Monkey and Ape Iconography in Aegean Art (2017) 45-46. WARREN (supra n. 84) 6-7; P. WARREN, “Crete and Egypt: The Transmission of Relationships,” in KARETSOU (supra n. 84) 25. WARREN (supra n. 88) 26. PHILLIPS (supra n. 3) 228, especially for stone vessels.

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Conclusions Even if the current abundance of cats in Crete might suggest that numerous cats were already living in Minoan towns and villages, this appears to be a misleading image. The cat probably arrived on Crete first as a depiction (seen on figurines or ‘magic wands’ or ‘copy-books’?), with other powerful images from Egypt (sphinxes, or demons like Taweret and Bes/Beset, which are also notably anchored at Malia)91 during the early Middle Minoan period, and the live animal was probably introduced from the same area during this period. The cats were then probably limited in numbers and reserved for special and elite contexts. Even if we cannot precisely discern the symbolism and value of the cat to the Minoans, the case still shows how the relationships between animals and humans deeply changed during this long (proto)history. Returning to our initial trigger for this discussion, the discovery of a small carnivore mandible at MM II Quartier Pi, probably a weasel, shows how humans intentionally shaped Cretan biodiversity by importing small carnivores other than cats (martens and weasels)92 as vermin hunters but also as hunted game themselves, probably saving the role of precious symbolic creatures for the few imported cats. Maia POMADÈRE Katerina PAPAYIANNIS

91

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WEINGARTEN 1991 (supra n. 68) and 2015 (supra n. 68); M. ANASTASIADOU and M. POMADÈRE, “Le sceau à la ‘figure feminine aux bras levés’ du secteur Pi de Malia,” BCH 135 (2011) 63-71. JARMAN (supra n. 35); FAURE and KITCHENER (supra n. 54) 228, 231-232.

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Pl. XLIVa-b Pl. XLIVc-d

Terracotta appliqués of cats applied to vases from Quartier Mu, Malia, h. ca 4 cm. a) Cup, HM 19816; b) bridge-spouted jug, HM 19814 (drawings M. Pomadère). Two examples of cats in profile on Egyptian ‘magic knives’: c) Boston MFA 12.1519, provenance “Arab el Borg”, after QUIRKE (supra n. 65) 243 (drawing W. Grajetzki); d) Boston MFA 03.1703, provenance Naqada (drawing M. Pomadère after QUIRKE [supra n. 65] 240).

XLIV

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b

E. ARCHAEOLOGY

BURIAL CONTAINERS IN THE PRE- AND PROTO-PALATIAL CEMETERY OF PETRAS, SITEIA8 Introduction The elite EM IB-MM IIB cemetery at Petras-Siteia, under excavation since 2004, is situated on an extensive plateau, on the Kephala hill. (Pl. XLV-XLVI).1 The cemetery has various types of mortuary architecture. To date 19 large house tombs have been excavated (EM IB-MM IIB), a number of Prepalatial house tombs have been identified but not yet excavated, one burial rock shelter (EM IB-MM IIA), five burial pits defined by simple stone structures (EM IIA, EM IIB, ΜΜ ΙΑ),2 as well as a cist tomb of “Cycladic” type, consisting of vertical schist slabs, and a schist slab floor (EM IIA). It is of particular importance that the earlier tombs, either single burials in burial pits or house tombs, ceased to be used in EM IIB or MM IA, while their remains were preserved and new house tombs were built on top of them, which were used until the end of the Protopalatial, when the use of the area as a burial place stopped. As for the burial practices, the general rule is secondary burials, with a number of exceptions of primary burials dated to all periods. The bones of the secondary burials were heavily manipulated and comingled. The primary burials as well had undergone various manipulations in most cases.3

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Acknowledgements. First I want to thank the editors of the present volume for the opportunity they gave me to offer this contribution to Professor John Younger, a distinguished colleague and friend of many years. The plan of the Petras cemetery is due to Miriam Clinton, elaborated by Garifalia Kostopoulou. The photos of the finds are by Chronis Papanikolopoulos and the drawings by Douglas Faulmann of the Instap Study Center in Eastern Crete. The conservation of the finds is by the conservators of the Center Kathy Hall and Matina Tzari. To all of them many thanks. I also wish to thank Mina Tsimogianni for help with practical matters during the writing of the paper and last but not least David Rupp for many useful discussions and for reading my English text. General bibliography for the Petras cemetery: M. TSIPOPOULOU (ed.), “Petras, Siteia. The Pre- and Proto-palatial cemetery in context,” Acts of a two-day conference held at the Danish Institute at Athens, 14-15 February 2015 (2017) (with previous bibliography); S. KIORPE, “Tracing the funerary ritual at Kephala Petras through the evidence of the human skeletal remains,” in Kentro. The Newsletter of the INSTAP Study Center for East Crete 21 (2018) 1-6; O. KRZYSZKOWSKA, “Materials, motifs and mobility in Minoan glyptic,” in Πεπραγμένα ΙB΄Διεθνούς Κρητολογικού Συνεδρίου (Ηράκλειο, 21-25 Σεπτεμβρίου 2016) (2018); S. TRIANTAPHYLLOU, M. TSIPOPOULOU and P.P. BETANCOURT, “Κεφάλα Πετράς Σητείας: ανθρώπινα οστά και ταφικές πρακτικές στη ΠΜ Βραχοσκεπή και το ΜΜ Νεκροταφείο,” in Πεπραγμένα ΙΑ΄ Διεθνούς Κρητολογικού Συνεδρίου (Ρέθυμνο, 21-27 Οκτωβρίου 2011) A1.2 (2018) 203-215; M. TSIPOPOULOU, “The Petras Cemetery in the Early Minoan II Period,”, in Kentro. The Newsletter of the INSTAP Study Center for East Crete 20 (2017) 22; M. TSIPOPOULOU, “Το μινωικό Προ- και Παλαιοανακτορικό νεκροταφείο του Πετρά Σητείας,” in Θέματα Αρχαιολογίας I (3) (2017) 292-305; M. TSIPOPOULOU and A. SIMANDIRAKI-GRIMSHAW, “Cycladic figurines and pottery at Petras, Siteia,” in N. STAMPOLIDIS and P. SOTIRAKOPOULOU (eds), Cycladica in Crete. Cycladic and Cycladicizing figurines within their archaeological context, Athens, 1-2 October 2015 (2017) 353-378; S. TRIANTAPHYLLOU, S. KIORPE and M. TSIPOPOULOU, “Manipulating bodies, constructing social memory: ways of negotiating, re-inventing and legitimizing the past at the Kephala Petras cemetery, Siteia, Crete,” in E. BORGNA, I. CALOI, F. CARINCI and R. LAFFINEUR (eds), MNEME. Past and Memory in the Aegean Bronze Age (2019) 73-80; S. KIORPE, Η Διαχείριση των Νεκρών στην Κρήτη Κατά την 3η και τις Αρχές της 2ης Χιλιετίας π.Χ. Η Περίπτωση του Ταφικού Κτιρίου 5 στο Νεκροταφείο της Κεφάλας, unpublished MA thesis, University of Thessaloniki (2016). M. TSIPOPOULOU and D. RUPP, “The Pre- and proto-palatial Cemetery at Petras Kephala: a persistent locale as an arena for completing cultural memories”, in BORGNA et al. eds (supra n. 1) 81-94; TRIANTAPHYLLOU et al. (supra n. 1). TRIANTAPHYLLOU et al. (supra n. 1); KIORPE (supra n. 1).

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In this paper the burial containers excavated in the Petras cemetery are presented. These are few, if one considers the very long duration of the use of the cemetery (practically ca 1,000 years) and the incredibly large numbers of the individuals already documented among the skeletal material and still being identified as the study for the final publication progresses. It is noteworthy that while the practice of using burial containers, mostly but not exclusively larnakes and pithoi, is relatively common throughout Crete from the EM II onwards, the examples from Petras are few and rather isolated, even though they present an interesting variety as far as the vessel types, the chronological attribution and the deposition of the individuals in them are concerned. Furthermore, both genders and all ages are represented, exactly as it is the situation throughout the cemetery. The present contribution includes a detailed descriptive catalog of the burial vessels in the Petras cemetery, comprising the various types, the chronology, the skeletal remains and the excavation context. It is interesting to point out here that with the exception of two small pithoids that contained poorly preserved remains of two infants, all of the burial vessels did not contain a single primary burial, as expected and as is the rule in other Cretan cemeteries and tombs. Also, some burial containers, especially open ones, did not contain the totality of the skeleton of one or more individuals, but only few selected ones, especially skulls. The burial containers, except for a cup, imported from the area of the Isthmus of Ierapetra, are all made of the typical fabrics of the Siteia Bay.4 It is certain that at least the larnakes were produced exclusively for funerary use, while pithoi, pithoid jars and other shapes were probably in secondary use, and more importantly when they entered the tombs, were already broken and missing some parts, i.e. in a symbolic way they were also dead. In all cases within the same house tomb and room, the burial containers were found together with comingled bones of secondary burials on the ground. All burial containers at the Petras cemetery were found in the interior of house tombs, with the only exception of a, probably EM II, cylindrical pithoid jar, found to the east of House Tomb 3 (see below, 14/746).5 Catalog 1. Larnakes: House Tomb 2 (Pl. XLVIIa-b): a. Bath-tub larnax. 05/175. Ηouse Τomb 2, Room 1 (Pl. XLIXa-b), 2/3 extant, mended from many sherds. Η. 49; base length 88; th. 1.3. Base: flat, oval; body: straight walls, repair holes on upper body, two pairs on the narrow side and one on the long; rim: rounded, slightly outcurving, following body profile. Medium 5 YR 6/3 (dull orange) clay, many inclusions. Thick slip of same color. 5 YR 4/4 (dull reddish-brown) worn, matt paint, unevenly fired. Monochrome ext. Dating: MM II (probably B). Skeletal remains: (identified by Sevasti Triantaphyllou). (Pl. XLIXc). Minimum number of individuals: two adult males. 1. Primary location but manipulated (dry) – original position: upper body in extended and prone position, legs strongly flexed on right side; all long and a few small bones; mandible, right radius and left tibia are not in articulation. 2) Secondary (dry) bones placed possibly after, or at the same time with manipulation

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The petrographic analyses have not been completed as yet. The identification is based on macroscopic observation. The identification of the skeletal remains in the burial vessels was done by the team of osteoarchaeologists who excavated/and/or studied the bones of the Petras excavation. Professor S. Triantaphyllou, University of Thessaloniki, and a team of graduate and PhD students from the same University are excavating, documenting and publishing the skeletal remains and the burial practices. S. Kiorpe has finished her Master’s thesis on House Tomb 5 (supra n. 1); her PhD thesis on the rest of the skeletal materials of the Petras cemetery is in progress. The other osteoarchaeologists who have worked at the cemetery and offered the identification of the human remains for the present paper: S. Triantaphyllou (for House Tomb 2), E. Kalliga (for burial pithoid in Trenches H4-H5), D. Zafeiri (for House Tomb 27), A. Karlighioti (for House Tomb 7), A. Katsaveli (for House Tomb 1). S. Kiorpe is contributed for the rest of the contexts.

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of Individual 1. Right metacarpal two, left scapula, left ulna, right femur placed with the upper body of Individual 1; unsided humerus placed with legs of Individual 1. Context: larnax 05/175 was found in Room 1 of House Tomb 2, placed at a right angle in relation to burial pithos 05/174 (see below). It was adjacent to the east wall of the room (Pl. XLIXd) and contained no grave goods. b. Chest-shaped larnax. 05/118. House Tomb 2, Room 3. (Pl. XLIXe, f, g). ¾ extant, mended from many sherds. H. 52; base l. 90; th. 1.6. Base: torus, flat underneath; body: rectangular, vertical walls; rim: flat upper surface, following body profile; handles: eight, four in each long side, vertical, circular section, three fully preserved, three attachments preserved. Medium 7.5 YR 6/4 (dull orange) clay, many calcite inclusions. Thick slip of same color. Dating: MM IIB. Skeletal remains: (identified by Sevasti Triantaphyllou). (Pl. XLIXh). Minimum individuals: one, male 45+. All cranial and postcranial skeleton; manipulated fresh; legs and lower body strongly flexed to the thoracic area; some of the bones, e.g. ribs, left calcaneus and right forearm not in articulation with the skeleton; an unidentified long bone underneath skull, not in situ. Context: (Pl. XLIXi) larnax 05/118 was adjacent to the south wall of the room, its mouth touching the wall. Although there were no grave goods in the larnax, it is quite possible that a group of exquisite seals, made of hard stones, some with hieroglyphic inscriptions that were found around it were in fact connected with the burial inside the larnax.6 Also, just below the larnax was a small globular, wide-mouthed jug 05/288.7 House Tomb 7 (Pl XLVIIc-d): Bath-tub larnax. 15/1044. House Tomb 7, Room 2. (Pl La-c). ¾ extant. Mended from many sherds, H. 45.3; base l. 76; body length 81.5; th. 1. Base: flat; body: ovoid, vertical walls; rim: flattened, outcurving, following body profile. Medium 5 YR 8/3 (pale orange) clay, many phyllite inclusions. Thin, 5 YR 5/1 (brownish-gray) paint, very worn. Monochrome ext. Dating: MM II (probably A). Lid of larnax. 15/2027. House Tomb 7, Room 2. Mended from 12 sherds. Larnax 15/1044 initially had two similar, but not identical, half lids, only one preserved. Elliptical shape, external edge arched, internal straight; handle: basket, circular section on upper surface. Medium 7.5 ΥR 8/2 (light gray) clay, many inclusions. Thin slip of same color. Paint 5 YR 7/6 (orange), unevenly spread, very worn. Decoration: wide horizontal band on edge, two vertical bands on mid-body, handle monochrome. Dating: MM II (probably A). Skeletal remains: (identified by Anna Karlighioti). (Pl. Ld). At the east part of the larnax a cluster of bones; at the north part a skull, its bones very fragmented; only the lower part was extracted as a whole; it was not possible to reconstruct its exact position; the temporal bone was towards the north. South of the skull a long bone, an ulna and a humerus, a phalanx and metacarpal bones; to the south of them, underneath a lid fragment, a long bone; to the west long bones’ fragments and to the south a femur, parts of a scapula and a small long bone. After the extraction of the lid fragment and the above-mentioned bones three molars and fragments of a mandible with teeth were uncovered; with them a long bone and few more fragmentary bones. The study of the bones is not completed. There was no primary burial, more than one individual were present, no bones were in anatomic position. Context: larnax 15/2027 was found in Room 2 and belongs to the last phase of use of House tomb 7. Underneath this burial vessel there was a layer of soil and many bones of secondary burials, connected with the first phase of use of House Tomb 7 (EM III-MM IA), 16 cm. thick. The larnax did not contain any grave goods. (Pl. Le). 2. Pithoi: House Tomb 2: Spouted pithos. 05/174, House Τomb 2, Room 1. (Pl. Lia-b). H. 90; Base d. 30; rim d. 40; th. 1.4. Full profile preserved, mended from many sherds, missing body fragments. Worn surface on lower body. Βase: flat; body: oval; small tubular spout on lower body near base; rim: wide, outcurving, elliptical section; handles: six, 6

7

O. KRZYSZKOWSKA, “Seals from the Petras Cemetery: a preliminary overview,” in M. TSIPOPOULOU (ed.), “Petras, Siteia, 25 years of excavations and studies,” Acts of a two-day conference held at the Danish Institute at Athens, 9-10 October 2010 (2012) 145-160, figs 5-9, 150-156. For an exact parallel in Quartier Mu: J.-C. POURSAT and C. KNAPPETT, La poterie du Minoen Moyen II: Production et utilisation (2005) Pl. 48, no. 471, 217 (dating: MM IIB).

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vertical, circular section, three below rim, three on lower body. Coarse 10 YR 7/6 (bright yellowish-brown) clay, 2.5 Y 4/3 (olive-brown) core and large calcite, phyllite and mica inclusions. Thick, worn 10 YR 8/1 (light gray) slip. Black, very worn paint. Dribbles from rim to lower body; Three relief bands with finger impressions below rim, on mid-body and above base. Pithos 05/174 was covered by the cylindrical pithoid jar 05/167 below. Dating: MM IIB. Cylindrical pithoid. 05/167. HT 2, R1, locus 5. (Pl. LIc-d). Mended from many sherds. H. 29.6; base d. 31; rim d. 31; th. 1.7. Base: flat; body: cylindrical; rim: rectangular section, following body profile; handles: four, two horizontal, oblique, circular section on upper body, and two more vertical, smaller, circular section, below rim, at 90 degrees to the horizontal ones. Medium 5 YR 7/4 (dull orange) clay, many white inclusions. Self slip. 5 YR 5/2 (grayish-brown) paint, very worn. Decoration: Wide strokes preserved ext., probably initially monochrome. Dating: MM II. Skeletal remains: (identified by Sevi Triantaphyllou) (Pl. LIe). Minimum Number of Individuals two. 1. cranium 2. postcranial-secondary burial (dry). Individual 1: Male 45+ (cranial suture), all long and small bones (hands and feet). Individual 2: Adult male (bone morphology), left clavicle, right fibula, right tibia. Context: The pithos was adjacent to the south wall of the room, at 90o to the larnax 05/175 (above) just to the south of the entrance of the room. (Pl. LIf). It was probably the latest burial deposited in the Room 1. The pithos contained no grave goods. 3. Other types of vessels: House Tomb 3 (Pl. XLVIIe-f): Wine press. 14/1444. House Tomb 3, Room 4. (Pl. Lf-h). Mended from many sherds; missing large part of body, rim and spout. H. 31.5; th. 2.9. w. 102.5, rim d. 57.7-84. Base: flat, rough underneath; body: deep, wide, elliptical; rim: wide, rounded, following body profile; handles: one preserved and attachments of a second on front of body, vertical, circular section, loop shaped, on max. diameter, near spout; spout: wide, on the center of the hole round protrusion. Coarse 10 ΥR 8/3 (very pale brown) clay, many small and middlesized inclusions, 7.5 R 5/2 (grayish-red) core. Self slip. Thin 2.5 YR 4/6 (reddish-brown) ranging to black, very worn paint. Decoration: bands on rim and spout and on max. diameter. Dating: EM III securely dated by a globular one handled cup found inside. Skeletal remains: (identified by Sotiria Kiorpe). (Pl. Li) In the wine press there were the remnants of at least three people, two deciduous teeth (two left first molar of lower mandible) and one adult male. Some bones had traces of fire. Context: House Tomb 3, Room 4. Upper layer. (Pl. Lj). The wine press, a domestic vessel was probably in secondary use in the tomb, given the fact that it was deposited with parts of its rim and body broken and missing. EM III. In the vessel there was a one-handled globular cup. House Tomb 27 (Pl. XLVIIIa-b): Pithoid jar. 17/1844. House Tomb 27, Room 1. Locus 15. (Pl. LIIa-b). H. 24; base d. 11.3; rim d. 14.5; th. 0.5. Mended from many sherds, missing small parts of body, chippings of rim. Base: flat, rough underneath; body: oval; rim: thin, incurving, following body profile, long and large open spout, and opposite it conical lug; handles: two, horizontal, slightly oblique, circular section, below rim, two small, vertical, circular section on either side of spout. Fine 7.5 YR 8/4 (light yellow-orange), few inclusions, 7.5 R 5/2 (grayish-red) core. Handmade. Self slip. Dating: MM IA. Skeletal remains: (identified by Despoina Zafeiri). (Pl. LIIc) few cranial fragments and long bones of a newborn infant. Context: MM IA. House Tomb 27, Room 1, was excavated underneath House Tomb 11 (MM IB-IIB). House Tomb 1 (Pl. XLVIIIc-d): One handled large bowl. 17/1139. House Tomb 1, Room 10. Locus 9. (Pl. LIIIa-c). H. 8.9; base d. 12.4; rim d. 27.2; th. 0.8. Mended from 21 sherds. Base: flat; body: conical; rim: rounded, following body profile; handle: basket, circular section, on rim. Fine 5 YR 7/4 (dull orange) clay, few inclusions. Thick slip of same color. 5YR 6/1 (brownish-gray), ranging to 2.5 YR 5/6 (bright brown) and 7.5 YR 8/2 (light gray) added paints. Decoration: Light-on-dark: int. dark paint: monochrome base and lower body, wide band on rim;

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yellowish paint: three zones on base with double contour, filled with net pattern; on rim pending triangles, filled with net pattern; monochrome upper part of handle. Dating: MM IA. Skeletal remains: (identified by Anastasia Katsaveli). (Pl. LIIId). The skull belonged to a woman, 25-35 years old. Context: House Tomb 1 is the largest of the excavated house tombs in the Petras cemetery. It was probably built in MM IA and was thoroughly cleaned in MM IB, to be reused, except for Room 10, which was underground and contained only MM IA pottery. Τhe vessel was found reversed (Pl. LIIIe). Handleless conical cup. 18/1952. House Tomb 1, Room 10, Locus 10. (Pl. LIIIf) Intact. H. 6.2; base d. 4.3; rim d. 10.7; th. 0.4. Base: flat, slightly rough underneath; body: conical, slightly S-profile; rim: rounded, following body profile; two small conical opposed protrusions on rim. Fine 2.5 YR 4/8 (reddish-brown) clay, with granite-diorite inclusions. Self slip. 5 YR 6/4 (dull orange) ranging to 2.5 YR 5/3 (dull reddish-brown), unevenly fired paint, thick added 2.5 YR 5/6 (bright brown) paint. Decoration: int.: dark paint: narrow band on rim, ext.: monochrome; yellowish paint: ext: two large triangles containing four oblique bands each on the upper angles. Dating: MM IA. Skeletal remains: (identified by Anastasia Katsaveli) The cup contained few cranial bones of a new born infant. Context: MM IA. (Pl. LIIIg). The cup was very close to the large bowl above. Trench H5 and Baulk H5/H6 (east of House Tomb 3): Cylindrical pithoid jar. 14/746. Trench H5, locus 2, bag 98. 27/6/2014. Complete. H. 25; base d. 18; rim d. 25; th. 1.5. Base: flat; body: cylindrical; rim: following body profile. Coarse 7.5 YR 8/2 (light gray) clay, many inclusions. Handmade. Thick 5 YR 7/4 (dull orange) slip. Skeletal remains: (identified by Eleni Kalliga). Very few and very poorly preserved cranial bones of an infant, near the bottom of the vessel, and the tooth of an adult. Context: This is the only burial which was found outside of a tomb in the Petras cemetery. In the pithoid jar was also a non-diagnostic sherd with a hole (probable grave good). (Pl. LIIg). Dating: EM II(?) Appendix: Ceremonial Area 1: Bath-tub larnax. 10/346. (Pl. LIId-e). It joined with 11/852 and 11/901 and sherds from bags 11/66, 12/7 and 12/13. H. 39; base d. 18-28; rim d. 61-108; th. 4. Mended from many sherds; missing large part of body and rim. Base: torus, rough underneath; body: slightly curved profile; rim: wide, horizontal, trapezoid section; handles: initially four, horizontal, circular section, below rim. Coarse 5 ΥR 7/3 (dull orange) clay, many inclusions, thick 7.5 R 5/2 (grayish-red) core. Thick worn slip, 10 YR 8/3 (light yellow-orange). Black, very worn ranging to 5 YR 5/1 (brownish-gray), unevenly spread and fired paint, very worn. Decoration: int.: wavy bands on base; on body large fish to the right on each long side, on narrow sides uncertain motifs (fish, octopus tentacle, bird (?); ext: large octopus on each long side, its tentacles arriving to the narrow sides; bands on rim and zig zag on its upper surface. Dating: LM IIIC. Context: This LM IIIC larnax was found in Ceremonial Area 1, at a level 65 cm. higher than the MM II floor. It was empty and there was no evidence about its use as a burial container. (Pl. LIIf). It was probably deposited as an act of veneration in the burial place of the ancestors.8 The decoration of this larnax is typical of the Petras workshop.9

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M. TSIPOPOULOU, “The Prepalatial-early Protopalatial cemetery at Petras, Siteia: a diachronic symbol of social coherence,” in TSIPOPOULOU ed. (supra n. 6) 117-131, figs 5a, 6, 7; 123. For the Petras workshop producing LM III larnakes, M. TSIPOPOULOU and L. VAGNETTI, “Workshop Attributions for some Late Minoan III East Cretan Larnakes,” in R. LAFFINEUR and P.P. BETANCOURT (eds), ΤΕΧΝΗ. Craftsmen, Craftswomen and Craftsmanship in the Aegean Bronze Age, Proceedings of the 6th International Aegean Conference (1997) 473-479.

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Discussion The appearance of burial vessels in EM II Crete, initially pithoi and later also larnakes, became much more common in the Late Prepalatial and the Protopalatial periods. This development must have had a cause and a particular meaning. There have been extensive discussions among various scholars on this matter, and several ideas were proposed, none of them completely convincing or applicable to all (or even most) cases. Keith Branigan suggested that the use would have been related to an elevated social status of the individuals buried in these vessels, and the appearance of a spirit of individualism, connected with the social developments that led eventually to the appearance of the first palaces. This was in sharp contrast to the practices at the beginning of the Early Minoan period, when social equality was the rule. This idea was thought that applied especially for burial vessels found in the tholoi of South-Central Crete.10 Yannis Hamilakis has recently criticized Branigan’s ideas in a very analytical way11 and concluded that they could not be used to explain the adoption of burial containers. It should be stressed however that Branigan himself never suggested that the idea of the social differentiations can be of universal value to explain this practice. And, certainly, infant burials in pithoid jars, present but rare in Crete, belong to a completely different tradition 12 and have nothing to do with individuality, privacy, invisibility and concealment, notions that it is not easy to prove that were significant for the Minoans or indeed any prehistoric society, as Hamilakis argued.13 Also recently Borje Legara Herrero has discussed the same issue, agreeing with Hamilakis.14 It should be pointed out here that the use of burial containers, namely pithoi, started already in EM II, as the examples from the Sissi cemetery show.15 On the other hand, in most Pre- and Proto-palatial burial containers (larnakes and pithoi), there is not one undisturbed primary burial, as was the case in the majority of the LM III counterparts. Usually, and Petras is not an exception, in the larnakes and the pithoi there are the skeletal remains of more than one individual. Hamilakis concluded that larnakes “should be seen as one of many material strategies for the arrangement, subdivision and organization of the funerary space, along with other compartments such as antechambers, enclosures and pits.16 Giorgos Vavouranakis, who examined in detail burial containers, mainly pithoi but also larnakes,17 suggested that the use of burial pithoi within tholoi or house tombs, should not to be seen a priori as an indication of social evolution and changes, but rather as a change in the meaning of the burial practices, or rather a change in the conception of death in particular societies. He believes that after the deposition of a body in a pithos or a larnax, no one would bother to deal with it anymore, and thus burial containers were used to signify the isolation of the dead from their social group.18 This idea can be easily accepted in 10

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K. BRANIGAN, The Foundation of Palatial Crete. A Survey of Crete in the Early Bronze Age (1970) 159, 169, 176-177. Y. HAMILAKIS, Archaeology and the Senses (2014) 143-144. For infant burials in pithoi jars see P.J.P. MCGEORGE, “The Petras intramural jar burial: context, symbolism, eschatology”, in TSIPOPOULOU (ed.) (surpa n. 6) 291-304, with bibliography; Also B. LEGARRA HERRERO, Mortuary Behavior and Social Trajectories in Pre- and Protopalatial Crete (2014) 71, reports other cases: an EM II pithos burial of an infant from Nopigeia, in western Crete, and another one at Palaikastro, Tomb VIIa, dated to the MM IA. Cf. also G. VAVOURANAKIS, “Funerary Pithoi in Bronze Age Crete: Their Introduction and Significance at the Threshold of Minoan Palatial Society,” AJA 118 (2014) 198, where the case of four EM IIA small jars with the remains of children is mentioned. HAMILAKIS (surpa n. 11) 145. LEGARRA HERRERO (surpa n. 12) 55-56. VAVOURANAKIS (surpa n. 12) 198, points out that according to K. Christakis 30% of the excavated Minoan pithoi are burial containers. The fact that some pithoi were used as burial containers after they were broken, is easily explained if one considers how important for a household a large storage jar was, and to be withdrawn from circulation while still complete, would be a great loss for the owners (p. 214). HAMILAKIS (surpa n. 11) 149. G. VAVOURANAKIS, Funerary Landscapes East of Lasithi, Crete, in the Bronze Age (2007) 57. VAVOURANAKIS (supra n. 17) 137.

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the case of cemeteries consisting exclusively of pithoi containing individual burials, such as Sphoungaras19 and Pacheia Ammos,20 but cannot explain cases such as Petras. Evidence similar to that offered by Petras is known from other Cretan cemeteries previously excavated, where primary and secondary burials in pithoi and larnakes were found in the same context with burials -usually secondary - on the ground. Such examples are offered by Pezoules Zakrou,21 where a larnax contained an undisturbed primary burial as well as two skulls, by the two tholoi at Vorou,22 and also at Archanes.23 What seems certain is that these vessels were used to isolate certain individuals from the others buried in the same house tomb, enclosure or tholos tomb. It is interesting to point out that the use of burial vessels was not the only means used by the Minoans to separate some members of each community from the rest of the deceased. In the Petras cemetery, as well as in other burial places of the Pre- and Proto-palatial periods, such as tholoi of the Mesara,24 house tombs of Mochlos,25 and even in the large burial cave at Aghios Charalambos26 on the Lassithi plateau, and in the burial rock shelter at Kavousi Evraika,27 small walls were used to isolate groups of bones of secondary burials and/or form small niches. All these walls were probably very low. At Petras they are often built on top of other bone concentrations, and did not serve to support the roofs of the rooms. Within the areas thus formed, were deposited either a group of skulls, or skulls with other parts of skeletons.28 A special mention should be made for the presence of a female skull in the decorated large bowl from House Tomb 1, Room 10. Skulls were often kept and put in special places in Minoan tombs, either isolated or in groups. It cannot be excluded that these skulls belong to members of the society who had some special importance. In our case the skull was not displayed but instead covered by a reverse open vessel. There is a similar case from Archanes, where a skull was inserted into a pithoid jar.29 Yannis. Sakellarakis and Efi Sakellaraki suggest that the symbolic importance of skulls is also indicated by the preservation of the skulls of sacrificial animals (i.e. bucrania).30 In eastern Crete there is another example of an open vessel, which was used as a burial container for secondary burials, a large pedestalled fruitstand from the rock shelter at Kavousi-Evraika.31

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E. HALL, Excavations in Eastern Crete, Sphoungaras (1912). R. SEAGER, The Cemetery of Pachyammos, Crete (1910). Cf. J.S. SOLES, The Prepalatial Cemeteries at Mochlos and Gournia and the House Tombs of Bronze Age Crete (1992) 256, where it is stressed that burials in pithos cemeteries, such as at Malia, Sphoungaras and Pacheia Ammos did not receive any secondary treatment or manipulation. This was not the case in cemeteries where a variety of burial practices is used, such as at Petras. L. PLATON, “Pezoules Kephala, Zakros I. Form of the Tombs and Burial Habits,” in TSIPOPOULOU ed. (supra n. 1) 341-354, esp. 344-345. S. MARINATOS, “Δύο πρώιμοι μινωικοί τάφοι εκ Βορού Μεσαράς,” ΑrchDelt 13 (1930-1931) 154 Y. SAKELARAKIS and E. SAKELLARAKI, Archanes. Minoan Crete in a New Light I (1997) 248 HAMILAKIS (surpa n. 11) 151. Walls similar to those of Petras are found in early tholoi (EM I-II), such as Platanos and Lebena, but they seem to part of the original plan. Similar are the niches formed by dividing walls at Sissi, dated to EM II. R. SEAGER, The Cemetery of Pachyammos, Crete (1910) P.P. BETANCOURT, Hagios Charalambos. A Minoan Burial Cave in Crete. I. Excavation and Portable Objects (2014) Pl. 9c. M. TSIPOPOULOU, “Kavousi, Evraika: A Middle Minoan Burial Rock Shelter in Eastern Crete,” in M. BETTELLI and M. DEL FREO (eds), Mediterranea Itiniera. Studies in Honor of Lucia Vagnetti (2018) fig. 2, 114. HAMILAKIS (surpa n. 11) 152. Cf. also Y. PAPADATOS, Tholos Tomb Gamma. A Prepalatial Tholos Tomb at Phourni, Archanes (2005) 60, for the association of the secondary deposition of skulls with ritual offerings made inside cups from Archanes. In the same context it is suggested that the skull excavated in the settlement of Myrtos-Phournou Koryphi, in front of a tripartite altar-shaped structure belongs to possible ancestors worship. SAKELLARAKIS and SAKELLARAKI (supra n. 23) 251. SAKELLARAKIS and SAKELLARAKI (supra n. 23) 250. TSIPOPOULOU (supra n. 27) fig. 4, 116.

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Recent excavations, prominent among them the large Petras cemetery, as well as the excavation at Sissi, as far as pithoi are concerned,32 proved that the idea of using pithoi for the prominent members of a society is not valid, first of all because the burial containers usually contained the remains of more than one individual, either all secondary burials, or one primary (usually heavily manipulated) and bones of secondary burials. Further, these vessels usually did not contain any grave goods and thus it becomes impossible to argue that they were used for people of high social status. Although the cemeteries and isolated tombs of Pre- and Proto-palatial Crete belong to the same general cultural framework, there are many differences between sites, and often between tombs of the same cemetery. Furthermore, new finds often demonstrate that the situation was in fact more complex than what was previously thought, and instead of answering previous questions, new questions arise. Τhe Petras cemetery is no exception to this “rule”. As it is the only extensive cemetery in Crete excavated in the 21st century, using modern methods and protocols, presents some similarities with the rest of its contemporary cemeteries and also many differences. Although limited in number the burial containers excavated in the Petras cemetery, they offer an interesting variety: only the larnakes were made exclusively for burial use, the rest of them (a spouted pithos, two pithoid jars, a wine press, a large bowl and a cup), were initially domestic vessels, and were deposited in the tombs after their domestic use.33 In addition, the large pithos and the wine press were already missing some parts and, thus, they were useless for a domestic use and symbolically dead. As the pithos could have been used to store wine, and the vat was also used for the production of wine, can one detect here a possible symbolism and a connection of the wine with burial practices? It is noteworthy also to point out that all the larnakes of Petras were also in secondary use and, thus, missing parts or having repair holes. In conclusion, whatever the reason for the use in certain cases of burial containers, either for primary or for secondary burials, the cemetery of Petras offers very clear evidence of a radical change in behavior towards the dead in the Protopalatial period, namely the shift from acts of burial rites taking place in the house tombs during the Prepalatial, to rites of veneration of the ancestors serving the social cohesion of the living and taking place in well-defined, large open areas within the cemetery adjacent to the tombs, the Ceremonial Areas 1 and 2, both created in MM IB/IIA. Metaxia TSIPOPOULOU

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33

I. SCHOEP, I. CREVECOEUR, A. SCHMITT and P. TOMKINS, “Funerary Practices at Sissi: The Treatment of the Body in the House Tombs,” in TSIPOPOULOU ed. (supra n. 1) 369-384 (with previous bibliography). For pithoi produced exclusively for burial use, K. CHRISTAKIS, Cretan Bronze Age Pithoi. Traditions and Trends in the Production and Consumption of Storage Containers in Bronze Age Crete (2005) 56, 82. He suggests that there was at least one workshop producing pithoi in the area of the Isthmus of Ierapetra, to serve the cemeteries at Sphoungaras and Pacheia Ammos, as well as a second workshop which distributed its products to Knossos and Archanes. He also suggests that the decoration of the funerary pithoi of the Mirabello area had an added value, and that these beautifully decorated funerary vessels were on display during the burial ceremonies.

BURIAL CONTAINERS IN THE PRE- AND PROTO-PALATIAL CEMETERY OF PETRAS

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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Pl. XLV Pl. XLVI Pl. XLVIIa Pl. XLVIIb Pl. XLVIIc Pl. XLVIId Pl. XLVIIe Pl. XLVIIf Pl. XLVIIIa Pl. XLVIIIb Pl. XLVIIIc Pl. XLVIIId Pl. XLIXa Pl. XLIXb Pl. XLIXc Pl. XLIXd Pl. XLIXe Pl. XLIXf Pl. XLIXg Pl. XLIXh Pl. XLIXi Pl. La Pl. Lb Pl. Lc Pl. Ld Pl. Le Pl. Lf Pl. Lg Pl. Lh Pl. Li Pl. Lj Pl. LIa Pl. LIb

Petras Cemetery, plan of 2018 (M. Tsipopoulou, G. Kostopoulou, Petras excavation archive). Petras Cemetery, aerial photo 2018 (M. Tsipopoulou, M. G. Clinton, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 2, aerial photo (M. Tsipopoulou, M. G. Clinton, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 2, plan (M. Tsipopoulou, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 7, aerial photo (M. Tsipopoulou, M. G. Clinton, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 7, plan (M. Tsipopoulou, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 3, aerial photo (M. Tsipopoulou, M. G. Clinton, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 3, plan (M. Tsipopoulou, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 27, aerial photo (M. Tsipopoulou, M. G. Clinton, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 27, plan (M. Tsipopoulou, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 1 aerial photo (M. Tsipopoulou, M. G. Clinton, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 1 plan (M. Tsipopoulou, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 2, Room 1. Bath-tub larnax (05-175) (M. Tsipopoulou, Chr. Papanikolopoulos, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 2, Room 1. Bath-tub larnax (05-175) (M. Tsipopoulou, D. Faulmann, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 2, Room 1. Bath-tub larnax (05-175) with skeletal remains (M. Tsipopoulou, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 2, Room 1. Larnax (05-175) and pithos (05-174) in situ (M. Tsipopoulou, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 2, Room 3. Chest-shaped larnax (05-118) (M. Tsipopoulou, Chr. Papanikolopoulos, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 2, Room 3. Chest-shaped larnax (05-118) (M. Tsipopoulou, Chr. Papanikolopoulos, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 2, Room 3. Chest-shaped larnax (05-118) (M. Tsipopoulou, Chr. Papanikolopoulos, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 2, Room 3. Chest-shaped larnax (05-118) with skeletal remains (M. Tsipopoulou, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 2, Room 3. Chest-shaped larnax (05-118) in situ (M. Tsipopoulou, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 7, Room 2. Bath-tub larnax (15-1044) (M. Tsipopoulou, Chr. Papanikolopoulos, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 7, Room 2. Bath-tub larnax (15-1044) (M. Tsipopoulou, Chr. Papanikolopoulos, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 7, Room 2. Bath-tub larnax (15-1044) (M. Tsipopoulou, D. Faulmann, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 7, Room 2. Bath-tub larnax (15-1044) with skeletal remains (M. Tsipopoulou, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 7, Room 2. Bath-tub larnax (15-1044) in situ after removal of bones (M. Tsipopoulou, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 3, Room 4. Wine-press (14-1444) (M. Tsipopoulou, Chr. Papanikolopoulos, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 3, Room 4. Wine-press (14-1444) (M. Tsipopoulou, Chr. Papanikolopoulos, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 3, Room 4. Wine-press (14-1444) (M. Tsipopoulou, D. Faulmann, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 3, Room 4. Wine-press (14-1444) with skeletal remains (M. Tsipopoulou, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 3, Room 4. Wine-press (14-1444) in situ after removal of bones (M. Tsipopoulou, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 2, Room 1. Pithos (05-174) (M. Tsipopoulou, Chr. Papanikolopoulos, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 2, Room 1. Pithos (05-174) (M. Tsipopoulou, D. Faulmann, Petras excavation archive).

260 Pl. LIc Pl. LId Pl. LIe Pl. LIf Pl. LIIa Pl. LIIb Pl. LIIc Pl. LIId Pl. LIIe Pl. LIIf Pl. LIIg Pl. LIIIa Pl. LIIIb Pl. LIIIc Pl. LIIId Pl. LIIIe Pl. LIIIf Pl. LIIIg

Metaxia TSIPOPOULOU House Tomb 2, Room 1. Cylindrical pithoid (05-167) (M. Tsipopoulou, Chr. Papanikolopoulos, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 2, Room 1. Cylindrical pithoid (05-167) (M. Tsipopoulou, D. Faulmann, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 2, Room 1. Pithos (05-174) and cylindrical pithoid (05-167) with skeletal remains (M. Tsipopoulou, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 2, Room 1. Pithos (05-174) and cylindrical pithoid (05-167) in situ (M. Tsipopoulou, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 27, Room 1. Pithoid jar (17-1844) (M. Tsipopoulou, Chr. Papanikolopoulos, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 27, Room 1. Pithoid jar (17-1844) (M. Tsipopoulou, D. Faulmann, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 27, Room 1. Pithoid jar (17-1844) with skeletal remains (M. Tsipopoulou, Petras excavation archive). Ceremonial Area 1. Bath-tub larnax (10-346) (M. Tsipopoulou, Chr. Papanikolopoulos, Petras excavation archive). Ceremonial Area 1. Bath-tub larnax (10-346) (M. Tsipopoulou, D. Faulmann, Petras excavation archive). Ceremonial Area 1. Bath-tub larnax (10-346) in situ (M. Tsipopoulou, Petras excavation archive). Trench H5 and Baulk H5/H6. Cylindrical pithoid jar (14-746) in situ (M. Tsipopoulou, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 1, Room 10. One-handled large bowl (17-1139) (M. Tsipopoulou, Chr. Papanikolopoulos, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 1, Room 10. One-handled large bowl (17-1139) (M. Tsipopoulou, Chr. Papanikolopoulos, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 1, Room 10. One-handled large bowl (17-1139) (M. Tsipopoulou, D. Faulmann, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 1, Room 10. One-handled large bowl (17-1139) with skeletal remains (M. Tsipopoulou, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 1, Room 10. One-handled large bowl (17-1139) in situ (M. Tsipopoulou, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 1, Room 10. Handleless conical cup (18-1952) (M. Tsipopoulou, Chr. Papanikolopoulos, D. Faulmann, Petras excavation archive). House Tomb 1, Room 10. Handleless conical cup (18-1952), trace of soil after removal (M. Tsipopoulou, Petras excavation archive).




XLV

XLVI

XLVII

a

XLVIII

XLIX

L

LI

LII

LIII

ROCKS AND THE SEA AT MYRINA KASTRO, LEMNOS ISLAND8 Introduction Lemnos island, in the North-East Aegean Sea, is situated at a distance of approximately 50 miles to the West of the entrance of the Dardanelles straits and 38 miles to the East of the Athos peninsula. On its western coast, the Kastro rocky headland, located between two bays, both having been used as harbours in the past, bounds the southern, present port of the capital, Myrina, the latter formerly also named Kastro, from the North (Pl. LIVa). The headland area consists of lava domes (and monomistic breccias), most rocks being of dacite to trachydacite composition of the Lower Miocene (Tertiary).1 Projecting from the main island towards the West, Kastro is joined to it by a ridge, which was much thinner a few centuries ago.2 The low coastal area around and both sides of this isthmus consists of Holocene (Quaternary) deposits.3 Kastro contains several elevations and peaks, with its summit up to about 116 meters above present sea level.4 On its rocks a large number of early features have been carved, which must have initially covered a much more extended area, as well as more densely, than now preserved, since several structures must have been lost in sectors which have been heavily re-occupied later on. Besides man-made damage, the rocks have been eroded from natural conditions, wind and water. The castle on Kastro was built in 1207 by the Navigaiosi of Venice over an earlier byzantine fort, on the northern flank of Kastro and was subsequently occupied by the Genovese and later the Ottomans.5 After the Medieval period, mainly from the 16th century onwards, western travellers and visitors mostly observed the castle and the lower town and commented on them, hardly if ever mentioning other areas of the headland. They noticed just a few, earlier than Medieval, rock-cut structures, situated close to their itinerary uphill, towards the upper gate, as well as inside the walls of the Medieval and post-Medieval fort, in the Northern and central part of the hilly peninsula.6 This lack of interest is confirmed by the absence or rarity of Medieval and later mobile finds in some investigated areas, such as in the southern and southeastern part of the peninsula. Up to the mid-20th century, this was clearly a space outside the town, at the border of which the municipal butchery, and later public lavatories were located. Unfortunately, quarrying activities subsequently destroyed a large sector of the southern flank.

∗

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2 3 4 5

6

I wish to thank the volume editors for their kind invitation to contribute. Sincere thanks are due to the Ephorate of Antiquities of Lesbos (former K’ Ephorate of Prehistoric and Classical Antiquities), the Council for the Monuments of the Islands and the Greek Ministry of Culture for the study and publication permit of the Kastro rock-cut features, rock art and relative mobile finds. Warm thanks to project collaborators, till now: S. Andriotou, Fr. Depuydt, Y. Facorellis, A. Goyens, D. Greger, T. Krapf, M. Ntinou, Chr. Pagoni, A. Polosa, A. Sarpaki, Chr. Takos, R. Veropoulidou, E. Yannouli, N. Xanalatou and her team. I am deeply indebted to John Younger for his most precious comments on Kastro graffiti and signs on pottery, including what would seem to be a Linear A sign. GEOLOGICAL MAP (ΙΓΜΕ), Γεωλογικός Χάρτης Ελλάδας: 1:50.000 Νήσος Λήμνος (1993); A.P. FORNADEL, P.C. VOUDOURIS, P.G. SPRY, AND V. MELFOS, “Mineralogical, stable isotope, and fluid inclusion studies of spatially related porphyry Cu and epithermal Au-Te mineralization, Fakos Peninsula, Limnos island, Greece,” Mineralogy and Petrology 105. 1 (2012) 85-111, in particular 89. See further and infra n. 11. GEOLOGICAL MAP (supra n. 1). ADMIRALTY CHART, Plans in the Northern Aegean Sea (1998), Admiralty Chart no. 1636. CASTRORUM CIRCUMNAVIGATIO ΚΆΣΤΡΩΝ ΠΕΡΊΠΛΟΥΣ (collective publication) (1999) (second edition), 56-57. C. MARANGOU, “Το Κάστρο της Μύρινας στην προϊστορία και αρχαιότητα: λαξεύματα και βραχογραφίες,” in P. KALOGERAKOU et al. (eds), Τιμητικός Τόμος για τον Γεώργιο Στυλ. Κορρέ (in press).

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On-going research On-going surface and sub-surface research in extended areas on the hilly Kastro headland focuses on rock-cut features and related mobile finds.7 Till now, early human influence is attested in various phases from late prehistory to late antiquity. In spite of dating difficulties of various features found on the surface, the continuity of occupation on the peninsula during several periods, at least since the Bronze Age (without excluding earlier presence), in the Iron Age, the Archaic, Classical, Hellenistic and probably Roman periods, obviously shows that the place had importance, even though its meanings may have changed considerably during such a long time span. Research in progress revealed a very complex constructed maritime cultural landscape at Kastro.8 Preserved rock-cut features and rock art, as well as connected finds, cover several sectors, each one with its own characteristics, structures, material finds and presumably differentiated uses. The setting includes outcrops and boulders and the rocky ground relief which have apparently been exploited because of their physical characteristics, including for utilitarian reasons, such as stairs or water management in artificial, open air ditches along slopes9 – but not only. Solutions to practical, concrete concerns may obviously have been sought for, by means of some structures and as suggested by a number of finds. However, functionalities and uses are not obvious in a number of cases, while a mise-en-scène may have been pursued and symbolic patterns and behaviours may be hinted at by material finds, as well as implied by nonunderstandable carved components. Besides rocks, a general maritime orientation constitutes a key aspect of the site, yet the inferred schemes of this archaeological setting seem quite manifold. The sea is omnipresent around the Kastro and there are multiple tangible ways in which its occupants would have been involved with maritime matters, directly and indirectly, in various sectors of the site. However, practices appear multifarious and the processes may sometimes infer transcendental patterns. At the present stage of on-going research, in addition to or intermingled with economic, trade, nautical and generally maritime connections, the interpretation hypotheses also involve ritual practices or symbolic performances, including possible influences from liminal processes or stages. The latter are indeed to be expected in areas of transitions, such as land-and-sea boundaries. In a number of diachronically occupied areas (late prehistory - antiquity), the scenery consists of complexes of artificial carved constructions, integrated within the natural surroundings. According to ongoing research, there is evidence about an early (Bronze Age-Iron Age, if not earlier) dating of some, at least, rock-cut features. Two types of such structures are briefly described here, in a preliminary presentation. If flights of steps and stepped ramps on Kastro may often seem to be simply utilitarian, in the following cases any comprehensible function of some steps is not obvious. Stepped rocks, façades and niches The earliest identified natural and man-made structures may be those shaped on a natural protrusion of the rock, projecting horizontally from the hill flank, while an impressive natural outcrop overhangs it. The rock has a relatively regular or smoothed upper surface, worked and flattened on top, 7

8

9

C. MARANGOU, “On-going research at Myrina Kastro, Lemnos island: current matters and points at issue,” in V. MARKOV (ed.), Proceedings of the Second International Symposium on Ancient Cultures in South-East Europe and the Eastern Mediterranean, “Megalithic Monuments and Cult Practices” (2016) 185-194. C. MARANGOU, “A Constructed Maritime Landscape: The Carved Setting at Myrina Kastro (Island of Lemnos, Greece),” in J. C. HENDERSON (ed), IKUWA 3. Beyond Boundaries. Proceedings of the 3rd International Congress on Underwater Archaeology, 9th to the 12th July 2008, London (2012) 269-276. On the term “maritime cultural landscape” see C. WESTERDAHL, “Seal on land, Elk at Sea: Notes on and Applications of the Ritual Landscape at the Seaboard,” IJNA 34.1 (2005) 2-23. E.g. C. MARANGOU, “Carved Rocks, functional and symbolic (Lemnos island, Greece),” in D. SEGLIE, M. OTTE, L. OOSTERBEEK and L. REMACLE (eds), Prehistoric Art: Signs, Symbols, Myth, Ideology (2009) 93-101, in particular 95, fig. 12.6.

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while a short niche is carved on the upper front part, a long, narrow niche lower and a platform/floor by its base, in front of the viewer. Horizontal or vertical cavities or cup-marks may be dug on the rock itself, on its upper surface, on the vertical front panel/façade, or into the floor/lower platform. A few small ascending steps, which lead to the higher part, are carved on both sides of the rock (Pl. LIVb). At the base of one of these structures, traces of early occupation were identified, according to preliminary observations, the pottery likely dating from the end of the Late Bronze Age, Troy VII, if not already Troy VI, and the beginning of the Iron Age Troy VIIb. The lateral small steps may have initially been carved to help climbing, not just to the upper part of the carved structure, but rather to the front of the natural outcrop, originally jutting out from the hill flank over the structure. This natural rock may not always be preserved in its complete original shape. In fact, presumed early rock-cut structures have at least occasionally been modified, possibly in subsequent periods. For example, such a partly preserved structure may belong at the same time to the side wall of a later carved “room” with “postholes”. In another case, presenting a conspicuous façade, the rock was cut into an upper flattened surface/platform with a niche-like construction on its top, yet leaving two lateral, engraved panels with oblique niches on both sides. The small steps on both sides of the rock still lead upstairs to the platform, surrounded by a carved path, in front and under an impressive outcrop that bears later(?) traces of tools. On the floor in front of the façade, a channel, as well as holes or cup-marks and a pit were dug. The above-presented structure (Pl. LIVb), in the southern sector, its façade orientated towards the South and the sea, at about 29 meters above present sea level, is situated on the side of a rocky thoroughfare. A few meters further, the road is crossed by two descending flights of steps, combined to ramps and natural paths, which connect thus the area to lower levels and lead towards the sea coast. While early evidence (Late Bronze Age – Early Iron Age) was found at the base of the rock-cut structure and thus belongs to the initial occupation of the road, fragments of later pottery and terracotta figurines (Classic?) wearing a polos (high headgear) and/or enthroned were found by the crossroads, at a very short distance10 and therefore attest a long continuity of use of this area, overlooking the Myrina harbour and the sea, including for symbolic/ritual purposes. Examples of this type of early structure have relatively rarely been observed till now, although they may well have been more numerous. They are generally preserved on the surface, with isolated cases attested in the southern and eastern areas, but also inside the castle walls, and even by a later medieval or ottoman construction near the summit of the northern fortified knoll of the peninsula. The identified ones have slightly diverse orientations, but most of them face the east, south-east or south. Yet, it is not excluded that initially they all faced the sea, if the peninsula was in fact rather (almost?) an island at the time of their construction: the isthmus joining Kastro to the main island was much narrower and marshy still in the 16th century, while there was a swing bridge crossing over the sea level.11 Stepped dead-ends and vertically fixed stones Surprisingly, more evidence about maritime connections comes from a south-eastern area, again at about 29 meters above present sea level, but this time without direct view of the sea. The focus is now on a restricted spatial unit, integrated within rock-hewn scenery, where initially three prominences were visible on the surface, giving the impression of protrusions (humps) of the rock surface. Finally, the prominences proved to be in fact the summits of three longish rocks fixed vertically into the earth and stabilized with small stones. Their maximum dimension attains up to 40 centimetres. The three stones 10

11

C. MARANGOU, “Land and Sea connections: the Kastro rock-cut site (Lemnos island, Aegean Sea, Greece),” in L. BLUE, F. HOCKER and A. ENGLERT (eds), Connected by the Sea. Proceedings of the 10th International Symposium on Boat and Ship Archaeology (Roskilde 2003) (2006) 130-136. P. BELON DU MANS, Observations de plvsieurs singularitez et choses mémorables, trouvées en Grèce, Asie, Judé, Egypte, Arabie & autres pays estranges, rédigées en trois liures. Reueuz de nouveau et augmentez de Figures (1588) 57 ; O. DAPPERT, Description exacte des îles de l’archipel et de quelques autres adjacentes, dont les principales sont Chypre, Rhodes, Candie, Samos, Chio, Negrepont, Lemnos, Paros, Delos, Patmos avec un grand nombre d’autres (1703) 241, 243.

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form the angles of a rough “triangle” (Pl. LVa), its angles orientated towards the North-West, the NorthEast and the South/South-East. The space was investigated for approximately three square meters delimited by carved rocks, the latter situated towards the West, North and East/North-East. After removal of the three stones and the related layer, the rock surface was reached. Yet, a part of it was covered with flattish stones, arranged horizontally, from West to East, continuing towards the South, beyond the limit of the examined area. One angle of the upright rocks – of the “triangle” – was partly superposed to the edge of the zone of flat stones (the “pavement”), but not directly over it, and thus “triangle” and “pavement” do not seem to be related. The deposit over the “pavement” was rich in animal bones, shells and pottery sherds.12 The study of the material is still in progress, but we may already say that the sherds of the layers over the “pavement”, thus related to the “triangle”, belong mostly to fine, monochrome pottery, including Grey Ware, but also (mostly brown on cream) painted pottery – decorated G 2-3 ware, thus giving an approximate preliminary dating estimation, in the end of the 8th century and the first half of the 7th century BC.13 On the contrary, pottery sherds from the thin layer under the “pavement” seem to be mainly coarse, with few finer monochrome sherds. The difference in ceramics would suggest that the deposits of the “triangle” and its area post-date the construction of the “pavement” and are not connected to it. In fact, the “triangle” context would date of the Iron Age, while the “pavement” seemingly covered Bronze Age pottery. The “triangle” area comprised, besides pottery sherds and organic remains, various other clay objects. Among the latter, rounded sherds and fragments of artefacts suggesting mostly “female”/spinning activities, such as spools, as well as an incised, perforated bead/“ball”, a pronged fragmentary object and a number of figurines’ fragments, one at least wearing a polos, were found. Besides the large quantity of seashells, outnumbering similar finds from any other part of the site, 14 interestingly, some mostly monochrome sherds bear graffiti, including what seem to be ship representations. The mobile finds context reminds one of the Proto-geometric pits in Troy VIIb, late 9th to 8th century, in and around Late Bronze Age cult building “Terrace House” destroyed at the end of Troy VIIa.15 Burnt animal bones, pottery of G 2-3 style, in particular fenestrated stands and ceramic, pronged objects of unknown meaning,16 support a ritual rather than domestic interpretation. Two or three prongs extending from a central stem, sometimes topped with mushroom shaped caps, may have been originally pot attachments on the rim of a vessel, while others may have been separate figurines.17 Rituals would have taken place among the ruins of the LBA cult building in Troy, involving communal dining – possibly suggesting continuity from the LBA to the Geometric period, either involving the same deity or attesting a general memory of this being a sacred place, then re-appropriated for the religious beliefs and activities in the Iron Age.18 12 13 14 15

16

17 18

MARANGOU (supra n. 8) 271, 275. Compare G. MESSINEO, Efestia. Scavi Adriani 1928-1930 (2001) 123-174. MARANGOU (supra n. 8) 271. C. ASLAN, L. KEALHOFER and P. GRAVE, “The Early Iron Age at Troy reconsidered,” OJA 33(3) (2014) 275-312, in particular 277, 282 fig. 6; C. ASLAN, “The West Sanctuary at Troy in the Protogeometric, Geometric, and Archaic Periods,” in C. BRIAN ROSE, K. LYNCH and G. COHEN (eds), Troy Excavation Project Final Reports The West Sanctuary I: Iron Age-Classical (2019) 28-386. ASLAN, KEALHOFER and GRAVE (supra n. 15) 277, 280 fig. 4, 281 fig. 5; M. PIENIĄŻEK and C.C. ASLAN, “Heroic Past, Memory and Ritual at Troy,” in E. ALRAM-STERN, F. BLAKOLMER, S. DEGER-JALKOTZY, R. LAFFINEUR and J. WEILHARTNER (eds), METAPHYSIS. Ritual, Myth and Symbolism in the Aegean Bronze Age (2016) 423-432, Pls CXXIII-CXXVIII, in particular 429; at Troy, fenestrated stands were found in both Late Bronze Age and Protogeometric contexts: ASLAN (supra n. 15) 256. For fenestrated stands from Hephaistia see L. DANILE, La Ceramica Grigia di Efestia Dagli Inizi dell’età del Ferro all’ età alto-Arcaica: Lemno 2. Scavi ad Efestia 1 (2011) 50-52, fig. 32. PIENIĄŻEK and ASLAN (supra n. 16) 429, Pl. CXXVII; ASLAN (supra n. 15) 256-257. CHABOT-ASLAN and P. HNILA, “Migration and Integration at Troy from the End of the Late Bronze Age to the Iron Age,” in N.C. STAMPOLIDIS, C. MANER and K. KOPANIAS (eds), Nostoi. Indigenous Culture, Migration, Integration in the Aegean islands, Western Anatolia during the Late Bronze Age and Early iron Ages

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The triangular arrangement of stones at Kastro could be interpreted as a boundary, the demarcation of a special space, located between the “triangle” and the carved rock to the West. Yet, in reality, this “significant place” presents some additional distinctive characteristics. By its western edge, a rather narrow and abrupt flight of steps had been carved on the rock, ascending towards the West. The “triangle” was in fact situated in front and slightly to the left (towards the South), under the base of the carved flight of steps. The steps become narrower on their higher, western part and stop into the rock without any visible issue: this is a dead-end, terminating with a last small step at a carved vertical panel with a cavity (Pl. LVb). At the upper end of the flight of steps, some device or object could be embedded/inserted into “dowel-holes”, if the latter were not cup-marks/libation holes.19 This ensemble reminds us of the so-called stepped altars, with an upper “idol-shaped” seat, well known mostly from Phrygia, where they have been associated in particular to Iron Age cult, although with a long prehistory in previous centuries.20 In front of some of these monuments – also facing South-East –, at the base of the steps and slightly to the side, there are three roughly circular rock prominences, left when the rest of the structure and surroundings was cut out.21 In other cases, there are three holes instead, always forming a triangle. Three “post-holes” within the above-mentioned Terrace House in Troy were also forming a rough triangle.22 Instead of the protuberances or holes, at Kastro, it was the three vertically fixed rocks that were arranged in a triangle.23 A “utilitarian” objective, such as, for example, delimiting a special functional area(?) or stabilizing a vessel(?) cannot be excluded, but then again this would happen almost in front of the base of the rock-cut stepped dead-end. The situation is even more complex, as the “pavement” under the “triangle” is in fact covering a “filling”, reducing some irregularities of the rock ground, levelling it. This might, at the same time, form a platform in front of the stepped rock but, simultaneously, it would belong to a road, probably preceding the “triangle”. This is one of the South-North passageways across an important rock complex -a landmark- of this sector, which has an approximately East-South-East/ West-North-West orientation.24 The implication is, that both the “triangle” and the “pavement” were located on the side of a road. Moreover, this again is in fact a crossroads: three ways with diverging directions are crossing at this spot, the flight of ascending steps, the passageway through the main rock towards the North and a second flight of steps leading to a rock boulder towards the North-North-East. This was then a triodhos, a place where three ways cross: in antiquity, such crossroads were considered as important, liminal, even dangerous places, where various divinities received ritual offerings. The burned animal bones, the accumulation of shells, the figurines and other objects and even the sherds graffiti could then represent remains of early ritual/symbolic events.

19

20

21

22

23

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(2015) 185-209, in particular 202; on chronological phases of the West Sanctuary at Troy see ASLAN (supra n. 15) in particular 37-41, 247-258. As in S. BERNDT-ERSÖZ, Phrygian rock-cut shrines. Structure, function and cult practice (2006) 148; J.D. HAWKINS, “Hittite Monuments and their Sanctity,” in A. D’AGOSTINO, V. ORSI, G. TORRI (eds), Sacred Landscapes of Hittites and Luwians: proceedings of the International Conference in Honour of Franca Pecchioli Daddi: Florence, 6th-8th February 2014 (2015) 1-9. See among many others H. EHRINGHAUS, Götter, Herrscher, Inschriften. Die Felsreliefs der hethitischen Grossreichszeit in der Türkei (2005); S. BERNDT-ERSÖZ, “Sacred Space in Iron Age Phrygia,” in C. GATES, J. MORIN and T. ZIMMERMANN (eds), Sacred Landscapes in Anatolia and Neighbouring Regions (2009), 11-19. See for example W.M. RAMSAY, “A study of Phrygian Art (Part II)”, JHS X (1889) 147-189, in particular 168, fig. 20. PIENIĄŻEK and ASLAN (supra n. 16) 430; the Posthole Structure dates from the Geometric period: ASLAN (supra n. 15) 261. It might be interesting to reconsider the “enigmatic Vertical Stones Features 1 and 2,” mentioned in ASLAN (supra n. 15) 257; according to her, they may have been used, as fenestrated stands and pronged objects, in the Protogeometric period, although their dating is uncertain. C. MARANGOU, “Rocks and Itineraries: Sea and Land Perspectives on an Aegean island,” in W.H. WALDREN and J.A. ENSEYAT (eds), World Islands in Prehistory. International Insular Investigations, V Deia International Conference of Prehistory (Deia 2001) (2002) 7-18.

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Discussion Common characteristics of both presented early rock-cut structures appear to be their situation on the side of a road or passage, at or close to a crossroads between a road, rock boulders and rock stairs, as well as either a real or a symbolic connection to the sea. Kastro rock carved steps and passages would imply, most significantly, maritime connections, either because their location is facing the sea and is connected to the coast, or, even at a distance from the sea, because of “marine” finds (shells, ship graffiti); at the same time, such places hint at a (diachronic) female presence. “Cult” stepped structures ending in carved niches are known from various areas, as in NorthEastern Greece, Bulgarian Thrace, islands of Eastern Aegean and in Anatolia.25 It is usually believed that similar structures occur since the Late Bronze Age, or even earlier, till the Late Iron Age of Thrace (12th to 3rd c. BC), from the Hittite to the Roman periods in Anatolia. Owen interpreted “a strange rock altar” and pits as a ritual place of “Thracian cult” on Thasos.26 In Samothrace, the oldest phase of the Kaveirion would reflect a “primitive character of the cult”, as this was performed near rocks elevated like altars.27 Naydenova suggested that flights of steps and “thrones” with an extensive view, of difficult access, could represent the entrance to the upper world at the mountains’ tops. 28 Various other hypotheses of interpretation have been suggested, such as dwelling places, ritual spaces and rupestrian sanctuaries; a relationship with funerary megalithic monuments has even been suggested. In the 8th c. BC and later, in Anatolia, mainly Phrygia, but also in Samos, rock-cut structures were connected to the cult of Mother of the Mountains/the Gods or Cybele, a female divinity of nature and mountains;29 yet there is a long earlier background of rock-carving in Anatolia30 and in the Aegean.31 25

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28 29

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D. TRIANDAFYLLOS, “Les sanctuaires en plein air dans la region des Cicones,” Thracia Pontica III. 3ème Symposium International (1985) 128-141, fig. 485-491; V. NAYDENOVA, “The rock shrines in Thrace,” Acta Associationis Internationalis Terra Antiqua Balcanica V (1990) 94-95; F. ISIK, “Zum Ursprung lykischer Felsheiligtümer,” in F. BLAKOLMER, K.R. KRIERER, F. KRINZINGER, A. LANDSKRONDINSTL, H.D. SZEMETHY and K. ZHUBER-OKROG (eds), Fremde Zeiten. Festschrift für Jürgen Borchhardt zum sechzigsten Geburstag am 25. Februar 1996 dargebracht von Kollegen, Schülern und Freunden I (1996) 51-64; V. FOL, Megalithi Thraciae, vol. III (1982); M. VASILEVA, “Further considerations on the cult of Kybele,” AS 51 (2001) 51-63 ; G. NEKHRIZOV, “Cult places of the Thracians in the Eastern Rhodope Mountains (end of the 2nd-1st millennium B.C.),” in J. BOUZEK and L. DOMARADZKA (eds), The Culture of Thracians and their neighbours. Proceedings of the International Symposium in Memory of Prof. Mieczyslaw Domaradzki, with a Round Table “Archaeological Map of Bulgaria” (2005), 153-158; MARANGOU (supra n. 9); E. VIKELA, “Η φρυγική Μητέρα θεά από την Ανατολή στην Ελλάδα. Προσλήψεις και μεταπλάσεις,” AEph 140 (2001) 41-70; L.E. ROLLER, In search of God the Mother. The Cult of Anatolian Cybele (1999) figs 16, 18; I. HASPELS, The Highlands of Phrygia. Sites and Monuments I-II (1971) figs 230-232; more references in C. MARANGOU, “The rock-cut site at the Myrina Kastro: Consideration of symbolic aspects,” in V. MARKOV (ed.), Proceedings of the First International Symposium on Ancient Cultures in South-East Europe and the Eastern Mediterranean, “Megalithic Monuments and Cult Practices” (October 11-14 2012) (2012) 126137. S. OWEN, “The ‘Thracian’ Landscape of Archaic Thasos,” in S. OWEN and L. PRESTON (eds), Inside the City in the Greek World (2009), 85-98. K. LEHMANN, P. WILLIAMS and D. SPITTLE, Samothrace, vol. 5. The Temenos (1982) 295; see also L. BESCHI, “Η ιστορική σημασία του ιερού των Καβείρων στη Λήμνο,” Archaiologia 50 (1994) 31-37. NAYDENOVA (supra n. 25). VASILEVA (supra n. 25); V. YANNOULI, “Les sanctuaires de Cybèle dans la ville de Samos,” in G. LABARR (compil), Les cultes locaux dans les mondes grec et romain. Actes du colloque de Lyon 2001 (2004) 115-128 ; MARANGOU (supra n. 9). ROLLER (supra n. 25); VIKELA (supra n. 25) 43. On Anatolian early cult related to mountains and rocks see V. HAAS, Hethitische Berggötter une Hurritische Steindämonen. Riten, Kulte und Mythen. Eine Einführung in die altkleinasiatischen religiösen Vorstellung (1982). Rock-art in Greece has tentatively been dated, not only from the Iron Age, the so-called Dark Ages of Greece (10th to 8th century BC), but also from the Bronze Age, while Neolithic rock-art is now attested in Greek islands, as in C. TELEVANTOU, “Strofilas, Andros: New perspectives on the Neolithic Aegean,”

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There is indeed evidence about aniconic rock-cut features already in Hittite32 and Urartu33 ritual practices and a long Hittite and Hatti tradition related to mountains and rocks.34 In 2nd millennium Anatolia, there is a huge variety of aniconic images of deities, such as huwasi stelae35, while baetyls (sacred stones, omphaloi), real as well as represented in scenes of human figures embracing a large boulder are attested in the Neopalatial period.36 A Bronze Age, Eastern Mediterranean koiné with sacred stone diachronic cult and rituals performed in open air sanctuaries at remote places has been proposed.37 It has been suggested that the Thracian Great Mother was initially a sacred rock before becoming anthropomorphic 38 and the Phrygian goddess, before acquiring an iconic form, may have received worship on mountain tops, offerings being brought to stepped altars.39 Local names of the Anatolian Mother are characterized by epithets deriving from natural features of the landscape, probably mountains.40 As a matter of fact, according to Anatolian evidence from late prehistory and antiquity, rock cut structures were related to nature divinities. It should not be a surprise that rock outcrops and rock-cut structures could have been suitable places for the abode of the Unearthly, nor that a continuity of cult, or at least of permanency of meaningful places would be recurrent.41 Rock-cut structures may combine steps, niches, cavities and/or rooms or platforms. Outdoor setting, rock outcrops, high locations, flights of steps and a scenery transformed by the carved structures, a large view towards the surrounding landscape are common characteristics, implying open air ceremonies on rocks, often in a rock-cut complex, climbing on steps and along roads winding up the mountains, walking towards a platform or a niche, use of cup-marks, grooves, basins and channels. Monuments are hewn in wild places, on the mountainsides or on hills; difficulty of access is a common characteristic in Phrygia and Thrace. Ascending routes towards the sanctuaries of Cybele were also noted in Samos.42 Eastern rock-carved cultic monuments, besides difficulty of access and high visibility, occur at symbolically charged, culturally significant and/or geographically strategic locations in the landscape.43 There are several “functional” stepped ramps and flights of steps at Kastro, besides the “nonfunctional” ones presented here. However, in addition to everyday practice, trails, paths and roads may indeed serve important functions of performance during processions, rituals and pilgrimage. 44 The symbolic role of trails, paths, and roads has been given significance in recent archaeological

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in S. DIETZ, F. MAVRIDIS, Z. TANKOSIC and T. TAKAOGLU (eds), Communities in transition. The Circum-Aegean Area during the 5th and 4th Millennia BC (2018) 389-396. HAAS (supra n. 30) ; M. POPKO, “Anikonische Götterdarstellungen in der Altanatolishcen Religion,” in J. QUAEGEBEUR (ed.), Ritual and Sacrifice in the Ancient Near East (1993) 319-327. F. ISIK, Die offenen Felsheiligtümer Urartus und ihre Beziehungen zu denen der Hethiter und Phryger (1995); ISIK (supra n. 25). HAAS (supra n. 30). P. TARACHA, Religions of Second Millenium Anatolia (2009) 46, 60, 102, 130. J. YOUNGER, “Tree Tugging and Omphalos Hugging on Minoan Gold Rings,” in A.L. D’AGATA and A. VAN DE MOORTEL (eds), Archaeologies of Cult. Essays on Ritual and Cult in Crete in honor of Geraldine C. Gesell (2009) 43-49. A.M. CARSTENS, “Huwasi rocks, baityloi, and open air sanctuaries in Karia, Kilikia, and Cyprus,” OLBA XVI (2008) 73-93. NAYDENOVA (supra n. 25). S.P. MELLINK, “Temples and High Places in Phrygia,” in Temples and High Places in Biblical Times (1981) 96-104, Pls 10-12, in particular 98; ISIK (supra n. 25) 56. ROLLER (supra n. 25). MARANGOU (supra n. 9). See also above and supra n. 18 (Troy). YANNOULI (supra n. 29). Ö. HARMANSAH, “Introduction: Towards an Archaeology of Place,” in Ö. HARMANSAH (ed.), Of Rocks and Water, Towards an Archaeology of Place (2014) 1-12, in particular 5. L. CLARK ERICKSON, “Agency, Causeways, Canals, and the Landscapes of Everyday Life in the Bolivian Amazon,” in J.E. SNEAD, L. CLARK ERICKSON and J. ANDREW DARLING (eds), Landscapes of Movement. Trails, paths, and Roads in Anthropological Perspective (2009), 204-231, in particular 206.

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interpretations, as they provide structure to ritual and memory; they may constitute mnemonic devices.45 Paths carved on rock could suggest open air cult, as attested in Iron Age and Archaic Greece, with abundant evidence also from the East on high places, hills or mountains, involving processions and other ritual performances.46 At the same time, paths or trails connect different elements, such as sacred stones, places etc., made thus into comprehensible systems by the paths that connect them.47 A particularity of the Kastro rock-cut features and rocks distinguishing them from common Thracian and Anatolian cases is their intricate relation to the sea,48 not simply via trails, ramps and paths. Such a connection appears to be quite convincing concerning structures with a visibility towards the Myrina harbour and a connection to the coast.49 This involves the importance of visibility the other way round, that is, the viewpoint from ships out at sea looking back to the land,50 taking account also of the necessity of coastal landmarks for mariners, if not even of pilotage while entering a “dangerous” harbour.51 Moreover, symbolic components are indeed implied and the transition and liminality factors have to be taken account of. When the structure is not visible from the sea and has no visibility to and from the sea, but still shows an obvious reference to it (shells), credible hypotheses could give prominence to symbolic facets: although the meanings expressed by the graffiti are not (yet) known, the ship images enhance the maritime aspect. On Kastro, symbolic elements are not only of an aniconic rock-cut character, but also include nautical representations and reveal female attributes, the latter attested at least since the Iron Age. Finds such as the figurines’ heads with a polos, enthroned or not, may suggest connections to divine beings, in particular the 7th century local, Tyrrhenian, great goddess Lemnos, homonymous of the island, related to the Thracian Bendis and the Eastern Matar and Cybele, as divinities of nature52 the latter associated especially to rock-cut “facades” or to stepped monuments.53 Some divinities are in fact related to transitions and liminality. Early Hekate, of obscure origin, is associated to boundaries, then to gates, roads, as Enodia, and crossroads, where three roads meet, as Trioditis. She is particularly associated with the passage through liminal points, easing the tensions surrounding the crossing of time or space transitions, including harbours, as liminal points of departures and arrivals, and she is then called Limenitis.54 In this connection, it is of importance that at 7th century BC Hephaistia, in Lemnos, wells and several fountain models indicating a cult of waters were dedicated to a female divinity, probably goddess Lemnos, a deity protecting water.55 Furthermore, divinities in ancient

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J.E. SNEAD, L. CLARK ERICKSON and J. ANDREW DARLING, “Making Human Space: The Archaeology of Trails, Paths, and Roads,” in SNEAD et al. eds (supra n. 44) 1-19, in particular 17. See for example : TARACHA (supra n. 35) 118, 129 ; J. WEILHARTNER, “Textual evidence for Aegean Late Bronze Age ritual processions,” OpAth 6 (2013) 151-173. R.J. PARMENTIER, The Sacred Remains: Myth, History and Polity in Belau (1987), quoted by SNEAD et al. (eds) (supra n. 44) 52-53. In coastal sites monuments may be hewn relatively close to the sea, as in Chios : H. KALETSCH, “Daskalopetra – ein Kybeleheiligtum auf Chios,” in F. KRINZINGER, B. OTTO and E. WALDEPSENNER (eds), Forschungen und Funde. Festschrift Bernhard Neutsch (1980) 223-235, pl. 44-47. MARANGOU (supra n. 10). J. YOUNGER, “A view from the sea,” in G. VAVOURANAKIS (ed.), The seascape in Aegean Prehistory (2011) 161-177. MARANGOU (supra n. 10). BESCHI (supra n. 27). HASPELS (supra n. 25) 73-111. MARANGOU (supra n. 10): 133-134; MARANGOU (supra n. 25) 190-191 and MARANGOU (supra n. 10), with further references, including about Artemis’ relation to headlands, mariners and ports. L. BESCHI, L., “Culto e riserva delle acque nel Santuario arcaico di Efestia,” ASAtene 83.1 (2008), 95218; E. GRECO, “Indigènes et Grecs à Lemnos à la lumière des fouilles d’Hephaestia,” in H. TRÉZINY (ed.), Grecs et indigènes de la Catalogne à la Mer Noire. Actes des rencontres du programme européen Ramses2 (20062008) (2010) 701-708; E. GRECO, “La pubblicazione del santuario arcaico de Efestia: Luigi Beschi e la promessa mantenuta,” in E. GRECO (a cura di), Giornata di studi nel ricordo di Luigi Beschi, Italiano, Filelleno, Studioso Internazionale. Atti della Giornata di Studi, Atene 28 novembre 2015 (2017).

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Anatolian religions are often connected to water sources or watery places.56 Phrygian rock-cut stepped monuments in general, besides being located at or near entrances or along roads, tend to be connected to water sources.57 Interestingly, topographical features connected with water were divinized,58 while the status of water as a passageway, used both by divinities and humans, has been underlined.59 If not a diachronic and transmarine blending of divinities, on Kastro we may have the materialization of many aspects of one goddess: Lemnos, or of some early, anonymous entity. Directions for future research At Kastro, natural rocks and combined artificial carved structures appear to have both symbolic and utilitarian components, purposes and functions and evoke a complex rocky landscape, involving intricate maritime facets and connections, as well as a female bias, located in a transitional place, where sea and land meet, in reality or symbolically. In view of the complexity of the Kastro research, only few of the directions for further investigation of its occupants’ behaviours could be hinted at here. The study of its rock-cut features, rock art and relative mobile finds is still in progress and presumably more unpredictable evidence may occur. In the meantime, considering the present arguments and concluding this outline, it is suggested that current research at Kastro should target, not only material and profane, but also immaterial, symbolic and cognitive aspects of the maritime connections of its rocks. Christina MARANGOU

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Y. ERBIL and A. MOUTON, “Water in Ancient Anatolian Religions: An Archaeological and Philological Inquiry on the Hittite Evidence,” JNES 71 (2012) 53-74. BERNDT-ERSÖZ (supra n. 19). HAWKINS (supra n. 19). ERBIL and MOUTON (supra n. 56) 53, 61, 72.

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Pl. LIVa Pl. LIVb Pl. LVa Pl. LVb

General view of Kastro and the Myrina harbour from the South (2002). Photo: C. Marangou. Rock-cut, stepped structure with niches and façade from the South. Photo: C. Marangou. “Triangle” of vertically fixed stones in front of the flight of steps. Photo: C. Marangou. Carved flight of steps (dead-end) from the East. Photo: C. Marangou.

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LIQUID CONSUMPTION AND THE MECHANICS OF RITUAL IN LATE PREPALATIAL AND OLD PALACE CRETE8 The consumption of liquids, probably wine, has long been established1 as a very important key for the understanding of Bronze Age socio-political interaction on Crete. It was a feature of communal funerary ritual activity outside late Prepalatial tombs, which constituted the main focus of ritual activity on the island at the time. The elites of the subsequent First or Old Palace period also based their power upon their ability to host and socially manipulate events of conspicuous consumption of food and drink, this time within the architectural milieu of the palaces. On the other hand, cemetery sites started losing their importance in this respect and, apart from the palaces, new loci of ritual activity appeared, such as the sacred caves and the peak sanctuaries. The consumption of liquids was important in these contexts too, although its scale did not match the palatial standards. The above changes may be seen as a general shift of focus from funerary to secular ritual, within a process that marked the transformation of Crete from a world of relatively small-sized and, perhaps, kin-based communities to a cluster of regionally integrated palatial societies. This paper further explores the role of wine consumption within the above ritual and socio-political transformation of Crete. It contrasts late Prepalatial to Old Palace ritual settings, such as burial locations, peak sanctuaries and sacred caves, in order to provide a better understanding of the mechanisms that altered the symbolic significance of wine consumption and, subsequently, its contribution to the processes that resulted in the palatial transformation of Crete. The social dimension of wine consumption: past and current research A hallmark in the recognition of the social, economic and political significance of wine has been the publication of Renfrew’s Emergence of Civilisation.2 It then became widely accepted3 that the successful management of agricultural products, including wine, fueled craft economy, consequently gave rise and, then, perpetuated the power and authority of the palaces. A second research milestone has been Hamilakis’s 4 work, which shifted the emphasis from the production, storage and redistribution to the consumption of food and drink and to their material implementation. The latter *

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I am honored to participate in John Younger’s Fetschrift volume. I particularly enjoyed his combination of a strong empirical background with theoretically nuanced approaches to Minoan Crete when he contributed a chapter to the Seascape in Aegean Prehistory volume that I edited in 2011. His human, all too human, attitude to both research and life has become a standard source for inspiration ever since. A very early version of this paper was presented at “Wine Confessions: production, trade and social significance of wine in ancient Greece and Cyprus” an international conference about wine in ancient Greece and Cyprus, which took place in Ikaria, on the 21-24 of September 2007. I am grateful to Evi Margaritis for inviting me to participate in this conference and for having the initial written versions of this paper reviewed and edited. I also wish to thank the co-editors of this volume, Brent Davis and Robert Laffineur, for inviting me to participate in such an exceptional collection of essays in honor of John Younger and for all their work on my contribution. However, all its shortcomings remain my sole responsibility. Indicatively see papers in J.C. WRIGHT (ed.), The Mycenaean Feast (2004); L.A. HITCHCOCK, R. LAFFINEUR and J.L. CROWLEY (eds), DAIS. The Aegean Feast (2008). C. RENFREW, The Emergence of Civilisation (1972). E.g. P. HALSTEAD, “On Redistribution and the Origins of the Minoan-Mycenaean Palatial Economies,” in E.B. FRENCH and K.A. WARDLE (eds), Problems in Greek Prehistory. Papers Presented at the Centenary Conference of the British School of Archaeology at Athens, Manchester, April 1986 (1988) 519-30. Y. HAMILAKIS, “Wine, Oil and the Dialectics of Power in Bronze Age Crete: A Review of the Evidence,” OJA 15.1 (1996) 1-32; ID., “Food Technologies/Technologies of the Body: The Social Context of Wine and Olive Oil Production and Consumption in Bronze Age Crete,” WorldA 31.1 (1999) 38-54.

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have been considered as facilitators of bodily performances aiming at the reproduction and renegotiation of relations of inequality, especially palatial power and authority, during feasting events. 5 Feasting is distinguished from ordinary meals by its extra-ordinary character, which in turn may be achieved through excessive consumption, exceptional paraphernalia (i.e. special tableware), its distinct architectural setting, wide participation, or particular behavior etiquette. As such it constitutes a ritualized practice, hence frequently part of ritual performances, e.g. funerary or religious ceremonies.6 Minoan research on feasting7 has followed at least three different strands. The first strand focuses on feasting as a vehicle for social empowerment and for upholding and re-negotiating social alliances. Indicatively, Borgna8 examined a variety of Minoan feasting contexts, such as Prepalatial burial locations, Old Palace sanctuaries and palaces and New Palace wealthy houses and, again, palaces. She argued that Minoan feasts were mostly popular and open-access events, while their material implementation does not show notable status differences.9 According to Borgna, Minoan conspicuous consumption practices aimed at social cohesion and conviviality, while social distinction was (re-) produced within palatial banqueting contexts only. It follows that elevated social status was conferred by the reproduction of appropriate roles and behaviors, rather than differential access to and display of elaborate material implements. Catapoti10 has further noted that feasting was not an exclusive feature of the palaces. Similar events happened at the rather small Prepalatial settlement of Myrtos-Phournou Koryphi, whose excavation has yielded an exceptional number of serving vessels with pronounced spouts. The mundane character of the pottery assemblage led her to the conclusion that feasting at Myrtos happened in a not so less exceptional manner and thus it revolved around social empowerment. Finally, Hamilakis11 has continued to address the experiential aspect of food and drink consumption and has argued that Prepalatial funerary food and drink consumption allowed an embodied appropriation of the collective ethos. According to him, cemeteries became less popular when the palatial courts proved to be better suited arenas for the ritual commensal practices and their related renegotiation of common values. The second strand of Minoan research underlines the diacritical capacity of feasting 12 . Knappet13 has supported the idea that pottery display and consumption at Malia and Myrtos-Pyrgos was part and parcel with wine consumption related to the creation and maintenance of authority. Macdonald and Knappett14 have noted differences in the quality and quantity of drinking vessels in 5 6

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See papers in WRIGHT ed. (supra n. 1). M. DIETLER and B. HAYDEN, “Digesting the Feast: Good to Eat, Good to Drink, good to Think. An Introduction,” in M. DIETLER and B. HAYDEN (eds), Feasts: Archeological and Ethnographic Perspectives on Food, Politics, and Power (2001) 1-20. Recent review by Y. HAMILAKIS, “Time, Performance, and the Production of a Mnemonic Record: From Feasting to an Archaeology of Eating and Drinking,” in HITCHCOCK, LAFFINEUR and CROWLEY eds (supra n. 1) 3-19. E. BORGNA, “Aegean Feasting: A Minoan Perspective,” in WRIGHT ed. (supra n. 1) 127-159. C. GILLIS, Minoan Conical Cups: Form, Function and Significance (1990); C. KNAPPETT, “Can’t Live without them – Producing and Consuming Minoan Conical Cups,” in P.P. BETANCOURT, V. KARAGEORGHIS, R. LAFFINEUR and W.-D. NIEMEIER (eds), Meletemata. Studies in Aegean Archaeology presented to Malcolm H. Wiener as He enters his 65th Year (1999) 415-420. D. CATAPOTI, “Rise to the Occasion: An Insight into the ‘Politics of Drinking’ at the Prepalatial Settlement of Myrtos-Phournou Koryfi, South Crete,” in E.G. KAPSOMENOS, M. ANDREADAKIVLAZAKI and M. ANDRIANAKIS (eds), Proceedings of the 10th International Cretological Congress (2011) A 197-211. Y. HAMILAKIS, Archaeology and the Senses. Human Experience, Memory, and Affect (2014). M. DIETLER, “Theorizing the Feast. Rituals of Consumption, Commensal Politics, and Power in African Contexts. An Introduction,” in DIETLER and HAYDEN eds (supra n. 6) 76-88. C. KNAPPETT, “Assessing a Polity in Protopalatial Crete: The Malia-Lasithi State,” AJA 103 (1999) 615-639. C.F. MACDONALD and C. KNAPPETT, Knossos. Protopalatial Deposits in Early Magazine A and the South-

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several Old Palace deposits at Knossos, which to their mind reflects a hierarchy of the participants’ status during consumption events. Haggis15 has suggested that diacritical feasting episodes at Petras conferred social status through the proper performance and the display of the right symbolic emblems, such as the fleur-de-lis, semi-swastika and whirling motifs on the Kamares pottery, on the figurines and on the seals deposited at the site of Lakkos in MM IB and before the construction of the palace at the site. Brogan and Koh16 argued for elite ceremonial dining and drinking in buildings B.2 and D.5, the two large Late Minoan I houses at Mochlos, based on the architectural setting, which included a theatral area and an altar, and also on the food and drink implements, namely the large numbers of conical cups and a dozen bronze bowls found in this setting. The third strand of Minoan research on feasting is rather cautious in identifying it, especially in regards to Prepalatial contexts. Before research on the social dimension of food and drink had become popular, Branigan 17 had noted that funerary liquid consumption at the tholos tombs of Mesara involved small numbers of people. La Rosa18 pointed out that the 4:1 ratio between cups and jugs in the tholos annex rooms at Hagia Triada points towards small groups of people. Legarra Herrero19 has brought up the rather generalized employment of the concept of feasting in understanding Prepalatial funerary contexts. Whitelaw 20 has argued against the possibility of conspicuous consumption at Myrtos-Phournou Koryphi, on the basis of cups to jugs ratios, which are similar to the ones at Hagia Triada. These three research strands actually have one point of major divergence, namely whether Prepalatial commensal practices were different from their Old Palace counterparts. The first strand sees them more or less similar to each other, as it prioritizes the experiential aspects of drink consumption and its ability to afford the renegotiation of commonly held values. However, such emphasis upon horizontal social organization usually sidesteps the possible role of food and drink consumption in the establishment of asymmetrical relations between the palatial elites and the rest of the people. By contrast, both the other two research strands see a marked difference between the Prepalatial and the Old Palace period and consider the diacritical character of palatial feasting as founded either upon the exceptionality of its material implementation or on the assumed absence of real feasting events before the emergence of the palaces. This last argument hinges upon the Prepalatial cups to jugs ratio. Nevertheless, the latter is not a sound argumentation basis. Technically, it is impossible to rule out the possibility of hosting feasts for many people by combining the necessary number of small drinking sets, even though the composition of such a feast would be admittedly modular and less coherent than other events. Even so, it is worth noting Branigan’s and Legarra Herrero’s words of caution to avoid the loose employment of the concept of feasting. Towards this aim, a couple of points of convergence between the different Minoan research strands needs to be highlighted. All researchers agree that feasting events were connected to the (re-) production of social power, which may be defined either as the ability of social agents to act or as the creation and exercise of authority. In addition, the character of Minoan feasting hinged upon the ability of people to adhere to the appropriate code of social behavior, which dictated the size of the

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West Houses (2007) 163-165. D.C. HAGGIS, “Stylistic Diversity and Diacritical Feasting at Protopalatial Petras: A Preliminary Analysis of the Lakkos Deposit,” AJA 111 (2007) 715-775. Th.M. BROGAN and A.J. KOH, “Feasting at Mochlos? New Evidence for Wine Production, Storage and Consumption from a Bronze Age Harbor Town on Crete?,” in HITCHCOCK, LAFFINEUR and CROWLEY eds (supra n. 1) 125-131. K. BRANIGAN, Dancing with Death. Life and Death in southern Crete c. 3000-2000 BC (1993) 78. V. LA ROSA, “Minoan Baetyls: Between Funerary Rituals and Epiphanies,” in R. LAFFINEUR and R. HÄGG (eds), POTNIA. Deities and Religion in the Aegean Bronze Age (2001) 221-227. B. LEGARRA HERRERO, Mortuary Behavior and Social Trajectories in Pre- and Protopalatial Crete (2014) 63. T. WHITELAW, “Feasts of Clay? Ceramics and feasting at Early Minoan Myrtos: Fournou Korifi,” in Y. GALANAKIS, T. WILKINSON and J. BENNET (eds), ΑΘΥΡΜΑΤΑ: Critical Essays on the Archaeology of the Eastern Mediterranean in Honour of E. Susan Sherratt (2014) 247-259.

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group of people who consumed liquids together and the correct choice, handling and/or display of the serving and drinking paraphernalia. It is then possible to conclude the above research review by saying that the mechanisms, which allowed the transference of feasting to different contexts and chronological periods, are clear in the case of the palatial or palace-to-be sites. For example, the Lakkos deposit suggests secular ritual gatherings that may have operated as an introduction to palatial feasting. The EM II West Court House assemblage of Knossos,21 with the plethora of drinking and serving vessels may also be a similar introduction to the Knossian feasting. These events suggest the ability of a group to manipulate established practices, performances and codes of behavior to their interest. However, non-elite contexts provide a less clear picture and they have been downplayed by current research. Such nonelite contexts are late Prepalatial tombs and cemeteries and Old Palace cave and peak sanctuaries, all of which gathered wider groups of people. For example and although the conspicuous consumption of liquids in these contexts has long been acknowledged,22 the existing literature leaves several issues open for discussion. First, ritual activities in non-palatial contexts may have included libations instead of the consumption of drink. Most of times, it is impossible to say whether the pottery found in tombs, sanctuaries or caves was used for wine drinking, either proper or token drinking, or just for spilling it. Libations are excluded from current definitions of feasting, 23 because they do not constitute an embodied practice, like drinking.24 This means that feasting is not an adequate concept in order to cover the consumption of liquids in Minoan ritual contexts as a whole, especially as regards non-palatial ritual settings, which should be examined separately. If palatial banquets are taken out of the picture – simply for heuristic purposes as palaces constitute special a type of social arena –, a specific question emerges: how did it become possible for the consumption of liquids to shift from the context of late Prepalatial funerary ritual to the peak sanctuaries and sacred caves of the Old Palace period? The following presentation of material evidence contrasts late Prepalatial and Old Palace contexts in order, on the one hand, to trace possible mechanisms that guided the transference of liquid consumption from one period to the other and from one type of context to another and, on the other hand, to better understand the social role of ritual liquid consumption in Crete, with respect to the emergence of the palatial phenomenon. Late Prepalatial Funerary and Other Ritual Liquid Consumption Late Prepalatial ritual activity concentrated mainly around cemeteries and, secondarily, around a few open-air shrines, which were the predecessors of the later peak sanctuaries (Pl. LVIa)25. The ritual use of caves at the time is doubtful26, with the possible exception of the Idean Cave.27 With 21

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D.E. WILSON, “The Pottery and Architecture of the EM IIA West Court House at Knossos,” BSA 80 (1985) 281-364. BRANIGAN (supra n. 17) 76-78; Y. HAMILAKIS, “Eating the Dead: Mortuary Feasting and the Politics of Memory in the Aegean Bronze Age Societies,” in K. BRANIGAN (ed.), Cemetery and Society in the Aegean Bronze Age (1998) 115-132; D.W. JONES, Peak Sanctuaries and Sacred Caves in Minoan Crete: Comparison of Artifacts (1999) 31; L. TYREE, “Diachronic Changes in Minoan Cave Cult,” in LAFFINEUR and HÄGG eds (supra n. 18) 45. B. HAYDEN, “Fabulous Feasts. A Prolegomenon to the Importance of Feasting,” in DIETLER and HAYDEN eds (supra n. 6) 28. M. DIETLER, “Theorizing the Feast. Rituals of Consumption, Commensal Politics, and Power in African Contexts. An Introduction,” in DIETLER and HAYDEN eds (supra n. 6) 72-76. K. NOWICKI, “Cretan Peak Sanctuaries: Distribution, Topography and Spatial Organization of Ritual,” Archeologia 67 2016-2017 (2018) 8-10. L. TYREE, “Minoan sacred caves: The natural and political landscape,” in Proceedings of the 9th International Cretological Congress (2006) A2, 329-342. Y. SAKELLARAKIS and E. SAKELLARAKI, “Ανασκαφή Ιδαίου Άντρου,” Prakt Β (1983) 484-485; A. VASILAKIS, “Μινωική Κεραμεική από το Ιδαίον Άντρον,” in Proceedings of the 6th International Cretological Congress (1989) 125-134.

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regards to the funerary context, liquid consumption became an important element of ritual throughout the island. The relevant material evidence has been reviewed extensively28 and only a few key-points should be repeated here. The sharp rise in the percentage of serving and consumption vessels in the tholos tombs of Mesara (Pl. LVIb-e)29 is not contradicted by the tombs of East Crete although the picture there is rather fragmentary.30 Ashes, dishes and animal bones in several Mesara assemblages31 suggest that wine consumption was often part of a meal. Phourni also shows a sharp rise in the deposition of serving and drinking vessels, especially mass-produced footed and one-handled semiglobular cups.32 They were found accompanied by miniature vessels, perhaps containing symbolic quantities of food and are interpreted as libation implements. Nonetheless, the possibility may not be excluded that food and drink was also consumed by the participants of the funeral.33 As already mentioned above, it is not possible to ascertain whether the serving and drinking vessels were deposited in fewer episodes that involved a lot of people or in more episodes with fewer participants each. However, their deposition testifies to a wish to preserve the remains of food and drink consumption and create a “mnemonic record.”34 A similar attitude has been argued for the remains of the dead bodies, which were frequently manipulated at a secondary funerary stage and preserved in clay coffins.35 The creation of funerary archives of bones and vessels is in sharp contrast with the lack of large food and drink storage vessels in all Cretan tombs. Admittedly, this may have been an expected practical measure, since food and drink may easily spoil. Nonetheless, it had the inevitable result of mobilizing exceptional quantities of food and drink for immediate consumption, which shaped a specific type of funerary investment and, by extension, of ritual and of social performance. Food and drink may have also been features of open-air shrines.36 Querns and stone tools found at most of these sites have been regarded as evidence of food processing. Pithos fragments may be an indication of some sort of storage strategy and thus constitute a significant difference from the immediate consumption trends of funerary rites. Nevertheless, the assemblages from these sites are few and small, predominantly the results of surface collection, mostly with a rather vague EBA dating. Protopalatial Ritual Consumption The Protopalatial landscape (Pl. LVIIa) was more diverse than during the previous period, since ritual activity is attested at burial locations, palace sanctuaries, town and domestic sanctuaries, peak and other extra-urban sanctuaries and caves. Funerary activity continued at several sites, such as Archanes-Phourni, where libations and the consumption of food and drink were retained as important aspects of funerary ritual, as in the late Prepalatial period. The Mavro Spelio cemetery at Knossos yielded pottery for liquid consumption too.37 The Mesara tholos tombs demonstrate signs of continuity 28

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BRANIGAN (supra n. 17) 76-78; HAMILAKIS (supra n. 22); J.S. SOLES, The Prepalatial Cemeteries at Mochlos and Gournia and the House Tombs of Bronze Age Crete (1992); G. WALBERG, “Early Cretan Tombs: The Pottery,” in R. LAFFINEUR (ed.), THANATOS. Les coutumes funéraires en Égée à l’âge du Bronze (1987) 54-55, 60. HAMILAKIS (supra n. 22) 124-125. G. VAVOURANAKIS, Funerary Landscapes East of Lasithi, Crete, in the Bronze Age (2007) 149-151. K. BRANIGAN, “Ritual Interference with Human Bones in the Mesara Tholoi,” in LAFFINEUR ed. (supra n. 28) 43-51; HAMILAKIS (supra n. 22). Y. SAKELLARAKIS and E. SAPOUNA-SAKELLARAKI, Archanes. Minoan Crete in a New Light (1997) 390-401. SAKELLARAKIS and SAPOUNA-SAKELLARAKI (supra n. 32) cf. 253-255 and 261-263. HAMILAKIS (supra n. 7) 17. G. VAVOURANAKIS and C. BOURBOU, “Breaking up the Past. Patterns of Fragmentation in Early and Middle Bronze Age Tholos Tomb Contexts in Crete,” in K. HARRELL and J. DRIESSEN (eds), Travsma. Contextualising Intentional Destruction of Objects in the Bronze Age Aegean and Cyprus (2015) 183-186. K. BRANIGAN, “Open-air Shrines in Pre-palatial Crete,” in ΛΟΙΒΗ εις μνήμην Ανδρέα Γ. Καλοκαιρινού (1994) 279-290. L. ALBERTI, “Costumi funerari Medio Minoici a Cnosso: la necropoli di Mavro Spileo,” SMEA 43

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also.38 The evidence from Gournia, Palaikastro, Zakros and other east Cretan burial sites suggests an emphasis mainly on liquid consumption (either libations or drinking) and also on food, with jugs, cups, plates and cooking pots.39 At Malia40 the pit tombs and the Charniers have yielded very few artifacts, which do not contradict the overall tendency towards liquid consumption. Chrysolakkos and the Maison des Morts may or may not have been tombs. 41 Both have yielded evidence on liquid consumption and in view of the altar at Chrysolakkos, it is suggested that liquid offerings were more probable than drinking in this context. Town and house sanctuaries42 include the independent MM II sanctuary and possibly the Sanctuary of the Horns at Malia and a building at Koumasa. The MM II Malia and the Koumasa sanctuaries provided evidence for liquid offerings (jar with intentionally broken bottom, cups, libation tables) and storage (pithoi). It is very difficult to ascertain whether the ritual activities in domestic shrines, such as the possible Pillar Crypt in Quartier Theta at Malia, the house of the Monolithic Pillars at Knossos or house Aa at Gournia, included the consumption of food and drink, since it is impossible to differentiate between the domestic and ritual remains of these edifices. The Chamaizi building may also classify as a house with cultic paraphernalia, such as the offering table, the rhyton, the figurines, jugs and stone vases.43 This building differs from the rest of the aforementioned sites because it is not situated in a settlement but lies isolated in the countryside. The Protopalatial period also featured extra-urban cult activity at peak and other upland sanctuaries, such as Anemospelia, and sacred caves. Liquid consumption was an important, albeit not vital, element of ritual at these sites. Serving and consumption vessels, such as cups, bowls, jugs, and other spouted vessels, have been found at several but not all sanctuary sites of the period,44 i.e. Petsofas at Palaikastro, Traostalos, Kalamafki, Vigla, Zou Prinias, Plagia, Etiani Kephala, Maza, Youchtas, Pyrgos Tylissos, Gonies Philiorimos, Atsipades, Spili Vorizi, Vrysinas, Psychro, Skotino, Kamares, the Idaean Cave, Piskokephalo and Archanes-Anemospilia.45 Offering tables found at many of the above extra-urban sanctuaries suggest that liquids were consumed through libations rather than drinking sessions. The relative lack of drinking vessels and the accordingly high number of spouted jars from the Kamares cave46 supports the above hypothesis, which has already been proposed47 with regard to the significant number of cups found at the caves of Psychro, Amnissos and Skoteino.

38 39 40 41

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(2001) 163-187; E.J. FORSDYKE, “The Mavro Spelio Cemetery at Knossos,” BSA 28 (1926-1927) 242296. For a recent review see LEGARRA HERRERO (supra n. 19). VAVOURANAKIS (supra n. 30) 151-152. Review in H. VAN EFFENTERRE, Le palais de Mallia et la cité minoenne (1980). R. TREUIL, “Entre les morts et les vivants à Malia. La “zone des Necropoles” et les Quartiers d’habitation,” in I. BRADFERT-BURDET, B. DETOURNAY and R. LAFFINEUR (eds), ΚΡΗΣ ΤΕΧΝΙΤΗΣ. L’artisan Crétois. Receuil d’articles en l’honneur de Jean-Claude Poursat publié à l’occasion des 40 ans de la découverte du Quartier Mu (2006) 210-219. On town sanctuaries see G. GESELL, Town, Palace and House Cult in Minoan Crete (1985) 9-18. For palace sanctuaries see A. PILALI-PAPASTERIOU, “Ανακτορικά Ιερά της Μινωικής Κρήτης,” in Αμητός: Τιμητικός Τόμος για τον Καθηγητή Μ. Ανδρόνικο (1986) 665-680. C. DAVARAS, “The Oval House at Chamaizi Reconsidered,” AAA 5 (1972) 283-288; S. XANTHOUDIDES, “Εκ Κρήτης. Γ΄. Προϊστορική οικία εις Χαμαίζι Σητείας,” AEph (1906) 117-156. For the artifacts found at all these sites and unless otherwise stated, see JONES (supra n. 22) 77-83 and C. BRIAULT, “Making Mountains out of Molehills in the Bronze Age Aegean: Visibility, Ritual Kits and the Idea of a Peak Sanctuary,” WorldA 39.1 (2007) 122-141132. For caves, see L. TYREE, Cretan Sacred Caves: Archaeological Evidence (1975); EAD., “Defining Bronze Age Ritual Caves in Crete,” in F. MAVRIDIS and J.T. JENSEN (eds), Stable Places and Changing Perceptions. Cave Archaeology in Greece (2013) 176-187. SAKELLARAKIS and SAPOUNA-SAKELLARAKI (supra n. 32) 269-311. For a recent examination of the Kamares cave pottery see A. VAN DE MOORTEL, “The Phaistos palace and the Kamares Cave: a Special Relationship,” in W. GAUSS, M. LINDBLOM, R.A.K. SMITH and J.C. WRIGHT (eds), Our Cups Are Full: Pottery and Society in the Aegean Bronze Age. Papers presented to Jeremy B. Rutter on the occasion of his 65th birthday (2011) 306-318.

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Food was also a frequent but not indispensable part of cult practice. Many peak sanctuaries have yielded pottery related to the preparation and/or consumption of food (cooking pots, braziers, dishes),48 but feasting may have been a feature of the large sanctuary sites, while in other the remains of food and drink activities were found away from the actual cult area and thus the two may not have been connected. Ashes at Yiouchtas,49 Petsofas, Kophinas, Maza, Gonies Philioremos and Traostalos may be related to food preparation, but they may also constitute the remains of ritual bonfires.50 The slipped cooking pots found at Anemospilia may have been used for the preparation of cold meals.51 Several sanctuary sites and caves have produced evidence for storage,52 such as jars and pithos fragments. These finds may imply a practice of flexible storage of goods. Although this may have been a practical solution, and caves in particular provide a suitable environment for the storage of food, such a practice would inevitably result in the first steps towards a religious economy. The carbonized seeds found in some of the storage vessels at Anemospilia and Kamares suggest that this religious economy aimed at food and not liquids. However, the pithoid jars of the Kamares cave are a manageable size for donkey transportation of liquids and, specifically, of wine.53 Hence, the possibility of liquid storage may not be entirely dismissed. Commensality and the Mechanics of Transformation from Late Prepalatial Funerary to Old Palace Religious Ritual The contrast between late Prepalatial and Old Palace food and drink consumption in nonpalatial ritual contexts demonstrates a series of changes in food and drink consumption between the two periods. From almost exclusively restricted in the funerary domain, commensality spread to cult ritual. The mnemonic record of small events of direct consumption gave way to larger events which did not always include commensality but when they did, it was frequently planned in advance. Late Prepalatial food and drink consumption was largely an empowering practice, while the indications of an Old Palace “ritual economy” suggest economic or patron-role commensal events. Haggis has further argued for economic feasting54 at peak sanctuaries and considered the latter as places that organized social solidarity and provided palace elite leaders with regional labor pools.55 A first reading of the changes between the two periods may suggest that they were the result of the establishment of the palaces. Nonetheless, peak sanctuaries were probably a popular phenomenon,56 as much as elite group members may have been able to penetrate them 57 and even if 47 48

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TYREE (supra n. 22) 45. G. WALBERG, “Early Cretan Sanctuaries: The Pottery,” in T. LINDERS and G. NORDQUIST (eds), Gifts to the Gods: Proceedings of the Uppsala Symposium 1985 (1987) 172. A. KARETSOU, “Το Ιερό Κορυφής Γιούχτα,” Prakt (1978) 247. S. CHRYSSOULAKI, “The Traostalos Peak Sanctuary: Aspects of Spatial Organization,” in LAFFINEUR and HÄGG eds (supra n. 18) 60; A.A.D. PEATFIELD, “Rural Ritual in Bronze Age Crete: The Peak Sanctuary at Atsipadhes,” CAJ 2.1 (1992) 66; N. PLATON, “Το Ιερόν Μαζά (Καλού Χωριού Πεδιάδος) και τα Μινωικά Ιερά Κορυφής,” KretChron Ε (1951) 151-152. SAKELLARAKIS and SAPOUNA-SAKELLARAKI (supra n. 32) 276-277. E. KYRIAKIDES, “The Economics of Potnia: Storage in “Temples” of Prehistoric Greece,” in LAFFINEUR and HÄGG eds (supra n. 18) 123-129; NOWICKI (supra n. 25) 27. TYREE (supra n. 22) 45, n. 49 (original observation by A. Van de Moortel). HAGGIS (supra n. 15) 766-767. D.C. HAGGIS, “Staple Finance, Peak Sanctuaries and Economic Complexity in Late Prepalatial Crete,” in A. CHANIOTIS (ed.), From Minoan Farmers to Roman Traders: Sidelights on the Economy of Ancient Crete (1999) 80-81. Recent discussion and detailed references in G. VAVOURANAKIS, “Ritual, Multitude and Social Structure in Minoan Crete,” in G. VAVOURANAKIS, K. KOPANIAS and Chr. KANELLOPOULOS (eds), Popular religion and ritual in Prehistoric and Ancient Greece and the East Mediterranean (2018) 1-10. M. HAYSOM, “Mass and Elite in Minoan Peak Sanctuaries,” in VAVOURANAKIS, KOPANIAS and KANELLOPOULOS eds (supra n. 56) 19-28.

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they comprised an attempt to emulate cultural trends from Knossos, as evidenced in its early sponsoring of the peak sanctuary at Youchtas.58 Thus, ritual practices, including the consumption of liquids, were not a direct reflection of the palatial emergence, but rather a feature of the wider transformation of the Minoan social web at the time. It follows that their understanding requires a bottom-up view of the palatial emergence. Such a view has already been adopted by several researchers. 59 Despite the differences between their arguments, they all agree, either implicitly or explicitly, that the palatial phenomenon was marked by a shift and more specifically a regional integration at the level of the collective ethos that guided social life. The stress on collective values effectively points towards the role of ritual practices, since the latter re-appropriated the former. However, the mechanics of the transformation of ritual practices remain significantly unexplored. For example, Hamilakis60 has explained the loss of popularity of the late Prepalatial cemeteries to palaces and sanctuaries by simply arguing that the latter were seen as bettersuited ritual arenas during the Old Palace period. Anderson61 has interestingly pointed out the ability of itinerant craftsmen to transcend local social boundaries and to bring together different communities, but Todaro62 has demonstrated that the late Prepalatial network of craft activity in the Mesara was ritually appropriated during feasting episodes in the area of the later West court of the palace of Phaistos. Hence and in order to understand the changes in the ritual consumption of liquids, it is important to examine how ritual worked and transformed from the late Prepalatial funerary practices to the Old Palace non-funerary ritual so as to facilitate the emergent palatial transformation. The mechanism of funerary practices may only be examined through the concept of passage rites,63 which attain a dual aim within the funerary milieu. On the one hand, they apportion the dead to the sphere of metaphysical belief. On the other hand, they heal the relations of the community, which has been left a social amputee after the loss of a member. It has been argued64 that Late Prepalatial funerary rites focused on the social rather than the metaphysical passage, as they brought up the concept of the regeneration of life. This concept is often underlined in the course of funerary ritual, as it contrasts the notion of death and works as a metaphor for the regeneration of society. There is a variety of material evidence to support such a proposal. The intensity of late Prepalatial building activity in comparison to early Prepalatial practices, especially the annexes outside tholos tombs and the increasingly house-like tombs of East Crete, masked the actual mortuary content of the tomb, as the spectators found themselves in front of domestic-like buildings, which were complex enough to render the dead less accessible than in the past. The late Prepalatial and Old Palace tomb of Chrysolakkos at Malia, with its too few burials, impressive façades with paved stoas and several offering tables, might have operated more as a memorial monument than simply a burial place. Perhaps the on-going research debate about the function of Chrysolakkos,65 is no more 58

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K. NOWICKI, “Mobility of deities? The territorial and ideological expansion of Knossos during the Proto-Palatial period as evidenced by the peak sanctuaries distribution, development, and decline,” in Proceedings of the 12th International Congress of Cretan Studies (2019) 1-15. Indicatively see Y. HAMILAKIS, “Too Many Chiefs? Factional Competition in Neopalatial Crete,” in J. DRIESSEN, I. SCHOEP and R. LAFFINEUR (eds), Monuments of Minos. Rethinking the Minoan palaces (2002) 179-199; J. DRIESSEN, “Beyond the collective. The Minoan Palace in Action,” in M. RELAKI and Y. PAPADATOS (eds), From the Foundations to the Legacy of Minoan Archaeology. Studies in Honour of Professor Keith Branigan (2018) 291-313; HAMILAKIS (supra n. 11); VAVOURANAKIS (supra n. 56). For example, HAMILAKIS (supra n. 11) S.K. ANDERSON, Seals Craft and Community in Bronze Age Crete (2016). S. TODARO, “Craft Production and Social Practices at Prepalatial Phaistos: The Background to the First ‘Palace’,” in I. SCHOEP, P. TOMKINS and J. DRIESSEN (eds), Back to the Beginning. Reassessing Social and Political Complexity on Crete during the Early and Middle Bronze Age (2012) 195-235. Recent review by P. GARWOOD, “Rites of Passage,” in T. INSOLL (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of the Archaeology of Ritual and Religion (2011) 261-284. VAVOURANAKIS (supra n. 30) 160-163. TREUIL (supra n. 41).

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but the result of an ambiguity already weaved into the original planning, construction, function and character of this building. Other tombs also feature ritual fixtures that do not point towards the mortuary character of these places, such as the kernos at the North Cemetery of Gournia,66 which has many parallels in nonfunerary contexts and probably connoted the fertility of earth and the regeneration of life and society. The rooms with central pillars at Phourni tholos B, Apesokari tholos A, Myrtos Pyrgos and elsewhere may have been pillar crypts, a type of cult room known from the palace sanctuaries.67 A built model of a pair of human feet in the annex entrance of Apesokari tholos A,68 brings to mind the clay feet of the idol in the Anemospilia building,69 and, consequently, religious rather than funerary ritual. The possibility of dancing events at cemeteries70 may have further promoted the loss of the mortuary character of late Prepalatial practices and so did funerary symbolism. Thus, the encapsulation of human remains in clay coffins, such as larnakes and pithoi71 weakened the direct contact of the living with the dead. Furthermore, the use of storage vessels as dead body receptacles reinforced the symbolic link between funerary ritual and the cycle of the earth, whose products these vessels usually contained. Other grave goods also attained symbolic connotations to fertility and through it to the regeneration of life, such as the bull figurines at the cemetery of Mochlos,72 Phourni Burial building 573 and the tombs of Mesara,74 the female figurines pressing their breasts at Mochlos75 and Malia,76 an anthropomorphic rhyton with a vase-shaped spout from the Area of the Rocks at Archanes-Phourni77 and the bowl with the shepherd and its sheep as well as the bowls with birds from Palaikastro.78 In the case of the MM I miniature wine presses79 from the tholos tombs of Apesokari (Pl. LVIIb) and Porti, this symbolic focus on the cycle and the regeneration of life would have attained direct connotations to wine and its production. This in itself would complement the ritual frame of liquid consumption outside these two tombs. It may be argued that the above demonstrated key-role of the notion of the regeneration of life as a metaphor for the regeneration of society was related on the one hand to claims over the land80 and, on the other hand, to a straightforward pursuit of social interests and strategies rather than through indirect references to lineage and ancestry.81 This change was related to the overall social context of the time, which probably revolved around the appropriation of agricultural surplus. This

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72 73 74

75 76 77 78 79

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SOLES (supra n. 28) 221-223. SOLES (supra n. 28) 238-239. A. SCHÖRGENDORFER, “Ein mittelminoisches Tholosgrab bei Apesokari,” in F. MATZ (ed.), Forschungen auf Kreta (1951) 19. SAKELLARAKIS and SAPOUNA-SAKELLARAKI (supra n. 32) 285, 530. BRANIGAN (supra n. 17) 131-136. G. VAVOURANAKIS, “Funerary Pithoi in Bronze Age Crete: Their Introduction and Significance at the Threshold of Minoan Palatial Society,” AJA 118 (2014) 197-222. R.B. SEAGER, Explorations in the Island of Mochlos (1912) 60. SAKELLARAKIS and SAPOUNA-SAKELLARAKI (supra n. 32) 543. K. BRANIGAN, The Tombs of Mesara. A Study of Funerary Architecture and Ritual in Southern Crete, 2800-1700 BC (1970) 81-83. SEAGER (supra n. 71) 64. VAN EFFENTERRE (supra n. 40) 431-432. SAKELLARAKIS and SAPOUNA-SAKELLARAKI (supra n. 32) 539-540 fig. 538. R. BOSANQUET and R. DAWKINS, The Unpublished Objects from the Palaikastro Excavations (1923) 12. K. KOPAKA and L. PLATON, “Ληνοί μινωικοί. Installations minoennes de traitement des produits liquides”, BCH 117 (1993) 64-65. On the link between open-air shrines and land use, see J. BINTLIFF, “Culture, Religion and Economics,” BSA 72 (1977) 80-83; BRANIGAN (supra n. 36) 287-288. G. VAVOURANAKIS, “Time Past and Time Present: The Emergence of the Minoan Palaces as a Transformation of Temporality,” in Z. THEODOROPOULOU and D. EVELY (eds), Aegis. Essays in Mediterranean Archaeology Presented to Matti Egon by the Scholars of the Greek Archaeological Committee UK (2015), 3543.

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may have been the result of increased competition over land products, of the paucity of imports from the Cyclades since the EM IIB, of a series of bad harvests82 and also of emerging processes of regional integration and social competition as seen in the first palace-to-be centers of Knossos,83 Phaistos84 and Malia.85 This competition was at times accompanied by conflict and, consequently, human toll and increased death rates, given the destruction of many sites, e.g. Vasiliki and Myrtos-Phournou Koryphi,86 the lacunae in the settlement pattern of the Mesara,87 the increased emphasis on defensive architecture88 and the temporary inhabitation of upland locations.89 These turbulent and dynamic conditions must have underlined the precariousness of social relations and the aleatory if not frivolous elements of human existence. Such notions would be resonated by the concepts of the regeneration of life, of society and of the relations amongst the living as promoted in the course of funerary activity. It would not be unreasonable to propose that the ritual appropriation of the specific social and historical conditions constituted a rather heavy and complex duty, given that these conditions led to the palatial emergence, namely the most fundamental feature of Minoan Prehistory. Perhaps the price that funerary ritual had to pay in order to fulfil its purpose was no other but the loss of its distinct character. It transformed into a generic type of ritual and paved the way for the appearance of other ritual foci, such as peak sanctuaries and sacred caves. The consumption of liquids and probably wine was not one of the main motors that drove this transformation, since it was not a standard practice in all new sanctuaries, while its character changed dramatically within the palatial milieu. Nevertheless, it was probably one of the catalysts, as the common element of many – albeit not all – cult practices and of Old Palace funerary ceremonies. After all the latter had not been aiming strictly to the appropriation of the dead any more. They had probably become the springboard for yet another ritual commemoration of the contemporary status quo. Conclusions In conclusion, it has been argued that there are important differences in the consumption of liquids at cemeteries tombs and sanctuaries in Crete during the late 3rd and early 2nd millennium respectively. As tombs, sanctuaries and caves were non-palatial contexts, these differences may not be explained as direct effects of the palatial emergence. Their understanding lies in the social dimension of ritual practices themselves. Wine consumption was initially employed to reinforce funerary tradition 82

83

84 85

86

87

88 89

Pollen cores from south-central and from west Crete, such as the disappearance of moisture-loving linder, alder and lime may be indicating both a climate change and the agricultural over-exploitation of the land by the Cretans. See O. RACKHAM and J. MOODY, The Making of the Cretan Landscape (1996) 126. Pollen cores from the Mesara may be suggesting tension over restricted agricultural productivity during the Early Minoan III, which may have been the reason for the abandonment of several Mesara settlements at the time. See L.V. WATROUS, “State formation (Middle Minoan IA,” in L.V. WATROUS, D. HADZIVALLIANOU and H. BLITZER (eds), The Plain of Phaistos. Cycles of Social Complexity in the Mesara Region of Crete (2004), 266-267. Recent review by P. TOMKINS, “Behind the Horizon. Reconsidering the Genesis and Function of the ‘First Palace’ at Knossos (Final Neolithic IV-Middle Minoan IB),” in SCHOEP, TOMKINS and DRIESSEN eds (supra n. 62) 32-80. Recent review by S. TODARO, The Phaistos Hills before the Palace. A Contextual Reappraisal (2014). Reviews by I. SCHOEP, “Social and Political Organisation on Crete in the Proto-Palatial Period,” JMA 15.1 (2002) 101-32; I. SCHOEP, “Looking Beyond the First Palaces: Elites and the Agency of Power in EM III–MM II Crete,” AJA 110 (2006) 39-42. Review by L.V. WATROUS, “Review of Aegean Prehistory III: Crete from the Earliest Prehistory through the Protopalatial Period,” AJA 98 (1994) 717-720. L.V. WATROUS and D. HADZI-VALLIANOU, “Emergence of a Ranked Society (Early Minoan IIIII),” in WATROUS, HADZI-VALLIANOU and BLITZER eds (supra n. 82) 251-252. Review by T. ALUŠÍK, Defensive Architecture of Prehistoric Crete (2007) 149-150, 156. K. NOWICKI, Defensible Sites in Crete c. 1200-800 B.C. (LM IIIB/IIIC through Early Geometric) (2000) 30-33.

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in response to the changing late Prepalatial social context. This resulted in the disintegration of the metaphysical and social aspects of funerary activity, as mortuary rites were separated from commemoration rites and the funerary field started losing its composition. Wine consumption became a generic feature of ritual and this change facilitated the transference of the practice to other types of rituals that served the new social, economic and political order, namely the Old Palace peak and domestic sanctuaries and the sacred caves. The significant degree of continuity regarding the use of cemeteries and also funerary ritual between the late Prepalatial and the Old Palace periods mean that this change was subtle, piecemeal, collective, semi-conscious and – at least partly – unintended. Thus, social groups may have easily been allowed to maintain old traditions and traditional meanings ascribed to ritual practices if they had wished so, without really understanding that they have been actually acting towards the transformation of the very same ritual practices they had been trying to uphold. Giorgos VAVOURANAKIS

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Giorgos VAVOURANAKIS LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Pl. LVIa Pl. LVIb-e Pl. LVIIa Pl. LVIIb

Map of Crete with main late Prepalatial sites mentioned in the text. Late Prepalatial consumption vessels from tholos tomb B at Apesokari. b-d: conical cups, e: bowl. Map of Crete with main Protopalatial sites mentioned in the text. A MM miniature wine press from tholos tomb B at Apesokari.

LVI

a

b

d

c

e




LVII

a

b

THE ADVENTURES OF THE MYCENAEAN PALATIAL MEGARON8 The present contribution intends to honour a major aspect of John Younger’s klewos: his exemplary generosity in academic spirit. The topic chosen for this piece refers to my first encounter with this generosity in early 2005, when John shared without reservations and restrictions a copy of the manuscript of his then forthcoming paper discussing similarities among the plans of the Mycenaean palace complexes.1 In this paper I return to the occasion that urged this first contact with John, the problems surrounding the Mycenaean palatial so-called megaron, a term applied specifically to the monumental examples known from Mycenae, Tiryns and Epano Englianos (hereafter Pylos).2 In doing so, I have consciously decided to offer a study of what appears to be an essentially Helladic topic to a scholar that has described himself as a “die-hard Minoanist”. 3 However, in this further enquiry into the problems surrounding this remarkable architectural form, I hope to make a point that the story of the palatial megaron is not an exclusively Mainland affair. In the first two segments of this paper, an attempt will be made to clarify how the term megaron is (or is not) to be defined, and reflect on its usefulness for our understanding of Aegean prehistory and Aegean prehistorians, before turning our attention to the trajectory of the palatial megaron per se. What’s in a name? “Contemporary scholars need to remain mindful of the assumptions and biases behind elaborate façades, fully articulated ground plans, and the traditional labelling of the canonical palace form.”4 The term ‘megaron’ has been ubiquitous in studies of the architecture of the Greek Mainland during the Bronze Age, where it refers to buildings or rooms, usually (but not always) relatively spacious, usually sharing a rectangular ground plan but differing greatly in many other details. The origins of the application of this term in Aegean prehistory, as is commonly known, lie in Wilhelm Dörpfeld’s objective to identify elements of Homeric architecture in the remains uncovered on the Upper Citadel of Tiryns, enriched with some elements that were largely his own inventions, such as the consistent separation of αἴθουσα and πρόδομος to fit the tripartite division of the Tiryns example, and the exclusive association of *

1

2

3 4

I am grateful to Brent Davis and Robert Laffineur for the initial invitation to honor John Younger’s many and diverse contributions to Aegean Prehistory and for the repeated extensions to the deadline for submitting this paper. For discussions, past and current of some of the issues tackled here, I am in debt to Joseph Maran, Michael Nelson, Tom Palaima, Michael Cosmopoulos, Barbara Montecchi, Reinhard Jung, Kim Shelton, Diamantis Panagiotopoulos, Oliver Dickinson, Daniel Kölligan, Birgitta Eder and Christos Boulotis. Any remaining faults in perspective or judgment are of course my own. J.G. YOUNGER, “Some Similarities in Mycenaean Palace Plans,” in A. DAKOURI-HILD and S. SHERRATT (eds), Autochthon. Papers Presented to O.T.P.K. Dickinson on the Occasion of his Retirement (2005) 185190. First articulated in V. PETRAKIS, “An aspect of the ‘Mycenaean koine’? The uniformity of the Peloponnesian Late Helladic III palatial megara in its heterogeneous context,” in G. DELIGIANNAKIS and Y. GALANAKIS (eds), The Aegean and Its Cultures. Proceedings of the First Oxford-Athens Graduate Student Workshop Organised by the Greek Society and the University of Oxford Taylor Institution, 22-23 April 2005 (2009) 1325. YOUNGER (supra n. 1) 185, n. 1. B.E. BURNS, “Epic Reconstructions: Homeric Palaces and Mycenaean Architecture,” in S.P. MORRIS and R. LAFFINEUR (eds), Epos. Reconsidering Greek Epic and Aegean Bronze Age Archaeology. Proceedings of the 11th International Aegean Conference, Los Angeles, UCLA-The J. Paul Getty Villa, 20-23 April 2006 (2007) 141-149, at 149, italics added.

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the megaron with men and the identification of separate women quarters.5 In Dörpfeld’s interpretation of the evidence, which was sweepingly endorsed by the vast majority of excavators and researchers6, the Homeric term μέγαρον was deemed applicable to the great rectangular hall with a central, fixed, circular hearth inscribed in a square defined by four columns, as in the examples found on the summit of the rocky outcrops that formed the fortified citadels of Tiryns and Mycenae. Such decisions need to be placed in their proper context, of course: the intellectual environment and agenda of late 19th century scholarship, when the search for Homeric correspondences became a major driving force in the formation of the research agenda of Aegean prehistory.7 In any assessment of the appropriateness of the term it is important that we consider the considerable emic evidence for its meaning. It has been widely observed that its literary prototype, the Homeric μέγαρον, is by no means tied to any specific architectural type. As has been noted before,8 the Homeric term describes spaces as diverse in form and function as the residences of the Achaeans in their homelands (Il. 2.137), the dwelling (or part of it) of Achilles in the Achaean camp (Il. 24.647, while apparently the same place is termed κλισίη in 24.448 and 596), the residence of each suitor (Od. 16.390) the residence of Laertes (in the Plural ἐν μεγάροισι: Od. 15.354), the hut of the swineherd Eumaios (Od. 16.165, in the Plural ἐν μεγάροισι: 17.521), or even the cave-dwelling of Calypso (Od. 4.557, 5.14, 17.143; the same place is termed μέγα σπέος ‘great cave’ in Od. 5.57). The association with the adjective μέγας is clearly due to folk-etymology prompted by a mere resemblance, while the etymology of the term μέγαρον itself is at present unknown9. The only consistent feature of the use of the term that might seem to be 5

6

7 8

9

“Das Megaron, der Saal der Männer, liegt mit seinen Vorräumen an der Nordseite gerade in der Axe des Hofes. Zunächst betritt man die schon erwähnte Vorhalle, von zwei Säulen und zwei Parastaden gebildet. Drei nebeneinander liegende zweiflügelige Thüren führen uns in einen geräumigen Vorsaal, und aus diesem gelangen wir weiter durch eine breite Thür in den großen Hauptsaal. Vier Säulen trugen die Decke dieses mächtigen Raumes, der fast 10 m breit und 12 m lang ist. Ein großer Kreis in der Mitte des Saales bezeichnet wahrscheinlich die Stelle des Heerdes [...]. Neben dem großen Hofe der Männerwohnung enthält der Palast noch einen zweiten kleineren Hof mit Säulenhallen und Gemächern, in welchem wir ohne Bedenken die Frauenwohnung erkennen dürfen” (W. DÖRPFELD apud H. SCHLIEMANN, Tiryns. Der prähistorische Palast der Könige von Tiryns [1886] 215-216). On Dörpfeld’s model and its gendered architecture, one should read the late A.A. ZOIS’ ferocious but enjoyable “Σελαμλίκια και Χαλεμλίκια στον Όμηρο; Φιλολογικά Βάσανα της Αιγαιακής Προϊστορίας,” in M. PAIZIAPOSTOLOPOULOU (ed.), Σπονδές στον Όμηρο. Από τα Πρακτικά του Ζ΄ Συνεδρίου για την Οδύσσεια (2-5 Σεπτεμβρίου 1990) (1993) 193-213, as well as comments passim his idiosyncratic but invaluable Κνωσός, Το Εκστατικό Όραμα: Σημειωτική και Ψυχολογία μιας Αρχαιολογικής Περιπέτειας (1996). In Christos TSOUNTAS’ synthesis Μυκῆναι καὶ Μυκηναῖος Πολιτισμός (1893), the application of the Homeric terms is already firmly embedded (“μέγαρον ἀνδρῶν”). The term μέγαρον is already installed in his first preliminary report of his 1886 discoveries at Mycenae. At the beginning of this report, Tsountas expresses his gratitude to Dörpfeld “διὰ τὴν προθυμίαν, μέθ᾿ἦς ἔλυσεν ἀπορίας μου τινὰς σχετικὰς πρός διαφόρους ἀρχιτεκτονικὰς λεπτομερείας” (C. TSOUNTAS, “Ἀνασκαφαὶ Μυκηνῶν τοῦ 1886,” Prakt 1886 [1888] 59, n. 1), therefore explicitly acknowledging the influence of Dörpfeld’s analysis on his own interpretation of the evidence. The plan of the remains atop the citadel that also show the outline of a Greek temple that stood partly atop the megaron complex published in the same 1886 report is explicitly credited to Dörpfeld by TSOUNTAS 1888 (supra). For a recent republication of the plan and thorough discussion see N.L. KLEIN, “Excavation of the Greek Temples at Mycenae by the British School at Athens,” BSA 92 (1997) 247-322, at 251, fig. 2. See the good outline provided by BURNS (supra n. 4). M.O. KNOX, “‘House’ and ‘palace’ in Homer,” JHS 90 (1970) 117-120; S. LAUFFER, “Μέγαρον,” in (n. ed.), Στήλη. Τόμος Εἰς Μνήμην Νικολάου Κοντολέοντος (1980) 208-215. Cf. also the survey of the term by S. ROUGIER-BLANC, Les maisons homériques. Vocabulaire architectural et sémantique du bâti (2005). It is plausible to view the term as of non-Greek origin (cf. R.S.P. BEEKES, Etymological Dictionary of Greek, vol. 1 [2010] 917 lemma μέγαρον 2), although the evidence is not positive. In his work on nonIndoeuropean elements in Greek, Beekes classified further μέγαρον as “undoubtedly a technical loanword” that contained a suffix -αρ- (R.S.P. BEEKES, Pre-Greek. Phonology, Morphology, Lexicon edited by S. NORBRUIS [2014] 125). Although this suffix is apparently shared by a quite heterogeneous

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architecturally significant is that μέγαρον or μέγαρα appear to refer to the interior of dwellings, but this is still done without any reference to elaboration, size or any other specific morphological feature. 10 Broadening our perspective, it is realized that the Homeric language, as a whole, shows no interest in marking any distinction between large and elaborate buildings and less impressive constructions, even less so marking lexically what we might call a ‘palace’ (however difficult this might be to define).11 Technically speaking, the Homeric μέγαρον, with its patent lack of any coherent physical configuration in the poetic text, is practically of no use in describing (let alone interpreting or classifying) actual architectural remains of any period, unless it is used entirely conventionally (see infra). Of course, at this point, it is important to admit the possibility that the poetic Kunstsprache may well have used interchangeably terms that were carefully distinguished in contemporary technical vocabulary. Since no technical, non-literary texts concurrent with Homer have been preserved, it is impossible to confirm this hypothesis in the case of the Homeric μέγαρον and we must be content with the Homeric evidence itself. However, before we turn our attention to the actual architectural remains, one question remains to be asked: Was the term /megaron/ used in the Late Bronze Age and, if so, what did it refer to? This question is urgently posed with the discovery in 2001 of a regular string-nodule found in a LH IIIB2 context at the southwestern slope of the citadel of Midea in the Argolid, NW of the West Gate (MI Wv 6). The text on the different facets of the nodule reads as follows:12

10 11 12

assortment of lexemes, including the Macedonian gloss κάμμαρος ‘crab/ shrimp species’, the more widespread κάνθαρος ‘beetle’, σίφαρος/ σείφαρος/ σίπαρος ‘sail/ curtain’, κιθάρα ‘lyre’ or καθαρός/ κοθαρός/ κόθαρος ‘pure/ clean/ uncontaminated’ and other examples cited by Beekes that might point to the diverse origin (and therefore non-diagnostic character) of the suffix, we should nonetheless note the morphological similarity with ἐσχάρα ‘hearth’. The latest discussion of the etymology is by T.G. PALAIMA, “The Ideology of the Ruler in Mycenaean Prehistory: Twenty Years after the Missing Ruler,” in R.B. KOEHL (ed.), Studies in Aegean Art and Culture. A New York Aegean Bronze Age Colloquium in Memory of Ellen N. Davis (2016) 133-158, at 144-146. For arguments linking μέγαρον to Hebrew meˁārā ‘cave’ proposed by H. LEWY, Die Semitischen Fremdwörter im Griechischen (1895) 93-94, see L.R. PALMER, “Homeric and Indo-european house,” Transactions of the Philological Society 47 (1948) 92-120, at 100 and B.C. DIETRICH, “A religious function of the megaron,” Rivista Storica dell'Antichità 3 (1973) 1-12. For Beekes, the Semitic borrowing explains only the μέγαρα as the sacriricial pits or well-like altars where pigs were thrown during the Thesmophoria (as stated in a much-discussed scholion in Lucian’s Dialogi Meretricii ii.1, where μέγαρα are glossed as χάσματα or ἄδυτα), but these μέγαρα are, in his view, not related to the ‘architectural’ term (but cf. LAUFFER [supra n. 8] 215, where it is concluded that all references to μέγαρα, including the toponym Μέγαρα in west Attica, refer to the same word). The etymological evidence is, unfortunately, inconclusive. For an analysis of the textual sources for μέγαρα as sacrificial pits in the Thesmophoria see N.J. LOWE, “Thesmophoria and Haloa: Myth, Physics and Mysteries,” in S. BLUNDELL and M. WILLIAMSON (eds), The Sacred and the Feminine in Ancient Greece (1998) 149-173, at 151-152, 157-158 and K.R.L. McLARDY, “The Megara of the Thesmophoria: Reconciling the Textual and Archaeological Records,” Chronika 5 (2015) 1-8. Modern Greek μαγαρίζω ‘to soil/ pollute/ contaminate’ is sometimes postulated as deriving from a negative assessment of the derivative verb μεγαρίζω (‘to perform the megara-related ritual’), although that would presuppose an anti-Pagan attitude directed specifically at the megara that I know no other evidence for. It is rather more likely that μαγαρίζω is derived from Medieval Greek μαγαρίτης or μωαγαρίτης (the derogatory Byzantine adaptation of Arab muhādžir, the name of early followers of the Prophet, re-interpreted as contaminators of faith), for which see H. KAHANE and R. KAHANE, “Die Magariten,” Zeitschrift für Romanische Philologie 76 (1960) 185204; also H. KAHANE, R. KAHANE and R. ASH, “Linguistic evidence in historical reconstruction,” in I. RAUCH and G.F. KARR (eds), Linguistic Method. Essays in Honor of Herbert Penzl (1979) 67-121, at. 113. LAUFFER (supra n. 8). See infra on the identification of ‘palatial’ sites. K. DEMAKOPOULOU, N. DIVARI-VALAKOU, A.-L. SCHALLIN, G. EKROTH, A. LINDBLOM, M. NILSSON and L. SJÖGREN, “Excavations in Midea 2000 and 2001,” OpAth 27 (2002) 27-58, at 5254. The transcription follows the preliminary report and all presentations of the text ever since, although the division of facet .β into two registers by a horizontal line can be debatable. The lower register (.β2) is

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MI Wv 6 .α .β1 .β2 .γ

o-pa supra sigillum me-ka-ro-de vacat a3-so-ni-jo

Although the elliptical nature of most Linear B records makes a reconstruction of the syntax very difficult, the overall message is clear in its basic outline: a certain commodity, accompanied by the nodule but apparently omitted in the text, was delivered within the framework of o-pa, by an individual named Aisonios, and directed towards *me-ka-ro. This last information is the least contestable: the term me-ka-ro-de bears the enclitic allative -de and it certainly indicates the direction of movement: /Megaronde/ ‘to the Megaron’. Already in their preliminary report of the find, the excavators soberly refer to the many possibilities of interpretation: “/Megaron/ was the Mycenaean name for the Midea site or it could mean the Manor of the Landlord of Midea or even the Palace of Midea. A reference, however, to another placename or a palace distinct from Midea is also possible”.13 Recently, Barbara Montecchi has entertained the possibility that *me-ka-ro may indeed be a reference to the palace of Mycenae or Tiryns as a physical architectural form.14 However, on the strength of the occurrence of te-qa-de /Thēgwansde/ ‘towards Thebes’ on Theban nodules (TH Wu 51.β; 65.β; 96.β; the possible reconstruction of [●-●]-de on TH Wu 90.β as [te-qa]-de) – and considering that these constitute no less than three or four out of five allative types extant in these nodules15 ‒ it could indeed be argued that /Megaron/ or some related form was the Late Bronze Age name of Midea,16 a hardly surprising conclusion, given the prominent place-name Megara in western Attica, a toponym that may well be the Plural form of μέγαρον.17 Such an interpretation would fit the role of such regular string-nodules as produced in the periphery of the centripetal system of information flow

13

14

15

16

17

too small to have been intended to receive an additional sign-group and, unsurprisingly, is left blank. Facet .β seems to have always been intended to carry a single sign-group, me-ka-ro-de, with the ruling line providing help in alignment or being a habitual lapsus. DEMAKOPOULOU et al. (supra n. 12) 54. Cf. also K. DEMAKOPOULOU, “The Role of Midea in the Network of Mycenaean citadels in the Argolid,” in E. ALRAM-STERN and G. NIGHTINGALE (eds), Keimelion. Elitenbildung und Elitärer Konsum von der Mykenischen Palastzeit bis zur Homerischen Epoche. Akten des internationalen Kongresses vom 3. bis 5. Februar 2005 in Salzburg (2007) 65-80, at 70. B. MONTECCHI, Luoghi per Lavorare, Pregare, Morire. Edifici e Maestranze Edili negli Interessi delle Élites Micenee (2013) 34, 37: “E possibile che, nel XIII sec. a.C., quando c’erano il Palazzo del wanax, centro fisico dell’organizzazione economica, politica e religiosa dello Stato, e i santuari ad esso esterni, il termine me-karo indicasse proprio l’edificio palaziale. [...] Dato che nessun edificio portato in luce a Midea puo essere agevolmente riconosciuto come megaron, l’espressione me-ka-ro-de potrebbe essere intesa come invio di merci da Midea al palazzo di Tirinto o, piu probabilmente, a quello di Micene.” It is interesting that *meka-ro is not associated by Montecchi with the so-called ‘megaron’ from Midea, for which see G. WALBERG, “The Midea Megaron and Changes in Mycenaean Ideology,” Aegean Archaeology 2 (1995) 8791; “The Megaron Complex on the Lower Terraces at Midea,” in P.P. BETANCOURT, V. KARAGEORGHIS, R. LAFFINEUR and W.-D. NIEMEIER (eds), Meletemata. Studies in Aegean Archaeology Presented to Malcolm H. Wiener as he Enters his 65thYear (1999) 887-892; Midea. The Megaron Complex and Shrine Area. Excavations on the Lower Terraces 1994-1997 (2007). C. PITEROS, J.-P. OLIVIER and J.L. MELENA, “Les inscriptions en Linéaire B des nodules de Thèbes (1982): La fouille, les documents, les possibilités d’interprétation,” BCH 114 (1990) 103-181, at 153-155. The remaining allative type in these documents is a2-pa-a2-de which may be interpreted as /Haphaihande/ or /Haphaihasde/ on TH Wu 94.β. Tempting as this might be, however, this need not be a reference to a location on the island of Aegina in the Saronic gulf, as it cannot be excluded that * a2pa-a2 might have been located in the environs of Thebes. A similar point was independently made by D. PANAGIOTOPOULOS, Mykenische Siegelpraxis. Funktion, Kontext und administrative Verwendung mykenischer Tonplomben aus dem griechischen Festland und Kreta (2014) 171172. LAUFFER (supra n. 8); see supra n. 9 for more references on the etymology of μέγαρον.

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within Mycenaean palace administrations (although not necessarily in the periphery of the polity), and made to record incoming information that would (at least in some cases) be further processed and transferred onto tablets. This is still hypothetical, but at least it appears to be grounded on a patch of evidence, instead of further conjecture. While the inference from such an analogical observation ent may or may not weigh heavily, one should accept that it is extremely difficult, even with the inappropriate allowance of projecting Homer onto the reference of the Midea nodule, to support ‒ without great leaps of faith ‒ the idea that Late Bronze Age Greek me-ka-ro /megaron/ could refer to any specific kind of building, let alone the monumental rectangular halls with central hearths that Dörpfeld first identified as megara. The megaron in architectural typologies It is often remarked that the various buildings identified at various times as ‘megara’ represent a diverse assortment of spatial configurations, including both rectangular and apsidal ground-plans, ranging in date from the Neolithic to the Early Iron Age (or occasionally later), and represent a variety of functions, chiefly that of a dwelling of elite members, but also quite specialized (amongst which the conduction of ceremonies sensu lato, often rather assumed than specifically argued, is the most common), spanning diverse regional and cultural contexts on both sides of the Aegean. The application of the term as it were has notoriously been too vague and generic to be useful to scholarship. Most importantly, however, one cannot perpetuate its use without circular arguments. In an attempt to provide justification (through systematization and rationalization) to the use of the term megaron, Kjell Werner deals with the problem as if it were purely a matter of achieving a good definition of some established fact. He draws on what is cited as a rather objective definition from the Atlas zur Baukunst by Werner Müller where the megaron is defined as a building “of elementary simplicity [...] rectangular, with the two longer side walls in principle closed, subdivided into one larger and one or two smaller rooms. The front usually opens in a porch, formed by projections of the long walls and with some sort of support of the roof (usually two columns) in front of it. The megaron is shaped as a clear-cut “directional building”. The rooms are all situated in a row with their entrances on the central axis [...] The proportion of short to long side can vary between 1/2 and approx. 1/3. Variations with apsidal back exist [...] The shape of the megaron is closed in itself, immobile, static. An enlargement of the building and the number of its rooms, without simultaneously spoiling the form, is possible only by erecting other megara or by incorporating it in another group of buildings which leaves the megaron itself intact”18 However, Werner Müller here has arrived at no independent definition of a megaron. The features cited are an assemblage of the features of the buildings that archaeologists have described as megara on various occasions, and one can specifically trace some of these features, most notably the porch with two columns (cited as “usual”, but is, with very few exceptions, limited to the three palatial megara, see infra), specifically to the Mycenaean palatial examples. 19 Such a definition might be useful for a proper understanding of the range of architectural forms thus labelled (which might have been Müller’s original intention in the first place), but it is still a purely etic construction: it describes how archaeologists and historians of architecture have used the term, but it says nothing about whether such a use was justified in the first place. The apparent vagueness and unhelpfulness of the term have most eloquently been phrased in the past by Pascal Darcque, who proposed that the term should be altogether abandoned in studies of Bronze

18

19

K. WERNER, The Megaron During the Aegean and Anatolian Bronze Age. A Study of Occurrence, Shape, Architectural Adaptation and Function (1993) 4-5, translating passages from W. MÜLLER and G. VOGEL, Atlas zur Baukunst (1974) 135. Furthermore, Müller elsewhere defines megaron not as an entire building, but as a single room with the hearth, as the term is briefly explained in the glossary of the same Atlas simply as “Hauptraum mit Herd; frühe Form des Hallenhauses” (MÜLLER and VOGEL [supra n. 18] 9). The two-column porch is rarely found outside palatial sites. Some exceptions are Postpalatial in date, as in Ayios Kosmas (WERNER [supra n. 18] 83, figs 56a-b with references).

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Age architecture and replaced by more specific architectural typologies.20 The restriction and expansion of the label ‘megaron’ becomes a matter of taste for each scholar. His plea, however, although commonly noted, has not been effective and the term megaron has lived on, either directly or in derivative forms that are fraught with the same problems, such as ‘megaroid’ or ‘megaron-like’. Implicit or explicit in many such formulations is the idea that there can be discernible degrees of similarity to a certain type-example, often referred as an ‘ideal’ or ‘canonical’ megaron.21 In almost all cases where this can be discerned, the ‘canonical’ type refers to the form exemplified by the palatial megara of Tiryns, Mycenae and Pylos, as appears to be clear from references in major syntheses and textbooks. Still, it is not clear that all authors use this ‘canonical’ term with its proper meaning ‘pertaining to a specific canon’, as a set of pre-decided proportions or other elements of arrangement, with implicit or explicit reference to the Mycenaean palatial megaron as a prototype 22 . In certain cases, it appears that ‘canonical’ has temporal (even chronological) connotations, meaning ‘fully formed’, referring to the culmination within an assumed ‒ rather than argued ‒ line of development through time.23 All these ideas presuppose that these buildings reflected specific conceptions of space that formed a diachronic conceptual entity, often referred to as a ‘tradition’ of the megaron. The idea that there is such a meaningful entity as a “megaron plan”, a general idea of organizing built space by a succession of two or three areas organized along an “axial arrangement” has been particularly pervasive in Aegean prehistory, at least since the beginning of the 20th century: the discoveries at the major Cretan sites brought the evidence unearthed there into direct contrast with architectural developments on the Greek Mainland.24 Discoveries in Anatolia and the Balkan peninsula soon amplified the conception of a tradition stretching over millennia and spanning the entire Aegean, with Crete as the seeming exception where such simple ‘megaroid’ structures did not apparently occur before LM III. In one of the most recent expressions of this idea, the megaron plan is traced from Late Neolithic to Classical times and observed through examples from Dimini, Eutresis (House A), the palatial megaron at Pylos and the σηκός a 5th century B.C. Greek temple.25 The question penetrating such an assortment of 20

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P. DARCQUE, “Pour l’abandon du terme «mégaron»,” in P. DARCQUE and R. TREUIL (eds), L' habitat égéen préhistorique (1990) 21-31; Darcque has updated his arguments in L’habitat mycénien : formes et fonctions de l’espace bâti en Grèce continentale à la fin du IIe lmillénaire avant J.-C. (2005) 318-319. As explicitly stated by WERNER, “[t]erms including the word “megaron” or “megaroid” can describe to what degree the plan of a building is related to the canonical megaron” (supra n. 18, 127). The emphasis on proportions is clear, for instance, in D. PREZIOSI, Minoan Architectural Design (1983) 176, where House He at Gournia (used in LM IIIA-B) is described: “Its principal focus is cells 31 and 32, a megaron of a canonical type, with an inner hall twice as deep as an outer porch. The porch communicates directly to the outside to the south, across a threshold not extant over the remaining foundation walls. It also gives access laterally to a long north-south corridor lying to the east of the megaron system (cell 33), off which are laterally appended four small cells (34, 35, 36, and 37)” (italics added). The same building is later termed, in comparison to the Plati complex as “a more canonically ‘Mycenaean’ hall-and-porch megaron” (op.cit. 178). In his further discussion of Aegean “megaroid” structures, Preziosi specifically refers to the “canonical proportions” and “hall-and-porch” arrangement of the Troy II “megaroid” buildings and comments on the “rather uncanonical megaroid hall system (at least with respect to its proportional allotment of spaces)” of the Phylakopi “megaron” (op.cit. 181, 183), while he suggests, on the basis of similarities in planning and proportions, “that the same craftsmen ‒or at least craftsmen working from the same pattern-book‒ were involved in the construction of Tiryns and Gournia He” (op.cit. 186). E.g. C.W. SHELMERDINE, “Review of Aegean Prehistory VI: The Palatial Bronze Age of the Southern and Central Greek Mainland,” AJA 101 (1997) 537-585, at 558, 559; P.P. BETANCOURT, Introduction to Aegean Art (2007) 168; H. WHITTAKER, Religion and Society in Middle Bronze Age Greece (2014) 186. See, for instance, the space devoted by D. MACKENZIE (“Cretan Palaces and the Aegean Civilization [part I],” BSA 11 (1904-1905) 181-223) in rejecting Dörpfeld’s attempt to identify a Cretan variant of the megaron at Knossos and Phaistos. Cf. also the approach of F. ÖLMANN, “Ein achäisches Herrenhaus auf Kreta,” JdI 27 (1912) 38-51, who recognized ‘Achaean’ (= Greek Mainland) features in Gournia Building He and compares it with the then known megara of Phylakopi and Tiryns. BETANCOURT (supra n. 23) 180-181, fig. 8.30.

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rejecting a term with a misleadingly Homeric scent; as in the case of the rose in the familiar Shakespearean quote (Romeo and Juliet, Act II, Scene II), any name would do, as long as its conventional nature is fully realized. But we should be concerned about single-minded approaches to the evidence that lead to the disproportionate focus of one specific aspect of our ever-complex material at the obvious expense of others: in the case of the megaron, the identification of a surprisingly simple ground-plan and its presumed variations have been a sufficient criterion for identifying a millennia-long inter-regional architectural tradition. In this paper, an admittedly arbitrary decision is made to restrict the term megaron as an exclusive reference to the one grouping of buildings within this inappropriately broad category of ‘megaroid’ buildings, the only grouping that seems to reflect, to quote Darcque, “une réalité archéologique incontestable”.29 This is the case of the exceptionally uniform palatial megara identified at Tiryns, Mycenae and Pylos, stretched over a considerably limited chronological and geographical span (Pl. LIX) and exemplifying well an unprecedented convergence among the three most intensely explored and widely exposed palatial centres of the Greek Mainland during the 14th and 13th centuries B.C.30 It might be better if we hereafter refrain from using the term megaron for any other structure.31 With and without it? ‘Palaces’, ‘polities’ and palatial megara It is important now to confront the megaron as a major criterion in the architectural identification of a ‘Mycenaean’ ‘palatial’ site. Let us first comment on what makes a site ‘palatial’, by the rather banal note that the term ‘palace’ has long been used in two overlapping senses amongst Aegean prehistorians: on the one hand, the ‘palace’ is an architectural complex that various scholars would anticipate as being the most elaborate within a sizeable region, with its elaboration being expressed in terms of the relative size of the complex and its associated settlement (which would occupy the top niche within the regional site hierarchy); on the other hand, the ‘palace’ is the institution that is expected to be based within such an architectural complex, an institution that, at least since the discovery of literate administrations on both Crete and the Greek Mainland, is justifiably linked with exercising control over (select, it would seem) segments of the economic activity of the region. Both the architectural and the institutional definitions of what a ‘palace’ is expected to be meet in the common ground of the prime political status of the elite groups that dominate the central site, apparently utilizing the monumental architectural complex as their abode and residence, and the core of their political activity. This is an attempt to define the ‘palace’ from our own, etic, perspective. Even amongst our legible Linear B documentation, we have no extant lexical item that would render what we call a ‘palace’.32 Still, it is apparent that, at least during the so-called

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ESF Exploratory Workshop held in Sèvres, 16-19 September 2010 [= Pasiphae 11] (2017) 151-173, at 170-173. DARCQUE 2005 (supra n. 20) 31. PETRAKIS (supra n. 2). The term ‘palatial megaron’ is synonymous with the terms ‘Palace Megaron’ or ‘Great Megaron’ occasionally used with reference to the structures at Mycenae and Tiryns respectively. while the appellations ‘Great/ Großes’ and ‘Little/ Kleines’, have helped to differentiate between the palatial megaron at Tiryns and a smaller rectangular structure there (see further below). The restriction of the term has already been proposed by SHELMERDINE (supra n. 23, 558), although this has been tied to the architectural definition of a palace (see infra). Of course, appellations such as that of the Mycenae Cult Centre Megaron, as well as the use of the term as part of the conventional appellation of any specific structure (e.g. the Eleusis Megaron B, or the Megaron A at Thermon) cause no confusion at all. wa-na-ka-te-ro (occasionally abbreviated as wa) rendering /wanakteros/, is an adjective that modifies personnel and items as closely (and perhaps exclusively) linked to the activities and interests of the wanaks himself. The term never refers to the ‘palace’ in either an architectural or institutional sense. ‘Palace’ and its cognates in most European languages (e.g. palais, Palast, palazzo, palacio etc.), as well as Medieval Greek Παλάτιον/ modern Greek παλάτι, are all adaptations of Latin Palatium, the residence of Augustus on the Palatine Hill in Rome. The technical term for ancient (including Bronze Age) ‘palaces’ in the modern Greek scholarly language is ἀνάκτορο(ν)/ ανάκτορο, entered through katharevousa in competition to (and replacement of) the more Demotic παλάτι.

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chronologically, regionally and functionally disparate examples is whether such an apparently elementary spatial syntax that imposes such a simple linear movement through two or three axially arranged rooms could not have been invented independently at different times and regions. The rudimentary features of the megaron, as applied to this material, appear too banal to defy their overall interpretation as independent inventions. In focusing entirely on the ‘conception’ of such a rudimentary spatial syntax, archaeologists have paid less or no attention to construction techniques, monumentalization and elaboration (or its lack thereof), and the broader context where these forms are placed, in many cases featuring strongly regional traits in many other aspects of material culture. These are all sacrificed in the sake of charting the temporal and spatial distribution of an outstandingly simple ground-plan. Such a precedence of the plan in the evaluation of the evidence may perhaps be considered symptomatic of the focus of the archaeologists on two-dimensional ground-plans, their very own windows into the study of ancient architecture. Once more, the etic perspective took over. If we pause to reflect on the range and scope of perhaps the most comprehensive recent survey of such buildings, that authored by Kjell Werner, we should be impressed by its seer contextual diversity. We should pause to consider which context of shared cultural features would otherwise provide sufficient evidence that would substantiate a shared architectural tradition that would cover an area from Sitagroi to south Peloponnese (eventually reaching Crete as well) and from the Ionian Islands to West Anatolia, spanning almost two millennia. Furthermore, the assumption of such a fragile and questionable ‘tradition’ of megara or ‘megaroid’ structures would lend support to unwarranted diffusionist models, that would lead to (or would be fed by) pseudo-ethnic interpretations. At least in the latter case, the fallacy of pseudoethnic analogies involved in the identification and interpretation of megara or ‘megaroid’ structures has been adequately exposed.26 Despite Darcque’s sound protests, a proper replacement of the term megaron has been hard to establish. Although himself has proposed to term the palatial megaron complex as a “unité principale”27 it is clear that, without a firm consensus, the multitude of substitutes to follow would perhaps generate confusion and ‘noise’ of the same scale as the application of the Homeric term itself. Still, we may hope to temper the semantic conflation of the term and make the best out of its very perpetuation, by stretching the need for conscience on its original Homeric use, and by providing certain strict limitations as to how the term may be used. Increasing awareness of the early history of our discipline has brought us to a point where the use of a Homeric term might be used as a mere convention, openly and unreservedly admitted as a romantic heirloom from an era where such literary outlooks frequented readings of the evidence, and, hopefully, without illusions as to its historical significance.28 Our concern should be not so much in 26

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R. JUNG, “Das Megaron: ein Analogie(kurz)schluss der Ägäischen Archäologie,” in A. GRAMSCH (ed.) Vergleichen als archäologische Methode. Analogien in den Archäologien (2000) 71-95, commenting particularly on the work of Dörpfeld, Rodenwaldt, Matz and Schachermeyr. The dangers of such unwarranted links between the hopelessly anachronistic projections of current perceptions of ‘ethnicity’ and ‘race’ and aspects of material culture or language lurk even in cautious phrasings, such as that chosen by PREZIOSI (supra n. 22) 193, endnote 34: “the Aegean megaroid compound is a highly conservative formation, having been replicated in essentially the same manner for about a millennium. Whether all these megaroid compounds were in fact built by the ‘same’ ethnic population, speaking the ‘same’ language is quite another matter. I personally suspect that this was the case, although the evidence is far from unambiguous.” At the end, the ethnic-linguistic question is left still on the table. DARCQUE 2005 (supra n. 20) 378-380. That is, in awareness of the properties of analogical thinking that is, of course, to some extent inherent in all archaeological interpretation, as specifically deployed in readings of Aegean prehistory. See the recent thoughtful discussions by J. BENNET, “On Comparison in Linear B: Genetic, Historical, or Analogical?,” in M.-L. NOSCH and H. LANDENIUS-ENEGREN (eds), Aegean Scripts. Proceedings of the 14th International Colloquium on Mycenaean Studies, Copenhagen, 2-5 September 2015 (2017) 461-473; cf. also his “Palaces and Their Regions. Geographical Analysis of Territorial Exploitation in Late Bronze Age Crete and Greece;” in P. CARLIER, F. JOANNÈS, F. ROUGEMONT and J. ZURBACH (eds), Palatial Economy in the Ancient Near East and in the Aegean. First Steps towards a Comprehensive Study and Analysis. Acts of the

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‘Third Palace period’ (LM II/ LH IIB - LM/LH IIIB phases), what we have come to recognize as a ‘palace’, whatever its significance to contemporaries, must have formed a distinct emic category as well, both in the world-view and the thought patterns of south Aegean communities at the time, but one whose verbal reflection remains unknown or elusive. In order to arrive at a proper identification of such sites, Pascal Darcque and Françoise Rougemont have proposed to look at the distribution of administrative inscribed documents (taking into account the main document categories, namely tablets and nodules), a selection of architectural features (see below), as well as ivory working 33 (Pl. LVIII). Their discussion is admirably open and thorough, and most importantly successfully resists the temptation to make special allowances due to the mythological status of a site. Still, a crucial problem remains to be addressed openly: are all of their criteria of equal weight? This question is particularly pressing with regard to possible contradictions between the distribution of architectural and epigraphic evidence, as well as the often powerful assumption, influenced by the application of Thiessen polygons and the notion of the ‘Early State Module’ in approaches of ancient political geography and evolution,34 that each palace site had a ‘political catchment’ area within which monumentalization and administrative literacy would have been monopolized. In an interesting paper that surveyed the distribution of Mycenaean administrative documents, Jan Driessen discussed openly the issue of decentralization of administrative book-keeping, discussing the distribution of Linear B documents outside any ‘central archives’ (hitherto only identifiable with certainty in Rooms 7 and 8 of the Main Building at Pylos) in three different spatial levels, in zoom-out order (i) within the same architectural complex, (ii) within the same site, and (iii) within the same presumed polity. 35 It is obvious that decentralized distribution of levels (ii) and (iii) can be subject to quite different interpretations, as either evidence for palatial annexation or political independence, with the working hypotheses chasing their tails in vicious circles, amidst a mist of floating questions regarding the very existence and proper identification of polity boundaries.36 This image is not intended to cause despair; it merely draws attention to the need to disentangle methodically and examine critically every single assumption we make and every single argument step we take. Let us focus on what Pascal Darcque has termed the “palatial architectural package”37 where the “typical architectural unit commonly called megaron” is included38 amongst other features including the

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P. DARCQUE and F. ROUGEMONT, “Palaces and ‘palaces’: Mycenaean texts and contexts in the Argolid and neighbouring regionsn” in A.-L. SCHALLIN and I. TOURNAVITOU (eds), Mycenaeans Up To Date. The Archaeology of the North-Eastern Peloponnese - Current Concepts and New Directions (2015) 557-573. Cf. also C.W. SHELMERDINE and J. BENNET, “Economy and administration,” in C.W. SHELMERDINE (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to the Aegean Bronze Age (2008) 289-309, at 290. C. RENFREW, “Trade as Action at a Distance: Questions of Integration and Communication,” in J.A. SABLOFF and C.C. LAMBERG-KARLOVSKY (eds), Ancient Civilization and Trade (1975) 3-59; ID., “Polity and Power: Interaction, Intensification and Exploitation,” in C. RENFREW and M. WAGSTAFF (eds), An Island Polity. The Archaeology of Exploitation in Melos (1982) 264-290; also papers by C. RENFREW and J. CHERRY in their co-edited Peer Polity Interaction and Socio-Political Change (1986). J. DRIESSEN, “Architectural context, administration and political architecture in Mycenaean Greece,” in E. DE MIRO, L. GODART and A. SACCONI (eds), Atti e Memorie del Secondo Congresso Internazionale di Micenologia, Roma-Napoli, 14-20 ottobre 1991 (1996) 1013-1028, at 1025-1028. For a recent comprehensive survey of the problems surrounding the identification of polities, focusing on Minoan Crete, see T. WHITELAW, “Recognising polities in prehistoric Crete,” in M. RELAKI and Y. PAPADATOS (eds), From the Foundations to the Legacy of Minoan Archaeology. Studies in honour of Professor Keith Branigan (2018) 210-255. DARCQUE and ROUGEMONT (supra n. 33) 561 (italics added). Cf. also DARCQUE 2005 (supra n. 20) 336-339. Cf. SHELMERDINE (supra n. 23) 558: “The strict architectural definition of a Mycenaean palace is a large ashlar construction centered on a megaron unit: a rectangular room with four columns surrounding a hearth, its long walls extending to form a porch and a vestibule.” Shelmerdine explicitly acknowledges the complications of a rather loose application of the term megaron (op.cit. 558, n. 121). Cf. also her discussion of the same topics at “A comparative look at Mycenaean administration(s),” in S. DEGER-

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exceptional dimensions of one specific building or complex that would enable it to stand out within the site, the occurrence of monolithic thresholds and cut masonry, the existence of an upper storey and the occurrence of wall-paintings with figural representations.39 In their joint paper, the authors focus on the distribution of wall-paintings, a choice justified because “[t]heir distribution more or less coincides with the other characteristics of architectural sophistication mentioned above”,40 a surprising statement which is not true. The distribution of wall-paintings is, at present, considerably broader than that of megara and not very closely correlated to that of the size of buildings or the occurrence of monolithic thresholds, as Darcque’s earlier survey has noted.41 At the end, Darcque and Rougemont’s approach does not escape Pylocentrism, the shadow of the Pylian paradigm as, to quote Michael Nelson’s careful expression, “the best preserved such edifice of its kind”.42 In essence, within the entire Greek Mainland of the Third Palace period, this constellation of criteria are only fulfilled by the Pylos complex, as they both readily admit.43 Do these observations suggest that these criteria need to be revised? Or is this an effect of the mere chances of discovery (or recovery), a combination of chance and taphonomic factors (ranging from nonpreservation to looting or pillaging concurrent or post-dating the final destruction of a Bronze Age site) that made certain items unretrievable? The ‘absence’ of each feature and its association with other criteria deserve careful and separate consideration. Darcque’s analysis may suggest, for instance, that size is an inconsistent feature, erratically (or so it would seem to us) linked to other features. Amongst the components of the “package”, the palatial megaron, Darcque’s “unité principale”, is the only one that refers to a specific architectural form. Palatial megara seem to occupy a niche of their own within the development of Late Helladic architecture. None of their characteristics, viewed in isolation, appears to be unique and unparalleled in current or precedent developments in Aegean architecture (see also further infra). One key distinguishing feature, as I have argued elsewhere,44 is their outstanding similarity. This similarity is not absolute, but it still stands out when viewed within the broader framework of certain similarities observed across the layout of other Mycenaean palatial sites. The uniformity among the three megara at Mycenae, Tiryns and Pylos becomes all the more exceptional when viewed against a far less homogeneous architectural framework.45 I find no reason to rephrase their characterisation as “islands of uniformity in a sea of heterogeneity”.46 But what does such remarkable uniformity mean? A direct (even potentially naive) way of answering this question is to view the similarity in form as a functional similarity: the three megara look so similar because they apparently fulfilled similar roles and functions or accommodated similar practices. Focusing on the lack of palatial megara from at least one other site that seems to fulfil most, if not all of the remaining criteria, namely Thebes, diverts us to the next question: how meaningful the absence of a palatial megaron really is? This question counters immediately the static, almost monolithic attitude towards the spatial configuration of palatial power that unfortunately colours many textbook approaches and broader syntheses. We are constantly stumbling upon the idea, implicit or explicit and phrased in a variety of tones, that palaces should have such megara, that these specific architectural forms are parts of the very

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JALKOTZY, S. HILLER and O. PANAGL (eds), Floreant Studia Mycenaea. Akten des X. Internationalen Mykenologischen Colloquiums in Salzburg vom 1.-5. Mai 1995 (1999) 555-576, at 557-560. DARCQUE and ROUGEMONT (supra n. 33) 561. Op. cit. DARCQUE 2005 (supra n. 20) 336-337 and displayed graphically in his fig. 105. M.C. NELSON, “The Architecture of the Palace of Nestor,” in F.A. COOPER and D. FORTENBERRY (eds), The Minnesota Pylos Project, 1990-98 (2017) 283-418, at 283. Cf. also DARCQUE 2005 (supra n. 20) 336-337, fig.105; DARCQUE and ROUGEMONT (supra n. 33) 561. PETRAKIS (supra n. 2). For a comprehensive survey of Mycenaean palatial architecture and its development through time see J.C. WRIGHT, “The formation of the Mycenaean palace,” in S. DEGER-JALKOTZY and I.S. LEMOS (eds), Ancient Greece from the Mycenaean Palaces to the Age of Homer (2006) 7-52, at 37-38 (comment on the homologies and differences among the various centres). PETRAKIS (supra n. 2) 18.

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idea of a palace. The deep roots of this belief may be symptomatic of an historiographic accident: megara were a constant feature in a string of some of the greatest discoveries in Mycenaean archaeology. The grandiose narrative begins with the revelation in the mid-1880s, of the Tirynthian “Männersaal” or “Männerwohnung”, the hall were nobility gathered, by Dörpfeld assisting Schliemann, which is followed up swiftly by the identification of the megaron at Mycenae by Tsountas (with Dörpfeld assisting again). The ‘hat-trick’ of the megaron is completed in 1952, when Carl Blegen reported the discovery at Pylos of “a room of great size, clearly the principal apartment of the palace, to the clearing of which our chief efforts during the campaign were devoted. It is a megaron of the classic mainland type, consisting of a great hall, a vestibule, and a two-columned portico fronting on a court, in most respects similar to the corresponding suites at Mycenae and Tiryns”.47 Blegen’s discovery was anticipated already in 1939, when he and Kourouniotis reported on “two immense squared stone blocks”, interpreted as “the bases of antae flanking the entrance to a stately megaron-like hall”.48 This row of discoveries was understandably hard to beat. The impression was therefore absorbed that the palatial megaron was a typical feature of all Mainland palaces. Of course, this is a falsifiable hypothesis: the discovery of a site that would fulfil all other criteria for ‘palatial’ status except that of the palatial megaron would eventually enable us to remove the megaron from Darcque’s (or anyone else’s) anticipated “architectural package”. Thebes is a prime candidate for these requirements, and despite the rather intensive exploration of the Kadmeia hilltop in recent years, particularly through the ongoing excavations led by Vassilis Aravantinos that focus on the evidence from the Mycenaean palatial period, no palatial megaron has been identified.49 Such Theban ‘resistance’ would not be entirely isolated: another feature that is commonly associated with ‘palatial’, monumental tholos tombs, has also been conspicuously absent from the site of Thebes and its environs. This ‘absence’ becomes a bit better understood if one considers that tholos tombs are extremely rare in Boeotia in general (the only example ‒yet outstandingly elaborate‒ being the so-called ‘Treasury of Minyas’ at Orchomenos), it can certainly be argued that their absence reflects the local preferences or rejections of the Theban palatial elites. Interestingly, it appears that this ‘rejection’ (if the term is appropriate) of the tholos is accompanied by the occasional (but nonetheless) remarkable monumentalization of the rock-cut chamber tomb type, as if the rock-cut type had to be risen to fill a sort of mortuary prestige ‘niche’, that existed nonetheless. The monumental (occasionally labelled ‘royal’) chamber tomb at Megalo Kastelli near Thebes may be quite suggestive of this trend at Thebes, and a hint that this idea might have been more generally ‘Boeotian’ might be inferred from the recent excavation of a monumental chamber tomb at Prosilio, part of an extensive cemetery that is apparently associated with Orchomenos.50 If Thebes preferred not to adopt the tholos, could it have preferred not to adopt the palatial megaron as well? Such a possibility does not necessarily suggest that the palatial megaron needs to be viewed as an exclusively Peloponnesian form51, although this is a position still suggested by the evidence. It might be interesting to observe that the better-preserved and most intensely explored palatial centres indeed appear to have adopted this specific form. The ongoing systematic excavations at Ayios Vasileios in Laconia have revealed what is undoubtedly the seat of a literate administration accommodated within a monumental

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C.W. BLEGEN, “The Palace of Nestor Excavations at Pylos, 1952,” AJA 57 (1953) 59-64, at 60. K. KOUROUNIOTIS and C.W. BLEGEN, “Excavations at Pylos, 1939,” AJA 43 (1939) 557-576, at 561. A very convenient up-to-date summary on Mycenaean Thebes is given in V.L. ARAVANTINOS, “The Palatial Administration of Thebes Updated,” in J. WEILHARTNER and F. RUPPENSTEIN (eds), Tradition and Innovation in Mycenaean Palatial Polities. Proceedings of an International Symposium held at the Austrian Academy of Sciences, Institute for Oriental and European Archaeology, Aegean and Anatolia Department, Vienna, 1-2 March, 2013 (2015) 19-49. On the Megalo Kastelli ‘royal’ tomb, see ARAVANTINOS (supra n. 49) 26-31, figs 6-10; for the Prosilio chamber tomb 2 see the mention in Y. GALANAKIS, “A survey of Late Bronze Age funerary archaeology over the last 25 years in the central and southern Aegean,” Archaeological Reports 64 (20172018) 85-101, at 91-92. This is a possibility entertained in PETRAKIS (supra n. 2) 14.

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architectural setting.52 Until the entire architectural complex is adequately explored, however, it would be quite unsound to express any anticipation on whether there was a palatial megaron there. Ayios Vasileios, then, would seem to provide a window that would enable us to confirm whether the megaron was a panPeloponnesian form. Still, there is an aspect of the megaron story that the Ayios Vasileios evidence might not be able to answer, if the chronology suggested for the destruction of the administrative centre at the very end of LH IIIA2 late/ beginning of LH IIIB53 is confirmed by future finds. Recent advances in our knowledge of the development of Tiryns and Pylos, owed to the brilliant work led by Joseph Maran and Michael Nelson respectively, have brought forward that the question of the significance of the absence or presence of the palatial megaron is not merely its distribution in space, but also its rise and fall through time. It is to this temporal perspective to the question that we must now turn. Off-line: a select hybridization “in order to understand Mycenaean culture and society, we have to pay more attention to the signs for discontinuous change triggered by intrasocietal processes.”54 It was argued above that the idea that the palatial megaron stood at the end of a long tradition of such halls, stretching back at least to MH times is inextricably linked to the belief of the existence of the ‘megara’ as reflecting a diachronic entity in the conception of built space. We also saw how the definition of the generic ‘megaron’ actually reflects what the archaeologists have been accustomed to label as such, rather than suggestive of the main traits of such a tradition. Still, if the elementary simplicity in the syntax of such buildings and the remarkable diversity in detail, construction techniques and function of such buildings give us strong reason to doubt the coherence of their categorization under any single heading, the three palatial megara seem to be worthy of a common label that has both etic and emic significance. James Wright has described the palatial megaron as an “axially aligned rectangular structure [...] consisting of porch, anteroom, central room with [fixed] hearth and surrounding colonnade, and emplacement for a throne at the center of the right-hand wall”.55 While admirably full, this description omits the painted decoration on the walls, hearth and floor of these buildings, which was a major component of their communicative/ performative function. Overlooking this major aspect of these buildings might allow their easier accommodation within a line of development that commonly derives the palatial megaron directly from MH domestic architecture, often insinuating that the difference between any rectangular two- or three-room building with axially aligned entrances and the palatial megara is basically one of degree. The idea of a linear progression from free-standing rectangular buildings found in MH settlements to the ‘palatial megaron’ is perhaps best exemplified in the work of Klaus Kilian56, as well as in a relevant 52

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A. VASILOGAMVROU, “Ανασκαφή στον Άγιο Βασίλειο Λακωνίας,” Prakt 2010 (2013) 65-80; Prakt 2011 (2014), 59-68; Prakt 2012 (2015), 63-76; Prakt 2013 (2015), 97-116; Prakt 2016 (2018), 131-183 [reporting on the 2014-2016 seasons] and the relevant sections in the Ergon for 2017 and 2018. For a presentation of the first surface finds of Linear B tablets from this site see V. ARAVANTINOS and A. VASILOGAMVROU, “The first Linear B documents from Ayios Vasileios (Lakonia),” in P. CARLIER, C. DE LAMBERTERIE, M. EGETMEYER, N. GUILLEUX, F. ROUGEMONT and J. ZURBACH (eds), Études Mycéniennes 2010. Actes du XIIIe Colloque International sur les textes égéens (Sèvres, Paris, Nanterre, 20-23 septembre 2010) (2012) 41-54. For a first assessment of the ceramic evidence on the chronology of the socalled West Stoa (where the bulk of the Linear B and other administrative documents have been hitherto found) see E. KARDAMAKI, “The Late Helladic IIB to IIIA2 Pottery Sequence from the Mycenaean Palace at Ayios Vasileios, Laconia,” Archaeologia Austriaca 101 (2017) 73-142. KARDAMAKI (supra n. 52). J. MARAN, “Tiryns and the Argolid in Mycenaean times: New Clues and Interpretations,” in SCHALLIN and TOURNAVITOU eds (supra n. 33) 277-293, at 277. J.C. WRIGHT, “Early Mycenaean Greece,” in SHELMERDINE ed. (supra n. 33) 230-257, at 249-250. K. KILIAN, “Mycenaeans Up To Date. Trends and Changes in Recent Research,” in E.B. FRENCH

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and influential study by Robin Barber.57 This conformed well to a neoevolutionist scheme that would explain the emergence of Mycenaean kingship as an organic, local development.58 Reactions against viewing the gradual emergence of the palatial megaron out of its MH and Early Mycenaean predecessors were at times raised,59 but not in a systematic fashion before the new excavations at Tiryns brought a gale of fresh air (see below). When we come to examine the ‘origins’ of the palatial megaron a reference to the earlier building complex with a ground-plan that is remarkably similar, the Menelaion Mansion 1 dated to LH IIB,60 is almost consistently mentioned as certainly foreshadowing, even anticipating the palatial megaron. 61 Gerhard Hiesel’s analysis of Mansion 1 as the earliest example of what he has defined as a “Korridorhaus”62 is of considerable interest, since he has emphasized the lack of precedents on the Greek Mainland, while observing that, architecturally, “Palast und Korridorhaus sind Facetten derselben Idee”.63 Still, it is notable that neither Menelaion, nor Phylakopi (the other site that has yielded an early ‘corridor building’ in the guise of the so-called “Megaron” of Renfrew’s phase IV:E dated to LH IIIA164) (Pl. LXa-b) have yielded evidence for administrative activity contemporary with these buildings (or in any phase of the Third Palace period). With regard to the ‘pedigree’ of the principles behind the conception and planning of Mansion 1 viewpoint of Hector Catling is similarly stressing that the construction of Mansion 1 signals a remarkable switch from monumental funerary architecture to monumental architecture for the living, being in essence more than a sum of its influences: “The end product (of which Mansion 1 is a specimen) is unlike any Helladic or Minoan predecessor or contemporary. As such it should be seen as the product of men who would henceforth for the next 200 years or more introduce and operate a completely new set of principles

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and K.A. WARDLE (eds), Problems in Greek Prehistory. Papers Presented at the Centenary Conference of the British School of Archaeology at Athens, Manchester, April 1986 (1988) 115-152, specifically fig. 9 at p. 138. It should be noted that Kilian had recognized the intrusive character of what he termed the “Doppelpalast”, namely the co-existence of two megara of differing scale, although he eventually opted to view this as a Helladic development (K. KILIAN, “Zur Funktion der mykenischen Residenzen auf dem griechischen Festland,” in R. HÄGG and N. MARINATOS [ed.], The Function of the Minoan Palaces. Proceedings of the Fourth International Symposium at the Swedish Institute in Athens, 10-16 June, 1984 [1987] 21-38). R.L.N. BARBER, “The Origins of the Mycenaean Palace,” in J.M. SANDERS (ed.), ΦΙΛΟΛΑΚΩΝ. Lakonian Studies in Honour of Hector Catling (1992) 11-24. A line of analysis first systematically explored by J.C. WRIGHT, “From Chief to King in Mycenaean Greece,” in P. REHAK (ed.), The Role of the Ruler in the Prehistoric Aegean. Proceedings of a Panel Discussion presented at the Annual Meeting of the Archaeological Institute of America, New Orleans, Louisiana, 28 December 1992, with Additions (1995) 63-80, explicitly taking the lead from K. KILIAN, “The Emergence of the wanax Ideology in the Mycenaean Palaces,” OJA 7 (1988) 291-302. M.K. DABNEY and J.C. WRIGHT, “Mortuary Customs, Palatial Society and State Formation in the Aegean Area: A Comparative Study,” in R. HÄGG and G.C. NORDQUIST (eds), Celebrations of Death and Divinity in the Bronze Age Argolid. Proceedings of the Sixth International Symposium at the Swedish Institute at Athens, 11-13 June, 1988 (1990) 45-53, at 48-49, while making a general point about the emergence of Mycenaean palaces. Cf. also WRIGHT (supra n. 55) 250. H.W. CATLING, Sparta. Menelaion I. The Bronze Age, vol. 1 (2009) 23-32. The implications of Mansion 1 were explored by G. HIESEL, Späthelladische Hausarchitektur. Studien zur Architekturgeschichte der griechischen Festlandes in der späten Bronzezeit (1990) 205-216; BARBER (supra n. 57); J.C. WRIGHT (supra n. 45) 20, sums up a commonly held opinion, when he notes that Mansion 1 “looks like a logical step from the rectilinear plans of the West and East Buildings at Tsoungiza”, while the Menelaion sequence is generally dubbed to be “a natural evolution towards the formalisation of the plan that Hiesel named the ‘corridor type house’” (for this type see next footnote). Hiesel’s “Korridorhaus” has been recently rendered “corridor building” by P. PANTOU, “An Architectural Perspective on Social Change and Ideology in Early Mycenaean Greece,” AJA 117 (2014) 369-400, at 370 without changing the basic architectural definition of a “megaron-type structure with an interior corridor and subsidiary rooms”. For “megaron-type” one should read “axially arranged rectangular hall with vestibule”. HIESEL (supra n. 61) 208. On the Phylakopi “Megaron” see PANTOU (supra n. 62) 374-378 with references.

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with which to regulate the communities under their control, and discover how to utilise the human and material resources within their group”.65 Although funerary monumentality did not vanish, it became far more restrained from LH IIB-IIIA1, and it is interesting to speculate whether this switch had anything to do with Cretan influence. Still, viewing the emergence of these ‘corridor buildings’ in such a macro-scale might blur a few interesting points in the life-history of Mansion 1. Mansion 1 is the first substantial Bronze Age structure on the Menelaion hilltop, reportedly built on “virgin ground”,66 but it suffered destruction and obliteration through the re-use of most of its building material for the reconstruction of its successor, the radically different in orientation and planning Mansion 2 (Pl. LXa). Catling has advanced two main hypotheses in order to explain why Mansion 1 was so soon replaced by a radically different structure. One holds that there were faults in the construction of Mansion 1, whose “Achilles’ heel” was its north-east corner “where a large part of Room 11 was floated on deep fill held in place by the masonry of the north-east angle [...] the corner built on fill broke away under stress and fell down the eastern scarp”.67 Faced with such a failure, the decision might have been made to scrap the entire complex and built an entirely different one from scratch, in an orientation and design that would allow expansion without such risks. An alternative, however, has also been proposed, one suggesting that either “the authorities found that Mansion 1 was insufficient for their needs” or the building “was not proving adequate for its purpose”, while Catling documents an “enlargement in storage potential” in Mansion 2 that might also be relevant.68 In this second scenario (which does not exclude the structural failure of the first hypothesis), the demolition of Mansion 1 was part of a re-organization project of the site within LH IIIA1 that might have a political significance.69 This evidence draws a picture of Mansion 1 as a short-lived experiment that failed.70 This should be of great relevance to any assessment of the role of Mansion 1 in the history of Mycenaean architecture, and the development of the palatial megaron in particular. Until more excavated examples show the plan of Mansion 1 to be an exemplification of a broader trend in Peloponnesian architecture in the LH II-IIIA range, its brief life and apparent rejection at the Menelaion itself makes it difficult to substantiate a scenario for its adaptation by the emerging palatial administrators in the Argolid or Messenia. If we maintain that the origins of the palatial megaron lie in the monumentalization of the “Korridorhaus”, we still have to explain why only the Pylos megaron shows the clear employment of this plan, while flanking corridors do not appear to be either present or communicatively significant in Mycenae or Tiryns. While the switch of monumental-scale labour investment to non-funerary architecture is apparent around LH II-IIIA throughout the Greek Mainland,71 it remains quite doubtful whether this switch took 65 66

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CATLING (supra n. 60) 448. CATLING (supra n. 60) 23. It is interesting that the same appears to be true of Building B, also built in LH IIB at another part of the site, the south slope of the Aetos hill (op. cit. 187, 198, 200). In the absence of positive evidence, the alternative explanation, that these loci (as well as most of the site, in fact) were “scraped clean” remains questionable, although the vigorous imposition of planned structures in LH IIB (of which Mansion 1 is the best example) is evident. CATLING (supra n. 60) 450-451. CATLING (supra n. 60) 451. Cf. his comment that “Mansion 1, fairly obviously, was ‘custom-built’ to fulfil a complex of objectives desired by those who commissioned the building, and set out an optimum design that caused architect and site engineer to have to improve on nature [...]. Perhaps it proved too small for its functions, to the point where it was decided significantly to enlarge it ‒the only way in which this could be done within terms of reference insisted upon was by building to a larger, still integrated, plan on both upper and lower platform” (op. cit. 15). Once more, we should observe that the change from Mansion 1 to Mansion 2 is reflected in changes in the history of Building B on the Aetos hill (op. cit. 451). Unfortunately, the evidence for the Phylakopi “Megaron” is far less clear. While the construction of this building is securely dated to LH IIIA1, its function and subsequent history are not. Renfrew admits that the “Megaron” might have still been standing in LH IIIC: C. RENFREW, The Archaeology of Cult. the Sanctuary of Phylakopi (1985) 401. A point generally made, e.g. in J.C. WRIGHT, “The social production of space and the architectural reproduction of society in the Bronze Age Aegean during the 2nd millennium B.C.E.,” in J. MARAN, C.

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the same form in all regions. Although Hiesel’s “Korridorhaus” was apparently one such development, diversity in planning and spatial syntax of LH vernacular architecture persisted throughout the Mycenaean period. Mansion 1 might show that such a plan was in vogue at some point around LH IIB in the Peloponnese, but it cannot possibly demonstrate a Laconian ancestry for the type, and we certainly cannot postulate that the Argolid elites adopted it from the Menelaion. Even if there ever was a line of development within the category of such “corridor buildings” that led to the palatial megaron, Mansion 1 appears to be branching off to a dead-end, rather than being a part of the main trunk. If the palatial megaron cannot be firmly explained as an ‘interior’ Helladic development, how did it come about? We already noted that the “corridor building” plan is also an unprecedented development. To label something as “unprecedented”, which is really an argumentum ex silentio, does not mean that one assumes a parthenogenesis or spontaneous creation. The idea that the formation of the Mycenaean palatial megaron was stimulated by Cretan influence is hardly new. Evans sought to derive elements of the Mycenaean palatial megaron from Minoan Crete, but this was embedded in his overall pan-Minoan vision of the LBA southern Aegean.72 Still, although commonly rejected, many of his observed ‘Cretan’ associations might merit reconsideration, especially his comment that we need to acknowledge “a much greater fundamental community between the Mycenaean and the Minoan plans than archaeologists ‒ affected by a kind of ‘Helladic’ mirage ‒ have hitherto been willing to admit”. 73 The rather acrimonious reference to the “‘Helladic’ mirage” notwithstanding, Evans takes an interesting perspective on the genesis of the Mainland palatial megaron in the same section of his ever-intimidating Minoan ‘encyclopedia’: the distinct ‘isolation’ of the Helladic halls is prompted by the fixation of the monumental hearth, itself a reflection of the different climate conditions between Crete and the Mainland, according to Evans. It was the need to shelter the hearth that “resulted in a predilection for a well walled-in compartment at the inner end of the ‘Megaron’”74 that may indeed be contrasted with the ‘open’ character of Cretan architecture.75 Still, Evans makes a series of observations that, if disjoined from his predilection to think in terms of the Minoan (Knossian) political domination on the Mainland, are valid and leading to new insights into the formation of the Third Palace period political institutions that were residing in these halls and their complexes. Evans associates the polythyron, a true pier-and-door partition, between the porch and the vestibule of Tiryns with a similar arrangement in the ‘Hall of Double Axes’. The sequence of the ‘light-

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JUWIG and U. THALER (eds), Constructing Power. Architecture, Ideology and Social Practice (2006) 49-74, at 6162; CATLING (supra n. 60) 448-450; PANTOU (supra n. 62). Within the Peloponnese, one should note the evidence for a substantial building complex dating to LH IIB-IIIA1 under the porch of the first palatial megaron in Tiryns (MARAN [supra n. 54] 279, fig. 1), as well as a substantial LH IIB building at Kakovatos, reported by the recent excavations directed by B. EDER, “Hoch hinaus und gut vernetzt. Die frühmykenischen Eliten von Kakovatos,” in Mykene. Die sagenhafte Welt des Agamemnon. Katalog der Sonderausstellung 1. Dezember 2018 - 2. Juni 2019 im Badischen Landesmuseum in Karlsruhe (2018), 90-94. None of these buildings appears to be a “Korridorhaus”. The following references are indicative: A.J. EVANS, The Palace of Minos I (1921) 23-24 on the Mycenae megaron being “an adaptation of the traditional Trojan form which here rises into view in an organically Minoized aspect”; op.cit. 550-551, fig. 401a-b on the Cretan origin of the painted decoration on the stuccoed monumental hearths in the megara; op.cit. II:2 (1928) 692-695 on the comparison between propyla at Tiryns and Knossos; op. cit. III (1930) 350-352 on the similarity between accessibility in the Helladic palatial megara and Minoan halls, with differences in the relative ‘isolation’ of the Mainland megara explained by the restrictions imposed by a central fixed hearth (cf. also D. MACKENZIE, “The Cretan palaces and Aegean civilization II,” BSA 12 [1905-1906] 216-258, at 250-258); finally, in op. cit. IV:1 (1935) 179-181, again strengthening the point of the Minoan origin of the painted motifs on the permanent hearths of the palatial megara (for which Evans suggests a religious symbolism). A.J. EVANS, The Palace of Minos III (1930) 351. Op. cit. 350. Although cited far less than Evans’ magnum opus, the ‘climatic’ interpretation of the megaron in fact originates in D. Mackenzie’s ideas on Aegean palatial architecture (MACKENZIE [supra n. 72]). For a revision of the dearth of Minoan fixed hearths and the dominance of the movable ones in First and Second Palace period Crete see P. MUHLY, “Minoan hearths,” AJA 88 (1984) 107-122.

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well’ the two-column porch and the polythyron seems to copy, but still inverts the syntax of a remarkable Minoan architectural form, that of the so-called ‘Minoan Hall’.76 Evans associated the ‘light-well’ with the effect of the rather small court in front of the Mycenae palatial megaron, although he might have admitted the difficulty in reconciling the rather spacious Tiryns court with the effect of a Minoan light-well.77 Evans’ one-sided vision of a Minoan-dominated Aegean did not leave much room for the kind of eclectic or “intentional hybridity” that we are now gradually recognizing as a crucial element in the making of what we term the ‘Mycenaean’ culture.78 In his uncommonly insightful study of the Tiryns megaron published at the same time as Palace of Minos III (where the afore-mentioned observations were entered), Kurt Müller also noted the interesting associations between the spatial arrangement of this hall and that of the Knossos Throne Room complex, particularly the placing of the area of the throne in the right-hand wall, which he attributed to Knossian influence.79 The idea is not far-fetched at all, and illustrates well the extra-Helladic flavour to an important feature of the megaron and the fixed installations included therein (the monumental hearth and, possibly, the throne): the way it was accessed and phenomenologically perceived. By the time both Palace of Minos III and Müller’s monograph on the architecture of the Tiryns Upper Citadel were published, the notorious debate over the relationship between Crete and the Greek Mainland throughout the Late Bronze Age was in full swing.80 In assessing all these similarities and analogies, an important impediment was the lack of a broad consensus on the relative chronology, and the way this was interlocked with assumptions about the degrees of dependence or independence ‒both culturally and politically‒ between Crete and the Greek Mainland. In this way, observations such as those made by Evans or Müller would be interpreted in radically different ways by those taking different positions within the aforementioned ‘war’. Certain extreme positions by Evans, including the dating of the megara in the earlier part of the Late Bronze Age, were opposed, after the intervention of critical discoveries, such as the discovery of a Mainland ‘palace’ in western Messenia using the until then exclusively ‘Minoan’ Linear B script in 1939, and, of course, the decipherment of the script itself in 1952, by theories that moved to the other end of the pendulum: Carl Blegen, in his report on the 1955 excavations at Pylos, commenting on the similarity between the paintings from the Pylos megaron and the Knossian ‘Throne Room’ suggested that it was the latter that “may indeed represent a remodeling carried

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On the development of the ‘Minoan Hall’ from First to Second Palace period examples see J.W. SHAW, “Tracing the Ancestry of the Minoan Hall System,” BSA 106 (2011) 141-165. EVANS (supra n. 73) 351. M.M. BAKHTIN, The Dialogic Imagination, Transl. by C. Emerson and M. Holquist (1981) 358-361; P. WERBNER, “Introduction: the dialectics of cultural hybridity,” in P. WERBNER and T. MODOOD (eds), Debating Cultural Hybridity. Multi-Cultural Identities and the Politics of Anti-Racism (1997) 1-26. More specifically on the relevance of this to the genesis of the Mycenaean idiom see J. MARAN, “Lost in translation: the emergence of Mycenaean culture as a phenomenon of glocalization,” in T.C. WILKINSON, S. SHERRATT and J. BENNET (eds), Interweaving Worlds. Systematic Interactions in Eurasia, 7th to 1st Millennia BC. Papers from a Conference in Memory of Professor Andrew Sherratt (2011) 282-294; ID., “One world is not enough: the transformative potential of intercultural exchange in prehistoric societies,” in P.W. STOCKHAMMER (ed.), Conceptualizing Cultural Hybridization. A Transdisciplinary Approach (2012) 59-66, at 62-64. K. MÜLLER, Tiryns III. Die Architektur der Burg und des Palastes (1930) 198. The similarity with the Knossian suite is further enhanced if one considers that the reconstruction of the pillar forming a ‘dithyron’ leading from the ‘Anteroom’ to the ‘Throne Room’ does not appear to be based on firm archaeological evidence (Y. GALANAKIS, E. TSITSA and U. GÜNKEL-MASCHEK, “The power of images: Re-examining the wall paintings from the Throne Room at Knossos,” BSA 112 (2017) 47-98, at 50, caption to fig. 3). It is also noteworthy that no ‘dithyron’ is shown in some earlier ground-plans of the suite, as in EVANS, Palace of Minos I (1921) 5, fig. For a historiographic survey see Y. GALANAKIS, “‘Islanders vs. Mainlanders,’ ‘The Mycenae Wars,’ and Other Short Stories: An Archival Visit to an Old Debate,” in N. VOGEIKOFF-BROGAN, J.L. DAVIS and V. FLOROU (eds), Carl W. Blegen. Personal and Archaeological Narratives (2015) 99-120.

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out by a Mycenaean conqueror who came from the mainland”.81 A further Cretan response to Blegen’s point came through Wolf-Dietrich Niemeier’s analysis of the fresco based on Sieglinde Mirié’s revision of the architectural history of the Throne Room area at Knossos: these studies solidified the chronological priority of the Knossos Throne Room over that of the palatial megara and showed that whatever influence there had been, it must have been from Crete to the Mainland and not vice versa.82 This agenda was effectively refreshed in a recent excellent paper by Joseph Maran and Eftychia Stavrianopoulou who suggested that the close similarities, even homologies, that have been repeatedly observed between the palatial megara and the Knossos ‘Throne Room’ suite were due to a close functional interrelation, one that might have extended even on the basic structure of the ritual action that took place within the megaron.83 Following the thread of this viewpoint, which also finds corroboration from other arguments pointing to the adoption of major socio-political institutional concepts from ‘Minoan’ Crete to the ‘Mycenaean’ palatial world, Maran has recently rephrased the origins of the Mycenaean palatial megaron as the outcome of a true hybridization: “the canonization of the megaron as the central palatial building in the 14th century B.C. should be perceived as the result of the fusion of a mainland architectural form and its central hearth with key features of the configuration of the Knossian throne room, like the placing of the throne on the right-hand side or the throne-fresco composition [...] the construction of the megara was meant to express the new confidence of Mycenaean rulers and to signify the transfer of religious-political power from Knossos to the mainland palaces”.84 In an earlier paper delivered fifteen years ago, I had stated, as explicitly as I felt confident at the time, that “the emergence of the [palatial] megaron is not a genuine offspring of early Mycenaean achievements, but an elaborate ‘hybrid’ [...] that needs to be ‘contextualised’”.85 This need was not fulfilled in that paper, which focused on the uniformity among the three megara as a facet of the koine of the Mycenaean palatial world, and thus paid deplorably little attention to the diachronic development of monumental architecture at each site.86 Much accumulated evidence especially from Tiryns and Pylos now calls for a reassessment of the evidence, suggesting that the arrival of the palatial megaron represents an intrusion within the historical trajectory of each site. At last, at a secondary centre: the palatial megaron in the Argolid The outstanding work carried out in the last couple of decades at Tiryns under the direction of Joseph Maran has strengthened the case for a discontinuity between earlier buildings, dated to LH I-IIIA1 and the establishment of the first palatial megaron not earlier than the LH IIIA2 phase.87 Excavations below 81 82

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C.W. BLEGEN, “The Palace of Nestor Excavations of 1955,” AJA 60 (1956) 95-101, at 95. W.-D. NIEMEIER, “Zur Deutung des Thronraumes im Palast von Knossos, ” AM 101 (1986) 63-95, at 67-68; ID., “On the Function of the 'Throne Room' in the Palace at Knossos,” in HÄGG and MARINATOS eds (supra n. 57) 163-168. In his reading of the Knossos evidence Niemeier drew heavily on S. MIRIÉ, Das Thronraumareal des Palastes von Knossos. Versuch einer Neuinterpretation seiner Entstehung und seiner Funktion (1979), as well as H. REUSCH, “Zum Wandschmuck des Thronsalles in Knossos,” in E. GRUMACH (ed.), Minoica. Festschrift zum 80. Geburtstag von Johannes Sundwall (1958) 334-356. For an approach analogous to Reusch’s on the Mycenaean palatial megara see P. REHAK, “Enthroned Figures in Aegean Art and the Function of the Mycenaean Megaron,” in REHAK ed. (supra n. 58) 95-118. It is beyond the scope of the present paper to comment on the details of the epiphany ritual and the gender of the occupant of the throne at Knossos or on the Mycenaean megara. J. MARAN and E. STAVRIANOPOULOU, “Πότνιος Ἀνήρ: Reflections on the Ideology of Mycenaean Kingship,” in ALRAM-STERN and NIGHTINGALE eds (supra n. 13) 285-298, at 289-290. MARAN (supra n. 54) 280. PETRAKIS (supra n. 2) 14, italics added. A similar conclusion of the ‘fused’ character of the palatial megaron was then independently made by DARCQUE 2005 (supra n. 20) 372-376. PETRAKIS (supra n. 2) 14, n. 15. J. MARAN, “Zur Frage des Vorgängers des ersten Doppelpalastes von Tiryns,” in S. BÖHM and K.-V. von EICKSTEDT (eds), ITHAKI. Festschrift für Jörg Schäfer zum 75. Geburtstag am 25. April 2001 (2001) 23-29, at 23, 28; MARAN and STAVRIANOPOULOU (supra n. 83) 291. Kilian’s supposedly MH “Maison de Chef” is

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the porch of the so-called ‘Great Megaron’ have revealed an interesting complex which, although severely damaged, is associated with fragments of painted plaster and substantial amounts of LH II pottery, whose form bears no relation at all to that of its successors.88 The stratigraphy and detailed study of the architectural history of the Upper Citadel at Tiryns shows, as clearly as one might hope, that the palatial megaron intrudes into the history of the site in LH IIIA2. Unfortunately, we have little evidence pertaining to the LH IIIA2 predecessor to the Mycenae palatial megaron.89 Wace excavated in the so-called Pillar Basement and dated it to early LH III, but unfortunately not closer than that.90 Elizabeth French accepts that structures with almost identical plan to that of the IIIB palace complex comprise what she has termed “Palace IV” at this site, “the first apparently to have a full Megaron complex”, that was part of the major development and monumentalization at Mycenae that focused on the primary construction of the citadel wall.91 Although our current state of knowledge regarding the predecessors of the Mycenae megaron does not allow us to draw any firm conclusions, there is evidence that might allow us to consider Mycenae as the ‘cradle’ of the palatial megaron at Tiryns. The arguments are indirect, but extremely interesting: work on the circulation patterns within the Upper Citadel of Tiryns by Joseph Maran and Ulrich Thaler has indicated an interesting distribution of cut conglomerate stone, a material and technique that is used prolifically at Mycenae, where it was locally quarried and employed to dress monumental entrances (namely, the so-called ‘Lion Gate’), as well as throughout two of the largest and latest tholos tombs there, the so-called ‘Treasury of Atreus’ and the ‘Tomb of Klytemnestra’, interestingly all located along or at the entrance to the fortified citadel.92 This phenomenological aspect of this highly labour-consuming (and thus ‘monumental’ in Bruce Trigger’s ‘thermodynamic’ sense) and highly exhibitionist chorography of this material is echoed at Tiryns, in a lesser scale and a more subtle manner: cut conglomerate is almost exclusively used on thresholds and other features specifically located along the very access route that passed through the Upper Citadel and reached the megaron itself (Pls LXI and LXIIa). Maran has described the approach to the Tirynthian megaron as centripetal, guiding the spectator/ ascending visitor from one liminal point (entrance, gate or propylon) into another, with major shifts in axis along the way.93 To this we

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now dated to LH I and does not appear to have been a particularly elaborate structure (see H. STÜLPNAGEL, Mykenische Keramik der Oberburg von Tiryns. Material der Ausgrabungen 1984, 1985 im Bereich des großen und kleinen Megarons, Ph.D. thesis, University of Freiburg [2000] 41-46; MARAN, op.cit. 23-25). MARAN (supra n. 54) 278-280, fig.1. For early accounts of the Mycenae palatial megaron, excavated by Tsountas and Wace, see TSOUNTAS 1893 (supra n. 6) 36-43; ID. 1888 (supra n. 6), 65-67, Pls 4-5 (by W. Dörpfeld); A.J.B. WACE (architecture and chronology), W. LAMB (wall-paintings), “The Megaron,” in A.J.B. WACE et al., “Excavations at Mycenae 1920-1923,” BSA 25 (1921-1923) 232-257. WACE in WACE et al. (supra n. 89), 185-186: “That the Pillar Basement dates from the beginning of L.H. III. is important fact too for the general history of the Palace. It suggests that the whole part of the Palace, of which it is one unit, should be dated to the same period. The walls of the Pillar Basement clearly belong to the same scheme as the Room of the Throne, the Court and in all probability the Megaron, for the Court and the Megaron hang together. The Megaron could not have been built unless the Court was there, for its plan and position prove that it forms part of the same system as the Court [...] If then the Pillar Basement was built early in L.H. III., and the ceramic evidence is decisive on this point, the Court and all that goes with it cannot be earlier; that is, they were built not earlier than the beginning of the fourteenth century B.C.” For Wace’s division of the proto-history of Mycenae into a “First Palace” and a “Second Palace” period see op. cit. 203204. Wace explicitly assigns the construction of the Megaron in his “Second Palace” period, op. cit. 247. E. FRENCH, “Recycling in Palatial Mycenae,” in D. DANIELIDOU (ed.), Δώρον. Τιμητικός Τόμος για τον Καθηγητή Σπύρο Ιακωβίδη (2009) 285-290, at 287-288. For the periodization of Mycenae see E. FRENCH, Mycenae. Agamemnon’s Capital (2002) 46 and E. FRENCH and K. SHELTON, “Early Palatial Mycenae,” in DAKOURI-HILD and SHERRATT eds (supra n. 1) 175-184, at 177. On the use of sawn conglomerate at Mycenae see WRIGHT (supra n. 45) 16-18, with diagrammatic presentation of the use of conglomerate in all Mycenae tholoi in fig. 1.4. J. MARAN, “Mycenaean Citadels as Performative Space,” in J. MARAN, C. JUWIG, H. SCHWENGEL and U. THALER (eds), Constructing Power. Architecture, Ideology and Social Practice. Konstruktion der Macht. Architektur, Ideologie und soziales Handeln (2006) 75-91, at 78, 83-84. It is interesting that it is the identification of this route

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may add the stunning effect of figural wall-painting, which might have hit spectators like a colourful wave once they had enter the porch and the vestibule of the megaron. Besides many other important aspects of the political and ritual significance of this arrangement, we may, once again, how fallacious it would be to focus on the seemingly simplistic space syntax of the megaron suite itself as a main criterion for typological grouping viewed in isolation: the megaron functioned as the destination of a far more elaborate, complex and intricate nexus of communicative effects. It is precisely such effects that lend new support to the typological isolation of the suites we have proposed here to call “palatial megara” against all other types of similar structures with a succession of spaces sharing a common longitudinal straight line of access.94 Building on the initial observation of the symbolic potential of this material as a ‘mark’ and direct reference to the elites at Mycenae, the difference in scale and ‘visibility’ between the use of this material at Mycenae and at Tiryns are interesting, as Maran has convincingly shown, as they might indicate an intentional down-grading of Tiryns that compellingly suggests its status as a subordinate site to Mycenae, at least from LH IIIA2 to the end of LH IIIB, and one that also suggests that the “imposition” of the palatial megaron there has been a footprint of domination by Mycenae. Maran has drawn a largely faultproof scenario that explains the spectacular rise of Tiryns from a rather meagre community in the Shaft Grave period towards a fortified citadel with a palatial megaron by LH IIIA2 times, as caused by extraTirynthian intervention.95 It is thanks to Maran’s reconstruction of Tirynthian history that we are, at last, able to discern the possibility that the establishment of a palatial megaron might not be such an outstanding criterion for identifying a first-order centre within a region, thus potentially releasing us of a major problem in inferring the political geography of the Argolid from the mute archaeological evidence. The difference between Tiryns and Mycenae is only enhanced if one accepts Maran’s compelling arguments regarding a further, unattested at Tiryns, centrifugal processional route, that used the palatial megaron at Mycenae as the departure point for a route that connected the megaron with the Cult Centre, the monumentalized Grave Circle A and may have even continued beyond the confines of the citadel, towards the monumental tombs that surrounded it or even more distant cult-places. 96 In this way, directionality and movement patterns involving the palatial megaron can only add to the powerful evidence provided by the virtually unique monumental landscape that unfolds within and around the Mycenae with the single example that might be termed ‘public’ monumental figural art in the Aegean Bronze Age: the ‘Lion Gate’ relief.97 Another feature, however, of the Tirynthian megaron is not clearly paralleled at Mycenae or, indeed, at any other Mycenaean site, is the seeming duplication of the megaron suite, with a similar structure of lesser size placed besides (yet with a distinct access) to the main megaron, thus implicating the notion of a

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that was used by Evans in 1930 (The Palace of Minos III 352) as evidence for the ‘Minoan’ spatial syntax of the Tiryns Upper Citadel, as it recalled to him a basic access module in Cretan architecture, the so-called ‘butand-ben’ buildings. Candidates for the focal point within the megaron are the central monumental hearth and the possible location of a ‘throne’ in the middle of the right-hand wall. Further discussion of the relevant problems must be reserved for a further study. MARAN (supra n. 54) at 278-280. MARAN (supra n. 93) 83-84. For this route, named the Processional Way by Georgios Mylonas, see G.E. MYLONAS, Mycenae Rich in Gold (1983) 138-140. It is important that there is evidence for a re-orientation of the Tsountas House Shrine, a major structure in the Cult Centre, towards the palatial megaron as well as the elaboration of the ascending (or descending!) ramp in LH IIIB2 (Phase VIII in the Well Built Mycenae phasing), see K. WARDLE, “Reshaping the past: Where was the 'Cult Centre' at Mycenae?,” in SCHALLIN and TOURNAVITOU eds (supra n. 33) 577-596, at 592, with fig. 7. It remains to be researched whether evidence exists for a similar route in the earlier part of LH IIIB or even in LH IIIA2, when the first megaron was supposedly erected. MARAN (supra n. 54) 281-282; ID. (supra n. 93) 84; Cf. also E.B. FRENCH, “The Role of Mycenae,” in R. LAFFINEUR and E. GRECO (eds), Emporia. Aegeans in the Central and Eastern Mediterranean. Proceedings of the 10th International Aegean Conference / 10e Rencontre égéenne internationale, Athens, Italian School of Archaeology, 14-18 April 2004 (2005) 125-127.

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“Doppelpalast”, recognized by both Müller and Kilian.98 Although Kilian had used arguments based on the functional analogies between palatial complexes to argue that a similar ‘duplication’ existed in Mycenae and Pylos, the clarity of the Tirynthian “Doppelpalast” is quite unparalleled in other sites, as Maran and Thaler have convincingly shown.99 Thaler has commented specifically on the lack of direct inter-communication between the “großes” (palatial) and the “kleines” megaron at Tiryns as an argument to prove that the occupant of the latter “must have held -besides some sort of governor’s office- another position of some importance the authority of which was not merely delegated by the ruler; the heir apparent of the dynasty may serve as an example, although a strictly arbitrary and necessarily speculative one”.100 Whatever the exact function of the “kleines” megaron, it is an integral part of the special trajectory of LH Tiryns, with possible implications as to the later, even more special, development of the site, as we shall see at the end of this paper. Making an entrance: the palatial megaron at Pylos Since 1952, it has been known that the palatial megaron form is not restricted to the Argolid. Carl Blegen’s excavations at the site of the so-called ‘Palace of Nestor’ have revealed a true megaron at that site too, an example that shows remarkable similarities with the Tiryns and Mycenae examples. In fact, if one decides to read too much into planning, proportions and structural details, the Mycenae and Pylos examples do look more close than the Tiryns one: the ratio between the dimensions of the main hall (Darcque’s “pièce principale”) are very close (1.12 at Mycenae and 1.15 at Pylos, while 1.20 at Tiryns).101 Other impressive details, such as the identity in the decoration of the stucco on the rim of the central monumental fixed hearth of the megaron at Mycenae and Pylos, or the seeming Pylian idiosyncrasy of the ‘libation channel’ to the right of the ‘throne’ position in the Pylian megaron 102cannot be properly assessed, as the pertinent evidence from Tiryns was obliterated due to the later construction of Building T (see below) and half of the megaron at Mycenae had tumbled down the Khavos gorge perhaps as early as the Postpalatial period. Given the uneven preservation between the three megara we may never be able to decide whether Mycenae had a throne podium like the one known from Tiryns, or what the exact details of the iconographic program at the Tiryns “großes” megaron were. The drawing of overlapping groundplans of the three megara published here (Pl. LXIIb), although potentially confusing, serves to show, besides the degree of similarity in planning and the relative approximation in proportions, that, unlike, for instance, Second Palace period ‘central courts’ on Crete, orientation played no role at all in the adoption of the form or its exact location within a complex. Still, a major desideratum had always been the proper ‘contextualization’ of the Pylos megaron, its proper placement in the history of the site. In 2001, Michael Nelson defended his doctoral dissertation, based on work accomplished within the confines of the Minnesota Archaeological Research Project in the Western Peloponnese (MARWP) from 1990 to 1998, which focused on the architectural history of the Epano Englianos complex. The principal conclusions were rapidly endorsed and quoted extensively in discussions of the early Pylian history by Jeremy Rutter and James Wright103, and a proper publication now forms a major part of the

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MÜLLER (supra n. 79) 168-171; KILIAN (supra n. 56 1987) 24-32 where the argument presented passim is that this ‘duplication’ is a rather regular feature of Mycenaean palatial complexes. MARAN (supra n. 54) 281, n. 47; U. THALER, “Movement in between, into and inside Mycenaean palatial megara,” in SCHALLIN and TOURNAVITOU eds (supra n. 33) 339-360, at 341. THALER (supra n. 99) 342. See the convenient tabular presentations of the various measurements in DARCQUE 2005 (supra n. 20) 379, fig. 108 and the comment in PETRAKIS (supra n. 2) 15. For an assessment of the Pylian ‘libation channel’ and its possible relationship to other possibly comparable features in Early Mycenaean tombs at the region see V. PETRAKIS, “Grooves and depressions at the entrances of Early Mycenaean tholos tombs from the Southwestern Peloponnese,” in P. KALOGERAKOU (ed.), Τιμητικός Τόμος για τον Καθηγητή Γεώργιο Στ. Κορρέ (forthcoming). J.B. RUTTER, “Southern Triangles Revisited: Lakonia, Messenia, and Crete in the 14th-12th centuries BC,” in A.L. D’AGATA and J. MOODY (eds), Ariadne’s Threads. Connections between Crete and the Greek Mainland in Late

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final report of the Minnesota Pylos project.104 In this work, Nelson outlined, to the best of our knowledge prior to the publication of the evidence from the excavations a propos the new shelter over the ‘Palace of Nestor’, that the site had seen a strikingly early use of cut masonry, perhaps as early as the very beginning of LH I. From LH I to the end of LH IIIB when the life of the palace complex ends abruptly in a conflagration event that fired its clay administrative documents into eternity, Nelson identified five major architectural phases, based on developments and shifts in construction technique and the treatment of stone: on the one hand, there were four phases of various styles in cut masonry, beginning with original cut ashlar masonry (conjectured and inferred from the re-use of ashlar in the next phase), followed by pseudo-ashlar masonry, orthostate construction and a new employment of ashlar masonry, ranging chronologically from even before LH I and lasting to the end of LH IIIA. On the other hand, perhaps most intriguingly of all, we have what Nelson has termed pier-wall construction, introduced in LH IIIB. 105 The most important feature of this remarkable and hitherto unparalleled sequence is its correspondence to Minoan construction techniques: with the exception of pier-wall construction, all other techniques have a long ancestry in Crete. What is remarkable is the centuries-long duration of such techniques, used in succession, at Pylos. We should envisage a long and enduring relationship between the Englianos masons and their patrons and Cretan developments, with an concomitantly enduring flow of technological knowledge from Crete to Englianos. We should be concerned particularly with the shift from ashlar masonry, introduced, as Nelson estimates, before the end of the LH IIIA period, and succeeded by pier-wall construction. In terms of Minoan legacy, we seem to encounter the first real discontinuity of the aforementioned relationship since the beginning of the LBA. In such disuse of cut masonry, encountered elsewhere in the Greek Mainland, Nelson has elsewhere seen a “deliberate shunning of the Minoan legacy”.106 At Pylos, the new technique adopted is barely seen anywhere else in the Aegean world. It did not involve quarrying or shaping new blocks in any way; instead the following steps were followed: “setting down a layer of fl at stones to serve as a foundation; erecting a timber formwork; building the piers with rubble and mortar; removal of the formwork; filling the interstices with mortar, sand and small stones; and plastering both sides of the walls”.107 Occasionally, as Nelson has noted, some segment of the timber frame could not be removed, as it had become stuck in the mortar, and was left in place. Such traces gave to the excavators the misleading impression of true xylodesia. This unprecedented innovation marks the advent of IIIB and follows evidence for a widespread fire destruction horizon that devastated the hilltop towards the end of IIIA or the very beginning of IIIB.108 The complex thus destroyed consisted of what appears to have been three buildings, labelled A, B and C by Nelson, arranged around an open space that might have been a court-like area.109 The construction of the Main Building, with its palatial megaron suite belongs to the construction phase that immediately followed this destruction. It would be very interesting if this early destruction of Englianos could be synchronised with the destruction of the West Stoa in Ayios Vasileios in Laconia, where a court-like area may also be recognized.110 In any case, the new palatial megaron at Pylos (the only

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Minoan III (LM IIIA2 to LM IIIC). Proceedings of the International Workshop held at Athens, Scuola Archeologica Italiana, 5-6 April 2003 (2005) 17-50, ar 23-32; WRIGHT (supra n. 45) passim and on construction techniques at 28-30. M.C. NELSON, “The Architecture of the Palace of Nestor,” in F.A. COOPER and D. FORTENBERRY (eds), The Minnesota Pylos Project, 1990-98 (2017) 283-418. NELSON (supra n. 104) 349-352. M.C. NELSON, “Pylos, Block Masonry and Monumental Architecture in the Late Bronze Age Peloponnese,” in J. BRETSCHNEIDER, J. DRIESSEN and K. VAN LERBERGHE (eds), Power and Architecture. Monumental Public Architecture in the Bronze Age Near East and Aegean (2007) 143-159, at 144. NELSON (supra n. 104) 329-344 for a discussion of the method; quotation from p. 339. Unfortunately, the non-availability of true stratigraphy made it imperative that Nelson’s datings are restrained by references in the notebooks, preliminary and final reports by the excavators. The general chronology is based on information included in the final report, where the evidence for a substantial fire destruction at the end of LH IIIA is mentioned (C.W. BLEGEN and M. RAWSON, The Palace of Nestor at Pylos in Western Messenia, I The Buildings and their Contents [1966] 32-33, 339). NELSON (supra n. 104) 358, fig. 4.4. KARDAMAKI (supra n. 52). See other references in the same footnote for the excavations at this site.

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such structure hitherto known outside the Argive plain) is built in this remarkable pier-wall construction method, employing re-usable timber formworks.111 Although the Pylos megaron resembled so much those at Mycenae and Tiryns, it was built in a radically different way. The divergent story of the Pylian hall leaves us at no less wonder, but it fits quite well with Wright’s general observation that “[i]n different ways each Mycenaean capital achieved a distinctive architectural style”.112 It is quite interesting that the pier-wall construction is only known from one other structure outside Pylos: the west wall of the so-called ‘Bathroom’ (Room XI) at the Upper Citadel of Tiryns.113 This room, with its remarkable monolithic floor, has been the focus of a recent study by Joseph Shaw, who analysed from the perspective of bathing architecture and proposed a series of wooden benches in the interior of its walls.114 There is nothing in Shaw’s reconstruction that would be in conflict with Maran’s consideration, building on the hypothesis that the Tirynthian megaron was only occasionally visited by the Mycenae rulers, of the ‘Bathroom’ as “the place where the king or the queen after their arrival underwent a ritual purification before entering the Great Megaron”.115 It is interesting to note, in this regard, that the Bathroom is not directly accessible from the court and its approach in no way intervenes with that of the prospective visitor. Whatever activity was accommodated in the ‘Bathroom’ was an affair of an internal circuit of the suite of rooms and corridors to the west of the megaron. 116 However, the significance of this specific application of the pier-wall technique at Tiryns still eludes us, especially since there are still no definite examples of pier-walls at Mycenae. We must definitely await further discoveries or reassessments of old ones before a pattern can be established. Already a couple of years after its defence, Nelson’s work led Rutter to support the idea of a Northeast Peloponnesian origin of the palatial megaron and its subsequent imposition in Pylos. The intrusive IIIB megaron would appear to be “modelled after Argive predecessors” on the grounds of its overall plan and decoration, and Rutter justifiably focuses on the recurrent imagery of recumbent griffins and lions. The data would appear to suggest the possibility of (and here I quote Rutter’s rhetorical questions as statements) “dynastic marriage or perhaps even an Argive conquest of the Pylian kingdom”117 Still, the question remains (and this is a true question): why the pier-wall construction? Perhaps a sidelight into the problem can be provided by Nelson’s shrewd observation that, of all construction techniques in use at Englianos until the destruction of the ashlar buildings at the end of IIIA/ beginnings of IIIB, the pier-wall construction is the only one that does not necessitate quarrying or shaping of new blocks at all, and, perhaps most tellingly of all, it allows the easy accommodation of some standing walls and the employment of reused intact blocks as door jambs or anta blocks, while broken blocks could be used in rubble structures.118 Rutter presses similar observations while seeking to reconstruct a plausible historical scenario for the rise of this technique, by emphasizing that the issue was one of “time, cost, or available personnel”.119 Saving time and workforce might have indeed been critical in endorsing an 111

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114 115 116

117 118 119

The claim for a pre-calculation in planning of these halls is occasionally made (e.g. J.W. GRAHAM, “Mycenaean Architecture,” Archaeology 13 (1960) 46-54, at 53). A proper assessment must be based on the nuanced analysis of precise measurement from Pylos, as well as from other Mycenaean palatial sites. For the Pylian pier-walls, see the considerations by NELSON (supra n. 104) 340-341. WRIGHT (supra n. 45) 37. This is the only example admitted by NELSON (supra n. 104) 343. I am grateful to Michael Nelson (pers. com. 2-July-2019) for confirming the solitude of the Tiryns example. J.W. SHAW, “Bathing at the Mycenaean palace of Tiryns,” AJA 116 (2012) 555-571. MARAN (supra n. 93) 84 citing previous ideas of Siedentopf and Kilian. The communication between the ‘Bathroom’ and the palatial megaron is also a considerably more complicated issue. MARAN (supra n. 93) 84, n. 87 seems to endorse the view of MÜLLER (supra n. 79) 148, Taf. I, that there was a connection between the quasi-parallel dog-leg corridors XII (whereby the ‘Bathroom’ can be accessed) and IX (that allows access to the lateral entrance to the vestibule of the megaron). It would be possible to assume a link through the upper floor, but this would be entirely hypothetical. RUTTER (supra n. 103) 27-28, 31-32, quotation from p. 32. NELSON (supra n. 104) 351. RUTTER (supra n. 103) 29. The alternative, phrased as “genuine architectural preference” I take to refer to emic aesthetic/ symbolic assessments of the result. Still, it can be doubted that these assessments were not taken

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ingenious new technique, although caution is needed not to read too much into the ‘rush’ character of the overall building programme and view it entirely through this looking-glass.120 Building for the palace: a textual interlude with a brief look at Pylian /toikhodomoi/ ‘wall-builders’ The professional appellation to-ko-do-mo, unanimously understood as /toikhodomoi/ ‘wall-builders’ occurs exclusively at Pylos on three occasions. On tablet PY Fn 7 (by Hand 3), food provisions assigned to workers related to an architectural project are recorded. The number of recorded /toikhodomoi/ is considerable (20 workers are recorded on line .3). Based on the total amount of o-pi-me-ne (‘for the month’ vel sim) rations, recorded as HORD 7[ T ]5 (estimated to be 720 lt of grain), the daily ration per individual is 1.2 lt, which is the standard male worker provision (calculation on the basis of a 30-day month).121 The term o-pi-me-ne occurs only here and it is unsurprising that it should occur with rations intended for a considerable group involved in such time-consuming tasks as construction or repair. On PY An 18.6 (by Hand 11), one wall-builder is recorded as absent (to-ko-do-mo a-pe-o /toikhodomos apehōn/ followed by VIR 1) in association with the place-name te-re-ne-we. The most remarkable reference, however, is that mentioned on the first part of PY An 35.1-.3 (like Fn 7, also assigned to Hand 3): .1 .2 .3

to-ko-do-mo , de-me-o-te pu-ro VIR 2 me-te-to-de VIR 3 sa-ma-ra-de VIR 3 re-u-ko-to-ro VIR 4

This part of the document is a prospective record of /toikhodomoi demehontes/ ‘wall-builders that are going to build’, with this seemingly pleonastic annotation apparently indicating that these craftsmen are on the way to specific destinations to work. The difference between the Locatives pu-ro /Pulōi/ ‘at Pylos’ and re-u-ko-to-ro /Leuktrōi/ ‘at Leuktron’ (arguably, the primary and the secondary capitals of the polity122) and the allative types me-te-to-de and sa-ma-ra-de (to me-te-to, to sa-ma-ra) suggests that, at the time of

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into account, as both the plan and layout remained intact and the novelty of pier-walls remained physically concealed under wall plaster. RUTTER (supra n. 103) 29 made the powerful and plausible point that the oblique grid-line of the decorated plaster floor of the Pylian megaron was a “bad mistake” in execution, “a blatant demonstration of rush job” (op. cit.). However, C. EGAN, “Working within the lines: artists’ grids and painted floors at the Palace of Nestor,” in S. LEPINSKI and S. McFADDEN (eds), Beyond Iconography. Materials, Methods, and Meaning in Ancient Surface Decoration (2015) 187-204, at 199 (with original italics), has suggested that the “the diagonal orientation of the grid at the southeastern end of the Pylos Throne Room floor was not accidental but planned ‒an intentional feature designed to engage the attention of a visitor as he or she entered the room, and to direct his or her movement toward the throne that was positioned against the northeast wall”, and interprets this shift in the grid as a “kinesthetic” device, directing the viewer into specific movements; in the case of the Pylos megaron floor, such a diagonal gridline would invite the spectator “to align himself with the floor and to move along a clear path toward the throne” (E.C. EGAN, “Textile and stone patterns in the painted floors of the Mycenaean palaces”, in M.C. SHAW and A.P. CHAPIN [eds], Woven Threads. Patterned Textiles of the Aegean Bronze Age [2016] 131-147, at 143). D. NAKASSIS, “Labor and Individuals in Late Bronze Age Pylos,” in P. STEINKELLER and M. HUDSON (eds), Labor in the Ancient World vol. 5 (2015) 583-615, at 595. The five pi-ri-e-te-re /prihestēres/ ‘sawyers’ on line .10 are expected to have been assigned the same daily ration, but this presupposes that the reconstruction of their monthly total amount as HORD 1 T 8[ V 4 Z 2 (= 180 lt.), rather than the visible HORD 1 T 4[ (which amounts to 134.4 lt). The reconstruction is not impossible, but surface of the right end of .10, like the rest of .7-.11 is very worn and no traces of signs can at present be discerned with naked eye. We should be clear that all these calculations rest on the hypothesis that the 20 /toikhodomoi/ and the 5 /prihestēres/ on lines .3 and .4 are the same individuals that receive the o-pi-me-ne rations on lines .10 and .11 of the same tablet. While, of course, this is most likely, even arguably obvious, it is still good to know what the working hypothesis here is. On re-u-ko-to-ro see J. BENNET, “re-u-ko-to-ro za-we-te: Leuktron as a secondary capital in the Pylos kingdom?,”

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writing, some /toikhodomoi/ are already allocated and some were to be mobilized. While the relationship of this record to that of a transaction, possibly an exchange of foodstuff for tu-ru-pte-ri-ja /struptēria/ ‘alum’ recorded in the bottom half of the same tablet (.5.-.6, separated by a blank line .4) is unclear, the to-ko-domo record gives us a snapshot of an administration where architectural projects were intensely pursued on various localities throughout the kingdom. That any Mycenaean palace should be interested in actively sponsoring architectural projects is unsurprising. What is in fact notable is the fact that such /toikhodomoi/ are not reported in other sites, most notably Knossos, where the quantity of documents is sufficient to make such a silence potentially significant.123 At this point, it might be worthy to explore the possibility that these /toikhodomoi/, exclusive as they are to Pylos, were specialized workers, perhaps experts in the pier-wall construction method that Nelson has so brilliantly identified. The associations of to-ko-do-mo with pi-ri-e-te-re on PY Fn 7 is also interesting, as the ‘sawyers’ would be required to produce the wooden framework that forms such an fundamental part of pier-wall building. This attractive possibility faces a formidable obstacle: during the later LH IIIB period, in whose end the Linear B documents from Pylos date, the architectural modifications that seem to have affected the circulation patterns and mobility within the Pylos complex appear to be no longer made in the laborious pier-wall technique, but in rubble masonry.124 Still, I think that the association between these two hitherto unique Pylian features, the /toikhodomoi/ and pier-wall expertise needs to be left on the table, at least until the study of the material from the excavations for the new shelter over the ‘Palace of Nestor’ give us tangible data for dating the various architectural phases. Such work might be able to clarify whether pierwall construction was limited to the earlier part of the LH IIIB period or whether it was practiced until the very destruction of the complex. Restoring the megaron? The world of the palatial megara ended violently with the demise of the Mycenaean administrative system. The spacious halls of Pylos and Mycenae were soon forgotten, although the suspicion that some recollection of them remained in the descriptions of μέγαρα in Homer is, as we saw at the beginning of this paper, virtually immune to criticism. Yet, one aspiring group of Postpalatial leaders attempted to ‘restore’ (if the term can be permissible here) some of the former palatial glory: upon the ruins of the great palatial megaron of Tiryns, Building T was erected.125 The question of how typical such a development was

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in J. BENNET and J. DRIESSEN (eds), A-NA-QO-TA. Studies Presented to J.T. Killen (2002) 11-30. It might be the case that the specialty of the builder is conveyed through reference to te-ko-to-ne /tektones/ at Knossos (KN Am(2) 826.2), a term whose original meaning is commonly accepted as ‘carpenter’. The fact that the foreman supervising the work of both the ‘sawyers’ and the ‘wall-builders’ on PY Fn 7 is named pa-teko-to /pan-tektōn/ is indicative that, at least at Pylos, the term te-ko-to had the broader sense of ‘craftsman’, ‘individual skilled in construction’, in which case /pan-tektōn/ is a ‘construction foreman’ rather than specifically a ‘master-builder’ as its etymology might imply. That said, the pi-ri-e-te-re ‘sawyers’ are very closely associated with the supposed (see above) original woodcraft expertise of the pa-te-ko-to, which may or may not be coincidental. In any case, even if te-ko-to had the meaning of ‘builder’ at Pylos, the fact that a different transparent compound appellative is used (or even devised) there, indicates that the skills required for whatever the to-ko-do-mo were doing were different to that of a mere construction-worker. NELSON (supra n. 104) 362, 365. He (op.cit. 365) succinctly describes the spirit of the “significant and somewhat unfortunate [...] change in aesthetics” of the late LH IIIB repairs, that virtually demolished the traditional “predilection for cut stone masonry [...] aesthetically impressive walls were sacrificed. Ashlar was replaced with limestone slab construction [...] a good portion of the northeast facade of the Main Building was concealed by the addition of Courts 42 and 47” summing up what he terms as the “the sacrifice of a longstanding aesthetic tradition”. For the past and current interpretations of Building T see J. MARAN, “Das Megaron im Megaron. Zur Datierung und Funktion des Antenbaus im mykenischen Palast von Tiryns,” AA (2000) 1-16; ID., “Political and Religious Aspects of Architectural Change on the Upper Citadel of Tiryns. The Case of Building T,” in

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is answered by the title of a recent synthesis of the research in the Tiryns Lower Town by the excavator.126 Unlike its palatial predecessor, Building T is a much humbler building, that probably lacked a ceremonial hearth, but did incorporate the throne podium of the megaron. There is no evidence that it was decorated with wall-paintings. Maran sees powerful evidence for discontinuity alongside attempts to demonstrate continuity, and no evidence that Building T was anything more than an elite assembly hall, rather than the true abode of an single aspiring ruler and his kin. This structure is placed amidst a carefully orchestrated re-arrangement of ruins, with dismantling of walls to enhance visibility from the Lower Town and neighbouring sites, so that both the building and whatever activity took place on the Great Court before it would be open for all to see. No propyla, no great walls or other de-fencive structures were built or repaired. There was no guidance for centripetal movement. Building T was extrovert and open, while its predecessor appears to have been introvert and closed. Perhaps even more tellingly, this interesting attempt at ‘resurrection’, or, rather, ‘renaissance’, was made amidst a remarkably thriving LH IIIC settlement. But what made Tiryns take such odd decisions, not paralleled in other sites? One could dwell on the natural properties of the site, its proper placement as a hub of commerce for one of the most powerful political entities in the Aegean during the later 14th and 13th centuries B.C. and view the genesis of an aspiring elite group of a prosperous community within that frame. I here take the chance, following the lead, as I am compelled to, by the work of Joseph Maran, and tracking the inquiring paradigm of John Younger’s scholarship, to suggest two possible clues as to why the decision to build a megaron atop of the citadel fits with other snapshots of Tirynthian history. On the one hand, we should observe that the construction of a new building signaling a new era did not happen for the first time in the history of the site. It is quite probable, as Maran has again documented,127 that the ruins of a remarkable EH II circular building (or of a tumulus covering it) might have been still visible in the 14th century B.C. when monumental construction begun at Tiryns. If we accept that the erection of the palatial megara was done on the initiative of neighbouring Mycenae, we might associate this usurpation of the Tirynthian past with the glorification of Mycenae’s own imagined past, reified in the monumentalisation of Grave Circle A, perhaps already advanced128 before its proper inclusion within the expansion of the fortification wall. Here I deviate at my own risk from the exemplary caution in Maran’s analysis of the relationship between the structures in this outstanding sequence spanning more than a millennium, and ask: Could the LH IIIC elites that patronized the erection of Building T have been consciously following the lead of their powerful palatial predecessors by claiming status through physical association? On the other hand, we should not lose sight that Tiryns is the only known palatial site where a true “Doppelpalast” arrangement is attested, as previously noted. If the great megaron might have been reserved for the occasional visits of the paramount wanaks of Mycenae, what would the “kleines” megaron have been for? Let us here ponder on Maran’s interesting suggestion that this structure was the abode of a “deputy of the wanax”.129 Although we have no textual evidence of such an office from Pylos, Knossos or Thebes

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R. LAFFINEUR and R. HÄGG (eds), Potnia. Deities and Religion in the Aegean Bronze Age. Proceedings of the 8th International Aegean Conference, Göteborg, Göteborg University, 12-15 April 2000 (2001) 113-122; ID., “Coming to terms with the past: ideology and power in Late Helladic IIIC,” in DEGER-JALKOTZY and LEMOS eds (supra n. 45) 123-150; ID., “Contested Pasts - The Society of the 12th c. B.C.E. Argolid and the Memory of the Mycenaean Palatial Period,” in W. GAUSS, M. LINDBLOM, R.A.K. SMITH and J.C. WRIGHT (eds), Our Cups Are Full. Pottery and Society in the Aegean Bronze Age. Papers Presented to Jeremy B. Rutter on the Occasion of his 65th Birthday (2011) 169-178. J. MARAN, “Against the Currents of History: The Early 12th c. BCE Resurgence of Tiryns,” in J. DRIESSEN (ed.), RA-PI-NE-U: Studies on the Mycenaean World offered to Robert Laffineur for his 70th Birthday (2016) 201-220. J. MARAN, “The persistence of place and memory: The case of the Early Helladic Rundbau and the Mycenaean palatial megara of Tiryns,” in M. BARTELHEIM, B. HOREJS and R. KRAUSS (eds), Von Baden bis Troia. Ressourcennutzung, Metallurgie und Wissenstransfer. Eine Jubiläumsschrift für Ernst Pernicka (2016) 153-173. See WARDLE (supra n. 96). MARAN (supra n. 93) 85.

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(unless of course the ra-wa-ke-ta /lāwāge(r)tās/ at Pylos and Knossos are interpreted in such a way) it is always conceivable that the political structure of each polity would have differed, perhaps reflecting the peculiarities of each polity’s own historical trajectory. Supposing that such deputies existed, they would have certainly been exercising considerable, albeit local, power, overshadowed by the higher lord of Mycenae, if the subordinate Tiryns model is followed. Is it too far-fetched that such a powerful local figure would have risen to prominence once Mycenae had been weakened? This rather simplistic scenario, suggesting an explicit connection between the officials running the administrative sub-level of local Tirynthian affairs (possibly, but not certainly, utilizing writing for their affairs) and those elites that rose to the occasion soon after the collapse of the palace system, might explain why these exceptional marks of Postpalatial anastrophe following the Palatial catastrophe occur in the one site where the “Doppelpalast” arrangement is most lucid. Perhaps these two clues can be viewed as compatible to each other and stimulate further enquiry into the local, site-specific factors that influenced the decisions about what to keep, what to reject, and what to adapt to current needs, and, above all, how this could be done to the best effect. Vassilis PETRAKIS

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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Pl. LVIII Pl. LIX Pl. LXa

Pl. LXb Pl. LXI

Pl. LXIIa

Pl. LXIIb

Map of the Aegean showing the distribution of the certainly identified features used for the identification of ‘palatial’ sites. Map prepared by the author. Map of the Aegean showing the distribution of the palatial megara. Map prepared by the author. Plans of Mansion 1 (LH IIB-IIIA1) (above) and Mansion 2 (LH IIIA1-2) (below) at the Menelaion hilltop, showing radical change in orientation and planning. Adapted from H.W. CATLING, ArchDelt 30 (1975) figs 2 and 3. Plan of the Phylakopi “Megaron”, after T.D. ATKINSON et al., Excavations at Phylakopi in Melos (1904) fig. 49. A rudimentary plan of the main communication routes towards the palatial megaron in the Pylos Main Building in earlier LH IIIB (left) and later LH IIIB (right) modified by the author after schematic plans by NELSON (supra n. 104) 363-364, figs 4.7-4.8. For an admittedly superior documentation and analysis see THALER (supra n. 99). Main communication routes towards the palatial megaron in the Tiryns Upper Citadel after MARAN (supra n. 93) Pls 12-13. The blue colour on the left plan marks the use of cut conglomerate stone at certain luminal points along the access route towards the megaron. The plan on the right shows the exact route with these same luminal points encircled. Images courtesy of Professor Joseph Maran. Overlapping ground-plans of the three palatial megara demonstrating the close proximity in planning and proportions between the buildings as well as vast differences in orientation. The relatively closer relationship between the Mycenae and the Pylos megaron, with respect to that from Tiryns is also worthy of note. Green: Mycenae; red: Tiryns; blue: Pylos. Original drawing prepared by the author on the basis of DARCQUE 2005 (supra n. 20) plans 48, 65b and 113.

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F. RECEPTION

THE USABLE PAST: MINOANS REIMAGINED8 Introduction Archaeological pasts are everywhere “usable” and have cultural and economic capital. In the case of the Cretan, or Minoan, Bronze Age past, archaeological rediscovery coincided both with the development of modern European identities and with the emergence of new artistic movements. Aegean Bronze Age art and imagery was hailed as fresh and modern, provoking a fascination with all things Minoan as explored in an emerging scholarship of “Cretomania”. The Minoan past continues to be recreated, re-imagined and consumed up to the present day, each “reuse” having a specific context, a unique story or biography. This chapter explores selected case studies of Minoans “made modern”, drawing on examples which range from commodification to reflective engagements with gendered and environmental issues. The dawn of the twentieth century is the opening chapter for these modern Minoan stories. Long glimpsed only through the lens of familiar myths – the fierce Minotaur deep in the Cretan labyrinth, or the princess Europa abducted by Zeus and carried across the sea to Crete, this is the timeframe when myth gives way to the spade, as archaeologists uncovered and rediscovered the Cretan Bronze Age. Those rediscovered Minoans – some would say “invented”1 – built palaces, developed writing systems, travelled and traded across the Mediterranean. In the fragments of archaeology they have left behind images of themselves: elegantly clad women in flounced skirts and tight bodices around bare breasts (décolleté – to use the circumspect language of early scholars), and wasp-waisted youths with dark flowing hair. The art abounds too with animals and plants – an exhausted bull with lolling tongue, a painted octopus entwined around a pot, a lily in full bloom, petals falling. Timing matters. The rediscovered Minoans were conceived of as a crucial part of European heritage.2 Their early twentieth-century rediscovery coincided both with debates about European identity shaped from the horrors of world wars (making the apparently peace-loving Minoans very appealing), and with the flowering of new artistic movements. There was a real craze for all things Minoan: in other words, a “Cretomania” that inserted itself into architecture, dance, painting, and fashion design, and in ever-evolving ways continues to do so. “Cretomania” was the title of a conference held in Athens in 2013 and subsequently published in 2016.3 It takes its cue from the more famous and earlier phenomenon of “Egyptomania” and the later “Tutmania”, the latter following following Carter’s opening of the tomb of Tutankhamun in November 1922 and with excitement peaking again in the 1970s with touring museum exhibitions of the finds. The boy pharaoh and his associated Egyptian imagery became ubiquitous, whether helping to sell Palmolive soap, as the cover of school exercise books, or inspiring music and film, making this particular archaeological past surprisingly “global, youthful and democratic”.4 But while almost every school child learns something about ancient Egypt – mesmerised by their animal deities, or finding the process of ∗

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Acknowledgements: I am grateful to the editors for inviting me to contribute to this volume in honour of John whose scholarship is always inspiring and thought-provoking. I am grateful to Nico Momigliano, a fellow “Cretomaniac” for many interesting conversations on this topic, and to Andrea Goldsmith for generously corresponding with me about Dorothy Porter, and to Stavros Platsis (Asterias Creative Design) for responding to my questions about the Minoan Coca-Cola bottle design. J. PAPADOPOULOS, “Inventing the Minoans: Archaeology, Modernity and the Quest for European Identity,” JMA 18 (2005) 87-149. Y. HAMILAKIS (ed.), Labyrinth Revisited. Revisiting Minoan Archaeology (2002); Y. HAMILAKIS and N. MOMIGLIANO (eds), Archaeology and European Modernity. Producing and Consuming the “Minoans” (2006); C. GERE, Knossos and the Prophets of Modernism (2010). N. MOMIGLIANO and A. FARNOUX (eds), Cretomania. Modern Desires for the Minoan Past (2016). M. CONIAM, Egyptomania goes to the Movies. From Archaeology to Popular Craze to Hoolywood Fantasy (2017) 26.

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mummification gruesomely fascinating, and most of us can, for example, list off any number of films inspired, however loosely or inaccurately, by ancient Egypt5 – the Minoans have not occupied such a prominent or familiar place in the public imagination. Each year I ask students taking my Aegean Bronze Age course what they think they already “know” about the Minoans. For many it is a blank slate, largely unfamiliar even for students studying within the field of Classics; some mention Snake Goddesses, bull leaping, the myth of the Minotaur; or, less often, the idea of Atlantis; and for a few a holiday on Crete (though more likely to have been of the “sun and sand” type) may have left its traces in the form of souvenirs with Minoan imagery, the essential physical memento of the touristic experience.6 This point would not hold true, of course, for Cretans (and perhaps Greeks more broadly) who will have learnt about the Minoans and Mycenaeans in school as part of their own history, making reuse in a local context a different kind of encounter.7 Modern references to the Minoans, or Aegean culture more broadly cannot, however, rely on an easy familiarity or knowledge on the part of “consumer”, especially when presented outside an obviously Aegean Bronze Age context. Some recent television examples can illustrate this point. The BBC/Netflix series Troy: Fall of a City,8 though drawing on imagery from a confused kaleidoscope of historical periods, also made substantial use of Bronze Age imagery, as might be expected from the subject matter. Aegean wall paintings adorn the walls of the Spartan palace, and Menelaos and Helen are each seated on the distinctive Knossos thrones9 (though in pairing the thrones the film-makers have, rather disappointingly, chosen to reinforce gender stereotypes by making Helen’s throne shorter).10 Contrast this with the very popular TV series Game of Thrones which has a loosely medieval frame of reference, so not an obvious “home” for anything from the Aegean Bronze Age. However, at the beginning of Series 5, a Vapheio cup makes an unexpected appearance in the hands of Tyrion Lannister (well-known for his fondness for wine).11 This created a wave of interest on social media both among archaeologists who were quick to spot the distinctive “Quiet Cup” from the Vapheio pair, and among self-confessed “nerds” who impressed friends and followers with their esoteric knowledge. In terms of a modern reuse of the Aegean Bronze Age this lies at the rather superficial end of the spectrum, given that it is likely that the prop department chose the cup purely for its aesthetic qualities. However, the popularity and ready availability of replicas of the Vapheio cups could have been a significant factor in its selection. Replica Vapheio cups have a long history from early examples such as the Gilliérons’ electrotype replicas found in many museum collections,12 or sterling silver copies made by British silversmiths George Nathan and Ridley 5 6

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CONIAM (supra n. 4) 159-176. P. DUKE, The Tourists Gaze, The Cretans Glance. Archaeology and Tourism on a Greek Island (2007); M. HITCHCOCK and K. TEAGUE (eds), Souvenirs. The Material Culture of Tourism (2000); K. SWANSON, “Souvenirs, Tourists and Tourism,” in A.A. LEW, C.M. HALL and A.M. WILLIAMS (eds), The Wiley Companion to Tourism (2014) 179-188. A. SIMANDIRAKI, “Μινωπαιδιές: the Minoan Civilisation in Greek Primary Education,” World Archaeology 3 (2004) 177-88; EAD., “The “Minoan” experience of schoolchildren in Crete,” in HAMILAKIS and MOMIGLIANO (supra n. 2) 259-274. BBC/Netflix, Troy: Fall of a City (2018-). For a detailed study of replicas, including the Knossos throne, see A. SIMANDIRAKI-GRIMSHAW, F. SATTLER and K. ANGERMÜLLER (eds), Replica Knowledge. An Archaeology of the Multiple Past (forthcoming 2019). Troy: Fall of a City (supra n. 8), E1, “Black Blood” at 27.19. HBO Game of Thrones, S5.E1 “The Wars to Come” (2015) at 11.45. S. HEMINGWAY, “Historic Images of the Greek Bronze Age. The Reproductions of E. Gilliéron & Son,” Exhibition, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 17 May to 13 November 2011 (blog) 2011. https: //www.metmuseum.org/blogs/now-at-the-met/features/2011/historic-images-of-the-greek-bronze-age; S. HEMINGWAY “Les reproductions par galvanoplastie d’objets mycéniens par Émile Gilliéron et Fils”, in P. DARQUE and A. BOUCHER (eds), La Grèce des origines, entre rêve et archéologie (2015) 74-77; C. MITSOPOULOU and O. POLYCHRONOPOULOU, “The archive and atelier of the Gilliéron artists. Three generations, a century (1870s-1980s)”, in E. BORGNA, I. CALOI, F. CARINCI and R. LAFFINEUR (eds), MNHMH/MNEME. Past and Memory in the Aegean Bronze Age (2019) 725-730.

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Hayes,13 to modern museum copies for sale on ebay (with the helpful proviso in one case that it is suitable for “exhibition not for drinking”). Tyrion’s use of the cup can, then, be placed within the wider story and affordances of artefact replication. Thinking about reuse from the perspective of a modern producer or creator of Minoan themed content, he or she is less likely to have accessed Minoan imagery from a readily available cultural back catalogue of uses than someone drawing on Egyptian or Classical material, both of which have a long and complex reception history and carry with them obvious cultural capital. In many ways, this makes “Cretomania”, the phenomenon of modern reuse or reimagining of the Aegean past, all the more intriguing. Its timeline is far more restrictive – limited to after the archaeological rediscovery of the Bronze Age (if one excludes material that is purely mythological) – facilitating the tracing of networks of influence and inspiration, which in turn enhances the potential for exploring the knowledge base, interests and agendas of particular re-imaginings and re-creations. While there is some satisfaction to be gained from the process of recognising and collecting examples of modern reuses of Minoan, or more broadly Aegean, imagery and artefacts (such as spotting the Vapheio cup in Game of Thrones or a Cycladic figurine in Star Trek)14 these only come properly to life through careful contextualisation. The task of exploring modern reuses is (and should be) complicated by the situational nature of new productions and how they are experienced, given that they will be shaped by time, context and motivation and experience, both personal and societal. Minoan Reuse: a Century in the Making Before turning to the specific examples chosen here for discussion, it is worth stepping back for a moment to give a sense of the wider landscape of reuse, some of it already expertly explored, much of it awaiting deeper analysis.15 One of the richest and earliest seams for re-imagining is undoubtedly the creative arts: architecture, painting, sculpture, music, theatre and dance performance, costume design and literature. An overarching factor in much early 20th century reuse was modernism, which in selfconsciously rejecting the classical past looked elsewhere for inspiration. Newly emerged from the ground, the palace of Knossos and its well-publicised finds made a special impression. Ziolkowski suggests that very few modernists had direct experience of Crete or Minoan culture. 16 In some cases, however, direct engagement is documented; Leon Bakst, for example, visited Knossos in 1907 and made sketches of Minoan designs, leading to his Minoan-inspired costumes and set designs for the Ballets Russes and others.17 While the Minoan imprint could not be clearer, a vivid (even psychedelic) re-imagining is also at play, for example in the design of the octopus-decorated columns for Ida Rubenstein’s 1923 staging of Phèdre.18 In the world of high fashion, Mariano Fortuny made the source of his inspiration clear in his silk “Knossos scarves” first printed in 1907 with floral, marine and abstract Minoan designs, which he researched and sketched from archaeological publications.19 In other reuses it can be more difficult to trace possible travels or particular readings that stimulated a Cretan-inspired design or performance. In

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These Birmingham based silversmiths were well-known for their reproduction pieces of archaeological finds in the early 1900s. See https://purelysilver.info/george-nathan-ridley-hayes/ (accessed 2.6.2019). Cycladic figurines appear in Star Trek: Voyager, “Time and Again” (S1.E4), and in Star Trek: Next Generation, “The Inner Light” (S5.E25). MOMIGLIANO and FARNOUX (supra n. 3); N. MOMIGLIANO, In Search of the Labyrinth. The Cultural Legacy of Minoan Crete (forthcoming). T. ZIOLKOWSKI, Minos and the Moderns. Cretan Myth in Twentieth-Century Literature and Art (2008). N. MOMIGLIANO, “From Russia with love: Minoan Crete and the Russian Silver Age,” in MOMIGLIANO and FARNOUX (supra n. 3) 84-110; N. MOMIGLIANO, “Modern Dance and the Seduction of Minoan Crete,” in S. KNIPPSCHILD and M. G. MORCILLO, Seduction and Power. Antiquity in the Visual and Performing Arts (2013) 35-55. N. MOMIGLIANO in MOMIGLIANO and FARNOUX (supra n. 3) figs 5.19-20. I. CALOI, “The Minoan woman as the Oriental woman: Mariano Fortuny’s Knossos scarves and Ruth St Denis,” in MOMIGLIANO and FARNOUX (supra n. 3) 71-83.

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Ted Shawn’s solo male dance “Gnossienne” or “Priest of Knossos”, first performed in 1919, the dancer wears a Minoan-inspired costume and interacts with an off-stage Goddess, but it is not possible to pin his ideas down to particular publications, lectures or exhibitions.20 It is a similar story with Paul Klee’s 1940 painting “Stadtbild Knossos (View of Knossos)”. Although Klee travelled widely in the Mediterranean and visited many archaeological sites, a journey by ship in 1928 records him only as catching “glimpses of Syracuse, Crete and Athens, before arriving finally at Alexandria”.21 It has also been suggested that he may have drawn on ideas from Evans’ publications, for example for his earlier “Palace. Partly Destroyed” (1926).22 Like painters and designers, writers too have engaged in complex ways with the myths and archaeology of Crete, imagining Minoan Crete variously as matriarchal, peace loving, libidinous, or decadent. A good example of a locally situated writer is the Cretan author Nikos Kazantzakis; although he travelled and lived outside Greece, he returned to Crete often and also visited the Knossos excavations. In Report to Greco, he pictures himself always carrying a piece of Cretan earth,23 and in his letters he speaks of “the Cretan mountains, the soil that fashioned my body”.24 Among his works that reference Bronze Age Crete is At the Palaces of Knossos, written for a Greek youth periodical in the late 1930s.25 The premise of the story, that the Minoans have become a decadent, fin-de-siècle civilisation, ripe for destruction (in this case to make way for the new order of Theseus and the Athenians) is one that is present in early discussions, and frequently recurs in literary representations.26 More recently, the world of science fiction has also found the Minoans (and the Aegean Bronze Age more generally) good to think with, picking up many of the same concerns with the boundaries of peace and violence, of civilisation and barbarism, and of apocalytic destruction. This extends from novels such as Laura Reeve’s Major Ariane Kedros series to the “Broca Divide” episode of Stargate SG-1 (1997); the latter is particularly rich in Minoan imagery, a point driven home for the viewer by the team’s expert in ancient languages and cultures, Daniel Jackson, telling us it “looks Minoan”.27 As Bourke notes, Minoans in science fiction mirror their reuses in other media, “slightly weirder, perhaps slightly more explicitly alien – and in Stargate’s case slightly campier”.28 Another key area of Minoan reuse, and one that merits more detailed study, is modern paganism, where imagery and ideas about the Minoans contribute to the inspirational base for new spiritual movements. Goddess worshipping traditions are, unsurprisingly, prominent given the high visibility of women in Minoan art, even if their identities – goddess, priestess, ritual participant – are often frustratingly ambiguous. As Talalay has observed, the general field of Goddess studies is “politically inflected”, occupying two different worlds: the materiality of archaeology and the spirituality of the Goddess movement.29 Interaction between these “worlds” has, on the whole, been characterised by strong disagreements both about the interpretation of the past itself and the role a reconstructed past can or should play in the present and future. My interest here is confined to briefly locating these modern pagan traditions within the broader umbrella of reuse and reception. As in art and literature, those involved in these revivalist traditions choose images which are suited to their particular practices and beliefs. Among 20

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C. MORRIS, “Lord of the dance: Ted Shawn’s Gnossienne and its Minoan context,” in MOMIGLIANO and FARNOUX (supra n. 3) 111-122. S. WADA, Paul Klee and his Travels (1980) 65. M.L. TEUBER, Paul Klee. Paintings and Watercolors from the Bauhaus Years, 1921-1931. Catalog of an Exhibition Des Moines Art Center, September 18-October 28, 1973 (1973) 91. N. KAZANTAKIS, Report to Greco, trans. P. BIEN (1965) 17-18. P. BIEN (ed. and trans.) The Selected Letters of Nikos Kazantzakis (2012) 220 (1925 Letters). N. KAZANTZAKIS, At the Palaces of Knossos, trans. T. and T. Vasils (1988). C. GERE (supra n. 2) 119, 148-150; H. GONZÁLEZ-VAQUERIZO, “Kazantzakis’ Odyssey as a Cretan and Modernist Masterpiece,” in L. GIANNAKOPOULOU and E .K. SKORDYLES (eds), Culture and Society in Crete. From Kornaros to Kazantzakis (2018) 113-115. E. BOURKE, “The image of the Minoan in Science Fiction,” in T. KEEN (ed.), Fantastika and the Greek and Roman Worlds (2014) 9-18; L.E. REEVE, Peacekeeper (2008), Vigilante (2009); Stargate SG-1 (S1, E5), “Broca Divide” (1997). BOURKE (supra n. 27) 16. L. TALALAY, “Review article. Cultural biographies of the Great Goddess,” AJA 104 (2000) 790.

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the traditions which have a strong Cretan focus are the women only Goddess pilgrimages to Crete organised by Carol Christ. Visits to archaeological sites (sacred centres) and museums are an integral part of the journey, as are ritual performances – making altars, leaving offerings which include food and also replicas of Minoan objects.30 Another group, “Ariadne’s Tribe: Modern Minoan Paganism” led by Laura Perry allows members (of all genders) to connect virtually through an online group, and there are also online courses and a profilic range of publications. They also use (and make) Minoan inspired objects in their rituals.31 As an example of a new cult, the “Minoan Brotherhood” is particularly fascinating since its origins and founder are well documented and because – unusually for Minoan reuse – it has a male focus.32 Founded by Eddie Buczynski within a broadly Wiccan tradition, it started in New York in 1977 to create a more welcoming spiritual environment for gay men. It describes itself as “a men’s initiatory tradition of the craft celebrating life, men loving men, and magic in a primarily Cretan context”.33 It is organised into groves, the first of which was the “Knossos Grove” and all rituals are private so that it is possible to glean only a general impression of the ritual paraphenalia, although they include double axes (labrys) and bull imagery. Of particular interest is Buczynski’s engagement with academia – he studied Bronze Age archaeology at Hunter College and then at Bryn Mawr, and also travelled to Greece and Crete.34 Nonetheless, in common with other pagan practitioners, he used his knowledge of the Minoans “inspirationally” rather than with literal attention to archaeological detail, and it seems that the cult, which is active across America and Europe, continues to thrive.35 Dress to Impress, Minoan Style (2017) The long tradition of the ancient Greek world providing inspiration for clothing and costume could not have been better captured than by Dolce & Gabbana’s fashion shows of June 2019 where models showed off outfits which paid homage to ancient Greece. The models in the goddess themed Alta Moda show strutted a most unusual catwalk – the temple of Concordia in Agrigento, Sicily,36 while the male themed, Alta Sartoria show was staged in the town of Sciacca within a setting of oversized plaster columns 30

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C. CHRIST, A Serpentine Path. Mysteries of the Goddess (2016) offers a personal narrative of these Cretan pilgrimages. For other perspectives, see J. DUBISCH, “The Seduction of the Past in New Age Pilgrimage,” in M.A. DI GIOVINE and D. PICARD (eds), The Seductions of Pilgrimage. Sacred Journeys Afar and Astray in the Western Religious Tradition (2016) 145-168 (an anthropological perspective); and A. SIMANDIRAKI, “Dusk at the Palace: Exploring Minoan Spiritualities,” in K. ROUNTREE, C. MORRIS and A.A.D. PEATFIELD (eds), The Archaeology of Spiritualities (2012) 247-266. E.g. L. PERRY, Ariadne’s Thread. Awakening the Wonders of the Ancient Minoans in our Modern Lives (2013); Labrys and Horns. An Introduction to Modern Minoan Paganism (2016). For a discussion and image of a modern altar, https://thepaganandthepen.wordpress.com/2017/08/30/making-a-minoan-altar/(last accessed 10.6. 2019). There is, in parallel, a Minoan Sisterhood – formed soon after the Minoan Brotherhood. It seems to maintain a low profile though it is active in the New York area. E. DOYLE WHITE, “Minoan Brotherhood,” World Religions and Spirituality, online as https://wrldrels.org/2018/10/01/minoan-brotherhood/ (last accessed 10.6.2019) M.G. LLOYD, Bull of Heaven. The Mythic Life of Eddie Buczynski and the Rise of the New York Pagan (2012) 469, 486-95, 504-05; see also B.E. BURNS, “Cretomania and neo-paganism: the Great Mother Goddess and gay male identity in the Minoan Brotherhood,” in MOMIGLIANO and FARNOUX (supra n. 3) 157170; C. TULLY, “The Artifice of Daedalus: Modern Minoica as Religious Focus in Contemporary Paganism,” in D. BURNS and A. BARBARA-RENGER (eds), New Antiquities. Transformations of Ancient Religion in the New Age and Beyond (2018) 76-102. DOYLE WHITE (supra n. 33). Dolce & Gabbana Alta Moda: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RQQcL6SxWwM; https://www. vogue.com/article/dolce-and-gabbana-alta-moda-sicily-valley-of-the-temples; Alta Sartoria: https:// www. youtube.com/watch?time_continue=57&v=C-aJRLYAolo; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i8nb J7hLjaI; https://www.vogue.com/article/dolce-and-gabbana-alta-sartoria-sicily-2019 (all accessed 10.6. 2019).

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and statues – male of course. The message that all things Greek have high cultural capital, and that Dolce & Gabbana were honouring but also commodifying their own western Greek Sicilian origins, could not have been more obvious. While the Greek references were exceptionally intense and lavish – from robes with Homeric text, to motifs from Greek vases, a hat in the form of a fragmentary temple, plus golden wings and bows and arrows – fashion houses like Dolce & Gabbana have a long history of borrowing from the classical world. As discussed above, the Bronze Age was on the fashion menu for costume design in the early 20th century, surely picking up on the positive public reception of early glimpses of the elegantly tailored and vibrantly coloured garments seen in the Knossos frescoes. In her Spring/Summer 2017 collection, Greek fashion designer Mary Katranzou, who boasts a celebrity clientele, made extensive use of both classical Greek and Aegean Bronze Age designs. The collection ecletically combined 1960s psychedelic patterning, metallic fabrics, and printed images from Greek vases and Bronze Age frescoes, creating a gorgeously coloured, shimmering engagement with the past.37 The images drawn from black-figure vases, which included the goddess Athena and women weaving as well as detailed friezes of palmettes and lotus, acknowledged their ceramic inspiration through the use of a rich terracotta and black colour scheme. Images from red-figure vase painting, some of whole scenes, were more boldly transposed into a white, lilac and purple palette. True to their polychrome originals, the images drawn from Bronze Age frescoes were, for the most part, highly coloured, though an isolated, coiffeured head with characteristic Minoanstyle curls was also rendered in several versions: in white outline on severe black, and in a metallic fabric. Bronze Age fresco images are also framed by palmettes and Greek key pattern, mixing these distant pasts with swirling 1960s psychedelic patterns – with Katranzou characterising the ancient frescoes as “the Pop Art of their time”, so in her mind natural partners.38 Looking for a moment at the specific Aegean designs, Katranzou has selected a small set of fresco images, using most of them more than once (Pl. LXIIIa). They include the female procession with offerings from Thebes; the Mykenaika head; the Procession fresco from Knossos; and the Ladies in Blue – once rendered as a full bodice and in other examples taking only one of the heads. All of the images, but especially the Ladies in Blue, are well known; the frescoes are also all quite fragmentary, so what is being transmitted into the 21st century are the recreations of the fresco restorers. There is a strong, though not exclusive, focus on female imagery and in interviews the designer talks about researching female deities, which led her to the Bronze Age, and about the idea of Knossos as a culture that empowered women. Coverage of the collection picked up strongly on it being an “archaeological exploration”, on the idea of the origins of European fashion in the Bronze Age, and on the powerful female, matriarchal aspect to the Minoans. Thinking then about the Bronze Age dimension to Katranzou’s collection, this is a striking, and aesthetically stunning, high fashion use of fresco imagery, yet the conversation with the past takes its cue from familiar and well rehearsed ideas and fantasies about the Minoans: their female centred, even matriarchal structures, and the dazzling modernity of their fashion and their art. Minoan Message on a Bottle, Global goes Local (2017) The same summer of 2017 also produced another high profile reuse of Minoan imagery in a commerical context: a seasonal, limited edition bottle design from Coca-Cola which combined Minoan imagery with well-known mythology, specifically the story of Theseus and the Minotaur at Knossos (Pls LXIIIb and LXIVa-b). It was to be the first in a series of designs which has promoted particular regions of Greece39 and also the island of Cyprus; one of the world’s biggest companies choosing to market itself 37

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Mary Katrantzou, S/S 2017: https://www.marykatrantzou.com/collections/spring-summer-2017/; https: //www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zsk2Hpbu6qA (accessed 10.6.2019). Mary Katranzou, interview in Toni and Guy Magazine: http://magazine.toniandguy.com/article/ 659/mary-katrantzou (accessed 10.6.2019). The collection now includes Athens (the cityscape with the Acropolis), Thessaloniki (the White Tower, symbol of the city), the Cyclades and Dodecanese (both showing characteristic architectural scenes).

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through regional imagery, specifically the archaeological past – the global goes local. Also issued in the same summer, the Cypriot Paphos edition shows Aphrodite rising from the sea at the famous Petra tou Romiou together with stylised mosaic tiles (evoking the Paphos mosaics). The design references Paphos as European Capital of Culture that year and overtly promotes tourism; notably the image of Aphrodite chosen is the already iconic one used as the stylised logo of the Cyprus Tourist Organisation.40 2018 saw the issue of a second seasonal design for Cyprus; Aphrodite keeps a central position, but she is joined by other archaeological and historical images, including a distinctively Cypriot cruciform figurine from the Chalcolithic period.41 Both Coca-Cola and the Athenian based designers, Asterias Creative Design, stress the artistic dimension of the initiative with the bottles and associated items offering visitors “the opportunity to take a unique piece of modern art memorabilia home with them.”42 Returning to the Minoan bottle, how does it sit within the now century-long history of Minoan reuse and reimagining? While I may be exhibiting some Minoan bias here, this is surely the most beautiful of all the seasonal designs to date, elegantly melding Minoan images with Cretan mythology. The dominant colours in the imagery, reds, shades of terracotta and accents of blue, work well with the familiar red of Coca-Cola. The bottle itself features a bull-leaping scene, placed centrally under the company name; while instantly recognisable from the Knossos frescoes, the designer has also traced a labyrinth within the bull’s body. Knossos is further evoked by the red Minoan columns which frame the bull-leaping scene, and a stylised frieze of overlapping discs above the column capitals seems both to reference the framing of the fresco and, through their placement, to evoke the circular beam ends of the architrave. The other most prominent element in the scene is a large, seated female with typically Minoan hair and dress. She is closely modelled on the central figure in the reconstructed Ladies in Blue fresco from Knossos – a source for Mary Katranzou’s SS17 collection, as discussed above – though the missing lower body, with her flounced skirt, is reconstructed from other seated figures. The female form aligns with the iconic curved shape of the bottle, and overall she adds a pop of colour, especially, blue to the overall design. 43 Unlike her Minoan sisters, however, she holds up a ball of thread which is unravelling, identifying her as Ariadne. A small male winged figure high above her presumably represents Daedalus or Icarus, signalling another link to the labyrinth at Knossos, built to hold the Minotaur. Other Aegean motifs grow up from the ground-line including plants (papyri or sea daffodils according to different interpretations) taken from a fresco in the Theran House of the Ladies. As noted above, the bottle forms part of a larger artistic production. Crete in the summer of 2017 was awash with this imagery – on the sides of the small tourist trains in the main towns, on chairs and tables in cafes, on cardboard drinks mats and the sides of fridges at “periptera” and in shops. Already, two years later much of the imagery has disappeared or survives in weather-worn form and so in the physical landscape of Crete has been a rather ephemeral phenomenon, true presumably to its marketing as a seasonal, “limited edition” product. Part of the marketing was the idea that this would be collectable, a piece of “memorabilia”; the phrasing distances it from the ubiquitous tourist souvenirs, but it feeds into the same idea of memory creation through souvenirs as a key part of the tourist experience.44 One might

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C. MORRIS and G. PAPANTONIOU, “Cypriot-born Aphrodite: the social biography of a modern cultural icon,” in L. BOMBARDIERI, T. BRACCINI and S. ROMANI (eds), Il troni variopinto. Figure e forme della dea dell’amore (2014) 183-202. In 2019, an environmental dimension was added with the promise that for every seasonal glass bottle consumed Coca-Cola would contribute towards marine clean up of plastics at selected Cypriot beaches: see https://cy.coca-colahellenic.com/en/news-and-media/news/coca-cola-s-seasonal-collectable-bottlesto-support-zero-waste-beach/ (accessed 15.6.2019). This is an excellent example of how companies increasingly promote themselves in terms of being actively involved in “creating shared values”: see M.E. PORTER and M.R. KRAMER, “Creating Shared Value,” Harvard Business Review 89 (2011) 1/2, 62-77. https://www.coca-cola.co.uk/stories/past-present-and-future-of-crete-with-limited-edition-bottle (accessed 10.6.2019); for the design company: https://asterias.gr/work/coca-cola-seasonal-lebs-greece/. My thanks to Stavros Platsis (Asterias Creative Design) for pointing out these two particular design features to me. See n. 6 for references.

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wonder how realistic it is to expect tourists to safely transport a glass Coca-Cola bottle back home, but the company has a strong global presence in the field of collectibles as evidenced by the numerous illustrated guides to vintage and contemporary items45 and it also has a long history of eliding the lines between commercial advertising and artistic and cultural representation.46 A boxed version of the bottle makes it both more portable and offers a further layer of artwork and text. The text offers the consumer the story of the myth (minus any family-unfriendly details such as the origins of the Minotaur) to illuminate the imagery – recounting, in brief, the tale of Theseus and Ariadne, her vital assistance in negotiating the labyrinth (with the thread), and the death of the Minotaur. The Minoans are mentioned only in reference to the “unique Minoan red columns” at Knossos, which are among the most easily recognisable elements of Minoan material culture. In the text, then, the myth is foregrounded, but the iconography used to “tell” the story is primarily Minoan, showcasing the archaeological imagery that is already familiar to most Greeks, and that visitors to Crete will encounter on sites and in museums, and in numerous modern reuses or “local appropriations” of the distinctive red columns and frescoes.47 The box also offers some extra iconography: here Ariadne’s thread unfurls under a Greek trireme, led by a Minoan dolphin, and there is also a bull’s head rhyton from Knossos whose horn is entangled in a thread that folds into a maze pattern. The past is here commodified through elegant artwork, bringing together the Minoan material past with a Cretan based myth. As the design was produced in Greece, the designers were able to draw on material familiar to them since school – a strong, pre-existing knowledge base of ancient history and mythology. This follows a long tradition of using archaeological finds to give visual and material life to these myths, as for example in Mary Renault’s novels about Crete. In this particular case, local knowledge, imagery and stories are used in value creation for a global product, to be enjoyed in a Cretan context. Stylistically, the artwork is both modern and yet obviously Minoan, the artists have chosen iconic imagery which evokes familiar ideas about the Bronze Age, and like many modern reimaginings this also involves placing a prominent female figure at the heart of the design. Poetic Minoans, Dorothy Porter’s Crete (1996) While both of the previous examples illustrate creative engagement with Minoan imagery and the package of ideas and values that are typically associated with them, my third example represents a much more complex and sustained engagement with the Minoan past. This is the 1996 collection Crete by the Australian poet Dorothy Porter (Pl. LXIVc). Her poems engage in a dialogue with archaeological materialities to create her own distinctive re-imaginings of Minoan Crete, which merit a lengthier study than is possible here. In a way, rather like Evans whose works she read closely and admired,48 she creates her own Minoans as indeed implied here in her poem “Archaeology”: Am I the Arthur Evans Of my own lost city? Excavated with shovelling obsession Restored with wishful thinking? 45

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Examples include: D.G. HILL, Price Guide to Vintage Coca-Cola Collectibles, 1896-1965 (1999); A. PETRITTI, Warman’s Coca-Cola Collectibles. Identification and Price Guide (2006). Coca-Cola marked the centenary of their classic bottle shape with a compilation of images and art: Kiss the Past Hello. 100 Years of the Coca-Cola Contour Bottle (2015). S. SHANKAR, “Necessity and desire: water and Coca-Cola in India,” in P. BOSE and L.E. LYONS (eds), Cultural Critique and the Global Corporation (2010) 156-180. For modern use of Minoan imagery on Crete, see Y. HAMILAKIS, “The colonial, the national and the local: Legacies of the Minoan past,” in HAMILAKIS and MOMIGLIANO (supra n. 2) 145-162; G. CADOGAN, “‘The Minoan distance’: the impact of Knossos upon the twentieth century,” in G. CADOGAN, E. HATZAKI and A. VASILAKIS (eds), Knossos. Palace, City, State (2004) 537-545. D. PORTER, Crete (1994), Acknowledgements, where she describes Evans’ Palace of Minos as “an awesome labyrinth”.

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Born in Sydney in 1954, Porter developed a love of nature as a child, and came out as a lesbian when she was 31, after identifying as bisexual in her earlier years.49 Her engagement with nature and her own sexuality deeply inform the themes of her poetry, and, by extension, her interest in and responses to ancient cultures. Before becoming interested in the Minoans, Porter showed an interest in another ancient culture, that of Egypt. She published a verse novel, Akhenaten (1991) which sees the world through the eyes of the pharaoh and shows a fascination both with his androgenous sexuality and his heretic religion. As related in a tribute to her by her partner Andrea Goldsmith,50 Porter had visited Egypt to research her subject and persuaded her tour group to take a detour to Akhenaten’s city; she had already imagined it in her own mind, but – as it turned out – it was a dusty and disappointing set of archaeological ruins in reality. Her fortunate fellow travellers were, however, treated to a performance by Porter in which she brought the city to life together with Akhenaten, “that strangely beguiling figure with his long pointy chin and the thick cushiony mouth”. Thus, while experiencing the physical traces and images was clearly important to her, it was her imagination that made them real. After the highly successful Monkey’s Mask (1994), another verse novel, her attention moved to Crete and its Minoan past. Porter’s Minoans are sexy and disturbing, she turns Minoan images into words; words which are sensorially evocative, full of bodies, smells and decay. Thematically, her poems mine the Minoan past to reflect on both timeless and contemporary topics: the environment, lesbian love and animal rights. Her poems on gender and lesbian love pick up on established narratives about the Minoans, since the prominence of women, a certain sense of effeminacy and ambiguity, and the apparent peaceful nature of the society had not only led to these themes being explored in the creative arts, but also to the adoption of the Minoan double axe (labrys) since the 1970s as a lesbian symbol due to its perceived association with the goddess. Thus, an early lesbian magazine in Greece was published under the name Lavris51 and the double-axe continues to be prevalent in lesbian jewellery. As noted earlier, Porter acknowledges Evans’ publications as a source for her poems, but that followed her earlier engagement with a novel about Crete, Prince of the Lilies (1991), by fellow Australian writer Rod Jones. Evans, his Knossos finds, problems of archaeological interpretation and the idea of the prehistory as a “transposed dream” are all central to Jones’ novel, and some of those themes trickle through in Porter’s poems too. However, for an archaeologist one of the most striking features in Porter’s poems is that they paint pictures in words, evoking both actual objects and key themes in the iconography. The poems hint at direct engagement with Crete – as well as poring over Evans in the library – but her only visit to Crete was much earlier during the 1970s, though she also visited museums and made connections between objects and images and her ideas.52 Snakes and octopuses appear prominently in the poems – as in Minoan imagery. Snake Envy, for example, conjures up the world of the goddess and her snakes: Snakes bluish with leopard spots boil over the breasts, arms and throat of the Minoan priestess

Minoans and snakes make another appearance in a later work, On Passion, written just before her death. In a section “The magic of snakes” she shares her belief in the sacredness of snakes, at the “nub of

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T. GIANOULIS, “Porter, Dorothy (1954-2008),” The glbtq Encyclopedia (2015) archived at http://www. glbtqarchive.com/literatureindex.html. A. GOLDSMITH, “A tribute to Dorothy Porter by Andrea Goldsmith,” Australian Book Review 407 (2018) (/abr-online/archive/2018/content/233-december-2018-no-407). B. ZIMMERMAN (ed.), Lesbian Histories and Cultures. An Encyclopedia, Vol. 1 (2000) 343. My thanks to Andrea Goldsmith for this information: she notes her fondness for the British Museum and how Porter would linger in front of favourite figurines and other pieces.

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my own idiosyncratic pantheism”.53 Within a longer discussion of snakes, ranging from the Aboriginal Dreaming to a poem by D.H. Lawrence, she offers Minoan snake imagery as an example of the positive and important role of the snake in ritual, echoing its role in her poems. Her challenge to the reader that “I may sound like an anachronistic seventies lesbian Goddess-worshipping feminist bending cultural anthropology to her own wishful-thinking purpose” 54 vividly, if a little tongue in cheek, captures something of the spirit with which she engages the Minoan material. In the world of Minoan reuses, Goddesses, bull-leapers, snakes are familiar fare, but Porter’s keen eye picks out and plays with more obscure images. “The beautiful friend” is about the sea and the opening central image is of pottery, through it seems unlikely that the specific reference – to Middle Minoan ceramics encrusted with marine relief – would be identified by the general reader. What is particularly effective here is the sensory dimension, of the relief surfaces of the cup in the hand, something that as archaeologists more concerned with typology and function we tend to be less tuned into. The Minoans moulded the crust of the sea onto their pottery as if their beautiful friend would one day dry up Drink from us, Lady, their barnacled cups urge feel us, feel the rough of our shells in your hand

Porter succeeds in defamiliarising the apparently familiar, and her Minoans have a distinctly dark side. It is an artistically dazzling world in which “they painted what they fancied not what they saw”,55 and yet it also frequently smells of death or seems on the brink of destruction: “your island of lilies will blow up in a stinking roar”.56 Animals play a rich role in the poems – snakes, octopuses and bulls in particular. In one of the recurrent images of bull-leaping Porter reminds the reader that behind the elegance of bullleaping lies violence, and that in the spectacle of human-animal engagement the end result for the humans may be that “the beasts splatter them”.57 In “Altars” the human-animal violence revolves around animal (bull) sacrifice and from the vivid opening lines it seems we are gazing on the Ayia Triadha sarcophagus: Is the gaily painted trussed bull still alive as its slashed neck bleeds into the sacred vessel?

But we are immediately pulled back into the sensory realities: Every altar in Crete Must have reeked of the fluids of terror – diarrhoea and fresh blood.

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D. PORTER, On Passion (2010), 34. PORTER (supra n. 53) 35. PORTER (supra n. 48) 49, “Liberties”. PORTER (supra n. 48) 45, “Catastrophe”. PORTER (supra n. 48) 43, “Triumph of the Will”.

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Porter brings to the fore the death and violence that lie behind the elegance of the art, the Minoans of her imagination are neither bland nor peace-loving. While these first two stanzas may give us pause for thought about the Minoans, the real power of the poem lies in how it continues, comparing ancient sacrifice with the “steel altars” of animal testing laboratories where the dog “lies red raw”, the cat “fixed still”. If one of the uses of the past is to help us - in this case propel us - into thinking about our humanity (or lack of) and our place within the living world, here it is through Porter’s eyes that we see, and feel, the trussed bulls ready for ancient sacrifice in disturbing parallel with the modern cruelty of the animal testing laboratory. The history of the reception of the Minoans is now a century old. For those producing art, costumes and literature in the early 1900s, Minoan material culture provided a brand new source of inspiration, and the excavations at Knossos may have also revitalised an interest in Cretan mythology within the creative arts.58 One hundred years later, interest in recreating, reimagining, consuming and commodifying the Minoans in the present has not waned, and has rather rekindled again in the early 21st century.59 It is possible to observe some persistent trends in the reuses such as the idea of the powerful female as seen in Katranzou’s 2017 fashion designs, but at the same time the continued attraction of the Minoans must lie in their malleability to the desires of their users across a whole spectrum of personal and societal issues. Each reuse, as explored in the examples discussed here, has its own particular biography within the wider mosaic of Cretomaniac stories. With that in mind, let us leave the final word to one of Rod Jones” characters in Prince of the Lilies, “all of us find the Minoans we want to find.”60 Christine MORRIS

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CADOGAN (supra n. 47) 542. In addition to the two 21st century examples discussed here, one could add the emphasis on the Bronze Age at the opening ceremony of the 2004 Athens Olympics: see A. SIMANDIRAKI, “Minoan archaeology in the Athens 2004 Olympic Games,” European Journal of Archaeology 8 (2005) 157-181. Other recent and varied initiatives include Branding Heritage which offers a platform for promoting ancient culture through contemporary design: http://ww.brandingheritage.org/index.html; The Minoan Theatre, Cultural Events Centre on Crete which offers a “Minoan show”: https://www.minoantheater.gr/about-us/; and Minoan Tastes which “promotes the culinary history of Crete” based on close study of archaeological data: https://www.minoantastes.com/about (all accessed 10.6.2019). R. JONES, Prince of the Lilies (1991) 121.

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Pl. LXIIIa Pl. LXIIIb Pl. LXIVa Pl. LXIVb Pl. LXIVc

Minoan “Ladies in Blue” adorn the bodice of a dress in the Mary Katranzou Spring/Summer 2017 collection runway show during London Fashion Week (Getty Images). Minoan-themed, limited-edition Coca-Cola bottles (Crete 2017). Bottles in display stand, and individual boxes to left (Heraklion, October 2018). Photograph Christine Morris. Minoan-themed, limited-edition Coca-Cola design (Crete 2017). Design on the side of a peripteron fridge, showing the bull-leaper and the red Minoan columns. Photograph Christine Morris. Minoan-themed, limited-edition Coca-Cola design (Crete 2017). Café chair (Rethymno, July 19, 2018). Photograph Christine Morris. Cover of Dorothy Porter’s Crete (1996). Photograph Christine Morris.




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